Walking4Water

A night in the coffee fields

Sat, 04 May 2013 04:50:08 -0400

We’re walking up a never-ending hill, and we’re about halfway up the hill and these two girls begin to walk with us. They say, “Many people are surprised to see you”, “they are excited to see muzungu’s” and ask us about where we are going. We tell them we’re heading towards Ethiopia, and they ask us if we want to rest at their home for the night. The invitation sounds great to us considering the impending rain and nightfall. We ask if it is okay with their parents. They say, “let me check!”. So we’re standing and waiting for them next to a church, and all of a sudden about 50 children emerge from inside. Startled but excited to see two random white people standing there, they start to crowd around. An adult comes out and tells them to sing a song for us. They do - in unison, a song about welcoming strangers into their homes and communities. When they are finished, we applaud. The girls have returned and we start to make our way to their house. When we arrive, their parents were quite surprised to see us (I’m not sure who they “checked with”?), but immediately welcomed us into their home, and we quickly fell in love with the family.

One of the older girls in particular was very intelligent and asked us lots of questions. The younger ones busied themselves playing with my hair. We ate a great dinner with them and talked about everything from AIDS to Obama to snow and coffee (the main crop of the area). People don’t own much land individually, but they all grow coffee. The government buys it from them at about .25cents a pound. They get a bit more if Brazil has had a bad harvest apparently. The money doesn’t actually go very far at the end of the day, as I’m sure you can imagine.

The “grandma” - whose house we were all staying in (most of the family doesn’t actually live there- they were visiting from Nairobi - for a funeral…amazing the joy still in them as they welcomed us into their home) had what I would diagnose on sight as Parkinson’s - they simply explained she was “sick” but they were doing all they could for her. She was very cute. She asked Aaron to sing her a song, and he did! Something about the ‘ol west? Then the girls sang “Jesus loves me” and then the grandma sang. She sang a song about how great God is , while also asking when she would be healed. It was quite a moment to look into her wide eyes as she sat up as straight as she could muster across from me, hands shaking wildly as she sang those words.

But probably my favorite family member was 2 1/2 year old Bianca. She followed me everywhere! Even tried to follow me to the bathroom. As soon as I would come out she would run with her hands up for me to pick her up. We danced and played and had a lot of fun.

And in the middle of the night, as we listened to the rain fall, we were grateful for the roof over our heads.

This town is NUTSSS

Sat, 04 May 2013 04:32:57 -0400

Seriously…what an experience. This is how it went down.

Sat down at a local café for lunch. Met a guy, Steven, who sat at the table next to us. Chatting…good guy The only one we met though. So we’re just sitting there and this older, drunk, boisterous guy comes up and starts talking through the window at us. Mostly to Aaron – who to his credit is gracious and nods his head along as he listens to this guy sputter nonsense. But the other guy at Steven’s table is trying to eat his food and this guy is bothering him. (There’s only two tables in the whole place – the guy at the other table could probably even smell the breath from the older guy). So he gets up and makes him go away. As in he alerts the owners that he is unhappy and they push him out. I watched this lady smack him a few times with a big, contented smile on her face. The guy…kind of goes away. A few minutes later we hear loud banging and look out and they’ve pinned him to the ground and are hitting him. Then they disappear from our sight - Steven gets up and went out to investigate, comes back and says, “So they got angry with them, and are tying him up”. Aaron and I look at each other like, “For real?!?” Soon they place him, with literally bound hands and feet, outside in the corner. We’ve decided since that it was kind of like an adult spanking and time out? When he was released, he left and didn’t come back.

Still sitting there a while later, this lady comes in, shakes our hands, stands in the middle of the room, and motions kind of like she’s praying, mutters outloud for a few minutes, then abruptly stops and leaves again. We look at the only other guy sitting in there, who just shakes his head and laughs. Okay…

Then we decide to leave. On our way out of town, this guy, covered in mud, exclaims, “God told me you were coming!” and starts to chase us. Literally chase us, we walked quite quickly.

Nuts. absolutely nuts.

Typical day in Kenya!

Sat, 04 May 2013 04:23:29 -0400

-Woke up to cows “screaming”

- Walked back through Eucalyptus forest and jumped fence to get back to the road

-Walked

-Saw coffee shop. It was closed. Too early? It was 9:15.

-Walked into bar accidentally while looking for teahouse. Greeted exuberantly by all the early bird customers.

-Wandered around town and found a place for breakfast. Delicious. Cost $1 total.

- Walked

- Passed by giant roadside fruit stands. Stopped to chat. Was given oranges.

-Walked.

- Met a man who was very excited to meet us and helped us find a place for lunch. Cost .60cents total.

- Went to buy a soda. Met a guy who had seen us walking (his mom owned the soda shop).Told him what we were doing and he was very nice, wanted to buy me another soda.

- Spent half my break playing with a little girl and the other half reading. Currently reading a novel by Wilber Smith called “River God”.

- Walked.

- Met a lady named Mary who was a pastor and had me write my name in her Bible so she could pray for me.

- Walked.

- Met a police officer named Ronald who gave us each two bananas and wished us a nice journey.

- Walked.

- Saw raincloud approaching. Made it to bar/restaurant just as it started to come down.

- Walked

- Bought veggies for dinner.

- Had little kid start to follow us. As we were leaving town, we couldn’t have him follow us forever into the busy. Tried to lovingly convince him to go home.

- Another woman came along, spanked him and he went home.

- Sad face.

- Walked.

- Walked longer than we planned.

- Finally found empty patch of land to camp.

- About 10 local kids came to hang out.

- Aaron amazes them with “kung fu” skills – swinging his walking stick around. Combination of fear and excitement.

- Put up tent, cooked dinner, talked to kids.

- Dinner took forever, we were trying to cook squash.

- Eat dinner.

- Something in fire explodes.

- Kid exclaim , “it is a lizard! Or Osama Bin Laden!”

- Ask us millions of questions.

- Laughter.

- Fire dies out.

- Sleep.

Maasai-land

Tue, 23 Apr 2013 07:48:25 -0400

Recently, we walked through “Maasai-land”. By far, I think it has been our favorite people group so far. They were so welcoming, and kind. Also, I think I felt at home with their nomad-spirits, and they liked to joke that we have their blood flowing through our veins. Maasai’s walk very far - often we would see them on the roads.They couldn’t believe we would walk such great distances - we must be one of them!

They believe (at least traditionally) that they have ‘come from heaven with their cows’, so they are mostly pastoralists, living with their cows and goats in “the bush” in parts of Tanzania and Kenya. The reason they walk so much is to find better pasture during the dry season, they’ve told us some people walk 1000-2000km just to do so.

Many Maasai’s still wear their traditional dress - making for beautiful hues of purples and reds that would dot the landscape where we were walking. They also carry traditional swords, a stick, and a tool for milking cows. It’s really quite an outfit. Many also wore extravagant jewelery, and had stretched ears from wearing it.

Unfortunately, they would probably also admit that their way of life is becoming more and more challenging because of things like industrialization and fences, even though they’d like to hold onto it as long as possible. Fences make it hard to wander for thousands of kilometers with your cows. And with industrialization, some people are moving to take jobs in the cities. But we are glad we have been able to meet them and learn about their way of life.

Thanks for the watermelons, tea, coffee, conversations, and accepting us among you as one of your own.

Fun moments lately

Tue, 23 Apr 2013 07:18:29 -0400

- Yesterday I had to rock-hop to cross a rather large puddle, crossing at least a 20 foot distance. For those of you that know my inclination on the klutzy side - you better believe it was a comical sight. There were totally collective “oohs”, “ahhs” and laughs from the crowd.

- I was sitting drinking tea, and a little Maasai girl and her mother come and sit next to me. The girl asked me a string of questions and translated for her mom, eyes wide as we explained our trek to her. Eventually she got up the nerve to reach over and rub my arm. When I was obviously not perturbed, and held out my arm, her mother grabbed it and stroked it up and down. People here rarely have arm hair here, they are very amused by it.

-Our “big rain” experience was made more tolerable by making a friend - James - who fed us breakfast and talked about how HE walked across Kenya from Lake Turkana to Kilimanjaro as a volunteer aiding an explorer. It was fun to hear his stories of falling down mountains and running from buffalo.

- Staying in Nairobi, we have two cute neighbor kids. Taught them how to high-5 and made their day by taking their picture. Also got to teach a little girl on the bus how to high-5. Spread the love of the high-5.

The BIG Rain

Tue, 23 Apr 2013 07:12:49 -0400

Some dead, some injured, and more than 52,000 people were displaced this week when torrential rains caused flooding across Kenya. Our tent got flooded two nights in a row, and ever since my ipod has been on the fritz, but now we are dry and well. Obviously whatever discomfort we suffered is nothing in comparison.

My friend Charity.

Tue, 23 Apr 2013 07:10:25 -0400

The other day I walked with a girl named Charity - who was quite charitable to us in showing us a good, cheap place we could stay. She asked me questions about the walk and I asked her questions about her life. At 20, she has lived in Nairobi her whole life, but has dreams of travelling to other countries as well. She is currently unemployed, and not very hopeful about the job market in Kenya - often controlled by bribery or “personal favors”. I asked her about what kind of job she wanted - and she was open to almost anything - as long as it “wasn’t prostitution” or “violated her pride”. Although glad to hear her be strong about her convictions, its sad that she’s obviously thought about it or considered it.

It’s amazing the amount of people in this world who have been forced into making unthinkable choices or doing unthinkable things in order to survive. This past week we were told that sometimes girls here are sold when they are 9-10 years old as wives to other community members when families need money.

Finally, she confessed what she really wanted to do was open her own business selling fruit. In her words, “if you sell food out here, you will make it. Everybody needs food. But if you sell clothes, you will end up wearing them.” Haha.

Best of luck to our friend Charity.

Tanzania’s opinion of their water situation, highlighted...

Thu, 28 Mar 2013 09:38:30 -0400

Tanzania’s opinion of their water situation, highlighted especially this week for “World Water Week”

The floor was originally made of cement, but in many classrooms was eroding, leaving deep rivets....

Thu, 28 Mar 2013 09:34:34 -0400

The floor was originally made of cement, but in many classrooms was eroding, leaving deep rivets. The cement and dust lingered in the air as children “swept” up using makeshift brooms made of leaves. Sweeping, washing blackboards, clearing the yard, those were the first tasks of the day before a jog, brief exercises, and then classroom time.

The sun had barely risen, but I could hear their voices before I stepped out of the “bedroom” to observe their cleaning frenzy. We were invited by the teachers-in-training to spend the night with them at the school. College students at the district capital, they would be at this school for two months. From what I observed, I didn’t know whether to be proud of or frustrated for these to-be-teachers; but I was appalled that this was probably “normal” for them.

It seemed like an experience that would stretch me in profound ways had I been in their shoes. 4 girls, 3 guys, each gender given a closet-sized room in the school to share between them; 1 twin-sized mattress on the ground per two people. This room was also where they were “designated space” to prepare lessons, cook, eat, and relax after a long day’s work.

As all 9 of us crammed into the “girls” room to eat together, sitting on the “beds” and on the floor, eating rice and beans out of plastic containers by the light of a single lamp, one of the teachers-in-training turned to me and asked, “How can Tanzania develop like the U.S? Why can’t we seem to do the same thing? What is the secret to your success as a country?” Although feeling pretty inept to answer this question, I wanted to scream about a government who valued education enough to provide electricity for students/teachers, and not make the teachers themselves sleep in the closest.

I was astounded by other things I learned while there, like that for 9/10 subjects, course material is provided in English; a language only about 50% of the teachers and barely any of the kids understand or speak.

The highschoolers (and therefore also the teachers) seemed to have ridiculously long hours, they weren’t dismissed for the evening till around 6pm.

Although technically illegal, corporal punishment is still alive and well in most schools, seen as “the only way to make them work”.

One of the teachers wanted me to encourage the students the next day, he suggested that I tell them I would come back and bring presents for them even if I wasn’t going to. I told him I would love to encourage the students but I didn’t think it was a good idea to lie to him. (Don’t get me started on the issue of foreign aid dependency and the attitude this encourages).

As much as I could talk all day about the much-needed improvements in the US public school system, I was very grateful for its benefits on this day.

Pick out my seeds with your sword

Sat, 16 Mar 2013 09:14:19 -0400

Walking down the dirt road, I spotted a man in the distance. As we grew closer, it was obvious that we were the target of this larger-than-life Maasai’s gaze, as he stood watching us, shielding the sun from his eyes. I was almost safely past when he called me over, and I timidly altered my course of direction towards the intimidating figure, dressed in the traditional red “dress”, equipped with a belt holding a sword, cattle stick and the extremely out-of-place cell phone. He grasped my hands within his large ones, and kindly but curiously asked about where we were coming from/going, etc. I could see Aaron out of the corner of my eye answering similar questions to a local farmer who had appeared on scene.

Introductions and preliminary questions over, we were soon invited to eat some watermelon, and sit on a bench in the shade.

As the hired farm-hand runs to gather watermelons from the field, the Massai, standing in front of me takes out his sword and starts to clean it. I can’t help wondering what it last cut open and hoping that the next thing it is destined to slice is merely the watermelon.

As I try to brush the outer black seeds off my piece of watermelon (while fondly remembering being scared of the lie that watermelons could grow inside of my if I swallowed one, and teasing my little sister with the same years later) the Maasai reaches his sword over to the piece in my hand and begins to pluck them out with the tip! Although realizing there was nothing to fear within the teddy bear of a man with watermelon juice dribbling down his chin, it was still an interesting moment.

While we feasted, a man on a motorbike came, to eat with us, but also to deliver meat to the farmer, pulling a cardboard box off the back of the bike, and, using a machete to chop up the still bloodied- I’m assuming goat?

After demolishing a whole watermelon, the farmer wouldn’t let us leave without taking more watermelon with us! We tried to get away with just one, but ended up with two…not that we didn’t want watermelon, but when you have to carry it for miles, lets just say you start to wonder whether its more of a burden or blessing. I tried at one point to carry it on my head like a good African women, but realized it wasn’t actually any lighter that way, and gave into my arms getting an extra workout for the day. (How they carry 40lbs of water on their heads I’ll never know!).

It did provide breakfast and lunch for us the next day. Thanks guys!

Break the walls that divide us

Tue, 26 Feb 2013 07:57:25 -0500

I invite you to an experiment. Go to a place you’ve never been before. You are permitted 3 phrases, “Hello”, “Thank You”, and “No English”, and now; try to have a normal day. The experiment still won’t be totally complete, because you will still recognize the words being spoken around you, understand signs and anything playing on TV; even though you are not interacting with them..( assuming you’ve chosen and English speaking neighborhood). That’s what it is like for us often. I try to add words continually, now I know “where” and “water” and “well” and a few informal greetings. And I hope to learn more and more. But sometimes it is difficult.

And that’s just language.

Malcolm Gladwell tells a story in his book, “The Tipping Point” about a Korean American school teacher who went to New England for vacation sometime in the 1940’s. The teacher stopped to ask for directions to a hill he (I forget whether it was a he or she) had read about in a guidebook that was a historical site. Somehow, a rumor got started that he was a Japanese spy! Couldn’t be further from the truth. But something unknown combined with inherent superstitions often create deception.

Because white people in Africa usually don’t just walk long distances through rural villages, or eat local foods, or carry heavy bags, or fetch water from local water sources, we have the tendency to create quite a stir. Sometimes I rejoice that it seems to be positive, we can in some small ways break down stereotype and cultural barriers and demonstrate that we’re all the same, no race or nationality is better than another.

But it can also often be awkward, sometimes there are misunderstandings, and sometimes (especially when you add a language barrier) deception of character or intent can occur. One time, someone came to explain to us that there were rumors that we were human traffickers and were going to kidnap their children! One time, they mistook us for murderers who sell body parts on the black market. One time, they were concerned we might be Somali pirates! Really? Yes. I kid you not.

Those are extreme examples. But on a more everyday level, there is an assumption that we are rich, and people will try to extort or overcharge us (and are sometimes surprised when we don’t fall for the trick). Although most children and very excited, even overjoyed to see us, and will wave and greet us, some children, upon seeing us start to scream, shriek, and run away in terror (much to the amusement of their parents) because we are unknown to them.

Martin Luther King Jr. said,

Men hate each other because they fear each other,
and they fear each other because they don’t know each other, and they don’t know each other
because they are often separated from each other.

We have to intentionally decide to cross borders and break barriers even when we are afraid or uncomfortable. If we all did that every day, in Africa, and in our own neighborhoods, we have the power to transform our own lives as well as to impact the world in an astounding way. It is possible! I hope for that day.

And in the meantime, I hope to learn more Swahili.

Today's top headlines

Tue, 26 Feb 2013 04:12:06 -0500

“Ways Sought to Ensure Great Ruaha Flows Year Round”

(One of Tanzania’s major rivers has dried up in places in post years, demanding a meeting of everyone from the WWF, to Ministry of Livestock and Fisheries, Ministry of Water/Irrigation, and many more stakeholders gathering to discuss the problem).

“Trouble Looms for Dar’s Water Thieves”

(Apparently only 12% of water pumped into Dar es Salaam is actually reaching paying customers. Estimates are that 32% of water is being “stolen” and the remaining 56% is lost to leakage. And the police are going on a rampage.)

“Over 7000 Pastoralists Get Reliable Water in Simanjiro”

(7000 Maasi now have access to safe water thanks to an American charity group. “Speaking on behalf of fellow women, Naitajewoke Laiser thanks the American people for the assistance, saying women in the area would now save the time they previously spent on fetching water to engage in other income-generating activities).

These were the HEADLINES of the paper. So many water-related issues! As a side note, mother’s independent access to funds is the number one determinant of whether or not a child will live to see their 5^th birthday in the developing world. The trickle down effect of having access to safe water is monumental.

From our perspective, Tanzania seems to have the least amount of access to clean water compared to everywhere else we’ve walked through. We’ve only seen 3 clean water boreholes in the past 3 weeks we’ve been here.

A sideline news item was also that another man had his house burnt down by fellow villagers who superstitiously believed that he was preventing the rain. Those arrested were 45 and older.

On the back page of international news was the news about the Pope resigning and Americans drinking too much.

Lesson learned: don't discount the smelly, creepy guy just yet.

Tue, 26 Feb 2013 04:08:52 -0500

He was wearing the button-off hood of a winter jacket, the rest of his clothes were torn, teeth brown, and he had scraggly facial hair. And he came to us with a warning of rain, advising us to take shelter in a building just ahead. No more than five minutes later, the road started disappearing in front of us, as a giant wall of rain streamlined in our direction.

Aaron turned to me with an amused look in his eye, and I knew what was coming even before he said, “Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m making it to that building before the storm!” - and takes off running. And I think he knew what I was going to say before I said, “I hate this!” and scurried after him.

(I hate running with a fully loaded backpack – definitely my least favorite thing to do.)

He tried to shout back some encouragement, and in some combination of walking/running, we made it to the building just in the nick of time.

The sound of pouring rain on tin roof can be nearly deafening.

But we were in a house! Kind of. The building the creepy, smelly guy pointed us to was a half-built-under-construction weigh station. But it had walls and a roof …. And lots of sheet rock powder covering everything.

As the wind blew and rain pounded, we looked at each other and gave a sigh of relief to be dry.

Aaron disappeared for a minute then reappeared (he’s always doing that!), grabbing his waterbottles.

Excitedly, “Get your bottles and come with me!” There was a perfect place to catch the water running off the roof in back. Rain water never tasted so good. Storms should have a purpose, right? This one kept us hydrated.

As it starts to die down, Michael, the security guy protecting the large machinery, came over to say hello. It’s amazing the things that would get you at least a good yelling/cussing –at in the States that are perfectly acceptable here. Also in that category, the fact that Michael was just finishing up a 24-hour sift (is that legal? Here, yes, apparently!) He said that he and his partner had seen us run into the “house” but had said to themselves “Hakuna Matata” (which yes, means “no worries” like Timon and Pumba taught you in Lion King).

When we stopped it was mid-afternoon, but the rain was unrelenting. Disturbingly so, we could see a blue sky in the distance, but the storm was clouding and thundering overhead and increasingly so in the direction we needed to go. So, we stayed the night, in “our house”, waking the next morning to the construction workers arriving while it was still dark to start their day. With their blessing and well wishes for our journey, we set off into the sunrise, trying to rub away the sheet rock powder covering our clothes.

Constitutional hospitality

Tue, 19 Feb 2013 02:55:10 -0500

“If it is becoming night, and you are near a village, stop and ask for the head chairman. It is part of our constitution that he should give you a place to stay, probably in his home”

It has been custom in most places we’ve been, but apparently in Tanzania, it is also law to assist travelers along the way. It’s interesting to see the way that trickles down into everyone else as well. Especially in Tanzania, everyone likes to invite us to their home.

And sometimes they give us things. We were walking over a bridge and children were coming the other direction. They reached over and handed us alphabet cookies. I got a Z and a D. Aaron got 2 H’s.

Our friend Augustine is the one who told us about constitutional hospitality. He had us stay in his home, which is only two rooms. He gave us the bed, and he and his brother slept on the floor. Very humbling.

He had just moved to the area in the past year to become a farmer, after having graduated college and divorcing his wife.

As he hands 3 local kids buckets and 200 shilling pieces (worth about 8cents each) he talks about how he is worried about the future of his country and for the kids, most of whom in his village cannot afford to go to school.

The children return from the river with muddy buckets of water and the conversation changes to local water supply which is currently just the stream down the hill. People either drink the water as is, boil it, or buy bottled water. It is not easy.

Before we left the next day, we enjoyed tea with him and listened to a local radio program, mentioning among other things that a lady from New Zealand died from drinking too much Coke. Weird how worlds collide.

The most random day

Tue, 19 Feb 2013 02:47:47 -0500

So it was around 12:30/1pm, we were getting kind of hungry, it was getting pretty hot, and we’re in the middle of nowhere.

Then, off to the side of the road, a girl about my age, carrying a shovel, appears.

“Hello, my friend!” she says (everyone is “friend” even if they don’t know you).

“Hello, how are you?”

“Fine, and you?”

“I’m fine, thank you”

“You are welcome -

“Thank you”

and then she finishes her sentence, “to my home” and points off into the bush.

Slight awkward pause and hesitant, “oh, thank you” (this whole time I’ve still been walking slowly on my way), and then she says, “So when are you coming?”. Now I stop and turn around. Apparently she’s quite serious and not just being nice.

She continues, “The sun is hot, and I have soda.”

Well, who could refuse that? We need food too I suppose. Here goes!

We go to her house, meet her brother, sister in law, kids and join them in the living room where we watch a Korean soap opera dubbed in Swahili, drinking our Pepsi’s. After, we watch a Rihanna music video and eat a baked potato.

Now she speaks English, but not perfectly and I don’t speak Swahili, so there’s still a partial language barrier. She says something about “we must go” and we don’t know what’s going on but we follow her down to the cornfield where there is a well and she fills buckets for us to bathe, and brings us deeper into the cornfield so we might have privacy.

“What have you gotten us looped into this time?” was Aaron’s comment at this point.

Who knows?

After our cornfield bath, we sit around outside while they cook a “snack”. Aaron tries to juggle and the kids try to copy him. A drunk (on bamboo juice?) family member comes by to play his radio for us and scares the millipede Aaron is holding into pooping on his hands.
Dogs and chickens running everywhere.

We eat our snack and hold some baby chicks. The brother comes home from making charcoal and asks us questions (through a language barrier, but in a friendly manner) about “Is Osama really dead?” and “Why does America decide who has nuclear power?”

I wish I had an answer, sir.

We eat fried bananas dipped in salt and chili sauce, which is poured directly onto the table for convenience’s sake; with a side of honey glazed termites.

After it is dark, the brother asks Aaron to help him with something. 30 minutes later they return, and Aaron tells me,

“I followed him through the bush back to the main road. When we get there he starts flagging down cards with the light on his phone. A minute or two later a truck pulls over, at which time he shouts, “Follow me!” and sprints across the road into the woods. We come to a clearing with charcoal bags. Apparently I’m there to help him lift. I lift one of these bags (at least 100lbs and the size of me) onto his shoulder, and he runs back into the darkness. We do this four times, and then leave. Oh, and on the way there, he stepped on a centipede and it shot out glow in the dark blood.”

Next its time to eat rice and watch the Karate Kid and they lead us to this HUGE broken down house where there is a foam mattress for us to sleep on.

And I lay there wondering what the hell just happened.

A note on safety...

Tue, 19 Feb 2013 02:10:00 -0500

So a lot of people are concerned always about our safety here in Africa. I wanted to relay a story that was told to me by a friend. This is 100% true. Here’s what she said,

“I noticed upon my arrival at the police station that there was quite a commotion. I walked in and an officer came up to me, animatedly explaining, “We have arrested a murderer!” I gasped in shock, seeing as in my small Malawian town, the crime rate is quite low, and never had I heard about a murder taking place! What could this be?!?

“Do you want to see?” the police officer asked, and I certainly couldn’t refuse. He led me to a back room; as we grew closer I could hear shouting and loud bangs and booms. When he opened the door, I couldn’t believe my eyes when tied up in the middle of the room was a water monitor lizard, about 3 feet long. They were kicking it and beating it hard! “It killed a chicken!” they said.

And suddenly it all made sense, and I did the only thing I could do, laugh hysterically. :-)

Hope you get some sleep, Mom.

One year in

Sun, 03 Feb 2013 10:13:29 -0500

Well, we officially have been walking for one full year! Feb 2nd, 2012 we were hiking up and over Table Mountain in Cape Town, South Africa, bracing against the strong winds that threatened to throw us off.

And now we are looking at our last few days in Malawi, anticipating the cross into Tanzania, country #6 of 10.

It has been an amazing year, experiencing everything Africa has thrown our way. Although a significant challenge, still worth every step.

Our original plan was to finish this walk in approximately 2 years, and we are more or less on track for that to be a reality! So this means we are about halfway done with the walk in total! I remember being halfway done with our warm up walk in CA, being quite excited, and a friend of mine said, “before you know it, you’ll be saying you’re halfway across Africa!”. And although it seemed very far away at the time, that day has finally arrived.

Looking forward to another exciting year!

A night on the lake!

Sun, 03 Feb 2013 10:10:01 -0500

(written by Aaron!)

7pm: Sun falls behind the mountains and the waters grow calm.

8pm: All is dark, save for a few random candles around the village, and the crescent moon.

9pm: The boats are ready, but for our task we need complete darkness. So we wait.

10pm: The moon, too, falls behind the mountains. Magic hour. As we approach the lake, the men have already loaded three small canoes onto a larger motorized boat, and another larger canoe is lashed to the side.

11pm: We have raced deeper into the lake for more than an hour, and still we continue. As we travel, the men lash brilliant paraffin lamps to the front of the small canoes and reflectors aim the light downward into crystal turquoise waters.

11:15pm: The engine stops. Silently, one canoe is slid into the water - one light in utter darkness. Our boat moves on, several hundred yards, drops another canoe, and leaves. The final small canoe is set to make a large triangle pattern with the other two.

Midnight: We return close to our first canoe. Some men enter the large canoe in tow, carrying with them one end of a net more than a hundred yards long. Farther and farther our two boats spread, and the net falls into the glass abyss. Now we are coming back together, dragging the net in a semi-circle. It would appear that we were trying to snare the small canoe and lamp, but, at the last moment, he paddles aside. We look down into the depths, but the nets go deeper than even the light can. Gradually, the bottom of the net comes into focus as the men pull it in. A flicker of sliver. Shimmers of glitter in the deep, and suddenly the net breaches the surface. Thousands of minnows, known here as “ospia” (sp?) are cast into our boat - their combined flopping now sounds like a rainstorm! And then, as silently as we came, we leave.

1am-3am: We visit each of the three small canoes multiple times over the next few hours. Sometimes, we catch fish, and sometimes we don’t. The fish are drawn to the light, which is why we cannot fish with the moon. After several hours, it is time to collect the canoes and return home.

4am: Gliding back to shore. Exhausted. Tonight was not a good night, we used 20 liters of fuel and the money from our catch will not cover the cost. Some days, it is like this, and we are hungry. But some days, we are the kings of the world. Maybe tomorrow…

Interesting people we have met recently..

Sun, 03 Feb 2013 09:50:07 -0500

15-year old Jackson, who is the “official man of the house” as his father has lived in South Africa for more than 10 years. He has a six month old daughter, and is well known to his neighbors and they all respect him a lot. He cooked rice for us and we stayed at his house for a night. We slept in the living room, he created what reminded me of a childhood fort with mosquito nets and mattresses. He has called us several times to check-in still!

Met a man who wanted to be Aaron’s best friend! He ran a bar for fisherman. He has not been able to walk for sometime now. He had an old, torn apart copy of a history book talking about explorers in Africa and read to us from it. I think he has parts of it memorized. At one point, he mentioned to all the children around his house, and said, “Do you see these children? They are all mine. I have 3 wives, 16 children. I know what fornication is!” One of his wives fixed us lunch.

A boy named Ben, he was 8 or 9. He likes to play soccer and his team wins a lot. He also likes mathematics!

For miles before and after, we kept hearing about Charlie. Charlies is well-known and loved, living here but originally from the UK. He has been here for 15 years. We asked him what inspired him to move here, and he said, “I was visiting and told people I liked waterfalls, and then the chief gave me one!” He has since built a really cool looking lodge IN the waterfall in Ruarwe.

Dustin Gwinyani Kalua is a local village headman (chief). He likes to read American newspapers and magazines, and told us, “I know all about Bill Clinton and Monica Lewinsky - I have a Newsweek!” HE gave us a picture of himself to remember him by. We gave him a book.

Jo, Abby, Alex, Leona from a really cool organization called Temwa in Ussisya. Jo founded the organization and they are one of the most sustainable organizations I’ve seen in Africa. Really impressed.

Dani is a German woman who makes the most amazing Thai food.

Safari (yes that is his real name) who cooked us the most amazing food on a charcoal stove after we got back to the main road from being in the bush. Who knew eggs and beans and rice could be so good?!?!

Rain rain rain

Tue, 15 Jan 2013 10:25:10 -0500

Every time I think about what to blog about, it always comes back to rain. Because it’s always raining. I’m watching the lightning now as I’m writing this. Unfortunately for you, there’s not much to say about it. You know what rain is. Duh. It’s the same in Africa. Wet.
Mostly we try to avoid getting wet. I joked with Aaron the other day that our lives are like a spoof on duck duck goose, it’s walk walk dash here, dash under the closest roof you can find when the rain comes. You win the grand prize if you get a tin roof instead of a grass roof. Double your money if there is a place to sit that is not a muddy floor under said roof. See, isn’t it a fun game?

It does make for interesting people interactions because everyone else (except for the brave few or the smart umbrella holders) does the same thing. So it’s like one of those awkward mixing games where the point is for strangers to get to know one another. Try that version at your next staff retreat, tin roofs, grass roofs, walk walk dash!
The actuality of our ‘game’ is something I’m not sure would actually work in the United States. I can’t imagine walking somewhere, having it rain, running to some random person’s house or office or church and them actually letting me in every time. But here, it works. It’s expected. In our case, we find that people are often thanking US for coming to sit under their roof. Weird concept.

What else to say about the rain… Oh yeah, we are going SO SLOW! That’s the annoying part, we can only go so far depending on the rain. So when it’s like, “yeah that town is only 4 days away” and then its 4 days later and you’re still saying about the same place “yeah that town is only four days away”. Ugh.

But rain is a million times better than excruciating heat. Which considering it is summer. And we are only about 10 degrees from the Equator. So comparing what it would be otherwise, rain isn’t so bad.

Okay I’m done ranting about wetness. May your rainy days be filled with warm drinks and good music.