The Tiredest Leg in the World

So, most days, my wife is one of the most graceful people that I know. Athletic, great dancer, light on her toes. Yes, I'm kissing up. Because she does not want me to discuss those other days where balance and grace seem to evade her. Coming down Mt. Kenya was one of those special days. To her credit, the guide said that she hiked better than anyone he had in recent memories. We'd also been climbing up and down Mt. Kenya for 5 days. Nevertheless, I chose to lag about 10 feet behind her and our awesome guide, Hiriam, and watch the show. As I've said before, it cracks me up when people fall, especially when those people are my hot wife.

First, Heather walked into a large clump of strawish grass that was about chest high. Hiram said it was some type of mountain heather, actually. It was just a bit off the trail, and she hit it with half her body. I giggled a bit from the trail behind her, so she stopped to explain that she was just wiping some mud from her boot. Next, she managed to hit some scrub brush with her left arm and shoulder hard enough that it spun her 180 degrees. Again, I laughed, and she stopped to explain that her rain gear was dirty, and she was just cleaning it off. Apparently, she likes to clean her coat off as hard as possible. My sister used to do the same thing when we were kids. She'd slam into the frame of a doorway as she walked through it, then deny that it ever happened. I never understood it, but apparently many women have this gene.

The walking then got pretty slick and the three of us took our turns slipping and sliding down the moutain. We hit a dry patch once we got down into the jungle and started to pick up the pace some. Suddenly, I watched as Heather's left leg just gave up, curled under her body, and she straight bit it. There was no water, mud or inclement condition. She was a victim of the tiredest leg in the world. Heather popped back up again almost as fast as she went down, walking as if nothing had happened.

"You're hoping that I didn't see that, right?" She looked back, and started cracking up.

The mountain is beautiful. We miraculously had great weather, actually missing a storm on the top by about a half hour. And, our guide fed us as if we were 4 people and not just the 2 of us.
If ever in Kenya, call up Hiram Munuhe and go for a hike up the mountain.

Big mountain. Little Heather and Hiram.


One of the huts with Nelion Peak behind it.

Tea at 16,500 feet.

So happy and full of energy.

Then so tired you pass out cold on a table. That bundle on the left is Heather.



Then on a bench.

Going on a Hike

It is crazy, but our 2 month commitment to the home is already up. We've hugely enjoyed working here, and I could easily see us coming back at some point. Just have to figure out a little thing called MONEY. Our plan now is to travel around for the next month and see some of the country. We leave today to hike Mount Kenya. The rainy season has officially begun, though, so we'll just have to see how it goes. I'm sitting here in shorts and a tee shirt, but it looks to be snowing up on the mountain. So please go tell your local weatherman to predict cold, rain and snow for the area. That way, we'll be sure to get some sunshine.

Here's a few pics from our last couple weeks.



It was potato peeling day the other day. Interesting to watch. First, peel the potato. Second, scratch your legs and feet with the knife. Third, resume peeling the potato. Fourth, dinner.
One of Heather's art projects. You, too, can have your own little Hannibal Lecter.

I have a really, really hard time looking at this one. It weirds me out.


We had a surprise birthday celebration for Zach. He liked the cake. Really, just look at him.

Briefly in the lead.
Things are done a bit differently here.

There's a Slight Hill Next to Moshi

Turns out, there's a slight hill next to Moshi called Kilimanjaro. So, Heather and I headed to Moshi, Tanzania last Thursday so that I could run in the annual Kilimanjaro Maratho. It is called the Kilimanjaro Marathon, but they offer a half marathon, which I happily entered. So that we would not have to travel at night, Heather and I left a day before Titus and Douglas, the two coaches that I work with here at Tumaini, along with their good friend, Phabius. There have been a rash of car jackings around Nairobi lately, and it is not the greatest place to be traveling after dark. Reputation of "Nairobby" aside, Nairobi was great. I ate a decent knockoff of an American cheesburger at the Nairobi Java House, and even split a vanilla and chocolate chip milkshake. It was an even split - 80% mine and 20% Heather's. Bless her, she knows my sweet tooth is not to be trifled with.

Titus, Douglas and Phabius arrived early the following morning, and we hopped onto the bus for the 9+ hour ride to Moshi. The crossing into Tanzania was to cost anywhere from $25 to $50 for Americans, but was free for Kenyans. Nevertheless, upon our arrival, we were informed that the cost for Americans and Irish was now $100 per person. By contrast, Kenya had only cost $25 to enter, and, stupidly, I assumed the cost for Tanzania would be similar. Seemed just arbitrary enough to be real. I have since verified that this new law has been in effect since 2007 through some sweet U.S. legistation that requires a flat fee but allows multiple border entries. Other countries have the option to request a multiple entry visa, but can choose to purchase a much cheaper single entry pass. Hmmmm. We scraped together a mix of American dollars and shillings and made it across, much lighter in the wallet.

We loaded back onto the bus and made our way to Moshi relatively uneventfully. We did blow out a tire about 30 km from the town of Arusha. It didn't bother us much though, as the driver chose to continue driving as if there was no problem. We switched buses in Arusha, got into Moshi and found a hotel.

The next morning, we rose early to do some warmup jogging (running for me, jogging for my Kenyan friends), ate at another good coffee shop called the Kilimanjaro Coffee Lounge, and walked around the town some. I was a bit nervous for the race, so I couldn't rest or relax completely. Plus, the warmup run of 5 miles, together with a walk around town of 5 more miles was more than I should have done.

Our alarm sounded at 5 a.m on Sunday, then again at 5:15 a.m. All the guys were competing in the half, so we met outside. Heather wanted to take pictures of us, so, like a trooper she loaded up our camera gear and valuables and walked the 2 miles to the start of the race.

My race last November was difficult because it was my first half marathon, it was hot, and there were 30,000 people running in it. This was difficult because the race organizers chose to begin the race with a 6.55 mile climb up the lower slopes toward the base of Mt. Kenya. My Garmin says the race started at about 2900 feet, and rose steadily to 4,128 feet in elevation. At the end of the 6.55 miles, the runners turned 180 degrees on a 2 lane road and ran back down hill. The last mile or so before the turn was a particularly rough climb, then to turn and immediately run back downhill was brutal on the legs, but the change of direction felt so nice. Right before the turn, I was on a 9:33 mile pace, but almost instantly after the turn, I was on a 5:51 pace. I was briefly worried that my feet were going to go right out from under me. Things felt pretty good for the next 5 miles, but I started to tire around mile 12. Unluckily, at about that time, I passed an open air butcher on the roadside. Freshly cut goat is not a good smell at mile 12. But, luckily, shortly thereafter a group of Tanzanian school kids chose that moment to run with muzungu for a quarter mile or so. It gave me a needed push to the end.

The times aren't posted yet, but I think I finished in about 1:40, about the same time as I ran before, but on a much harder course. My Kenyan friend fared much better. Titus finish in about 1:11, Douglas in about 1:20 and Phabius in about 1:21. Titus looked completely fresh after the race, and was heartened by his performance where he had only intended a nice "jog".

The morning we headed back to Nairobi. After an 11 hour return ride, Heather and I decided to stay another night in Nairobi. Our friends hopped on a matatu and completed the trip back to Nyeri. While in Nairobi, we visited both the "Animal Orphanage" and "Elephant Orphanage". These are two good projects displaying Kenya's ever increasing support of their wildlife. If ever in Nairobi, check it out.


Three Kenyans all smiling in one photo? Has to be a first.
Douglas likes to strike a pose.
Somewhere around the fifth muzungu across the line. I would venture to say there were a few hundred Kenyans and Tanzanians as well.
Happily finished with my lady friend.
Clouds cleared for a nice view of Kilimanjaro. It was hard for me to see with all the sweat and tears blocking my view.

Crowned Heron at the Animal Orphanage.
Little guy sliding in for some water.
Terrible two year olds.

Field Day

We held a field day for about 170 kids on Saturday. Unbelievably, we made it through without any injuries. Heather, Zach and I may have done some damage to our vocal cords, but that would be the extent of it. There was a 5k race, field events (composed of sack race, wheelbarrow race, and 3 legged race), sprints, relays and a soccer tournament. The kids were additionally arranged on teams to compete against one another, with prizes given to the winners.

It has been raining by the pound here lately, so it was a pretty muddy 5k course. Nevertheless the winning boy came through in 18:24, and the winning girl in 21:05. The sack race, though, was the crowd favorite. I find it hysterical when people eat it, and I don't seem to care if they are kids or not.

As usual, we took a ton of pictures. Also as usual, we had a computer crash that ate about 600 pictures. Fortunately, we were able to download a program that recovered about half the pics. Here are a few.

Two Muzungus (White People) in a Matatu (Taxi)

This is kind of a long one. Our friend, Virginia invited us to travel to Nanyuki, see a local wool-weaving cooperative, and then visit a trout farm. The ride there was pretty uneventful, but it was our longest matatu ride to date. A matatu is the Kenyan crossbreed of a bus and a taxi. The breed is not often pretty. Minivans are used to transport people along set routes. Matatus typically come in 2 sizes – 14 person matatus and 10 person matatus. Occasionally, you will see a 7 seater. The 7 seater is like a smart Aggie. I hear they exist, but I've never seen one.

So, it was interesting to see the different plants that the weavers used to dye the spun wool. The cooperative provides a way for single/widowed women to earn some money and have a steady occupation. Nevertheless, there is only so much wool a person can look at.

After Nanyuki, we explored a group of shops situated on the equator, which is kind of a tourist spot. In a flash, was as if I had become my mother, Ron Draeger or Gerarld Kurio. Everything instantly became negotiable. I remember being on a trip with Draeger one time and we were buying some groceries at a large grocery store for a camping trip. This is in the U.S., mind you. Draeger attempted to negotiate down the price of the groceries. “I’ll give you a dollar for that bread. C’mon, what do you care?”

My conversations with the various dealers echoed in a similar tone. “That bracelet costs 750 shillings ($10.00)? Really, how about 150 ($2.00)?.....Now 600 shillings, how about 150? 500? Here’s 150. Ok, deal.” Kinda spooky.

After shopping, we headed to the trout farm in yet another matatu. We were dropped off on the side of the road generally in the area of the farm. After following Virginia for 20 minutes as she traipsed through a cow pasture in high-heeled shoes, I began to doubt that we were in the right spot. The bells ringing from the necks of the cattle around us made me question our path. Nevertheless, a short time later, we ran into the road to farm. Virginia was right on the money. Turns out the farm actually has an amazing restaurant that goes with it.

The restaurant is built around an ancient, giant fig tree. Colubus monkeys hopped from branch to branch eating figs. We took a seat and had our best meal to date. Smoked trout, grilled trout and masala trout. Soooooooo good to have a meal without corn. The trout reminded me of our trips to Montana when I was a kid. Fish fresh out of a stream, covered with salt, pepper, lemon and onion, wrapped in foil and thrown in the coals of the campfire. Again, soooooooo good.

We finished up, and headed for home. I was supposed to run with the kids at 4:30, so we left the restaurant around 3, figuring we had plenty of time. We hiked back to the road, and were met, almost immediately, by a matatu. The three of us hopped in. Heather and Virginia in the back, and I took the position next to the sliding door. Matatus are typically manned by a 2 person team - the driver and the solicitor, who gets people to take the ride.

The solicitor slid into the seat behind me. The driver punched the gas. We lurched forward, with the sliding door wide open. We rode for about 50 meters, and the solicitor pushed the door shut. The door, however, did not comply, and ground to a halt about half-closed. The driver continued over the protests of the solicitor. I must say that I did not mind the breeze. Finally, the driver stopped to address the open door. Likely, the police would not have let us continue, or, more likely, would have extracted a large fine from the driver. The solicitor and a buddy jumped out and went to work on the door, which, in turn, immediately fell off the matatu. I was curious how we would continue. Heather laughed from a couple rows behind me.

After 10 to 15 minutes, with the driver, solicitor and their buddy working and conferrig, the door was somehow placed back onto the van. It looked shaky, to say the least. The solictor asked me to slide over a spot, and he took my seat. He then reached into the front and fetched a piece of homemade rope, which was looped through the door. I cracked up.

On trips of this sort, I have often had a moment when I realize that things are out of my hands, and others are in charge. Backpacking Europe, I had a strict regimen of countries to visit and cities to explore. Except, trains rarely showed up on time. After a couple weeks, my friends and I would drink wine, play cards, and hop whatever train actually did show. In Peru, our van blew out a tire on the first day travelling to the clinic. I think we piled 12 people, plus medical supplies into one small SUV. Obviously, I was not going to make it back in time to run with the kids.

We continued in this manner. I was certain that the matatu would not take more people on due to the door. At the next stop, three more got on, bringing our total number of people on board to a record of 22. After a few more stops, the solicitor worked on the door for a while more. It appeared his buddy was able to pry the bent rail to allow the door to slide shut. Everyone clapped and laughed. Confident, the driver stomped on the gas. 200 meters down the, the door fell off completely. Sparks flying on the road, and the solicitor hanging on to the door for dear life.

Again, the door was pried on to the rail, and it somehow managed to stay that way the remainder of the trip. We pulled in to the home at 6:15p.m., just missing my scheduled time of 4:30. Some pics for you. Again, click on them to enlarge.
kk

A typical 14 seater matatu.

A typical number of passenger (inclusive of muzungu).


Heather thoroughly enjoying the pleasant ride.

My riding companion.

I'm sure this complied with U.S. car manufacturing standards.
Just like home at the Texas Shop.
Those two buckets show how the water twirls different ways at the equator.
Spun wool.

Trout Tree Restaurant.

Sooooo good.

Little Bit of Fun

SO, we've had some fun lately. A week or so ago, I showed the ladies in the kitchen how to make tortillas, which they loved. They asked for more that afternoon and the next day. Tortillas are very similar to the traditional Kenyan "chipati," which are cooked in oil on the “jiko or giko” a little charcoal grill. Not quite as healthy, but mighty tasty hot off the grill. Every Kenyan woman seems to know how to make them, and we have had them at two different houses, as well as on special occasions here at Tumaini. A few days later the kitchen was full of students and cooks plucking bits off a mountain of dough and rolling out chipati. Kris grabbed the camera and took some great pictures, some of which you’ll see below.

Later that week, we were invited to one of the cook's houses for lunch. Mary is one of the sweetest people here, and we were happy to go for a visit. We met her husband, Stephen, and four kids, and she and a friend had cooked us mokimo, rice, stew, chipati, and cabbages. It was quite a spread, and the stew had the tastiest – and most tender – meat we've had so far. The living room was set up with all the sofas and chairs lined around the room and covered with white doilies, which were nicely offset by the red velvet couches. Mary’s kids and others from neighboring houses ran back and forth in front of the house, peeking in at us, just a little shy of the visiting white people. After eating and conversing for quite a while, we went outside to the back of the house to see the chickens and goats and explore the shamba (garden). I fell immediately in love with the three little two-week old goats, none of them shy. They nibbled at my shoes and I scratched their backs as they hopped around. Then, with Stephen as our guide, we went back into the field behind the house and traipsed through corn and coffee plants on the way to visit his parents. They, along with his brother, all share the shamba, whish has some of the tallest corn plants I’ve ever seen, as well as an avocado tree that must have been way over 25 feet tall.

After the tour, the oldest son brought out plastic garden chairs, where we sat to watch Stephen as he took at ten-foot pole of sugar cane and whacked off the skin with his panga (a big, heavy, general purpose knife). Then he cut foot-long pieces of cane and handed them to us to knaw on. We sat in a semi-circle chewing on the cane, sucking the juice out, and spitting the remaining fibers into a flat basket on the ground. It was great!

When the clouds that had been gathering about us finally released a sprinkling of rain, our party moved the veranda. More conversation ensued, and then we noticed that Mary had gone into the kitchen to start dinner. Wait ... more food? Turns out that they wanted, and expected, us to stay for another meal! It was very kind, but we had to leave and get back to the home. They lock the gates at six, Zach had been reprimanded one time when he was late. (The other time he climbed over the fence). Stephen kindly offered to drive us back, so Mary, the littlest boy, and we three climbed in the car and headed home.

This past Saturday, we took another trip to a trout farm and a town called Nanyuki with a friend, Virginia, who teaches at the secondary school. Either Kris or I will write about it soon.

hjk
This is one of the market stands were we get our fruits and vegetables.

Thought you may need a close up.


Showing off some chipati.
Hot Potato!
Our friends Rachel and Grace.

Ngai, But Krees, Ah'm So Tyahed!

So, I feel as if it's been a little while since I wrote anything. I feel like talking about my experience running with the kids over here. I remember first talking to people about the Hope Runs program, and how Heather and I were going to help coach the Kenyan kids to run. I do believe that the most common response I received was,"Ha! You all are going to teach Kenyans to run?" Again, more often than not, there were squinty eyes and a smirk behind the question.

First of all, I was usually careful to say "help coach," and not "teach." I do understand my limitations as a 35 year old former real estate attorney. Second, yes, many of these kids are fast. Real fast. One of the Grade 8 kids ran an 18:30 five kilometer race last year as either a 12 or 13 year old. That's crusing along at about a 5:58 per mile. There's another kid who ran a 9:47 in the 3000 last year when he was 16. That's around a 5:14 per mile average. Um, yes...again, I say this is fast. As in, "Damn.....did you see how fast that kid is?" Third, and I think what most everyone, including your humble blogger, forgot is that these are kids. I don't care what country you are in, there are kids who will hate to run, especially when it is mandatory.

I'm going to give you an example. This Christmas, my inlaws were unbelievably kind, and gave me a Garmin GPS trainer. I'm using the thing non-stop. (Except for last week, when I caught a stomach bug/worm or microbe). Here are two workouts I've done in the past few days on the exact same trail. One is with the kids, and one is by myself. Guess which one was with the kids. Remember, it is the exact same trail.

Garmin Connect - Activity Details

Garmin Connect - Activity Details

You may first note that on one map, my route shows thicker in some areas, indicating that I was running back and forth repeatedly over the same trail. Or, you may have noticed that while one trail was 4.59 miles, the other was 5.7 miles. Again, for the same trail. Others of you may have noticed that one trail took approximately twice as long to complete. Finally, the more adept of you may have seen that I entitled one Big Loop by Self, and the other Big Loop with Kids.

Anyway, the point is that we are working with children. As a result, while some kids may be flying through the workout, I'm at the back hearing, "Ngai, but Krees, Ah'm so tyahed. " I hear this a lot. Ngai is Kikuyu for God, by the way.

Obviously, all of this is said jokingly. It is interesting, though, that across cultures, kids are still kids. And, these kids just started their running training right when we got here. Over the last month, the kids at the back have dropped about a minute and a half to two minutes from their mile times. Even those that don't want to are improving in spite of themselves. Makes me feel good about our time here :)

As usual, here are a few pics.
Kasper


My feet post-run. Please note the redish hue and stubby toes.

Heather's feet post-run. Please note the redish hue, but dainty ankles and shapely calves.

The Kenyans like to eat a tortilla-esque flatbread called "chipati." It is really good. Unlike tortillas, it is cooked in oil. The kids made a batch of it a few days ago out of this torso-shaped mound of dough.
Cooking of the chipati.
Our good friend Elizabeth, tired from getting 30 kids to cook the chipati.