Let the Children Come

Our parade.

Adventures ensue with my travel mama, Alwine, Rainer, Irene & Miguel (the Spanish volunteers)! Visible from just outside the compound is what's known as 'the hill.' (I'm sure it has a more official name), which is about an hour and a half walk from us. Along with Honorada, the sisters' cook, we left the compound around 11am, while the air was still fresh and sweet, especially in the shade. But this is Kenya and it soon became extremely hot.

An hour into the walk, we arrived at Anne's house, who works in the production unit & was our guide for the day. The children around her nyumba  quickly pulled up chairs and a table for us, then came the large thermos of chai and boiled arrow root.  Sitting in the shade, chatting was very pleasant, but there was still a lot of trekking ahead of us.

Some of the children who walked with me.

From this point, we suddenly grew in number as more and more people joined us for our walk up the hill. Anne, her daughter, sister, nieces, nephews and children from the village joined us. Our group had gone from seven to around 20. At first, the children just stared at us (there were 5 wazungu in one group..) but as we rose up the hill, they became more outgoing.

One girl, Paris, began as the spokesperson for all the children. She was confident and had excellent English. She was the first to ask for her picture to be taken..the rest obviously followed. After our little photo shoot, I had lost my original group and was surrounded by children. I was pretty ok with it.

Once we broke through the tree line, the hill rose steeply and the sun beat mercilessly down on us. I was panting (and embarrassed) as the children walked past me. As always, the final stretch was the most strenuous, but the reward was worth it. The slopes of Mt. Kenya lay before us, with patches of sunlight and shadow caused by the fluffy clouds. It was a wonderful sight!

After resting for a while up top, we descended the hill on the other side. The path was not really a path, so the rowdy boys ran all over trying to find the best way down. I happily stayed in the rear of the group with the younger girls. One of them, Gloria, was an incredibly sweet girl of about eight. Her shoes were not appropriate for the steep, rocky hillside, so it took her a long time to climb down. At one point, we became separated from the rest of the group. She said I didn't walk very fast, but, I told her, I was walking with her. She smiled and from that point was constantly by my side.

'Jesus'..Gloria is on my right, in the striped shirt.

After we got to the bottom, all the children informed me that we were going to see Jesus. Logically, I expected to be taken to a church. Instead, we arrived at these sand towers that radiated heat. The kids all ran around, climbing all over them. I'm still not sure why they call them Jesus...

As we returned to Anne's, I was beginning to feel comfortable with the group of children that surrounded me. I felt like Don Bosco--a friend of the youth. As we said good-bye to them, I felt quite content with the way Jesus had blessed my hike that day.