25th December, 2008
Pants around my ankles, standing in urine, the stench of faecal matter rising up my nostrils, and squatting over a roughly cut hole in a concrete floor whilst trying not to fall over as I lay a Yule log. Yes, I'm sure this how many of you also spent your Christmas morning. Merry Christmas one and all!
I have spent more than 17 years living in countries where the privy of choice was the squat. I was extremely proud of the fact that I've always been able to avoid using one even if it meant ducking into a local hotel or in many cases holding it all in. On December 25th, 2008 in the middle of Kenya at 37 years of age, that proud record has been broken. Anyway, this post is not going to be about shitting although like the others it is likely to be full of crap.
After my early morning excrement experience, I went back to bed to sleep in a bit. At 7:30 there was a knock on the door and half a dozen kids came in. They brought a large thermos full of tea with them. I shooed them away, drank some tea and got up and ready. They were all still dirty and in their normal clothes but were excited that it was Christmas. I went back to my room to work on the website for the home. After a couple of hours Moses came in. He was wearing a suit and tie. I wished him Merry Christmas and we went over to the Board Room where I met Kenneth and another guy from the village who I had previously seen herding goats. They were both dressed impeccably with suits and ties. Although I had new clothes on I wasn't in the same league and here in the heart of Africa surrounded by locals I felt woefully underdressed.
By the time we finished a hot chocolate, it was time to go to church. As the service was going to be in Kikuyu I excused myself and continued working on the website. Whilst working, I could hear the kids singing at Sunday School (even though it is a Thursday), and the adults singing in the church. Occasionally I recognise the melody of a song but the words are always either Kikuyu or Swahili.
I make some good progress on the website over the next 2 hours. Then there is a knock at the door, and a delightful, clean little boy in a purple jumper comes in. It takes me a moment to recognise it is Manyara. He is in his Sunday best and looks very cute. I grab my camera and head out to see the rest of the children. The normal rag tag bunch, with dirty hands and faces, wearing the same ripped clothing day in and day out have been magically transformed into a bunch of pleasant clean little children. I take lots of photos of them.
One of the house mothers comes over and chastises the kids for not singing to me. She revs them up and I have 30+ children singing songs to me in front of the orphanage. It is quite touching.
Moses comes over and suggests that we hand out the presents now. We make the kids line up in two lines, one for boys and one for girls. Moses asks me if I'd like to give them the presents but I'd rather take photos so let him do it. They are all so excited. I do feel bad that they are all shamelessly promoting AXA in their branded caps, balloons, and little nylon backpacks. The kids don't seem to mind though. As I watch them bursting with excitement about the contents of their backpacks, I well up not for the last time today. To see such joy from a plastic car, a lollipop and some company give-aways has been the highlight of my trip so far.
After spending nearly 45 mins watching the kids who are still so excited about their gifts, the food turns up. A lovely lady called Judy, who owns a couple of restaurants in Nairobi has donated some food for the kids. No ugali today! One of the restaurants she owns is a Chinese restaurant so each kid gets a plastic container full of friend rice, with some chicken and chapati bread. They busily devour it with their hands. There is a lovely Kenyan tradition at this time of year that says that the children should be served before the adults. They all line up in order of height with the smallest at the front and lunch is served. Then the adults are served. The fried rice is fairly decent but the chicken is the toughest I've ever tried to eat. Reminds me a bit of scrub turkey. (Legend has it that you put a scrub turkey and a stone in a pot of water and boil it. When the stone melts throw away the scrub turkey and drink the soup.)
Lunch was finally over and the children are being entertained by the friends and relatives of Judy who have come to help. They sing lots of songs and play some games. One of the funniest one is called balloon busting. They put a balloon between two kids and they have to hug each other until the balloon breaks. Most of the time, the balloon didn't break as they kids just didn't have the strength so they adapted it by having them sit on the balloons. The kids were squealing with delight.
When the games had concluded, the adults sang to the kids, then the kids sang for the adults again. There really was so much love and joy in the courtyard. Rather than all that religious shit, this is what Christmas is supposed to be about.
At about 4pm, Moses was heading back to his house. He asked me if I wanted to go and see his place. We head off with Kenneth and I saw Manyara trailing behind us. We had to tell him several times to go back. He's really become my little shadow. Having already been to a few people's places in Kenya including Daniel's which is right next to Moses' place I think I'll be prepared for this visit. I'm not. Moses lives in a roughly built corrugated iron place that is painted green. There is a concrete slab on the floor but that is about it for creature comforts. A tiny television sits in the corner of the only room that I see with a busted antenna that constantly needs to be moved around. The remote control is covered in cling film. Moses introduces me to his two daughters, two sons and nephew. The nephew and one of the sons are busily roughly chopping up some meat between them. One holds either side and pulls while the other cuts.
I sit down and we talk a little at first but then Moses puts on the TV and the talking ceases. The TV is in Swahili so I'm not getting a lot out of it. The older daughter says she wants to go for a soda and asks me if I want to go with her. Given the choices I agree, and the two daughters and I head up the dirt road to the nearest kiosk. Along the way we run into a few of their friends and so onwards we continue. We get to the first shop and it's shut, as is the second. They say that we will have no choice but to go to Wangige. It is about 4:45pm and I know Wangige is a hike from here. They say we should be back by 6pm so I agree to go.
I'm not sure exactly why the girls invited me. It could be my rugged good looks and charm but it is probably more likely that they wanted to show their friends the latest freak their father has brought home. We head off to the tarmac road and I am the object of much attention for each house we pass.
When we get to the road, we flag down a small minibus and all pile in. Five minutes later we are at Wangige. It is still busy but nowhere near as busy as on previous visits. We head over to the far side, down a dirt hill and into what looks like a bar. Going inside we take the stairs up to the first floor balcony and grab a table. The youngest girl is 14 but the other two are probably around 20-22. They ask me if I drink beer saying that they like it. Sensing danger, I ask for a coke and having set the tone, the others follow suit.
We chat about what they want to do, how their older sister just missed out on a Green Card (for the US), and what it is like to drive a car. One of the girls says her career ambition is to be a driver. She plans on going to driving school next year. With the cokes finished and the sun starting to set, we make a move back. They try to pay for the drinks but I refuse to let them. Even though it is only about €1.50 for the four drinks, none of them are employed. I also pay the €0.40 for the four of us to catch the minibus back.
We finally get to Moses' place again at around 6:30pm. He shows me around the rest of the property including some of his cows which the two boys are busily milking and then I head back to the home. As I approach the outside gates of the home, the watchman and two of the house mothers are there waiting for me. They escort me in and I go straight down into the home itself and the doors are bolted behind us. I join the kids in one of the small bedrooms that has been labelled a common room. There is a TV bolted to the wall and lots of little chairs with two small coffee tables. The house mothers and I eat dinner together in front of the children. Tonight's meal is rice, cabbage and potato. As always they serve me way too much food and I can't eat it all. We play with the kids until about 8pm when I excuse myself and head back to the clinic which is where my room is.
This ends probably one of the most different Christmas days I've ever spent in my life but certainly it is the most rewarding.
This was a good day.
No comments:
Post a Comment