An independant project

Hi all,

Hope everyone is enjoying their March Break. Yesterday changed me....

If you read the post-script at the bottom of the last blog, you'll see me mention to my mother's Grade 6 class that I would travel to Mwakirunge to talk to the principal there. For everyone who is not part of that class, here is the background on why I traveled so far out of Mombasa.

A few months ago, my mother expressed the desire to send assistance to Africa by having her Grade 6 class fund-raise money for a specific area. She got into contact with Emmy, my project director, who mentioned a secondary school outside of Mombasa in a place called Mwakirunge which was in desperate need of aid. Over the following month or so, this class raised $400 CAN, which is the equivalent of 30000 Ksh, to give to this school. I suggested that she not simply hand over the money to the school, since this is Kenya and who knows what would happen to it, but hand the responsibility of delivering the support myself once I was in country. My plan was to go to the school, talk to the principal about what supplies he needed most, then I would take the money and deliver it to the school personally.

Mwakirunge itself, for your information, is the location of Mombasa's garbage dump, and though the Kenyan government promised a trash-processing plant that would provide the small community with 300 jobs, they didn't come through (surprise surprise) and the garbage is unceremoniously collected, transported, and dumped in a giant pit in the middle of the village. As a result the area has many health issues, experiences high poverty, as well as a growing crime rate.

Yesterday I called Mike Kalu (who I've been calling African Mike on this blog) and asked him to guide me in getting to Mwakirunge. We hopped on some local transportation and away we went through backroads heading outside of the city. It felt great to leave the city once we were past civilization, and the red earth, rolling hills, and palm trees made for a tranquil setting. For 20 minutes we carried on, going up and down the hills on the dirt roads. I was content to sit and watch the scenery past. This, I thought, was true Africa.

Then I smelled it. Not just the typical garbage smell, but a sick acid smell caused by burning chemicals that filled my nostrils and seemed to fill up my insides until I was sick to my stomach. Although I knew what it was, I looked around for the source. There was nothing that had changed, the perfect countryside was still perfect. Then we crested a hill. Let me tell you, I have seen poverty over the last 4 months, but this was on a completely different level.

The first thing I saw was a hut. I don't know if I would even call it that, it was simply 4 thin wooden poles, attached to it them were pieces of cardboard, plastic, and remnants of potato sacks. The roof was a sagging, sopping wet blanket that was heavy and dark from earlier rainfall. Then I looked up the road. There was another hut, and another, and one after that. We turned a corner, and suddenly below me was a pit 100m deep full of garbage. I saw people walking on top of it all, occasionally bending down to pick up an object which they put in a bag, then kept moving. Smoke was pouring out of the pit and filling the air with black clouds from the small fires spread out within. On the slopes were hundreds more huts made of whatever people could scrap from the bottom. I wanted to look away, but could not force myself. Then, in the middle of it all, was a small child, not more than 3 years old, staring at me with large, innocent eyes. He was fascinated with me, probably having never seen a white person before. He has to witness every day the results of bad governace and corruption that results from greedy politicians who change election votes to maintain power.

We did not stop there. Instead Mike and I continued down the dusty African road away from the dump site, where the scenery changed again to one of beauty and rolling hills. Five minutes later we turned off this and we dismounted at the Mwakirunge Secondary School. It consisted of 2 one-story buildings facing each other, In one building was the administrative offices, and the other held the classrooms. Both of us walked in to the office building, and Mike introduced me to the principal of this small school (Kwacha Afrika had worked with this school in the past, so they knew each other). I shook his hand, introduced himself as Mr. Yaa, and we sat down to talk. I told him that I had $400CAN, or 30000Ksh donated by the Grade 6 class of Vincent Massey Elementary School to supply his students with supplies of any type, whether it be desks, chairs, paper, notebooks, lockers, anything. He replied that desks and chairs would be best, since a few students had to stand in certain classes or carry their chairs between subjects (which I later witnessed when the bell rang). I agreed that this would be done, and that I already had transportation arranged. I think he was in shock, since for a while he did not say anything, then got up and enthusiastically shook my hand, said I was a blessing from God, and began to take me on a tour of the school. As soon as we stepped outside it began to rain, which reinforced his belief that I was a blessing (in Africa, when a gesture of goodwill occurs and is immediately followed by rainfall, it means that it was God's will). I said I was just the messenger, thank the people back home.

The school itself was established in 2007, and had been receiving assistance from a Kenyan NGO called Actionaid. It is the only Secondary School in the area, and many kids have to walk for an hour to reach there. It has 200 students from the ages of 14-18 (most of whom were male), around 5 or 6 teachers, and a secretary. The principal himself looked deeply committed to his school and providing opportunities for his fledgling school, and I thought Mwakirunge is lucky to have him in charge. As I was visiting, they were installing the electric wiring and digging a pit for new latrines.

Mr. Yaa explained to me that most youth from Mwakirunge do not attend school past the primary level, and instead join others to scavenge in the garbage pit of Mwakirunge. He described the clouds of black smoke that sometimes cover the entire countryside for miles around, today was a good day because of the rain, he said. I then realized it was imperative that this school continue being funded or assisted by any means possible if there was going to be any future for the youth of this small community. I then went around and met each of the Grades, or Forms as they are called here, introduced myself, took their picture, and continued to the next room.

Unfortunately, Mike had a meeting in town in the afternoon, so we had to leave. After taking the school's email and phone, I shook hands with Mr. Yaa and left. On our way back we passed a garbage truck struggling up a hill loaded to the brim with more trash destined for Mwakirunge.

When I next visit Mwakirunge I am getting out with Mike and taking pictures of the scene so that everyone can see the damage that the Kenyan government has done to this peaceful village on the outskirts of Mombasa. The trip left me outraged, but also with a strong desire to help these people living in desperate poverty.

Today before writing this I received an email from Mr. Yaa. It reads:

"On behalf of all the teachers, students and the entire school community thanks so much for your vising our school and offering to donate some lockers and chairs to our school. You are surely God sent. May my God bless you so much mupaka ushangae. We are praying for you to be successful in all that you put your hand on to do. Regards to all. WELCOME."