Eventually we continued on our daily journey to Margaret’s, and surprisingly didn’t even get stuck in the mud from yesterday’s rain.
On arrival at Margaret’s there was we were introduced to a newcomer. A ram. A ram that knew exactly why he was there and was fighting with all his might to release himself from the rope tying him to the tree. After the reverend led us in the daily prayer, Mr. Johnson took his mashetti, untied the ram from the tree, and took the unwilling Ram into the trees. Mark, Alex, Duan and Jason followed suit. They all wanted to see the sacrifice. Myself and Khanjan were not so keen and so we headed up to the windmill to begin work. .
Once the ram was taken care of, the women took it into the kitchen hut to begin preparing it. The ram would be cooked and eaten for dinner that night--and when I say the are going to cook the ram, I mean they are going to cook the ENTIRE ram. I’m in Kenya, they can’t afford to waste parts, and they didn’t, trust me.
Meanwhile, everyone else headed to the top of the hill to finish up. The windmill would be complete in a few hours and we were all anxious to see the finished product. The remaining construction went off without a hitch. The inner tower was erected, the generator, blades and tail hoisted up by rope to Davis and Morgan (the Craftskills guys) and assembled at the top.
About mid afternoon, while Davis and Morgan were tweeking the windmill, I snuck away with Sweety, one of Margaret’s daughters. Sweety wanted to show me what she does about two or three days a week as soon as she gets home from school. We walked about a mile to the mill, which in reality was just another person’s home with a mill on the side, to get cornflower for the Ugali. We stopped at the water pump, but it was a Sunday, and the pump is locked on Sundays. I assume because Sunday is God’s day and should be a day of rest, but I can’t tell you for sure. I’ve come to learn that asking “why” in Africa is pointless. Rules and guidelines are made up with no apparent reasoning here, and they change without a moments notice. Asking questions will not bring answers so I’ve learned to just accept things as they are. During our trip, Sweety stopped to chat with some of her neighbors. I could see the woman’s children in the background, staring at me from a safe distance. I smiled and waved. They had been caught in the act, and blushed expressions showed it. Then they slowly approached Sweety and asked her in Luo if I could take a picture of them. I did, and showed it to them on my digital camera. Polaroid cameras may be an item of the past, but at that moment, I really regretted not having one. What good would my digital do? I couldn’t even print digital photos anywhere except the major cities (Nairobi, Mombasa or Kisumu). Nevertheless, showing them the picture on my camera seemed good enough for them. They all bravely put their hand out and I shook each one before Sweety and I continued on back to her family’s home.
By the time we got back to Margaret’s Mr. Masango had begun his “success” speech. I quietly sat down next Duan and we both tried to get some shade off of the 3 foot next to us. Mr. Masango spoke in English for our benefit and the reverend/secretary/translator translated for the locals.
I had imagined this magnificent scene that comprised of a windmill going full force in the background as Mr. Masango gave his motivational speech on how everyone must work together and will work together for the better of the community. I envisioned a great energy would surge through the audience and all the villagers would band together and cheer.
Never imagine such things ahead of time. To everyone’s dismay, the wind hadn’t picked up yet so the windmill was sitting on the top of the hill, idle. And as far as the speech, it was too hot to even pay attention. And looking around at the expressions on the face of his audience, they clearly felt the same way. About 40 minutes in, I realized Mr. Masango wasn’t even going to repeat the JFK speech again. The heat was getting the better of me, so I snuck back down the hill to the house and relief in the shade. Mark and Alex were already down there. We all decided that we knew what Mr. Masango was telling him—we’re the ones that had explained the mission to him after all, so our absence wouldn’t be seen as rude.
Finally, Mr Masango ran out of things to say (somehow), and people started to trickle back down the hill.
Then, the gust of wind we needed came and the windmill picked up and didn’t stop. Everyone stopped and just stared quietly. It was a beautiful site; the last few weeks of frustrations and hardships had finally paid off.
Well, almost. Later that evening, the men were testing the cut-off speed—which means that once the wind reaches a certain speed, it trips a circuit and slows the windmill back down (or something like that, I’m not an electrical engineer)—and they burnt something out permanently. So, the entire generator, blades and tail went were disassembled and packed to returned to Nairobi to get fixed. Dave and Morgan would return the following week with the fixed pieces. And they did, and the windmill is still up and running today.
On arrival at Margaret’s there was we were introduced to a newcomer. A ram. A ram that knew exactly why he was there and was fighting with all his might to release himself from the rope tying him to the tree. After the reverend led us in the daily prayer, Mr. Johnson took his mashetti, untied the ram from the tree, and took the unwilling Ram into the trees. Mark, Alex, Duan and Jason followed suit. They all wanted to see the sacrifice. Myself and Khanjan were not so keen and so we headed up to the windmill to begin work. .
Once the ram was taken care of, the women took it into the kitchen hut to begin preparing it. The ram would be cooked and eaten for dinner that night--and when I say the are going to cook the ram, I mean they are going to cook the ENTIRE ram. I’m in Kenya, they can’t afford to waste parts, and they didn’t, trust me.
Meanwhile, everyone else headed to the top of the hill to finish up. The windmill would be complete in a few hours and we were all anxious to see the finished product. The remaining construction went off without a hitch. The inner tower was erected, the generator, blades and tail hoisted up by rope to Davis and Morgan (the Craftskills guys) and assembled at the top.
About mid afternoon, while Davis and Morgan were tweeking the windmill, I snuck away with Sweety, one of Margaret’s daughters. Sweety wanted to show me what she does about two or three days a week as soon as she gets home from school. We walked about a mile to the mill, which in reality was just another person’s home with a mill on the side, to get cornflower for the Ugali. We stopped at the water pump, but it was a Sunday, and the pump is locked on Sundays. I assume because Sunday is God’s day and should be a day of rest, but I can’t tell you for sure. I’ve come to learn that asking “why” in Africa is pointless. Rules and guidelines are made up with no apparent reasoning here, and they change without a moments notice. Asking questions will not bring answers so I’ve learned to just accept things as they are. During our trip, Sweety stopped to chat with some of her neighbors. I could see the woman’s children in the background, staring at me from a safe distance. I smiled and waved. They had been caught in the act, and blushed expressions showed it. Then they slowly approached Sweety and asked her in Luo if I could take a picture of them. I did, and showed it to them on my digital camera. Polaroid cameras may be an item of the past, but at that moment, I really regretted not having one. What good would my digital do? I couldn’t even print digital photos anywhere except the major cities (Nairobi, Mombasa or Kisumu). Nevertheless, showing them the picture on my camera seemed good enough for them. They all bravely put their hand out and I shook each one before Sweety and I continued on back to her family’s home.
By the time we got back to Margaret’s Mr. Masango had begun his “success” speech. I quietly sat down next Duan and we both tried to get some shade off of the 3 foot next to us. Mr. Masango spoke in English for our benefit and the reverend/secretary/translator translated for the locals.
I had imagined this magnificent scene that comprised of a windmill going full force in the background as Mr. Masango gave his motivational speech on how everyone must work together and will work together for the better of the community. I envisioned a great energy would surge through the audience and all the villagers would band together and cheer.
Never imagine such things ahead of time. To everyone’s dismay, the wind hadn’t picked up yet so the windmill was sitting on the top of the hill, idle. And as far as the speech, it was too hot to even pay attention. And looking around at the expressions on the face of his audience, they clearly felt the same way. About 40 minutes in, I realized Mr. Masango wasn’t even going to repeat the JFK speech again. The heat was getting the better of me, so I snuck back down the hill to the house and relief in the shade. Mark and Alex were already down there. We all decided that we knew what Mr. Masango was telling him—we’re the ones that had explained the mission to him after all, so our absence wouldn’t be seen as rude.
Finally, Mr Masango ran out of things to say (somehow), and people started to trickle back down the hill.
Then, the gust of wind we needed came and the windmill picked up and didn’t stop. Everyone stopped and just stared quietly. It was a beautiful site; the last few weeks of frustrations and hardships had finally paid off.
Well, almost. Later that evening, the men were testing the cut-off speed—which means that once the wind reaches a certain speed, it trips a circuit and slows the windmill back down (or something like that, I’m not an electrical engineer)—and they burnt something out permanently. So, the entire generator, blades and tail went were disassembled and packed to returned to Nairobi to get fixed. Dave and Morgan would return the following week with the fixed pieces. And they did, and the windmill is still up and running today.
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