Margaret's Shamba

– What are you doing today, Margaret?

– In the shamba. Digging.

Digging –

     The earth yields easily,

     willingly receives my hoe

     as collaboration, not attack.

Digging –

     red, brown, living earth…

     smells of herbs, tea, grass and ground…

     gentle African rhythms hover on the wind…

     cool air like velvet on my sweaty skin…

Digging –

     My hands blister

     against the splintered hoe.

     Margaret’s are thick, tough, sensitive.

Digging –

     yesterday we could not,

     but today the rain was light

     and other chores are done.

     Tomorrow is the day of the solstice!

Digging –

     – I want to make a new garden…

          – here, she says,

          – … and here.

Digging –

     – I‘ll help you then, I answer,

     and together in reverent silence

     we dig.

  ~Jembe ardhini, afya mwilini.

  ~ The hoe in the soil brings health to the body.

Food Lesson #4: When Chickens Get Sick

I am in the kitchen washing morning dishes. I like the way they divide work here, by the way, but more on that later. I haven’t put my contacts in yet but I can see something is going down in the kale garden. I squint for a better look.

It’s Margaret. She’s got a chicken in her hand. She bends over and holds the hen against the ground. Uh oh… I think I know what that means.

But wait! My eyesight is blurry so I can’t tell if her lips are moving, but it looks like Margaret is trying to calm the chicken down. She’s petting it with long, slow strokes. How nice… some of the chickens were sick yesterday – she must be giving this one some kind of calming-down cure, or maybe trying to feed it some medicine.

She pets the hen for what feels like a long time. My dish water is getting cold but even I am lulled into a tranquil state of mind. I could watch Margaret pet that chicken all day. Then somehow, seemingly without breaking her rhythm, a long daggar appears in her hand. The tip pushes into the hen’s neck on the downstroke and stays there a good long while, pressing deeper in with each downstroke of the rhythm, even though there is no more petting going on.

I go back to washing dishes. Later, Margaret tells me about sick chickens.

What To Do When the Chickens Get Sick

* separate the sick ones from their roost-mates that don’t look sick

* quarantine the sick ones in a separate pen

* give them as much food, water and medicine as they’ll eat

* give their roost-mates a day or two to make sure they aren’t also sick

* if the roost-mates don’t show symptoms in a day or two, eat them for dinner

* if the sick ones die of natural causes, don’t feed them to anyone, not even the dog

Some of the sukuma plants... the ones lined up in neat rows
& on the other side of the hedge is the chicken coop

It’s Praxides’s turn to cook dinner tonight. I whip up a batch of cookie dough to take advantage of the fact that she’s already got the oven hot. I’ve only been here less than a week but I’ve already figured out that the Sisters love it when people make cookies for them. I’m rolling little tea cookie dough balls in crushed almonds that I brought from home. Praxides opens the oven to check on whatever she’s got in there. “That smells really good,” I say, “what is it?”

Well I don't need to tell you what her answer is, do I?

Kenyan chickens are lean and tasty. Which reminds me, it’s time to go out and pick the sukuma leaves for the survivors’ breakfast tomorrow.

Food Lesson #3

ugali –
a very thick porridge made with fine cornmeal or corn flour, cooked in water about 10 min til smooth and sticky… crisplings will stick to the side of the pot - give those to Joan with some salt

sukuma aka Kenyan kale –
- a leaf food prepared like spinach with onion, tomato and bullion

- mix it with another kind of leaf to make the dish sweet and tangy 

- serve together with sliced (bite sized) meat, tomato, onion and bell pepper

to pick the sukuma leaves for the chickens' breakfast – 

*start with the prior day’s food scraps from the kitchen

*add 1 leaf from each plant to almost fill the bucket when compressed

*take small buds if they are starting to grow from the stem
...it's ok to use leaves the birds have pecked
*watch for snakes between the rows!

*it’s OK to do this in the afternoon to use for the next day’s feed

Taught to me by Margaret – cook, cleaner and fill-in farmer

Food Lesson #2: Feeding the Chickens

Every Morning (8:00 to 8:30)

Preparing the chicken food…

* chop the bucket of sukuma leaves
...it will be a 2/3 bucket when you’re done

* add 2 scoops of the stuff on the right (sawdust?)

* also add ½ scoop of the stuff on the left (millet?)

* add a slow stream of water from the cistern
...do this while mixing very well with a scooping hand

Distribute…

* in the pens on the right
...don't let chicks get out but do let hen out of 1^st pen

* in rest of feed trays
...then let hens along back and left out of their pens

Water…

* just do every 2-3 days or when water looks dirty

* wash & scrub containers at the cistern

* fill blue bucket with fresh water

* if chickens are fluffed up they might be feeling poorly
...in that case, add 1 T medicine powder to bucket

* be sure to use the low-edged water dish for babies

* give last pen on the right 2 

Afternoon (2-3 pm)

*snack time – one scoop of corn from storage room

* just scatter it on the ground

Evening (before it gets dark)

* they should all go back into the right pens on their own
...(the chickens go home to roost!)

* if there are eggs, put them in the basket in the millet room

* close pen doors for the night

On the Third Day We’ll Give You a Hoe

Being kissed by a giraffe... really he just wants
the food pellets in my hand

I couldn’t wait for the third day. Anthony was digging in the corn and I was eager to help him. To say Anthony is the gardener at the convent is a bit of an… but wait a minute. I don’t think I’ve mentioned how it is that I find myself spending a month at a convent in Kenya.

The Sisters here are affiliated with NDNU, where I teach. I met Sister Joan when she was a visiting scholar on my campus and decided then that I would visit her in Kenya if I could. It’s always nice to know someone local when you’re traveling – especially in a place like Kenya, which is so different from the US and where a cultural faux pas can have serious consequences. I am also working on a book about our Sisters and I wanted to experience the way they live in community here in Africa. Joan is mid-way through a 3-year teaching and program development commitment at Tangaza College and is currently one of 22 Sisters of Notre Dame in Kenya.

The convent is very close to the Karen Blixen home (Out of Africa) and the property is large enough that they can grow a significant portion of their own food – corn, beans, papayas, bananas, passion fruit, cabbage, squash, onions, carrots, chard, and of course sukuma wiki – Kenyan kale. Anthony is in charge of the farm. The fact that the Sisters live on a subsistence farm managed by an African farmer is an unexpected gift. I ask if it would be OK for me to help him.

“That’s fine, Patti,” Joan replies, “I’m sure he’ll appreciate it, but we normally don’t put visitors to work so soon.”

“On the third day we give them a hoe,” Sister Judy chimes in.

Joan laughs. “That’s right – for the first two days, you’re a guest… but on the third day we give you a hoe.”

“But didn’t you say Anthony’s leaving for the holidays on Monday?”

“Oh that’s right,” Joan says. “It might be useful for him to show you a few things before he goes.”

It’s settled, then. I’d wanted to find something useful to do to earn my keep, and this will be it. I am happy. Anthony graciously lets me be his “helper.” He shows me how to do weeding in the corn plot, which is not at all like weeding in the States. Back home we pull weeds and throw them away. If we’re really committed, we toss them into a compost pile. Here they turn them under with a hoe and leave them there to compost in place. Anthony shows me how to do it. As we work the rows, we also make a little heap of earth around the stalk of each corn plant to help stabilize it.

What a patient teacher Anthony is. He shows me how to do it then works silently beside me for a few minutes while I give it an awkward try. He’s not picky about holding the handle just right like many people can be when they're trying to teach something, doesn’t grab it from me and snarl – “do it this way!” His blood pressure doesn’t go up if I’m not standing just so. He seems to understand that I need a few minutes to observe and mimic… to get a feel for this new task. Eventually he says “Please – ” to get my attention. “Like this.” Thuk, thuk, thuk goes his hoe in the rich red earth. “It is easier to go forward.” And he’s right. We weed in the big corn plot until it starts to rain. What a pleasure it is to learn from someone who is on Kenya time.

Feeding time at the baby elephant rescue

She doesn't look so tough, but Sister Carolyn
works in South Sudan - not your easiest assignment!

On my second day I play tourist with Joan, Sister Carolyn, Sister Astride and another guest at the convent. We visit the giraffe interpretive center and an orphan elephant rescue center that does amazing work on behalf of Kenya’s elephants. I make Stephanie a foster parent for Quanza, a small elephant who was orphaned when her mom was killed by ivory poachers. Here’s her story, but be forewarned… it’s about the saddest mother-daughter story you’ll ever hear: http://www.sheldrickwildlifetrust.org/asp/orphan_profile.asp?N=284

We settle in back at the convent, and I get an early night’s sleep… I have to get up early tomorrow morning to learn how to feed the chickens!

Sounds of Nairobi #1

Trying out this website that allows you to upload audio. This first clip is of the birds and other animals that served as my alarm clock the other day... works pretty well as a sleep tape too!

http://yourlisten.com/pandrews/RhNjBkMG

Kenya Time

It’s a mad rush out the gate when my plane lands in Amsterdam… a 3-terminal sprint to make it to my connecting flight to Nairobi. Nor am I the only one. About half a dozen of us have connecting flights that already started boarding ten minutes ago… and we are leaving the Schengen Zone, which means going through passport control and another security check before boarding the next plane. And did I mention that the next plane has aleady started boarding?

Several of us bunch up at the passport control checkpoint. Three guys going to Buenos Aires, two of us going to Nairobi and another woman whose destination isn’t clear but who seems very much in a hurry. A young African man in airport uniform ushers us into the “Short Connection” line, which for some reason moves more slowly than the regular lines. Soon people who took the regular lines are passing us. We ask the guy who put us in the Short Connection line if there’s anything he can do to speed things up.

“Everyone in front of you has the same problem,” he says with a mild accent. “There isn’t anything I can do.”

The Argentines look pretty desperate. Line Guy takes pity on them and pulls out his phone. “Hold on,” he says. They hold their breath while he makes a call. “Your plane will wait for you.” Yay – success!

Now what about us? Line Guy starts to walk away. Eva, the other Nairobi-bound traveler bunched up in the passport line with me, calls him back. “What about us?”

He looks at our boarding passes. “Don’t worry. You will not miss your flight.”

“But it’s already started boarding,” I point out.

“And this line is not moving,” Eva adds. “Can’t you also call them and ask them to wait for us?”

He looks at us sternly. “Your plane will not wait for you. You will wait for your plane.” With that he walks away. Conversation over.

“Do you think it’s true?” I ask. Eva is from Nairobi so maybe she knows.

“Maybe.”

Eva and I are a team now so I wait for her after I go through the passport check. Once we are both on the other side, we resume our sprint until we can sprint no more. We high-five Kenyan style when we make it to the boarding gate. “Patricia Andrews?” the gate attendant asks me.

“Yes, thanks for waiting.”

Having made it to the gangplank we discover that, although the plane has been boarding for more than an hour, there are still people in line waiting to get on. Soon there’s even someone behind us – a well-dressed Kenyan 30-something on his way home for the holidays. Turns out he arrived in Amsterdam on the same plane as Eva. “Wait a minute,” I say, “you were on the same plane she was on?”

“Yes.”

“Then why aren’t you all out of breath like we are?”

“I’m on Kenya time,” he says with a smile.

“Ah yes,” Eva says. “Kenya time. Once they gave my uncle a short connection… it was here in Amsterdam also. He got here and said, ‘That’s too much in a hurry – I’ll just wait for the next plane,’ and that’s what he did.”

We all share a good laugh. I find myself hoping that I slow down to Kenya time the moment I get off the plane in Nairobi. As luck would have it, I have an excellent opportunity to practice that starting about 10 minutes before landing. Due to some weight and balance issues, the plane’s cargo had to be re-arranged before we could take off. This took a while and we ended up an hour behind schedule. Line Guy wasn’t kidding – we did indeed end up waiting for the plane. So I’m already a bit worried that Joan, the woman who is picking me up – might give up on me before I make it out the door. Then the flight attendant calls our attention to an important announcement – due to a fire, half of the Nairobi airport is no longer operational. When we disembark, she says, we will be taken by bus to the temporary terminal, which, she articulates carefully, “is housed. In a large. Tent.”

That doesn’t sound like the speedy and efficient processing I was hoping for.

It is now almost 10:00 pm on a moonless night. When the bus drops us at the temporary terminal, we find ourselves being herded into a dark hallway lit by battery powered emergency lanterns. With every step, both the temperature and the smell of sweaty homo sapiens increases. We turn the corner to find a massive throng of humanity waiting in disorderly “lines.” At least a third of them are in the visa line. I join them, regretting that I had not trusted FedEx to get my beloved passport to the Kenyan Embassy and back before I left.

Everyone is standing in the dark, confused. Someone faints. An minor altercation breaks out here and there. A medical crew walks by with a stretcher. I hold my place in line and fill out the visa application by the light of my trusty headlamp.

When the lights come on, people clap and cheer. It’s no cooler, and the smell isn’t any better, but the computers and fingerprint machines are working again, and soon the “lines” start moving. When I finally make it outside, three hours late, Joan is there waving at me with a smile on her face. “Welcome to Kenya,” she says… Kenya time indeed. I feel more relaxed already.