Sweet.

This is the view from my buddy Richard's back porch. Sweet.


Things are going well so far. We are enjoying our time at Haggai quite a bit, and have stayed nice and busy. I've probably vacuumed and mopped one hectare of commercial grade carpet and tile. I have no idea how many rooms Heather has cleaned in the past week and a half. When I say clean, I mean real, real, real clean. We are talking clean the A/C vents with a toothbrush kind of clean. Heather is talking about us giving our house a deep clean like this when we get back to Texas. When you're talking about cleaning a house with a toothbrush, baby, there is no us. I'm out!

Some of you all have asked what we are doing here, and what kind of missionary work can be done in Hawaii. To quote my buddy Hobbs, "Maui, huh? That's struggling for Jesus." From its website "Haggai Institute was founded in 1969 to equip Asian, African and Latin American Christian leaders — who will train others — to reach their own people for Christ." In a nutshell, as a volunteer, we keep the place clean so that the men and women who participate can focus on learning more. The participants in this program are pretty incredible. It's pretty cool to see three ladies from Ghana, Phillippines and Brazil all sitting around a table having dinner together.

Here's some Hawaiian pics:
This is just a really big tree with a hot chick sitting under it.
On our trip up Mt. Haleakala, our van broke down.

Twice.

Sunset from our building.And, she's happy to be here.

My backpack's gone

Heather and I just landed in Hawaii to start work with our next program at the Haggai Institute in Maui. We are really excited to get here, and it seems like it will be very interesting work. There are something like 20 different countries currently represented here. Pretty cool.

Anyways, I realized that due to sheer laziness and sloth, I never got around to writing about our last couple weeks in Kenya and Tanzania. After arriving in Zanzibar, I got a text from Merle (that's my mom's nickname, but only I can call her that) asking if I'd packed up my guns and put them in storage before we left for Africa. My first thought was, "My backpack's gone, my backpack's gone, my backpack's gone." And, obviously, this requires some explanation.

After college, a big group of my friends backpacked Europe for 6 weeks or so. By backpacking, I mean we rode the train all over the country. My buddy Matt, took a side trip away from the rest of us to drop his then-girlfriend off in Rome, so that she could catch a flight back to the states. On his way back to meet up with us, the entire car he was in was gassed by thieves. Sadly, this was, and I think still is, relatively common. The thieves run medical tubing up the hall of the train car, and slip it under the doors of the individual rooms. Then they pump laughing gas under the door, and knock everyone out. Old Matty Cakes woke up to find himself alone and sans backpack. Matt told me his first words upon waking were, "My backpack's gone, my backpack's gone, my backpack's gone." His Italian thieves were a relatively considerate group. They took his camera, but left his film. Took his walkman, but left his CD's. Dude, we had CD's then, and no mobile phones. I, and most of you, dear readers, are getting old.

Soooo, Merle's second text let me know that our house outside of Georgetown got robbed while we were gone. Luckily, I hand put many of our valuables into storage. The Texas thieves were not as considerate as Matt's Italians, though. They stole the Kawasaki mule, but also took our trailer to load it. They also stole the hitch to steal the trailer. They also topped the mule off with gase, and took the air compressor to pump up the tires. They hit Mom and Randal pretty hard by stealing their custom cowboy hats and boots. You want to see a former West Texas DPS office get pissed, take his size 14 custom alligators. Who does that?

Two days after finding out we got robbed in Texas, we got robbed in Zanzibar. Two robberies in two countries in two days. Luckily, they did not get too much, but the circumstances were kind of a kick in the junk. We had some cash and traveler's checks stolen out of the hotel safe......at the church hostel that we were staying at. Hopefully, we've met our theft quota for the next couple years.

The rest of Zanzibar was incredible, though. It is a predominately muslim city, so we were a bit nervous being westerners. However, our fears were a bit misplaced, as we were robbed by the christians. The food was incredible- seafood, curries, and spices that were non-existant in Central Kenya. Most definitely a place to go back to.

Finally, we then took a short flight back to Nairobi and took a van to the Masai Mara in western Kenya. It was like going to the zoo and knocking down all the fences. You could look out at any one time and see an ostrich standing next to a Thompson's gazelle and some warthogs, while a couple hyena ran around in the background. Absolutely unbelievable. Our guide, John, from Best Camping Tours, on the other hand, was kind of a shizaster. The extent of his input would be to say "buffalo," together with a nod of the head as we drove through a herd of a couple hundred. John also got hammered drunk most nights, chain smoked in the van, and managed to get us stuck in the mud next to a cheetah. All the other vans mysteriously drove around us, as we got out and pushed. John then topped it off by getting detained by the park rangers and was denied service at our hotel. More like, Kind of Marginal Camping Tours.

That's all I've got on Kenya. Talk to you about Hawaii soon.
kk

Up a Tree

Second Installment:

At Diani, we found a little “eco-lodge” place to stay for a couple of nights. Our room was up a ladder in a little basket house set on concrete stilts. Mosquito nets covered both the little twin beds and helped to catch the peanut shells spread all over the room by a mysterious visitor the second night. (Kris took a great picture of the little animal that is suspect in this case). The lodge had an open main area where all the visitors gathered to read, eat, and talk. We met some interesting characters there, and enjoyed the proximity to the beautiful beach about a five minutes’ walk away. There, we sat at on comfy chairs at Forty Thieves, the local – and rather cool – bar, ordered decent food and drinks, and watched skydivers land on the sand in front of us. We watched people take camel rides and even shopped, as locals will come and offer their wares repeatedly from a safe distance.

Two nights at the eco-lodge was enough for us, and we finally headed toward our last destination on another ten-hour bus ride. This ride, which we ended up taking without any food or water, led us to make the decision that we were flying home. Remember: when travelling in any third-world country, ALWAYS bring your own bottled water, a snack, and toilet tissue. There is no guarantee any of the above will be provided.

At last, we reached Dar es Salaam, a bit too late to catch the ferry to Zanzibar. We crashed in a little hotel and had a great dinner at a place called Chef’s Choice. They had the best fresh chapati, and we enjoyed some good - and spicy - chicken and beef, which had been scarce during our stay in Kenya. We also ended up sharing out table with an interesting Swedish lady who owned a store in Zanzibar. Both of us liked the fact that people aren’t afraid to ask if they can share a table when the restaurant is crowded.

The next morning we boarded a sleek modern ferry for the ride to Zanzibar, and finally, we arrived on the spice island. What a great place. The only regret we have is that we didn’t have enough time. We needed about four more days to explore the northern part of the island for scuba diving and the beaches. As it was though, we enjoyed a snorkeling trip and several days of winding through the narrow streets of Stone Town, the old part of Zanzibar. We stayed in an old church hostel – one of the last sites of the slave trade. The pulpit in the church behind the hostel stands exactly in the place where the shipping post stood. Our room had old tiled floors, high ceilings, and doors out onto a balcony where we could watch people passing in the street. Most of Stone Town is traversed on foot because the narrows streets prevent cars from passing through, so we walked every day. Women walk by in traditional Muslim and Indian dress, or in brightly colored fabrics called kangas. Most of Zanzibar is Muslim, so early in the morning and again in the evening we heard the eerie and beautiful call to prayer. Combined with a hint of incense and sea salt in the heavy air, we felt ourselves in a mysterious and foreign land, and we loved it!

Zanzibar has wonderful spiced tea, and they even spice the coffee. A tiny place near the hostel served local Swahili food, pastries and drinks, and was our favorite place for tea. There we ate a good-sized meal (and I had the tastiest bowl of coconut octopus soup!) for less than three dollars. It’s like they’re giving it away!

Since Zanzibar is a spice island, we went on a tour to see how spices are grown. It was cool to see a clove tree and lemongrass, and all the other spices in their natural state. Sometimes the entire tree smells like a familiar spice. The only mishap was when an evil plant stung me (and I’m writing this so that Kris can post another one of his favorite pictures here). It hurt like fire for about 20 minutes. The guides were like, “Hmmm … we’ve head of that, but never seen it. You must have soft skin.” Thanks, guys. They later rubber on another plant to make it feel better… ish.

Drink irresponsibly. Nice motto for people living in trees. Safety first.
Pretty cool, but lacking an A/C.
Nom, Nom, Nom.

BACK IN THE U.S.

Well, we have made it back. We've been dying to write about our last month of travels. Heather has been working on the last writeup, which, I think, well need to be broken apart into a 3-part miniseries. You know, something like Lonesome Dove but without horses and guns. Here's her first crack:

After our wonderful trip up and down Mt. Kenya (which didn’t involve AS much falling as the previous posting might have suggested), we went back to Tumaini for a few days to say goodbye. At our last weekly Fellowship, Kris and I got up to say a few words and let the kids know that we were finally leaving. As Kris spoke, I started looking around at all the faces we’d grown to know in the past couple of months. I tried to think of some sage advice to help inspire them after we left, but as I looked at them I suddenly got all choked up and started to bawl. It didn’t stop for the rest of Kris’ speech or when we sat down, and began with renewed vigor when the little girls surrounded me and started singing a goodbye song with tears in their eyes. Wow. Leaving was definitely more difficult than we expected. We wished, as the kids requested requested, that we could fit some of them into our bags and take them home. By the next morning we (me) had it under control, and we packed into a cab, said some final goodbyes, and left for Nairobi. Though sad to leave our home and new friends of two months, we were very excited to start exploring more of the country.

Since we’re not scared to travel like the locals (and it fits nicely into the budget of the purposefully unemployed), we took matatus, which Kris has described in an earlier blog, shuttles, and big buses down to Mombasa. It was about a 10 hour trip down to the coast. We spent one night in Mombasa in a nice hotel with a/c and a fantastic Chinese restaurant located just around the back. It was so good. After two months in Central Kenya, Kris and I were craving some spicy, tasty food, and this place satisfied both. It was also interesting to watch a large party of Chinese boat workers, who were personally seated and catered to by the owner, party it up after a day of hard work. Assorted bottles of alcohol were placed, family style, on the lazy susan in the middle of the table, and they took shots between Tusker beers and tasty food. We were tempted to join in, but our Mandarin is a little rusty, and we were too worn out after our daylong bus ride.

The next morning we headed out through the streets of Mombasa led by some man who attached himself to us as soon as we stepped off the portico of the hotel. At first it was a bit irritating, we having had our share of “helpful” people on the street. Near the end, however, we were both thankful to have had him along, as he warded off other “guides” and aggressive local salesmen. He led us around Fort Jesus, a thick-walled Portuguese fort built right on the beautiful coastline, through the spice market, and then through the meat market where they sold live chickens along with bits of goat and camel for a good price. We purchased a few spices, said goodbye to our guide, and decided that it was time to head on down to Diani Beach.

hjk

That's it for now, we'll pick it up again soon. Here's some more pics.
Fort Jesus - Don't mess with the Jesus.
Spikes to keep off the elephants. Seriously.
Tried to get Heather to act out Blue Lagoon, but she was not down with it.

Spices. Not used anywhere in the Central Highlands.

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.