It's Called Shutdown

Well, I was supposed to be spending this weekend near Mt. Kenya, visiting with the sheep grandmothers and going to the chimpanzee center, but during the night on Friday, my body absolutely rebelled...chills and fever (very low-grade) alternated with sweating. Add the vivid dreams and by morning, I was completely wiped out and could barely drag myself out of bed. Made the decision (in consultation with my  body which was shrieking, REST! REST! REST!) to forego the trip, which would have involved a good deal of driving both days and, instead, stay at the Wildebeest.

What is the saying about the best-laid plans? Seems the Wildebeest was completely booked for Saturday night and so, after the sweet receptionist made a call for me, I landed at the Fairview Hotel nearer downtown Nairobi. It turned out to be a lovely place where I slept, blogged, ate a little, took a short walk late in the afternoon, and then slept some more. This morning, there was a delicious breakfast buffet downstairs in the atrium (included in the room rate), and later, Charlie-the-taxi-driver, will pick me up and return me to the Wildebeest for at least the next 2 nights. Have you followed all this? The saying here when things happen in unexpected ways is TIA- "This Is Africa".

What I've been finding is that as much as I enjoy going the simpler, cheaper route, staying in hostels and camps, my aging body periodically rebels and demands a bit of comfort. Makes me feel totally spoiled...after all, the people we're meeting and working with have no such options. And many of the grandmothers are around my age...some older...with huge burdens of responsibility. Philosophically, the question arises: why is each of us in the particular life situation in which we find ourselves? Me, born in the U.S. admittedly to hard-working first-generation citizens who struggled all their lives to give my sisters and me a life better than theirs...and the women here, born to hard-working parents who also struggled to give them a better life- but in very different terms and circumstances. And now, because of the AIDS pandemic on this continent, many are left in their fifties, sixties, seventies, caring for their orphaned grandchildren, struggling to give them a better life.

The struggle is etched on their faces...your sisters and mine. And answers are not forth-coming- at least not for this intrepid traveler on this Sunday morning in Nairobi, Kenya.

Reflections from the Masaai Mara

The Masaai Mara was nothing short of amazing! There from Wednesday afternoon until Friday afternoon...took four game drives, saw a Masaai warrior dance, ate amazing meals, and slept in a beautiful "tent"- without a doubt the most luxurious accomodations I have ever experienced: handmade chocolates on the pillow, turn-down service AND a hot-water bottle each evening, a queen-size bed all to myself. I can only say WOW! Add to this seeing zebras, wildebeests, giraffes, lions, impalas, Thompson's gazelles, warthogs, meerkats, African foxes, crocodiles, hippos, vultures, ostriches, and countless unnamed antelope varieties and unidentified birds- all in the wild- and my cup was truly running over.

Took innumerable photos and had some time (believe it or not) to do some reflection and writing. Perhaps later, after I'm home, some time has passed, and all of this has soaked in, I'll write some more about it all, but for now, the best I can do is to share my writigs- as well as a few photos. Amani and kwaherini from Nairobi.

The Masaai Mara

The many shades of brown

soothe the eye, surround the

heart with welcome and

deep peace. Who could have known

that brown could be so varied,

so beautiful, so inviting to the soul,

as the wide expanse of grassland

leading to the distant hills

brings me to unexpected tears,

eliciting a sense of open-mouthed amazement.

Along the dusty, rutted road, the sight

of herds of zebras, gazelles, and

wildebeests stops my heart

again and again.

Masaai herdsmen and their flocks add

to my sense of other-worldly wonder,

while the women in their brilliant garb

appear like Miro-spots of color

on the otherwise monochromatic canvas.

Who would have known that the

sight of a distant herd of elephants

or a mother zebra and her colt

would bring a lump to my throat?

For, somehow, this feels like "home"-

though I have never been here

in this life...the open spaces

holy places from which I draw deep peace,

the sense of Divine Presence

very near...

this IS Africa.

WHY?

Why am I here?

What has brought me to this land of

startling contrasts?

of abject, relentless poverty and

startling modern opulence...

of women wrapped in colorful native cloth

bearing burdens on their heads,

and those in business power suits and

high heels, bearing briefcases in their hands...

of barefoot children dressed in castoff cothes

begging on street corners, and others wearing

shoes and spotless uniforms riding private buses

to private schools...

of trash-filled walking paths, awash with plastic

bags and strewn with refuse, and pristine

hotel gardens abloom with flowers relentlessly

tended...

of dusty, rutted rural roads filled with bicycles

and trudging pedestrians, and street-clogging

vehicles of every description filling city streets...

of local markets filled with wooden stalls set

amidst dirt paths and piled high with local

produce and used shoes, and shining modern

supermarts filled with everything one could

desire or need...

of grandmothers in the slums raising

grandchildren on mere shillings per day, and

young professionals ending their day at a

local pub, the tab as high as one month's

wages for the poor...

What am I doing here?

And when I return to my "real" life,

in whose voice shall I speak? Whose

story should I tell?

      And will anybody listen?

                          I wonder...