Jam Doughnut

4th January, 2009

My final day in Kenya. I didn't wake up at 6:30am and didn't unlock the clinic. Instead I lay in bed until 7:30am then got up and had a long shower. I then changed into some swimmers and went down to the pool and had a swim for 30 mins. Drying off I moved across to the breakfast area opposite the pool and had a lovely breakfast. Fruit, toast and jam. I avoided the hot food as I was going out to lunch with Mike and Evelyn at the Mathago club so wanted to save room for that.

Back up in my room I fired up the computer and saw that Mum was online. I took advantage of having an internet connection and fired up iChat for a video conference with her. During the call I showed her a few photos of my trip. It was good to see her and Doug again. After the call, I saw that Hank was online so also had a chat with him and Tehani. Again, it was good to have the connection to someone back home.

Last night when I had got into the hotel, I had fired off a quick email to Brendan. I had thought of him from time to time during my stay and thought, not only would he get a lot out of this, but he could contribute a bit too. I have already decided to return to Kenya in August to undertake some larger projects. This time though I would like a bit of company to help achieve more. Brendan was one of my first picks. I had written a brief summary of what I had done, what I planned to do and asked if he would be interested in joining me. I included a photo of one of the orphans at the end of my appeal for his assistance. When I checked my email in the morning I was pleased to have a reply from him. It started, "You had me at hello!". I was so happy that he was willing to help. I now needed just a few other people to help undertake the new projects. As an added bonus, Brendan had grown up on a farm so was reasonably handy in a rural environment. Plus he and I had done some basic carpentry projects when we were living in Japan building furniture for our beach house.

The children have only a single set of swings between 50 of them. One project I wanted to attempt on my return was to build them some more playground equipment. Not that I've done anything like this before but I'm sure it couldn't be too hard and I had about 8 months to do some research. The other more important project was to help make the home a bit more sustainable. To do this, I wanted to build a cow pen and chicken coop. This would not only provide the kids with free milk and eggs, if there were any excess it could be sold and used to offset other expenses like rice and meat.

As I was waiting for Mike and Evelyn to arrive I sat at the computer catching up on world events. I had the overwhelming desire to burb and when I did there was a familiar sulphur taste. Giardia Lamblia. Perfect. This is a waterborne virus that can be got from either unclean water or fruits and vegetables washed in unclean water. I had caught this before in India so knew what the effects were. It manifests different ways in different people. For many people it is accompanied by diarrhoea and malaise. The third most common manifestation is excessive gas (burping and farting). That is the one that I've tend to get in the past. For me it is more of a burping thing. The gas build up gets to bad that unless you burp every 15 - 20 mins you will find yourself in extreme discomfort. It normally takes about 8- 10 hours from the first signs until it's at it's peak. It can take 24 - 72 hours for the effects to subside. This is exactly what I needed for a long flight!

About 20 minutes later it was time for Mike and Evelyn to arrive. I went downstairs to wait for them and sure enough they arrived 5 minutes later. As the car pulled up I was surprised to see two other passengers in the back. I had been expecting Milicent, Evelyns sister, to come along but in the car was her daughter Tracy. Tracy was supposed to fly back to Monte Carlo on Friday night where she is studying. As i got in the car, I inquired why she was still here. On Friday night she was called by the airline prior to her leaving home and told that the flight had been cancelled and she would have to take the Saturday night flight. On Saturday night she went out to the airport, queued to get in, checked in and waited only to have the flight cancelled again. They were going to put her on the Monday morning flight now. She had spent a considerable time at the airport and generally being stuffed around but none of this had changed her radiant outlook on life. I guess being Kenyan, she is used to this sort of thing.

We arrived at the Mathago club to typical colonial style service. Immaculately dressed African men served us drinks, gave us menus and showed us to our table. On Mike's recommendation I went for the curry buffet. It was surprisingly good consisting of separate beef, chicken and prawn curries with the standard range of Indian condiments. This I washed down with a gin and tonic in an effort to stave off any further infections. A longish lunch turned into tea and cakes in the afternoon on the garden. Whilst the ladies enjoyed their tea, Tracy and I sipped a nice cool glass of wine. It really was quite a decadent afternoon. Along with the traditional Devonshire tea accompaniments of scones with clotted cream and jam, where cucumber and watercress sandwiches and strangely enough jam doughnuts. These round glazed treats stuffed full of bright red jam were being eaten by many people around us. Most of them were children but it seemed almost every plate had one. Evelyn and Milicent

At around 5:00pm we left the club and I was dropped back at the hotel. We all bade our farewells and I promised to return around August for a repeat performance. I went back to my room, caught up with a bit more online news, and packed my bags ready for this evenings departure. At around 6:30pm I decided that a power nap was in order so set the fog horn alarm for 7:30pm and promptly fell asleep.

At 7:30pm I leapt 10cm from the bed as is the customary response from being roused by a fog horn. Feeling a bit fresher I started to do some writing. Unfortunately, the giardia had not finished with me and I spent the next two hours burping more and more as the effects of the giardia took hold. At about 9:15pm I went downstairs to reception to check out. It was a very prompt and efficient service and scarcely 5 mins later I was ready to leave the hotel. I was big goodbye by name from several of the staff that had come to know me over the last 24 hours. It was a genuine farewell and one of the guys on reception gave me his email address and told me to let them know when I was coming back. Obviously the manager had told them what I had been doing for the last week because they thanked me for coming out here both from themselves and on behalf of the children of Kenya. I was so touched.

Several staff walked me to the door, loaded my things in the car and within moments I was in leaving the Serena, the orphans and Kenya. This was goodbye for now but I was already planning my next trip back.

This was a good day.

Joyful Singing

3rd January, 2009

Last night I was sound asleep, visions of sugar plums dancing in my head, when there was a bash on the window. It was the watchman. "Jordan open door". We had discussed that this might happen. As I lock the door from the inside of the clinic effectively sealing myself in, it means that if someone comes to the clinic in the middle of the night, I have to open it up for them.

It's ironic that the last night that I'm sleeping there is the first time it happens. I open the door still quite asleep. There is a mother with a sick baby that has walked to the clinic from who knows where. She doesn't seem to have a torch and the baby is completely covered with a blanket. I let them all in and go to my room. Leaving the light on I pick up the magazine to read it again. There's no point going to sleep as I will just have to wake up again to let them out and lock the doors again. After about 15 minutes and several outbursts from the baby, they leave. I quickly fall back to sleep.

I get up again at 6:30am scarcely a few hours after I was last up and unlock the clinic. I then get up a second time at 7:30am and begin packing my bags. Within about 15 mins of activity in the room Mercy is at my window. She chats to me as I pack, then comes around into my room. I had planned to leave quite a few things behind but she was particularly interested in the contents of my bath bag. Over the years with all the travelling I do I have collected small bottles of shampoo, conditioner, moisturiser, sewing kits, toothpaste and bath gel from the various hotels I stay in or airlines I travel with. I use them on my trips to avoid having to take larger bottles. Having been deprived of showers for the last two weeks they are all unused. Mercy really wants them so I give them all to her knowing that the sort of person she is she will share them with others. She is also particularly interested in my socks. I tell her that they will be too big for her but she only has one pair of socks. I give her all the clean socks I have left. She puts it all in a small plastic bag and is off with it.

After packing I head out to play with the kids. It's almost like normal. The exception is Manyara. He is a bit distant while we are playing. Every now and then I catch him looking a little sad and when I speak to him he looks up at me with sad eyes but then smiles. I take a few more photos of the kids. It's funny that very often kids simulate adult life when they are playing. Whether it be soldier, doctors, rock bands or even construction workers. In this case, the kids were playing farmers. They had outlined a farm house with rocks on the grass including the internal walls and animal stalls. One of the boys was a cow and one of the smaller boys was milking him. This involved a small bucket under his stomach while he pulled on his t-shirt simulating the udders. It was weird to watch but then completely understandable.

One of the house mothers called the kids and they all got up and started running back in the home. Lunch time. I wondered what my last meal at the home was going to be like. I needn't wonder too long as one of the house mothers Phyllis came out with my meal in plate with another plate on top acting as a warmer. They knew it was my last meal so I was presented with something special. A big plate of beans and an extra large serving of ugali. Excellent. Just what I was looking forward to!

After lunch Moses came over with two crates of soft drinks and a some bags of cakes. The church had planned on giving this to the kids on New Years Day but as I had taken them away for a treat they deferred it until today. All the kids were made to line up in order of height, the youngest Ciro being at the front followed by Manyara. I notice that although Mercy is not the tallest or the oldest, she joins the end of the queue. They each take their soft drink and cake and sit on the ground near the doors to the homes to busily eat them. Everyone is happy.

I then go back with Moses to his office for a final debrief and discussion. In the past when I had pressed him about the stories for the kids he had been quite reluctant to share them saying they were all the same. However, now he shared a few more details on a couple of the kids. Manyara's parents died of AIDS and he was sent to live with his aunt. His aunt was a drunkard who wrote herself off on a local moonshine. Manyara was seized by the other relatives when it was discovered that he was being left in bars by the aunt. He would eat the scraps of food and generally be abused by the drunks. John's parents also died of AIDS and he was moved from one relative to another until being left with the disabled sister of his grandmother. When John came to the home he was so badly malnourished that he had to be taken to hospital for a while to recover before joining the home. I asked about Mercy and in particular her mother, who was the mental case. I asked if she knew she was here. Early on, she had come several times to try and take Mercy away. Moses told her that he didn't know who she was and only the aunt who admitted her could take her out. Mercy's mother acted deranged and in the end Moses had to threaten her with violence if she ever showed up again. Of course, he confided in me, that he never would resort to that but it seemed to be the only way to make this woman go away. She never came back again.

The final story he shared with me was from April last year. I had heard that the school had got broken into and the watchman had been tied up. Apparently the two watchmen from the church and the home went to the assistance of the school watchman. They were set on by about six youths and soundly beaten. Then they marched the home watchman back to the home and tried to force him to get the house mothers to open up the home. He refused and told the house mothers to raise the alarm. He was beaten to within an inch of his life. The house mothers called Moses and he and a neighbour (who fortunately owned a car) came speeding to the home. He told me he wasn't quite sure what they would do as they had no weapons and knew they were outnumbered. However, when the thieves saw the car they fled. When Moses turned up he found the church and home watchman lying on the ground, skulls cracked and bleeding to death. They quickly bundled them in the car and took them to the hospital which saved their lives. I asked him what sort of police presence was here but he just laughed. If the police had have been called, they would have taken hours to turn up if they turned up at all. It was quite a horrifying incident. Fortunately since then nothing has happened. I'm glad I found this out as I was leaving rather than arriving at the home but either way it still would not have deterred me from my visit although I would have been more vigilant about security at night. In saying that, I was sealed into my little prison anyway so I would have been quite safe. However, I didn't have any emergency numbers to call.

After those stories, Moses called in the house mothers. As well as saying goodbye to them I had given Moses 1,000 shillings each for them to say thank you for the care they had given me and the children. Moses called the six house mothers in plus the cleaner. Even though it was only 2:30pm the three house mothers on the night shift had come to the home to say goodbye. In a combination Kikuyu/Swahili/English he thanked them for me and thanked me for my time there. He then said I had given each of them a gift and handed out the 1,000 shilling notes. They were overjoyed and well whooping and yelling thanking me. It was hard to believe that such a small gesture would warrant such praise. One of them suggested they say a prayer for me which I accepted even though it is only for their benefit. As with all prayers that I've heard over the last two weeks they have been in Kikuyu and incredibly long. At the end of the prayer the house mothers burst into song and were dancing and singing around the room. Moses joined in with them and I, not being familiar with the Top 40 Kikuyu hits, clapped along. During the song some of the house mothers started crying as they thanked me which made me well up. Fortunately before I completely came apart the song ended. They thanked and hugged me again and they left.

My car still had not turned up so I wandered around the home speaking to various kids an trying to keep clean as they tried to swing off my arms. I went into the kitchen where three of the house mothers were making chapati. I was amazed at how quickly they were making them. The dough had been made from scratch and on the floor were two little kilns with red hot coals in them. On top of each kiln was a round heavy metal plate. They expertly cut off a piece of dough, stretched it out to a long thing cord, then quickly laid it on the table in a closely formed spiral. This spiral was then pushed flat and thrown onto the plate with a bit of oil. Everything was done by hand including the turning of the chapati. They had to make more than 100 of them as each child got two chapati.

I left the kitchen to see the old beat up car bouncing across the oval towards the home. My transport had arrived. The car pulled up to a dusty stop with children streaming around the vehicle. I fetched my bags from the room and Peter, my driver, loaded them into the car.

The house mothers came back at and led by Yoda/Grace, the children started singing and dancing. It was so wonderful to see them all so happy. I looked around at all the smiling faces. As usual Mercy was towards the back: singing and dancing but not smiling. I wanted to give her the biggest hug but I couldn't as it would have meant hugging all 50 of them and I didn't have the emotional strength for that. I looked around for Manyara and little Peter and I couldn't see either of them. I asked the house mothers where they were and we all went back in the home to look for them. Peter, Manyara and one other little boy, another John, were sitting by themselves watching TV. It was as if they were in denial. The house mothers called them and they came out. The sheepishly stood around me as I said goodbye then as quickly as they arrived, they left. I guess they are not good with goodbyes.

I went back out to the car and Moses and Steven (the treasurer of the church) were climbing into the back of the car. We were going to drop them off at Wangige on the way. Before I got in myself I took off the watch that I had bought for this trip and gave it to Moses asking him to give it to the home watchman who himself had watched over me for the past two weeks. Then with the children still singing and dancing we drove off across the oval and down the dusty weather beaten road. Moses and Steven tried to engage me in conversation which was difficult to do with the tears in my eyes as I could still hear the singing out the car window.

We slowly bounced down the dirt road and when we got to the tarmac turned left towards Wangige. A few minutes later we were at Wangige depositing Moses and Steven. We said another round of goodbyes and the car turned around to head off to Nairobi. Shortly after we passed the road back to Cura, the driver offered to take me a different way to see another part of the country. We turned left and head through Kabete to Nairobi. There is a large university on the way with beautiful Bougainvillaea trees. There were also some very rich houses and Peter informed me that this was one of the more affluent parts of Kenya.

Around 40 minutes later we turned up at the hotel. The Serena is the only five start hotel in Nairobi and Peter's beaten up, rusty car covered in dirt didn't quite fit in with the opulent surrounds of the establishment. As the car pulled up a doorman raced over to open the door for me. Peter opened the boot and removed my bags. Obviously the boot is not airtight as the bags were covered in red dust. The doorman said that they would clean the bags before bringing them into the hotel. I guess with all the tourists that come over for safaris they are used to this.

I bid goodbye to Peter and went to check in at the hotel. I had previously made the booking directly with the hotel manager and I was pleased to see that all the arrangements had been made. When I went up to my room, I was even more pleased to see that I had been upgraded to a suite. The room was enormous with a separate shower and bath, plus a living room and small study area off to one end. This was more like it!

The first thing I did was have a long hot shower. The water pressure was very strong. After that I put on some fresh clothes and went downstairs to the salon for a manicure. Two weeks of living in the bush had taken it's toll on my nails and despite me trying to clean them with a sharpened stick they were still caked with red dirt. It took the girl more than 40 minutes to make them look somewhat more civilised again.

I went back up to my room, rang the concierge and asked them to recommend a nice restaurant for me for the evening. They recommended a restaurant called Carnivore. Sounded like just what I needed after my virtually meat free diet over the last two weeks (with the exception of the slaughtering of the two sheep).

I went downstairs and took a cab to the restaurant. The cab driver gave me his number and said to call him when I was ready to leave. I was shown to a table for one in a very large and very busy restaurant. Throughout the restaurant were waiters moving around swiftly with huge skewers of meat. Once I had sat down they brought over a metal plate that was burning hot and put that on my table. Also came along a small two storey carousel with sauces on top and some very rudimentary salads underneath. One thing missing was kachambari, the salad that I had tried when we slaughtered the sheep. I asked the waiter if it was possible to get some and although he seemed surprised that I knew what it was, said he would try. Around 10 minutes later he returned with a salad that didn't quite resemble kachambari as it was missing coriander. I asked where the coriander was and he replied that they didn't really have any kachambari so the cooks just made this up fresh.

Over the next 90 minutes waiters came past my table with skewers of beef, sausages, lamb chops, pork ribs, crocodile and chicken legs. They also had some other skewers with whole joints of beef, pork, lamb and surprisingly a whole turkey on a skewer. Finally there were some small meatballs of ostrich meat. There is no wonder the restaurant is called Carnivore. After eating about a two months supply of meat I called the driver and he whisked me back to the hotel.

I climbed into my massive bed and rubbed my tummy as I went to sleep.

This was a good day.

Jobs

2nd January, 2009

I woke up to my last full day here with the orphans of Cura. Unlike yesterday I couldn't hear anyone up when I got up, not that it would have stopped me from going back to bed anyway. I got up again the second time around 7:30am as I could hear shouting and singing.

I got dressed and peaked out the door of the clinic. Unlike other kids their age, these kids all have jobs. Well, they are not jobs in the traditional sense that pay you and provide health care. Many of the kids were out working in the vegetable patch near the home. I wandered into the home and saw other kids sweeping, mopping, washing and generally tidying up. I don't know any other parents who can claim this. Every single kid seemed to have their own job no matter how big or small and they all seemed happy to do it. Peter, the second smallest after Manyara was busy washing some clothes in a bucket, he looked up at me and gave me a big smile. This kid has such an expressive face. He could certainly be an actor.

I went back to my room and grabbed my camera then ventured out into the field. Each kid had a big stick and was bashing the shit out of the ground with it. It was like they had seen a snake. However, upon closer inspection there was much more to this. A heshen sack had been laid on the ground. On top of it was placed piles of dead straw like substance. The kids were bashing this straw with anything they could find. The straw turned out to be dried bean vines. Hidden amongst the vines were pods of beans. They were bashing them to break open the pods and free the hard red and white beans. Around the outside of the melee were the smaller kids picking through the dirt and grabbing the stray beans that had flown out of casings. They chucked these into a winnowing fan (large cane flat basket). Periodically one of the kids tossed the beans up into the air and caught them back in the winnowing fan. The wind blows away the dust and crap. Every now and then the bashing (technically threshing) would cease and one of the larger kids would turn the dried bean stalks over to bring the others to the top, then the bashing would continue. Eventually, they stopped the threshing and all got on their hands and knees to find the beans.

I went back to my room to drop off my camera and then popped into the office to see if Moses was there. He had just arrived as he had errands to do. Yesterday I had planned to catch up with the headmaster of the school but he didn't come in. (After all it was New Years Day and I was away most of the day anyway) He was in now, so Moses took me over and introduced me. He was in his office with his deputy.

I haven't been into a headmasters office for around 20 years and the last time I was there I was in trouble. I still felt a little nervous going in. Moses didn't make things any easier by only introducing me to them by their last names which I immediately forgot.

I told them that I wanted to meet them to prepare a proposal on their behalf to secure some funding for books for the school. A UK organisation had pledged £640 to buy books for a school outside of Nairobi. Mike Eldon had made the contact and suggested Cura. He asked me to speak to them and create a proposal. We had a long and interesting discussion about education in this part of the world. Coincidentally, that day they had the results for the students who were finishing primary school (Grade 8 in Kenya) and would go on to do high school. Whilst we were talking two students came in to collect their results. I looked through all the results. Out of a possible 500 marks, the school average was just 216. They had done some analysis and the lowest scores were in English and Kiswahili (the name for the language known as Swahili) They didn't know I was coming or about my proposal but they had just been discussing how to increase these results and their conclusion was that they needed more (actually some) reading material. The kids have a text book provided by the government and they have one dictionary between 6 students. However, apart of the text book there is nothing else. Their library has around 20 books in it.

We discussed that one of the ways to get kids to study English more was to get them to read stories and they would be learning without actually realising it. The money that has been pledged would be enough to buy around 20 dictionaries (bringing the ratio to one for every 4 students) but more importantly could buy around 330 English reading books and 110 Kiswahili reading books. A great start to a library. We spoke a lot more about education and the future of Kenya. They thanked me for taking an interest in both the orphans and the school. We then went over to the building where they had intended to build a library and showed me around that. It was the same as every other class room. Corrugated iron roof, thick wire mesh on the occasionally broken windows and a layer of red dust over everything. They pledged to make this room a lot more like a library should they get the books.

I went back to the orphanage as it was now after 1pm. When I got there one of the house mothers saw me and brought out my lunch. I was not surprised to see it was red beans and ugali. The beans were the ones harvested this morning. After lunch Manyara came over and we went outside to play. I saw a few kids up by the church so I went up there myself. Mercy was there with Edward, Alex, Agnes and Margaret. We mucked around for a bit which usually involved me tickling them or them asking me to "strong" them. For some reason, these kids are all little masochists. They are constantly hurting each other. They worked out that I was much stronger then them so their game involved me crushing their hand in mine. It takes a bit of caution on my part as they won't pull their hand away until they feel pain but I have to be careful not to go to far. As soon as they hurt they wince and then immediately put their hand back. The other game was when they give me a switch (slender stick from a tree) and ask me to try and hit them with it whilst they try to grab it. Again, I have to be a bit careful and always aim for the lower legs and never with any strength behind it. They occasionally get the switch, break it, laugh and then go and get me another one to start again. As I said, little masochists.

After a while, I became bored with this game. They could have gone on for hours. I went back towards the clinic. Mercy had disappeared as she usually doesn't partake in the rough games. She turned up with a big bunch of flowers for me that she had picked from the various gardens around the place. She is so sweet. When she gave them to me she said, "Please don't go tomorrow." Bless. I tried to explain that I had no choice but it was lost on her. Meanwhile I was being attacked by the other kids who keep getting rougher and rougher. Every now and then one them ends up hurting themselves, starts crying and we have to stop and comfort them. About 30 seconds later we are back into it.

I decided to go into the home and see what everyone else was doing. Some were still cleaning but most of them were in the television room. I popped in and they were watching Kyle XY, a US drama aimed at teens about a boy who has special abilities but doesn't know his own background. I watched it for a little while with them although it was difficult with 20 kids fighting, yelling and doing everything but watch the TV. Only about 6 kids were actually watching this and it was amazing that they were able to block out all of the other distractions and concentrate on the TV alone.

I was unable to concentrate on any one thing with all that fuss going on so went back to my room. A few minutes later Mercy was at my window. We talked for a bit and I gave her two lollies that i had left over from yesterday. She put them in her pockets and continued on chatting. About ten minutes later, Manyara came into my room. After he whisked around the room touching everything, he settled on the seat next to me and started chatting away mainly in Kikuyu with the occasional English word thrown in for good measure. Without anyone mentioning lollies, Mercy reached into her pocket and took out a lolly and gave it to Manyara. The little shit didn't even say thank you in one of the three languages he speaks. I made him say thank you in two of the languages as at least those were the ones I knew thank-you in. She then helped him open it and it quickly went into his mouth along with all the other things that had gone in it that day including stones, grass, sticks and anything else he found on the ground.

The kids were getting bored in my room so it was time to head outside. After another hour or so of playing outside the clinic then a quick walk around the courtyard to the constant cries of "Uncle, look at me" as each of the kids tried to get my attention, I went back to my room.

This was to be my last supper and I was hoping for something a little special. I was disappointed when a big plate of ugali and red beans showed up. I ate all the beans and most of the ugali. It's pretty hard to eat everything they give me as there is just so much. Fortunately, one of the house mothers usually comes over after I eat to drop off a thermos full of tea and any leftovers are taken back and the kids wolf them down.

I head to bed reasonably early for me at about 10pm and read the magazine that I bought in Nairobi the other day. It is a quarterly publication by the Economist called Intelligent Life. On the front cover was a black and white photo of Paris Hilton reading War and Peace. It amused me but the real reason I bought it was an article on the first 25 years of the Macintosh computer.

At about 11pm I finally went to sleep.

This was a good day.

January

1st January, 2009

Up at 6:30am to open the Clinic. This is the earliest I think I have ever got up on New Years Day. There have been several where I've still been up at 6:30am but not to have gone to sleep and woke up at this ridiculous hour. I can hear that the kids are up already. I go back to bed and try to ignore them.

This is a futile exercise. They are singing, laughing, fighting and practising how to say "Happy New Year" in English. I manage to block them out for a full hour but then I give up and get up. After the normal activities of cleaning my teeth, rinsing with boiled water, and shaving by touch (there is no mirror here), I put on my only clean shirt. Unfortunately it is also the one that is the most crushed. I'm hoping that within an hour with the heat the wrinkles should drop out.

I head outside to chat to Moses to make sure everything is arranged. The kids are beside themselves with excitement. They are all washed but are wearing the filthiest clothes. Manyara's shirt has a single button done up at the top. The rest are just button holes which are only out of place because of the neat stitching around them as opposed to all the other holes in his shirt. I have decided that even though it is a public holiday I want them to wear school uniforms. It will make it much easier to spot them in a crowd. I send them off to get their uniforms on. This is not happening at a lightning pace so I grab my camera and take some profile photos of the first person to be ready. An 11 year old girl called Joyce. The others immediately want their photos taken but I say only once they have their uniforms on. This creates a stampede as they all struggle to find their uniforms. They are running around with bits of uniform in their hands as the house mothers (I'm sure eternally grateful for the panic I've caused) try to find different shoes, socks, jumpers, vests and shoelaces. One by one they come out and have their photo taken. Manyara comes out and he looks like a proper little school boy. He has a light blue shirt (with buttons), a dark blue jumper, grey shorts, socks and shoes. I take his photo and it's only as he is walking away that I see that the back is completely torn out of his jumper and there is also the back half of the sleeve missing with this bare elbow poking through. I guess that is the problem with being the smallest. You are forever going to get hand-me-downs.

After several photos with the kids, some photos with the house mothers and a few other random shots we move towards the oval. The bus is due about 10:00 but doesn't turn up until 10:30. The kids go crazy and are running around the bus as it is driving across the oval. A couple of house mothers yell at them but it falls on deaf ears.

Whilst I go over and talk to the bus driver accompanied by Moses, i notice the kids have all gone silent. I look back and they are all praying being led by the house mothers. I wander over and one of the house mothers (Yoda/Grace) tells me that they are praying for the journey. Looking at the bus I'm not filled with confidence in it's road worthiness either but I'm not sure it requires a conversation with your imaginary friend and if so, there's fuck all he can do about the situation. When that book of fairy-tales was written there was no such thing as a car, so even if Jesus was a real person and it was possible to speak to him 2,000 years after his death, he's likely to know fuck all about the mechanics of a 20 year old bus. Allegedly he was a carpenter so if we were building a table he might come in handy but I think that would be limit of use for this subject matter expert.

After the praying comes some singing in Kikuyu. Then I tell them it's about time to get on the bus. I make them line up and count them on the bus. 45 orphans + 11 adults made up of 6 house mothers, 4 elderly kids of house mothers along to help out, and me. We lumber off down the dirt road. When we get to the little shop we pull over to get the soft drinks for the kids. As I only had 48, I order another 10 more. The house mothers ask me to get some bread as well. They want 25 loaves! The shop only has 13 (my lucky number!) I also see a bag of lollies there and ask them how much for the bag. They are amazed as nobody has ever bought a bag before. They just buy them one at a time. They eventually settle on a price of 70 shillings (€0.70) and both of us are happy.

We continue down the road with the kids singing merrily. About 15 minutes later we pass another hole in the wall shop so the driver pulls in. I buy another 12 loaves and when the lady sees the bus full of kids she asks about them. I explain that they are orphans so she throws in another loaf for free (again lucky 13!!!). Then we rumble off down the road; the kids high pitched singing occasionally interrupted by the grinding of gears by the driver. After about 45 mins of driving we have arrived.

We all pile off the bus and head towards something with reception written on it. There are two armed guards there in military style uniforms. I ask them where to go and they point me towards the animal orphanage. We make our way over there and again the kids line up as I count them through the turnstile. It costs 2,250 shillings for the 45 kids, 1,000 shillings for the 10 Kenyan adults, and 1,600 shillings for me a non-Kenyan tourist. Still, for under €50 I have got the 56 of us into the grounds. The kids are so excited to see the animals. There are cheetahs, lions, ostriches, crocodiles and a host of other animals. There is a baby giraffe in a pen near the fence which I think is amazing. The kids don't seem to share my enthusiasm and are more interested in trying to get some parrot to speak Kikuyu. As we walk around I've constantly got three or four kids holding my hands. We seem to get a lot of looks from both Kenyans and foreigners alike.

After we've traversed the animal orphanage we re-group to exit. A house mother asks if she should call up the bus driver but there's no way I'm leaving just yet. On the other side of the national park there is a Safari Walk so we make our over there. There is a small queue so make the kids wait further away as I line up. When I get to the front they have employed much the same pricing scheme as before. I was rather hoping that because I was paying for 55 Kenyan nationals to get in, they might give me free entry as opposed to paying 32 times more than the kids and 16 times more than the adults.

We slowly wander through the safari passing hippos, rhino's and countless monkeys. On the way to a large lion enclosure I spot a drinking fountain and being parched grab a drink. Then I stroll up to the lion enclosure to see a large male lion standing up close to the fence showing off it's impressive size. I turn to say something to kids and I'm alone at the fence. My first thought is that they were scared off by the lion but as I turn around I can see all 45 of my kids crowded around the drinking fountain. I don't think they have seen one before. Bless. They are trying to work out how to use it while the larger kids are holding up the smaller ones so that they can get a drink. This has been the highlight of their day so far! We eventually move on to see other animals but every 100-200m there is another drinking fountain and again, I lose all the kids. We eventually get to the end of the safari walk, 9 drinking fountains later, and the kids are amazed by a pair of crocodiles very close to the fence. There is a sign saying that they are Nile Crocodiles which are the largest reptiles in the world growing up to 6m. Horseshit! The Australian salty is much bigger than that. I pull out my iPhone and jumping on to Wikipedia confirm that the Australian Saltwater Crocodile is the largest and grows up to 9.1m long (50% larger than those pissy little Nile Crocodiles). I look around for a ranger or other park attendant to point out the error but none are to be found. Typical.

We leave the Safari Walk and head back to the bus. The kids have already climbed on board but I make them get off so that we can eat and drink. The bus is conveniently parked next to a shelter with seats and sinks so we camp there. Each kid receives a soft drink, 4 slices of plain bread, a banana and a handful of popcorn. (Jamie Oliver would be up in arms about this school dinner!!!) Then again, this is a special treat for them and they normally would have ugali and sukuma wiki. After lunch we pile back on the bus and begin the journey home. I'm pretty exhausted by now and nod off for a power-nap on the way home.

When we finally get home, the bus pulls up and the kids stream off the bus. Being kids of course, they have left jumpers all sorts of other things behind so we collect them, redistribute them to their rightful owners. I pay the bus driver and take a check on the day:

Beat up old bus: 12,000 shillings
Entry to safari park: 10,000 shillings
Food & drink: 2,500 shillings
Seeing the excitement on the faces of 45 orphans as they discover their first water fountain: priceless  

The kids all get changed and come back out in their beat up clothes. I play with them for a while and teach them how to do wheelbarrow races. They roar with laughter as they take it in turns to push each other down the grassy strip between the clinic and the home. I think Manyara is a bit tired as this normally indestructible little boy is hurt and bursts into tears. I'm sitting on the grass watching them so I grab him and cradle him in my arms. He hugs me so tight as he continues to sob and then slowly the sobbing subsides. I look down at him and he is so small in my arms. Little tears run down his dirty black face and onto my shirt. Even though the crying stops, he snuggles into me for another 10 mins. I don't think any of these children get hugged like this very often.

We play a bit more and then dinner is ready so I take the kids inside and head back to my room. A few minutes after I've settled down and have the computer out reviewing the photos, Mercy comes into my room. She holds in her hand a folded bit of paper and gives it to me saying, "I wrote you a letter". Bear in mind that Mercy is the little 9 year old girl who until about two years ago didn't go to school because her deranged mother kept pulling her out, burning her school uniform and beating her. I'll quote the letter verbatim below.

"One day we go to the trip. we was go with Uncle Jordan. when we go we see mani mani things like snak and totoise and lion and ostirich and hainh and hipo and reopard. Uncle we love you and Uncle when you go where you live remember me. Amen"

That's the second time this little girl has broken my heart.

Phyllis, one of the house mothers, arrives soon after with my meal which brings me back to a sobering reality. Ugali and red beans for dinner tonight. After my meal, I wander outside and up the hill and make a call to Amex. I'm spending one night in Nairobi and I want them to find the best restaurant in town for me. No ugali or sukuma wiki though!!!!

As I come back to the Clinic in the dark, I can see a bright little light towards the bottom of the wall of the clinic. I can't work out what it is, so bend down to investigate it. To my surprise it is a glow worm with the brightest of tails. I think this is my reward for doing a good deed today. This little worm shines a light inside of me and I head into my room, happy.

This was a good day.

Jailbreak

31st December, 2008

This is the last day of the year and I know there should be reflective thoughts on the year that was and the planning of future resolutions that will not last the week, however, all I can think of is that lovely squat toilet scarcely 10m from my door. So near, yet so far. It's 6:30am and I've "opened" up the clinic. By opened, I mean unbolting the door from the inside. Of course, it is still firmly shut from the night before when some idiot jailed me in from the outside. There is a hole in the glass in the window. I work out the logistics of a partial jailbreak: standing on a chair, and directing a steady stream of urine across the 10m gap to the wall of the toilets. Near enough is good enough. However, given the mishap I've already had once with this door I don't really want to chance my luck. I've already been circumcised so that doesn't leave a lot of "margin for error" when placing one's dearest member in close proximity to a jagged piece of broken glass.

Back to bed to think of anything else. At 7:13am there is a knock on my window from the nurse. "Jordan, open the door". I say, "You open the door!". Knowing this won't get through, I get up and painfully walk towards the door. She's there pointing at the lock at the door. I mirror her movements pointing to the bolt on the outside. In Kenya, I've noticed that all the bolts are recessed behind curved bits of metal or within holes in the door. I can see no logical reason for this. It makes it a lot more difficult to open, is actually more difficult to manufacture, and you can't tell whether the door is locked or not. The charades game is not working, so I decide to go through the motions on my side of unbolting the door. I move the bolt back and forth and the nurse tries the door. It won't budge. No shit Sherlock. She eventually tries the bolt on her side and realises it is locked. She frees the bolt and door bursts open. I nearly knock over the mother with her sick baby trying to get in as I set a land speed record for the 10m dash in thongs from my jail to the squat toilets. Relief ensues.

The day is productive although I spend most of it inside. I'm leaving on Saturday and once I go there will be no opportunity to get to the records of the children. It's a task that I've been partially putting off. I have no problems entering all the factual information such as name, gender, guardian, etc. The thing I've been avoiding is writing the small background piece on each child. Most of the notes are in the files and after the exposure I had to Mercy's history the other day It's really not something I've been looking forward to. However, with my time here coming to a close this is really one of the important things that I have to do. If people knew what these children have been through and how little it costs to provide them with a less bleak future, we would be inundated with offers. My job is to tell their stories.

Unfortunately, my time here is so short and it is right in the middle of the holiday season. Ideally, I would have liked to have made contact with the guardians and got the whole story but I will have to suffice with the few notes attached to some of the files and piece it together.

I put the files on one side and slowly start going through them. I'm off to a good start. Edward. His mother at 23 years of age hangs herself leaving her ailing grandmother to look after the three kids. Unlucky start. John. His mother dies of AIDS when he was 3 leaving him with his grandmother. Shortly afterwards the grandmother dies and he is passed on to her disabled sister. The sister can barely look after herself. The local villagers donate food scraps to them, and the kids at school give him their old uniforms. This is all he has to wear and is caught washing the clothes himself at school standing naked next to them waiting for them to dry. He is severely malnourished and quite sick when he gets to the orphanage. Third time lucky. Another John. His father dies of AIDS when he is 9 days old. His mother dies of AIDS, 3 months later. He is handed off to his elderly grandmother who is unemployed and has to rely on the charity of others for food. This is going to be an emotional day. There are no happy stories here. If there were it wouldn't be an orphanage.

I spent the majority of the day reading files, piecing together stories and summarising it into a brief snapshot for the website. Every couple of hours I wander outside and play with the kids. I need the emotional break and it's uplifting to see the resilience of children. Not just from the physical injuries that they get when they roughly play with each other, but the deep emotional wounds that each of them have suffered. It's hard to imagine they could ever smile again but here they are laughing and playing. Edward is loud and boisterous. John is strong, healthy and compared to the others, surprisingly well groomed. The other John is healthy and loving. It's hard to imagine looking at them that these are the same children in the files. What's worse, is that there are hundreds of children here who don't have files yet. The orphanage can hold 150 kids but there are only 50 today because that is all they can afford.

In the afternoon I finish all the records. I'm emotionally drained. The coloured folders of the cruelty of life lay stacked up on the desk beside me. The children's stories are captured on the website. They've been toned down a fair bit but the messages are still there. I need to get out of my room in the clinic and spend some time with the kids. Mercy comes up to me with a small bracelet she has made me by stringing some beads taken off one of her dresses onto a piece of fishing line. I'm so touched when she puts it around my hand. It's a little big but I'll wear it as long as I can.

I play with them for a couple of hours. During that time I'm constantly peppered with questions about the trip tomorrow. It is so rare that they get out. "Will we be going on one big bus or two small ones?", "If it is a big bus, will it have stairs?", "Will we see a lion, a monkey, a snake, a crocodile?", "Will we take rice from here or will we have bought food?". The questions are endless.

At around 6:30pm, they have their dinner and I go back to my room and have mine. When they bring the plates over I follow them back to make sure they don't bolt me in again. I don't need a repeat of last nights episode.

I do some writing, tinker around with the website and for probably the first time in the last 30 years, am in bed before midnight on New Years Eve. I've got a lot done today and the ongoing effects of it will be very beneficial to the children. However, it's taken it's toll and I need to sleep and forget.

This was a good day.

Jam

30 December, 2008

Even though I went to bed reasonably late, I woke up at 6:29am with a start. I knew I was in a comfortable bed in a clean room but I remembered that my alarm was still set to open up the clinic. It's funny how the human body can do that. I turned it off and went back to bed.

It's always unsettling sleeping in a stranger's house for the first time. You don't really know the morning routines of others. Previously Mike and Evelyn had said get up when you feel like it, and when you get up just ask Elijah to make whatever it is you want for breakfast.

Now if I was at home in my own bed and I knew I didn't have too much planned, I'd be up at the crack of noon. However, I didn't want to appear too slovenly to my hosts so got up at 8:15am. I had another fantastic shower, although the lack of water pressure did irk me; not that I was complaining mind you. Dressed back in my Cura clothes I went downstairs to the wafting aroma of freshly cooked bacon. Shosha was up and having her breakfast. I said hello and stood around in uncomfortable silence until Elijah came to offer me my breakfast. He offered eggs but naturally I declined and instead had bacon and toast. I popped back upstairs and grabbed my laptop to catch up on things.

It really was paradise. Here I was sitting underneath a shady pergola looking out over the pool on one side that was being cleaned by the pool boy, behind that beautifully manicured gardens; whilst on the other side a landscaped terraced backyard tumbling down the hill with plenty of trees. It was all very green and lush. In a few moments, Elijah came out with my breakfast; some juice, fresh tea, heated milk, perfectly cooked bacon, fresh bread lightly toasted and jam.

They say that when you are deprived of all your normal home comforts, like when you are lost in a jungle or on a deserted desert island, or you land a stint in an Asian prison (I speak from experience on the latter), it is the little things that you miss the most. Sometimes it takes a while before you realise how much you miss them. This morning, for me it was jam. I'm not a religious jam connoisseur by any stretch of the imagination. Although there is plenty of jam in my cupboard I will more often opt for the Vegemite (mainly out of patriotic pride) than a marmalade or conserve. However, when I know there is no chance of Vegemite, the thing I love the most about breakfast is jam. It's the one thing I always take in hotels in the morning. I frequently open two or three of the tiny little jars so that I can try them all. I think it's because, to me, jam represents decadence. Whether it be on a scone with clotted cream, or liberally spread over fresh white toast, jam just has a touch of class that you don't get with peanut butter or other spreads. When I make toast myself, Vegemite is fine. However, when I'm served toast made by someone else, then the situation positively demands jam. Beside my toasted bread sat a big jar of jam (well marmalade to be precise), and it was the good stuff. Heaps of bits of visible fruit that actually looked like the fruit it came from not some lumpy nondescript mulsh. I spread the toast with butter while it was still hot, then as the butter started to melt into the bread on went generous knife-fulls of jam. This was paradise.

I savoured breakfast, Elijah came and cleared my tray away, and then I went to work on my laptop. I had a bit of writing to catch up on and wanted to make a few changes to the website that Mike and I had discussed yesterday, so I made myself comfortable and went to work.

Around 12:00pm the battery started to go on my laptop. I had forgotten to charge it overnight. Looking around I couldn't see any power points outside so I had to take the laptop inside to plug it in. I wandered outside and was just sitting down when Evelyn came down. She was surprised that I was there and thought Mike and I had gone somewhere. I said I hadn't seem him. Scarcely a minute later he came downstairs. He had been working in his office oblivious to the fact that I was up.

We sat around and talked for a quite a while then Mike and I decided to go pick up the photos we had submitted yesterday. We jumped into his car and went to the Sarit Centre, collected the photos, picked up a present for a friend of theirs 60th birthday tonight and went back home.

I needed to get back to Cura but before I went, Mike insisted we have lunch. Thinking forward to the likely menu at Cura for the day, I didn't protest. We ordered the car to come and pick me up then sat down for a lovely light lunch. At about 2:45pm the car turned up, I bade my farewells and climbed into the same rust bucket that had dropped me off, for my journey back home.

As the car rumbled into the property the kids came streaming out of the building. They were so happy to see me and I them. I dumped off my stuff and we all mucked around for a couple of hours. Word had got out that I was planning a trip for them so they wanted to know everything about it. Unfortunately, I didn't know exactly what was planned as I left Moses to sort out the details. I went to see him, gave him the photos I had developed and we arranged everything for the next day. We then went to order and pay for the soft drinks for the kids. This involved a 10 minute walk up the dirt road to a little hole in the wall that served as a local shop. The shopkeeper was behind fairly think iron mesh with a rough hole cut in it. We told him that we wanted two crates of soft drinks (48 bottles). Normally in Kenya you have to drink the soft drink at the shop as the bottles are heavily recycled. However, because of the long standing relationship with Moses we were permitted to take the bottles on the bus provided we promised to return them all.

We walked back to the home, I took the remaining files for the kids and Moses went on his way home. It was after 6:30pm. Moses like the house mothers, works seven days a week at the orphanage. I have a final muck around with the kids then head off to my room to finish working on the website. As is usual my dinner is brought over to me about 6:45pm. However, unlike normal nights, when the house mother leaves, she bolts the door from the outside. I discover this when I decide to have a bathroom break. Because this is a clinic, the door is fortified and there is no way I can get it open from the inside. The orphanage is also locked down at night. Me and my engorged bladder are locked in for the night. I contemplate urinating out of one of the windows, and to be honest, in this country that wouldn't be the most offensive thing I could do, but know that if I did, I would guarantee to be seen and the level of communication between us all was not good enough to explain the situation. I decide to think about something else and tough it out.

We have decided that we will like to capture all the children's school records in the website, so this is something I need to finish tonight as there is not much time until I go. I get everything working around midnight and go to bed. It takes a good deal of mental effort to think of non-liquid thoughts as I drift off to sleep.

This was a good day.

Jaunt

29 December, 2008

I woke up at 6:30am but went through the morning ritual of opening up the clinic. Although it has become ritual it does require me to be fully awake. The reason for this is that on about the second or third day I was opening the fairly stiff bolt with my eyes half shut and it suddenly decided to give very quickly jamming the top of my thumb in the housing for the bolt. This woke me up considerably. Not only did I get a massive blood blister on my thumb but managed to take the top of it off as well. It started bleeding profusely. Just what anyone needs at 6:30am. Despite being in a clinic I went to my own trusty travellers kit and dressed the wound applying liberal amounts of Betadine to it and two plasters for good measure. As I lay back in bed trying to sleep as my thumb throbbed with pain. I could actually feel each beat of my heart through a shooting pain in my thumb.

The thing that separates us from the rest of the animal kingdom is opposable thumbs. Having now lost the use of of the aforementioned thumbs I was left feeling only half human. Of course, the contributing factor to that could have been the removal of all the comforts that I also felt had separated us from the animal kingdom such as clean running water, refrigeration, electric cooking, television and broadband internet to name just a few.

Ensuring I was wide awake not to injure myself at 6:30am had the unfortunate consequence of making it more difficult for me to go back to sleep once the clinic had been opened. That being said my genetic predisposition to rapid sleep meant that it took 5 minutes instead of 2 - 3.

At about 7:30am the children got restless enough to want to come and see if I was awake. I could hear them talking in the loudest of whispers that only a child is able to make. The "curtain" (i.e. flimsy transparent piece of cloth probably a sheet) was drawn over my window yet I could see the silhouette of two small boys (Manyara and George) as they stood on the window sill trying to find a way to see if I was away but at the same time subtly wake me if I wasn't. I was staring at the window when they worked out how to move the curtain away and two smiling black faces were grinning back at me. "Uncle, you awake. I coming." they both said as they jumped down from the window sill, and I heard the rapid staccato of small bare feet on concrete as they sprinted round the outside of the clinic, through the entrance and down the concrete corridor into my room. Once there they was always at a loss as what to do. Their carefully constructed plan of waking me up as usual hadn't included what to do once I was awake. They carefully edged around the room grabbing articles and exclaiming, "this socks", "this torch", "this cup", "this thermonuclear flux capacitor" (a crucial element should I need to return back to present day).

I shooed them out which always ended with them uttering, "I go now. Good-bye", as if this was somehow their decision. I got dressed and started working on the website again. Today was a big day. I was heading to Nairobi. This meant showers, non-squat toilets and above all, internet access. There was a noticeable spring in my smelly unwashed step.

At about 8:30am I went over to see Moses to make arrangements for the day. He was busy doing the end of year accounts for the orphanage but I arranged to meet with him at 9am to go through the work I had done. I went back to make a few finishing touches and about 5 minutes later was joined by Mercy. Mercy is a delightful little girl that is so happy. She is around 9 years old and is constantly dancing. Whenever there is music she slips into a happy trance as she grooves her body around to the beat. She has uncanny timing and a sense of rhythm. She looks at the files on my small table and starts going through them squealing with delight at each picture. She works out that I'm doing something with the files as I move them from a pile on one side to a pile on the other. She ruffles through them until she finds hers and says "Do me next". I take the file from her and she is so happy even though she is completely oblivious as to what it is I'm doing. Her file is as scant as the rest. A photo, an application form, an acceptance form, and an HIV negative certificate. Additionally there are some school records. Her results are always between 94% and 100%. She is an incredibly intelligent young girl. I notice that her mother is alive which is unusual for the other orphans. As I'm flicking back through I notice some hand written notes on the back of her application form. They are by her grandfather. In this he explains that Mercy's mother suffers from mental illness. She is always taking Mercy out of school and doesn't want her to go, Mercy is heavily beaten whenever she tries to sneak off to school. Her mother also refuses to wash her or let anyone else wash her, regularly burns her school uniform and school books and frequently disappears with Mercy to be found days or weeks later living rough in the bush. Her grandfather pleads to have her accepted in the home without her mothers knowledge so that she can return to her studies and have a chance at making something of herself. As I look at Mercy I can see scars on her arms, legs and face, scars that I had previously attributed to normal childhood injuries in Kenya but now had a much more disturbing association. Unaware of what I was reading, she looked at me with the biggest smile that broke my heart.

It was 9 o'clock so I took a couple of files over to Moses along with my computer. He initially said that he didn't need to see this and was quite busy. Fear of the unknown. I told him it would only take 10 mins so he agreed. We had to start at the very beginning. Moses didn't know what a website was, or even what the internet is. Hardly surprising though. We all take for granted that less than two decades ago, 99% of the Western world was in the same position. Can you remember when you first saw the world wide web? If you weren't in a university chances are it would have been in the last decade and not the preceding one. Now it's hard to imagine life without it. Explaining to someone who has really never even used a computer what the internet is was proving to be quite challenging. But with the aid of a few roughly drawn diagrams I got the message across. Then I had to explain to him how his particular website was going to work. There are two sides to the website. An administration side and the public facing side. The admin side is to allow someone like Moses to very simply enter or update information on the kids through the use of simple forms. Part of this information is also displayed on the public website dynamically. It took me showing him several times before the light finely went on. Then there was no holding him back. He wanted to know more about this internet, how he could tell the world about the work they were doing in Cura and how they could get support from the world to continue the work. Before long we had been chatting animatedly for an hour. I glanced at the time and told Moses we should finish up. I promised to spend more time discussing this with him the next day but I needed to get ready for my jaunt to Nairobi.

At around 12:20pm my car turned up. This was a beat up old car driven by a friendly man called Peter. He had once been to Mike and Evelyn's place several months ago and thought he knew the way. We contacted Mike briefly to make sure. It was about a 45 minute trip and all he was required to do was drop me off. Moses asked him how much and Peter replied 1,000 shillings (€10). All to quickly I agreed completely destroying the bargaining position we had as Moses tried to argue it was a bit expensive. They spoke for a couple of minutes but the situation was futile thanks to my outburst and we got into the car. Peter offers me the seat-belt end to plug my seat-belt into. I think he was just doing this to impress rather than out of concern for my safety. While one end of the seat-belt was secured firmly in the centre of the vehicle, the other end was of a length that, in the event of an accident it would have fully restrained me about half way down the bonnet once I had smashed through the windscreen. Moses came along until we got to the tarmac road as he needed to get the accounts typed up. At the tarmac road an old gentlemen got in and continued along with us until Kikuyu. He was a poultry farmer and was off to buy some more chickens. I was glad we picked him up on the way there rather than the way back! I have noticed that in Kenya it is only the first person who pays the fare of the taxi. It is completely acceptable to pick up other people on the way and deposit them at various places so long as it's not out of the way. The old car lurches down the road onto the highway as we head to Nairobi. At one point Peter takes out a screwdriver and jams it into the innards of the car whilst we are driving. Even with my basic automotive knowledge I can see no reason for this activity.

We arrive at Mike Eldon's place and the guard lets us through the huge iron doors. I pay the driver and he's off back to Cura or Wangige. I never worked out where he came from.

Mike and Evelyn have waited until my arrival until they have lunch. We head through their house out to the sprawling backyard, up to the little pool house by the swimming pool. The area they live in is a particularly nice one and all the houses around are similar. Despite their idyllic comforts, all of them are encased in high electric fences. There are guards at every entrance point, and armed patrol vehicles circle the neighbourhood. Throughout the property are strategically placed panic buttons that once pressed divert all the patrol vehicles to that property. It's a harsh reminder that all is not always well here and the troubles of early in the year are still uncomfortably at the forefront of peoples minds.

We have a simple lunch that is peppered with conversation about what I've been doing in Cura and my observations. Mike and Evelyn ask me to stay with them tonight rather than a hotel. I'm extremely grateful for their hospitality although with no internet connection at their home I feel a pang of withdrawal from my life blood.

Mike and I then leave to do a few errands at the local shopping centre. As we are heading to his country club tonight, decent attire will be required by me. He offers to lend me a jacket and tie but I will need a shirt and pants. I'd also like to get some photos developed for the kids and if time permits a haircut.

The first thing we do is head to the photo shop. I realise that this is going to be quite expensive. The photos are 30 shillings each and I want around 680 developed. This will be over €200 enough to support a child for about 6 months. I cut back on some of the copies and Mike negotiates a bit of discount but I'm still left paying around 14,000 shillings (€140) for the photos. There is a Woolworths in the shopping centre and given the disposable intention of the outfit is the perfect place to purchase what I need. A get a crisp white shirt and black slacks for around 5,000 shillings (€50). We then head up to the hairdresser. Mike used to have offices in this building so everyone knows him. The owner of the hairdresser comes out and offers to cut my hair herself. As in Japan, in hairdressers they wash your hair after they cut it. This makes a lot more sense then what happens in other countries. Having not had a shower for a week I'm embarrassed about the state of my hair. Mike explains what I'm doing in Kenya and the woman proudly tells us that four of the girls in the salon have all been rescued by her from orphanages, trained up as hairdressers or beauticians and given a huge start in life. The haircut and subsequent neck massage cost 1,000 shillings (€10).

We head back to Mike's place and get ready to go out. I have my first shower for the week and despite the low water pressure is one of the best in my life. Evelyn is taken back when she sees me groomed and properly dressed. Having not had the use of a mirror for over a week, with my dirty unkempt hair, and my crushed and filthy clothes, I must have looked a sight when I first turned up.

Mike, Evelyn, her mother (Shosha) and I climb into his car and we head off to the Mathago Club. This is an old colonial style club. Mobile phones are banned, jackets and ties mandatory in the dining room and a look and feel of a bygone era emanating throughout the entire establishment. We head to a private dining room which consists of an ante-room with comfortable chairs, coffee tables and a personal bar staffed by two impeccably dressed Kenyan men; and a large dining room with a long table, candelabras, silver service cutlery and a huge antique mirror on one of the walls.

Mike and I have the standard anti-malarial medicine (Gin & Tonic) in the ante-room as several other people join the gathering. Tonight is the surprise birthday party for Milicent, Evelyn's sister. Months of preparation have gone into trying to keep this a surprise. The whole thing has been arranged by Evelyn and Milicent's daughter, Tracy. Tracy is a fashion buyer living in New York who is currently studying in Monte Carlo with a view to changing industries and ultimately returning to Kenya. Tracy has arranged with Evelyn to be able to signal her when they arrive at the the club. The signal arrives and the lights are doused as we all fall into silence. For some unknown reason the two bar staff duck down behind the bar. Washoka (Evelyn's daughter) is talking to her grandmother (Shosha) and keeps laughing. She is shushed by Evelyn but the laughter continues. Tracy and Milicent seem to have got lost since arriving at the club and we all sit there in near silent darkness for a good ten minutes. The silence is sporadically punctured by bursts of laughter from Washoka. We later learn that because Shosha can't be trusted to keep a secret she has been kept in the dark about the whole affair. She is completely oblivious as to why we are there, why we are sitting in the dark and why we aren't allowed to talk. When the barmen ducked behind the bar, she panicked and thought something bad was happening. Washoka thought this was hilarious as she tried to explain to her that it was a surprise party for her daughter.

After sending one of the waiters out to retrieve the misplaced guest of honour, she finally arrived to a big burst of noise as we shouted surprise simultaneously as the lights came on. Milicent did her part of acting surprised but later revealed that she was suspicious when nobody called her to wish her happy birthday that day. (A trap for young players in organising surprise events!).

We had a lovely meal accompanied by some very emotional speeches from everyone. Gifts were given and I was completely surprised to have received two gifts from Mike and Evelyn. A t-shirt with Swahili phrases on it and a beautiful notepad decorated with African art. The evening went on until after midnight. Animated conversations were held including a particularly interesting one about when was the right time for parents to go into homes. With three generations at the table and the middle generation advancing towards that point it was interesting to see people views changing.

After a pleasant evening we came back to Mike and Evelyn's place and I was fast asleep in a normal comfortable bed around 1am.

This was a good day.