Life Lifted

Lucy O and Burton, our chick

If the beginning is any indication, than this is poised to be my best year yet. I awoke on Saturday to several soft knocks on my door followed by six of the kids & Brian pouring in with a chorus of “Happy Birthdays.” With big smiles gracing their faces and dancing eyes, they handed me a picturesque breakfast and proudly told me they had made me breakfast in bed. Somewhere between seeing the little purple and yellow flowers dispersed amongst my eggs and toast and the steady stream of hugs I received during those first ten minutes, it dawned on me that it was going to be an incredibly special birthday.

As I sat in bed eating my delicious breakfast, a few of the kids climbed in bed with me, reacting with glee & giggles when they discovered my teddy bear snuggled up in the covers, while others examined the framed photographs on my book shelf (one of my brother and I at age two & four, with our faces illuminated by devilish grins, one of me draped over my dad’s shoulder at age three or four, and one of roommates and I on graduation day.) There is no better way to start the day than in the company of laughing children.

Later in the morning, after chores had been completed and coffee consumed, our motley crew took off on an adventure to the river and the forest beyond. Along the way, each of the kids melted my heart by picking all sorts of beautiful flowers and then handing them to me with smile and a “For you!”

When we reached the river, a few of the boys stripped down to their bathing suits and jumped into the absolutely frigid water without hesitation. The rest of us dipped our feet in and then quickly braved a passage through the chilling water to get to the other side. From there we hiked on through various fields and forests until we came to an astonishing patch of the tallest trees I have ever laid eyes on. After some serious marveling at these gargantuan trees, we began to make our way towards home.  Before exiting the woods, we had an interesting run-in with a man from the Forest Patrol who insisted we had to pay money to be where we were.  It wouldn’t have been a complete birthday without a little dance with the law and authority.

My birthday was rounded out later in the day with singing, cake & candles, a confetti rocket, and a pile of handmade cards several inches thick.  I thought it would feel weird to celebrate my birthday without my family and the usual contingent of friends, but everyone from the volunteers, to the kids, and the matrons made the day feel special and the love I received from overseas only served to boost the experience.

Lucy and Hannah

Over the last two weeks, I’ve been deeply touched and pleasantly surprised by what I can only describe as a slight shift in the children’s behavior towards me.  Even the shiest and most independent kids have started to seek me out more and more, clearly becoming more affectionate with each passing day.  They are sharing more about themselves, and showing more curiosity about me as well. This surprises me only because I didn’t think my love for the kids could grow any deeper or stronger, but I am cherishing the fact that I was wrong.

Scattered amongst the madness of any given day or week here are countless precious moments, almost always featuring one or more of the children, and given this deepening of emotion and connection I just described, I would like to share a recent few with you. Last Sunday, I took one of our little boys into Nairobi for a doctor’s appointment. Because the appointment was late in the day, we stayed in Nairobi for the night and he accompanied Brian, Leila and myself on several important, evening meetings. Not only was he a good sport during all this, his sense of humor and earnestness had me laughing until tears on multiple occasions. Sitting at dinner, waiting for the people we were meeting with, he continually looked over his shoulder and let out an enthusiastic “Here they are!” only to burst into giggles when we took him seriously each time. Throughout the two days we spent in Nairobi, he was so wildly adorable that it nearly broke my heart; he asked countless intelligent questions, held my hand at all times, consumed a mug of Hot Chocolate in under two minutes and charmed every person who crossed our path.

Back at the center, we held a Talent Show on Tuesday night, and the winning act was endearing beyond words; Lucy O, Serah, and Mary, who all currently have the same hairstyle and were all dressed in the same blue jumper (which I believe was an honest coincidence) and orange sweaters, danced their hearts out with uncharacteristic boldness. My description doesn’t come close to capturing how precious this was. Whenever we have a Talent Show, I am blown away by how courageous the kids are- they will stand in front of 25 people and dance (with or without music), they will don blonde wigs, skirts and heels (and this is the boys I am talking about) and sing, dance or act, and what this all means to me is that these children feel completely safe, accepted and loved in this home Flying Kites has created.

And on a level of significance all its own, in the last few days Flying Kites took in two more children- Francis, 16 and Eunice, 10.  Meeting and beginning to get to know this extraordinary duo has lead to a continuous flow of precious moments.  Francis and Eunice are brother and sister, coming to us from an orphanage in Nairobi that was not meeting their needs. Francis aspires to be a doctor, but he was not getting the education he needed to achieve that dream. Flying Kites will give him everything he needs to get there. Judging by his acute intelligence and serious determination, Francis will be the first (but certainly not the last) Flying Kites graduate to become a doctor.  Now I’m not sure about you, but that sends chills up my spine and brings tears to my eyes.

I have more stories I would love to share, but for now I am going to stop myself for fear of losing your attention as I still have something very important to address.

About a month ago, I set a goal for Flying Kites, and for myself, of getting every one of our 21 children fully sponsored by the New Year. Up to this point, I have shared this goal with all past and present Flying Kites Volunteers, and many of them have truly stepped up to this challenge. To my great joy, several volunteers themselves have decided to sponsor a child, a few have shared this goal with their own friends and family, and new sponsors are rolling in. Special thanks and a hearty NAKUPENDA to Kendra Schwindt, Julia Mullins, Tricia Piorkowski, Rachel Nelson, Grace Stern, Devon and Brendan Legare, and Sara Sturgis and the Sturgis family for taking action, championing this mission and bringing in results.

Now, it is time for me to invite my own friends and family to help us achieve this goal. A full, year-long sponsorship for one child at the Flying Kites Leadership Academy costs $2,000, and this includes everything from education, to medical expenses, to the salaries of our Kenyan staff who take care of the children day in and day out. We also offer a partial sponsorship of $1,000 per year. As a sponsor of a child at Flying Kites, you will receive frequent communication & updates from the child and you will forever change the course of a child’s life- and these are children who will transform our shared world, They also happen to mean more to me than words can express.

Ruth

Please consider sponsoring a child at Flying Kites this holiday season. If I may make a suggestion, as someone who just had one of the best birthday’s of her life while receiving just two presents (not to downplay the presents I did receive-they were absolutely perfect), skip the usual presents and give a gift that will lift lives!

Serah

An incredibly brilliant man who also happens to be an extraordinary philanthropist visited our center this week and his parting words to Brian and I went something like this: I think the phrase ‘changing lives’ is used too frequently and casually, but you guys and Flying Kites, are truly changing lives, everyday. Including mine.

I could not agree more. Join me?

All my love,

Julianna

P.S. Send me an email to jmorrall@flyingkitesglobal.org if you are interesting in sponsoring a child. The world would be a better place for it.

Not sure what the kids look so concerned about, I'm clearly not worried.

The natural result of a rainy afternoon

Adventures in Uganda

Two weekends ago I had the great pleasure of journeying to Kampala, the capital city of Uganda, to spend four days exploring the dynamic city with one of my favorite people in the whole world, Ryan Littman Quinn. Ryan and I grew up in the small town of Southborough, MA together, we shared the same awkward group of friends back when Ryan rocked frosted tips and I… I was just awkward (middle school), and we became very close again during our years at Boston College when his guy friends and my girlfriends became one big, happy, outrageous family.  Ryan now lives in Botswana, designing & implementing mobile health technology systems (don’t worry, it has literally taken me a year to fully understand what that means.) The 2^nd International Conference on Mobile Communication Technology for Development  (http://m4d.humanit.org/) brought my old friend to East Africa, so we took advantage of our rare proximity to embark on a few days of shared adventures around Uganda.

My adventure began with a surprisingly comfortable ten-hour bus ride from Nairobi to Kampala, three quarters of which I spent with my eyes glued to the window, taking in the ever-shifting, yet constantly stunning landscape. As dusk fell, the bus entered the outskirts of Kampala, where in every direction there were streets lined with small, makeshift shops selling everything from phone credit to live chickens, and the sidewalks were teaming with people on the move, many dressed in brightly colored traditional dresses & blouses, equal numbers dressed in what American’s call “business casual” attire. It was only fitting that once I disembarked from the bus and caught a taxi to take me to the ICU Guesthouse, the lovely, family run hostel where we would stay for the next four nights, I got stuck in the nightly traffic jam that is par for the course in Kampala (and Nairobi)- known to all simply as “the jam.” Far from a waste of time, this hour-long taxi ride allowed me to take in the madness that is driving in Kampala. The roads of Kampala are horribly ridden with potholes and absolutely packed with matatus (14 person Nissan vans) and boda-bodas (motorbikes.). All you New England drivers, next time you find yourself complaining about the pothole down the road that comes back every winter, imagine dodging ditches the size of Volkswagon Beetles on Storrow Drive while surrounded by dozens of motorcycles; now that is infrastructure to complain about. Depending on your perspective, driving in Kampala is either an art form or a fool’s errand.

Upon arriving at the ICU Guesthouse, a tucked away, peaceful haven, I was greeted by name by every staff member I met- yes, they knew my name before I opened my mouth- and I was given a tour of the big, old house. After a few minutes of exploring and unwinding, I heard a familiar voice in the hall and was greeted with a wonderfully familiar face. Ryan and I spent that first night catching up over beers and roll-eggs (an amazingly delicious & inexpensive meal of omelet rolled up in chapatti,) laughing about how vastly different our day to day lives are and how much our lives have changed in just one year.

My preferred way to get to know a city is simply by wandering around it, I’m not one to take out a guide book and plan out an entire trip beforehand; I’d much rather take in the sites as they cross my path. Luckily for me, Ryan had the same attitude, so we spent Friday wandering around Kampala, beginning at the vast, chaotic, and lively Owino Market. Owino is not one of the ubiquitous craft markets for tourists; it is a market for residents, full of practical items from shoes, to cutlery, to beans, radios, spices and produce. When we entered Owino, we had no idea that we had just entered a labyrinth busting at the seams with people, food, and household wares, but this quickly became evident as we wandered through endless aisles of stalls selling the same wares as far as the eye could see.

Unlike the bright, shiny mega-grocery stores that dominate the market scene back in the states, each market I’ve encountered here has a very distinctive character. In the case of Owino, the physical characteristics and sheer enormity placed it in a category of its own- half inside, half out, we started amidst shoes in a dark, cave like setting, and ended amongst spice racks and huge stacks of tomatoes in a bright, colorful open expanse filled with boundless dynamism. Upon encountering this dramatic visual extravaganza, I took out my camera to document it.  As I snapped a shot of a vivid array of beans and grains, a crotchety old woman took it upon herself to throw a handful of beans at my head. Ouch.  She certainly got her point across, but my initial reaction was indignation; the woman was far outside the boundaries of the picture I had just taken, and as a person who is extremely sensitive as to when and where it is appropriate to take pictures, I was truly surprised to have provoked such a reaction with a picture in which not a single person appeared.  Nevertheless, lesson learned. This was the only ounce of inhospitable behavior that I encountered during my trip; in fact, I found it remarkable that each and every person I met was so entirely lovely.

The following day, we took a trip to the town of Jinja, where the Nile River begins, grandly flowing from Lake Victoria all the way to Egypt (a journey I learned takes 3 months for water to complete.) We spent the day on the banks of the Nile, first taking a ride in a wooden motorboat to the very spot where the water begins to ripple and the current of the Nile is born. It was wild to look at three little ripples in the water and have our guide say, “See, there begins the Nile.” Just goes to show that even something as legendary and majestic as the Nile River starts small. Later we visited Bujagli Falls, a spot infamous for white water rafting, and found ourselves a spot to soak in the sun and dip our feet in the water. The water was refreshing, the sun powerful, and the noise from the rapids framed these beautifully meditative moments brilliantly.

Back in Kampala, Ryan and I continued to bounce around the city on the backs of countless boda-bodas. They may not be the safest way to travel around Kampala, but given the serious traffic jams that emerge frequently, boda-bodas were definitely the most efficient and the most interesting mode of transportation. Cruising around in the open air allowed us to directly experience the smells, noises, and sights of Kampala, and though there were a few moments of fear during which I held on to the motorcycle for dear life, I wouldn’t trade those rides for anything.  The dust that continually flew into my eyes was a small price to pay for the exhilaration of feeling a part of the vibrant chaos that characterized Kampala, rather than just a witness to it.

My weekend in Kampala was the first trip I’ve taken in East Africa for which I did not have an agenda (other than spending time with an old friend) and I look forward to many more like it (bank account willing.) Since returning home to Njabini, life has “settled” back into the dazzling routine and rhythm I’ve fallen so in love with. Our water was cut off for about five days (for the record, by day four things start to get ugly,) which forced us to pare down for a bit, make do and then rejoice in the blessing of a running faucet and flushing toilet upon the water’s return. The 2010 school year ended today, and I felt like a proud momma when our children’s names were called at the school-wide assembly and they filled the top ranks in all four of our classes.

This afternoon, the children were giddy with that one-of-a-kind, carefree, frenetic energy that only appears when the school year finishes and summer break stretches into the future. As the late afternoon sun cast a golden hue on everything in sight, I found myself doing exercises in the backyard. Within moments of my attempt to do push ups, little Rahab climbed on my back and Serah rolled underneath me, and we all collapsed in fits of giggles at my inability to continue. As their untroubled exuberance washed over me, I realized that while this Thanksgiving will be very, very different than those I’ve previously experienced, I have an awful lot to be grateful for. I will be missing my family, friends, and pumpkin pie an enormous amount tomorrow, but I’ve never felt more in tune with the many blessings that are apart of my life.

All my love,

Julianna

Represent!

What makes you come alive?

 

Big Mike

‎”Don’t ask yourself what the world needs. Ask yourself what makes you come alive and then go do that. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive.” Howard Thurman

As I speculated in my first post to this blog, I feel more alive – or awake- now than I ever have before.

I come alive to the sounds of roosters crowing and children laughing somewhere between 6:30 and 7am most mornings. I come further alive once I’ve lit our gas stove, boiled a kettle of water, poured it into the French press ready with fresh coffee grains, and after a few minutes of letting it steep, poured myself a piping hot cup of coffee.  Then over the course of the next hour, I am buoyed further by the smiley albeit sleepy ‘Good Mornings’ that trickle in as my colleagues and volunteers walk through the doors of our kitchen/living room.

Dispersed amongst this morning exchange are my sometimes silent, often not so silent, pleadings with the Internet gods to allow me to send off a few quick messages before the network is bombarded and all hope of speedy communication is lost. And at sometime point amid all this, my ears perk up to the sound of our Land Rover bravely cresting the hill, a smile crosses my face at the site of the forever mud-splattered vehicle arriving through our gate and the subsequent laughter and squeals of our Day Scholars as they come pouring out of the car and dart off in all directions across the vibrantly green yard broadens my smile.

Next comes a knock on the door followed by the grinning face of either Miriam or Ruth (most days its both.) Miriam enters the room singing, and rushes over to one of us with a ever cheerful ‘Gooood morning!’ Oftentimes this sweet little one’s seemingly polite & wonderful visit is directly preceded by some mischievous act she just completed, but even with that knowledge, I adore this morning visit.  If its Ruth at the door, she wanders over to myself or another volunteer, shows off a drawing she recently made, all the while giggling and making silly faces.  After a few more goofy moments with the girls, we gently remind them that they should be outside with the rest of the kids, and they scamper off to run the wiggles out before morning assembly and school begins.

The adults (am I qualified to call myself that?) enjoy another cup of coffee and a few moments of quiet, though quiet is a relative term when a school attended by 70 children sits forty feet from your house, before everyone jumps headlong into their busy days. The volunteers spend their mornings tutoring children in English and Math, assisting in the classrooms in between their tutoring sessions. Walking through the house during the morning hours, the beautiful sight of our five current volunteers sitting one-on-one with a student always warms my heart. They all go about the difficult duty of teaching the very basics of reading and writing with such genuine interest and care for their tutees academic standing, I couldn’t ask for anything more.

On weekday mornings, I either bounce around the house doing various tasks, or head into town to the place we jokingly call ‘the Bat Cave’ but is officially known as TeaZone, to take advantage of their electricity, attend to the emails awaiting me and indulge in at least one cup of tea (alright, usually two), made with bountiful amounts of milk and sugar as is the Kenyan way. On the walk into town, I come a bit more alive with every melodious exchange of  “Habari” and “Mzuri sana!” that flows between the neighbors I pass and myself.  Kenyans are amazingly friendly, and are constantly breaking into huge, stunning smiles and earth shaking belly laughs.  People who have a rich appreciation of life’s gifts surround me; people who have not had it easy yet carry joy close to the surface. In this context, it is hard not to feel wildly and abundantly alive.

Once in town, I make my way to TeaZone, though we have also lovingly begun calling it ‘the world headquarters of Flying Kites’ – move over Brooklyn! I push open the outside door and find myself walking past various animal parts hanging behind a glass panel- the butchery. Then I head through a doorway with strips of rubber hanging down like a curtain, I push aside this curtain, and I’ve arrived.

The back room of TeaZone is painted a light green color, is outfitted with three tables stacked end to end which are surrounded by at least eight couches/benches and all this is topped off with a single outlet that the extremely gracious and hospitable owners of TeaZone installed literally at the suggestion of my colleague.  With that brilliant move, the owners of TeaZone now see our faces and our business daily. Oftentimes, Brian and Francis are already in position when I arrive, discussing finances or the agenda for the day, and their smiling faces are always a welcome sight. By mid-day, the bat cave fills up with FK staff and volunteers, and the familial banter between us all is peppered with laughter, wild hand gestures (ahem, Francis and Brian), and the occasional squeal of delight prompted by an email carrying good news or groans of frustration as an internet connection kicks out just as someone finishes an email. I wouldn’t trade our quirky little office set up for anything.

Mornings at TeaZone quickly slide into afternoons there, which are usually marked by a brief rain shower, made all the more noticeable by the loud but soothing noise the rain makes on the buildings tin roof. Late afternoon usually finds me wrapping up work and meetings at TeaZone, making a quick stop at the market for avocadoes, tomatoes, and pineapple (absurdly delicious here) and then heading back up the hill to the center. If it has been raining frequently, this walk back can be a bit trying- navigating up the muddy road is an art form- one I am still mastering. Back at home, the kids are typically running around outside, doing their afterschool chores (washing their socks), and they are quick to greet me with hugs and hollers.

Teacher Kariuki & Class 3

Over the next few hours I catch up with the volunteers and children; if I’m lucky I get to be silly and shake my hips with the girls (they are far more skilled in that area than I) or check in on the baby rabbits and kick a soccer ball around with the boys. After dinner, we meet in the sitting room with all the children and matrons for a run down on how the day went. The matrons point out areas where the children’s behavior needs to improve (often its making their beds, putting their shoes away) and then applaud them for their good behavior. After that daily assessment, the children are given a chance to raise their hand and call attention to an act of goodness they witnessed by one of their siblings. Watching Rahab stand up and praise the Matrons for their hard work or witnessing Ann call attention to something thoughtful that Joseph did, is easily the most enlivening moment of my day.

After our nightly meeting, the house is transformed into homework, reading, & writing central, and volunteers disperse amongst the kids, helping those who need it with homework or taking turns reading and listening with those who have already finished homework. I love seeing this all unfold, and when bedtime rolls around, my day is perfectly capped by reading a book or two a child as they snuggle up in bed.

I fell in love with the ebb and flow of life here at the Flying Kites Leadership Academy back in June when I visited for a little over a month, but I didn’t know then how entirely stimulating I would find daily life here to be. I thrive in such a social setting, where there is always someone who has a question or wants to run an idea by you, or a dispute between two children that requires diffusing, or a little one who wants you to read them a book. And when I need to step back, there are always emails to answer, documents that need to be updated, or new contacts to reach out to.

I come alive to the smell of African rain, to the sight of the rolling green hills of Njabini set against a blue sky, to a discussion with a fired up volunteer who has a great fundraising idea or a new approach to structuring homework time, and during a meeting with a young jazz/funk musician who ecstatically agrees to perform at our next fundraiser and cannot stop gushing about how excited he is about our work.

I am feeling pretty lucky these days to have clearly hit upon a job, place, and little community that makes me feel so alive. So, from the bottom of my heart- go out there and find what makes you come alive!

Nakupenda,

Julianna

 

The one & only "Mamma Toby"- miss you already!

Momentum

It is weeks like this past one that I know I will cherish forever. Weeks that reaffirm why I have chosen this place as my home, this path of work as my driving force, and this organization as the focus of my passion. Our stellar group of volunteers ramped up their efforts this week- nothing short of music to my ears- taking their own individual projects to the next level and reminding us all of the magnificent contributions that volunteers make to our operations here. We welcomed Peter, a charismatic, confident seven year old into our family, growing our number to 19 marvelous children who are bound to change the world for the better. And to top it off, Flying Kites received a $100,000 donation from an anonymous donor; a humbling and beautiful act that left me glowing, ecstatic and reeling with excitement for all that is to come.

I started the week by meeting with each volunteer to discuss their goals for the duration of their stay. Each person comes here carrying a different skill set than their peers, and it is my job to ensure that each volunteer taps into their unique gifts and shares them with our children. After these meetings, I witnessed not only a surge in energy amongst the volunteers but also a refocusing on what was most important to each. Gina and Amanda organized an afternoon focused on creativity and art using the amusing medium of finger paint and potatoes (as stamps.) Jarrod began turning a sizeable field into an herb and vegetable garden with the kids’ help (resulting in scary and painful looking blisters- pole Jarrod!) and Stephanie plunged head first into helping Jane, our Magnet Effect Program Manager, master her beautiful new laptop. Amanda, a former teacher, began working with our teachers to address incorporating more creative learning into the school curriculum, an exciting step forward to say the least. Watching all the volunteers buzzing around, working with smiles on their faces and laughter not far behind, brought me enormous joy and satisfaction.

While we are on the topic of enormous joy, Peter walked into our lives this week with a surprising spring in his step, the sparkle of curiosity in his eyes, ready & eager to run around with boyish abandon. The gift of welcoming a new child into our family is unlike any other, and I am looking forward to watching Peter form close friendships with his new siblings and come into his own over the coming months.

Though feeling on top of the world can be a rare and fleeting sensation, that is certainly how we all felt (and still feel!) after learning of the $100,000 donation on Tuesday night. The knowledge that one person, in an act of unassuming generosity, just gave us the ability to run full speed ahead (and full speed ahead right now means things are really, really going to move fast) is enough motivation to last for months.

In the next few weeks, we will put the finishing touches on our new school building (some minor finish work and a drainage system on the roof are all that remain) and with that our construction teams’ full focus will turn towards completing the Carly “Pie” Liptak Memorial Clinic. Situated right next to the school, the clinic, which will serve the children in our care, our Day Scholars, and the surrounding community, is set to be a stunning tribute to the beautiful life of Carly Liptak. Carly’s cousins, Josh and Jared Furtado, both of whom have visited our center, participated in the Adventure Challenges trek up Mt. Kilimanjaro in June 2010 and are friends of mine, have chosen to honor Carly’s life and untimely death with the clinic which will shortly transform the health care scene here in our rural town. I have nothing but the utmost respect & admiration for the Furtado family for turning their grief into such an incredibly beneficial gift for the Flying Kites children and the wider community here.

Isaac preaching the good word

Boosted by the recent large donation, we will be able to equip our teachers with their next level of teaching certifications, something that has been a top priority of ours for quite some time. When we told our four teachers this on Friday, the looks on their faces moved me to bite my tongue and hold back tears. Few people deserve to further their education more than them; they work incredibly hard with scarce resources, and the majority of the children they teach return home to do chores until bedtime, in households where reading, studying and doing homework can not come first. Though this is solely out of necessity (and not out of their parent’s lack of respect for education,) it heavily impacts the children’s ability to make progress in the classroom and makes our teacher’s jobs all the more challenging.

 

$100,000 only scrapes the surface of what Flying Kites needs to achieve our mighty vision, but it is astounding how much good will emerge from one angel’s generosity. Not every week builds us up the way this one has, but what truly moves me is that this is just the beginning of a tidal wave; ‘a tipping point’, as my colleague Brian, who is deep into Malcolm Gladwell’s book right now, astutely pointed out. I could not agree more: keep watching Flying Kites.  You will be amazed at what will unfold over the coming months.

A fantastic thing about this line of work is that you are brought face to face with the beauty of human compassion; you witness an unbelievable amount of generosity, love, and acts of kindness. I won’t lie; we work very, very hard for each and every one of these lovely moments, but that does not take away the gratitude and deep swelling of emotion you feel every time you witness these gifts.

This week brought several of these moments, moments that represent a glimpse all of the best things about human nature. An anonymous donation of $100,000 obviously qualifies as one such moment, as does witnessing four volunteers pour all their energy into the children & tasks in front of them.  Another such moment came when Amanda put out a call to friends and family, asking them to help her sponsor a field trip to Nairobi to take the kids bowling for the first time; she raised over $250 in a matter of hours. Flash-forward a few days to another such moment. We have just finished a delightful morning bowling with the kids (big smiles all around) and we have settled in to the mall’s food court to eat our homemade lunch of PB & J’s. Quite suddenly, we are descended upon by the mall security, telling us we must leave because we are not paying customers. Brian reasonably explained why we were there & that we had just spent several hundred dollars at their bowling alley. When they rejected that reasoning, he asked if the kids could at least finish their half eaten sandwiches before leaving, but the guards gave our children only a cursory glance before insisting that we leave immediately.

John bowling for the first time

As Brian and I exchanged frustrated glances, a man who had been dining at a nearby table stepped in and expressed his complete outrage and shock that the staff was really about to kick 19 children out of their establishment, essentially mid-bite. He insisted on speaking to their manager, and though he had never spoken a word to any of us, he stood his ground and defended us as though he’d been FK’s biggest fan for years. I found this moment oddly emotional, watching someone defend our children just because they deserved to be defended. It would not have been appropriate for Brian or I to start a yelling match with all the kids looking on, but this gentleman could. In the end, this guardian angel bought each of our children ice cream and with that, the mall staff promptly left us alone.  Once again, I found myself in a situation in which human compassion stood up and declared its presence loudly.

Now, I have gone on and on in this post about the positive events that kept flowing our way last week, but I have not yet given you the full picture. Amidst all this beauty and generosity, I am living alongside hardworking people who live in poverty day in and day out, oftentimes kept there largely because of gallingly simple things like unpaved roads. I cannot focus solely on the good; if I did I would be doing an injustice to many of those around me, who deserve to live in far better conditions. It is on their behalf that I draw your focus back to how far we are from winning this fight.

Earlier this week, I visited an area of Njabini where four thousand people live on just a few acres of land. This slum is set against the most breathtaking landscape around: a dramatic, lush ravine with a swirling river flowing through it. This visit hammered across something that my mind has been toying with all week- that in a stunning twist of fate, beauty and injustice often live hand in hand. Whether it is astounding physical splendor existing right alongside the ugliness & indignity of poverty, or it is the beauty of someone going all in for a cause they believe in contrasted with the tragedy of someone else choosing to line their pockets over doing the right thing, this contradiction is all around here. It has fired me up to fight harder, and I hope it does the same to you.

Here’s to a monumental week & the enormous amount of progress still to forge.

All my love,

Julianna

Happy Halloween!

Did I mention we went bobbing for apples?

James got an apple in seconds flat

Sweet Emotion

The neighborhood

This week, I hit the emotional speed bump that inevitably comes with moving far away from home for an extended period of time.  For the most part, this just meant that I carried my emotions closer to the surface than usual. This week’s many precious moments were peppered with tough ones, but it was far from a bad week.

The week started with a trip to Nairobi to meet with a young Kenyan businesswoman who is interested in volunteering with Flying Kites. This was hugely exciting for me as one of my major projects while I am here is expanding Kenyan participation in our Volunteer Program. To date, the majority of our volunteers have come from the states or the U.K., which was a natural progression from the fact that that is where our founders are from; our Volunteer Program has grown primarily by word- of-mouth. Story telling is still our most valuable form of recruitment, and now that I am here, I am excited to expand our volunteer base to include people closer to our home.  The woman I met with this week was a stellar example of a young professional who will turn out to be an incredible Kenyan role model for our children. The meeting went exceptionally well and she will be visiting us next week to meet our children and staff at the centre.  She also indicated that she would like to help me make headway into networks of people in Nairobi who may be interested in volunteering with us.

Mid-way through the week, I had the great pleasure of being invited to dinner by our great friend and neighbor, Peter Mugo. Brian, myself, and the oldest children were treated to an impressive and delicious feast of traditional Kenyan food, followed up with outrageously tasty pineapple & watermelon, and capped off with soda and tea.  Our hosts did a beautiful job preparing for us; the dinner table was adorned with beautiful lace linens & assorted decorations, and when they brought a large kerosene lamp in to light the room, the flickering light it cast gave the whole room a wonderfully romantic feel. This also served as an excellent reminder of how lucky we are at the center to have a generator that provides us with electricity at night. It was good for us all to venture off our compound for a night & connect with those around us. I can only hope there will be more experiences like this to come.

Thursday saw me heading back into Nairobi on an impromptu trip to take advantage of a rare beast here: free, high speed internet.  All week, I had been working on a newsletter that we send out to all past and present FK volunteers. Each time I go to produce this newsletter, I am shocked by how long it takes- between collecting all the stories & pictures, making the stories enjoyable & readable, editing, re-editing and then formatting the newsletter into an email template- it takes me several days to accomplish in the best of conditions. Creating these newsletters is one of my favorite parts of my job, but when I came to the point of formatting the newsletter into the email template this time, I was disheartened to see that our slow and often spotty internet connection was going to make formatting alone a multi-day endeavor. Luckily for me, in nearly the same moment, my co-worker Frannie called to invite me to spend the night with her at the very nice house where she was house sitting (she had permission from the owners to invite me!) With help from the high speed internet there, I finished the newsletter in a few hours, and even had time to enjoy Law & Order on their big screen TV with a glass of red wine in hand (and if you know the dorkier side of me, you know that is one of my favorite ways to spend an evening.)

Adventuring

To cap off the week, Saturday was Michael’s 9^th birthday. In honor of our newest family member’s birthday, we embarked on an awesome adventure to a nearby river/oasis. I had never explored this area and was completely blown away by how utterly gorgeous and mystical the area was. In spite of a constant drizzle that occasionally broke out into a heavier rain, kids and volunteers alike let their sense of adventure and wonder guide the afternoon which we spent hiking, splashing, fishing, and criss-crossing the river (thanks to Uncle Brian who created a stone bridge and ushered many a wobbly kid & adult through the cold, swirling waters.) Towards the end of the excursion, I found myself alone with two of our kids, climbing up increasingly steep and muddy paths, when we finally came to a point where the trail became impassible. At this point, every step had to be carefully placed due to the extreme mud and we began to tenderly negotiate our way back. Suddenly I heard a crashing sound, and looked up to see a huge cow slipping and sliding down the hill, and for a moment I thought we were going to get taken out by the huge creature. Luckily, it veered to our right, we survived the climb down and I lived to tell the tale.

James

Scattered throughout these escapades, I experienced many beautiful moments with the kids and witnessed as many precious moments amongst them. During our expedition on Saturday, I watched the older kids repeatedly step up and help their younger siblings- Ruth carried little Michael across the river several times, James lead the pack all afternoon, and Hannah carried a shivering, shoeless Benson to the spot where he’d left his boots.  Saturday night, after we celebrated Michael’s birthday with singing, cake, and presents, most of the kids rushed off to claim their spots for movie night. Instead of doing the same, James sat next to Michael and translated every one of the cards Michael received to be sure he understood how much his new family loves him. And when Michael was whisked off to the sitting room to claim his seat in the birthday throne, Isaac took the birthday boy’s cards and presents to their room and put them neatly away in Michael’s trunk. Precious beyond words.

My favorite nightly ritual of saying goodnight to the children oftentimes entails reading a story to several of them, something I promised myself I would never refuse, and last night was no exception. First, I read a book about a wily frog to Miriam, and then Rahab called me over to read The Truck Book. I read it to her once, and then for the next two times, we took turns reading to it each other page by page.  My heart melted during each and every one of these treasured instances- how lucky am I that I get to watch all of this unfold?

Those were the high moments of my week; my low came early Saturday. I woke up feeling out of sorts. I knew a good cry was coming my way (I’d already stifled it a day earlier when I decided that I was receiving enough stares as the only muzungu (white person) on a packed tulaga (large bus) and that crying would only result in that attention growing ten-fold.) On Saturday morning, I grabbed a cup of coffee and ventured outside to say good morning to the kids. Shortly thereafter, one of our older girls called me over to the tree stump she was perched on. After a short exchange, she told me she was missing her mother, to which I replied, barely holding it together, that I did to.  We talked about how it was okay to feel sad sometimes, exchanged a big hug and then I had to excuse myself before I started crying in front of her. It is hard not to feel silly missing your family and home- a family and home you chose to move away from- when surrounded by children who have lost theirs, but as I spoke about last time, there is a strong, dynamic family growing right here that I am proud to be apart of.

To those of you in Newport, enjoy that beautiful ocean view for me. To friends and family in Boston and the surrounding area, enjoy the beautiful foliage, crisp air, and football games (go BC/Pats!)

To ups, downs, and life lived to the fullest,

Julianna

Brian assisting Ann

Smile!

Water, water everywhere!

Just Cannot Stop Watching…

It is my hope that you will watch this, feel shaken, amazed and empowered and then pass it along.

The Girl Effect, posted with vodpod

A Family Grows

The moment I saw my two coworkers’ faces at the airport ten days ago, it struck me with utter clarity that I already felt extremely content and at home. Cheesy? You bet. Nevertheless, as we drove up the red dirt road, entered into the beautifully green grounds of the Flying Kites Center, and caught sight of the children all lined up to sing their welcome song, my only thought was “Oh, yes.”

Since then, I have experienced several moments of feeling far, far away from those I love and the day-to-day things that feel ‘normal.’ In those moments, I feel vulnerable and overwhelmed. But I am far away from Newport and Boston, and it would be totally unnatural not to experience those emotions. That being said, it is hard for me to put into words how happy I am here.

 

My new home

 

My new home, the FK Center as we call it here on the ground, is about a mile from the town of Njabini. The road from town is quick to turn into a nearly unmanageable mess of mud when it rains (which it has everyday since I’ve been here) but perched on top a hill, surrounded by picturesque farmland, is the incredibly special place that I am lucky enough to call home.  Comprised of the main house (pictured above), where the kids, staff, and volunteers sleep and several buildings which we turned into classrooms, there is no shortage of open, green space to play in or big, airy rooms to read & do homework in. From the front yard, we have a stunning view of Elephant Mountain and several other hills that form the base of the Aberdares Mountain Range. Flying Kites means it when it says they started by getting the basics right. The center is in many ways an idyllic place to carry out a childhood, and it isn’t a bad place to spend your early twenties either.

 

Elephant Mountain

 

From day one here, it has been a stimulating journey. Getting to know the five volunteers currently living & working here at the center has been a great joy and there is always a little one who wants to play cards, Zingo (yes, that’s bingo with a zing,) or read. Literally, everyday is rich with new challenges and exciting opportunities.

Just before I arrived, the Country Director Brian Jones got word from the FK Directors stateside that we were ready to take in another child. So on the third day I was here, we met Michael. He was brought to see us by his elderly grandfather, who simply could not provide his grandson with the care he deserved. He told us this with great emotion, and it was clear that his words & his desire for us to take Michael in came from a place of deep love.  Being a part of meetings and decisions with such gravity was at once invigorating and overwhelming for me.

 

Michael

 

Michael, 8 years old, moved in with us two days later.  Two of our boys, Benson and Isaac, instantly took Michael under their wing. On Michael’s first night with us, he fell out of his bed in the middle of the night (bottom bunk, thank goodness!) For several nights after that, Benson insisted on sleeping with him, on the outside, so that there was no chance Michael would tumble out again. I discovered this one night while tucking the boys into bed. All of a sudden, all the boys started saying “Auntie Julianna, where is Michael? Where is Michael?” They all had glee in their eyes and poorly concealed grins on their faces. Before I even had time to guess, Benson had flung open his covers to reveal Michael snuggled up next to him. It was a precious moment that left me with no doubt that Flying Kites is raising these children to be every bit as wonderful and compassionate as we hope.

Along with that touching display of familial love, I have seen many other situations unfold over the past week that left me with a palpable sense that the FK kids, staff, and volunteers here are truly a family, in every sense of the word.  I have used the term family to describe our children and staff here from the first day I started working at Flying Kites, but the truth in those words has hit me in a much deeper, clearer way since I’ve become a part of it.

Last week, our head teacher’s father passed away. We cancelled school on the day of the funeral and the entire FK family- matrons, kids, teachers, guards, program managers, and volunteers- donned our smartest outfits, and attended the ceremony.  This may seem like an obvious thing to do, but transporting 18 children and nearly that many adults is no easy task here. But it was all undertaken gladly to support Teacher Kariuke and honor his father’s life. The children did their best to sit still and be attentive during the three-hour ceremony, but the two flanking me fell asleep on my lap for a solid half hour (and of course, I cherished every moment of it.) Seeing the staff and kids come together for Teacher Kariuke made me realize that these are not ordinary co-workers or students. They treat each other as family, and rightfully so.

 

Jane and Francis

 

Yesterday, Jane, our Magnet Effect Program Manager and the wife of Francis, our Managing Director, graduated from college. Brian, three of our oldest kids and myself journeyed to Naivasha with Francis to attend the graduation ceremony. The church where the ceremony was held was so packed that we had to listen from the church grounds, along with several hundred others. We soaked in the sun for a few hours while various school administrators and pastors said their bit, but when it came time for the graduates to receive their diplomas and take pictures, we squeezed into the at-capacity building. The day had just started to feel like it was dragging on when we caught sight of Jane’s glowing face, and that made it all worth it. Soon the ceremony ended and our motley crew rushed over to Jane to hug and congratulate her. Posing for pictures with her, Francis, the kids, and Brian, I was overwhelmed by how close I felt to them all. Once again, I couldn’t shake the word family from my mind.

 

James in the Mutatu on the way to Naivasha

 

Afterwards, we all returned to Jane and Francis’s wonderful home for a delicious meal, some good old fashioned romping around outside, and of course, singing & dancing. We arrived before rest of the FK kids and volunteers, but Jane, Francis, and Brian all declined to eat until “the rest of their kids get here.”  When I heard each one of them say that, I felt full to the brim with love for my new family. When all the kids and volunteers arrived, I surprised myself by how happy I was to see them. It had only been one day and yet I already missed them.

I know this is all quite corny, but every word of it is true, and I had to share it with all of you. I have taken myself far away from one family- a family I miss daily- only to find myself smack in the middle of another one. The family I spend my days with right now may be a lot less traditional and a hell of a lot noisier, but it is every bit as real as any other family out there.  Having 18 children in your family can be really tiring, but it also means there are 18 smiles to brighten your day.

With love,

Julianna

 

Rahab

 

 

Lucy W

 

 

Isaac

 

Mwanzo

‘Beginning’ translated to Kiswahili is mwanzo (at least that is what the free online translator said) and there is no better way to describe where I am right now. I am at the beginning of what is sure to be an incredible adventure, a period of growth and exploration, and six months that will surely leave an indelible mark on my life. Tonight I leave the U.S. and begin traveling towards South Kinangop, Kenya where I will reside at the Flying Kites Leadership Academy for the next six months. I am moving to Kenya to continue & expand my role as Volunteer Program Director for Flying Kites Global.

For the past year I have been in charge of recruiting, interviewing, preparing volunteers for their trip, making them feel welcome upon return & encouraging their continued participation in our mission; during the time I am in Kenya, I will add managing the volunteers on the ground to that list. I could not be more excited to join the Flying Kites team in Kenya and to begin working with volunteers during their time at FKLA. Looking out on the next six months, I see an incredible opportunity for me to grow professionally, but of course I also want this experience on a personal level.

I am calling this blog “Awake My Soul” for a few reasons. To start, it is the name of a song (Awake My Soul by Mumford & Sons) that I have been belting my heart out to constantly for the last month. At some point during a particularly heartfelt sing-a-long (solo in my car, I’m sure) I realized that I know the next six months is going to do exactly that: Awake my soul. I don’t mean this to imply that my soul is currently asleep, or otherwise lost, rather that the experiences ahead-traveling, experiencing new things daily, learning about a different culture, living with & getting to know 17 marvelous children, generally existing far away from my comfort zone- will undoubtedly shake me up, inspire me, and awaken me to fullest extent.

I hope you all will enjoy following my experiences through this blog- I will write as often as I can. Friends, family, and fellow Kiters, thank you for all your support. I will miss you everyday. To any of you itching for an adventure or a change of scenery, come visit the Flying Kites family in Kenya! We welcome visitors, although you have to be willing to leave a piece of your heart with the smiling faces below.

The FK Kiddies

Kenya, here I come! Stay tuned for the many adventures to come.

Love,

Julianna