On the way to Lake Turkana

It’s hard to know where to start. So much has happened in the last 2 weeks.

The extreme budget safari begins

I just returned from a wild and wonderful trip to the remote and arid area surrounding Lake Turkana in Northern Kenya. I went with two new friends from the orphanage, Amy and Sean. We had heard the area was unique in geography, was extraordinary in its diversity of traditional pastoral tribes and that we would be encountering some extremely rugged terrain and spotty transportation and wow it really turned out to be an adventure. 

It started with a variety of crowded matatu’s and got really interesting once we arrived in Nyaruru.

Sean is a talented photographer who wanted to capture some shots to document the Turkana and Samburu tribes. The initial idea was to go with an organized safari group in Ethiopia but it turned out to be too expensive so I tagged along and we created our own “extreme budget safari” of sorts using every type of public transportation and hiring our own local guides.

The trip got interesting in Nyaruru where we hopped on a bus called Maralal Safari – generally just a bus going to Maralal where we heard was the gateway to the surrounding tribes.  We were told it left at 7 am. We asked what time “Africa time” and were told 9 am. We arrived and they said actually 11:30 am. We came back and sat in the outrageously crowded bus until it finally left at 1:30 pm. I thought we weren’t going to hit dirt roads until after Maralal but I was wrong they started just outside of Nyaruru and went on for more than 8 hours. About half way through we started to pick up some tribal groups and the diversity on the bus was extraordinary. The combination of elaborate tribal dress, combined with students dressed in urban clothes and us. Outside we started to see wildlife in the increasingly more arid landscape filled with acacia tress and lots of scrubs. Over the course of the 2 weeks we saw 3 small wild herds of zebra, a giraffe, 3 ostrich, a tons of camels (though they are all domesticated).Seeing these animals in the wild, not even on a real safari in a park was amazing – the just roam the country side outside the bus, or as we are hiking. 

Folks from the Samburu tribe who got off the bus

could learn about the culture. We told them we wanted to go to a non touristy place and he decided to take us to his own village and took us to meet all of his family. We prepared for a 4 hour trek, which turned out to to be 8 hours. The open desert and the huge Kenyan sky was fabulous and really the first time I had been away from bigger cities.

At about the 7 hour mark we had sat down under the tree and a local Samburu tribes man came out to greet us. We were near his property and had just walked by. Initially he was very friendly. He left and then came back as we were walking away and became very irate, yelling at our guides and starting to hit them with sticks. Then he told us in English to “Get Out!” We said no problem and started to walk away. He pointed in one direction for us to go, and took our guides another. We walked alittle way and realized we might have a big problem because we had no idea how to go back or where exactly we were going. We had walked a long way and were completely exhausted. 

View from our camp

We hung back a bit out of the confrontation, but still watched while our guides continued to get harassed by a Samburu warrior. More of his friends or family came over to partake in yelling at our guides. One picked up a rock and each had a machete and club which they carry on them everyday. They walked farther away and one of our guides got hit hard by the warrior on the back of the head which made him fall to his knees. Fortunately our guides stayed calm and didn’t fight back and another local guy came over diffused the situation. What it came down to was the warrior was drunk and wanted money for having us walk over his property. Our guides gave them the equivalent of $5 and we were able to continue to walk on, but for a moment things looked like they might be ugly.  We got out of there and continued to walk to the guide’s family’s village compound and were relieved to have the warmest reception ever. We met his blind grandma and some of the elders and much of his extended family just in time for sunset. I showed them photos of my family and friends and photos of various places in the U.S. I’ve found this helpful many times now to build a rapport since I’ve been in Kenya. The kids and family seemed a little scared of us and there was little language communication, though our guides were able to interpret. It also tends to warm them up to the idea of taking some photos because sometimes kids in really remote areas are scared of the camera. I think they think it’s like a gun or something. When they can see themselves in the digital photos they laugh and make fun of each other. 

One of the guide’s wife offered us a local sugar cane wine next to a cooking fire inside a dark mud/cow dung hut with only 2 book sized windows.

We set up tents at another house outside of our guides brother in law’s fenced in hut where we were told the lions “normally” don’t come in. 

Samburu Culture and Traditions

Samburu warrior

While dinner was cooked so far the best meal I’ve had in Kenya and chatted with our guides about Samburu traditions and culture.  Samburu women accumulate the beads (they wear around their necks) from men who court them over the course of their lifetime and ultimately their husband. Women almost never buy beads from themselves. Women with a lot of beads often have quite well to do husbands. There are several age specific rituals in Samburu culture, for boys they enter a “warrior” stage when they are about 16-21 where they learn to hunt and can not be seen eating because they must be thought to almost never eat because it makes them look strong. They eat together in a remote area of the forest so no one sees them eat. If they do eat in a restaurant they go in the back door and eat in the kitchen! They are circumcised at age 18 and must not wince or they fear being ostracized by the community for the rest of their lives.  Some do actually go for days with out eating. Because the land is so arid and almost nothing grows both Samburu and Turkana tribes drink mostly blood and milk from their cattle and occasionally eat meat.   They often eat nothing else for long stretches of time especially when out tending cattle or goats for long stretches of time. They tie a rope around the cow’s neck and poke a hole in their neck to let about a liter of blood to drink. They will not drink from that cow for another 2 weeks.

While Sean set up his informal photo studio and Amy adjusted the light I was able to talk with the various family members and rest of the village and a ton.

Turkana Refugees

A Turkana elder

We stayed to nights in the Samburu village and then went to a Turkana tribe closer to Maralal.

This village was an entirely different experience – pretty much chaos arranging for Sean’s photos of village elders and some of my own.  It was a learning experience for all of us and the initial situation felt bad, they demanded money and it just feels wrong just coming in taking photos and leaving.  We learned to invite a few women away from the camp to take photos at the guest house we were staying at the next day so we could talk more individually to people and Sean could complete is set of photos of women, warriors and elders. We learned that Turkana tribe were actually refugees of mostly women who were forcibly moved from Baragoi a town about 10 hours north where Turkana’s and Samburu’s were fighting over cattle.

An tradition of the Turkana tribe that can lend to violence is that young Turkana boys are told to go out and find themselves cattle and goats as part of becoming a man – essentially stealing then where they can. Samburu’s are given animals when they are born and breed as well as buy them. In this arid landscape where cattle means life it has become a major source of conflict all over the northern region where the tribes fight to remain control of their herds. The fighting got so extreme in Baragoi that the government moved the tribe to Maralal to try to end the conflict. It seems to have worked, though the Turkana group of mostly women now in Maralal for 3 weeks has no means of survival. As Sean was taking photos of the extraordinarily beautiful women I learned that many of them hadn’t eaten in days.  I bought the 8 women a supply of food for 2 dinners that cost me around $5 and was told that the government gives them less than that every two months.  Many of the men have died in the conflict, some still live in Baragoi in hiding or trying to get their cattle back.  I continued to ask questions and was left very attached to the women. 

Sean, Amy and I are thinking about ways to help these women make a livelihood. I am looking in to the feasibility of helping the women open a small tea café or a small store where they can sell some food staples which could be supported by Sean and Amy’s organization.  After I look into a few more things from contacts I made in Maralal and the surrounding community I may go back up there and with the help of my guides have some talks with the community women and see what might be possible. 

 

Ah there is so much more to say – that was really only the first three days of the trip. I hardly covered any of the random great conversations we had with tribal people who were just as intrigued with us as we were with them like the first place winner of the International Camel Derby or the other friendly folks that constantly were striking up a conversations with us on the street or from the table next to ours over tea.

After almost a month and a half in Kenya I’m unexpectedly even been reexamining my faith after so many Kenyan’s have asked me ‘Are you Christian?’ I haven’t quite had an answer to just a direct question at the beginning of a conversation before I even know their name. Most development projects seem to be run by faith based organizations and it’s given me a lot to think about as I navigate conversations and learn about the culture here.  Religion plays a huge role in the lives of African’s especially Kenyans and I guess it’s forced me to rethink about where I stand on that issue after a lot of years of pushing religion aside in my head. More on this later. 

I guess I’ll save the rest for the next blog as we get closer to approaching Lake Turkana. The transportation gets much nuttier with over night trucks, breakdowns, rides with geode miners and such thick dust we have to stop the car and blaze our own trail in part of the desert on the return trip.

I’m writing from Nairobi in a cozy hostel where we gave ourselves two days of comfort and even a movie  to recover from the body shaking transportation and digest our northern Kenya experience. I’ll be heading back to the orphanage in a few hours. 

Life is good. I am happier than I have been in a long time, learning so much almost every minute of the day and fully engaged in where I am right now. 

Send me an email I’d love to hear from you. Miss you friends and family! Hugs!

Methini Orphanage

One of the kids from Methini

This week I had the opportunity to go to the Methini sister orphanage to Watoto Wa Baraka. Methini isn’t really that far away but it takes around 2 hours to get there because the roads are so gnarly. I was surprised the orphanage and this town even had a matatu serving it after seeing how nutty the roads were. Fortunately we had a tough matatu (4wd Nissan mini van) but it surely was full. It’s a fifteen passenger van loaded up with around 25 people, animals and a lot of stuff packed in every cranny.

The Methini orphanage has only been open and having kids there for 3 months, right now there are 7 kids and two staff living in corrugated metal make-shift buildings. The metal for the walls is made of large metal drums that once likely had oil or similar in them and hammered out to be flat, then welded or nailed together.


They eventually want to build more permanent structures made of concrete, likely still with metal roofs but there is a need now, and only so much money to house the kids now, and these type of structures are commonplace and do the job.Methini is more remote and the kids speak very little English only a “hi how are you?” and a few memorized songs that I don’t think they know what they mean.
I was there with two other volunteers and a professional photographer/volunteer who is hoping to assist in marketing the orphanage. While he took his fabulous shots, I played with the kids and took a few simple shots of my own. We were planning to stay at the orphanage as it had been encouraged by most of the staff, but then at the last minute someone called from the main orphanage saying we couldn’t because they didn’t have security set up there yet. Unfortunately this word was a bit too late. We started to wait for a matatu, but we missed the last one. We considered taking motorcycle taxis but the road was horrible and it was getting dark. We ended up staying because we had no other choice. It turned out to be a lot of fun.

Two other kids from Methini

The transportation debacle pushed the kids dinner back a bit and the volunteers and the staff scrambled to make dinner before it got too late. I cut up the onions, tomato and cabbage and washed the dishes from lunch, next to the fire where I believe her name was Zebra, (like Debra but with a Z), made the ugali over the fire. Most rural Kenyans still cook over an open fire. The Pundamilia orphanage has a bio gas stove but, they still enjoy using the fire and don’t feel as comfortable cooking with a gas stove. The Methini orphanage doesn’t have a gas stove, nor a well for that matter and things take time to prepare.
Before bed we “took tea” and the kids sang 3-4 really spirited worship songs. They danced and made sure we participated, then said one prayer and then it was time for tooth brushing and bed.
Sean, Charita, Amy and I all slept in the same room on bunks and on the dirt floor on foam pads. They made us a little nervous regarding security so we holed up in there together creating a teenage slumber party environment where there were all kinds of crazy stories told while we tried to keep our voices low to not wake up the kids in the next room. The metal buildings really were not that bad, and the dirt floor was really not that dirty. Kenyans have an interesting way of cleaning a dirt floor. They sweep it so frequently and wet it a little and add ash that it may be a dirt floor, but its not crawling with bugs and its almost as clean as if it were concrete. I grew up sleeping on the top bunk, so I took that, everyone else seemed concerned they might fall off without a railing! It was a bit hot at first because the metal on the ceiling was still hot from the day. Later though it got pretty chilly as the night went on. Sleeping in a place like this is such a good reminder of how little we need to get by and to still feel happy and taken care of.
The next morning we arose to beautiful mountains and a breakfast of a porridge drink (actually quite nice and filling) and a mandazi (sweet bread).
Then it was time to earn our keep by helping fetch the water from the water hole and sorting the maize. It took 4 people making 4 trips with big buckets to fill up the tank. The water was disgusting, stagnant with an oily film on the top and full of bugs. I couldn’t believe this was the water they had to use. They also trap rain water into a large drum for drinking water but if it runs out that is what they are drinking (after boiling it). Fortunately they are in the process of digging a well to have clean water. It will likely take a few more weeks because a local guy comes intermittently and digs with a shovel to make the well. I’ve seen very little mechanized equipment for what we would usually use, especially well digging. Sorting dried maize also takes forever. The idea is to get rid of the extra stones, bugs, etc. you don’t want to eat from the bag of maize that is purchased from the market. This includes looking through every piece to see if a bug has bored a hole into it. It usually takes 4-5 hours a day for a woman to do this alone. With the four of us it took 2-3 hours. Its pretty boring and your neck gets tired just looking down but it’s the way a lot of families or socialize and is also the way I’m getting to know a lot of the kids. It’s a huge help to the staff to sort maize (beans or rice) to free up time for Zebra to do other tasks around the orphanage.

On the way back we almost missed the last matatu again. We were too concerned with buying a cold drink at the market after drinking very warm, somewhat chunky water .None of us got sick, well actually Sean did a bit, but not too bad.

When we returned to the Punda orphanage, three new kids had arrived. George age 10, Dorkas age 5 and Issa age 3 were surrendered by their grandmother who could no longer care for them as she was dying from spinal cancer. Their mom had passed away 3 years earlier from an unknown disease just a month after Issa was born and their father had divorced their mother and is MIA.

They seem to fit in well with the other kids, though they are obviously really nervous and the younger ones follow George around timidly. When it was time to go to sleep on the first day they arrived I was trying to find open beds and bedding. The kids informed me I made a grave mistake by putting little Abdellah on the top bunk as it turns out he wets the bed every night. Opps! So I had to rearrange even though Abellah was so excited to be on the top bunk, and so begins to cry. Issa and George were in the dorm and almost ready for bed, but George left to try to make friends with a few kids in the hall. Issa was already scared but started balling while most of the other kids were sleeping. There was nothing I could do to calm him. Tears were flowing and he was looking at me and the whole room like ahhhh! Where am I and where is grandma? So I take him to his brother and ask his brother to sleep with him for the night to calm him down. Watching little Issa terrified and sad his first night in the orphanage away from his family while his brother was trying to be tough was gut wrenching. I sat with them for a while just rubbing both of their backs and telling them it’s going to be ok and things will get easier. I do believe life is going to get better for them. The other kids seem to be treating the 3 of them well but what an adjustment to have to deal with -away from their family at such a young age, in a foreign place and rural village. These kids were from the metropolis of Niarobi.

Because I hadn’t seen any of the others arrive, it felt like they must have arrived almost all together when the orphanage started three years ago. But it turns out some only arrived a few months ago and this happens quite frequently. The other volunteers and I left the dorm and just looked at each other and teared up. We tried to talk but we were all really a loss for words. I think all of us went to bed feeling a lot of mixed emotions that night. We felt lucky we have parents – no matter how crazy our families are and felt so sad and horrible for those scared kids. Just as we were about to go to bed, I remembered the kids all still have to take an HIV test. Fortunately the result was negative or they would have had to be sent somewhere else, as this orphanage is not equipped to administer all of the meds necessary. Not to mention these kids play rough and are getting scuffed up all the time and it could be a it would be a hazard to the other kids.

Thank you to those who have donated for the teacher! Every $5-20 goes along way so please help if you can, by donating on the button to the right.

I am finishing this blog from Nyahururu - try to say that one to get on a bus! I am heading to the Lake Turkana region (with Amy and Sean) in northern Kenya for a week or two then will be back at the orphanage. Transportation is hit and miss up there and it will certainly be interesting. Northern Kenya is known for their pastoral traditional tribes including the Samburu and Turkana tribes. I’m looking forward to learning more about this remote and wild area that few people visit.Because the internet wasn't working well before I left the orphanage this blog doesn't have many good photos sorry! Hopefully I'll add a few more after the fact because I took a bunch of fun ones.

Big hugs!

First two weeks in Africa

So I’m in Africa – Pundamillia, Kenya to be exact.

For starters it feels good to be here. Something had been drawing me away from my comfort zone, away from stability and the known for some time. Something has always told me to not accumulate much so I can sell it and go do just this – jump off to learn about the world, work and volunteer and see what happens. That spirit brought me here to learn and explore with an open mind what I can about Africa and see where I can help.

Why Africa? I’ve been reading about the Millennium Development Goals since I returned from my last big trip where I learned so much traveling in the developing nations of Indonesia, Vietnam, Laos and Cambodia and much of Central America and some of South America. It was a whirlwind trip, escape artist style where I left on a leave of absence from a great job for 6 months. I felt I needed to know more about how the rest of the world lived, what was true that I’ve learned and what was a stereotype and what I could learn for myself. I was changed by the experience in so many ways. 6 months after I returned, I found it was time to quit my job and follow this passion learning and assisting where I can. Much of the Millennium Development Goals work is focused in poverty stricken Africa, so I have found myself here.

How did I pick this orphanage to start? – it was somewhat randomly, but decisively after a lot of web researching. Watoto Wa Baraka Children’s Home was started by Geoffry Ndungu. Being an orphan himself he always wanted to give back and open a home for other kids who needed the same help he was fortunate to get. Three years ago he opened this orphanage for children in the area whose parents have died of AIDS families, suffer too much poverty to provide for their kids or were otherwise not able to take care of their children. Watoto sounded like a warm place to start and learn about Kenya from a man whose heart is into caring for the future generation of the surrounding community.

The first two weeks have been a whirlwind of hugging little kids at the orphanage, trying to learn all of their names, getting sick way too much and taking matatus (crowded public transportation minivans, with blaring music) all over the region.
The kids are the best – so sweet, loving and each with their own personality. The really have a family here, each of the 7 staff lives on the compound with their own family and the kids refer to the staff as “Daddy Geoff, “Uncle Zacky” (Geoffry’s brother) Aunt Grace (the cook) and so on each taking an active roll in every aspect of kids lives. The older kids help the younger ones with brushing their teeth, leading the group to go farming or helping with meals. They get along surprisingly well for some rough and tumble kids.

Learning the kids stories is sad and heartwarming at the same time. For instance three brothers Steven, John and Francis otherwise known as Mwangi, Little John and Francis were street kids, placed here by the court in 2009. A good Samaritan brought them to the Children’s Welfare Office so staff can only estimate how old they are. They will never know their real birthdays, but are guessed to be 3,4 and 5 but they are fortunate to be fed, cared for by 7 loving local staff and a cadre of international volunteers here for a week to a year at a time.

I’ve been fortunate be able to join Martha, the orphanage’s community outreach worker to visit some of approximately 70 children who are sponsored outside the orphanage. Community outreach is one of the options I can sign up for during the week along with farming, kitchen help, laundry, homework and coordinating activities. We walk from about 8:30 am- 1 pm on village paths, down dirt roads and through banana and corn farms to visit the schools where we check on the well being of the kids, find out what they need and make sure they have a school uniform, books, food, pens and pencils and that their health is good. If their health isn’t good, Martha arranges to take them to the doctor or gets medicine for their ailment. Somehow this is all paid for by international sponsors who pay $25 a month to take care of all of those things. So much good for so little money. What an eye opening experience to see the variety of class rooms and headmasters offices and situations the kids are dealing with. The kids are so intrigued by their “Muzungu” (white) visitor whether it’s on the street, or at the school they all want to touch me, shake my hand or touch my hair. Some of the little girls dare their friends to run up, touch me, then run away laughing out of reach.

The kids in the public schools share books, two to a student and there are about 70 kids per classroom. Many of the books look so tattered you wonder if you can read the pages. Some of them share pencils, have really tattered clothes when they are required to wear uniforms. One of the orphans here was told by their teacher to walk all the way back to get a pencil because they had no more to give him. You should see them fight for a pencil with a good eraser during homework time. None of the public schools I’ve seen so far have computers for their students or teachers. There is a small vocational school which has 3 computers for 30 or more kids which I plan to help out with Monday, but they look like they are from the dark ages. Many of the schools have dirt floors and some of the kids go to school with bare feet. I was dragged over to a nursery class, one not on our list of visits to see the kids the teacher said needed more help. She said 10 of her 30 kids come to school regularly without shoes, the same tattered outfit (not a school uniform) and no breakfast or lunch and no shoes. I couldn’t help it but start to cry a little, I tried to keep it together but these kids really were a mess. I left feeling like wow, their parents still have hope and are sending the kids to school anyways. They say they will buy uniforms and bring food for their kids and pay the school exam fees when they can but they never do. They teacher’s hands are tied, she keeps them there for hope as well.

I’m beginning to work on fundraising for a teacher to help with homework for the students at the orphanage. I have been told $1200 will fund a live in teacher for one year who can help get the 29 boys and girls who live here up to speed with their studies. I’m torn, because the nursery kids need sponsors but you can only take care of so many kids well and first I feel like this organizations need to help the kids at their own orphanage. As you can imagine, many of them have arrived here with no schooling, are behind for their age and need additional support and mentoring to catch up. A live in teacher can help in the evenings with their homework and create custom learning plans for the kids, monitor and mentor them as they grow as well as help with other important tasks for this budding orphanage. I’ve been trying to help the students with their homework with some success, but as volunteers we can only help so much. We need a teacher who can further explain in their tribal language and Kiwsahili, because the kids only know so much English. I certainly can’t help with their Kiswahilli homework, but they keep pointing to it with confused faces like please, come on, your old you know it! The staff comes in and out to help a bit, but they must dedicate their time to the various tasks of the orphanage. They even have space for them to live. I feel like this would be an amazing asset to the trajectory of these kids lives and I hope you will consider donating a little bit to ensure a brighter future for these kids, any more can help sponsor individual kids like the nursery ones I mentioned above. The orphanage is committed to sending these kids through high school and university, given their grades are sufficient and the program will support them until they can support themselves.

So far I’ve had three sicknesses in 2 weeks, not exactly how I wanted to start off the adventure, but I’m hoping I run all of bugs through my system early to harden by stomach. The first version I’ll call a one bucket version was one super bad day, and 3 living dead days. The second is a rash over most of my body that remains – I think from hand washing my laundry and leaving too much soap in the clothes, but it could be from something like the manure we were spreading around the banana trees who knows and the third was a two bucket night (one for both ends) – one of the worst nights I’ve ever had but I think I’m ok now. The worst part is that I only had one bucket in my room, the one I use to bathe, and I had hope for a moments reprieve so only one was enough. The situation worsened and I had to search for another bucket in the middle of the night so I didn’t have to stay at the community hole all night. Ugh! Welcome to Africa! I don’t’ know if it’s the food or if it’s lots of bugs from the kids – either way it’s been a rough start. The other volunteers and I have started thinking about making a restaurant/meal review with the number of buckets you’ll need after eating. Never fun to be sick when you have to run to a hole in the ground and shower in a bucket, but despite this, I’m actually very happy here believe it or not!

Volunteers pay $90 a week to the orphanage, $80 or so goes to support the build out of a new orphanage called Matheni not far from here, the rest pays the other staff’s salaries goes to support the ongoing programs such as food for the kids, their school fees and community outreach programs. Volunteers wash their own laundry live in simple rooms on the grounds and eat very simple meals that cost likely less than $5 a week. It feels like so much can be done with so little money here, which excites me and is getting my mind cranking.

What I’m eating:
My breakfast is chai tea, which I really like actually, a mix of fresh milk from their cow, water and tea leaves and 3 slices of white bread. I buy something to put on it at the market 40 minutes away. For lunch it’s usually rice and beans or beans and maize the beans and maize version is really bland and horrible to force down (even worse when I was sick, blah). Dinner is ugali which is similar consistency to mashed potatoes but with corn and lentils. That is about it. I’ve seen the prices for these items in restaurants and why my calculations is about $5. When you grow it yourself like the orphanage does it’s even cheaper so I know the money is going to a good place. I have been buying a lot of cheap fresh fruit to supplement this bland meal and keep happy. They grow mangos, bananas and avocados but much of it isn’t ready at the orphanage yet.

I’m not sure what I thought, but I figured African’s love to dance, it’s sort of a spicy festive culture right?– I would have expected some spicier interesting food, well not Kenya so far at least! Fortunately there are a lot of pineapples and I’ve found some ripe mangos, bananas and papayas in the markets. Yum!

There is so much more to say, but I’ll save it for the next update.




Support the project by making a donation, spreading the word or come for a visit and volunteer. There are so many ways that you can get involved. Email me to learn more or just say hi at robinelander@gmail.com. Also video skypeing is free and fun, (though very finicky) but this way you can see the kids yourself and they are so cute!

Support a teacher or support in general by clicking on the pay pal link on the site, and indicating your interest of where to put the funds I will make sure the funds go to the right place. (This function will be added shortly.) You can also donate directly to the organization at http://www.volunteerafricanorphanage.org/

Insights on the Garifuna Culture in Belize

Its been a long time since Ive written. I was so blown away by every thing in Asia that I just had to absorb it and not write about it but, the last almost three months now of traveling have been truly amazing. I learned so much in Indonesia, Vietnam, Laos and Cambodia and I surely need to catch up this blog with all of those tales, but I will have to do that a little later.

For now, I want to write about Belize and the Garifuna culture.I just spent two weeks in Belize in Belize City, Caye Caulker, Dangriga and Punta Gorda diving and studying the Garifuna culture.

The Garifunau people lived on the northern coast of South America. They settled there after recovering from shipwrecked slave ships from Africa. The Garifuna expanded into St. Vincent Island in the Carribean. The Spanish, French and English all wanted to colonize Carribean islands including St. Vincents, an area rich in spices and resources. The Garifunau are tough and were able to fight off the Spanish and French but surrendered to the British. The British made all of the Garifuna move from St. Vincents to Roatan Island in Honduras in terrible conditions and many died. After around 20 years in Roatan, the Honduras army ordered the women and children to leave and they brutally massacred the rest of the men. Anyone who escaped moved to Belize and formed several Garifuna communities. Some also now live in Guatemala in Livingston and some still live on the Carribean coast of Honduras and Nicaragua.

I stayed at Vals in Dangriga the center of Garifuna culture and music. I took this opportunity to take a drum class from the Dangriga drum school with some local kids. It was really fun, and I recommend it to anyone who goes to Dangriga. I learned the punta and the paranda rhythms. The punta is the music more internationally known thanks to Andy Palacio, a garifunau man from Belize who popularized the music in the last few years.

Because the Garifunau are a mix of two different ethnic groups, they men killed all of the men from a local tribe to marry all of thier women, Garifuna is the only language that has words reserved only for women and others just for men.

Once the Garifunau arrived in Belize they were given a curfew by the British and the local creoles. They had a bad reputation as baby killers and canibals even know they werent. They were told they must not practice thier rituals and must blend into the culture. Instead they continued to live thier lives in private, contining thier ceremonies to celebate and keep in touch with thier ancestors and making cassava bread and keeping thier own language. Today very little is left, but Andy Palacio and his punta rock music have made the youth proud of thier black garifuna roots and thier is a rivival of the culture and music going on today. There is an effort by local mothers and a newly created National Garifuna Council to try to preserve the culture as much as possible and teach the language in schools. The language was excluded from the school curiculum until recently. Many efforts are being made to preserve the culture including a Garifuna Museum, programs to teach kids the culture and dance. Each year Belize celebrates a national holiday called Garifuna Settlement Day on Nov. 17 where the whole country celebrates with a week long festival of Garifuna music and song. I wish I could see that...I will have to plan a future trip around that. It is truly amazing that any of the culture still exists today. Now more Garifuna live in Los Angeles, Chicago and New York than in Belize. The entire country of Belize only has 300,000 people. The Garifuna makes up maybe only 50,000 or less of Belize. There are estimates that over 250,000 now live in the U.S. Nicaragua has supposedly lost most of its Garifuna language. A Belizan Garifanau traveled there and could no longer speak with his ethnic group and they no longer retain some of the same ritual.

Belize is such a melting pot of cultures. Besides the Garifunau, Belize is home to Maya, Menonites, yes like German Amish and many Asian people. Belize City seems to be a stop over point for people to work before accessing U.S. visas.

Photos from Bira Beach Indonesia

These guys scared me at first. They approached me with a shot gun from a small boat when I was walking down a deserted beach! My heart was beating a million times a minute, but then I realized I had met them earlier in the morning but they had a different outfit and I didn't see thier camouflage boat. After realizing they just wanted to show me around, I got on the boat and had a day trip with them to a near by island and met the head of the local Muslim Village. Then they introduced me to the principal of the local school. What an amazing random day with the Indonesian Navy! There is more to say but I'll have to tell you in person.

Here a few new friends from the beach.

These kids said "Excuse me Mrs. can I practice my English?"So they came up on my porch for a while just to chat!

Toraga Houses

Here is a photo of some traditional houses in Sulawesi, Indonsia.

In Sulawesi

I traveled to Gili Tragawan off the coast of Lombok (Indonesia) last week. It was a fabulously relaxing place. A small village on an island about 45 minutes off the coast by fishing boat. It's a chain of three islands Gili Tragawan, the largest, Gili Meno (middle) and Gili Air (the smallest and closest island). I met more people from all over the world than I've met in my whole life. I talked to people from Germany, France, Holland, Austrailia, England and Belgium over the past few days, I've actually be practicing alot of old rusty French from high school. Didn't really expect to use that on this trip!

Yesterday I was waiting for quite a while in the Materham airport in Lombok and met a new friend from Jakarta, a business man who was trying to get to his wife in Yojyakarta who was in labor. He was so stressed out about getting to her then the flight was delayed for 5 hours and then he was going to miss his connection. He was so worried about his wife. He said, "She is small, I worry about her giving birth. She is not big like you. She is very little and cute." Too funny and cute.

I missed my connection along with many others in Surabya and the airline put us up in a hotel. It was actually the nicest one I've stayed in with aircon what a treat. We needed to get up 5 hours later to get on another flight. Journalists were at the aiport doing a story on the airline company Lion Air because I guess they are notorious for being late. Opps, way to pick the best airline.

Today I'm in Makassar Sulawesi and it is a HUGE city and rather overwhelming. It started to rain in the afternoon so I studied my Bahasa Indonesian in a restaurant. Later I took I walk and it started pouring and a nice store keeper asked me to sit down in her shop. I ended up staying for two hours talking and practicing Indonesian and teaching her teenage kids English. Their English was a lot better than my Indonesian. Saya belajar bahasa Indonesia= I'm studing Bahasa Indonesia.

Tonight I'm contemplating taking a cross town taxi to meet up with some "couchsurfers" from couchsurfing.com. They are supposedly cooking together at a guy's house across town. I have an address. Do I dare to just hop into a taxi and cross town at night. I would really rather not, but maybe I can find some one to go with me.

My time in Indonesia is going pretty fast, there is so much to do and so many places to see.

I've been sick a few times but nothing too bad, but I really have to be careful with food. I am conservative but they tend to cook things and save it to serve another day and I don't think they reheat it enough and it is to my demise. Now I have a cold. I guess I'm getting introduced to alot of new bugs.

Tomorrow or maybe the next day I am taking a bus to Rantepao 8 hours north to study the culture of the Torajan people. They have very unique burial customs and have many ceremonies and festivals that go on through out the year associated with the burials. Yes I know very weird that I want to see a burial ritual, but it sounds incredibly interesting and extravagant. I may take a trek to visit these indigenous tribes.

I'm currently staying at the New Legend Hostel in Makassar.

Ok, I need to get going back out in the rain and go back to my hotel before it gets too dark. Hugs.