Of Service and Self-Reflection

Working for Pepo la Tumaini is as much about service as it is about self-reflection. The work gets to the core of you: who you are, what you’re made of and what needs improvement. It calls for self-sacrifice, for selflessness, for letting go of one’s ego, and this is not an easy process. Yet it begs the question: “How can we serve others if we cannot first forget ourselves?”

Our young British friend, Rupert, was with us for a couple of weeks. During that time he had a birthday and the Pepo community prepared a coming of age ceremony for him and all of us wuzungu. The event seemed to sum up what working with A Wind of Hope is all about.

We were led together in long robes, staffs in hand, brought through an extremely boisterous crowd of Turkana grandmothers singing and dancing with the orphans yelling and screaming and swinging their staffs and sticks in our direction, as if to scare us back to childhood. We were told to sit cross-legged on the gazebo floor as the young men charged us again and again, pretending to strike yet coming inches from our foreheads. Then, the young women served us tea and circled around us in a sort of playful flirtation, brushing their hands across our heads. We were not to make eye-contact with them.

Rupert was then placed at center stage. He was given two cakes and told to choose one. One represented his past, one his future. Rupert confidently snatched his past and tossed it aside. “Why did you throw away your past?” asked Khadija, as if she knew not only the answer to the question, but why that answer would be wrong. “I need to look forward,” said Rupert, a little unsure of himself. “Yes,” said Khadija. “We must look forward. But we can never forget our past. If we are running from battle and someone is left behind, will we forget that person?”

Rupert was then asked to cut the cake he had chosen. He diced it into small, bite-size pieces and was told he must serve it to the assemblage. He circled the inside of the gazebo, offering the platter to each and all. Some politely took a piece of cake. Others did not. “You must serve all of them,” said Khadija, calmly. Rupert returned to the ones who refused to eat. He tried again. One young boy shook his head. Rupert tried again. The boy shot his mouth up in disgust. He tried again. This time the boy got angry and made grunting noises. Rupert tried something new. This time, when he offered the platter, he did so on his knees. The boy took the piece of cake.

He then began to feed the Turkana elders, but Khadija scolded him: “You cannot offer the platter like that to them! You must show proper respect.” So he bent a little, and offered the platter with both hands, head peering downwards. This time they accepted.

Others he had to sit with; with some, he had to leave the piece of cake behind; still others required the utmost love and patience. The message was simple enough: Along the path of service there are many we will come across. Some will accept our work with gratitude, others will refuse, some must be paid a certain respect and others will need tact and patience. A simple lesson, yet infinitely profound. This is what coming of age is all about: in our childhood we only look inward (what do people do for us?). We are very selfish and dependent. Yet, when we reach adulthood we must begin to look outward. This is the true meaning of becoming an adult: turning from selfishness to selflessness, from dependence to servitude.

On my last day in Isiolo I received a final lesson from Khadija. A few days earlier we had spoken. I was feeling a lot of stress and pressure at the time, striving to fully train and prepare the two community banks before I returned home. Khadija told me not too worry so much, that I can easily “get caught up in the world.” I pondered this: “Get caught up in the world”… I wasn’t too sure what that meant. Then, on my last day in Isiolo, shortly after I woke up that morning, I was meditating on what she had said, reflecting on the past couple of weeks and how I had been so single-mindedly focused on my work. I realized that I was neglecting the more important duties: Saying my proper goodbyes, laughing and playing with the children, drumming with the men, sitting and chatting with the women. Basically, spending time with the people I was purporting to serve.

As soon as I discovered that insight, I said my goodbyes to Khadija. “Thank you for your service,” she said. “We appreciate all you have done and hope you will return someday.” “But,” she continued. “Don’t forget the small things, Jordan…. The people.” I was amazed. She had completely confirmed the realization I had just arrived at. Indeed, in order to serve—just like in the ceremony—we must be patient and loving, placing more emphasis on the relationships than on the actual work. How could Rupert have ever offered that cake without first establishing trust with the people he was serving?

I left Isiolo pensive yet satisfied, knowing that my service had been meager but that I had learned a great deal. God willing, next time I can put into practice some of what Khadija and the people of Isiolo taught me.

The Two Faces of Development

Posting by Jordan

Beloved friends,

Apologies in advance for the essay-style blog entry! Hope you have the patience to make it through. As always, would love to hear any comments or reflections.....

If only the staff at one of these giant international development organizations could spend a day in the life of Khadija, or Stella, Mr. Konyango or Nassir, Yussif or anyone here at A Wind of Hope. I think it would take only one day for them to completely change their attitude. That’s usually what it takes to begin to empathize; spending time in the other person’s shoes. Yet, alas, it seems the time will never come, and these international organizations will continue to impose their rigid standards, completely oblivious of the lives of the people they hope to serve, and the daily struggles they face to perform the mundane: connecting to electricity, printing a piece of paper or making a photo-copy.

I remember one day waking up early, eager to prepare for one of my first community-banking meetings. My needs were simple: print-out a few materials for a brief workshop. Unfortunately, I came with my Western expectations. My subconscious told me: "A task like this should take no more than half an hour." Well, I think expectations are our worst enemy, because when a half hour is up, we begin to become impatient; and when an hour hits irritation comes a knocking; after two or three hours we lose all hope and rationality and either suffer in silent fury or find a way to laugh if off (usually with a touch of hysteria).

That morning I began as I usually do: move the generator to its workplace, check for kerosene and pull the crank. As often happens, our little friend remained motionless. Usually a few prayers, curses or threats will get it going, but not this morning. The hour mark hit: irritation knocking. We decided it must be the spark plug so I rode off on the WOHA motorbike, begrudgingly attempting not to speed while I pass the frantically waving children, cross the sharp rocks and dirt mounds and weave through the apathetic herds of goats and cattle. Finally, I reached the internet café, one of two in Isiolo. I decided to try printing there before I bought a new plug.

The network is slow but reliable, when the power is on. Luckily, that morning we were blessed with electricity (another thing we take for granted in the west!). Unfortunately, after preparing everything, the printer wouldn’t work… Two hours have passed now and I feel the first inclination of hysteria….

Well, simple enough: I go to the local petrol station, buy a spark plug and head home, confidently telling myself that I can start the little red Honda and print from my laptop. Shortly after reassuring myself I feel an uneasy sensation, a gentle swaying, almost like driving through sand…. Flat tire… Almost exactly half-way between home and the petrol station! And believe it or not it was but one of three that I would have in the day. The same motorbike, the same tire…. Well, if nothing else, I made pretty good friends of the local mechanics. But, I had to quickly leave behind my expectations of half an hour as the sun began to near the horizon and I was only then ready to print my handful of pages.

I don’t mention this to complain (however much you may be thinking otherwise!). I mention this to bring to light some of the challenges that the devoted staff must deal with here. Truly, when these people are occupied in other activities, lives are lost. And I would guess that around 30 to 40% of the work here is spent on these types of remedial tasks--not because of lack of knowledge, skill or capacity, but simply because they don't have the resources we take for granted in the US.

Khadija and the staff of WOHA recently met with one of their main donors. The relationship is a difficult one, as is usually the case between a donor and a recipient. As much as the latter may wish to do things their own way, ultimately, they are dependent on the former. It is often a demeaning sort of relationship. You would be aghast at some of the stories of what these grassroots organizations are forced to do because their donor wanted something done in a particular way. But the donors have all of the cards, all of the bargaining power, with none of the liabilities. Most crucially, they do not have to face the people that their policies effect.

Khadija, on the other hand, and everyone at WOHA, must face these people on a daily basis. Indeed, they are these people; One with the community. So when a policy is changed, it is Khadija that must share the news. This was the case when a major donor recently decided that they needed more accountability. Now, anyone who eats their nutritional support has to not only sign a form with each meal, but provide passport photos as well. I wonder if this organization has ever visited the people they are supporting, most of who live in mud huts without running water or electricity. How can they sign their names if they are illiterate and can’t even afford pens and paper? Khadija brought this up with the elders from Malitano and they replied by saying that they would rather go without the food than deal with all of the hassle.

The problem with development, as I see it, is that you have two worlds: you have the world of the grassroots organizations, the roll-up your sleeves type of workers who come from the communities they hope to change. Then, you have the large international organizations and the expatriates, mostly from Western countries, who live by different standards, have very different lifestyles and carry many different expectations (as I have learned!). Unfortunately, the Western organizations use their standards to evaluate the grassroots organizations. And since they cannot be there to really monitor the situation, they create fanciful goals and unrealistic expectations. They use a western mode of evaluation, a western form of record-keeping, a western style of management. But when will we become humble enough to listen to these people—maybe even learn from them—and to simply help them to obtain the resources they need to continue doing what they do best: caring for and serving the people they love.

Until next time,

jordan

Little by Little

Posting by Nyla

Hello Friends of Mama Hope,

Last year I was brought to Pepo La Tumaini through a Safari center called Wilderness Trails who brings their guests here to understand the struggles and triumphs of the local people as part of their “Wilderness” program. Since it is tourist season many groups of tourists in safari vehicles have come here. They all come here fresh off the game trails in their shorts and big hats, cameras around their necks. They walk through here as if on a museum tour looking at the people as if they are in displays marked,“Orphans”, “AIDS Patients”, and “Malnourished Man”. I understand and sympathize with these feelings because I was once on this tour myself and its hard not to see things this way if you are just passing through. We get so desensitized by images of the devastation happening in Africa that even when it is in our faces we still tend to numb ourselves to it.

When I saw a safari vehicle roll up for the third time I asked if I could go around with the tourists and show them the health clinic being built and show them what is possible when you let an experience change you. I tried to stress to them that these people are simply in this type of poverty because they do not have access to the resources that we do. The best way to do our part to help people in need is to directly support their community based efforts by working in partnership with them to meet their goals on their terms.

As they were leaving one of the men told me that his daughter had come up to him after seeing the future health clinic and said “Dad, she really does not have anything to gain from building this clinic she is simply helping because she can!” I'm glad that they left with the feeling of what is possible when you do what you can. Doing what you can is such a simple concept that some times we forget when we focus on all that we can't do. Hopefully she will go back to her home and do what she can!

I know that obviously we can't solve all the world's problems but if we all did what we could, we'd be a lot closer.

Until next time,

Nyla

The Basics

Posting by Bryce

The wind in Isiolo isn't a force of nature, it's a movement of human will. It rolls through the desert with all our intents...whether they wish harm, give hope or await for either.
On our third day at Pepo la Tumaini Jangwani we took part in a food distribution. Maize was given to some local tribes whose land was unfarmable due to lack of water. It was amazing to see how happy the people were to receive a few pounds of dry food. We soon learned that this experience was a precursor to a coming crisis. That same day UNICEF called a surprise security meeting
to inform Pepo of policy changes.
For the past two and a half years UNICEF has been providing food to over a thousand households through Pepo la Tumaini.
This constant supply has lead to a dependence on UNICEF. The policy change has dictated that the food be no longer supplied to those over five years of age. Hence, the food these people have depended on is gone.
To compound the problem, the Kenyan government has been giving out free AIDS medicine, which requires proper nutrition to work properly. Given the UNICEF support, Pepo la Tumaini put a large number of HIV/AIDS patients on the medicine. Now, with the pulling out of nutritional support, the majority of the patients will relapse causing an uncontainable amount of severe AIDS cases numbering in the thousands.
The looming crisis helped to remind us that we can only move forward if
our most basic needs are met. Having made relationships with the
people who will soon be left in the wind and its intents, I'm coming
to a realization. I have found the sense of injustice that fuels so many
documentary photographers.
I've heard the people of Isiolo referred to as the forgotten people.
Driving to their camps, I might have believed it. But when we saw how
they cared for each other and the positive change Pepo la Tumaini is
bringing, we realize that they have only been forgotten by the
affluent. We can so easily forget the trust that interpersonal
connection brings and the ease at which human dignity can be violated
by turning one another into statistics.
Over the past few days, I've come to understand the importance of
community based efforts. Only by being one of the people you are
helping do you understand their needs. The work at Pepo la Tumaini
Jangwani is both inspiring and heartbreaking. Everyday Khadija and
the other volunteers come to terms with the mortality of hope. And
everyday they find that moment of happiness from the people they help.
It's a moment that is just as meaningful as any report, but as
intangible as the wind.

Jambo from Jordan

Jambo! Sorry for having such a late first entry. I'm Jordan, research coordinator for Mama Hope. I've spent four days in Isiolo now – in the middle of the Kenyan desert – and it feels like every day is a lesson in life, relationships and compassion. On arrival, we had the joy of
meeting 20 or so orphans, all completely well-mannered and
inquisitive. We had a wonderful time chatting about Kenya, the U.S. and
their future careers. Selflessly, they all wanted to give back to the
community, as doctors, nurses, scientists and teachers.

Yet, the fun stopped when we learned that the vast majority of the
children are HIV-positive. Then, on the second or third day we began
visiting the HIV-positive adults. We met a new friend, Mambia, who was
in a very poor state: extremely skinny and barely able to get out of
bed. But, despite the sad physical condition, he still had a very
strong spirit and was to find the energy to slowly get out of bed and
share his story with us. Apparently, he was abandoned by his family and
left alone in a small, dilapidated little shack with neighbors who not
only ignore him but even threw rocks at his house when he first
arrived. The worst part, however, was how he got AIDS – not through
carelessness or addiction – but by being sodomized during tribal
conflict.

After visiting Mambia and another HIV-positive woman, Bryce and I felt
our energies were completely drained. Walking in silence, we were taken to the orphanage where the children were sharing a song with some American tourists: "am I just a number in your fax and files...","life is so cold and you need a friend...", "...life with HIV/AIDS..."

However difficult these first lessons were, we've also learned the
power of the simple things: playing a game with the orphans, sharing a
moment with a new friend, bringing some milk and sugar to Mambia. In
fact, after just a bit of food and medicine, we visited Mambia again
today and he was up and walking about, visibly improved after just 2
days. Although the situation is saddening, the spirit of the people
provides hope that things can improve.

Until next time, promising a more cheerful entry,
Jordan