As I type this latest blog, the rain is pounding on the metal roof of my house. I am sitting on my couch surrounded by kids. There is a little girl on my left, a little boy snuggling on the right, and Dale is on the end, still plugging away at his math assignment for the day. The little girl is singing to herself, but the deafening noise of the rain on the iron sheets is drowning out everything. I am incredibly happy just to be here in Kenya, after I nearly got stranded in Uganda with immigration complications.
I don't want to say too much about the situation with immigration, as it is still something of a work in progress, but the scare in Uganda has significantly altered our future plans. It now appears that it will be necessary to take my two boys back to the USA every six months, and then return to Kenya if I want to keep my family together... at least until the time that Ishmael and I have been married for 3 years. After the 3-year mark Ishmael will be eligible to adopt the boys, making them legitimate dependants, and therefore eligible for dependant passes. (Currently, Kenya does not recognise step-children as dependants.) After the same 3 year period, I should also be eligible to apply for dual citizenship, and I could also apply for passes on the boys behalf.
Its a frustrating and rather heart breaking situation. The expense of flying back and forth to the USA is huge. I am desperately hoping that Ishmael will be granted a tourist visa so that he can travel to the USA with us, and that I will be able to find some seasonal work to help with the financial strain. But while we're away from Kenya, what will happen to our farm and our animals? Will we lose everything we've worked so hard to establish?
This has been a hard lesson for me in "let go and let God". I have to trust that God in heaven knows what He is doing, and how he will work this situation for our ultimate good. There has to be some reason for all this craziness, I just can't see it yet. In the mean time, I am determined to treasure every precious moment I have with my family here, and every amazing gift that life in Kenya has offered me... including these two beautiful African kids who have by now fallen asleep to the sound of the rain, with me as their pillow. (I've included a picture of one of my sleeping companions, obviously taken when he was awake!)
This blog post is a little more personal.
All of my life I have been morbidly obese. I tried everything under the sun to try and cure myself of this "problem". I tried every diet, I calculated "points", counted carbs, and restricted calories. I went vegetarian. I went vegan. I went raw-vegan. I exercised fanatically: walking, hiking, biking, swimming, running, belly dance, yoga, and my personal favorite - karate. I think I was the most physically fit fat person you ever met. How many other 300 pound women do you know who can RUN a 5k? But it was all for nothing. The scale never budged more than 5 lbs in either direction. My diabetes remained dangerously out-of-control, and I suffered terribly with chronic pain, asthma, migraines, depression and anxiety no matter how fiercely I followed my health regiment.
And then I came to Kenya. By the time I set foot on the African continent I had made peace with my body, and I had resolved to just make the best of it and try to be happy in my own skin. No more restrictive diets, no more fanatical exercise programs. At times I felt like a circus freak-show. (I already stick out because I'm white, and then to add extreme obesity made me a real oddity.) But by and by something miraculous started to happen. I can't tell you the when and where and how, because I never set foot on a scale for my entire first trip to Kenya. But I started to notice that my shorts were falling down, and my tank-tops were sagging to the point of indecency. One day I got ready for church and dressed in my ONE very nice skirt-blouse-suit outfit, which has served me faithfully and fit perfectly for about 7 years. But after I pulled on the skirt and reached for the matching blouse - the skirt just slithered back down around my ankles.
The last time I weighed myself (I had to pay 5 shillings to step on a set of scales) I had lost 120 lbs in a year and a half. Without trying. That was of course BEFORE I got pregnant, and I don't know what I weigh now, but I'm assuming its about the same. I don't think I qualify as "morbidly obese" any more. I think I am now merely "over-weight" according to medical standards. However, as this is the weight my body chose for itself, I think its safe to assume this is a normal, healthy weight for me.
SO what's different about Kenya?
Well, the food, for starters.
Almost everything is eaten in its natural, whole-food state. Nothing is processed, and even "processed" food is almost entirely chemical free. Imagine picking up a loaf of bread in the supermarket and reading the ingredients. "wheat flour, water, salt, yeast, sodium bicarbonate." Five ingredients. Have you read the ingredient list on a loaf of bread in the USA lately? Because of the primitive shipping industry in Kenya, its impossible to ship foods long distances and keep them fresh... so what you are buying is usually locally grown, and picked the night before its taken to market - carried there on the back of a bicycle, if not on someone's head. Staple foods are simple, and highly nutritious: Sweet potatoes, yams, bananas (the unsweet kind for cooking, as well as the sweet kind for fresh-eating) mangoes, pineapples, collard greens, cassava, beans, cowpeas, mung beans, rice, corn, Irish potatoes, oranges, cabbages, a variety of indigenous green vegetables, spinach, guavas, avocados, tomatoes and onions.
Meat isn't consumed daily, nor is it consumed in the huge quantities that we enjoy in the USA. Its usually coming from a locally raised grass fed cow, sheep, goat, pig, free range chicken, duck or green-fed rabbit which is slaughtered by a local slaughter house and then sold by the local butcher, or more often, slaughtered and prepared by your own family. Refridgeration is rare, especially in these rural areas where there is no electrical service, therefore food is bought and consumed daily, or else dried and preserved naturally. Smoked/dried fish is another favorite source of protein.
Junk food is here, invading from the West, but its expensive and generally reserved for special occasions like Christmas or Easter. However, some things are sacred, and you better believe I faithfully buy at least one bar of Cadbury chocolate every time we venture into one of the larger towns! My diabetes remains "cured", the only problem now being the occasional "low" but NOT ONCE have I been too high in the last year. Most of my aches and pains and complaints have resolved themselves, or at least make only rare and infrequent appearances, and for that I am thanking God. I live a busy, active life, but I no longer make myself crazy with punishing exercise routines or starvation diets.
Life is good.
According to Abaluhya (Luhya) culture, when a young man wants to venture into adulthood, his parents support him in several ways. Primarily they allow him to build his first (usually temporary) home within the safe confines of the family compound. This small house is built with mud walls and either a straw or iron sheet roof. Later, when he has established himself well in life, his father will give him a portion of the family farm where he can build his permanent home and raise his crops and livestock if he so chooses.
My husband Ishmael and I are also following this tradition. Our three room house (two bedrooms and a sitting room) is made in the traditional mud-style. We have no kitchen, as all of our cooking is done outdoors over a charcoal jiko (or alternatively, over firewood.) Our toilet is a pit-latrine with a curtain for a door, and our shower is a lean-to behind the house, with walls made from banana leaves and no roof at all. Like most of our surrounding neighbors we have no access to electricity (there aren't even lines this way yet) and no running water. We fetch our water from the near-by well. (Many thanks to the beautiful American friends who helped us construct this well. You know who you are and may God bless you so much!) Prior the well, we had to hike 1/2 a mile to a dirty spring to fetch our water. The well water is clean and safe. Water is carried from the source in 20 liter jerrycans ON THE HEAD. (Not by me, obviously! I'd break my poor, American neck!) Right now, I guess you could say that life is something like a perpetual camping trip. We do have a solar-power system which allows me to charge my computer, the cellphones, and gives us lights at night. Thank God for that!
We have already begun farming Ishmael's portion of land, although for now the boundaries are approximate. We have not yet raised the funds needed to have the piece officially surveyed, and then to pay the one-time property tax so that we can get our own title deed to the piece. I am happy to report that my husband has DECLINED to sign another 6 year contract with the sugar company. (Someday I will write a separate blog about the evils of the sugar company and how they are misusing farmers!) He has chosen instead to plant his own crops: maize (corn), beans, sukuma wiki (collards), and tomatoes.
Ishmael and I have an on-going debate over organic vs. chemical farming. I'm pushing for a 100% organic farm. However, organic is almost unheard of here. Quite the opposite, the locals have been indoctrinated to believe that without chemical fertilisers, it is virtually impossible to harvest anything. There is some truth to that. The soil here has been completely depleted by decades and decades of chemically sustained mono-agriculture (namely sugar canes.) On top of that, the soil is acidic, clay heavy, and prone to erosion in the heavy rains. I contend however that the soil can be re-built so that chemical-free farming is possible. Ishmael is still sceptical, and he refuses to gamble on something that is completely foreign and unknown to him. He did however agree to allot me one very small plot to "experiment with."
My plot for my organic experiment is pretty pathetic. It is so barren at this point that even the weeds don't want to grow there. I've got a lot of work ahead of me if I'm ever going to convince anyone that organic is an economically viable option.
In addition to our vegetables, we also want to raise livestock. We have plans for pigs, cows and goats in the works. We had actually invested in a few goats, but recently we were forced to sell them due to a financial emergency. So, currently we have rabbits (4 adults and 6 babies), one duck and one hen. (We were with a bunch of chickens, but sadly, we ATE them faster than they reproduced!) The hen is currently sitting on a nest of fertile eggs (thanks to my mother-in-law's rooster.) The duck is also laying eggs, which should also be fertile thanks to a neighbor's drake... however there has been a great deal of confusion, and I'm not sure we'll actually get any ducklings from this batch. First we had a gender-confused rooster who tried to sit on the duck's eggs. Second, the duck and the hen decided that they both wanted to lay their eggs in the SAME nest. (That wont work, because they have different incubation periods!) The duck is still in the process of laying, while the hen is already sitting. So, every day we are lifting the hen, using a spoon to carefully remove the duck eggs to a separate nest. (never touch a duck's egg with your hand!) Third we had a problem with a puppy who dug a hole into the chicken coop and was stealing eggs. Fourth, rats have also discovered the eggs. But, we're still hoping maybe God will enlarge our flocks, despite it all!
Aside from that we also have two dogs, both of them local mutts. My big dog Josiah, and Ishmael's dog Rosie. Oh, and one crazy and mostly useless calico kitten named Callie.
