Mabatini.

Mwanza, Tanzania - “Hapana – asante!” (“No, thank you”) I said to the ‘yogurt mamas’ this morning after they expressed many thanks for our visit and for our support. “We teach you about probiotic yogurt, you teach us about life,” Gregor added. With the experiences we have had over the past week, such a statement resonated with a tremendous amount of poignancy. The energy the ‘yogurt mamas’ bring to the Western Heads East initiative and to their community is tremendous. I am privileged to have had the opportunity to witness this first-hand. We were meeting with the mamas for the last time as a full complement of team members on this trip; Gregor, Jennifer and Maryanne have just left for the airport. I, however, look forward to working with them again over the coming weeks before I, too, return home to Canada.

From a personal standpoint, I have been amazed to see the sheer number of children running about and looking shyly, excitedly or sometimes with trepidation, at these “muzungus” coming into their community in a Range Rover. The Mabatini village is not exactly a tourist destination. They are quick with smiles when you engage them, and are fascinated by seeing pictures of themselves on the back of a digital camera. Today, I nearly incited a mini riot of children who rapidly surrounded me after I took a photo of one of the boys and showed it to him. Soon, children – seemingly extricating themselves from crevices in the walls – clamoured around for their opportunity to be photographed and to be around the visitors. It was as though it took one to break the ice, to show we were friendly. The excitement is infectious. Of course, my handing out superballs to a few of the children only whipped the crowd into more of a frenzy, but you can’t possibly begin to bring enough for everyone. Children are, literally, everywhere.

This, of course, is one of the big reasons this project is so important. While I can presume it’s the same throughout the majority of Africa, I have seen first-hand, and know to be true, that malnutrition, disease and lack of access to potable water are ravaging populations in Kenya and Tanzania. It has been astounding to see so few senior citizens throughout our travels. I get a sinking feeling in my stomach when I realize just why that is: the average life expectancy is just 45. It’s universal whether you’re in Canada, the United States, Kenya or Tanzania: the children are the future. With this in common, we could certainly learn from each other to help create a better future around the globe. Despite their hardship, and often limited opportunity, the children here are, for the most part, extraordinarily happy. Many are sick, but they do not look defeated. Nearly all their clothes are in tatters, but “sawa” (“it’s alright”); it’s hot here.

It’s something I would suggest we think about a little more often as we stress about deadlines, bills and what shade of taupe to paint our walls. We certainly have poverty, disease and a different kind of malnutrition in North America, but here, it seeps into everything the dust can reach. Which is to say, everywhere.

Day Five: Mwanza.

Mwanza, Tanzania - The heat hangs heavily, like a sopping wool sweater, sucking from you what breath hasn’t already been stolen by dust-filled lungs. Despite being the beginning of the rainy season, we have seen but a sprinkle since we landed in Africa nearly a week ago. The small breeze rattles the palms into chatter and Lake Victoria glistens hazily in the morning sun. Kingfishers, storks and eagles stalk their breakfast dizzily, lazily drifting. Then rocket straight toward the water below as through threaded to a fishing line.

The ‘Faculty’ portion of the trip draws to a close today, as does much of the formal agenda. Gregor, Jennifer and Maryanne begin returning home this afternoon, though Isaac will remain for a couple more days. I’ll be starting the ‘Intern experience’ of the trip, staying with the Western Heads East interns and volunteering in the community for the rest of my time here. Goodbye hot water, regular access to the Internet and reliable electricity. The interns are the are the contingent from Canada who keeps the project going on a daily basis, so I look forward to gaining some perspective into their experience, and we have a number of great things planned.

Oh, that and a couple of us are heading out to tent on the Serengeti and at the Ngorongoro crater for the next couple of days. You know, small things.

Day Four: Mwanza.

Mwanza, Tanzania - Without question, the days painted with the experience of visiting various towns and communities have thus far proved to be the most rewarding – both personally and professionally. Being among the people has provided unparalleled opportunities for seeing how other people live, and also for how much we have to be thankful. The sights. The smells. The sounds. The feelings. Our senses are alive and being pulled in so many directions.

Today, we visited the birthplace of the Western Heads East project in Africa – the Mabatini community kitchen. Before we had the chance to do so, however, we had a successful meeting with Regional Administrative Secretary Alhaji Yhya Mbila, who cleared space in his morning schedule to meet with us at the prompting of Amran Batenga, Chairman of the regional Chamber of Commerce, with whom we met last night.

Our objective during the meeting was to increase awareness of, and generate increased support from government for, the Western Heads East project. “We all out support it; we’re talking about AIDS, which is a big threat,” Mbila said. “Mwanza is the hub,” he began, telling us that the lake region is home to 30 per cent of the country’s population. “Historically, we have competition economically with Kenya and Uganda, but invariably, we are the best.” While he previously had little knowledge of the project, he was sufficiently impressed that he promised to visit the community kitchen over the next month to experience it first hand.

Which is what we did next. Greeted by the mamas, who were all wearing green Western Heads East T-shirts (which read, on the back, “How can a cow fight HIV? Western Heads East”) along with their traditional kitenge, we were given portions of the probiotic yogurt that has helped them build their reputation in the community. Though we eventually added a little bit of sugar, it tasted quite good.

The mamas’ kitchen is a small room with turquoise walls and a mural depicting the community engaged in the yogurt making process on one wall. Awash with green plastic containers, a small floortop stove, a refrigerator, other tools and a table for distribution, the kitchen will need to be expanded to increase opportunities for sustainability. The village of Mabatini is dry and set into the hills with dirt roads and people everywhere. Most of the buildings are stone and the wind whips down the laneways, carrying with it dust and the excited trills of children. I look forward to revisiting the community over the next week or so and seeing more of it. It was an amazing experience.

Following our time in the kitchen, we are treated to a cultural experience as the local Tunda Sana theatre troupe ushered us in as honoured guests to watch a series of performances aimed at teaching people about HIV/AIDS through drama. While I likened it in my head to opera – which you don’t necessarily need to understand the lyrics to enjoy – we had an interpreter and were truly blown away by the performance, and the experience. Following the main morality plays, the audience was engaged to ask questions of the actors, who remained in character while providing their responses. It struck me how this encouraged important discussion among the group, and was impressed by the actors’ ability to reply in metaphor. On one such occasion, for example, an actor portraying a philandering girlfriend was asked, “Why have more than one boyfriend,” to which she replied, “You can’t live on the same diet of rice.” This also happened to be the one time an actor had no answer to the follow-up question: “If you need change in your diet, why not women?” I also thought that was a pretty enlightened question for this area. The session wrapped up with a traditional African dance, which was also a tremendous, unexpected experience.

Looking out at a rainbow arcing over Lake Victoria, I feel almost like I have found the pot of gold of experience; this has also been another amazing day.

Day One: Kisumu.

Kisumu, Kenya - Now I feel like I’m in Africa. Having spent most of the past two days in airports and flying over the continent, I have arrived with the full team – which now includes Gregor Reid and his daughter Jennifer – in Kisumu, Kenya. Flying at the crack of dawn this morning, we were able to see Mount Kenya rising above a carpet of clouds – towering over it, in fact.

At Kisumu’s small airport, we were greeted by a group of uniformed school children who waved eagerly as we disembarked. Kisumu isn’t really a tourist spot, but the group seemed to enjoy watching the planes land. It’s a rural area, replete with farms and thatched houses on the opposite side of Lake Victoria from Mwanza, Tanzania, where we are headed in a few days. In town, however, Kisumu is pretty hectic, with Jeepneys and bicycle taxis careening down the roads and through the myriad roundabouts. In reference to driving in Kenya, our driver this morning said, “Here, you just take care of yourself”.

Gregor and Jennifer have already been on safari, and also had the opportunity to get up-close and personal with some cheetahs, and to pet them (apparently, they purred). Wild giraffes also come up to their hotel’s windows, and stick their heads through, which, based on the photographs, looked pretty neat. So far, I’ve only seen some pelicans or storks, and a crane, all of which are really large birds.

As the Internet service has been down at our hotel for a few days, we sought out an Internet café, which turned out to be a bit of an exercise in futility. After playing musical chairs trying to find a computer that would even let us open a web page, we waited. And we waited. Then, a couple of us drafted quick emails and pressed send. Nothing. The service went down and our efforts were lost. While we got nothing in return, all things considered, the 17 Kenyan Shillings I spent amounted to less than a Canadian dollar for a half-hour of so-called connection. And, I like to think that’s part of the experience, too.

As I am want to do, I parted from the group for a while this afternoon when we had some free time. I wandered outside the city gates and came across a large open market, where they sell pretty much everything, from dried fish, to fresh produce, to clothing. I tend to like to immerse myself in the world I am visiting, and not just visit tourist sites. I like to see how people live and what locals do and, because of this, I can be a bit impulsive in my wandering. Based on some of the looks I received, I’m not so sure I was welcome in this market. Being such a shutterbug at home, I also had to be more careful, given that many people here don’t like to have their photos taken, or want to be paid if you do. I encountered one vendor who asked me to pay up, though I hadn’t even been shooting in her direction. I also acquired a shadow, a young boy named Ricky, who followed me back to the hotel, asking for money, keeping up by hopping along on-and-off of the ragged sidewalks.

Our plans have changed for today and we will now not be going to Oyugis until tomorrow morning, but we have meetings for the rest of the afternoon, and into the evening.