My baby elephant, and other tales

I have an elephant. Not as a pet, of course. She stays at the local elephant orphanage. And I'm one of probably hundreds of people that can call her "mine." After having taken slews of visiting teams to the orphanage last summer, I figured that the sponsorship would cost me less than the entrance fee I had to pay every time. Plus, it would allow me to do what the thousands of other daily visitors don't get to do: Come and help with the evening feeding.

But every time I'm in Nairobi, I have other things to do. Business to take care of. People to see. Supplies to buy. This afternoon, however, after I had completed everything from my Nairobi to-do list, I was about to lay down to take a nap.* I was afraid I might fall into a deep sleep, though, which would prolong jet lag even more. And then I remembered:

I could visit Sinya!

I hopped in the Mayfield rental car and made my way to the center. I was the only visitor (many, if not most, sponsors are international tourists who adopt elephants on behalf of friends/family at home, so very few people actually come out for the evening feedings) and Edwin took me around to meet two new friends.

First, there was a new little elephant who came to the center 2 days ago. She was still pretty aggressive as they had rescued her from an attack by a pride of lions, and wanted to be sure that I knew that she's in charge.


And then I met Maxwell. He's a 2-year-old black rhino that had been abandoned by his mom when she realized he's blind. I fed Maxwell and visited with him till Edwin came to call me, saying, "Come! Quickly! The elephants are coming!"


Next thing, the toddlers came running home with their caregivers.


They spend much of the day in the wild in Nairobi National Park. In fact, when they're ready, they get reintroduced to one of Kenya's many national parks. The babies wear blankets to protect them from sunburn. Mama elephants usually cover their young ones with dust or mud, or make them walk in their shade. But without their mamas to look out for them, the young 'uns can get burned pretty badly.

By the way, this page tells you how each of the elephants were orphaned.

For the next hour, I got to watch the little ones hang out with their caregivers, play around, even go to bed.



By 6, they started laying down, and the caregivers covered them with blankets for the night. They sleep in the stalls with the elephants!

I drove off with a smile on my face and in my heart, passing several giraffes on the side of the road. "It's good to be back in Africa," I thought. Most definitely not just for the animals and the beauty of God's creation here. The people, too, are amazing. I can't wait to see the orphans at Eldoret tomorrow, give them hugs, and to hear their latest stories...

Heading back to Mayfield, I stopped by Ranger's Restaurant, a place that overlooks Nairobi National Park. I sat on the veranda, enjoying a drink while writing in my journal and taking in the beauty of everything around me.

My heart was singing. God is doing some pretty amazing stuff, and I get to see his hand in all of it, firsthand.

It's good to be back.


* I had literally slept only one hour last night. Due to jet lag, I was wide awake and kept working all night till I finally heard the call to prayer at the nearby mosque. That's at 5 a.m. I was supposed to get up at 6, so I hopped into bed for an hour-long nap.

Shortcut to Heaven?

Today, I rented one of the Mayfield* cars and drove to Westlands, a Nairobi neighborhood, to purchase some goods for our new guest homes in Kipkaren.

I decided to take a shortcut rather than the main road which is always jammed with thousands of matatus. As I was driving along the lush back roads of Nairobi, a matatu driver coming in the opposite direction suddenly decided he wasn't going to drive on his side of the road. He wanted to pass the line of cars, despite the fact that I was coming right at him! I flashed my lights like crazy and slowed down to a crawl, so just feet from hitting me head-on, he swung onto the shoulder. I thank God that there were no pedestrians there! He continued driving on the shoulder (on the WRONG side of the road) for at least another hundred yards or so, then cut back across traffic and got back in line, not once slowing down even a little. (No, I don't think his brakes failed. His brain might've, though.)

Gulp! Earlier in the day, I was thrilled to see a cop pull over another matatu that pulled a similar trick, except it was on a road wide enough to form three lanes, so oncoming traffic could merely scoot over a bit. What cracked me up, though, was watching in my rear view mirror as the cop took off on his motorbike after stopping the culprit. He drove across oncoming traffic and proceeded his journey on the shoulder of the road, driving against traffic.

Perhaps the crazy driver from later actually learned the tricks of the trade from watching what cops do, not what they say.

But then again, for his defense, the cop was driving a motorcycle, not a minibus!

Yikes.

It's good to be back in Kenya.

Now you know why I'll be flying to Eldoret on Thursday rather than taking a matatu.

* Mayfield is a missionary guesthouse in Nairobi.

Back in Nairobi

So I left Johannesburg this morning, as always, with more stuff than I should be trying to take on an international flight. It doesn't help that the weight limit on flights from SA is only 30 kg (about 65 lbs). Try bringing books back on that limit. And treats you can't find in Kenya. Plus your normal luggage. Fortunately, I didn't take a lot of clothes to SA, but still.

The attendant who helped me check in asked, "What do you have that's so heavy?" OK, so I brought a cast iron pot with me (which by itself is 22 lbs). In Kenya, you cannot get cast iron pots. Kenyans cook in aluminum sufrias. In South Africa, probably every house has a potjie (pronounced 'poy-ki) . . . or three. Cause a cast iron pot cooks stews (or soups, or whatever you'd like to toss into it) like nothing else can.

Anyway. So I got the pot on the plane. And everything else. Without having to pay extra. Long story. Partly grace. Mostly connections, for which I am infinitely thankful.

Hardly four hours later, we landed in Nairobi. Kilimanjaro was greeting us beautifully as we approached Nairobi. The city looked normal. Taxis still cut in line. But there was about one third of the usual traffic. There were also fewer vendors on the side of the road. Many shops still aren't open. Things just aren't quite normal yet.

I ran into a friend at Mayfield. She's been stuck here visiting doctors after a really bad cycling accident in Sudan which left her with a dislocated shoulder, and two-pins-and-some-wires-wanting-to-poke-out-after-really-bad-surgery later, she's in Kenya for new surgery to remove the hardware which apparently wasn't necessary to begin with. Poor girl! (You'll enjoy reading her blog, I bet. Interesting life in Sudan.) Anyway, I kidnapped her for the afternoon so she could get out of Mayfield a bit. It was good to hear of the work she'll be doing with a division of AIM. They're looking for positive stories coming from the events in Kenya. It challenged me to do the same. Look for the stories of life among all the pain and devastation.

It's hard, sometimes. Reality is, there's still a lot of pain. One could see it in the faces of some of the people I always run into in Nairobi. You could feel it in the air, the uncertainty. In the city, things truly are better. On the surface, at least. Last night, new violence erupted in Nakuru. (Nakuru is halfway between Nairobi and Eldoret.) I am told things are calm in Eldoret.

Kofi Anan is in Kenya, and he said he had witnessed "gross and systematic human rights abuses."

Obviously, I won't be driving back to Eldoret. (One would have to pass through Nakuru to do so.) I'm flying tomorrow, and should land in Eldoret around 2 pm, at which time colleagues will pick me up. I'm looking forward to being back in my little home, seeing Flannel, seeing my friends in Kipkaren. It will be a while before I can go to Ilula to see my friends there, but I'll let you know how they all are once I get there.

So, for now, I'm going to crawl into my bed here in Mayfield. And pray for peace to come to this land. True Peace. Deep Peace.

And tomorrow? I'll have to try getting my pot onto the next flight again... Among other things the day holds.

Friday in Nairobi

So I spent all week in the city. Didn't get to go to a movie, get a haircut or any of the things I like to do in the city. But I got lots of work done. I sat in Nairobi Java House for four straight days and worked on photo projects. It feels good to have gotten some of the projects done! It feels so good that it really doesn't matter that I didn't see a movie. :) I got to do some things though that I like, like soak in the bath tub every evening. And visit with missionaries at Mayfield whom I've gotten to know from times when our paths cross. Like the girls who are on a TIMO team in Sudan. It's fun to visit with friends like these when I'm here. It makes me feel normal.

Insofar wor goes: The photos I keep on my external hard drive is down to 15,000 now. That's 8,000 fewer than when I began working on this project. Plus the 5,000 I deleted from my computer, and you can imagine why I've not been blogging this week. It seems like every time I picked up my computer, it was to work on the photos and related projects. Which is good.

I got to pick up my car at the end of the day today, too. The turbo's been fixed, and I have new tires. The mechanics were asking, "Where do you drive that your tires look like this??" They pointed out several deep cuts to every single tire. That's from the rocks: When the roads are really muddy, they fix our road by breaking rocks and putting them into the worst parts. Sharp rocks + heavy car + soft, muddy surroundings = deep cuts.

This year, I spent more on my car than I ever want to again! The gearbox had to be overhauled. The shocks and lots of other expensive stuff had to be replaced. Now the turbo and the tires. Let's trust it'll all last till the car retires. It's still a great car, and I wouldn't want to drive our roads with anything less!

So tomorrow, I get to drive back to Eldoret. I met a couple from Michigan this week at Mayfield who work in Sudan, but due to the new tension there, they can't go into the country. So they asked if they could ride to Eldoret with me and see what we're doing there. They'll take a matatu back on Monday or Tuesday. I'm glad I don't have to make the drive alone. It's OK, but it's just safer having other people in the car, too.

In just a week, I'll fly back to Nairobi to meet the team from Iowa! I can't wait! Just eight days, and counting... :)

All in a Day's Work

Above the hum of the city traffic, above the chatter of the birds and visitors outside my window and the buzzing of the mosquitoes in my room, I can hear the call to prayer at the nearby mosque.

I'm (still) in Nairobi. It was a good day. Got lots done. I literally sat at Java House from 9 a.m. till 5 p.m. Yes, sitting got uncomfortable after a while... But I'm making progress on purging and sorting through my collection of 23,000 photos. Once that's done, I can order photo books for work. I am determined to sort and purge every time I download photos from my camera from now on... It'd be easier that way!

I was tempted to treat myself to a movie this evening, but couldn't imagine having to sit still for another 2 hours. Not today. Maybe another evening.

I was at the mechanics early this morning. My car's turbo is indeed in desperate need of help. It may sound like a luxury, this turbo business. Fear not. It's what helps my car go uphill faster than 30km/h. Which helps, considering that I live in the hilly part of Kenya. And I need new tires. My tires have deep gouges in them from our road in Ilula. When the mud is really bad, they fill in the holes with freshly broken rocks. Considering that's what people used in the Stone Age as axes etc, broken rocks happen to be sharp enough to cut through my heavy-duty tires. The rest of the car is fine. They'll put back the wandering nuts and bolts and screws so my car doesn't fall apart on me.

There's a group here at Mayfield who's from a church in Hong Kong. I had breakfast with a bunch of them, and it was fun to speak Chinese again. It feels funny speaking Chinese in Kenya. It confuses my mind a bit. Makes me want to address the Kenyans in Mandarin, too.

Time for dinner. And then, a hot bath, one of the luxuries of being at Mayfield. I think I'm going to read tonight rather than spend another several hours on my computer. That way, I'd be ready for the next 10,000 photos tomorrow...

The Chickens on the Road

The drive to Nairobi today took nine and a half hours, as opposed to the usual six hours or so. That's due to the deteriorating road conditions, plus due to the fact that there were two toddlers in the car, and two chickens. But more about that later. There were moments when I thought, "Only in Africa." But then again, maybe not. Perhaps the following scenes are common in your part of the world. Let me know if they are!

Scene 1: We're driving down the winding road into the Kerio Valley. Toddler #1 gets car sick, so we pull over. A lady walks by with her baby strapped to her back and enquires as to why we're stopped, if we're taking the child to a hospital. Mother-of-toddler explains kindly that it's nothing bad, that we're just stopping to give her some dawa (medicine), but thanks for asking. As we get ready to take off again, an able-bodied 20-some-year old comes to the window, signing he wants food, that he's hungry. Father-of-the-toddler explains in a kind tone that the young man is young and strong, he should work to get food.

Scene 2: A kilometer or three down the road, we pull over at a fruit stop. Six ladies storm to the window, wanting to sell us paw-paws (papayas). I explain that we don't need paw-paws, but that I'm looking for Esther (a relative to a colleague). We buy two bunches of sweet bananas for less than a dollar (the going price). But Esther insists on adding some things, simply because she knows me. "Take these mangoes! Or how about avocados." It would be rude to refuse. I explain that her family is doing well and that I bring greetings from them. We continue with the journey.

Scene 3: While driving up the escarpment out of the valley, we notice something in the middle of the steep road. Is it a dead goat? Nope! It's two chickens! Driver-dad-of-the-kids pulls over and promptly puts the chickens in the back, under the feet of his not-too-impressed wife. The chickens calm down promptly. Toddler #1 is upset for not being able to see the chickens. But the journey continues. "Let's pray who we can give these to. They must've fallen off the roof of a matatu," chicken-saver-driver-dad declares. We drive, looking out for who might look distraught for having lost their chickens. None of the 40 or so pedestrians we pass look like they're it.

Scene 4: About an hour later, the chickens are still with us. Keeper-of-the-chickens-wife-in-the-back-seat is starting to make plans to simply lay them back on the side of the road. But we decide that someone will see us and think it very strange that we wazungus left an offer. For whom? Would it be safe to take it? So we keep looking out for someone who looks like they're not on a journey someplace else (i.e. not heading home), and someone who looks like they can benefit from getting two free chickens. In the meantime, White Chicken is defecating on the floor. Red Chicken seems to have lost interest in life.

Scene 5: We pull over and call a teenage girl to the car. She seems weary of coming to talk with us. Driver-father-chicken-savior explains that we have two chickens. The wife proceeds to carry the gift (tied together by their feet) toward the girl. "Who is the pastor in the area? Do you know him?" She nods, looking uneasy with where this is going. "Could you take the chickens to his house?" She gives us a look as if to say, "You're the type of people my mother warned me against." Chickens find a new place of refuge: by my feet. The journey continues.

Scene 6: We pull over at a honey & chicken stand. "How much is one small bottle of honey," driver-dad enquires, knowing full well the price. (100/=) "And a big bottle? (200/=) Now, how much do you sell your chickens for? (300/=) Ah! Can we trade you two chickens for one small bottle and one big bottle? ... No, we don't want to buy chickens. We have some here." Despite the obvious bargain, the ladies refuse, perplexed by the offer. The journey continues once again.

Scene 7: We're starting to wonder if the chickens will travel to Rwanda with us. Driver-dad tries a new strategy at another honey stand. He buys a small bottle of honey, and asks the saleslady if she knows the pastor in the area. She does. She tells us who he is, and born-and-raised-Africa-Inland-Church-missionary-kid-driver-dude is happy to find out that the said pastor is from the same church. "Can you help us? Can you please give the pastor these two chickens as a gift? No, he doesn't know me. But you can tell him it's from his friends." Honey-lady seems happy to have sold her goods. All of us are happy to have found a good home for Red and White.

The rest of the journey continued without any incidents. Except for the fact that a two-hour stretch of the road was a detour (or, as the signs read, a diversion) over super-dusty and bumpy roads. And then we hit city traffic right at 4:45. It took us almost two hours to get through the city to the guest house where we're the only non-Norwegian wazungus. We might speak some Norwegian by the time we board the plane for Rwanda...

Oh, and I almost forgot.

Pre-scene 1: When I started driving at 7:15 this morning to pick up my travel-companion-family-friends, I first was flagged over by a lady walking the 6km (almost 4 miles) to the main road, all dressed up for a meeting. Honestly, some days you simply don't want to stop and play taxi. Today was one of those days. But as we drove the rest of the way, God gently reminded me that it's an opportunity to bless someone else. By the time we got to the tarmac road heading into Eldoret, I saw a small and frail gogo bent over on the opposite side of the road. I gestured to her daughter--who held a big X-ray envelope in her hands--to bring her to my car. They were obviously heading to the hospital and would have to take public transport. Some bystanders lifted the frail grandma into my car while they told me to wait, her son is also going to town. So we waited. In the meantime, others came to ask for a ride to various towns on the way. I wish I could say I just said "Hop on in!" with a smile. I really didn't mind helping the gogo, but I was running late, and we were on the main road now where the able-bodied men who were asking could simply hop in one of many taxis that passed, at just 20/= for the ride. But we were still waiting, so I couldn't refuse without being rude. The son finally arrived, and after dropping off the other opportunists along the way, I could finally take the grandma and her children to the hospital. And then went and picked up my friends.

In case you're wondering, Toddler 1 was perplexed when we stopped for lunch and she discovered that the chickens had been given away while she was asleep.

Perplexed, but not distraught.

By now, she knows that life in Africa is simply different. You never know what a journey holds.

Traces of a Life Once Lived

I was heading out the movie theater this evening when a book caught my eye. (You've got to walk right through the book store at The Junction to get to the movies. It's like two of my favorite things in one!) It wasn't the title that caught my eye, really. It was the name of the author. Michael Finkel.

Mike Finkel? Can it be? How many Mike Finkels can there be? I skimmed the back cover. ... Montana ... Ah! It's the one and only.

I can pretend I have my finger on the pulse of what's happening in the world, especially in the publishing world. But I don't. Not any more. I remember hearing about the Times writer that got fired for fabricating parts of a true story. But I was in Addis when the story broke. I was out of touch with the real world, seeing just a glimpse of it as I walked by a television in some out-of-the-way Ethiopian restaurant. Honestly, my mind was focusing most of its attention on the realization that my Ethiopian driver was mistaking my friendliness for something more, that I needed to get home quickly. I did. But not before he started talking about the possibility of marriage. I know. Crazy. Just because I was asking about life in Ethiopia on the long drive to Addis.

But that's another story all together. One I'd rather forget. Or one I tell jokingly at times, "Oh, and then there was the time an Ethiopian proposed to me..." Back to my story.

Mike Finkel. Never met him in person, but I have edited several of his articles for our magazine in Taiwan. My favorite story of his tells of his quest to ski Kilimanjaro. But he'd also do bizarre things like ski runaway truck ramps. Just for the fun of it, that is. To say he did it. You can understand why I liked his writing, I'm sure.

Seeing his book reminded me that I wanted to look up another freelance writer from whom I'd often receive business articles for consideration. While I was catching up on friends' blogs yesterday, I saw someone (can't remember who!) said that a must-read is Who Are You People by Shari Caudron.

Seeing Mike's book and discovering Shari's book online brought back memories of spending hours upon hours reading through piles of magazines in search of the best articles to reprint, of editing 5,000-word articles into 720-word essays that would be discussed over three days' radio programs, of looking for the perfect pictures to accompany the said articles, and of always, always looking at other magazines in terms of their design. (What grabs my attention, and why? Or why not?)

And every time I think of life the way it was and life the way it is now, I smile at God's sense of humor. He couldn't have placed me in two worlds that could've been any more different! (OK, OK, I could've ended up living in Sudan. At least I have some luxuries in Kenya. But the differences extend far beyond ease of living. Culturally, rural Kenya and urban Taiwan is as far removed as, well, the East is from the West.)

I've been blessed to live in such diverse worlds.

"Your life just isn't normal," a friend commented today. I guess. But then, what is normal? In my world, my life's pretty normal. At least, I've never tried skiing Kilimanjaro.

Some things I've done today

A not-entirely-exhaustive list of things I have done so far today.

1. Hit "snooze" on my alarm clock.
2. Drank 2 cups of coffee.
3. Studied Genesis 27, the "blessing chapter," about Jacob stealing Esau's blessing.
4. Identified with Rebekah (Jacob's mom, who sometimes didn't get that God's will will prevail, even without my "help.")
5. Ate an egg sandwich at the airport.
6. Wondered if the egg sandwich was safe to eat.
7. Wore blue jeans for the first time in Kenya.
8. Crawled into a really small plane. (Seriously! Aero Kenya has added new flights, but not all of their flights are full, so they've acquired some smaller planes. You cannot be taller than 4' if you'd like to walk in this plane. All seats are isle seats. Most seats are window seats. OK, technically, all seats are window seats, but the two front seats don't have windows.)
   
9. Sat with my feet on top of my carry-on back-pack the entire flight due to lack of space.
10. Chatted with some pastor from some town in the Deep South about the work his church does in Kenya.
11. Read an Afrikaans magazine en route to Nairobi.
12. Fell asleep.
13. Waited for Mayfield driver George to pick me up at the airport. (Mayfield is a missionary guest house run by Africa Inland Mission in Nairobi.)
    
14. Read a few pages of a book while waiting.
    
15. Waited for George to run errands after picking me up from Wilson Airport.
16. Read more pages of the book.
17. Visited with the staff at Mayfield.
18. Wrote thank-you notes to supporters while sitting outside in the Mayfield garden.
19. Listened to good music while writing notes.
20. Had Yorkshire pudding and roast beef for lunch at Mayfield. First time ever to have Yorkshire pudding, that was.
    
21. Met a missionary family who live "just up the road" (a 2-hour drive) from me in Ilula.
    
22. Agreed to connect in Eldoret sometime, which is their nearest "city."
    
23. Went to the international airport with George, to drop off my damaged luggage at British Airways. (The extendable handle by which you pull my big suitcase was broken off totally during my journey to Kenya. I had filled out a report when I picked up the luggage, and they told me to hand in the bag the next time I'm in town. They'll either fix it - how I don't know - or replace the bag.)
    
24. Was sent from BA's counters to international arrivals to drop off the said luggage.
25. Had to explain to the security dude why there's no Kenyan stamp in my passport. (I had grabbed an old passport when packing. And yes, I have several passports since my country only issues skinny passports and you have to get a new passport when yours is full - they don't add more pages.)
26. Dropped off my bag and was told that BA will get back to me since their official left "just 5 minutes ago."
27. Waited for George.
28. Read some more from the book.
29. Caught up on friends' blogs.
30. Putzed around on my computer.
31. Answered some e-mails.
    
32. Read more.
    
33. Took a nap.
34. Downloaded updates on all my favorite podcasts. (I cannot download audio from my neck of the woods.) And in case you wonder, my favorite podcasts are, they are sermons by John Piper, Chuck Swindoll, Joyce Meyer, Erwin McManaus, and Bill Johnson, and video podcasts from National Geographic's Video Shorts and their NG Atmosphere. My computer will be running all night and probably much of tomorrow, just downloading all the podcasts!
    
35. Read more.
    
36. Made some work phone calls.
37. Ate too many Pringles, which, by the way, you don't get out in Eldoret. Check out their Web site. They don't even show they're in Africa. But then again, according to their site, they're not in Greenland, either. Or anywhere in the Middle East.
38. Made this silly list.
39. Took a long, hot bath. (One of the nicest things about being at the Mayfield.)
40. Read more.
41. Visited with a Mennonite missionary family at dinner time.
42. Pretended to understand what their 2-year-old blue-eyed girl was telling me all through dinner. Did get that they recently had a herd of elephants walk right through their shamba (garden) at night. They live north of Nairobi, near Mt. Kenya.
43. Learned from them that you can get arrested for talking on your cell phone while driving in Nairobi. They'd know. It happened to them today.

I think today can officially count as a restful day. I'll be getting a Mayfield vehicle tomorrow morning, go to get my hair cut, pick up some things in the city, connect with friends, watch a movie, perhaps?

Addendum:
It's almost 11 pm. I've been doing admin work stuff for most of the evening, and my eyes are tired of staring at my computer. Guess I should add that to the list.
44. Punched numbers till my eyes were cockeyed.