Back to Africa

We left the African continent over two years ago, after only a month in the Peace Corps.  We’d spent years dreaming about it and then many long months preparing our lives to be abroad for 27 months.  Selected to serve in agriculture in Senegal seemed like a good fit for our interests and skills.  We felt ready for the challenges of culture, work environment and language, but were utterly undone by something over which we had no control.  The nighttime temperatures, hovering in the 90’s, denied us both any restful sleep.  When we pulled the plug, it was both swift and effective.  We had exactly 1 hour to tell our host family we were leaving for good, and then it was back to the city and an airplane to return us to the western world and sweet sleep.  #firstworldproblems…

But not all dreams will let go, despite setbacks as serious as that seemed.  One of PC Senegal’s inspiring staff members said to us upon leaving; “only you can decide how to best serve humanity.” This stuck with me, not only because he was one of the coolest dudes I’d ever met and I felt as if I’d let him down, but because his statement assumes that service to humanity is a baseline and our own specific “how” is an essential question.  As she always does for me, Shari provided perspective; “maybe we can do our own Peace Corps somewhere else.”  Through the fog of defeat I felt upon returning, we put our trust that the universe might have more adventures and opportunities in store for us if we just stayed open to them.

After being back on the African continent, Kenya this time, I feel our faith well placed within the first week.  The obviousness, coupled with the constancy, of comparisons I make between Kenya and Senegal quickly begin to annoy me.  I am now further away from Senegal than it is from the North Carolina coast.  It is another world entirely, culturally, and climactically; I can already feel this one sinking into my heart in a way that the former simply never could.

The similarities are here as well, the same Pan-African cement block architecture, the overcrowded mini-buses, the open-air markets where women sell dried fish, vegetables, and not so freshly slaughtered meat, the constant hustle of people trying to make something work mixed with idleness wherever shade lies thick along the roadside.  We see the same reaction written on the face of our local populace as they gape at our light skin – “mzungu!” (white person) replaces “toubab, toubab!” as we pass by their homes.

The differences are just as obvious. Though we are in the driest and hottest season, there is a lush greenness to the area despite the serious drought this year.  The deep red local clay soils hold moisture in better than the Senegalese sand. The people are friendly and curious, lacking the brash intensity of the Senegalese.  Though the temperature climbs into the 90’s during the day, when the sun angles into the evening sky, things become cool and refreshing.  Lying down next to another mammal at night is both possible and pleasant in our little two-room house within the family compound.  We remain well-acquainted with sleep and my first week’s REM is on par with my cumulative total for our month in Senegal.  And as my friend Anthony prophesized, the donuts are indeed better.  Mama Francisca blesses us with mandazis (similar to beignets) each week.

Our home in Sirembe lies close to the equator in western Nyanza county (formerly province) in ethnic Luo country.  President Obama’s paternal grandmother is still alive in a village not far away.  Both the regional airport and new tarmac roads are the result of his visit a few years back.  Despite these improvements, much of this area remains neglected by the government in Nairobi, in much the same way that Appalachian areas are often overlooked by far removed state governments.  Isolated by distance and lack of infrastructure, the Luo can be resourceful and compassionate when looking after their own, just like folks back up in the holler.  Perhaps, that is why I feel more at home here than on the western coast of Africa.   That, or the 20 to 30-degree difference in temperature might just have something to do with my attitude adjustment.  The hottest environments we’ve experienced so far are comparable to the coolest we experienced in Senegal (air-conditioned spaces not withstanding).  We are starting to fit in, or at least stick out in a way that works for us. 

This adventure began with a chance meeting of an old college friend in the whale watching line in Bar Harbor, Maine, during the summer of 2015.  As I led my client crew down to their sea kayaks on the dock while Patrick stood in the que to board the boat bound for cetaceous sightings.   We hadn’t seen each other in nearly 20 years, and had either of us been 1 minute earlier or later, our getting reconnected might not have occurred.  Patrick rekindled a notion that perhaps we could find other ways to serve abroad and facilitate that dream.

He is a founder of TRAKLAP (The Traditional Knowledge and Land Preservation Foundation) a mouthful of a moniker barely rolling off the tongue.  Lacking as much in snappy title as in bureaucracy, they more than make up for it in real human connection and person-to-person change.  We see fewer slick projects to catch the eyes of wealthy humanitarians eager for a feel-good tax shelter, and more the hard work of a few compassionate souls who simply want to make life better for the people here in this small corner of Kenya and remote Uganda.  We await a trip to the latter country to view the property the foundation owns. 

Patrick is also a former swimming teammate at Kenyon College.  Though our lives took many winding and divergent paths prior to our random reconnection, we share experiences and the fraternal bond of many miles spent together in the pool.  Because of this bond, we commit to a three-month volunteer period with little more than a few phone calls and a flight itinerary.  

For the first few days, Patrick joins us in country. His presence and the overwhelming fondness shared between he and our hosts reduces our adjustment time by at least 2 weeks.  Following his example, we soon shuffle off the stilted role of “playing the guest” and relax into ourselves.  We are more than welcome here.

We put more than a few kilometers on the Land Rover Defender 100, from the passenger seats, during our first week.  Meeting members of the community, partners in our organization’s mission, school principals, viewing the foundation’s fields, catching up on our time zones and with each other takes most of our time.  We manage to get a compost scheme going in the family’s trash area, procure ingredients for making soap and lead a program for kids at the children’s home; all things considered, the week feels like a success.