Full bellies for a start to "Back to School"....
Around the planet our leaders contemplate herd and isolation strategies as they grapple with the complexities of this global pandemic. Who would have thought that with all the world's technology and morality -- and for so many months -- this damned crisis would persist.
In Kenya, things are no different than in the rest of the world and possibly worse. You see, children here most often board in dorms far away from their families and very very close to one another. So - the government is again and understandably waffling on the policy that returns all kids to school as cases rise exponentially . Two grades have returned so far but if I was a bettin' man - would say that it will be January before we see a full return to school.
That said, the readers of this blog thoughtfully sent a bit of Doe Ray Mee to yours truly so that food could be brought in for those kids who have just returned to Malezi school.
Massive thanks again to the generosity of DJ, Cliff and Barry and others for their contributions. Also - I have struck a deal with a farmer in the Mara who will supply beans in the future at 40% less than what we have been paying. I'm pretty excited about that. From the farm to the table cuts out a lot of potentially greedy middle peoples.
Children on motorcycles - anatomy of a crash
While a bit disturbing, I'll share with you the events of my super fun Friday night. My thought here is to share my experience of driving a vehicle in a place far different than my home and native land Canada. A place where there are virtually no road rules other than intimidation and bribery. When I get behind the wheel of the truck, without being overly dramatic (and I certainly can do that 😊) I'm under no illusions as to what that means, and accept the risks that go along with it.
As I eased through the mean streets of Ruaka, a "suburb" of Nairobi and decidedly dangerous, I cursed myself for leaving the Mara late and having the four hour drive extend past nightfall. That combined with an earlier traffic jam in a place called Mai Mahui (meaning hot water in the Kikuyu language) meant I was in the "danger zone" -- that time of the evening when bad things like car-jacking and robbery are likely. I also cursed the rain that was falling now making visibility near zero. Add to that, my blacked out windows necessary to keep potential bad guys from seeing a Mzungu (white guy) behind the wheel which means only one thing. Money!
Finding myself in yet another nasty traffic jam, the two lane road had grown to 5 with 4 lanes coming toward me on both sides. My single lane crept through the center as motorcycles and Matatus (small passenger vans) whirled and roared devilishly all around me. Finding myself at an intersection of sorts, I was waved through by oncoming traffic with a blinking of lights signalling that I was allowed to cross. As I moved forward I was suddenly hit by a motorcycle as such speed and force that the truck lurched sickeningly to one side and the rider sailed over the hood of the truck. This is big trouble.
You see, motorcycle riders in Nairobi protect one another with some kind of brotherhood that is known and feared by all. Hurt one - hurt them all -- is the mentality. Because there are no real road rules that apply and protect motorcycles, the threat of harm from the "brothers" does help to protect them from other Kenyan drivers who tend toward lacking in both patience and courtesy. Regardless of the Motorcycle riders reckless and thoughtless road antics, many lynchings and beating have occurred when an innocent motorist accidentally crosses the path of these people. Again - I'm in big trouble here.
I was surprisingly calm as I moved the Land Cruiser to a safe spot just ahead. With great clarity I remember thinking through the must do's. Lock up my phone and wallet - make sure windows are closed - make sure I lock the truck when I get out - make sure my keys are deep in my pocket ....and above all, don't rise the the bait - as perhaps 20 motorcycle riders had already converged on the scene. Without this forethought, the truck will be looted in an instant once I am distracted by the events and I'll be beaten.
I considered staying in the truck - but here - there is no 911 or police quickly coming to the scene and in fact police is the last thing you want. That will only mean a very expensive situation as you have taken the officer away from his bribe collecting activities.
Possibly, depending on the mood, the motorcycle guys would break the windows and pull me out if I didn't deal with the situation - meaning, safer outside than in.
As I left the relative safety of the truck, I surveyed the smashed motorcycle on the road and finally caught sight of the injured man on the ground. Everyone was yelling and shoving as the name of the game now is to establish blame and make the guilty party pay as much as possible. This is the critical point - and from experience I have learned to say nothing and let the situation chill a bit. To my great relief the injured man now stood and when asked said that he was OK. As he looked at me , I saw that he was young, very young - and surprisingly calm. "I'm OK" he said again- "just my leg". Remarkable I thought, given the intensity of the crash I had just witnessed.
The gang moved in around us quick and angry, shouting and pushing. Again I said nothing and just waited. The young man named Kevin got close enough to me to start the blame game, his accusations taken up by the assembled group. I said nothing until after a time said "can we talk over there where it's quiet?". He nodded and we moved away. But there was no chance to negotiate as the mob quickly closed in around us sensing an entertaining and hopefully violent confrontation.
I again got close enough to him to suggest that we get in my truck, where finally we were able to take a breath. "You came in my lane" he said. Yes, I admitted, I didn't see you -- was your headlight working? Why were you traveling so fast in a traffic jam I asked? He said nothing for a few moments - then - "I had 2 pizzas to deliver" -- I'm sorry, please don't call the police". So there it was - both admitting some blame.
We agreed to a price for the motorcycle -- wrote and signed an agreement -- paid the money on the spot -- and it was over. The motorcycle had somehow disappeared and the mob had moved on, and there I sat alone with only some dents and a flat tire to deal with next. I received some help and manged to change the tire and after 2 long hours on the roadside started the engine and pulled away feeling terrible about my fault in the accident, and the lack of rules that contribute to the problem. No one was badly hurt - so as always - isn't that the most important thing?
Greenhouses for days!!!
Below -- the exciting beginnings of 18 new greenhouses that will add a ton (literally) of productive capacity to our farm. Oleleishwa as it is called, will continue to expand so that we can provide nutritious reasonably priced food to the community we enthusiastically serve. For the record, (below) the man-bag looks ridiculous but where else can you put all your important goodies. And for the record, there is no foundation or eye liner in there 😆
Also for the record and to be clear - I proudly work for WE Charity, and that means working with a team to assist a community with Food, Health Care, Water, Opportunity and Education. That community is in Narok County Kenya, home to the Masai and Kipsigis tribes.
I also operate Just Food Africa as a "side hustle" on my own raising a bit of money to help the kids in Majengo slum. Primarily that work is supporting Grace and her Malezi volunteer school. If you would like to send money to me - this is what it will be used for.
e-interact @ laynemahon@live.com
Paypal laynegmahon@gmail.com
Thanks for reading ......Layno!!! (Greenhouses coming soon)
So the architecture is lovely with it's high ceilings and patio doors that so beautifully marry inside and outside on a sunny African afternoon, but for me, it's the communion with the natural world that makes this place so amazing.
That communion with nature does comes with unintended and not wholly appreciated consequences. All manner of insects also appreciate the wide open patio doors and join me in my home as uninvited guests. The big black crickets are my least favorite, and as mentioned previously in "Geckos on the ceiling", I live reluctantly with this band of merry little cold blooded hooligans who eat the bugs while I sleep somewhat peacefully through the night. I guess I should be a bit more appreciative of these ruffians.
A recently arrived guest is a Black Mamba who has taken up residence under my front door mat this week. At least I think it was, and given it's reputation for aggressive behavior leading to death of the the "disturber" I gave it a wide berth regardless. 
I received sincere thanks from the Majengo community for the food we delivered yesterday. Grace, our champion in the slum greeted me with a big hug and kiss on the cheek as I rolled up in the Land Cruiser with our donations of corn flour, rice, cooking oil and wheat flour. 
