Part II of the Final Day - 2 June 2007

Stop two – 9:55 am
There have been many bumps, potholes, even craters along the way. There have been doubts and plain misbelieve. Yet, my friends, the tower is up! Well, almost. The 3ft by 3ft structure and the columns to the inner tower that protrude out an extra 5 feet are erected. We’re on our last stretch, the air is light and the built up stress from the project seems to have lifted on our final trip to Margaret’s.

Of course, we make our routine stop at Olary to pick up some of the volunteers. But today is different. Today we aren’t just picking up Elizabeth and Gori and whomever else, instead, there is a heartfelt purpose. I don’t remember the orphan’s name, but I remember his story and I remember what happened on this particular day. And the story needs to be told:

Jason and the boy:

No one knows the exact age of when this boy came to be an orphan, but it was somewhere around the age of 3 or 4. He’s about 9 or 10 now. The people of the village, who also have next to nothing, have taken it upon themselves to help him out. Even Margaret, who is not from this village, gives the boy some change or food on her visits.

On this particular day, Jason got off the bus with a new t-shirt for the boy. As Jason approached, the boy retreated behind one of the nearby woman. Jason tried to give him the new shirt, but the boy didn’t know how to react to this strange mzungo giving something specifically to him. So the woman took the shirt and said she would give it to the boy. Jason returned to the bus and waited. Once Jason was clearly away from the scene, the boy placed his hands at the bottom corners of his own shirt to examine it. The worn in, mud stained shirt may have been white – once upon a time. This was probably the only shirt the boy owned-it certainly looked about 100 years old and clearly had never been washed. The woman stepped forward and helped him take off the rag and replaced it with his new, bleach white shirt. Ok, it was a little big, but the boy didn’t even notice. Any anticipation he might have felt instantly melted away and was replaced with the most magnificent smile I’ve ever seen. The look of pride on his face would bring a knot to anyone’s throat that was witnessing, and it did. Jason’s face lit up as well and he carefully got back off the bus and approached the boy again. This time, he did not run away, instead he shyly walked up to Jason and put out his hand. Jason shook it firmly and smiled. Only a smile and a nod came from the boy, but that was all that was needed. His gratitude was written from ear to ear.

As this point I lifted my eyes off the two for the first time to see that everyone in the immediate area had stopped what they were doing and were smiling just as wide at the boy. In turn, everyone approached the boy to congratulate him with a high-five, a pat on the back, and genuine praise. The boy then took off around the square, tugging at his new shirt so that everyone could see. His feet never touch the ground as he glided through the village. I can not say enough to describe the beauty of this scene, and I doubt a single person reading this blog has, no matter how excited you have ever been over a gift, has ever felt the way that boy did at the moment – over a t-shirt. This boy re-defined gratitude, and I can only pray that one day I can feel that happy about something.

2 June 2007

View from the top of the tower-- amazing, eh?

Morgan and Davies putting the windmill on the tower

“Tower is up!”

Part I of the Final Day
At promptly 7am we all met for breakfast, as usual. Just toast and a bit of pineapple today—best not risk filling my system with too much this early on, this is too big of a day to gamble with my digestive tract.

We told Linos to pick us up at 7:30; which is why we planned for 8:00, so you can imagine our surprise when the bus pulled in at 7:30 on the nose.

Jason busted out the football he had brought over for the local kids, and so Alex, Jason and I tossed it around the front lawn while waiting for the others to finish getting ready. Not that I am any good at tossing a football, but it was nice feeling to just be a bunch of 20 some year old folks again rather than 20 some year old folks that are 1000’s of miles from home, in an impoverished country, building a windmill by hand merely to charge 12V batteries.

Finally, we all pack on the bus and head to Homabay for some very last minute hole drilling before we go to site for the last time. Prior to reaching the welding shop, the bus stops early to drop Khanjan, Alex and Mark off so they can do electrical/wiring stuff. Mr. Masango hops off to get his daily paper. Mr. Masango opens the door, and begins to step onto the bus but before he can even put his foot on the step, the bus lurches forward. Linos takes off, leaving Mr. Masango, in his suit and tie, wide eyed and jaw dropped to the dirt road. No one on the bus could control their laughter while Linos has absolutely no idea what he just did. (You may not be lauging and can’t figure out why this was so funny. I guess it’s more of an inside joke. You need to understand how “proper” Mr. Masango presented himself, and the fact that it was him Linos left in the dust, made the entire scene an absolute delight!) It was going to be a good day…

Tower goes up!

Alex directing Jason and Duan constructing the first section

Up...

Up...

Keep it coming...

Today is a Saturday which means no school, so the crowd is bigger than ever.

It takes two days to get the tower up. We start from the bottom (obviously) and build section by section. Once the first section was up, Jason climbed onto the horizontal bracing that would be the bottom of the second section, Duan took his spot on the first section and we carried on. The chain reaction continued until Jason was on the top (fourth) section, Duan on the next, then Alex, then Mark. I offered my assistance from the ground. I’m scared of heights, leave me alone.

Piece by piece, the steel angles came together.

About mid afternoon on the first day, young Elizabeth came up with hard boil eggs and salt for a lunch (and warm soda, of course). Eggs have never tasted so good. No one had the energy to climb down either, so we tossed the eggs up 30 ft to Jason and Duan at the top. Then Khanjan felt confident and gave the salt shaker a go. The end result: a shattered saltshaker that belonged to a family who lived off a $1 a day; whose wall clock had probably said 10:37 for years since they didn’t even have money to purchase AA batteries. Who woulda thought one could feel so much guilt over a saltshaker.

As I might have explained before, the tower was 3’ x 3’ with an 18” x 18” smaller tower protruding out (see photos). We worked until it was nearly dark again, and the clouds for the 630 showers started rolling in. None of us want to quit, as the tower finally had substance, the adrenaline of it all was stronger than ever. However, standing on a 30ft metal tower, in the middle of nowhere, on top of the highest hill didn’t sound like the smartest idea when lightning and thunder was nearing by the second.

By the time we had our dinner it was pitch black and the first drops of the evening rains were beginning to fall. A whole lot of good my raincoat did sitting back at the hotel! Needless to say, the long walk back to the bus was muddy and drenching, but it was a beautiful evening and the day felt like our first TRULY successful day, so I don’t think anyone minded the walk. If anything, we all welcomed the cool summer shower, washing away a hard day’s sweat.

There must have been at least 20 children ranging from 2 to 13 by the end of the day. Therefore, our usual handful of handful of children that followed us back to the bus and chased it down the road for almost a mile, we had over a dozen. And just like in any group, there’s always that one that just won’t give up. In this case, it was a young boy of probably 8 or 9, and was determined to stay with the bus as long as far as he could muster. And I mean, quite literally STAY with the bus.

That boy grabbed onto the rim above the tire, raised his knees to his chest and held on for the ride! Remember, this isn’t a smooth road. In fact, we’re not even on a road. This is a field, a very muddy field that we almost got stuck in on more than once that night. We’d get to a narrow stretch, too narrow for even the bus to get through without the branches and bushes scraping along the side, and the boy would jump off. Or so we thought. Low and behold, as soon as we got into a clearing he was back again—holding onto that rim! Gone again, back again! We couldn’t lose him or shake him off. My God, we are going to be known as the students who got an innocent African boy killed by a school bus… (Don’t worry, nothing ever happened, eventually the brush got the better of him and he gave up).

Tomorrow, the windmill will be complete. The inner tower will go up, followed by the generator, blades and tail. Everyone in the village will be coming and maybe even the chief. Mr. Masango will give his big “success” speech again and will re-iterate to the village how the business-side of the windmill wil work. Tomorrow is the grand finale, and I only pray everything goes according to plan.

But for now, time for some much needed Tuskerrrrrrrrrr!!!

1 June 2007 - “Life as a Kenyan” - Part II

About a quarter of the bus unloaded, and the locals there to help carry.

Morris carrying steel to the site

Alex bending over...

Right, so off to the site we go. On the way, we make our daily stops to pick up Morris and Elizabeth and any other volunteer that live in the town just before Kochia. On this particular day, Margaret has already ventured in O’Lary (I have absolutely NO IDEA how to spell any of these village names…). Today is a big day. Margaret will be taking us to meet the Chief!! We need to meet the chief of the tribe and get his blessing, she says. So we detour to the ‘market’ (aka cluster of huts and shacks about 20 minutes out of the way). We get off the bus and proceed to walk another 10 minutes to the Chief’s hut. He’s out. We are asked to come back another day.

We dredge on.

As usual, we need to stop the bus about 3 or 4 km from Margaret’s since the ground too muddy to go any further. We unload the steel, all the tools, batteries, blades, generator, tail, boxes of books, and the 5 crates of pop Margaret had picked up at the market (see photo). It was going to be a loooong walk. Fortunately, the small crowd of very excited children and other locals that appeared everyday as we arrived, were back today. They were eager to help in anyway and were grabbing all the supplies as soon as they were taken off the bus and heading to Margaret’s. I started with two buckets; one in each hand. The buckets were full of bolts, tools, a gallon of water, etc. Then Margaret stopped me. She had one bucket that was slightly lighter so told me to take that. She took the two that were full, double stacked them, and popped them on her head. Then she reached for a third and put it on mine. The fourth she carried. Man, Kenyans have strong heads and necks. I looked around and the 5 or so children that had appeared out of the woodwork, we’re all carrying 2 or 3 pieces of steel on their head. Some not even 10 yrs old. I made it about 1km before a 90 lb, 14 yr old laughed and insisted I take the bucket off my head. (Ok, I lied, I didn’t even make it a kilometer.) She traded me a 5-liter water, placed the bucket on her own head and took off. I got showed up by a 14 yr old girl. Note to self: must practice carrying heavy objects on my head.

Khanjan and his freakishly fast pace, (he’s that guy that forces you to speed walk with random jog-steps thrown in to keep up with his normal pace. For a man who despises physical labor, he knows how to get places – and quickly)…. Khanjan and his freakishly fast pace somehow beat everyone to the top. I know that really has nothing to with anything, but we were all shocked he beat us and so I had to point it out. Granted, he was carrying a battery, so the 90lb 14 year old girl beats him too…

So anyways, about midday, with the sun at its hottest, we finally began to prepare the steel. The steel wasn’t galvanized, and so it needed to be scraped of all present rust (which was a heck of a lot to be modest), primed, and painted to prevent rusting. There were 4 to 6 volunteers to help so things went much better and by 6pm, the last coat of paint was on. All the volunteers were very helpful. We even had a one-legged guy named Jared who probably worked harder than all of the rest. He stood and leaned on his crutch and never took a single break the entire day. We were a brush or two short so everyone else was alternating, but he never stopped. And I can’t even imagine how long it took him to get to Margaret’s- if you haven’t figured this out from the photos, her house isn’t exactly near anything. Furthermore, I remember meeting him on the first day, and that was back in the village O’Lary, about 3 to 5km away.

Oh yeah, at the start of the day, Jason started steel brushing one of the columns and realized that there were a few holes that weren’t drilled…to be specific, the 48 holes that connected the four columns to the foundation columns somehow got forgotten. Needless to say, Jason spent the entire day hanging out at the welding/drilling shop in Homabay, which isn’t a bad trade-off when the other option was being out in the scorching sun with us.


I'd also like to take a moment and make a point. Back in Americana, right before the trip, Alex, Mark, Khanjan, and myself made a walmart trip to pick up any supplie we didnt think we'd find in Kenya. Plastic ties were on that list. I really wanted to get the colored ties, as color always helps in organization. The "boys" all agreed, but kind of looked at me as "the girl who wanted them because they were pretty." The tower pieces had an ABCD scheme to it so we knew where and how it got bolted together. It was all marked with permanent marker. WELL, explain to me how you are going to know what holes match up when the label is painted over? Oh that's right, you can't! But thanks to "wanting the colorful ties because they are pretty" we now had a pink, orange, yellow, and white plastic tie to hook onto each drill hole to correspond with A B C D. Go ahead, you can pat me on the back.


Fish for dinner!!
We finished painting just as it got dark. We cleaned our hands with turpentine as best we could – as that was the only cleaner available (which, for you painters out there, know that it burns like hell when you have cuts on your hands…which we all did), then tried to rinse it with soap and water. Then wiped our hands on our greased up/muddied up/paint covered top, and proceeded inside to eat dinner with our hands.

I think it was a good thing it gets dark so early when you’re on the equator. The fish tasted great, but I’m glad I didn’t have to see it. We only had the lantern to eat by and that was just enough to see you had something in front of you, something that was still hole with scales, fins, eyeballs…the works. Duan ate an eye ball. Well done him.


Tomorrow, we build!!

“Life as a Kenyan” - Part I - 1 June 2007

A little help to get the aggregate and sand to site

The drill/welding shop in Homabay

(above and below)

Homabay

The supermarket (Homabay)

1 June 2007

Oh the joy of the Kenyan countryside. Today began much as the days before. Wake up at 7am. Spanish omelet, toast, generic English sausage (if you’ve never had English sausage before, don’t lose sleep over it), pineapple, and tea; a very KENYAN meal—and I mean that with absolute sincerity. I also mean it when I say that I just completely lied to you; I just had tea – Kenyan fine dining at Margaret’s was starting to effect me in ways that I prefer to not discuss on a public blog.

The bus is scheduled to pick us up arrive promptly at 8am.

8:40am, Linos drives up and we all hop onto the bus.

Jason and Duan are already in town. They headed down to the welder at 630am to meet with the town’s welder when he opened—so that they could get everything finished by the time the bus got there.

Yeah, there was a power outage in Homabay. Even though village is hooked up to the grid that by no means guarantees anything, and this certainly was not the first outage this week.

No worries though, it eventually came back on and the welding was finished promptly (about 11:30am).

It makes me feel so safe when I see the cord run across the street, through the mud, with the end stripped, as it was in the Nairobi shop, so to fit directly into the three prong outlet. Not to mention their plastic sunglasses for eye protection...um…yeah…

While we waited for the welding to finish, Mark and I headed over to the internet café to let our parents know we were still alive. Hi mom! Then, I took my first solo venture through Homabay to get buckets to finish up the foundation. “Where is the best place to look for them?” I asked Khanjan. Go to the supermarket next to Platel’s. Yes, we are on a first name basis with shop-keepers in Homabay…

Granted, Homabay is pretty much a square, so you really have to try to get lost, but I was still impressed at my ability to get to the store without any problems. I’ve even gotten used to the way that everyone blatantly stares at you as you walk past; apparently my tan isn’t helping me blend in… So I got the buckets, no problem. On the way back, I passed the butcher stand to see that most of the full cow from the day before was still hanging out in the window, raw as ever. My thought on the cow continued as I strolled along street, so you can imagine how caught off guard when an abrupt stench stopped me in my tracks as I held back a gag. Oh god, before I even looked up to where the vomit like smell was coming from I knew… there was no where else in the village that could possibly reciprocate this odar...the chicken coop. I’m in Kenya…

31 May 2007

Craftskills guys – Davies and Morgan had planned to come from Nairobi once the structure was up, so they could help us to properly install the generator, blades and tail. However, since we were slightly behind schedule, they arrived the day after alex and I had finished with the enormous hole (good timing eh)? They took a Matatu – 14 passenger vans used for a bus service through the country – vans that love to fly over the crater potholes I told you about - to Homabay The trip should only take about 6hrs on a matatu, versus the 12 hrs it took us on the school bus. Unless, of course your particular matatu decided to overtake a truck on a bridge that wasn’t wide enough and get stuck. It took Davies and Morgan 13 hrs to get to Homabay – they win.

Davies and Morgan arrived the day on time to lay the foundation. Good thing they did too. Alex, Mark, Duan and Jason all stayed behind at the hippobuck to pre-assemble the tower (which must have been a site for the other guests to see a 30 ft steel tower laying across the lawn and 4 white people, with white shirts gone black with grease and dirt working on it each day). As I believe I’ve explained before, Davies and Morgan are from Craftskills – a small company based out of Nairobi that build windmills in and around Kenya for small villages. They both speak English (huge plus!) but neither spoke Luo (not such a plus). Fortunately, everyone in Kenya speaks kiswhili. Hakuna matata!! Via kiswhili, I had a translator for the day!! The foundation consisted of first filling the bottom with large rocks to help with settlement of the ground. Then we placed the first section of the tower into the hole, leveled it perfectly and tightened everything up. Once everything was in place, the concrete was poured and the tower leveled again. Morgan and Davies without a doubt made this job a 1000 times easier, so I need to take a moment and thank them.

In order to get the concrete materials to the site (water, sand, aggregate, and cement), they were brought up the hill by children on bicycles and donkeys. I’m in Kenya…

Mr. Johnson and Morris over saw the concrete mixing, which was done by guest-imating the proportions of water/aggregate/cement/sand ratio and mixing it with a shovel in a large pile, on the ground. Barefooted. When the concrete was poured, the I turned to barefooted Morris and suggested he wash his feet off as soon as possible. We finished just enough time to beat out the daily 6:30pm rain.

Alex learns to count!!

1. Cooking Ugali
2. Elizabeth


















3. Mark, Myself, Alex, and Mr. Masango onthe first day in Margaret's home for the meeting.


The first day was just formality and meeting all the people. The second day Alex and I returned to the site to dig a massive hole. Mark stayed behind, Kenyan food was not settling too well with him.

On our arrival to the site, Morris, one of the locals, and a few other men are also there to help. Most of the women that were at the meeting the day before were again at Margaret’s house, and spent the entire day preparing food for the evening meal. I’m not sure what all preparing the food entailed, but I can tell you that those women sifted every single grain of rice to pick out the stones.

So, on this blazing hot winter day (we’re south of the equator), Alex, Khanjan, all the volunteers and myself begin to dig a massive hole. It is an extremely rocky hillside, this will be interesting.

Oh wait, did I say Khanjan? Alex, the volunteers, and myself begin to dig a massive hole. Khanjan helped the women sift through the rice.

I must give him credit though. He took some amazing photos of the whole windmill experience and I am very grateful.


Everyone was so excited on the first day. All of the women that had come to help with the meal began their day up where the hole was to be dug. They all wanted to help. We only had two shovels, so the day started by passing around the shovels so everyone got a stab at the annoyingly rocky hillside. The neighbor popped over and lent us two pick axes, which were most definitely helpful. The ax part of the tool fell off a few times, we just popped it back on and kept stabbing away.

There wasn’t a cloud in sky and it had to be in the 90s at least. Mr. Johnson (Margaret’s husband) kept coming up and offering more to drink for everyone. I must be honest though, I hot bottle of coca-classic doesn’t exactly clench one’s thirst in this weather.

I always had one out of politeness and tried desperately to decline anymore (which was very difficult when he was coming continuously all day). Though I must say, I quite missed black current Fanta (a delicious drink you can not get in America but I had England). And that surprisingly tastes lovely warm…

Eventually, digging a hole got boring, as things like that tend to do, and the women went back down the hill to the kitchen hut to prepare the food. All except for Elizabeth; the oldest woman there. Elizabeth looked anywhere from 70 to 80 yrs old, and probably weighed 110lbs. But man could she dig. She jumped into that hole and dug in turn with the rest of us. She was also very talkative. Unfortunately, I wasn’t quite fluent in Luhya yet. I spent a lot of time that day smiling and looking around desperately for someone who could translate. She took a liking for Alex and sat him down, and using her fingers as a visual, Alex learned to count to ten. It was a big step for Alex and we are all very proud. From that day out Alex referred to Elizabeth as “apun” – teacher.

By the end of the day, and one massive hole later (about 6’x6’x5’), Tusker—or any COLD beverage for that matter—was all I could think about. Fortunately, for us, it got dark by 630 so our day couldn’t last too long. But first we had our rice, eggs, spinach, ugali and chipote (which is the most amazing sweet, thick, tortilla-like food I’ve ever had in my life). We dragged ourselves back to where the bus was stuck earlier and met up with Linos to take us home. Mark was on the bus, and was perky as can be. Apparently, he was feeling better now.

Back to the ole hippobuck hotel for some quality Tusker time!! Good night!

Day One on site

And the windmill begins!!!!

Day 1:
After removing my mosquito net and enjoying a lovely complimentary breakfast of eggs, toast, fresh pinapple and tea, we all set off for site. Jason and Duan stayed behind at the Hippobuck Hotel to finish assembling the structure while the rest of us head to the site to meet everyone.

Have you ever taken a school bus off-roading? I’m not sure how much I’d recommend it. Well, that’s essentially what will be doing for the next week to get to and from the site. Margaret’s home is about a 10 to 15 km out from Homabay, and I’d guess at least half of that is through dirt roads or grassy paths about 5ft wide—it took about an hour everyday. The first day was the real test—how far could the bus REALLY go through these fields? Good thing we all brought bags of candy to hand out to the school children that helped push us out of the mud!

Margaret’s home is set up on top of a large hill (which I’m guessing had some influence on why it was chosen to house the windmill…). Homes are scattered throughout the fields in this area, surrounded by fields of corn and grazing cattle, with no particular order to where the boundaries may lie. There is a water pump about a half a mile before Margaret’s home where her family get their water. They, like their neighbors, have no running water or electicity. Essentially for any modern supply/tool or use of technology (such as internet), everyone from Kochia has to walk the 10km to Homa bay. However, they do ALL have cell phones!!! And they work just fine out there! To charge their phones they also have to go into town.

Margaret welcomed us into her home and fed us rice, eggs, spinach and ugali (basically cornmeal boiled in water until it thickens) Many of the women in the community are part of a “development group,” and the entire group was there to greet us. All in uniform – name tag, white shirt and black skirt. Mr. Masango had his typical suit and tie on. Let me tell you how good we all looked showing up in our grease stained t-shirts and jeans.

The meeting began opened with a prayer followed by an introduction or each member. Everything was very formal. Only the person who was speaking stood. I must say, admit, it was my first time I’ve ever spoken to a room full of people that had no idea what I was saying. (The local language within this tribe surrounding Homabay is Luo.)

Khanjan and Mr. Masango explained, with the help of the translator/secretary of the group/minister, to the community how the windmill would work and how it needed to be a business. How everyone would have to pay to charge their batteries from the windmill so that the windmill would be sustainable.

Mr. Masango ended his speech with a quote from a fairly well-known man by the name of John F. Kennedy. “Ask not what America can do for you, but what can you do for America!” he shouted. The translator repeated and Margaret’s home was in an uproar of cheers! “Success! Success! Success!” Everyone shouted together….oh boy…. I really hope they don’t come after us with pick axes and spears if this thing doesn’t work…

Bus Ride to Homabay

Bus Ride to Homabay

I previously wrote:
“By the time Sunday [last day in shop] came, we were all so exhausted that the idea of spending 6 or 7 hrs on a bus, doing ABSOLUTELY NOTHING seemed heavenly, and we all relished the thought. A WHOLE day (well, minus the 7am to 12pm we had already spent in the shop) of not assembling, drilling, or lugging steel around.

Nairobi to to Homabay is only about 200km by way the crow flies. We left at noon and arrived just before midnight—and we did NOT get lost and we did NOT hit traffic.

Keep in mind, the school bus was loaded not only the six of us plus Mr. Masango (a Uni. Of Nairobi professor that was helping with the project) but also with over a 1000 pounds of steel and ten bags of cement. Now add some bumpy roads into the equation.

Immediately outside of Nairobi, the landscape is littered with a beautiful park, and quaint neighborhoods. The houses actually look like homes you’d find at the beach or in a tropical setting. But then, before you even have a chance to fully take in the first scene, there are small huts, made up of sheet metal, lining the road. Goats, chicken and cattle littered the yards, streets, even main road. On more than one occasion we had to stop until the cow got out of the road. I’m in Kenya….

Oh, you know the saying “never trust a skinny chef?” I have a knew one for you:

Never trust a one-eyed bus driver in East Africa.

Well, Lynos wasn’t one eyed, just had one working one and one was very lazy.

Anyways, within an hour of being outside of Nairobi the roads drastically changed. Potholes would have been a blessing. I’m talking craters. In fact, the roads were so bad that Lyons drove on the dirt shoulder because it was easier than the road. However, driving on the shoulder also meant we were angled, in turn, I continually found myself gripping the storage racks above in anticipation for the bus to flip onto it’s side. Lyons was a warrior driver and I have great respect for him.

The trip in general was anything but relaxing. It was more like having seizures for twelve hours straight. You hit a minor straight stretch. You relax. CRATER AHEAD ZIP TO THE LEFT SHOULDER (and still slightly hit it as the crater stretched the entire road, we just hit the nicer part of it). BRACE YOURSELF…. Phew…oh wait here comes another, but this one we have to get to the RIGHT shoulder. And then, errr, slam on the brakes because there are baboons in the road.

Theoretically, Kenya drives on the left side of road. How often to do theories play out? Exactly. One drove wherever the road was best. Or where wasn’t a car coming straight at you. If the car in front of you was going a little to slow, and you were on sharp curve on the side of a cliff. Hakuna matata, my friend, we we’re still going to pass that car. If a car was coming in the other direction, well he had better have good breaks! I’m in Kenya…

To be fair, every once in a while we did hit a stretch of main road that was new and in good condition. But then, there were police checks and/or speed bumps every 100 yds or so. We had no hope.
At one point in started to rain. We had finally just hit one of the nicer bits of road and so Lyons sped up past his 15mph pace he had been forced to stay at. The speed bump came out of no where. He tried to stop in time, but it was too late. We hit it head on. All 1000lbs of steel lifted up and slammed back down, as did each on of us. Lyons stopped completely and turned on the lights to make sure we were all OK. But no one was to be seen. The hit had also elevated the 10 bags of cement and now there was so much cement dust in the air that we couldn’t see a thing.

Somehow, Jason slept this entire thing. Everyone else had about 4 to 14 heart attacks. Maybe he got knocked out from one of the potholes hits and no one realized it…

Anyways,
You know my tid bit I added about the toilets in the Nairobi? Yeah, I spoke too soon.



At one of the stops for gas I asked if they had a bathroom. No bathroom. You know how when you hold it in for so long, the urge to go kind of goes away? Well, that’s what happened but an hour later Mr. Masango had us pull over again because he insisted on finding a bathroom for me. When one was found, I really had no choice but to say “sante sana (thank you) and use the bathroom. Keep in mind it’s still torrentially down pouring outside. I’m talking the rain that soaks you to the bone after 3 seconds. We are also in the middle of no where; we had been seeing wild Zebra and Giraffe til it got dark out. This bathroom Mr. Masango had found for me was about 150 yrds from the gas station, down a dirt (now mud) path in middle of no where (don’t worry mom, I was escorted by Khanjan). When I got there, it was just a lean-to shack with a hole in the mud ground. With no lights, obviously. So I had just walked 150yrds, in the pouring down rain, in the dark, in the middle of nowhere, down a mud soaked path, to pee in the pitch black down hole. AND I DIDN’T EVEN HAVE TO GO ANYMORE!! I’m in Kenya…

Anyways, we finally made it to Homabay. Our hotel is about a half of km outside of the village—which we are actually happy for because Homabay is more so the slums than a town. The hotel is quite nice. Fully served breakfast, electricity, large mosquito nets, hot water and decently comfortable beds. Paradise!!

A little bit of Nairobi

A little bit about Nairobi:

Ok, before I jump to the trip to Homa bay, I’m gonna back up and give you a little windmill break to tell you about my experiences in Nairobi.

Well…..I didn’t actually see much of Nairobi, since 95% of my day was spent in the shop. However, I manage to meet a handful of the engineering students at the University, and they were all quite nice! Word must have spread quickly of the Americans as everyday it seemed there would be another visitor to the shop. On the last day, a handful of girls, I’d say about 13 yrs old, came by because they wanted to meet me. The concept of a woman engineer was so such a far-fetched concept. “How old are?” “23” “Ohh…so young…and you can do what these men can do?”

Not to brag, but the Kenyans thought I was cool. If they only knew…

As I might have mentioned already, maybe—we spent most of the day in the shop. And though the machines, were ancient – for a lack of a better term—they were still machines and we still had power. Therefore, though I never forgot we weren’t in America, I’d forget that I was in a developed country while in our little shop. Then I used the restroom.

Before I give you the details, remember that the toilets were locked at all times, and so you had to obtain a key to get in.

So I unlock the door and see four stalls in along my right side. First toilet had no door, no top on the back of the toilet, no handle to flush it and not even a place that toilet paper could have been had there been any. Hm, moving along. Well, stall number two had a door. This is looking up. It had a pool hand for flushing….and no toilet. Just a basin at ground level. Door number three and four were replicas of door number one.

I wasn’t quite ready for the hole in the ground yet, so I went for door number one, (er, lack of).

Good thing they keep that place under lock and key!!

Night out on the town:
One word for you -- CARNIVORE!!!!!!!!!!!!

One of the nights, Alex, Mark and I headed out to a little restaurant called Canivore!! (In case you didn’t figure that out from the tittle). Khanjan came along as well, which is ironic since he is a hardcore, save all animals, vegetarion. I’ll upload picture of the menu at this enchanting abode. The restaurant was about 30 minutes drive from the hotel and clearly not for the locals (the meal was 1500 shillings, which is about 20 bucks).

Let me paint you a picture of Carnivore. This a land of all meat. Even ostrich and Crocodile were on the menu!! All you can eat… Granted we had to wait over an hour for a seat, but well worth the wait (besides, it gave us a chance to spend some quality time with our new favorite beer…Tuskerrrrrr—THE beer of Kenya, and one that never let us down). A white flag stood in the center of our table. The meal began with the waiter placing a lazy susan filled with an assortment of sauces for the different meats at our table. Then, one by one came another waiter with an 18” rod bursting with a new and delicious meat: chicken, pork, turkey, ribs, sausage, (Tusker) ostrich meatballs, (Tusker) crocodile meat, juicy ostrich meat…etc. One by one, the waiters came; each with a new, thirst quenching slab to fill our bellies. They came and we ate, until we could eat no more. The white flag was dropped, as a sign of our surrender. A waiter returned with empty hands (it was a sad moment) and cleared our plates. Luckily, he wasn’t empty handed for long. He shortly returned to replace the voids on the table with mouth watering desserts to refresh ones pallet (not such a sad moment this time).

Carnivore, a beautiful place that will always hold a special place in my heart.

Other bits I will not forget about Nairobi:

1. Mango juice – juice from heaven
2. Breakfast everyday with the waitress that hated us
3. The taxi drivers (in their ancient cars)—who would stop to get gas on the way to the destination. Then, they wouldn’t just drop you off. You had the taxi for however long you need him. Before getting in, a price was negotiated. For example, our driver brought us to Carnivore for an agreed price, THEN, instead of leaving, he waited outside in his car until we finished our meals, and then drove us home.)
4. Terminal Hotel --nice people, decent room (as long as you ignore the occasional tiny cockroach found on wall or floor, and you don’t mind a mosquito net that had a hole or two in it.)
5. The bar—directly below our room that had Kareeoke on Thursday nights.
6. The Mosque across the street. For those of you who have never experienced being near a Mosque before, they all have loud speakers on the top. As you know, Muslims pray 5 times a day. Subsequently, the loud speakers emit a chant (I’m a little rusty on my Arabic(?), so I was having trouble making out the words…). However, after the first night (when it scared the crap out of me at 4 in the morning), I slept right through it, so no complaints. If anything the speakers were nice, kind of a check on the time.

Alright, that’s all I got on Nairobi. In case I forgot to mention, we spent most of our time in the shop…


Homabay, here we come!!!!!

Making the tower - Uni. of Nairobi workshop

Thursday May 24th 2007 – Sunday May 27th 2007

Today we began to construct the foundation and tower. The University of Nairobi allowed use to their workshop to construct the tower. The machines were slightly ancient (probably not updated in that last 30yrs minimum), but they got the job done. We were in the shop for 4 and half days before we got a bus to take us out to Homabay-- I have no idea if it’s Homabay or Homa Bay so you’ll see me spell it both ways.

We made it through the first day with only a few minor setbacks—in fact, this was undoubtedly the ONLY day we left with our heads still high.

As mentioned before, Khanjan had gone to the Industrial Area prior to our arrival and had but a bunch of steel. All the pieces were supposed to be 20 ft. And they were, give or take a foot. First things first: divvy up the steel: Alex and I figured out how to cut the assortment of pieces in order to utilize it all. In this task came the first challenge, which was minor, but was an absolute foreshadow of what was to come: Only about half the steel was actually straight. Some bowed left or right. Some even twisted. Right, so let me rephrase what Alex and I did. We figured how much of each piece could actually be used (if any at all), THEN decided how to cut the pieces, then made an inventory for Khanjan to go BACK to the Industrial Area to buy more steel (and preferably straight, we requested).

Mark went to work cutting the steel to the designated sizes as we gave him the list, and Khanjan went shopping.

The machine to cut the steel was not a bandsaw that some of you may imagine. It was a single horizontal blade that began above the piece you wanted to cut and then swung, in pendulum fashion, lower and lower and through the steel. It took a few minutes to cut each piece. We had over 1000lbs of steel, which needed to be cut into about 60 pieces of steel, and 40ft of 4” wide steel plate that needed cut down into about 50-60 pieces.

It took a few days to cut it all.


Here’s the kicker you need to keep in mind: Obviously you can’t drill, weld or assemble anything until the pieces actually exist. Which translates to, the cutting needs prioritized and to run smoothly for everything else to run smoothly. Comprendo?

Don’t worry, I won’t bore you with all the details of the days in the workshops. Just know that by the time we left that shop, we wore out more machines than the Nairobi students could have in an entire year.
First, we broke 3 blades, and every single time a blade to the cutter broke, it took anywhere from an hour to half up to an entire day before we could get our hands on another one. We also broke the ½ inch drill bit—which was great since we were drilling ½ inch holes. And ladies and gents, we’re in Kenya, there is not a Home Depot that one can go to, in order to replenish supplies. That half inch drill bit was THE half inch drill bit attainable. And we broke it— on the second day.

(A drill bit is the drilling metal of the machine, for those of you who have no clue as to what I’m talking about).

Actually there were two presses: the mother and mini me. We were drilling the ½ inch holes with the mother and the 3/8 inch holes with mini-me to utilize time. We exhausted mini-me into retirement (at least for the rest of this project). In fact, we even managed to blow a fuse to the entire shop at one point.

Everyday Khanjan would say: can you finish by noon so we can leave for Homabay? We’d say, one more day. Wed, Thurs, Friday, Saturday. Finally on Sunday we packed up, finished or not, and headed out. Each day we arrived and left the workshop a bit later than the day before. So that by Saturday, we arrived at 7:30am and were there til 11pm. We would have happily worked through the night to finish everything up because once we got to Homabay, we would no longer have a workshop to work in and would have to hire someone to drill holes and weld. However, poor Lynos, the technician (and would transform into our bus driver the following day), had to stick around the workshop as long as were there because he had the keys to lock up.

By the time Sunday came, we were all so exhausted that the idea of spending 6 or 7 hrs on a bus, doing ABSOLUTELY NOTHING seemed heavenly, and relished the thought. A WHOLE day (well, minus the 7am to 12pm we had already spent in the shop) of not assembling, drilling, lugging steel around.

Did I tell you about my nickname they boys made up for me? It stemmed from my dark complexion. You see, by the end of every day everyone was covered with black grease from the steel. White shirts and pants no longer existed. However, I managed to take this sooting adventure to a new level. You see, if you didn’t know, I’m the weakest woman alive. I can’t do one push up, literally. But I was also the only girl on this project and so I couldn’t reveal my weakness. Therefore, to carry the steel, I had to lift with my legs and then hold it against my stomach to carry more than one piece at a time. Good thing for me I am also a woman with hips. These hips were meant to hold babies, laundry, and especially steel---who would’ve guessed!

Anyways, because I had to “prop” the steel, per say, my shirt was twice as black as everyone else’s. My arms were also covered. Consequently, my face blended right in with my fellow Kenyans thanks to my constant habit of brushing lose strands of hair out of my face.

Allow me to introduce myself: Coal Miner Betsy.

(Photos, starting upper left and working clockwise: cutting machine, myself lining up the columns, jason and Duan working on the foundation, Alex and Mark putting the inner tower together, a building being errected)

Trip to Kenya
430am, May 22nd, mama hall drove me to the pittburgh airport.
830am, I arrived at JFK in NYC and began my 12 hr Journey to Dubai, with a little company called Emirates.
Then a second flight was taken from Dubai to Nairobi. Finally arriving in Kenya at 2pm on May 23rd (Kenyan time – which is 8am NY time…7 hrs ahead).

Note to everyone: if you ever have the chance to fly Emirates, DO IT. It was by far the best airline I’ve ever taken. Over 360 movies/tv shows on demand, hot towels before and after meals, meals that taste LIKE REAL FOOD. REAL silverware!! No joke, no plastic for Emirates. Free alcoholic beverages. Free candy bar by request, and I’m not talking the fun size, I’m talking full blown Snickers my friend. I must be honest, I can not WAIT to fly home!

Nairobi
Ah, Nairobi. The largest city in Kenya. Nairobi was largely what I expected it to be like. All of the cars appear to have at least 10 yrs on me. The roads are worn down, and even though there are lines painted to separate the lanes, it’s really every car for themselves; if there’s a 3ft wide space, then one will find room to squeeze his 5ft wide car into it. There are some nicer buildings that would blend into the US without question (mostly the Sheraton hotels and business headquarters), but then there will be a building next to it being constructed, with only pieces of tree logs about 3 to 4 inches in diameter being used to support the concrete during construction. It is then that I remember---I’m in Kenya…

Oh, quick character review, below is a list of who was involved in this project and a brief description so when I talk about them later you know who I’m referring.

There were 5 penn state students (including myself) that mainly worked on this project (other’s were involved but only 4 of them I knew directly)

Alex & Mark – both of these guys came to Kenya with me. Alex is a 6’6” electrical engineer. Mark is an mechanical engineer. Both also just graduated from Penn State.

Josh and Anthony – These guys we’re not able to make the trip due to Penn State restrictions on undergraduates traveling to countries with travel warnings. They are both Architectural engineers (though I won’t hold that against them). The three of us designed the tower with help/guidance of a few of our professors.

Khanjan Mheta – The man. He is an instructor and researcher at Penn State, as well as the head of this project.

I flew into Nairobi with two other students, Mark and Alex. Already in Nairobi was our professor—Khanjan, Jason and Duan (pronounced Ju-an). Jason is American that was traveling Europe, somehow got involved with Penn State ESW and has been in Nairobi for two months helping us get affairs in orders over here. Duan is an Australian, friend’s with Jason, who just happened to also be traveling and thought this was a neat project so he stuck around Nairobi with Jason. (Little did he know what he really signed up for…)

Anyways,
So Mark, Alex and myself arrive into Nairobi after our over 24 hr journey. The Nairobi airport is in the largest in Kenya---about ¼ of the size of Pittsburgh Airport. Security went much like this:

We fill out a form and pay $50 for our visas. Our passports are stamped. No questions asked. So much for customs? We head out of the airport, but then a woman at a desk stops me and asks me what is in a box I had. I look up and realize that custom inspection is after passport approval. Just books, I tell her. “Oh ok, see you.” And the three of us head out to the parking lot. Again, so much for customs?

We get picked up from the airport by men from the University and they take us to the hotel where we meet Khanjan, Jason, and Duan. Now, I’ve actually been up for almost 48 hrs at this point because I was up the entire night BEFORE I left to travel, double checking all the drawings/construction plans etc. We meet Khanjan and he says, “Right, let’s pop over to the University, look at what’s done and meet with some people from the University.

So much for a nap. Don’t worry Khanjan, we’re not jetlagged at all.

Now, I had sent over a bill of materials a few days prior so that the steel could be bought and cut before our arrival. We get to the workshop and there lies the steel. In the bill of materials, I had made a point to say that we needed 2 ½” x 2 ½” angles as a MINIMUM size for each section of the tower to be 8ft. There in front of me laid a pile of 2 x 2 inch angles….

2 ½ didn’t exist and 3 inch was too expensive. Right, we’ll just have to decrease the sections to four 6ft sections instead of three 8ft sections. Glad I spent the whole night up making sure all the drawings were accurate.

After we were shown around the shop (details on that tomorrow), a man named Mr. Misango met up with us and we all sat down for a beer. Note to everyone: one beer when lacking 48hrs of sleep gets to one REAL fast.

By now it’s about 9pm.

Khanjan, can we just get something to eat and go to bed? “Oh right, I bet you guys are tired,” he replies. Ya think?

So we go to a place call the Java house (more on this place later). I had an amazing burrito---in Kenya—so much for authentic food. I still have 32 more days in this country. So as the Kenyans would say : Hakuna Matata!

What in the world am I doing in Africa?

Hello everyone! As you know, I’ve just returned from 4 and half week trip to Kenya. Granted, I am slightly late on this blog but I will try to make up for that. I’ll add a little to it each day.—I’ll try to make them short enough so that to not overwhelm you all with my long, drawn out stories, but long enough that it will give you a break/excuse to escape from whatever you are doing.

Some of you know why I am here, some of you may not. If you do, then go ahead and skip to the next page—unless you fall into the “ I just need a reason to stop working for 5 minutes” category I mentioned above—then please read on.

So what am I doing in Kenya? For the past year and a half or so, I have been involved in a club at Penn State called Engineers for a Sustainable World (ESW). ESW creates projects to improve the quality of life in developing countries. This may be creating a water treatment system for the community or finding ways to get them electricity—whatever is needed most in the specific area. Most of the projects occur in Central America, so I’m not really sure how this one ended up being in Africa, but here I am! And this project actually isn’t associated with the national chapter of ESW, so… yeah
…

Anyways, the project that I specifically got involved in was designing/building a windmill for a small community about 10km outside of the village Homabay. (a village called Kochia) Homabay is about 300km drive from Nairobi. It’s on the shores of Lake Visctoria—the second largest fresh water body in the world. Electricity via the grid is hard to come by in Kenya, and nearly non-existant once you leave a major city. Where we are building the windmill, the only means of power the community can have is if they walk the 10km to Homabay to get a battery charged. This is where the windmill comes in. The windmill will create enough power to charge about 10 to 20 batteries a week so that the community can get power from there. The batteries are only going to be 12V so it can run a light, a small radio, charge a cell phone etc. Keep in mind that Kenya straddles the equator and does not recognize daylight’s saving---so it’s dark by 630 ALL year. And they no electricity to light their homes.

One of the chief concerns of ESW projects is how to make the project sustainable. If we just came in, put the windmill up, gave out 20 batteries and left, then what would happen if the windmill broke? Who would fix it? Therefore, batteries may be BOUGHT from us at a subsidized price---we decrease the cost by 200 shillings for each day that person helps to build the windmill. (66 shillings is about a $1.00 and a battery is about 3000 shillings.) Then, the person still needs to pay 20 or 30 shillings every time he or she gets they battery charged. This profit will go into a bank account that certain “elected board members” within the community is in charge of. Therefore, the windmill becomes a business. Money is available to fix or improve the windmill. As a check, money is not allowed to be withdrawn from the account without permission from certain staff at the University of Nairobi and Penn State.

So that’s that. I am now (well, was) in Kenya, building a windmill for a little village, Kochia.