Animals (?)

Sunset over Tsavo East, Kenya

And so it wouldn't be much of a East Africa blog without paying some homage to the incredible animals found across the region, but in my own way I'm going to try and put some quasi political / philosophical bent on it.

On safari in the beautiful Tsavo East national park near Mombasa, I found myself wondering why so many are drawn to the plains to seek out the exotic wildlife.

For the machismo mid-life crisis male geared up with matching safari outfits, I think the idea of the law of the jungle, where only the strongest survive, is the draw because this probably mirrors their view of our own society and their lives in the boardrooms of their massive corporations.

For others I imagine it's the element of (albeit minimal) danger of getting close to wild animals without cage bars and electric fences separating them. The bragging rights at dinner parties when they get home that they survived a 'near death experience' with a charging elephant.

For most I think its simple pleasure of seeing the big five in their own environment. To see the natural world at its best, and reconnect with an ancient time where the divide between humans and animals was less severe.

My experiences have made me think more and more about the parallels between ourselves and the lives of wild animals - how we are so similar in our motivations and actions yet in such different circumstances.

In Uganda I saw tree climbing lions sleeping contently in the afternoon sun. Their bellies fat from the morning hunt, they barely acknowledged our presence as we drove within meters of them, and they reminded me of the satisfaction of working hard and getting your just rewards, much like the feeling you get after a good steak and glass of obnoxious red wine at the end of a stressful week at work.

In holding a stare with a young male gorilla which I blogged about before, I felt a similar connection that I hold with my brother and sister. That natural presence that has always been there, is so familiar and comforting yet difficult to explain.

The mating behaviour of the Ugandan weaver bird involves the male building a small nest on the shores of Lake Edward to attract a female. She will inspect the nest, and if the construction is deemed to be adequate will remain with the her new mate. If not the male will smash the nest and start again. Although in the extreme, and though we probably would draw the line at bulldozing our house in its pursuit, our own behaviour to get girls probably isn't a million miles away from this.

In Kenya I was lucky enough to see a cheetah meander past on it's way to a nearby water hole. And it strikes me that all of the animals that I have seen, big and small, carnivores and grazing animals, all depend on a source of water to survive. Just as we do.

I've just finished reading an inspirational book by a Kenyan environmentalist who promotes the protection of, in particular, forestry in the Congo basin to maintain the lives of millions of Africans. The destruction of this valuable natural resource and other forests across the continent has lead to diminished water supplies in neighbouring communities because rain in not absorbed into the soil, and has also changed rain patterns both within the region and globally . It has helped me understand how essential promoting environmental sustainability is within the development model to improve Africa's future as we rely on our water sources to thrive just as animals do.

Of course, there are huge differences between animal and human behaviour and societies. Our societies work on the basis of shared beliefs and cultural norms, where in the main behaviours like killing and taking from each other what is not yours are punished whereas kindness, good citizenship and hard work are rewarded.

In the developed world at least, most societies recognise that we are born with equal rights. That under international charter, we should be free from persecution regardless of race, religion, gender, sexual orientation or political opinion. For me, this conviction is what separates us from animals. This makes us human.

On Kenya's East coast I encounter the worst and best of humanity. In David Cameron's speech last week he called on developing countries to recognise gay rights under the legislative frameworks, or face a reduction or even withdrawal of aid money from the UK. Usually I disagree with anything the man says by proxy, but in this case I think he was spot on.

The reaction across the Kenyan media was scary. Politicians, writers and high profile media types came out in unison criticising the statement, saying that the UK and other donor countries should not be allowed to alter the cultural traits of the recipient country by placing restrictions on aid. But aid should have restrictions placed on it - governments with a sustained record in abusing human rights should not be able to access aid unchecked. Indeed, all development investment from donor countries must have strict conditions to ensure that the intended outcomes are properly monitored, that administration of the monies are free from corruption and that the monitoring process in transparent.

In Mombasa I meet a gay rights activist from the UK living in Kenya. She tells me that under Kenyan law, homosexuality is punishable by 14 years imprisonment. This is about the equivalent for murder, and six years more than convicted rapists can expect to receive. If any Kenyan citizen should become aware of someone who is gay, they have 24 hours to report this to the police or they face the same punishment.

Further, she tells me that gay women are subject to collective rape by the police to 'straighten them out', and others are subject to regular sexual abuse from officers when they are seen in the streets. I am filled with anger when she tells me this - no one should be subjected to this kind of persecution, regardless of what some Africans subscribe their 'culture' to be. This is clearly wrong in any context regardless.

This truly is the worst of humanity, but there are positives. People like the activists that I meet who are willing to place themselves in considerable danger to fight for the rights of oppressed minorities. Because they believe in the fundamental rights which should be afforded to all of us, not just a select few.

These people are our inspiration. They show us what humanity can be if we are prepared to fight for it. That although attitudes change as time passes, there are fundamentals which we, as a modern society, should be insisting on, not politely asking for.

One of my favourite ever quotes is "Our lives begin to end the moment we fall silent about things that matter" by Dr. Martin Luther King. I used it frequently at work, and it is with this kind of mantra that we must live our lives or else live under fear and repression from regimes with evil ideas.

We may be the same as animals in many ways, but for me this belief is what sets us apart. To fight tirelessly, and if necessary die for those ideals is a purely human trait. Only humans are able to have faith in their own species in this way. 

Perseverance

Summit view at Mount Kenya

This was my mantra for the past week:  "Left, right, left, right... Don't stop. Don't stop."

I'm just back from five gruelling days climbing Mount Kenya to raise much needed funds for the Alekii school. I was there to reach Lenana point which stands at almost 5,000 metres, the second tallest mountain in Africa after Kilimanjaro.

The mountain has a special significance in Kenya's tribal culture and political history. Kikuyu (the largest tribe in Kenya) believe that God came down to earth here, and that Mount Kenya is the throne on which he would sit. Across the region, most huts are built with the front door opening out towards the mountain, and graves are positioned so that the dead lie facing the peaks.

In the 1950's and early 1960's, during Kenya's state of Emergency towards the end of colonial rule, freedom fighters supporting the movement for independence ran to the mountain to avoid capture by the British. Tough men, they stayed in brutal conditions in caves, yet only survived because of the women in the local towns who would bravely supply them with food and supplies. When Kenya achieved independence in 1963, the national flag was raised at the top of the mountain as a gesture to those who had fought and died in the struggle.

My journey started on Monday where I met my "crew" - porter James, cook Charles and mountain guide Sammy who would accompany me to Lenana. Like all of the men from the local area working on the mountain, they are weathered and incredibly strong. Without their knowledge, perseverance and drive tourists like me would not be make the journey with a week's supply of food and equipment.

After some Colin McRae-esque (RIP) driving along muddy roads, we reach the Sirimon gate to the mountain which stands at 2,600m. By this point I could already feel the air thinning as we set off for the first camp, Old Moses. It was night when we finally arrived, and the combination of my uncomfortable hired hiking boots, wet gear and the onset on altitude sickness made me rethink what a significant challenge this was really going to be. Paracetemol and Imodium were to become two of my best new friends over the course of the week.

Over the next two days, as we climbed higher to the summit approach camp, Shipton, we would walk up to seven hours a day through the cold and rain. At night temperatures would fall well below freezing and the huts had no heating or electricity so it was impossible to properly dry out your gear before getting back into it the next morning.

On Thursday, the summit climb began at 3am, and a group of around ten set out with head torches looking like a gang of miners. This part of the expedition is the most dangerous, and just a few months back a girl had lost her footing and fallen over a ledge and sadly died. Later Sammy would tell me that someone dies every year at this part of the climb.

The ascent was extremely steep, at first on loose scree and then onto snow and ice as the temperature dropped rapidly. After two hours I had lost the feeling in both my hands and the cold burned my nose. My head torch began to flicker on and off as we rounded ledges with intimidating drops.

As the sun began to rise just before six we began our final approach to the summit. The rocks became steeper and it took all our concentration to remain on the path.

The feeling of exhausted, drunken euphoria is hard to convey in words, but even on an overcast day reaching the view from the roof of Africa was simply awe inspiring. I don't think I've ever seen anything as beautiful. At one point, just for a moment, the rising sun caught the tip of the neighbouring peak which shone like a beacon across the morning sky.

In all over five days we walked the equivalent of around one and a half marathons in freezing wet conditions. I'd climbed Mount Kinabalu a few years back so thought I knew what I was getting myself in for, but this was really on another level.

With lots of time to think over the week, I began to question the perseverance of the climbers. What was their drive? Why did they choose to do this?

For the tourists I think they came under one of two camps. There were the (mostly German) outdoor enthusiasts who were there just to be among nature, pure and simple. There were also tourists who wanted a unique badge to take home to their friends and families, to say proudly  that they'd conquered the mountain and show off their pictures.

For the locals, porters and cooks carrying enormous bags and heavy equipment, this was their livelihood. Their families depended on them to make it through to put food on the table or pay for their children's schooling.

In a similar way for the freedom fighters, persevering on the mountain was survival. Both for them as individuals and for a movement to Independence, which not only their families but their whole country depended on.

For me, this was definitely a challenge to raise money for the school. I thought about some of the kids that I'd spent time with on Rusinga at times when I wanted to give up. To get to the top was the aim, nothing more and nothing less.

As we left the gate on the final day, Sammy said to me that you go up the mountain one person, and another one comes down. I think this is certainly true in part, for everyone learns about themselves by testing how much they can endure. We grow in confidence and stature as we find out that we are capable of so much. And we realise that in life, things that are hard to achieve are worth our determination because they make us bigger people.

I like this quote which opens the door to all possibilities. "With ordinary talent and extraordinary perseverance, all things are attainable." We should take this view and continually challenge ourselves. 

PS - HUGE Thank you to everyone who has already pledged to donate towards Alekii's new school building. So far we have raised over £1,500 which is fantastic, but there is still so much more to do. If you can, please pledge a donation at the bottom of the blog. Much love. Dave x

Challenge

As I write this I can hear children singing their songs as the golden morning light paints a wonderful picture over the Alekii school here on Rusinga Island. My favourite is about their morning routine:

"...I brush my teeth/

I comb my hair/

I have a cup to tea/

I run to schoooooooooool!..."

This always makes me smile. Even at this tender age I think they appreciate how lucky they are to be getting an education at all, there are so many more who sit idly by the beaches watching the world go by, passive observers.

Most of them are orphans, with many of them having lost parents to HIV/AIDS which has ripped the community apart. Despite all the hardship they have been through, they are full of youthful joy and energy, and you can see their various talents shining through in the form of academic ability, artistic temperament and athletic ability. Each pupil is good at something, and they are rightly proud of it.

Sadly, the building which they are taught in is decaying. An old shack of a house, wind blows through the rafters and the old iron sheet roof creeks anxiously. Cracks big enough to put your arm through streak the walls inside. Many of the parents talk about their concern that one day the house will collapse and their children will be trapped inside or worse, that the children would be crushed.

The Alekii Self Help Group, a community based organisation who maintain the school through their own donations have confirmed that they need to be out  January  next year, and so have just two months to raise $8,000 to build a new school of three new classrooms which would allow more pupils to enrol whilst providing a safe environment for the children to learn in.

Mount Kenya

It's for this reason that I've decided to do some fundraising of my own. Next week I will be climbing Mount Kenya, the second tallest mountain in Africa after Kilimanjaro. It is a difficult five day climb with altitude sickness being likely, and the small rains have just started so I expect to have to battle through the weather, but it will be worth it if we can raise some money and get this new school built.

 So far this has been something of a one-way monologue from me, but now I want you to get involved. I'm going to get the fundraising started with £300 and I'd like to try and raise £2,000 eventually. If you can, please support me in doing this for Alekii. 100% of all donations go direct to the construction of the new school, there is zero administration in this charity as no one draws a salary, and all materials are donated by members. Please post your name and donation amount in the comments field underneath, and I'll transfer on your behalf.

Pamela

You'll be helping children like Pamela, who lost her parents to HIV/AIDS early in her life. She lives with her aunt and uncle who already have three children. With just a fisherman's salary between them,  they would not be able to pay the government school fees and she would not receive an education at all. If the Alekii school is forced to close, it will be children like Pamela who will miss out on a critical stage of their development, and be severely limited in reaching their potential for the rest of their lives.

If you can, please support Alekii today by sponsoring me in this challenge. I guarantee that your donation will be wisely spent, and to these children it could mean the difference between achieving their potential and a life consigned to poverty.

Thank you all.

Simplicity

So this is village life. I am in the beautiful Rusinga Island on the shores of Lake Victoria in South West Kenya. I arrived by boat after a seven hour bus ride from Uganda about a week ago, just as the sun set over the volcanic hills that dominate this impressive landscape. I am here to volunteer for the Alekii Self Help Group, a community based organisation who run a school for around 50 vulnerable children on the island.

As the light faded, I took a motorbike taxi (boda boda) through Mbita which is the local town. Women fan their fires by the road side preparing their evening meal, whilst men cast off into the lake on small wooden fishing boats which look impossibly fragile yet seem to perform their task ably.

As we passed the outskirts of the town we are plunged into darkness, and bounce along a dusty dirt track which leads to my new home. I am introduced to my family, mama and baba who are to be my surrogate parents for three weeks, and brothers and sisters who greet me affectionately.

They live in a humble yet welcoming house. Inside, light warms the interior from gas lamps, and I am drawn the shadows of framed pictures and certificates of achievement which are proudly hung with nails and string around the living room. There is no running water or electricity here, and the latrine is something to behold.

My shower

My routine here is straight forward. The family donkey as my alarm clock, I am up around 5.30 every morning to train with my new brother Evans who is a semi-professional kick boxer. We run under the sunrise as roosters sing their morning songs, pass bemused villagers who rarely encounter mzungo (white person) in this corner of Kenya before I learn how to fight. Evans tells me that he had the opportunity to compete in national championships some years ago, but the family could not afford the bus fare to Mombassa on the other side of the country so sadly he couldn't go.

In the mornings I work with Francis Opiyo who is the project co-ordinator for the group, a skilled web developer and computer technician who leads on much of the work the Alekii group does. He is passionate about education, and the plight faced by many children on the island.

HIV/AIDS has decimated the local population, with estimates of 40% infection rate being given by the government. This is the worst affected region in the country for this terrible disease, and it has resulted in a huge number of orphaned children who face challenges in accessing food and essential primary education. 70% of pupils at the school are total orphans, and without the Alekii school, it is highly likely that these young, bright children would not receive any schooling at all.

And we are working hard. In a chance meeting with the local District Development Officer, we are made aware of a grant opportunity for innovative projects which support the millennium goals. The only problem is that the deadline is the next morning, so we work through the night on a proposal for $20,000 for a sustainable farm which would provide income and food for the school and its pupils. We find out whether we were successful this month.

More pressingly, I am also working on an emergency appeal for a new school building as the Department of Health have recommended that the school move premises immediately as the current building is not up to standard. At present there are not funds for this, and it would leave the pupils without education as most cannot afford the small fees levied by the local government primary school. 

In the afternoons I return to the school to coach the football team, borrowing boots which are two sizes too small yet preferable to attempting to play football in my clown-esque running shoes. I've realised that there is no better sound in the world than children laughing and screaming as the chase the ball, and they celebrate like Premier League stars when they score which makes me laugh.

Evenings are for family meals of fresh fish and ugali. and I sit outside with baba listening to how he sees the world. He is wise, and has lived through droughts,  the struggle for independence, and more recently the violence which marred the 2007/8 election.

The family are not rich by any means, but compared to many of the children at the school who are sometimes forced to survive on just a chapatti a day for food, they are comfortable.  Before retirement, both baba and mama were teachers, and their passion for education has led them to also be involved in the Alekii school. The brothers and sisters work hard as boda drivers, hotel managers or around the home where they grow maize and wheat as well as delicious bananas, pineapples and oranges.

They are rightly proud of their children who are educated and intelligent, and of the success they have made of the family home. They are, in the main, happy people who are a joy to be around and I feel privileged to be welcomed into their family.

Here I am fit and healthy, and I laugh heartily every day with brilliant people who have learned to appreciate what they have, rather than wish for what they do not.

"Simplify, simplify" is a Henry David Thoreau quote which is appropriate here. I think he meant that to be happy and contented we should strip our lives of the extras which in reality are not important. By doing this, we learn more about ourselves, each other, and the world we live in, which is a gift that we should treasure. This is village life. 

We are rich

"We are rich because we have life" said Mavis who works at the volunteer centre, Uganda Lodge, which I have been staying at for the last two weeks. A simple truth, but an important one. This post is dedicated to some of the brilliant people, and wonderful experiences I have had over the last two weeks.

 Jennifer - woman's group

"Before we were in darkness. Now we make a profit."

Jennifer, who is 34, invited me to her home in the Ruhanga village in South West Uganda. She is one of the leaders of a group of nine women who run a business together. They have a small stall by a busy road where they sell hand crafts, rugs, fruit and vegetables.

Jennifer received training from the Ruhanga Community Development Network in financial planning which allowed the group to understand how to record and analyse their financial performance to ensure they remain in profit. They currently generate a decent profit each week which is distributed between each member.

When I met Jennifer I was struck with her huge sense of pride in what she and her group had achieved. In this picture, she proudly shows off her certificate which she gained by completing her training. My work with Let Them Help Themselves has centred on fundraising for a new vocational training centre which will hopefully deliver similar skills to hundreds of entrepreneurs in the Rahunga community.

Wild gorillas

Uganda is home to approximately half of the world's wild gorilla population. Last week I visited Bwindi Impenetrable Forest where I had the privilege of sharing an hour with a family of seven or eight beautiful gorillas living in their natural habitat.

Two experiences jump out. First, we are briefed not to run if the gorillas charge us. "They are just playing" smiles our ranger to us as if they were puppies rather than animals with the strength to snap your neck with one hand. If you retreat, they will sense your fear and attack.

Sure enough, when I was standing at the front of the group just five meters from a young male he charged through the undergrowth, smashing trees as he ran towards us. A German tourist next to shrieked and ran behind me while I yelled at the top of my voice 'Stand still or we'll all be killed!". That said, I did stand firm and the gorilla came within about one or two meters of me before walking away.

Second, and less adrenalin inducing, I asked the ranger if maintaining eye contact was a sign of aggression. He reassured me that this was fine, and I was able to hold a friendly stare with another young male for about three or four minutes. This family had only recently been habituated, and I think he was as fascinated with me as I was with him.

When the time came to leave I waved him goodbye, and he immediately rolled over and dramatically covered his eyes with his forearm as if to say "Just go then". Maybe it was just coincidence, but I like think he was as sad to see me go as I was to leave him.

Justice - local businessman

Justice also received business training through the Ruhanga Community Development Network. He now runs a successful business which is a hair salon in the local town. He proudly talked me through how he had constructed the small shack with an iron roof. Inside the salon was decorated with political posters, and a radio stands tall over a bench where local men sit and discuss the events of the day.

Justice also runs a successful agricultural business, and is the chair of the community development network which will oversee the new centre. Energetic and intelligent, here is proof that the way forward for developing countries like Uganda comes from empowering people, rather than creating a culture where people are dependent on handouts and aid.

Isaac - pupil at Ruhanga Community Nursery and Primary School

Isaac is studying at the Ruhanga Development primary school. He lives close to the school and walks in every day which takes about half an hour each way. He lives at home with his mother, brother who is eight and his sister who is seven. When I met him, he is bright and happy, and I am struck by his huge grin which is making me smile even as I write this.

When asked about what his favourite thing about school is, he said that loves playing with his friends at break time. The school has a playing field, but it is full of potholes, stones and uneven ground making it impossible to play any organised sport on. I think we all remember something positive about playing sport as kids. For me it was always football in primary school which was as good as religion for us when we were 10.

Working with a volunteer with a background in teaching children sport,  I put together a fundraising email which raised over £1,500 to be used to level the playing field an install new equipment and a playground for the school.

They will now be able to introduce sport into their lessons, and I feel proud that something I did will benefit hundreds of children for years to come.

I think that what Mavis meant when she said that we are rich because we have life is that we have choices, that we are free. And that is precious above all else. We are free to better ourselves, show kindness or give ourselves to others. Free to love and also to lose love, but then free to grow and heal.

Satre said that 'We are condemned to be free'. The ultimate paradox, he meant that we are responsible in an absolute sense for everything that we do. The freedom that comes with being human is not something we choose, it is our humanness.

Freedom that we have gives rise to the choices that we make, and consequently the experiences that we have. Combined, these are life. And it's awesome. 

Witness

Witness was a four year old girl who was a pupil at the Ruhanga Community Nursery & Primary School. Volunteer teachers who spent time with her described her as quiet and attentive, a good student who wanted to learn. She was sadly killed in a car accident on Tuesday 13th September as she crossed a busy road near her school. There was torrential rain at the time, and I assume that the driver either couldn't see her or stop in time.

This photo is Witness just a few hours before she died. In a playground of over 200 children for some reason I chose to photograph her and her friends. I found her to be a popular girl, and her classmates surrounded her for pictures and were obviously very fond of her.

I printed and framed these pictures and visited Witness's family today where I met her mother and twin brother, both of whom had been at the scene when the accident happened. Their home was simple but beautiful, furnished with throws of colourful patterns and smiling photographs of weddings and birthdays proudly displayed on their living room wall.

Of course, her mother was grief-stricken, but there was a powerful dignity in her even in mourning which was moving to be around. I found myself saying that I had come to offer these photos because they belonged to her rather than me. In a strange way I felt like I was returning her daughter's photos rather than offering them to her for the first time. I can't really explain why though.

Tragically, this is the 8th child that has died on this stretch of road, and the director of the charity Let Them Help Themselves has written an open letter to the Minister of Works in Uganda to introduce traffic calming measures which would hopefully prevent such accidents in the future.

Small gestures like offering a bereaved mother another chance to see her daughter one last time as she truly was, happy and healthy, means something to me.

You might get an impression from these two posts that it is a dark time here, yet probably the reverse is true. I will write about happier moments next time, but for now Witness, rest in peace. 

Into Africa

This is the start of my journey. I have arrived in Uganda where I begin my three month tour of East Africa. Along the way I will be blogging about my experiences volunteering at community projects helping smaller NGOs raise much needed funds for education, health and poverty alleviation projects. 

As I write this, I am surrounded by darkness with only the light from my laptop and a head torch to see my keyboard as the power is out. I am at the Ruhanga community development project in South West Uganda which comprises of a volunteer centre and primary school who's aim is to deliver a quality of life to people in the region. The projects are funded and organised by charity Let Them Help Themselves.

There are good people here. Both western volunteers and the local staff who work tirelessly for the young people the project supports. There is genuine kindness in all of them which is wonderful to be around.

My first job was to photograph a water sanitation project that the charity had recently completed the first phase for. A piping system was installed at the top of a nearby hill, and provides clean water uncontaminated by animals or humans to thousands of people in the village. Importantly, there is a tap installed at the local school meaning that children can access clean drinking water throughout the day. For those who know me, taking photos of smiling kids able to drink water that won't kill them or make them sick was a dream first assignment for me, and I'm pretty happy with what I came away with. Hopefully these will inspire the funder to release more money to complete the project on the other side of the valley making clean water available to thousands more.

 Today I visited the school for the first time properly. Around 200 children attend the school to learn basic English and maths in a basic yet functional building which has  five classrooms. I sat in on a class of about 30 bright and enthusiastic kids who loved  having their picture taken. I interviewed a few of them for case studies, as well as the head teacher who is a gentle guy who only has three years teaching experience, yet now is competently running a school. 

The main task I've been set is to develop a funding proposal for a new school building which will deliver vocational training and business skills to young people. This kind of job creation is essential where even with a school certificate finding a job is extremely difficult. In the long term the charity aims to open a bakery, craft centre and bee keeping facilities to further allow entrepreneurs to make their own income for themselves. I am proud to be part of this.

Later in the day, after I had written up my notes and edited my pictures, tragic news reached us that a four year old girl had been killed by a car on the nearby road. The school is situated very close to the main road which links two major cities, and buses and 4x4s hurtle down it at frightening speeds. A medical student volunteer was at the scene, but nothing could be done to save the child and she died at the side of the road in the pouring rain side by side with her mother and twin brother.

One needless death for one so young and innocent is too many, yet with the child mortality rate region at 40%, sadly far too many of the bright stars I have met will also fade before they have had their chance to shine.

The death has affected us differently. For the local staff death is common, and there have already been three funerals attended for relatives within the last week alone. For some of the volunteers, it has put into doubt whether they can have any lasting effect on these communities, and question whether they have actually achieved anything in their time spent in Africa.

Life is cruel and unfair. There is no doubt about that. Yet although we cannot change what happens to us, we can try and control our reactions. For me, this event has made me see how important supporting groups like these are who can actually make a real difference in people's lives. If we do not like the way the world is, we have the power to change it. Tragedies like these bring into perspective what happens if we do not.