On true grit and determination

'Liet charma' - it means I'm hot in Luo, the mother tongue of the Luo tribe who live along the shores of Lake Victoria in South West Kenya. Sweating, I count eleven people crammed into the bashed up Toyota estate waiting for one last passenger to reach full capacity so we can leave. The owner's shouting manically  at no one in particular 'Mbita, Mbita, Mbita" which makes me smile though as it means that I'm almost back in my home away from home.

I'd arrived via Abu Dhabi and Nairobi. I'd been visiting friends on the way, and the abundance and excesses of the Middle East feels obscene here where the so many survive on less than $1 a day. Mbita, my destination, is the town on Rusinga Island. It's beautiful, but poor. Set on Lake Victoria, fishing dominates the local economy with many businesses living and dying based on the success or failure of last night's catch.

In Nairobi I'd attended a strategy meeting for AMREF, one of Africa's largest health NGOs where they'd been setting their business plan 2014-17. Their HQ based in Nairboi, AMREF is a proudly African organisation with a mantra 'African solutions to African problems'.

This chimes nicely with the reason for my trip. For six years the Alekii school which delivers free or subsidised  education to children affected by poverty and HIV/AIDs has survived on donations from the West. Volunteers like me have contributed to building a new school building in 2012, and more recently the incredible generosity of donors from the UK have kept the school running paying essential running costs like teacher's salaries. But Alekii is a Kenyan school, run by a capable group of Kenyans and our vision is to become self sustainable and relinquish the dependence on donations.

Tackling HIV/AIDS is a large part of AMREF's work, and this is particularly prominent along the shores of Lake Victoria where the infection rate is as high as 40%. Part of the reason for this is a local custom called 'Jaboya', or exchanging sex for fish. Women, often widows, are forced to offer themselves to fishermen in exchange for being first in line to buy the catch to sell at the market and make a meagre living to support their families. Jaboya is one the main reasons that the HIV/AIDS infection rate is so high in this region, and we plan to shoot a short documentary to highlight the problem, thus forming the second reason for me returning to the island.

Back to the overcrowded Toyota and a man with a chicken has jammed himself contortionist style into the boot and we're off. As the island peeks appear over the bumpy ridge, I worry about the state that I'll find the school in. The last two years have not been easy for the family who run the it - in 2012 a tropical storm blew the roof off the new school building, the project coordinator was evicted losing his family home and business in the process, and in May of this year another storm collapsed a wall in the family home putting their grandfather in hospital with a broken leg.

When I eventually arrive at the family home which is next to the school grounds I'm pleased to see that everyone is in good spirits. Alekii is truly a family run organisation, and I'm greeted warmly by the sons, daughters, grandchildren and grandparents who run the day to day operations and will be my hosts for the next two months.

They tell me that the school is surviving, but barely. Fundraising has taken a back seat while the family focus on rebuilding themselves after recent set backs. The teachers have not been paid this month and the family are scraping together the little they have to try and continue the school's feeding programme of daily porridge.

I'm a fundraiser, and I feel I should relish this kind of challenge but I feel nervous. There's a lot riding on this trip and we need to get it right. The following day we begin putting a plan together. There are essentially four income streams for the school: contributions from parents, the school's volunteer programme, grants from institutional funders and enterprise projects.

We focus on the quick wins and begin contacting prospective volunteers which result in a handful of confirmations and we're off. We meet with local offices from various government departments and chase funding applications and begin planning future applications for more significant infrastructure projects. The school needs a new classroom to meet the demand of the community and the Kenyan government are offering funding for this kind of work.

As we progress, I feel more confident now that the building blocks are in place. We pay the teachers who have waited patiently for their salaries and budget carefully for the next quarter.

Luos have a saying 'Mos mos' which means slowly slowly, or bit by bit. This is the pace here and it takes me a while to adjust to back to it. The first order of the day on arrival was to arrange some wheels. In the UK buying a bike would be a relatively straight forward affair but here it takes two full days, involves a 200 mile round trip and even then the pedal falls off having ridden the thing for just two minutes.

I'm not complaining though -  my routine is wonderful. The day starts at 5.30 with kickboxing training made possible by two kind friends in the UK who donated the equipment. My training partners, both named Evans, are tough young athletes who are both training for army trials later in the year. I can tell you that putting in the miles with Kenyans is no joke, although on our first outing a crowd of school kids join us on our run and a group of around 30 jog through the town in a bizarre scene that amuses the locals. This week I felt buoyed keeping pace until I realised that Evans was wearing flip flops.  

Solar power is coming to the island which is brilliant to see, and there is an ambitious plan to bring panels and lights to every household over the next year. For now though, there is no power at the school and I spend my mornings at the Solar Hub working to plan our fundraising sat next to bright, well educated young Kenyans who are learning everything from Word to Photoshop. There's so much potential here, if not the jobs to make use of it.

Afternoons are spent coaching the school's football team, and inspired by England's woeful performance against Uruguay I decide that if I'll be successful if I leave with the team playing a decent passing game and being able to control the ball. Now wherever I go into the village there's guaranteed to be a gaggle of youngsters yelling 'Pass, touch, pass' at me. Not quite Ferguson-esque yet but we'll get there.

Having been here for two weeks now I'm struck again by an overwhelming sense of grit and determination in the people I meet. People are tough here because you have to be. There's no safety net for emergencies or NHS when your family gets sick. The school has survived in the face of significant hardship only because of the will of the community. Yet there is a genuine belief that together we can ensure that it continues to grow and thrive.

Right now we're busy putting business plans together now for an enterprise scheme which will sustain the school for the long term and create jobs for the community which I'm excited to share, but aren't quite ready yet. The numbers look like they add up though, and we're all determined to make it work.