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.