Morning in Nairobi

They produce such lovely things... full of color and detail, and many we met were so generous. One dress maker gave me two outfits while a woman from the village who could only communicate with her smile handed me a huge bag of green beans.






A day..., a day. We began with no coffee (except for the adventurous couple, Pastors Hughes who ventured onto University Avenue), and a quick pace of going to pick up, purchase, and learn about the water tanks.

The staff of Kentank was awesome. Chocolate folk with MA's and studied manners, very aware of protocols. At least three of the four were female, the marketing specialists who declared that clean water will become available to children once we involve mothers in the distribution. I felt as if I was one of the women who should claim the tens of thousands of children who siphon water from the mud puddles along the road.

The plant was surrounded by barbed wire, a prison among a village of prisons out in the open. We were not accustomed to seeing the piles of garbage on the side of the road; not the metallic shanties of slums where tens of thousands go without electricity, sanitation, water. I realized that anyone visiting modern Africa should read the great classics of African literature to process what they see. Post-colonial Africa is described so deftly in novels like "The Beautiful Ones are Not Yet Born" by Ayi Kwei Armah. As Americans we have our own dramatic dilemmas for sure, though nothing that compares to the "lift" needed on a daily basis in these places.

The big loads being drawn by men or carried by women on their heads were nearly vestiges of memory until you see that its true, up close. the people survive as though it takes them all day to manage rather than to grapple with the world.

I'm sure it is how most of us feel, that our circumstances are all there is to manage until we can get out from under. It's human.