Thursday, February 21, 2019

Yup, couldn’t type again, but not for a lack of trying.  I felt like a newborn, lacking the ability to hold up my own head.  Unlike a newborn, I fell fast asleep.  Today’s a new day, though, and time wasn’t going to wait for us to rest any longer.

The starting time for the grand opening was not very static through the week.  It finally settled on 10am… 10am to 2pm.  “We’ll see,” was the first thought I had.

We headed out close to the scheduled departure, taking some extra time to ensure we had all the supplies intended for the maternity – another 2½ bags of “stuff.”  No games this time.  Items for moms and their newborns – onesies, cloth diapers & pins, baby rattles, and more pads.  

It didn’t take long to get up-close and personal with some animals on the ride out to meet Sue and Ryan. Isaac was in communication with the their driver who was bringing them to meet us.  This is what happens sometimes, especially when it’s windy like today. Hot air balloons don’t have a rudder. When they found us, they let us know that another balloon didn’t go up.  We were all grateful that theirs did.  They had a wonderful time, and informed us that the wind was so high at times that they had to go behind a mountainside to help decrease speed.  En route to the Sekenani Maternity Center, we got REALLY up-close and personal with a group of young cheetahs… then “bumped” into a couple elephants.

We got to the Maternity a little after 10; nervous about being late.  We shouldn’t have been.  Chief Kasoy (the area chief) was the only one there!  He was seated on a bench in front of a large party tent set up providing shade for over 100 chairs sitting on the ground.  There was a DJ with two enormous speakers playing music with the volume (characteristically Kenyan) playing so loud that the tune was distorted. Eventually they turned it down and the speakers stopped straining.  We wandered the grounds looking at the completed maternity center.  Although many of the trees we planted last year did not survive the droubt (or the goats that often wander in), there were a couple that remained. There was a very official looking ribbon at the entrance to the clinic, and everything was beautifully decorated. We finished wandering the grounds, and only 30 minutes had passed.  It wasn’t until closer to 12
that people started to pour in.  Before then, the midwives arrived.  Two of them in particular were excited to see us - Mama Nonkipa and Mama Maria.  Nonkipa came to me and greeted me before moving on to Andrea and Karen.  Mama Maria smiled at me and went right for the girls.  Despite not speaking a lick of English, they always manage to understand each other. You couldn’t wipe the smiles off their faces if you tried.  They had a special bond after we left last year, and the bond still remains.

We were led to our seats (which happened to be in the front row) and were happy that they were still in the shade.  There was also a very strong breeze that gave several men cause to hammer additional rebar into the tent posts to ensure they didn’t fly into the air with the canopy. They held up just fine.  Now that we were seated, people began to fill the remaining seats.  Isaac and his family were directly behind us, but the rest of our row remained empty. 

Chief Kasoy’s boss grabbed the microphone and solicited a young man from the crowd to serve as interpreter.  I would have preferred chief Kasoy, but that probably would have been inappropriate given the situation.  Kasoy’s boss began to berate the crowd!  I knew he was animated about something, but it wasn’t until the interpreter caught up to his words that things became clear.  One; we were still waiting for the “dignitaries” – they’re the ones that will be sitting in the empty seats in our row, and two; shame on everyone for being late and making us (“the visitors”) wait!  He laid into them pretty good.  He then repeated that we were waiting for the District Officer (D.O.), but that she was on her way.

He continued to talk to the crowd explaining the agenda for the day, and then announced that the D.O. had arrived.  We turned to see the police and park officials arrive in front of a second vehicle that held the D.O. and some security.  This was a big deal.  The D.O. reports to the governor and commands a lot of respect here.  When the door to the Land Cruiser opened, everyone stood and remained standing until she joined us under the tent and took a seat to my right. Now, it’s party time!

They then called upon a local pastor to say a prayer.  He did his best to get the crowd whooped up, but I don’t think it was working.  When he finished, our friend Chief Kasoy took the microphone and asked the crowd to clap.  They obliged.  He also gave a stern commentary about the timeliness of the crowds arrival.  We looked behind us and estimated 100 people were there.  We looked back 20 minutes later, and it was well over 200.  Soon thereafter, it was time for the ribbon cutting. Madam D.O. and I were handed scissors.  Appropriately, mine were medical sheers – the kind I used to use to cut the tape off my ankles in college.  Madam got the regular scissors.  I was very glad that there were two ribbons, because mine cut through the ribbon like butter.  Madam’s didn’t make a dent.  They were more like those scissors you use in kindergarten that don’t really cut anything. I switched positions and let her cut the other ribbon on her own… it took 4 or 5 “cuts” to get through, but she managed.

A tour ensued that led us into each room with doctor explaining the traffic flow when someone enters the birthing center.  A couple comments were made about them waiting for additional supplies from the government (tell me about it, part of the agreement with them was they would build staffing quarters when the maternity was finished… we’re still waiting, too), but the mic drop came when I said that we still need to widen the walk-in gate to accommodate an ambulance.  The doctor actually said, “Madam has blocked that.”  I turned and looked at her and the expression on her face was, “I hope you enjoy working in Kibera.”  You could actually hear the bus ride over her.  He continued on, but not before a member of madam’s security detail grabbed me and asked for a picture.   As it was being taken, he said, “Do you feel safe?”  I responded, “I do now!”  That made him laugh, and Madam smiled.  You’ll notice I keep referring to her as “Madam.”  That’s only because nobody knew her name… that’s what everyone calls her!  Whe headed back ou the same way we came in and returned to the program.

Several people spoke, some of them we’ve never met, but the message was always the same.  They were incredibly appreciative for the investment in their community.  Every word of thanks was met with head nods and applause from the crowd – no prompting needed. The doctors from the clinic and the maternity were called up and comments were made.  A large group of women from the crowd then came up and sung a few songs.  Their voices were beautiful and rhythmic, and I can only imagine how they sounded as their voices were carried on the wind accross the savanna.  The midwives were next, and they went the longest.  Earlier in the program, Chief Kasoy had to actually start moving to take the microphone right out of the hand of the person holding it.  It’s not like the grammy awards where they begin playing music as a cue.  There may be a DJ here, but he’s struggling with controls on the soundboard – music starts and stops with no apparent reason, and they (yes, there’s 3 behind the board) struggle to find the right button to push.

When Madam D.O. spoke, however, there was no way Chief Kasoy was going to take them mic.  He’d be joining Doctari in the Kibera slum if he did. The words she spoke were powerful despite her soft tone.  She started off by saying that she, like many in the crowd, is a mother.  Also like many in the crowd, she gave birth to her son a few years ago in this facility (the clinic) before the maternity was built, and she remembers some things vividly. The building was cramped and scary with no room for anyone except the 16 year old girl who was giving birth when she arrived.  She thought, “What weel these beeldeeng be like when I have my next baby?”  “Why is this 16 year old girl pregnant?”  She attacked the latter first.  She called on the women to talk to their daughters, and spoke directly to the men to tell them it was wrong.  “Children should not be making more children.”  She then moved onto the facility.  This new facility is wonderful and we are grateful for it.  It is imperative that al women come here to give birth.  It is clean, it is safe, and it does everything to ensure that you and your baby are given the best care.”  She followed up by saying that she looks forward to having her second child in this new Birthing Center.

She then moved onto education of girls.  No mention of the education of boys, which I thought was awesome.  Taking into account that this was the first time all students were enjoying a one week mid term break, she said, “If your daughters are not in secondary school on Monday, shame on you.  If you can’t afford it, the government will help pay for it.  You have no excuses.  Take your daughters to get enrolled if you have not already done so. We have a future president under this tent, but that won’t happen without education.”  I was hoping for a more tumultuous applause than she received, but that only meant that they were listening.

Isaac then was able to speak, and the midwives went up at wrapped him in a beautiful new shuka.  I came up next to speak.  I thanked everyone for their kind words and spoke about the tribe that were now members of.  “We couldn’t be more proud to be members of this family,” I told them. That elicited some excited responses. I spoke of my support of the words that Madam D.O. said, and how much we support them.  While speaking,

Mama Marie came and wrapped a shuka around me and placed a cowtail staff in my hand.  It was an honor to receive them both.  I was then joined by Andrea, Karen, Sue and Ryan.  Women emerged from the crowd and immediately dressed them in traditional Masai garb.  The women received 3 different materials on them before being adorned in beaded jewely. Ryan was wrapped in a shuka then given a beaded bracelet.  They each made some brief comments then we presented the bags containing cloth diapers, pins, pads and onesies.  When we finished showing them what we brought, Karen brought a onsie and some diapers to Madam D,O. and said, “This is for your second baby.” She beamed as Karen smiled at her.  She spent quite a bit of time with when the ceremony ended.

The pastor was once again called on to say a prayer.   This time, he was the one whipped into a frenzy!  With that, the program ended… now it was time for photos.  Madam was a popular… VERY popular.  At one point she said, “Guys, come on!”  As if to say, “Do you really need to have another picture of me and you?”    Karen came up, and she was happy to take a picture with her. “We both have dimples,” she said.  It was a nice photo of them both, and a nice memory for each of them.

Pictures were being taken everywhere on the compound.  Different groups with different people and someone holding 3 cell phones and a camera… switching between each.  Finally, everyone was done and the crowds dispersed.  We knew lunch was coming next, but as it turned out, lunch wasn’t coming to us, we were going to it.  Chief Kasoy was having us to his home for lunch! 

When we arrived, there were a couple tables sitting on the savannah behind his home – we were separated by a tall hedgerow that was so dense, we were unable to see his home through it… the roof was barely visible above the leaves.  We sat around the table and were served drinks while we waited. A young boy with the equivalent of a “Home Depot” bucket came running out of the bush.  Although there were leaves hanging out of the bucket, there were also two legs… from a goat.  They were also already barbecued.  We were told the leaves do nothing to change the flavor of the meat, and instead, just keep it cool… because, apparently, that’s how you want to eat goat in the bush. Other items arrived and landed on the large table.  Mashed potatoes and greens and chipati.  They ran out of forks so I made to with my hands and used the chipati to pick up the greens and potatoes.  Sometimes that’s just how you’ve got to roll.
I was sitting next to the chief who pulled the leg out of the bucket.  Isaac was on the other side of him, and he pulled out a machete and began cutting and passing the pieces to those present.  It was delicious.  Seriously. Not only did we get large chunks cut off the leg, but they also came around and handed each person a rib! This required a little more inscisor that the softer leg meat – still tasty, though.

The same boy who came with the goat meat sat down behind me in the shade of a tree and began mixing something in another bucket.  This time it was soup.  Now I’ve heard them refer to sauce as soup, but never really seen soup, soup, until now. The “mixing stick” came from a tree that has groupings of three branches perpendicular to the stalk about every foot. It must look like something out of a Dr. Seuss book.  When you cut off one end beneath the three branch levels on the bottom, you end up with something that looks like a microphone stand with the legs flat and intersecting the main piece.  Then you spin it by rubbing your hands together and working them down the shaft at the same time.  It’s actually the same way they generate friction/heat to start a fire, although they use a different type of wood for that.  This was an honor to be served the soup.  I drank half of my cup before giving up.  It had a familiar taste that I had difficulty identifying.  Then I asked them how they made it.

Remove the eyes and the brain from the goat’s head and put it in a pot.  Do I need to go any further?  I didn’t think so.  They add herbs, and a hoof or two.  Any straggling hairs will be removed during the straining process after.  The barbecued goat had no such “quality control.” I can tell you that it had black and white fur.  It did not deter me from eating.  When in Rome…
I looked at Andrea and said, “Do NOT drink this.”  She put the cup down, and Leah, who was on the other side of her said, “You have to dreek eet or offend the ownah.”  She drank one sip.  That was enough.  Then there was Karen.  She took a sip and swallowed.  The next series of events happened in slow motion.  She put her hands to her mouth almost immediately as she was rising from the chair.  Her head learched forward a bit, but whatever rose from her stomach was pushed back down. She turned to walk toward the jeep that was parked a couple hundred feet away.  There was no cover – no tree to hide behind, no bush to bend over in front of. She almost made it to the jeep before the pressure cooker burst.  Rest assured, she’ll be hungry later.  Whether she eats or not will be an entirely different story.

I engaged Chief Kasoy and Isaac in conversation to draw their attention away from the other end of the table – Andrea had already gone to help Karen.  Like a good mom, she held her hair while she heaved.  Sue and Ryan watched it all with great concern. We’ll all be laughing about it later.  

Chief Kasoy then sent someone inside of his mud and dung home for the kalabash.  Another honor was about to be bestowed upon us.  A kalabash is a long gord-like container that the masai use to make “yogurt.”  Only they don’t call it yogurt.  They pour goat milk in it and then place it inside their home for a few days.  Yup, a few days.  Then, out it comes.  They have to shake it up before serving it in a cup like it’s tea.  It’s not tea.  It’s definitely not tea.  It tasted like goat fat and milk, only thicker.  Good news, though.  No hair in this one.  That’s two thumbs up!  Then I drank it.  This falls under the, “Things that make you go hmm,” category.  I don’t know what this stuff is.  Is it yogurt?  Is it cheese? Is it cheegurt?  It makes me think of a Saturday Night Live skit.  “It’s a floor wax!  It’s a dessert topping!”  I’m not sure what it is, but it’s definitely special.  Seriously.  It’s got the consistency of a smoothie, but it also feels like there are tiny pieces of straw in it, too.  Actually, they feel like ¼” or ½” rigid hairs.  Again with the hairs… I know it’s not hair.  It couldn’t be, right?  Regardless, I finish the concoction with a smile and graciously decline a second helping. I try not to think if my digestive track is going to have a different opinion of my latest consumption.  We’ll see.

We snapped some additional pictures before climbing back into our jeep for the ride back to Sarova. We laughed and joked the entire way back.  

We had some time to pack ahead of tomorrow’s departure so we took advantage of it, and what better way to finish up this day than with a bush dinner!  We finished "lunch at 5, and the dinner was scheduled for 7.  We weren't sure how it was going to work out, but it was fabulous.  We were driven out into the mara in abject darkness.  If it weren't for the headlights, we wouldn't have even seen our hands in front of our faces.  As we rounded a bend in the road, we saw a roaring fire... and I mean roaring.  The embers rose into the night air and flickered across the black sky mixing with the bright stars overhead.  We had thick trees to our right and to our left.
A long table large enough to accommodate all of us sat in the middle of the open section of field. There were two chefs behind individual tables.  One serving different meats (chicken beef & goat), and the other serving vegetables and helping with soup and salads.  Before we could get to the food, however, we were greeted by a masai dressed in traditional garb - a long bright red chukka with pale yellow and black stripes was wrapped around him.  He talked to us about the evening and what to expect.  Then he asked us to say a traditional masai welcome.  Karen sidled up next to me - she knew what was coming.  She and I were on a bush dinner many years ago, and she wasn't going to be taken by surprise again.  When I say "surprise" I mean "scared."  We were asked to yell the welcome louder, and we obliged.  Before the last syllable left our mouths, 9 more masai came running out of the darkness making loud noises and stood between us around the fire.  They then did another traditional song for us.  Ryan once again joined in and took part in the "jumping contest."  It wasn't long before we were sipping wine or cold beer, eating delicious food, and telling fabulous stories.  We could have stayed there all night.  It's unusual, but we actually DID stay until the truck showed up to pick the tables, chairs and barbecues... AND ISAAC'S BROTHER WAS DRIVING THE TRUCK!  Everyone remain seated!

Anthony gave everyone a hug and pulled up another chair.  Because we were leaving the next day, we had to hear the "Buffalo Story."  It was a doozy.    Apparently, Anthony had a single guest from Sarova out on a game drive.  They got a flat tire out on the mara so Anthony pulled over to change the flat.  He was removing the lug nuts when the hairs on the back of his neck stood up.  He looked around but didn't see anything.  He returned to the flat, but not for long.  He looked again, and found himself face to face with a solitary Cape Buffalo.  Sidebar:  Cape Buffalo wander in huge herds.  When you find a solitary buffalo, it's not good.  They are incredibly dangerous.  Incredibly.  Okay, back to the story.  So, Anthony finds himself staring at a solitary buffalo.  The guest thankfully was still inside the jeep.  Anthony instinctively dives under the jeep to try and protect himself.  The buffalo slams into the door next to him.  The guest is screaming in terror.  The buffalo hit the jeep again, then sits down on Anthony's legs that are sticking out from underneath the jeep.  Recap:  Anthony's guest is in hysterics inside the jeep while Anthony is partially under the jeep with a 1,000lb cape buffalo laying on his legs.  Yeah, I know what you're thinking.  "Holy ship!"  Yup, me too.  Anywho... After some time passes, the buffalo gets up, but he's still pissed.  Anthony gets out from under the car and the buffalo starts chasing him around the vehicle, periodically banging into the vehicle.  He manages to get into the vehicle and drive away.  The buffalo pursues, ramming into the back of the jeep twice, sending the guests suitcases flying onto the mara.  His clothes are blowing across the mara as they flee, but the buffalo loses interest when another vehicles passes by.  In the end, Anthony (and the guest) escaped unharmed.  The land rover was not so lucky - two broken doors, broken rear gate, and a damaged front end.  This is how legends are made...
We finally packed ourselves back into Isaac's land rover and headed back to our rooms to finish packing.  We'll be heading out early for a game drive before breakfast and our departure to Jomo  Kenyata International Airport.  As I tried to type an entry from two days ago, my mind seemed to let go of the control it had on my fingers, and when I woke up there was nothing but gibberish on the page.  I knew that I hadn't dozed for long as there were only a few lines of consonants on the page.  I couldn't type anymore, and gave into the fatigue once again.  We'll try again tomorrow... I'm sure I'll be able to type on my way through the Rift Valley.
Here are some fun pictures that we took today that I didn't have room for above.