Education is the light

A final graduation in Dzaleka Dowa refugee camp in Malawi. This camp is only a quarter of the size of Kakuma, and they know how to make bricks, so the conditions are much better here. Twenty-eight new Regis Rangers! The procession starts with a parade through the camp. I like it; the paths are lined with children and their parents cheering their role models on. Singing, dancing (the salsa dancers that won “Malawi's Got Talent” perform; no kidding) and many speeches. The student speaker: "It is like the sun has risen and given us the light." It is hard to leave behind such kind, gracious people who have every reason to be bitter and angry, and yet are full of hope and vision. Yet it is time to go home. We’re ready to take a hot shower, drink tap water, not worry about malaria-crazed mosquitoes, and use a flush toilet. Yes, we’re sissies. No idea of what the next adventure may be; stay tuned.

We’re ready to go, but don’t want to leave

Packed and ready to head to Malawi. A tangled set of emotions — we’re ready to go, but we don’t want to leave. Didn’t expect the enthusiasm of these graduates and new students, the hospitality of their families and the community, and the camaderie that developed here at the UN compound. The first evening, Floyd and I had dinner with each other. By our final night, we basically had a party table of people from around the world, all focused on changing the camp through education. Folks from Chile, Egypt, Ethiopia, Ecuador — so many differences between us, so much in common among us (including a love of beer...) The fellow holding the camera is from Cincinnati — Floyd’s hometown! On to Dzaleka for another graduation. I hear that group has a parade. Stay tuned!

Floyd takes center stage

Final meetings with the graduates and the newest students. They have an afternoon conference, and requested the topic of “protecting the environment.” Right up Floyd’s alley, he jumped into an explanation of the key pillars of sustainability, and challenged the students to come up with ways they could reduce/reuse/recycle. He holds up a plastic bottle. “What are all the ways you could reuse this bottle?” One student starts with “you can make a child’s toy out of it...” and then the room erupts into one creative idea after another. After 45 minutes, we release them, but they refuse to go, huddling around Floyd, asking question after question. I tell him afterward that he’s made a real difference, and these students will remember him. Cool beans. Stay tuned.

“It’s not just about births; it’s about having healthy futures for our children”

Today — visits to maternity units to assess need for a mother-baby health certificate. Roseanne — pictured with me here — is the head midwife in a busy maternity unit. As a result of her clinic’s public health efforts, nearly 98% of women deliver in a facility and mortality rates have dropped dramatically. So far this year, 4 neonatal deaths and one maternal death — a quarter of what it was a year ago. The facilities are spare but clean. In discussion about an appropriate curriculum, the differences quickly become apparent. Roseanne tells me one of their biggest challenges is dealing with the amount of scar tissue that Somalian women present with due to genital mutilation; sometimes, she says, it is so thick the baby can’t be delivered without surgery. She speaks of the challenges of blending cultural traditions with modern healthcare. Some of the women refuse to wash the baby after birth, instead insisting on covering them in oil. Others believe they cannot breastfeed until they are blessed by a shaman, who may not visit for several days after birth. The first product of breast-feeding, when the most immunity is passed to the baby, is often drank by the husband. (I’m trying to be culturally sensitive here, but ick...). She is excited by the prospect of having trained public health workers who can support the work she is doing in the maternity ward. “They need to be custodians of their health,” she says, “but they need someone to walk with them. This isn’t just about births; it’s about having healthy futures for all our children.” She then asks me if I want to look at her “indicators,” the statistics about complications, birth outcomes, and volumes. Hence — the data come first in this post. I’m impressed, and I admire her passion and the outcomes she’s achieved. I tell her so, and she blushes. Stay tuned.

It’s all about the context...

Visited with the Senior Officer, Mohamed Shoman, here in the UN Humanitarian Compound. His primary focus is education — he believes it is the only way the camp itself will eventually become irrelevant. He is not open to just any education programs though, and I was glad to hear it. He believes that programs must provide open access, quality, and — the most difficult — proof of sustainability. There is often a trade-off between access and quality, he notes, and he is uninterested in one-offs or training that is not linked to improvements in the lives of the residents of the camps. I’m impressed, both with his passion and his thinking. As we talk, I note that there are steel plates that can be slid over the windows and double steel doors with bolt locks. This place can be turned into a bunker in a matter of minutes. Coming back to the compound, we move through three security checks, the last with a fellow walking around the vehicle inspecting the undercarriage with a mirror. I don’t know whether to be concerned or reassured — I settle on the latter. Stay tuned.

The most enthusiastic graduation I’ve ever seen!

Graduation day today! 300 people attended to watch 29 refugees from Congo, Somalia, Sudan, and Uganda cross the stage and become college graduates. Ten speeches (!!!), three dance troupes, two songs (including one rap), and three and a half hours later, we have our newest alums. Check out one of the dances by copying this URL into your browser: https://youtu.be/nE5R827O2V8. We’re not in Kansas anymore — or Colorado for that matter — as this was the most upbeat, excited, enthusiastic group of non-drunk students I’ve ever seen at commencement. Families danced, lunch was served, and I felt like a movie star — so many photos, with each student, their family, and, in some cases, complete strangers. An added bonus: it rained overnight, so it was overcast and almost cool this morning. In a diva moment I asked for a fan and it made the event not just tolerable but enjoyable. Tomorrow, visits to mother-baby clinics to start a needs assessment for a new specialization. Stay tuned.

Pretty much says it all...

In the refugee camp for two days now. I’ve never been fond of taking pictures to show how bad it is, but the second sign here pretty much sums it up....

“We are alive, but we have no life...”

Up before dawn to catch the UN flight to the camp. A couple of hours later, we were pleasantly surprised by a sunny but mild day with a lovely breeze. (I heard it’s 100 degrees in Denver so perhaps I’m the lucky one!)Staying in the UN Humanitarian Compound, we had a safety briefing about scorpions and cobras. Basically — don’t stick your fingers in any holes in the ground. Our first visit: the home of a recent graduate. Her whole family came out to talk with us. They brought out bottles of soda pop and served it to us in beautiful cobalt blue glasses — a rare possession that survived their flight from Sudan. I want to resist taking a sweet commodity from people who clearly have nothing, but they are proud people and follow their traditions. Their culture requires that they serve their best drink with us, even if it means they go without. I drink half a glass of grape NeHi. The father has been in the camp since 1992, one of the Lost Boys of Sudan. He encouraged all eight of his daughters to go to school, which is rare here. He knows it is the only way out for them. “We are alive here,” he says, “but we have no life.” Our graduate tells us she walked two hours each way on the dusty roads to get to the school. “It doesn’t matter where you learn; it’s about how badly you want to learn,” she told us. On to a computer class, where students are learning the fundamental skills to start their diplomas. They ask me to speak. “What you learn can’t be taken from you; you may lose everything but you will never lose your education. Persist!” I try to encourage them. With at least one student, it took. He stopped me afterward. “I have lost my family, my home, and all my possessions, but you are right, they won’t ever take this from me.” Yes, my friends, it is worth the trip. Stay tuned.

Can you put the lion on Floyd’s side?

Spent a day in the Savannah, with a private safari guide in an open Jeep. We saw more animals than we could count; the annual Wildebeest migration is underway. Was unaware zebras joined them. The herd was as far as you could see. A few pics here. You can see how close we got to the lions, and somehow they were always on my side. Headed to Kakuma tomorrow. Stay tuned.

A Massai warrior took us for a hike...

Arriving in Kenya a couple of days early, Floyd and I are on a safari in the Massai Mara, a national park and conservancy that’s in the middle of the savannah. Makes me feel at home — looks like the Great Plains. We were greeted by singing women who invited me to join the dance. Our tent is the size of my living room and has a shower and bathroom. I asked what keeps the lions away — the nearby canyon isn’t called Leopard Gorge for nothing. We were told the camp is guarded by Massai warriors, so I’ll sleep just fine. Our fearless guide took us on a rare walking safari. We were able to get relatively close to zebra, elon, wildebeest, giraffe, gazelles, and impala. We didn’t get close at all to the two hyenas we spotted. Back at camp, a lovely dinner fireside and early to bed. Up early for a day-long drive to find the migrating wildebeest. Stay tuned.

Into Africa

It has been sometime since I have been on one of these mission-aligned trips. This one will be the capstone of them all! Into Africa, to refugee camps, to confer diplomas on our students in these remote outposts. I am excited and anxious -- and that's just about trying to get all this stuff into two backpacks! So happy that my hubby will go with me. The adventure begins on Sunday. Stay tuned! ps I have used this blog since 2010 to follow my service trips to Ethiopia, Joplin, Viet Nam, and Nicaragua. They are in time order, most recent first. Should you want to read any of the earlier posts, scroll down and hit "older posts."

Ahhhh! So we are in a bar!

The morning starts with home visits with the local environmental scientist -- the Ethiopian version of a public health worker. His mission: to get each home to dig a latrine so that their drinking water is not contaminated with waste. We drive off the main road, then get out and walk, the mud sucking at our shoes. The first home is considered a model of environmental responsibility. They've not only dug a latrine, they've dug trenches to capture methane from their livestock's dung to use as cooking fuel. Wow, just writing that makes me realize how different life is here. They are gracious and in the midst of a coffee ceremony; they ask us questions about our homes, where we get water, where we keep our livestock. We walk on, to another home, where the owner looks at us sheepishly. She is in the midst of stocking her still, making corn whiskey. We ask her where she sells it. "In my living room, here," she responds. Ahhh, so we are in a bar! No wonder she can afford to have a three room house. The students continue their work, doing physicals, treating kids and faculty, working at the hospital. In the evening, we ask about their reaction to the experience. They have the same questions I ask myself. "Am I doing any good here? Can the little bit we do actually help in any way?" I remind them that we don't call these helping trips, or charity - we call them service learning. We're here to serve and to learn in equal parts. I'm reminded of Matt's chemistry lecture. When substances meet up, sometimes hydronium ions go one way, sometimes the other way, sometimes both ways. The arrows here go to and from our students to those they serve, and it won't always balance out. We end the evening with another chemistry experiment -- Gina has attempted to make cookies for Jen's birthday using oatmeal, peanut butter, and peanut M&M's. We considered the experiment a success. Back to pack tonight, to that long, long trip back over the pond. This adventure is coming to a close. Until the next one...stay tuned.

The between classes school mob

The Physio (PT) students visit a prosthetics engineer, and teach PT's about emergency care

"This stuff will burn your eye out!"

Students and faculty disperse this morning, with much to be done. We all get a tour of the hospital. It's not bad; I've definitely seen worse in my travels (at least they only put one patient in a bed here.) Gosh is it clean; the smell of bleach is ubiquitous. Not very may inpatients, but quite the lineup for the outpatient visits with the physician, joined by our NP and PT students. And the diagnoses! We hear the most prevalent diagnosis is goiter. This landlocked country has neither salt water nor iodized salt, so an alarming number of people look like they swallowed a tennis ball. Amoebic dysentery, gout, you name it -- if we've not seen it before, they have it. Pretty much everyone has tuberculosis. I've been a handwashing fool. Matt teaches a chemistry class to 20 seniors. The teacher looks momentarily startled when he realizes Matt has made some hydrochloric acid for a demonstration for the students. "This stuff will burn your eyes out!" he admonishes the rambunctious students. The students compete to answer questions, with gusto if not accuracy. Mid-afternoon, Jeremy and I visit the community schools that Regis helped Project Mercy build for students who can't get into the private school. We start to leave just as students move between classes, and they mob us -- a couple hundred of them all try to shake my hand. I know how a politician must feel. Tomorrow, we go on home visits into the straw huts called tukels. I sense that will be another completely novel experience. Stay tuned.

It's very quiet. And very dark.

The drive to Project Mercy is indeed beautiful. City turns to countryside that turns into mountains. Not purple mountains majesty, but rather the gentle, green covered kind that remind me of the Ozarks. Well, except for the acacia and eucalyptus trees, wild donkeys, and lack of human presence. The luggage is piled onto the top of the ancient yellow bus, and we stop halfway to cover with a tarp as the rain moves in. The road turns from asphalt to mud and volcanic rock, and soon we are at the compound that is Project Mercy. A school, hospital, cafeteria, gardens, and housing -- it looks like a big summer camp. After a short tour, we head to our housing. Concrete floors, sparse rooms, toilets that we're only to flush when we really need to, and water for two hours a day. Apparently, the electricity is on the same schedule. Just as I finish drying my hair, the power goes off, and stays that way until morning. I don't believe there is much as quiet and dark as rural Africa when the juice is off. Just as well; I sleep the restless sleep of someone on anti-malarials. We work tomorrow; stay tuned.

"Take that, Aetna!"

Dr. Rick Hodes joined us tonight for dinner. A smallish guy that looks like Woody Allen, he came to Ethiopia twenty years ago for a year's foreign service and never left. A resourceful man, he found creative ways to finance the surgical treatment of kids with heart deformities, tuberculosis of the spine, and goiters the size of cantaloupes. He sends patients to other parts of Africa, India, and anywhere else that he finds surgeons skilled in treating the kinds of diagnoses that are rarities for us. The students get a chance to see conditions that they will hopefully never see again, and to see a truly gifted physician in action. He finds bargains for the most needy -- heart valve replacement for $2400 in India, spinal surgery for $1200 in South Africa. He adopted two twins with massive spine deformities in order to get them on his health insurance. "Take that, Aetna," he said, with a jab in the air. He ended up with five kids as a result. All are healed and successfully being educated in the U.S. One wants to become a pharmacist. I tugged on his sleeve on that one. "We have one great pharmacy school, " I told him. He promises to check us out. Tomorrow we are up and out to Project Mercy, which will take most of the day. I hear it's a beautiful drive; stay tuned.

"Have you looked around here?"

In country, and grateful that the periodic gentle rains have kept it cool and comfortable. We landed briefly in Khartoum. Looking out the window as our altitude lowered, I swear the countryside looked like Kansas without the glitz. And then there was the Nile, of course, winding across the fields of green and gold. Into Ethiopia; landing at night is the great urban equalizer. They all look like the emerald city when you land amidst the light. Morning takes us to the Mother Child Rehabilitation Center, where our students have been serving for the past week. Juta, the founder and chief, is a fierce German woman who clearly has a fire in the belly for these lost women and children. They serve homeless women with children, victims of violence, rape and abuse, and the children no one wants or cares for. Many of the babies are rescued from mothers ready to kill or sell them, particularly when they are the result of rape. Juta takes them all in, educates them, provides them with shelter, protects them from abusers, and gives them the therapy they need. We watch three interpretive dances from the dance therapy class -- these were some talented young people, their dances were moving and hopeful. It was followed by circus therapy -- yes, you have that right. Tumbling, jumping, scaring us all that they would fall off the mattresses that served as their mats. We toured the compound, where women are taught to sew, children are schooled, illnesses are treated, and souls are soothed. Our students' work was evident everywhere -- charts on the wall helping the kids understand how to stay well, and showing their parents what normal development should be. Once again, I am struck by the resilience of children and the generosity of strangers. Yuta had us to her home for lunch, an elaborate and gracious affair complete with china, four courses of wonderful food, and great conversation. I asked her what inspired her to do this work. "Have you looked around here?" she responded simply. Will meet with Dr. Rick Hodes tonight, and since the only internet I have is here in the hotel, may post before we leave for Project Mercy tomorrow. Stay tuned.

Stay tuned! New adventure underway

I'm ready to hit the road again. Headed to Ethiopia to spend time with our students and faculty at the Mother/Baby clinic in Addis Ababa and Project Mercy in Yetebon. As usual, Gus is forlorn. I swear he knows what luggage is for. He'd love to go with me, as you can see. Embarking on a very long flight, hoping I avoid the pediatric ward, which has been the running theme throughout my travels. I've heard so many things from students, staff, and faculty about this lovely country. I hear it gets its hooks in you and makes you want to return again and again, that it is a beautiful place with gracious people, and that there is much work to do. I'm ready -- to remind myself how lucky I am, to realize how petty my problems are, to remember why we are here and do what we do. Just a note of warning -- I understand I may likely have wifi only a couple of times during the trip. If you join the blog -- on the main page -- it will send you a note when I get a post up. Plus, it makes me look popular, and that's what's really important here. Stay tuned.

photos from the ground

In the bucket of Big Brutus shovel; Jim at the helm; Our tornado victor speakers.