A Reason to Hold on to Hope

It has been so sweet to be back in Lwala. Of all the places that I travel, this is the one that feels the most like home. They affectionately call me Anyango Nyalwala - which means born in the morning, daughter of Lwala. It is the rare and beautiful place where my work, marriage and calling intersect with one another. I first stumbled upon this western Kenyan village in 2005 when two brothers lost their parents to HIV/AIDS, and I accompanied a friend of theirs to pay our respects. They shared with me their late father's dream for a clinic to be built in their home community. I looked across the plot of land where they hoped to someday build. This village was several miles away from any main road, without electricity or running water. I could not have imagined then, that I (and eventually my future husband) would get to be a participant in actualizing such a dream.

In the beginning years at Blood:Water Mission, we took a risk to seed fund the opening of the Lwala clinic and drill its first borehole. It was a bare-bones start, but the Lwala community pressed forward amidst a 24% HIV prevalence rate and one of the highest maternal and child death rates in the country. In 2009, they recruited James to serve as Lwala Community Alliance's Executive Director. Today, there are four American staff and nearly 100 Kenyan staff working to break down the barriers of extreme poverty and HIV/AIDS in this community. And slowly by slowly, what was once an empty lot of ambitious dreams is now occupied with a hospital, public health outreach, educational programs, a women's sewing co-op and demonstration plots for agriculture and nutrition for HIV positive people.

Today, James and I hopped on the back of a motorbike to make some home visits into the communities. As we rode slowly along the uneven dirt road, we passed familiar faces and homes that have woven their stories into ours.

We collected stories of families whose lives have been changed since the hospital and outreach programs began. We held babies whose lives would never have been possible without the medical intervention and safe delivery in the year-old maternity ward. We met mothers who have been supported and encouraged by the LCA's community health workers. We met children whose diarrheal diseases have disappeared since the rain tanks, latrines and health clubs graced their schools.

It has been my joy to return to this place over and over again for the last seven years - and to see the beautiful work of the staff and community here. This one community has become the heartbeat of our vocation and calling in Africa, and I am so thankful that we have a place in Africa that we know and love deeply, and are known and loved in return. There will continue to be the unbearable stories that will break our hearts, but side by side, they are accompanied by the ones that give us reason to hold on to hope.

Scrub, Rinse, Wring, Repeat

This morning, I awoke with a simple chore ahead of me: laundry. I have been traveling through the desert of northern Kenya and the volcanic hills of Rwanda, and have arrived in western Kenya with a pile of dirty clothes. Contrary to the ease with which we wash our clothes in the US, doing laundry in Africa is more time consuming and labor-intensive. Instead of Tide, washing machines and dryers, we use rain water, home-made soap, two basins, two hands and the equatorial sun.

The best time for washing clothes is in the early morning while the air is still cool and the clothes can dry in the mid-day sun. I filled a basin with rain water collected from a tank (thanks to Blood:Water Mission) and added a liquid soap made for washing hands, dishes and clothes. (Some of the women who had been trained by Blood:Water Mission in water, sanitation and hygiene were the ones who now make and sell the liquid soap to the community!)

I soaked the clothes in the soapy water and did my best to scrub the dirt out of them. From clinics to schools and churches to homes, remnants of the places I have traveled released themselves from the fabrics of my journey into the basin. I spent a good hour and a half with my hands to my clothes - soaking, scrubbing, rinsing, wringing, and hanging to dry.

I felt gratitude for the access to water and to soap. I felt admiration for the women beside me who do this on a regular basis with competence and strength. And I felt conflicted about the drastic differences between life here and in the US. I wondered who I felt more sorry for: the women here who are bound to the slow and heavy labor of life's necessities or Americans whose fancy machines have developed efficiencies and expectations that leave little room for the slow and connected life.

The Friday Five

Here are my most recent reads of non-fiction books that read like fiction:

1. The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks by Rebecca Skloot

A poor black woman named Henrietta Lacks gets a terrible case of cervical cancer and is treated at Johns Hopkins. Her cells uncharacteristically multiply, and end up serving as the source of some of the most significant medical advances in the last sixty years. The cells were taken without her knowledge or consent, and the story follows the author's research of the impact of the HeLa cells as well the woman behind them.

2. Nothing to Envy by Barbara Demick

It is nearly impossible to have access to the stories of those who live in North Korea. But those who have escaped have unbelievable stories to tell -- stories of fear, hunger, brainwashing and obedience. It is terrifying to realize that there is a place such as North Korea in the world today. It opened my eyes to an entire world unto itself. Truly riveting.

3. Devil in the White City by Erik Larson

The White City is Chicago. The Devil is a mass murderer. Dreamers and architects spend years planning and building the World's Fair at the turn of the century. Meanwhile a man utilizes the site of the World's Fair as a place to lure women and eventually murder them. One story shows man's desire to build; the other, a desire to destroy.

4. The Zookeeper's Wife by Diane Ackerman

A zoo in Warsaw becomes a place for refuge and hiding from the Nazis. People and animals share the spaces together, and the author explores the nature of both animals and humanity in the midst of inhumanity. Delightful coverage of a family's love of animals blended with their courage to house and care for as many people as possible. Fascinating to read about a zoo as a center for Polish resistance.

5. Bossypants by Tina Fey

An episodic autobiography of Tina Fey's awkward and hilarious "coming of age" and working on SNL. An honest female voice that says things about the world, especially as a career woman, that you wish you were brave enough to admit yourself. I bought this book on a whim at an airport on the west coast and caught myself laughing out loud by myself on the plane. Oh, and this is definitely at least a PG-13.

What are your favorite "non-fiction read like fiction" books?

When the World Breaks Your Heart

Sometimes just walking through the world will break your heart. Through the cold fog of the morning in Marsabit, Kenya, I went to greet Kabale (pronounced ka-bah-lay), our courageous leader and volunteer at the Tumaini Clinic. Several years ago amidst the cultural stigma and fear surrounding HIV/AIDS, Kabale was the first person to tell her community that she was HIV positive. She normally carries a strength that I envy, a powerful presence that commands your attention and an unconscious smile of a few missing teeth that makes you involuntarily smile back. And yet today, it all seemed to be missing. Kabale held an uncharacteristic stoicism, a heaviness that buried her smile and tempered her charisma.

   

Her first words to me this morning were, "I am found with cancerous growth in my throat." Cancer is a bad diagnosis for anyone. But for someone who is HIV positive, it is tragic. It's a double whammy of shitty luck.

Kabale has developed a large growth in her neck and she can no longer swallow or speak without severe physical pain. Her viral load used to be at a healthy level due to taking ARVs, but it is plummeting as her immune system struggles to keep up. Kabale needs immediate surgery to have the growth removed, and our clinic cannot perform such operations. She must go to Nairobi (a 20+ hour drive away on dangerous roads) and come up with the 300,000 Kenyan shillings (about $4,000 US) needed for the removal.

"I will be strong with the courage I have," she whispered to me. "What I want most is prayers. With prayer, God comes close to people."

Kabale stopped me from asking more, and changed the subject. "The HIV positive people here are getting the prayers you are sending and we are happily receiving the care through the funds to the clinic. We have 22 support groups now, and even the HIV positive men are joining. We will continue to grow."

Oh, Kabale. What a beautiful and faithful woman.

I found out that this Sunday, Kabale is hosting a harambe, a community fundraiser with her family and friends. They will cook food, and people will come with donations to Kabale. Most of her neighbors are living on less than $2 a day, so this is an unprecedented amount of money for a community such as this. My heart sinks at the enormity of it all. She may very well get the surgery, and find that there is more cancer in her body or that her immune system cannot sustain it.

Kabale has provided life for so many people here, and yet she struggles to save her own. The world so often seems unfair, and it can break your heart. This morning, pledges were already made on behalf of the staff of the Tumaini Clinic, Blood:Water Mission and the HIV/AIDS support group. I am reminded of the call to reciprocate love as often as we are given it.

The Magic of Development

Today I visited the desert of Marsabit, Kenya. The last time I was here was early 2011 when water was already a challenge, and the drought of 2010 simply flaunted its severity. The rain tanks sat empty. The earthen dam was dry, and the animals lay dead upon its crumbled surface. The expected rainy season passed over northeast Kenya without a drop to share. The following rainy season simply did the same.

I remember flying away from Marsabit in a small missionary plane, dumbfounded by the cruelty of the earth and by the limitation of man. As we left, we had encouraged everyone to continue the work, but it honestly felt futile. Why would you build a rain tank when you have lived a year under cloudless skies? Why would you teach your neighbors how to properly care for water when there is simply no water to care for? Why risk the fool by believing in a good God when the earth continues to stand dry? I looked out the window into the desert and wondered if the tears of the dying were the only drops of water that would come. I prayed, but with disbelief.

Today, I flew back in that same missionary plane and saw a land different than when I had been here 18 months before. And what I have seen in the process of such hardship is the enduring belief in the ability to hope and to take responsibility for one's situation regardless of circumstance. Day in and day out, the people of Marsabit continued on with utter resilience to survive. They faithfully built the tanks and repaired the dams as dust devils swept across their land. They developed health and hygiene clubs, dug pit latrines and carried on with a commitment to improving their lives regardless of the circumstances that they could not control. Many people in the US would consider an empty rain tank a failure, but the actions of these communities prove greater success than most places I have seen. Poverty gets the worst of humanity when it tells people that they are without any hope or dignity or ability.

The rains had finally come last October. Like manna from heaven, the rain filled the tanks and the dams. And because the people of Marsabit had worked through the drought to construct the catchment systems, they were able to collect every drop. We visited schools with rain tanks, and the children sang songs about the importance of clean water and hand washing. They were thankful to God that the drought had subsided, and they proclaimed how they were stronger together by enduring through it.

Progress comes in ebbs and flows, and it shows itself in stops and starts. We wish for change to come quickly, but more often than not, it comes slowly and gradually. It is a lost cause to judge success by rain or drought. The magic of development is in the spirit and belief of communities who work diligently together through times of both scarcity and plenty. I am so inspired by our friends in Marsabit.

The Friday Five

Just got off the plane in Nairobi. So, here are five secrets to surviving international travel:

1. Carry-on ONLY

It is entirely possible to carry all that you need without checking baggage. It forces you to only bring what is essential, makes you a more versatile traveler in case you have to switch flights and assures that your things arrive with you. I've been stuck in Rwanda with a bag in Orlando or rerouted from Amsterdam to Paris enough to know that it's better to have your bag wheeling behind you. You can always include a packable duffle if you want to come home with more than you came with. A delayed bag on your way home is less important.

2. Pouches

I travel with all kinds of pouches and they make travel so much easier. Here are some pouches to consider:

• Walgreens carries pill pouches that are basically miniature zip lock bags that allow you to leave your pill bottles at home. HUGE space saver.
• I use small packing cubes to separate my electronics, toiletries and work items.
• You can even have a pouch for yourself - REI carries something called a Cocoon which is basically like a sleeping bag made out of a really soft sheet. It keeps me warm on the plane and at ease in strange beds in hostels and villages.

3. Vegetarian Meals

Little known fact: If you request a vegetarian meal while you book your flight, you will be the first on the plane to be served your meals, no matter where on the plane you are seated. It allows you to be fed earlier on the flight so you can get a good chunk of uninterrupted sleep instead of waiting for your meal. Besides, who really wants airplane chicken?

4. Chair Massage

This may sound extravagant, but it is a GAME CHANGER when it comes staying physically comfortable on consecutive long flights. I fly 8 hours to Amsterdam and go straight to an airport service called Back to Life for a 15 minute chair massage. It works out the kinks and helps improve circulation, gearing me up for the next 8 hour flight to Kenya. It is worth every penny (or Euro), and is still dramatically cheaper than any upgrade.

5. Husband

I actually met mine on an international flight in 2007. And ever since, I do everything I can to ensure that James is my traveling companion on long flights. Besides the fact that James is the best company for long journeys, he is also a fabulous body pillow and makes it feel like I have two seats instead of one. On today's flight, I swapped between having my head on his shoulder to having my legs on his lap to using his lap as a pillow. I was really comfortable. For this reason, I'm not sure if "Wife" would make his top five.

30 Hour Journey

Our culture is on a quest toward an unprecedented speed and efficiency that would cause our ancestors (or even our grandparents!) to stand dumbfounded at what they see. I am amazed at how quickly we can send our thoughts to one another via the internet. How fast our cars can go. How instantly our needs are met through technology. James and I are in Atlanta, on our way to Kenya by way of Amsterdam. The entire voyage takes about 30 hours, which compared to travelers a hundred years ago, is practically like lightning speed. However, for those of us living in 2012, sitting in crammed seats with weird food and high passenger-to-toilet ratios while we coast over the Atlantic is a very long journey.

I am increasingly aware of the quick pace of the American life. We take 15 waking hours each day and splice them up into scattered intervals - half of which we are doing simply because everyone else is doing them and not because we think it is the most healthy or flourishing way to live.

We desire to see the world around us keep up with our pace, and it's hard to know if we are victims of an urgency culture or if we are the ones responsible for creating that expectation. We celebrate when a technology allows us to perform a duty faster. It allows us to check something else off the list and get to the next one quicker. But we ought to also mourn the loss of something very perennial as human beings.

In America, clean water comes at the turn of a tap. It comes so quickly and easily that we don't realize what a privilege it is to have at our fingertips. We don't notice it. We simply consume it.

Thirty hours from here, I will be entering communities that have waited generations for access to clean water. And when it does come, it comes slowly. Village committees are formed, trainings are held, rocks and sand are dredged from rivers and walked by ox cart. It is rarely accessible in a personal home, and the water source is communal. People gather around it. They use their amount wisely and see it for the gift that it is.

So, despite the long journey that we are about to undertake, I am thankful for being a prisoner of time and limitation, even for just the next 30 hours. Our relationship to time, expediency and one another is something we ought to wrestle with over the long-haul, and not just for a fleeting moment.