Today Is "Beatrice Project" Day

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You Gotta' Have Heart....

I’m up before the girls are and head down to breakfast to get an early start on the day. I tried to get through breakfast quickly, but to no avail. I asked for just the eggs this morning. “Yes”, he replied, and off he went to bring my cereal. The cereal arrived in due time and I insisted that only eggs and toast would do this morning. With a quick nod of the head, he headed off to prepare a morning coffee for me as well as a fruit dish, while I ate the cereal. “No fruit”, I insisted, only eggs. “Of course, Sir”, as he ambled off to prepare my cutlery. Eventually, after an hour, I was able to finish a complete breakfast, despite my attempts to alter the pattern of things.

I went down to the street level where the Matatus were lined up. I flagged down a porter and motioned for him to come, indicating with my hand the need for two porters. They brought their makeshift wheelbarrow along to the hotel grounds and loaded up all four suitcases that I had managed to lug out front. They packed up all 200 pounds of it onto their cart and away we went, one pulling and one pushing the cart. We went through the throngs of people walking in the early morning air. It was fresh out, and clear. The sun was already starting to impose its burden on the day even though it was only shortly after 7:00 am.

We arrived early at the school and they helped me unload it into the teacher’s lounge area and set them on the tables there. I paid them each 100 Shillings ($1.40) each. They each looked shocked to me, then broke into smiles and went quickly on their ways. I had just given them each enough to eat for the next 3 days. Josephine was there and I undid the locks on all suitcases and began to unpack them. She was delighted to unpack the 100 shirts donated by the Folkfest. Next, the computers, books, medical equipment and other equipment. The computers and medical supplies really took up most of the space so I think it felt a little anti-climactic compared to others visits we have made. We always like to bring something for the teachers and students individually each time. So our plan is to purchase those supplies here this time, instead of bringing it along with us.

Charles arrived, and then Heather and Jennifer. They’ve already mastered going through town on their own so they have a new-found independence. We find it is really quite safe walking through town on the main roads and paths. People always look at you first with what appears to be a frown or flat appearance. However, as soon as you smile at them, wave or say hello, they instantly break out into that welcoming Kenyan smile and you realize that they are as curious and confused about you as you are about them. Friendships are instantly formed, and conversations can be struck up easily if you are willing to initiate the encounter.

At the school, we gathered ourselves together for the day’s adventures. We have planned to do a “Beatrice Project” today and go around to the homes of ten of our orphan students and provide 1000 Shillings ($15-$20) to the guardian, grandmother or widow of that child. We set out on our journey armed with cameras, water and a lot of good intentions.

The trek was long. We made our way out to a few “close” homes first, stopping at one or two places along the way, and responding to many of the unusual encounters we had. The grandmothers are really living on the edge. Some have as many as 7 children living with them, subsisting on as little as about $30 to $50 per month. Start dividing that out, and you can begin to imagine what they face. After the first touching recovery with one of the grandmothers, we traced our way back along the trail we originally travelled. Along the way, a man described as a “drunkard” called out to us saying “Obama, Obama”, and then rattled off a continuous stream of rambling Swahili. Josephine translated for us that he was considering us as Americans and that as Obama as “our” President made us “brothers”. Therefore, a brother should help out another brother with a little financial support. Our new found friend followed us for a half kilometer as Charles provided back-up support and continual engagement, while we slowly inched ahead at a more rapid pace while Josephine translated the general ideas that were being broadcast back and forth behind them. Eventually, we turned around and our follower was gone with Charles close on our heels.

The afternoon was a combination of touching encounters, gut-wrenching meetings, and enlightened visits as we wound our way through the Kenyan countryside. Some highlights included gifts of 2 chickens, a reunion with a few grandmothers of previous encounters, and a chance to taste some “illicit brew” from two of the grandmothers who have perfected a technique that earns them barely enough to raise their grandchildren in an unforgiving economy. Can anyone say “Everclear”?

I think there are two encounters that were particularly special for me. One of our students - Eric - has been on my mind for a few years. I first encountered him two years ago and he had a very prominent facial expression, and stood out in the group. His favorite expression was “hello….hello…hello…hello…” to the point of annoyance. In Canada, that would be taken as a sign of rambunctiousness, and would most likely grate on the nerves of most people. But somehow, in his case, I always felt there was more behind his “presentation”. Well, today we got to meet his family. His mother and father live together in a very small mud hut with a thatched roof. They both suffer a mental illness of sorts, and are unable to earn a living for the boys. Eric and Nicolas (who is two years older and also attends our school), were the sole bread winners. Nicolas works as a porter in the village during the weekend, and must earn enough money in those two days to feed the entire family for the rest of the week. He then attends the school during the week and tries to get an education that will take him further in life. He was like one of the porters that I chased away on the first day we arrived in Bumala off the bus, and I now see the other side of life, and how these young boys are struggling so hard to make it possible to live. We met Eric’s grandmother too, who sat beside a second mud hut. She was totally blind but filled with the fire of life. She is an amazing person, who filled the yard with energy and enthusiasm. Maybe she inspires the boys to stay the course? Maybe she is simply an additional burden for the boys. As we left the yard I looked once more into Eric’s eyes and again felt another layer of my own simple-minded judgments torn away from my skin. How can we even begin to imagine the life that these kids experience everyday.

Another significant experience for me came when we came upon two sisters, Elisabeth and Lillian. Elisabeth is 10 years old, and attends our school. Lillian is 18 and attends the Secondary School beside us, and is in Grade 11. They have no parents, no guardians and no grandmothers tending to them. They live alone, in a small mud hut measuring 8’ X 8’. The roof leaks badly, and it rains almost daily now. Lillian has her eyes set on being a broadcaster. She seems smart enough to me, but very naïve. Nevertheless, she will be done school in less than a year and will be working toward moving on to get into college or university. That will leave little Elisabeth completely alone. Charles worries about her. We devise a plan on the spot to build a small home (a shack, really) made of tin sheets. This will allow us to keep the rain off of her head and provide a structure strong enough to install a strong locking door that will keep Elisabeth safe once Lillian is gone. I can’t believe how compassionate and long-ranged Charles is in his thinking. It is all quite overwhelming to me. Lillian simply says that God has come to her home today and blessed her. I wonder what that feels like,…to believe that God is literally smiling on you this day. We step outside back into the African sun and march onward to our next encounter…..

The day is long, and the girls are brave to keep up the pace. I can see that they are withering slightly under the hot African sun, but they keep up a brave face and trudge forward as if there is no problem. It is hard to complain when you have seen what we have.

The last stop of the day was at Charles and Veronica’s home. They treated us to a wonderful meal and incredible hospitality. It is still sinking into our mind that we are sitting in a mud hut in east central Africa eating a meal of beans, corn and chipati, and conversing with chickens and children in the evening sun.

The sun is getting close to setting and we make our way back toward the school. The light is low and incredible - a delight for any photographer. Heather and Jennifer head back to the hotel, while Charles and I finish up some more business at the school to end the day.

I make my way back to the hotel after a short while. The sun is really low now, and at the Equator it plunges rapidly below the horizon on its course around the belly of the planet. I make my way along the red clay road heading back to the hotel and, as I pass Beatrice’s house, I glance over. She is bent over at 90 degrees in front of her doorstep, washing some items in a low enamel pan. Sensing a presence, she stands and turns around to look, and sees me coming around the side of some columns holding up a nearby veranda. That magnificent smile of hers immediately lights up and she dashes forward to greet me. “Beatrice! How are you!?” I exclaim. “You remembered me?” she replies. We greet with a quick hug, but the familiarity of our now old friendship embraces us more fully and we exchang a heartfelt greeting with an assurance to meet up again in the coming days.

I went on my way and made it back to the hotel just as the last rays of light disappeared behind the storm clouds. I thought once more about Lillian and Elisabeth as the sky delivered torrents of rain and I dipped into the concrete shelter of my destination. Why do we live like this in the world……

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