On digging out sand flea egg sacks . . . and almost being robbed!

The day started full of promise! A great time with God. Wonderful breakfast with a good friend. And then we headed out to see our little friends down the road. Armed with Dettol, needles, Triple Anti-bacterial ointment, soap, and a huge portion of courage, my friends and I headed out to see what we can do to help the little ones.

As I rounded the corner into their maize (corn) field, little Jepkemboi came running and through her arms around me. It melted my heart! This is the same little one whom I could hardly get to smile last week!
Laura, Mary, Ruth and I settled in for the task before us. Laura had my camera, so she was able to take some photos of the process. (You can see some of the pictures on my Flickr page.) We had only removed 13 egg sacks from the little ones' hands and feet when I couldn't deal with it any more. The kids were in a lot of pain!

Tomorrow, I'll be taking them to a pediatrician who will refer us to a surgeon. The pediatrician said they'd be able to remove them surgically (with local anesthesia). I counted and estimate that each of the three youngest kids have between 80 and 90 lesions! And even while we were sitting there, we killed at least five or so sand fleas (jiggers) that were trying to dig into the little ones' skins. These fleas are very, very small. There's a picture on Flickr of one of them on Kiprop's hand.

I've been careful, using gloves the whole time. However, it would be easy for one of those fleas to dig into your skin even while you're just sitting there, working. Something has to be done about the fleas in the garden and in the house.

So, after dropping off Laura at the airport, I went to the Agro-Vet store to buy poison to spray in the yard. Since I hadn't had time to burn a DVD for Laura with pictures of her time in Kenya, I took my computer to the airport with me. And though I never leave it in the car, I decided to leave my computer bag while I run into the bakery to buy bread. After all, you couldn't see the bag under the bag with poison.

Or so I thought.

After getting bread, I stopped at a street vendor to buy another pair of shoes for the kids. But the guy gave me a ridiculous price when I asked about a pair of used kids' shoes, so I wasn't even going to barter! I just laughed, turned away, and started walking to my car.

My car's higher than the average vehicle on the street, and when I looked down the road to where it was parked, I saw a man getting out of my car . . . with my computer bag in his hands!

The car was parked at least a good 50 meters (around 50 yards) from where I was right then, and I yelled, "NOOOOO!!!!" as I dashed down the road.

EVERYONE stared. Even the guy. He dropped my computer like it was about to explode and ran for his life. Literally. (In Kenya, mob justice is still practiced, and it's acceptable. If he ran with my bag, he'd be slowed down. If other guys caught him, they could literally stone him or kill him with sticks!)

In the few seconds it took me to get to my car, a crowd had gathered, asking if I'm OK, if the guy had gotten away with anything, if I had left the car open.

I was pretty shaken up, not sure for a moment if I was safe even in the crowd... "I'm OK. He didn't get anything. He busted the door lock." As I drove off, still shaking, people were staring. Some were saying how sorry they were. One guy said, "Praise God he didn't take anything." Praise Him indeed!

The corner of my computer is busted from being dropped from about 3 feet high, but it works fine. Nothing broke. Except for the lock to my car. The guy must've busted it with a screw driver.

Until I can get the lock replaced, I'd have to unlock the driver's door from the passenger side. But think about it: If the guy had busted the passenger lock (the side where the bag was, after all), I would not have seen him get out of my car! He'd have been protected by the vehicle itself!

So, as I head to bed tonight, it's with such a mixture of feelings.

Hope for our little friends down the road.

Relief that my computer didn't get stolen.

Frustration that my car door is busted.

Joy for having had friends around for the past two weeks (first Karen, then Laura).

Sadness for being back to a place where much of my journey is walked alone.

But the journey does continue. For now, Flannel simply has to endure listening to my stories.

Flannel, and you.

To read more about tungiasis, the condition my little neighbors have, visit this site.

Cry, the Beloved Country

At times, I am faced with the reality of crime in my dear country. I listen to the news, reporting that crime rates are down for the past year. In fact, a recent BBC article reported that murders and violent attacks are down to just 300 a day. [sic]

Only Columbia and Iraq has higher murder rates, BBC pointed out. The same story quoted the South African president, Mr. Thabo Mbeki, saying, "Nobody can show that the overwhelming majority of the 40 or 50 million South Africans think that crime is out of control."

Three hundred violent crimes, every single day. Not out of control. Wow. This is the same president that claims that HIV/AIDS isn't a problem in my country, while statistics show that we are the country with the highest AIDS rates in the world, with more than 30% of all pregnant women are HIV positive. The link between the high rape rates (151 reported cases a day) and high HIV rates seem obvious to me!

As the director of SA Tourism recently pointed out, "The problem of crime can be solved, but until there is general agreement that there is a problem, we cannot move forward."

Why the fuss? I received an e-mail tonight about a specific murder that has sort of shaken things up again at home. A famous historian, David Rattray, was murdered late January. He had done much for battlefield tourism in South Africa. His life revolved around promoting the Zulu culture. Despite that, he was violently killed.

The specific e-mail I received was written by a former teacher of David Rattray. I choose to post excerpts from it on my blog so you can simply be aware of the condition in my country.

I love that people like Oprah is reaching out and making a difference in my country. We need it. Badly.

"I was fortunate enough to teach a great body of [high school] boys at St Alban's College in the 1970's. Among them was David Rattray. It was not difficult to follow his career after school. Amongst many other things he became an academic by gaining an Honours Degree in Entomology and turned out to be a brilliant businessman, a historian of international repute, a friend of the [British] Royals, a fine husband, proud father, a Zulu linguist and [close friend] of many black South Africans.

"David became a raconteur of note and producer of The Day of the Dead Moon, a mind-blowing, stunning account of the Anglo-Zulu Wars. In this collection of CDs he reiterates time and time again how fine the Zulu people are as a nation.

Apart from Nelson Mandela, I can think of no one else who has done as much for reconciliation. David was an icon and an extremely valuable national asset. Imagine my horror and sadness on the morning of Saturday 27 January 2007, to be greeted a newspaper headlines which read "Historian David Rattray Murdered," only to be followed by the headlines of The Saturday Star - "Crime: What's all the Fuss?"

The Article in The Star goes on to quote some sayings by prominent politicians:

"Nobody can show that the overwhelming majority of the 40- to 50- million South Africans feel that crime is not under control, nobody can because it is not true".
- President Thabo Mbeki

"I don't know why there is a frenzy around this 2010 [World Cup Soccer]. I want to say now that 2010 will come and pass..."
- Head of Police Jackie Selebi

"They can continue to whinge until they're blue in the face... be as negative as they want to, or they can simply leave this country..."
- Charles Nqakula, Minister of Safety and Security

***
As I was listening to the above news clip on YouTube, the facts seem overwhelming.

A day in the life of South Africa
51 murders
151 rapes
347 robberies

But my president says it's not a problem.

Cry, my beloved country. Cry hard. We can but cry out to God for the future of South Africa.