Tami Moves Outdoors (Please Piss Nicely)

Katie, Jenn and Tami at Macheme Gate before the climb

When Tami first arrived in Kenya, she confessed something to me while unpacking her amazing mountain climbing gear for Mt. Kilimanjaro. "So, I'm really not that out-doorsy." At first I thought she was kidding but when she convinced me that she wasn't, my jaw fell open. Not out-doorsy? This girl had half of REI in that black duffle bag of hers, how could she not be out-doorsy? "Most of this stuff is borrowed," Tami explained, "the backpack, the sleeping bag, the rain pants, the rain jacket, the gaiters..." While Tami may not be out-doorsy herself, she has a lot of generous friends who are. I nervously considered my now pathetic looking pile of Kilimanjaro gear, some dating all the back from the Clearwater Camp for Girls days of my youth, and the only borrowed item, a sleeping bag that my dad used in the Rockies in the 1970's. I consider myself pretty out-doorsy, but my gear needs a serious facelift.

Katie was just as surprised as I was to learn that Tami wasn't an out-doorsy person. I think that we just both assumed that she was because, personality-wise, she fit the bill. Both Katie and I grew up going to summer camp: hiking, canoeing, cooking over fires, sleeping in tents and, of course, peeing in the woods. We both decided that we'd much rather take care of business in the bush than use a latrine but we forgot one important detail: above a certain altitude (about 3000 meters) there isn't a bush because without enough oxygen, plants don't grow! Some nights our campsite was remote enough that Katie and I would find a big boulder to go behind. Otherwise we were forced to use the lovely latrines provided by Tanzanian National Parks. The latrines were small wooden sheds, usually without a door, and, because they were built on the side of a mountain, uneven flooring. Latrines were clearly marked either "Porter Toilet" or "Tourist Toilet," though I'm glad to report that segregation is dead on Kilimanjaro and Porters and Tourists felt free to use whichever toilet gave off the least amount of stink. Though the most challenging part of the latrines (better known to us as the "Shit Shacks") were the small holes in the ground, obviously designed with the better aiming male anatomy in mind. So, combine the construction with the slanted floor, the high altitude with a lack of oxygen, multiple layers of clothing, suggested water intake of 4-5 liters per day, the small target and, of course, the sometimes beyond putrid smell and you've got jokes for the entire trip. So much for peeing in the bush!

The PLEASE PISS NICELY shit shack

While all of the Shit Shacks are memorable, there were two in particular that the three of us will surely never forget. At Karanga Camp the floor of the Shack was so slanted and the target so small that there was, understandably, a yellow puddle in one corner. I was the first of the three to venture into that one and, while trying to get my footing, I noticed some pretty distinct graffiti on the wall: PLEASE PISS NICELY was written in black Sharpie right next to the yellow puddle. I don't know if it was the situation or the oxygen depravation or the exhaustion or what, but this Sharpied request got me laughing so hard that I missed the target completely and doubled the size of the yellow puddle. The day had been wet and cold and our campsite was currently in a cloud so, shivering, I made my way back to the tent and told the other two to go use the Shit Shack. High altitude and lack of oxygen (blame it on the a-a-a-a-a-a-altitude!) made this whole scenario funnier to the three of us than it probably actually was, but memorable nonetheless. (Though, seriously, who goes to the trouble of writing graffiti in a a latrine on Mt. Kilimanjaro?)

Barafu Shit Shacks, and the edge of a windy cliff

The next night at Barafu Camp (Base Camp) the Shit Shacks presented a whole new challenge. At first we were excited - these actually had doors on them and seemed better constructed than the ones further down the mountain! But, as Katie soon discovered, looks aren't everything. The Barafu Shit Shacks were built on the side of a very windy cliff and whoever designed these pristine mountain bathrooms did not take ventilation into account. Soon after arriving at camp Katie came out of the Shit Shack laughing. Basically, anything that you try to put down the hole blows right back up. I opened the door to one of the "toilets" and found dirty tissues sticking to the urine covered ground. Fantastic. There was literally a wind tunnel coming up through the small hole in the ground and creating a dirty tissue tornado. In order to discard of you tissue, you had to stick your arm down the hole and let go, otherwise it would blow back up at you, most likely hitting you in the face. Being the positive girls that we are, we took this as fresh comedic material and referenced the insanity of it for the remainder of the trip.

Katie models the Barafu Shit Shacks

Between the Shit Shacks, the cold/wet weather, the insanity of summit day and amazingness of the entire experience, Katie and I have decided that Tami has more than earned her out-doorsy badge. While Katie and I had years of past camping experience to fall back on, Tami basically jumped straight into the deep end of hard-coreness and, by God, she swam!

The Roof of Africa

Summit day really deserves its own post, seeing as it was the longest, hardest, most exhausting yet most rewarding day of the whole experience. We left Barafu Camp at 4600 meters in the middle of the night and hiked for about 7 hours to Uhuru Peak - the highest point in Africa at 5895 meters. I'm thrilled to report that all three of us successfully made it to the summit despite headaches, extreme cold, wind, frozen water and frost. The last couple hours of the trek was more of a psychological struggle than a physical. It took all of the energy and determination that I had just to put one foot in front of the other, and the final stretch from Stella Point to Uhuru Peak seemed like one big mind game.

But what a world awaited us at the top! Hiking in the dark, we weren't able to see the top of the mountain until we were actually there. The sun rose to reveal massive glaciers, the crater that looked as if it were another planet, the bluest of blue skies and the adrenaline-pumped faces of my friends. Reaching the summit gave me a surge of excitement - a completely natural high that pumped me up and gave me the energy to enjoy my 15 minutes on the top of Africa.

Kilimanjaro: Life Above the Clouds

For some reason I've been waiting to post about my time on Kilimanjaro, probably because there is just so much to write about! Katie, Tami and I headed from Nairobi to Arusha, Tanzania on October 18th and on the 19th started a week-long trek up the mountain. After lots of research and talking to past climbers, we decided upon the 7 day Macheme. Macheme, also known as the Whiskey Route, can be done in 6 days, but it was worth it to us to pay for one extra day and give ourselves a greater chance of reaching the summit. I have no regrets about this decision! The Macheme trail is revered as being possibly the most beautiful route up the mountain and is specifically designed to help climbers better adjust to the high altitude.

It was a difficult but doable climb and although there are no technical areas, I think that we were all grateful to have trekking poles to assist in certain spots. In order to help climbers avoid altitude sickness, Macheme goes up and down a lot. Other than the first day which was straight up and the last day which was straight down, all of the middle days would send us up for most of the trek, then back down a bit so that we could camp at a lower altitude. While going down seemed counterproductive after working so hard to go up, this method is what kept the three of us strong and healthy.

Pole pole means "slowly" in Kiswahili and it became the mantra for most of the climb. If you climb too fast, your body gets too deprived of oxygen and you get sick. It's a bit of the old "slow and steady wins the race" mentality and while at the beginning of the climb I got a bit frustrated that I couldn't go faster by the end I was grateful that my guides, Stanley and Hussein, held me back and kept me going pole pole. At a certain altitude, I couldn't have gone faster, even if I'd wanted to!

Most of our trek was literally in the clouds. While trekking, we could rarely see too far in front of us and while it really only rained once, clouds are wet and cold and we'd reach our campsite at the end of the day chilled. It's crazy, getting to a campsite on a mountain and hardly being able to see a couple of feet in front of you. But at least once a day the clouds would roll away and we would find ourselves surrounded by beauty long enough to soak it in and snap a couple of photos. Then, as quickly as they left, the clouds would move back in and once again envelop the entire campsite in mystery.

Day 1: 18 km from Macheme Gate (1830 meters) to Macheme Camp (3100 meters)

Day 2: 9 km from Macheme Camp (3100 meters) to Shira Camp (3840 meters)

Day 3: 15 km from Shira Camp (3840 meters) to Lava Tower (4630 meters) to Barranco Camp (3860 meters)

Day 4: 7 km from Barranco Camp (3860 meters) to Karanga Camp (4200 meters)

Day 5: 6 km from Karanga Camp (4200 meters) to Barafu Camp (4600 meters)

Day 6: 36 km from Barafu Camp (4600 meters) to Uhuru Peak (5895 meters) to Mweka Camp (3100 meters)

Day 7: 15 km from Mweka Camp (3100 meters) to Moshi (1830 meters)

Don't Forget the Chicks!

I've received reports from Irene who visited Mbaruku last week that the chicks are doing well and growing quickly! There are now 201 chicks and the bigger they get, the more they eat! It was our agreement with the Mbaruku chairman and committee at the the beginning of this project that we would pay for care of the chicks (vaccinations, food, bedding, etc.) for the first four months until the project starts to turn a profit. That means that until the beginning of February, we are supporting the project through Irene from Chicago. We would love any assistance we can get - it will cost roughly $250 a month to care for the chicks until they are old enough to lay eggs or be sold for meat. Any donations made through this blog (Paypal button on the right) between now and the beginning of February will be used to care for the Kuku at Mbaruku. Thank you, again, for your continued help and support in this project!

In Your Own Backyard...

Sometimes the most beautiful scenes are found in your own backyard. My mom and I enjoyed this sunset last week, on the first evening of daylight savings. Whether oaks or acacias, I love me some trees silhouetted against a sunset sky.

Mbaruku's Day of Health

Setting up for the medical camp

Organizing a medical camp is something that we all wanted to do before we left, and I'm delighted to report that it happened - barely! It took a while to get the funds together and for a while it looked like it just wasn't possible but the Irish saved the day! Volunteers from Dublin, Niamh, Amy and Helen, had met the Dust Babies a week earlier and sponsored the construction of 30 desks in the school house as well as a months worth of water in the water tanks and graciously offered to help sponsor the medical camp. So Irene and I threw it into high gear, traveling to Naivasha on a Thursday evening to petition a medical camp for the very next day. Fortunately the Minister of Health admired our ambition and helped us not only staff the camp but supplied immunizations, family planning materials, ARV's and de-wormers.

A happy mother waits for her baby to be vaccinated

We all, including Katie who had flown in only hours earlier, left a rainy Nairobi early Friday morning and made our way to Mbaruku. Katie, Dre and I were dropped at the camp to play with the kids and check on the chicken project while Irene, Tami, Niamh, Amy and Helen continued on to Nakuru where they purchased the drugs and medical supplies wholesale. The drugs were then dropped back at the camp and we set things up while the van drove 30 minutes in the other direction to pick up the staff and equipment from Naivasha. Finally, around 3pm, the camp was open for business, and business it did get! A queue had been forming from around noon of Sunday-dressed dust mamas, bwanas and, of course, babies, all extremely grateful for the camp and taking full advantage of the free treatment.

Most Dust Babies were given large bags of nutritional

supplements to be mixed in with their food

Then something happened at Mbaruku that I had never seen before: it rained. And rained. And rained. Dust babies became mud babies, windblown tents became leaky tarps, pots and pans were put out to collect the water and there was an overall rejoicing and sense of relief from the adults. To Kenyans, rain equals life. Despite the fact that their tents can hardly stand and several will not survive another rainy season the end of the draught was happily met.

Families were given free prescriptions and preventative medicines

In the end, every resident of Mbaruku IDP camp was examined and treated, though the last several patients needed to be examined by lantern light. There were enough drugs and supplies left over for a second medical camp that was organized at a similar IDP camp the following week. It was a perfect end to my volunteer time in Kenya, sitting in the dark at Mbaruku, sipping hot chai with Irene and my fellow volunteers, knowing that having met the Dust Babies, none of us would ever be the same.

Kibera Goodbyes

October 14th was our last day at Jamii School in Kibera and Tami and I decided to celebrate by breaking out the last of the face paint. As I mentioned in a previous post, face paint is always a good idea! It was a fun day in Kibera - the recent outbreak of chicken pox had subsided, Obama, a little boy who had measles, was back in school and his old, playful self and the rain was held at bay for one final day.

Sisters Peris and Euphinia

I miss the kids at Jamii, but I feel okay about leaving them. In 2007 when I left Mary's school things were so uncertain and there was such animosity between the director of the project and the teachers and it was difficult to leave those kids, not knowing exactly what would happen. But the kids at Jamii are in good hands. The teachers and the director are all happy and really look out for the well-being of the kids at the school. The feeding program, though somewhat sporadic, is in place and the Jamii International Organization helps fund specific projects. Jamii was the perfect placement for me on this trip, and I hope to visit again someday.

A healthy Obama

Tracy

Tami, the artistic one, handled the face painting

Jamii School in Kibera

Safari Jenn and Teresia

Gifts for Good

Since this was my second time in Kenya, I didn't want to come home with lots of little souvenirs for friends and family - hundreds of dollars and Maasai beads, mass produced wood carvings, copied paintings and the like. Instead, I decided to support community projects by purchasing gifts from hardworking Kenyan women. I was delighted to find two such projects, Kazuri beads and the necklace project at Pipeline IDP camp.

Women at Kazuri Bead factory roll clay into beads

Kazuri beads has been around for over 30 years and I purchased a couple of items from them the first time I was in Kenya. Kazuri is Kiswahili for something small and beautiful which is the perfect description for the hand made ceramic beads crafted by the 300 and some destitute women who work at the factory. The process is a detailed one! The beads are rolled from clay found near Mt. Kenya into specific shapes and sizes, hand painted, fired multiple times, glazed and strung all done by hand at the Kazuri factory in Karen. Visitors are welcomed to tour the factory (Tami, Bridget and I visited in mid-October for the grand tour) and to learn more of the history of the project. Absolutely beautiful work, and designed by struggling Kenyan single mothers.

Stringing beads at Kazuri

Kazuri Beads

Custom made wall hangings at Kazuri Beads

The necklaces made at Pipeline IDP camp are, believe it or not, rolled from old magazines! The women roll the strips of magazine tightly, lacquer them and string them along with other glass beads on fishing wire. This project was started by a handful of female Pipeline residents several months ago in order to help make an income for their struggling families. I've said this time and time again: African women are some of the strongest people in the world.

Beads rolled from magazines and made by women at Pipeline

Irene sent me back to the US with over 100 Pipeline necklaces to pass along to a former visitor who has found an outlet to sell them in the US in order to raise money for the project. I believe she is selling them for $10 each, and they would make great holiday gifts! I will post as soon as I have more information about this.

Heather models her Pipeline necklaces

A proud craftswoman showcases her product

Playing Catch Up

Before I say anything else, let me first report that I am home. It's a perfect fall day in Chicago - the Bears are winning, the sun is shinning and the leaves are all of the colors that I love. Throwing the tennis ball for Essie this morning, I thought about how lucky I am to experience a little taste of fall, my favorite season of the year, especially when I was sure that I would miss it altogether this year. Thank you, Global Warming, for throwing off the seasons!

I have a long list in front of me of blogs I intend to write in the next couple of days to catch everyone up on the exciting end of my two months in Africa, so stay tuned. Lots of photos to accompany the posts and, probably, a sort of reflective feel. I already feel so far away from Kenya and all of my friends there. Far from the Dust Babies, the kids in Kibera, Irene, Bridget, George, Annie and all of the others. But it's comforting to know that in this great big world, they are still only an email away.

So keep checking back! Now that I don't have to pay for internet (well, not by the minute anyway) the posts are bound to be a bit more spread out. This week is meant for catch up!