Back to School (ish)

After the Nairobi Mombasa travels we had a quiet week in Iten (hand) washing clothes, sitting in our sunny green garden and hanging around with the Kenyans and the Irish Patrician Brothers. 

We finally went to see Kamariny Stadium, the rundown municipal stadium where all the greats do their training.  We are probably the  first white people EVER in Iten who waited two months before visiting it. Most mzungus only come to Iten if they are athletes or their groupies.  We went to watch Bro Colm put his team through their paces and it was fascinating to hear him listing off the races each had won in national, African or Junior World Championships.  He mostly works with juniors and has only two seniors in his training camp, one of whom is David Rudisha.  The Beijing World Championships were just about to start and as we sat with him, he and David were texting each other.  Rudisha won gold in the 800m at that event (for those as clueless as I was prior to coming to Iten).  Kenya went on to top the medal table in Beijing, with Jamaica in second place and the USA in third place.  Their respective populations (44m; 2.7m and 319m) shows the real significance of those rankings.  I heard a story later about how Kenya treats its elite athletes – they get very little government support and have to fend for themselves much of the time.  When Rudisha was travelling to the 2012 Olympics in London he looked for a business class seat as he's very tall but word came back from the Kenyan Olympic Committee to say only officials travelled first class! He won gold in the 800m in London, setting a new World record at the same time.

Colm reckoned about a third of the Kenyan team in Beijing had been coached by him at some point. I wondered whether we should claim the Rudisha gold medal by virtue of he being trained by an Irishman.

    Bro Colm O Connell training his team

As we were waiting for Colm to arrive, we had been watching other athletes on the track and I was taking a few action photos with my iphone. As I looked through them I noticed how hardly any showed the runners with their feet on the ground.  True enough, as I checked in real life it was amazing, their feet hardly seemed to touch the track at all, they land on their toes and are so light they bounce up again in nanoseconds. 

    Feet not touching the ground

In November Colm will host his annual event where he handpicks promising school-age athletes and gives them an opportunity to be coached for several weeks at his training camp. He has to fundraise for this as most of the athletes come from poor rural families and have neither training kit nor living expenses. I know some of the Athletics Clubs in Ireland to which he is giving talks during his stay at home in September are taking up a collection for him. A topic to which I shall return in a later post.

Running with the Kenyans (5yr olds are Kenyans too)

Iarlaith has taken up running for his Transition Year Gaisce Award challenge and I, being Kenya's first (and only) Helicopter Mom get up at 6am with him and go out for a 7km jog three mornings a week. If truth be told I jog with him for the warmup and then he's gone. Siobhra has now joined us, anxious to regain her place on the Kildare GAA team when we return. Iten is buzzing with runners at that time and we share the dirt tracks on which everyone runs. We also encounter little children walking to school for a 6.30 or 7am start, looking in amusement at the only jogger they have ever seen in their lives. Some run along beside me for a short time laughing and trying to show me up - but little do they know they have now given me the opportunity to truthfully update my CV to include 'Running with the Kenyans' in the Hobbies section.

As it happens, having finished the Mau Mau era book about colonial Kenya, hoping for some light relief, I moved on to 'Running with the Kenyans', a book written by a Guardian journalist. The book I had just finished about Britain's Gulags doesn't really end that happily for the victims, despite Kenya getting independence a few short years later. The first President, Jomo Kenyatta, decided it would be better to have a smooth transition which involved not having any recognition of Mau Mau's role in challenging colonial oppression or investigations into what happened to the Kikuyu population in the detention centres, the depravity of which is detailed in the book. The white settlers were allowed to keep all their stolen land and in that bizarre world which is colonialism the Kenyan government even had to borrow millions of pounds from the British Empire's Treasury to buy back their own land at market rates from settlers who wanted to leave following independence. In fairness the Fennelly report would be light reading after that. The sordid period seems to have been swept under all carpets although I read recently of some survivors who finally got compensation this summer in London, in a court case several years long and fought all the way by the British Government.

   Iten in the early morning light

    The long road ahead

    Siobhra running with the Kenyans

     On the way to school at 6.30am by themselves

So the Guardian journalist, Adharanand Finn, (of Irish descent with hippy parents apparently) spent six months in Iten running with the Kenyans. He and his family lived in the house where we now live and it is very interesting to read his accounts of things which form part of our lives, like the pigeons constantly fighting and dancing on the tin roof of the house so it sounds like someone is breaking in or buying milk and eggs from Geoffrey in the little wooden kiosk right outside our gate. It hasn't quite inspired me to train for a marathon in the Masai Mara but I might do the Kildare Carers Association 10km when I get back (invest in your future as Newbridge wag, Mary Doyle, would say). Siobhra was very unimpressed by Mr Finn's children who only lasted one day in the local school. 

    Geoffrey's hatch shop outside our gate

A week after we arrived back from Nairobi we decided to get in a trip to Lake Nakuru National Park before the kids went back to school. On the way down we visited James Hennessy and a charity he runs in Mogotio, a semi arid region close to Nakuru. A Corkonian, James has been living in Kenya on local wages for eight years, speaks fluent Swahili and is Bro Colm's cousin (second cousin twice removed type of thing). The charity is called Development Pamoja and is mainly funded through Ireland, with Electric Aid as one of the donors, a colleague organisation of St Stepehen's Green Trust. Hopefully I'll get a chance to tell them how impressed I was with the project. They have recently built a dispensary which is the first for the local community and they focus on disability, particularly cerebral palsy, a very neglected area in Kenya. 

    Kieran and James Hennessy from Mallow 

    Growing tomatoes in the greenhouse

They have a sessional physio, doctor and lab technician who provides services to a very rural population at an affordable price. Our little car nearly didn't make it on the very rough track out to their remote premises. They also have two greenhouses and a farm they use for both demonstration and income generation purposes. They built two large lined attenuation ponds which fill with water during the rains and which is used to irrigate the greenhouses and crops. They also grow fruits and and have the ever present chickens and goats. A shed has been built for the dairy cows which are coming soon. They offer a service to local farmers to help them with the construction of the ponds if they buy the materials. Drought has been a problem for the past few years and they say their ponds have already had an impact.

We stayed in James's friend and work colleague's apartment in Nakuru in an airbnb setup. We had the entire two bed apartment to ourselves and Mary cooked breakfast and a delicious dinner for the princely sum of e15 each per night. 

James even offered to try and get us into the national park at residents prices as they are about a quarter of the tourist prices, but no luck. We were in the Park very early to catch the Big Four which reside there, and while we saw buffalo and a rhino the lions and leopards eluded us. However we were also happy with getting up close and personal with the giraffes and zebras, lots of gazelles and various monkeys and baboons. 

    Rhino in the distance

     Zebra crossing

Back to school.....

We got many confirmations from locals throughout August that all schools started back on Monday 31st so we had everything sorted well in advance: ironed uniforms, polished shoes and sharpened pencils. However a few days beforehand it emerged that St Patrick's would ease their way into the week, teachers might return Tuesday, boarders might dribble back Tuesday and Wednesday and sure there's no hurry. Siobhra was up and ready on Monday but when we went to her school at 8am the gate was locked and we found out it'd probably be open by Wednesday. There was talk of a teachers' strike and by the time Wednesday came around it was confirmed - the public school teachers were on strike but the children still had to attend school. Siobhra is in a private school which was operating as normal. 

    Siobhra back to school, Iarlaith not

Iarlaith decided he would be fine for Thursday, a decision which nearly got him a caning. When he went in, the teachers had given work to the boys who were present on Wednesday and the Maths teacher didn't want to hear the excuses of those who said they hadn't done it because they weren't in the previous day.  She made those boys kneel beside their chair and then proceeded to walk around the room caning them on the backs of their legs. She left Iarlaith till last and when she got to him she said 'I suppose I can't hit you'. He said his legs were a bit wobbly when he got up - glad of his mzungu status. For the next week the boys stayed in the classroom by themselves occasionally getting a visit from a teacher who handed out work. As all teachers live on campus they were in the vicinity and kitchen and secretarial staff were still working. Striking teachers don't picket the schools but stage rallies outside their union offices or in public parks. 

The following week the Principal of St Patrick's said the school was being closed and all boarders (apart from Form 4 who start their KCSE or Leaving Cert exams early November) were to go home. Iarlaith hasn't had any school since and the strike has been Kenya's hottest topic for the past few weeks. The teachers are seeking a 50/60% increase which the Kenyan Supreme Court has ordered the Government to pay.  The Court Order upholds a decision of the Labour Court in a dispute which goes back to 1997. 

From our discussions with teachers it seems their pay is very low - from about €160per month for junior teachers to about €450 for teachers at the top of their scale. Many things in Kenya are quite cheap but even the top salary is not much above subsistence level and many have to farm or undertake other income producing activities to supplement it. Kemboi, a young teacher who lives in the house beside us grew tomatoes in the garden during the summer and sold them to the local market stalls. Compare this with the pay for President Uhuru Kenyatta whose monthly income is €9,800, not to mention his income from his family's massive company, Brookside Dairies. We're a bit perplexed by the status of teachers in Kenya given how much education seems to be valued. 

In one of Iarlaith's conversations with his classmates he explained the Irish minimum wage law to them and when he said it was €8.65, they were incredulous and said ' Wow, €8.65 a day?'. When he told them it was an hour they were just speechless. It's not easy to explain how this is not a living wage for many Irish families. 

    Religious iconography and Biblical phrases are all the go on the Matatus, in the apparent hope they            will keep them safe, thus permitting the crazy driving.

   Kenya is a country on the move, lots of building with scary scaffolding

   The items carried by motorbikes continue to amaze us

   First class Boda Boda travel - we've since seen a three seater on a motorbike

Siobhra was in school as normal for the past few weeks until the government threw a spanner in the works weekend before last by ordering all private schools to close as well, although not all complied. And despite her initial joy she wasn't too upset when we got a text last Thursday to say school was back the following day, a court ruled the government could not order private schools to close.

Iarlaith is undertaking self directed study (ahem) and is doing a placement in the nearby Kerio View Hotel for his Transition Year credits. He gets to work behind the bar which wouldn't happen at home. Kieran whose Tambach Teacher Training College job is on hold also due to the strike is travelling to the local (private) schools to do photo shoots of pupils and teachers. He gives them the photos on a memory stick and some are planning to sell them to parents as a fundraising venture.

   Iarlaith on his way to work in the Kerio View Hotel

In the meantime I have been keeping myself busy working for the Diocese of Eldoret. Late August I followed up an introduction to Bishop Cornelius Korir of Eldoret made by a work colleague several months ago. The Diocese has management oversight of many of the social services in the area, through their social services arm, Caritas Eldoret - something similar to Crosscare in Dublin. In Iten there are several special schools and residential units for children with physical and intellectual disabilities and I thought one might have some use for my skills.

Kieran and I went to meet with Bishop Korir, expecting he might point me in the right direction. But twenty minutes later we were in the office of the Director of Caritas Eldoret - my offer of helping in the area of Foundation funding and grant writing being enthusiastically received.  Another fifteen minutes later and we were being taken on a site visit to meet with the Coordinator of the Small Homes Department to see the orthopaedic unit which requires funding for more tools and materials so they can manufacture and repair the mobility aids of the children. Small Homes are residential units for children with disabilities, housing up to 30 children and using local State schools to educate them.

Traditional beliefs see disability as a punishment for the family's sins and children are often kept hidden at home and not educated. The Diocese operates an outreach service encouraging families to allow their children to live in the Small Homes so they get an education and are given mobility aids which aids their integration into the community. They also work with families educating them to see the potential in their child and change their views on disability so they can be advocates. One of their graduates is a man in a wheelchair I see going to work each morning in the local county offices in Iten. Through funding from a foundation he went to university and achieved a Masters in Finance and now lives in Iten with his wife and children. 

Another project we visited that day was the SILC Department, funded by U.S. Aid, which runs a very successful Savings and Internal Lending Communities model, something like a micro credit union (although more democratic, more transparent and less bureaucratic) which assists small businesses. 

   Sr Alice and Absolom from the Orthopaedic Unit

We then visited the Education for Living unit which is managed by the Christian Brothers and whose building was funded by Misean Cara (Irish Aid) in those shipping container units we also saw in Nairobi. This programme works with people with HIV/AIDS and those affected by the disease. It includes trying to break down the stigma and reduce discrimination against those who have it, including young children. You know it's Africa when you end up dancing with your hosts to the singing of the Education for Living choir at 11 in the morning. Unfortunately I don't have photos to prove it, but anyone who knows Kieran will know his dancing is generally reserved for events which involve alcoholic consumption so this was a special occasion. Our final visit was to St Brigittas Hospital which provides general hospital services to a slum community just outside Eldoret. The effects of the post election violence of 2008 is still being felt in Eldoret and many families have not recovered from being displaced from their homes or losing everything they owned. That's it - I was hired, and even given a title, Project Officer with Caritas Eldoret! 

   Education for Life Choir - a minute later we were up dancing with them

Next blog I'll write more on the work I've been doing including being an observer at peace talks between tribes in a conflict in Baringo County which has claimed over 100 lives in the last year. 

On The Road

Siobhra and I arrived back in Nairobi on Sat 1st August after a smooth Ethiopian Airlines flight through Addis Adaba. On the stopover we met a Malawian man on his way home having visited funders of his community food project in the U.S.. He said he was the busiest man in his country who had received many civic awards for his humanitarian work,  a businessman who some years previously had ended up feeding 10,000 people from his home. He had developed his aid work to incorporate a food processing plant to have a sustainable approach. My experience thus far is many Africans are not behind the door about coming forward and the Irish affliction of understatement is a concept unknown here. However I may well have encountered an amazing human being - that's how it can go when you hang around airports.

He blamed the second Malawian President for making the country dependent on food aid and thought his fellow countrymen were too inclined to sit back and accept aid rather than focusing on sustainable development. This perspective was interesting as in Kenya I've found a great focus on finding local solutions and the development of sustainable approaches to issues such as food insecurity. Several of the projects we have visited, mostly homes for children rescued from the streets struggle to have enough food for the children. 

Kieran and Iarlaith awaited us in the blazing sunshine of the airport which was still resplendent after the visit of the Leader of the Free World the previous week. They took us back to the salubrious surroundings of Flora Hostel close to the city centre, run by the Consolata Sisters, an Italian Order.. It was clean and cheap and reminded me of the one year I spent in boarding school. We paid about €23 per night each for full board. Free wifi was available if you sat very close to reception. Breakfast was between 7pm and 7.30pm and had a variety of dishes - uji (a tasteless brown runny maize porridge) bread, Blueband margarine,  jam and tea. The children's eyes lit up anytime there was cornflakes.

Driving along a Nairobi road one day, there was a collective 'Uuggghh' when we spotted a massive billboard advert with a serving suggestion to have some Blueband with your ugali. Many who have experienced both will understand the reaction.

    Children collecting firewood is a regular sight, many much younger than this group

   Human mules were particularly common in Mombasa

Lunch and dinner had a similar window, a half hour, and was the usual Kenyan fare of either rice, ugali, potatoes, spinach, beans & corn, meat stew, chicken. Once there was dahl and another time avocados. There was always a salad of leaves and tomatoes and fruit for dessert. A bell was rung in the compound to alert us to opening time. It was important not to dilly dally as when it was gone, it was gone. Latecomers were left with the uji, ugali and spam. 

We discovered a Java cafe around the corner which was a retreat when the Blueband and uji became too much. But with its Irish prices, we generally ate with the other pilgrims. There were mostly Europeans staying in the hostel, including some Church groups. There was a church on site and on Sunday morning it had security guards checking everyone going in to Mass.

The security checks in Nairobi are much greater than Eldoret where there are guards at the entrance to banks and supermarkets only. While purchasing train tickets on Saturday we had to go through airport-like X-ray checks and only people travelling or getting tickets were allowed into the station. However like many such efforts it was nonsense. At Nairobi train station you can enter a cafe without checks from the public road which has a seating area on the railway platform. We know it well as a few days later we sat at it for the four hours late train to take us to Mombasa.

   Precarious looking branches being used as acrows and scaffolding. 

Brother Placido, a Kenyan Parrician Brother took us to the Nairobi National museum the following day - Sunday. We had the hard neck to try (unsuccessfully) to be admitted as Kenyan residents as the entrance price was about a sixth of what it cost for Kenyans - we paid e12 each. This has been a feature of our travels with hotels, national parks and tourist attractions often having a much lower fee for Kenyans. The only place we successfully negotiated a residents rate was in the Giraffe Centre the next day, saying we lived in Kenya and showing evidence of a Kenyan bank account, which was just as well as it was only worth the two euro we paid rather than the ten we might have paid.

The museum's most interesting exhibits included evidence against Creationism (see First Impressions blog post) and were fascinating. It is amazing to see from what we have evolved.  Humanid skulls, several million years old have been found in various parts of Kenya. 

There was also an exhibit on the history of colonialism detailing the many atrocities carried out by our friends and neighbours the British Empire in the name of bringing 'civilisation'. As with all settler colonies it had more to do with white supremacy and theft of land and resources. Not having much knowledge of same I have been reading a fascinating book, 'Imperial Reckoning - The untold story of Britain's Gulag in Kenya' which includes harrowing accounts of the way the largest tribe, Kikuyus, were treated during the 1950s. Mass detention, torture and starvation with widespread murder were the order of the day.  

The comprehensive evidence, only unearthed by a U.S. researcher in the past 10 years presents a much different picture of the Mau Mau 'savages' I have a vague memory of hearing about many decades ago. The biggest wonder to me is why mzungus don't get spat at on the streets by every Kikuyu living here. I have no doubt but that Britian's rule has had a huge hand in the more negative aspects of current Kenyan society including misogyny (Christian fundamentalism is a legacy of bringing 'civilisation'), corruption and dependency on food aid. Large white settler farms are still prevalent in Kenya. The British modus operandi of 'divide and rule'included appointing loyalists as chiefs and creating a two tier structure involving stealing Kikuyu farmland for 'gifting' to collaborators as well as white settlers who came out after WW2. 

On Monday we visited the David Sheldrick elephant sanctuary, where the public get to greet the orphans for an hour each day watching them getting fed by their keepers. Some of the elephants are there recovering because they were caught in poacher's snares, have been abandoned by their mothers, because they couldn't keep up with the herd or fell down wells in the wild. Poaching is a huge issue in Kenya and armed guards patrol the sanctuary.  The elephants are fed infant formula every three hours, 24/7, so the keepers have to sleep beside them. During the 'show' the chief keeper spoke about the conservation work of the organisation in a very interesting talk. 

After a visit to the mildly interesting Giraffe sanctuary we headed for the train station with high hopes for our first class train tickets to Mombasa, especially as they had cost us €140 for the four of us. While we were buying them in the 'Upper Class Booking Office' on Saturday, we were assured we would board the train at 7pm and be in Mombasa by 10.30am the next morning.  (Tip: if you are speaking to Kieran about this at some future date, please ensure you have a large supply of blood pressure tablets to hand).

Along with the 20 or so others (it seemed mostly tourists) we sat at the restaurant on the platform only checking in with the station manager when the train was an hour late. It was on its way apparently, just being washed around the corner. After three hours he had gone home so we had to take deep breaths and cross our fingers. It was almost 11pm when it finally arrived, probably tactical on their part as the mismatch between expectations and the reality of our first class sleeper was the least of our concerns, we were tired and hungry. We were fed the standard Kenyan dinner with threadbare linen tablecloths and we could only guess at the former glory of the 50yr old train.

We woke up as the train finally creaked out of the station at 3.30am - with any luck we would only be the 7 and a half hours late and would reach Mombasa by 6pm. We hoped we would reach our final destination of Jumia Resort beside the Indian Ocean in good time for dinner. We had arranged to stay at the same hotel as Gerry O Donoghue and the children, staff and volunteers of Maintain Hope, a children's home in Nairobi. The 32 children were having their first ever holiday, their first ever trip to the seaside courtesy of funds raised by the Irish volunteers.

    If you meet someone on the corridor, there is a lot of backing up involved

The first twelve hours on the train were pleasant enough looking out at the rolling countryside, waving to the many-uniformed children, everyone walking somewhere. We just read, dozed and ate. The captain had come to the dining car at breakfast apologising for the delay, saying the driver had assured him we would arrive by 8pm (now 10hrs late) and they would throw in an extra lunch. 

After spending about two hours sitting in a siding for a goods train to pass (a reflection of the value of the respective cargoes), we trundled through Tsavo National Park and got to see our first elephants and zebras in the wild just before dark.  We couldn't understand how the train was viable. As well as the dining car staff, there was a bedding attendant (who had made up the beds for us the previous night as we ate dinner) and at least two armed guards. There were about 12 carriages on the train, most of which were empty. All along the route we could see the new high speed train being constructed by the Chinese, complete with Chinese foremen and Mao-like slogans on big banners.

    

    Kenyans ignoring the exhortations of their Chinese friends. Not sure what the shoes are about.

We finally arrived in Mombasa at 12.15 that night - exhausted - over 24 hours on the train and arriving 12hrs late. There were a few mzungus on the platform waiting to board and they guffawed when we told them how long we had been on the train. A few weeks later we learned how lucky we actually had been when speaking to an Irish guy living in Kenya for the past eight years. His experience of the Nairobi Mombasa train was of having been kicked off half way there apparently because another train had 'derailed' further up the line. They were left to fend for themselves. We didn't even ask the ludicrous question of whether he had got a refund.

Luckily Gerry had offered to send a taxi for us as the hotel was in Kunamai Beach about 45 minutes outside Mombasa on the northern coast. Poor Vitalis had to wait three hours for us as he had left by the time we realised the ETA was now midnight and not 9pm as thought earlier that evening. It was great to get an Irish welcome at the hotel and a cold glass of tamarind juice. Our rooms were comfortable and clean and we fell asleep to the sounds of the waves of the Indian Ocean outside our door.

The next day we were welcomed into the wild and wonderful world of Maintain Hope. It took about five minutes for Siobhra to be whisked away by Elizabeth for breakfast with the girls. Iarlaith's introduction was at a more teenagery pace but he soon teamed up with Brian, James and Joe.

   

    Fun in the sun with all our new friends

Kildare readers will be familiar with the work of Maintain Hope. Gerry O Donoghue and his colleagues fundraise constantly so they can continue to pay for the rent, school fees and healthcare of the 24 girls and boys aged between five and eighteen who live in a 3-bed house in Ngong, near Nairobi. The home was (unintentionally) started by Maintain Hope's Director, Jane, when she was 18yrs old rescuing some street children and taking them into her own home. It has since developed into a community organisation and developed to providing a home for 24 children. School and college fees have grown with the children. Most of the children were orphaned and had been rescued from the streets. One 11yr old Masai girl had been rescued two years previously having been married at age nine. Her husband was jailed and she was left to fend for herself on the streets. The newest arrival is a three month old baby, Hope, who was abandoned at the gates of the home.

    Iarlaith and James stepping it out at the last night party, men dance with men and women with     women

   Siobhra and Elizabeth got picked by the acrobats at the party

But this was all in the background as the eight Irish volunteers played with, cuddled and scolded the children (as the occasion necessitated), just like any other holiday with a crowd of boisterous children. The hotel swimming pool was a favourite with all and at day six, the children were now very comfortable in the water. The volunteers from Kildare, Carlow and Cork had raised money so the children could go on this fabulous holiday of a lifetime. The benefits were plain for all to see. Iarlaith and Siobhra had a great time with the gang and when their bus left the following day, it didn't take long for Siobhra to announce her loneliness for her new friends. 

We stayed for another few days relaxing at the pool and eating the three large meals a day which were part of the package. Gerry had helped us negotiate a great rate of e110 a night full board and which thankfully included two rooms. With a lanky 15yr old our days of the four of us squeezing into one room are long gone. Despite the solar panels outside there was no hot water in the showers and of course the TV didn't work. The lack of hot water wasn't a problem in the heat but out of curiosity I enquired why the solar panels didn't work. According to the receptionist it was a bit cloudy so they weren't working as well as they should. At that very moment I could see about two clouds scudding across the sky so I just smiled and moved on. There are some conversations in Kenya which are not worth pursuing.

The Jumia Resort is owned by the Kenyan Council of Churches so it was an alcohol and tobacco free zone. However 5 minutes walk down the beach was a German-owned bar and restaurant so all was not lost. The security man carried a bow and arrow as they are not allowed carry guns. His presence neither inspired confidence nor made me feel safe, I just wondered how many hours a day he practiced. In the three times we were there it was almost empty, and while the Spanish menu looked interesting, it was quite pricy.

During a short beach walk from our hotel we could see several hotels closed and derelict. Al Shabab has ensured the decimation of the tourist trade for the last few years. The lifting of the British travel advisory for the coast in July came too late to have made a difference this summer. The ever-present 'beach boys' constantly tried to sell us shell necklaces or offer to open coconuts, and all seemed to be supporting a small village of orphans when the marketing process wasn't going well. 

For several days after Maintain Hope left we were the only residents in the hotel and had the restaurant and swimming pool to ourselves. The chef even came around to us at the pool to ask what we would like her to cook for dinner. That night in the vast empty restaurant as the wind howled through the windows Kieran and I started to sing Hotel California at the same time. As we tried to explain we got that look which teenagers reserve for their parents.

   Siobhra and Iarlaith inspecting the coral in the Indian Ocean

Some locals came to use the pool on day trips, mostly Muslim, and some stayed for lunch. Many of the wives were completely covered and the female children wore long clothes and sometimes hijab in the pool. I have learned since my first post that polygamy is not legal in Kenya, there can be only one legal wife but it is not uncommon for a man to have two or more wives. The Kenyan Coast is very different in character to the rest of Kenya, with a much more Arabic feel. This was particularly pronounced in Mombasa. 

One morning we left Kieran in the shower as Siobhra, Iarlaith and I set out across the lawns for breakfast. We were looking at and taking photos of the antics of the monkeys around us. I spotted one scampering down towards our Banda as I suddenly remembered I had left the door open.  I ran back and sure enough it had disappeared. I looked in the door and saw it running around the room. I shouted to Iarlaith to get Kieran to come out of the shower to chase it out - if I went in blocking the door it might have gone for my throat! Next thing it ran out with a big bag of sweets we had in the room. The little thief scampered up a nearby tree and proceeded to unwrap the toffees and pop them in its mouth one by one. All the nearby monkeys came running up but it chased them away - caring is obviously not sharing in the simian world. It ended up littering the place with sweet papers we had to clean up later.

The Kenyan Council of World Churches was having its 4-day AGM starting the day we were leaving so there was lots of cleaning going on in our final days. They even came and fixed the TV the day before we checked out, and we subsequently learned it was because one of the big bosses would be staying in our room, it being one of the best in the 72-roomed hotel.  We had electricity the entire time we were there, however the water did go for about 12 hours the day before we left and the wifi never worked but we have learned to go with the Kenyan flow. A few days later when we were back in Nairobi I saw on the newspaper the AGM had carried a motion calling for the reintroduction of corporal punishment. This group of independent, Anglican and other Protestant Kenyan churches thought discipline needed to be improved in the country's schools. I'm not sure what I've missed but obviously the teachers in Siobhra and Iarlaith's schools hadn't heard it was banned. 

The night before we left we saw two armed guards patrolling the perimeter for the first time. Prior to that it had been one sleepy teenager with a truncheon. It seems the Christian bishops attending the AGM were more of a target than mzungus for Al Shebab or robbers (or both) - it was time to go! 

After Jumia, we spent one night in Mombasa city before heading back to Nairobi by bus. It was a teeming mess with lethal footpaths choked with traffic (yes footpaths were choked with traffic too) and the noise and fumes of tuk-tuks, 3-wheeled over-sized motorbikes I have only previously seen in Thailand. I have never once seen children carried in a buggy in Kenya and it is not just because being carried on the mother's back is tradition.

Mombasa is an ancient port city, founded by Arabs, which still serves Kenya, Uganda, Somalia and Sudan. The Swahili people are considered to be the original inhabitants. There is a small old town, which has the underwhelming Fort Jesus as its focal point - a remnant from its occupation by Portugal. It was here that 3 foreign tourists were killed last year, a botched robbery rather than Al Shebab as far as I can ascertain. We walked downtown to buy some Kenyan dresses and wraps and check out the famous Spice Market. We cut the safari short as we were magnets for a few shady characters who wanted to 'protect' us from the other shady characters. Kieran got some overpriced spices in the market but said they were the freshest nutmegs he had ever seen.  Mombasa has little or no tourism infrastructure and we saw very few tourists around but news stories have talked about its importance so that may change if the political situation on the coast remains stable. 

The bus journey back to Nairobi in our first class seats was largely uneventful if somewhat scary. The seats cost €60 in total - a six hour journey on a good day. There is a continuous battle between the constant stream of buses and trucks on the road and it is easy to understand how so many people get killed on the roads in Kenya, 20 people per year per 100,000 population compared to Ireland's 4. At one point our bus was overtaking a truck but wasn't going to make it before the oncoming truck reached us, however the trucks on our inside wouldn't let the driver back in so we ended up stopping dead in the middle of the road, barely missing the oncoming truck. We were at the front of the bus and I couldn't bear to watch the road, but Siobhra and Iarlaith who were alternating in the front seat beside the driver, laughed and said it was like a roller coaster! We arrived back at the Flora Hostel feeling any future trips to Mombasa would be on a plane.

    On the road out of Mombasa, trucks parked everywhere waiting to be loaded

Bro Placido took us to see some the projects he works on the following day. The Patricians manage a small home for street children in the suburbs of Nairobi. The five boys and one girl lived in a spacious comfortable house, unusually only two to a room. They also had new bikes and helmets, luxuries not seen in any of the other homes we visited. This newly built house was funded by a Canadian who had just handed it over to the Patricians and returned to Canada, changing his original intention of staying there permanently. The boys were just about to return to their families for August, each child taking a bag of food and other provisions to smooth the process.

Placido also works in a larger home for 100 boys, Kwetu Home of Peace, managed by the Little Sisters of the Assumption, a Kenyan order based in Eldoret. This was a much more institutional-type establishment, but some of ithe initiatives to make the home sustainable were very interesting. We paid a visit to a dispensary they have on the grounds, built using shipping containers and closed in by a tin-roofed frame. It seemed secure, watertight but airy. The funder was Misean Cara, a conduit for funds from Irish Aid so Placido joked with the two staff, a nurse and lab technician, saying we were Irish taxpayers who had come to inspect how our 'tax dollars' were being spent. The dispensary, only 3 months old, was providing much-needed low cost services to the local community as well as the home, serving about 20 people per day. They hope to break even in a year. 

There is a small farm, with several dairy cows, using a zero-grazing approach, the inevitable chickens and a few rabbit hutches. No, not a few cuddly pets for the boys but an experiment in providing the occasional meat dish. It wasn't going very well as I think the local dogs were a bit partial to the rabbits. This was their second batch of cows as the first ones had been stolen.

  One remaining rabbit on the farm

A field of maize provides ugali and the stalks are chopped up and fed to the cows. They had a new venture - a big greenhouse growing tomatoes, with a second crop almost ready. The first crop had been used as food for the home with the excess being sold. They are hoping to build a second greenhouse so they can alternate the crops. Imagine my surprise when I discovered the funder of the greenhouse is Porticus, the same organisation which funds my day job at the St Stephen's Green Trust.

    Homemade swingball using a coke bottle filled with sand and a string which the boys kicked

The boys at Kwetu were also getting ready to go home for August. Reconnection with families and their own environment is an important part of the support as the boys are only given support and education to the end of secondary school. After that they fend for themselves. Boys are in the home for various reasons, mostly poverty or addiction related. Part of Placido's role in the home is to offer counselling to the boys. Sr Clementina showed us round the activities hall and dining room. A weekly menu on the wall was of the usual Kenyan variety - uji, ugali, sukuma wiki (spinach), getheri (beans and corn). The bunny rabbits hadn't made it onto the menu yet. One of their biggest issues is to have enough food to feed the boys. Neither the Nairobi Diocese, which owns the home, nor the government give much in the way of support.

The road out to the suburb of Ruai was quite good, an 8 lane dual carriageway without any speedbumps and hardly a pothole in sight. However after 6 weeks in the country it didn't really surprise me that there was a pedestrian crossing on it, the cars had to go from 100km to standstill for the sauntering Kenyans. Another time we were driving on the city 6 lane highway which has a concrete median between the two sides when suddenly we could hear beeping and sirens. A police vehicle was driving towards us at speed on the outside lane obviously going somewhere very important. But it was ok because there was a uniformed man hanging out the door behind the driver gesturing to cars to move over onto the middle lane. 

In Ruai a universal if dangerous sport - Kieran said he used to do this growing up in Pairc Muire, jumping onto the back of moving trucks. 

The next day we paid a visit to our Maintain Hope friends in Ngong, about 15km from Nairobi. It was great to see everyone again and we were welcomed with open arms. The apples and sweets we brought went down well - only the second time they had tasted apples as they are relatively expensive in Kenya. The living quarters for the children are very cramped, 3 bedrooms, the 26 boys and girls share two bedrooms and a bedroom for the house mother which also acts as a storeroom. There are two double bunks in the bedrooms, with two or more to each bed. Maintain Hope's next big project is to buy land and build a bigger house. 

We visited a small social enterprise unit they have in a nearby town. The older boys work with a candle making machine, producing thousands of candles they sell into a supermarket chain. The girls do embroidery work on shawls which they buy in. 

    The candle making machine providing small funds for the home.

Providing education and healthcare is a big focus of Maintain Hope's fundraising efforts in Ireland, and hugely appreciated by the children. When I chatted with 15yr old Anita, she told me how devastated she was a few years ago when she finished primary school and they didn't have the fees for her to attend secondary school. She sat at home for 3 months with 2 other children in the same position. You could still sense her excitement as she told me how Jane came home one day to say she now had the money. 

   Jane showing us the candle making enterprise

Jane also explained how having health insurance has made a big difference in their lives. She said for a few years prior to having it, they lost two or three children each year. Some of the children are HIV positive and good healthcare and food is key to keeping them alive.

   The children go to a range of schools

The children were all reminiscing about the previous week's holiday - 'a bed to ourselves, a shower whenever you wanted it, the special food, the swimming pool'. Anita said she wanted to become an entrepreneur and with her first pay packet she was coming back to the home to bring them all on holiday. (By the way, Maintain Hope's website is www.maintainhope.com or you'll find them on Facebook).

For our last day in Nairobi, we gave in and acceded to Iarlaith's request to go to the Westgate Shopping Centre, just newly reopened after the massacre of 67 people in 2013 by Al Shebab. He was interested to visit it and maybe get that 'whitewater' vibe. The security entering the underground car park was unprecedented for us. The latest in newfangled security gadgetry was stuck into the car, under the car, boot opened. Inside there were a myriad of Western shops like Converse, Clarks, Gucci and others, with Western prices. Many shops and restaurants were not yet opened and the Centre was virtually empty. Unusually, we spotted a number of mzungu security men wandering around, assisted by G4S, the global security firm that supports the Israeli state in its dirty work. I found out later the Centre is owned by Israelis and they brought over a specialist firm to put in the security systems. Al Shebab hasn't gone away, you know. Luckily for me and my boycott of Israeli goods we didn't buy anything (I cast my net wide). We returned later that evening to the upmarket Westlands area to have a fabulous Indian meal in the recommended Haandi restaurant. 

   The equator is about an hour south of Eldoret - no effort is made to capitalise on its tourism potential

We returned to Iten the next morning, a six hour journey which included spotting baboons along the side of the road. The main road to Uganda, it is a good road and frequent climbing lanes allowed us to get around some of the trucks all of which spewed out thick black smoke just as we reached them. It was great to get back to the fresh air and bright sunshine of Iten.

   The half-way house: stopping in the Midlands Hotel in Nakuru for a fruit punch is a tradition passed on to us by the Patricians. 

Thanks to Kieran for some of the photos - you can spot his easily.

Back to school (ish) in the next blog.