Kimana by night 1/23/07

Kilimanjaro watches over the Oloile Secondary school and the village of Kimana, but she is unnoticed like a housewife whose beauty has been forgotten. But when I first saw the mountain this morning, with its flat white capped top, she stole my breath like a first kiss. In the afternoon the peak hides behind cloud cover and at night she disappears, replaced by the other wonder of this place: the stars.

Traveling the rough road two nights ago on the trek from Nairobi to Kimana, we bottomed out in the van, pounding the dark dirt with a jolt. A few miles later we stopped to find the engine spewing oil like afaucet that had been left on at full force. Needless to mention, there is no AAA in Kenya. We called and waited for local help to arrive. Two hours later, we were rescued by our friends in Kimana, who towed us with a large truck and a jerry rigged hitch. But as I waited in the bush with my companions, the star filled sky held my attention without distraction. It was as if I had never really seen the nights sky before. I mean to say that what passes for stars anywhere else I have been is a cheap imitation, as close to the real thing as a plastic statue of liberty is to the actual structure. The detail and multitude of light available to the naked eye...is...ineffable.

After the four hour tow, we arrived in Kimana at about 3am. My first impressions of the village would have to wait til morning. In truth they are barely forming even now, but I can share one.

Each morning I wake up to roosters, dogs, goats, and cows all making their favorite morning noises. Water is warmed for me and I bathe in awood enclosure similar to a fitting room at a retail store, except of course it is outside and under an African sky. That warm wash is a great gift and so is the fresh chai made of cows milk that is given tome three times daily with plates of home made food. All of these treats come by the hard working hands of women. Mama Nasieku, the wife and mother of the house I am living in, her sisterRahab, and mother in law Eunice, serve me in ways that I do not deserve. In fact, I wouldn't survive here without what they provide me: food, water, and clean clothes. It is hard as an American man to receive. In fact most of what is done for me as an American is challenging to take in. I am here at a post office at the expense of friends who drove me. The midnight tow took the help of seven village men. Each journey I take to the school requires a ride in the family's only car, indeed one of the few in the community.

At the same time, I feel like I am surprisingly able to contribute here. I am learning the great value of listening and have taken notes on each person I have met and the important school related conversations I have had. Progress is being made in the beauracratic process entailed in creating a school. I am learning the system rapidly, partaking in official meetings and seeing things happen.