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Published: April 7th 2006
Kenyan School Girl
A young schoolgirl in the outskirts of Nairobi, KenyaBangkok to Nairobi
The task of getting to Kenya has been nothing less than difficult. My flight from Bangkok to Addis Ababa, Ethiopia was a trip within itself. The aircraft was jam-packed and not your usual trip as in the United States. I found myself captured within a fuselage of ethnicities from all points of Africa. Next to me sat a rotund gentleman from Tanzania, a lawyer and businessman. The flight left Bangkok just after midnight, but you wouldn't believe the activity during flight. There were those wandering up and down the aisles chatting with other passengers, and in the distance I could hear the music from MPG and CD players. Some even had their mini DVD players blasting movies with no regard to the comfort of others near them. I'll call it an airborne social hall for lack of a better term. And...I was the only white man on board. Not to say that this made me uncomfortable, because it never did, but it did enhance the feeling that this was no ordinary destination. I was in the midst of a multitude of cultures, most of which I was most ignorant and on my way to a land in the
Hamming it up for the camera
Kenyan boys play in the tall grasses outside Nairobi vast continent of Africa for which I have never experienced.
Arrival!
Finally in Nairobi in midday, my ride was nowhere to be found. I had lost my cell phone in a taxi in Bangkok just before my departure, so I had no way of calling my Nairobi contact. I stood at the arrival curb hoping that someone would hold up that little sign reading 'John Moretti', but it never happened. And like a lost child in Death Valley, I stood out like a sore thumb. I must have been approached a dozen times by taxi drivers and tour hawkers offering me a ride. My responses were generally to the tune of "I'm waiting for my friend to pick me up" and trying to fit in like a local. Yeah...right. After thirty minutes I found myself shoving my huge suitcase into the trunk of a car no bigger than a Volkswagen and then off to the guesthouse. During the 30-minute ride I was given a lesson on Kenyan politics and the fact that many tribes here don't like Americans nor do they like some white people in general. He was a kind driver and smiled a lot, but my uneasy
Trying To Keep AIDS At Bay
A box of condoms lay beside a bed at a local bar and 'sex' haven. feeling kept me agreeing with him in every respect, even if it didn't follow my own conventional wisdom. After 1,500 Kenyan shillings ($21) I made it to the guesthouse where I was greeted with big smiles, obliging porters and armed guards carrying fully automatic machine guns. This was Kenya and the ride has only begun.
Poking Around Nairobi
My purpose in Kenya is to join up with a small group of members of Airline Ambassadors International, a United Nations affilitated NGO from the United States. Our focus is to work with an orphange (Caroline Mungai Children's Home) just outside Nairobi. The rest of the team is to arrive in two days. In the meantime I met up with my friend, Travis Mitchell, whom has already arrived the night before, and we were escorted by George Manguru, our Kenyan host. George also had a visitor from the UK, Peter, a Kenyan, who is a childhood friend and now a doctor of neurology specializing in brain research. By his mere appearance I never would have guessed he had such an education, but perhaps I was ignorant to the fact that many Kenyans are quite capable of lifting themselves above the social
Kenya's Extra Large Bicycles
The people here are so tall that the bicycles have to match. stigma that all Kenyans are starving, pot-bellied babies. Well, he was pot-bellied, but his heart was even bigger. George and Peter were gracious hosts and drove me and Travis around to some of the most beautiful places I've seen. From the Rift Valley to the lucious and green National Parks of south-central Kenya. We spent two days in a small tin can of a car jotting around from one point to the other getting our fill of everything from small poor communities, natural parks, to our frequent and sudden stops on the side of the road to engage ourselves with the local children walking home from school. And every once in a while I'd turn to Travis and say "can you believe we're in Kenya, Africa?" His reply is mostly "I know. This is awesome."
The Obvious
The poverty here in Kenya is most apparent. I've had the gift of experiencing some very impoverished countries on this globe (Bolivia, Peru, Burma and Thailand among others) but Kenya had an aura that separated it from all the others. Never having been in a land where everyone was black made it even more distinguishable than other parts I've ventured into. Their
Economic Contrast
A wheelchair-bound woman in Nairobi begs from business suits passing by. facial features and wonderfully deep black eyes, unique African clothing and surrounding colors made it a living National Geographic magazine. Though the language is sometimes English (Swahili is spoken mostly) their accents kept me asking "sorry?" in hopes they would repeat themselves so I could understand. And they don't smile like I'm used to in Thailand. In fact, I find them quite reserved and keep to themselves. But its no mistake that they notice me as I walk the broken streets, dodging muddy puddles and taking in the smell of exhaust from passing automobiles. They stare at me like I'm a leper and my arm is about to fall off. But I realize that they are not really staring at me. They are simply observing someone that is so obviously different from them. My Nikon cameras around my neck; my clean North Face pants and shiney black Ray Bans wrapped around my eyes. I'm different and they let me know it by their curiosity in my appearance. I'm not uncomfortable by their curiosity, but I do find myself being a bit embarrassed. Tomorrow, I dress down.
My Day In Church
George Manguru, our host, is a pastor in a
Amazing Grace
If you could only hear the sounds of gospel music in this church in the heart of the poor district of Nairobi small community outside of Nairobi. He invited us to go to his church this past Sunday. Now, I'm not a religious man and my first response, in my mind anyway, was that I would stay at the guesthouse and that we could hook up later that afternoon. But for some reason I decided to go for the experience. He assured us that we could take as many photographs as we wished and not to feel uncomfortable as we were his 'brothers' and he wanted us to feel very much a part of Kenya. Upon our arrival, we were greeted by children that came out from a small structure made of currigated metal and timber. This is the church. And as I write this I get chills down my back and my eyes begin to well as I take myself back to the day I spent the morning in a small church in Nairobi. Both George and his friend, Peter, took turns at the pulpit, shouting the word of God into a microphone as the congregation broke into gospel songs that carry a harmony that only can be heard in Africa. It was a spiritual experience that nearly had me in
Curiosity in Church
A young girl and boy in church are infatuated with my cameras tears as I turned around and saw everyone singing, the harmoic sounds echoing off the shiney metal walls and filling the room with love that was thicker than the humidity of the Kenyan air. My camera shutter was on overtime and I kept thinking that I wasn't there; that this was a scene from The Color Purple. The experience was magnificently uplifting and spiritually mesmerizing. Even with my Buddhist medalion around my neck, I found myself rocking to the music and closing my eyes taking in the dusty smells, gospel music and feelings of a spirit that I cannot explain, nor try to.
The Reason For Coming To Africa
Today we visited the children at the orphanage, all that have come from the slums of Nairobi. A few are HIV positive, and one boy, Zachariah, age 5, has full-blown AIDS. The story of a 6-year-old girl that endured burns on her scalp from the actions of her mother that commited suicide while battling AIDS, trying unsuccessfully to take her daughter with her so she would not have to live alone after she was dead. Gut-wrenching stories for which I find hard to grasp. Stories of the reality of Kenya
Street Cobbler
The tools of a street cobbler and repairman and the AIDS epidemic. It is fact that two-thirds of those with AIDS worldwide come from Africa. Those that are left behind are often children lost within the deep and depressing slums, wandering the dusty streets in search of something familiar or perhaps just an extended hand to hold and hug them. But with so much intense poverty, its as though they have given up the will to help each other and to simply survive. A method of incredible atrition as the weak fall.
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johnnymoretti
Johnny Moretti
From The Author of this Blog
I received a comment by a man, Nelson, for whom I don't know. He was 'appalled' at my blog. From what I could gather from his comments, he was likely African, but I could not say from which country or of what ethnicity. I respect his feelings that, he writes "America is to blame for the exploitation of Africans during the slave trade" but I disagree that my blog is racist or in any way disrepectful to the African peoples. Nelson must understand that I was visiting a country that I had only envisioned from textbooks, magazines and television. My blog reflects both my visions of Africa and emotions it stirred. I might also remind Nelson that his comments were ignorant to who I am and why I traveled to Africa to begin with. His harsh language of "stupidity" and "racist" left me puzzled as to what it is that Nelson is feeling. Perhaps if he shared the same kindness, forgiveness and enlightenment I have experienced, he would see the world and those that present themselves humanely to others. I wish him peace and hope he finds his way. -Johnny Moretti