Remember this slogan? It was found on bumper stickers in the 70s, from what I recall. Maybe this was my first attempt at editing: were they trying to say, “What on earth are you doing, for heaven’s sake?” Like, “Are you crazy or something?” Or maybe, “What on earth are you doing for Heaven’s sake?” as in, what’s your purpose here on earth before you go to Nirvana, Heaven or get reincarnated as an insect?
I thought of this bumper sticker when I read the essay submitted to me by friend and colleague Adriana Hendersen. She is a one-woman agent for change in Romania, and has changed the lives of dozens of boys forever. This is excerpted from the November issue of my newsletter PEN. In case you missed it, read on…
Why Am I Here? “Why are we here?” is a philosophical question concerning the purpose of life.
“I have asked myself many times why I am here, but with the emphasis on here, in the US.
“In 1970, I seemed destined for a different life, in Romania. My father was sentenced to spend his life in a communist prison for criticizing the government’s decision to deny the family the right to emigrate; and we, his children, were supposed to be sent to reeducation school. But we didn’t know that our situation had been receiving international attention. Following pressure from the United Nations and various churches, the Romanian government asked us to leave Romania immediately. It was a magnificent, magical, miraculous exit. We were the first family in Romania to leave legally, not only with a passport for emigrants, but also carrying an American green card.
“As a young girl I never once looked back, or even thought about what I had left behind. I thought I would forget Romania, and hoped I would forgive. I pursued everything the US offered: freedom and opportunity. I had a wonderful family, a big house in the suburb, cars, trips around the world, a closet full of designer clothes. Most important, my family was healthy. Yet it felt like something was missing.
“When the Iron Curtain fell in 1989 and images of the harsh realities in Romania besieged the world, I could not ignore my country and people anymore. The question “why am I here” started to nag me.
“As a child, all I could think of was survival. Now, with my newfound freedom came a desire to succeed. When success wasn’t enough, I started to look for significance. I wanted to give back, to make a difference, to acknowledge the blessings that were bestowed on me and possibly see if there was a reason for my being here.
“I was at a loss about what I could do, and for years I looked for some cause I could identify with. Then I met a woman who was looking for medicine to help a boy with hemophilia in Romania; he needed corrective foot surgery to walk. I barely knew anything about hemophilia, and the little I knew was mostly inaccurate. After a quick and shocking lesson on hemophilia, I began a quest to find the miracle medicine. It wasn’t easy, and the more I searched, the more I lost hope. I made hundreds of phone calls, all over the world, trying to source any kind of donation. It was a test of endurance and tenacity. I had one phone call left to make, the call to Project SHARE. They immediately shipped the factor, and the rest is history. That was more than 10 years ago.
“Since then, I know why I am here. The boy had surgery and his wish was granted: he is now walking. That’s when S.T.A.R. (Start Thinking About Romanian) Children Relief was born. S.T.A.R. is a multipurpose organization with an emphasis on healthcare and a focus on blood disorders. Through S.T.A.R.’s efforts and donated factor concentrate, many Romanian boys and adults with hemophilia have had their lives improved or spared. On World Hemophilia Day, April 17, 2004, S.T.A.R. organized the first-ever hemophilia symposium in Romania. And S.T.A.R. organizes and hosts Camp Ray of Hope, in its sixth consecutive year this past summer, the only camp for children with hemophilia in Romania.
“S.T.A.R. is also Save One Life’s partner for Romania. We have 59 children and adults with hemophilia sponsored through Save One Life. I know most of the beneficiaries personally, and have visited them at home or seen them at camp where they play with carefree enjoyment. I get to see them smile and hear them laugh. It feels awesome to be so intimately and personally involved.
“I never thought I would be involved in charity or volunteer work. I don’t have the personality. I am shy, withdrawn, introverted, not the type that would organize international conferences and fundraise for summer camps. It’s said that we, in the nonprofit world, change other people’s lives. That’s true, but in the process, our lives change too. We have a purpose, our life has meaning, we do things we thought we could never do. That’s a terrific feeling! We give a little, but we get a lot back.
“I know—Romania is close to my heart, and I have a vested interest in helping my people. But to anyone who, like me, is searching and wondering if there is something more than just the fleeting pleasures in life: if you want to make a difference or improve a life, while you improve your own, consider sponsoring a child. Look at the Save One Life website, where many with hemophilia are waiting to be sponsored. Pick a country, pick a child. Put a sparkle in those eyes that look so hauntingly and sadly at the lens. Bring a smile and a chance for a better life. It’s a small gesture that will bring priceless rewards. I know why I am here. Do you?”
Maybe the bumper sticker needs to simply say: “I know why I am here. Do you?”
Adriana Henderson is founder and president of S.T.A.R. Children Relief, a nonprofit dedicated to helping Romanian children in need. She was born in Romania and immigrated to the US, where she has lived for the past 40 years. She is a graduate of UCLA, and lives in North Carolina with her husband Tom, who often helps with her charitable work. They have two daughters. Visit www.starchildrenrelief.org
Our African travels now bring us to the Main Event—the Kilimanjaro climb. Up 19,370 feet in harsh weather in the middle of the night to raise money for Save One Life, our nonprofit child sponsorship program. Nine other people are now gathered Friday night in the lounge of the Kibo Palace Hotel in Arusha, Tanzania, to listen to two men, our guides, on whom our lives will depend, speak about our climb. With me are: my daughter (17), Eric Hill, president of BioRx and son Alex (14); Julie Winton, RN, BioRx; Jeff Salantai (31), BioRx; Neil Herson, president of ASD Healthcare and his two daughters Kelley (16) and Brittney (20). The only problem is my gear is missing, as is Eric’s and Alex’s. Eventually mine shows up much later that night (after many phone calls), but Eric and Alex are completely without clothes and gear. They will need to rent gear from the outfitters, Team Kilimanjaro.
We were up at 6 am on Saturday at the hotel, and ready by 7 am. It’s a lot of packing to think about, being gone for 6 days in the wilds of Africa! We don’t really know our guides yet; there’s just one guy with a big smile that seems to connect with everyone. On the bus Julie got everyone to sing our theme, “Ain’t No Mountain High Enough”! She likes the Marvin Gaye version while I like Diana Ross’s. There’s lots of chattiness; everyone is excited.
Machame gate
It takes 90 minutes to get to the Machame Gate. Along the way we saw rural Tanzania, how poor people are compared to US standards. We stopped half way at a convenience store, where most of the team bought little bracelets from a street vendor. Soon we are at the Gate. This is where it all begins! We filed out, and saw pandemonium. There were hundreds of people swarming. Porters lingered everywhere, big bags of gear sitting in the muddy and dusty roadway, other hikers of all nationalities… we wait about an hour to complete paperwork. It’s a bit confusing. We start putting on our hiking gear—gaiters, backpack covers—while waiting. The air is chillier than I expected. Finally we’re done and we start. It seems surreal: all our training, planning, fundraising, and here we go!
Our lead guide is Jonas Gerald, tall and impassive, assisted by Jacob Slaa, the guy with the big smile, and Frank, who perpetually smiles. We hike today from 12:30 pm until 6 pm, with one stop for lunch. I am so surprised when on the trail we pull up to a table, chairs, and wonderful food, in the middle of a forest!
We will go through 4-5 ecological zones on this climb. Today we hike through the forest. It is beautiful: nice and cool, moist, on a defined trail. There is huge green moss growing up and around the trees like some fuzzy, green sloths. Lichens hang down from other trees like trails of lace on a Victorian gown. It seems an easy hike, not too steep, a few rocks, and a set trail.
Julie is amazing: she thinks of everyone else on this trip. Today she has snacks for everyone and keeps everyone hydrated. Even the guides and porters get snacks!
14-year-old Alex, the youngest, is a strong hiker, as are Kara Ryan, and Kelly and Brittney Herson. I had wondered about the Herson girls and how they would fit in, as no one really knows them, but they are super sweet, strong, and soon, everybody loves them and their can-do attitude! We are fortunate to have a diverse group of 10 people who all get along well with one another.
We break for our first camp around 6:00 pm at the Machame Hut. We have a mess tent with a table, so we can all have dinner together. Dinner is hot veggies, celery soup, potatoes and fried fish. I learned Sama hani means “I’m sorry” (for stepping aside when porters brush by us) and Twende means “Let’s go!” (used often by our guide, Frank).
It’s fun to go to bed in our tent, with our sleeping bags. It’s been so long since I’ve done something like this, and I love it! And we are tired; we climbed from 6,000 feet at Machame Gate, to 10,170 feet tonight. We wait to see who will first feel the effects of altitude.
Day 2 Sunday, August 7, 2011 “Into the Mist” I guess I didn’t sleep too well. I fell asleep from 9:30 pm to 11 pm, but the porters kept us awake till 1 am or so with their animated chatter. They work very hard; I’ve never seen anything like it. They are efficient, powerful and zoom by us on the trail laden with all our tents, food for 6 days, sleeping bags, and clothes, all bundled into sacks, which they balance on their heads. These porters are often young guys, slim, and often without great gear themselves. Some wear sneakers with tears of holes; they are gloveless in the cold and wear regular street pants. I was up until 2 am and then slept off and on. I had strange dreams.
“Young” Frank (not the guide), a sweet, 20-year-old boy with a shy smile, starts our day with a cup of hot tea. It’s so nice! Ellie, another nice young man, tags along to add sugar. This is luxury! We sip hot tea in our sleeping bags and begin our day. I put on make up in the morning sunlight, which makes Eric laugh out loud. I will abandon this practice the very next day. Contrary to my belief, it’s not all about how you look on Kili. We are all sharing a small stand-up tent for a bathroom, which has a portable toilet in it. If you think about it, it’s kind of gross, but honestly, when you are there, it seems perfectly normal! We are even grateful for this small luxury!
Breakfast is eggs, toast, jam, and porridge.
The camp is crowded with other groups, including a loud Japanese or Chinese delegation. It looks like a refugee camp here!
We start out earlier than most groups, at 8:06 am. The climb today takes us away from the forest and into the heather, or moorland zone. The topography changes dramatically. It’s cool, and mist rolled in above us and around us. I feel surprisingly great. We will climb to 12,461 feet when the hike is done. We move more slowly today, with Alex the guide leading the way, steadying our pace. There are lots of rocks on the trail and narrow turns and ledges. The trees are beautiful! At first I think we are in a scene from the “Wizard of Oz,” when they come to a poppy field. Then later on, I think this is like a scene from Peter Jackson’s “King Kong.” Very primordial, with lava rocks and giant boulders.
A popular plant we see is the lobelia deckenii, or what our guide calls the “Antifreeze plant.” It closes up tightly each night to protect its leaves and unfolds to catch the morning light.
The air is crisp, cool, and moist; we don’t sweat much today. But the dust! The air is filled with baby-powder fine dust that infiltrates everything. Our nostrils are black, faces were smeared with dirty streaks, and our fingernails are ringed in black.
Up, up, and up we go. There is still a clear trail, which I didn’t expect. Sometimes the trail is made of stone steps, winding, twisty, steep. Neil falls further behind us, and I am next to last as I am kind of slow. Jacob stays with him while the rest of us push on. The air is thinner and it is harder to walk at 12,000 ft.
Julie and I hang out together, walking slower than the rest. I am also taking photos, which slows me down. The scenery is spectacular! We need to stop now and then to eat, take water. The porters truck past us on the trail, their loads frighteningly heavy. We are constantly shouting, “Porters right!” to let them by us.
Lunch break! We have peanut butter sandwiches, fruit and avocados, and carrot soup, which is delicious! Then they bring out pasta and sauce! I couldn’t eat any of that.
We walk slowly the next hour and a half through the Shira Plateau to the next camp. This is when we get our first real look at Kibo, the dramatic summit of Kilimanjaro, rising up above the rocks, blue in color with clouds challenging its summit. At one point, I am totally alone! Not another human being in the place. It is glorious. I look all around, and hear nothing nor see anything. Just me and Kili. I wish it could have lasted longer. Privacy is one thing you don’t get on the popular Machame route.
I stroll into Shira Cave camp and am greeted by the others. I wash up for dinner and everything is black. My legs and arms were filthy black.
Neil arrived around 4:50, a full 90 minutes after we arrived in camp. I bring him hot tea while his girls put him in his sleeping bag. I also brought him a Cliff bar for fast energy. When Julie comes on the scene, she takes charge to help; altitude sickness is serious and must be dealt with. We are so blessed to have Julie with us, as a nurse and compassionate friend!
Day 3 Monday “Walking on the Ocean Floor”
I took melatonin last night and had a great night’s sleep, despite the cold. I am shocked when I unzip my tent to see frost coating everything. I left my boots outside and they are frozen today. Huge white-necked ravens sit in the small trees near us, cawing for some food. (Which of course I toss to them) Sun strikes the far away ridges of the mountains, which are separated from us by clouds and looked beautifully surreal. We are actually looking down on the clouds! Breakfast is on, and I’m hungry. We had porridge, toast, eggs and jam.
After some discussion, it’s decided that Neil will go back down the mountain today. The rest of the trip will only get harder—and higher. It’s a loss to our group, as Neil was such a driving force behind our fundraising and so motivational for us all.
Today will be a long day of climbing, about 7 hours. We will go to 15,000 feet, then descend for the evening back to 13,000 feet, to help us acclimate. We hit the trail by 8:06 am and walk for two hours. Within 10 minutes we can feel the 12,000 ft. altitude. Our quads burn and our legs feel heavy. We walk in single file quietly, shouldering our back packs, following a trail that leads us toward Kili, heads down, like a herd of burdened, untethered pack mules. Frank is in the lead, walking pole, pole (slowly, slowly). It’s cold, but when the sun comes out, layers come off quickly.
We stop frequently as we tire easily. We sip water from our Camelbacks, and slow our pace. I want photos so I hang back a bit from the others. The terrain is more sparse now, just scrubby bushes with so many rocks! Some of the monoliths are huge, standing erect like those statues at Easter Island, keeping vigil over this ancient mountain. Small boulders dot the lunar-like landscape, with clumps of red straggly moss hanging off of them. It’s easy to remember now that Kilimanjaro is a volcano, and what I see around me were lava rocks from inside the volcano, deposited here long ago after an eruption.
I feel at times like I’m walking on the bottom of an aquarium, which someone tried to decorate to simulate the ocean floor. It occurs to me that this area may have been submerged in water millions of years ago; like the high mesas in Canyon Lands, Utah, where you can still see salt beds, remnants of a receded salt ocean millions of year ago.
It isn’t a difficult hike, but tiring, due to the thin air. Eventually we stop for lunch near the Lava Tower, and I find myself staring blankly. Lunch is great: hard-boiled eggs, sandwiches, fruit, cornbread, avocado, and tea. We don’t rest long. Today we climb to 15,000 feet, and then camp at 13,000 feet. So far, no altitude sickness.
After lunch we descend down a very steep, rocky path, into the Barranco Valley, and we trek through the alpine desert. It’s beautiful—for a rock lover like me, this is heaven. The rocks are enormous, pitted and some are shiny black. Mist rolls in and it becomes very chilly. The topography looks like a scene from the movie Lord of the Rings. As we hike, we feel like characters in the movie. The air becomes dramatically colder and we all threw on more layers and rain gear. I think the temperature might be freezing, until I step in some mud and see a little rivulet. The wind chill makes it feel freezing.
The group soon forges ahead, leaving Julie and me with Jonas. I enjoy this walk the most. The alpine desert is hemmed in by ridges of Kilimanjaro, dotted with lava rocks, and decorated with the most unusual looking trees. We laugh that they look like those from a Dr. Seuss story, such as the Lorax. Truffula trees! They also at times remind me of saguaro cactus. These are the giant senecios. Hard to believe that they’re cousins to the daisy. I thought I might hear songs run through my head while gazing at such scenery, but no. My mind is silent, in the moment, observing and taking it all in.
We arrive at Baranco camp, where a few other groups await. Everyone is tired, and sits about doing their own thing: Jeff napping on a rock; Kara writing in her journal. I hike ahead of Julie and Jonas and had a bit more time to walk alone in solitude, which made me happy. This camp sits in a little valley, and is beautiful.
What will tomorrow bring? It’s much too cold to change clothes or even wash up. Washing in the hot basin that Frank brings each morning is great, but there is nothing to dry oneself on. Thankfully we brought little towels that seem to dry quickly. We do our best to stay clean!
Tomorrow, Day 4, will bring us to the foot of the summit path! More to come….
We achieved our dream: our team summited Kilimanjaro on Wednesday morning, August 10, at 6:54 am, and raised over $52,000! I’ll give a detailed blog about that but let me finish up with Nairobi first.
We were thrilled to hear that Eric Hill, president of BioRx and a sponsor, and his 14-year-old son Alex were finally arriving in Nairobi this morning, August 4, at 6:30 am. Their flight Tuesday was delayed in DC, which caused them to miss a connection, then they spent a day or so in Europe waiting for another flight to get out. The worst part is that their luggage containing their climbing gear disappeared! All the climbing gear needed for Kilimanjaro was in limbo. We thought they must be tired, and we had a full day of family visits ahead out in Murang’a, about a two-hour drive from Nairobi. Amazingly, they wanted to go straight from the airport, meet us at the hotel and come with us.
They were in for an amazing day. After introductions to Maureen Miruka, president of the Jose Memorial Hemophilia Society-Kenya, and Paul Kamau, person with hemophilia who also works for the JMHS, Isaac and Adam, young men with hemophilia and volunteers, Jagadish, who has a son with hemophilia and is a board member, we all piled into the van and headed out. With us: Julie Winton, RN, of BioRx; Kara Ryan (20), medical student; Alex and Eric Hill, Jeff Salantai (31), person with hemophilia, of BioRx; and my daughter. Battling thick Nairobi traffic, we reached Murang’a in two hours and first stopped at the Murang’a District Hospital. Driving up the red clay road and driveway, this was our team’s first look at a county hospital in the developing world.
Murang’a is where a whopping 80% of the JMHS’s hemophilia patients reside. Maureen and her team have done exceptional outreach to locate the patients. We met with Dr. Charles Kigo, chief of the hospital and Dr. Nguyo, who treats the hemophilia patients, and they were amazed to meet Jeff Salantai, who has hemophilia and is healthy, physically fit and strong. Dr. Kigo kept eyeing him up and down in amazement. Jeff shared his treatment regimen and lifestyle. We also presented the doctors with a gift of much-needed factor.
We toured the wards and were able to see the conditions of rural healthcare, a place where 40% of births still happen in homes. The waiting room is outside, with bench seats, protected from the elements only by a tin roof. There is a nice neonatal ward, which is nonetheless in need of a new paint job and incubators for preemies. One hemophilia patient was admitted, Zakayo, who I wrote about in April 2010, when I visited him in Muthare, the psychiatric ward in Nairobi. The poor young man had been traumatized by rioters, and admitted. Now, he was in the county hospital to treat a bleed. Still, he needed a few more tests before being released, which he could not afford. We gladly paid the bill to get him released the next day and return home.
Next stop: Peter’s home, my second visit here. Peter is Zakayo’s brother, and also has hemophilia; he looked great on this day. His home was just a quick ride up a dirt road from the hospital. Our team sat with Peter and his mother to hear how they cope with hemophilia. They were able to look about and see their poverty: a small, two room home for four adults and one child. No place to cook; the mother must cook outside in a pot. They own a bunk bed, an old couch, a small table and chair set, a bookshelf and one bed for the mother. The mother is single and pays heavily for rent and electricity. She cannot afford these things. Some days she cannot feed her children. And she must look for odd jobs because she cannot hold a steady job; the boys require too much care. How will she live? We gave her some money to help her stay solvent, pay her electricity bill in arrears, and vowed to help more.
The images of poverty continue to assault us as we moved on. Next stop: Stanley.
I met Stanley in April 2010. He was in a new location now, again a short drive from the hospital but situated off the main road, on a dirt road and down a dirt path. There’s no electricity or plumbing. They use candles, and an outhouse. Stanley has a small “farm”: one cow and some vegetables. He told us about how difficult it is to farm with joint contractures. He wants to start a business, being a street vendor selling shoes. It would cost $400 to get started, to purchase the initial inventory of shoes, and Maureen and I immediately considered him for our new micro-loan program. Our team was able to ask questions about his treatment, bleeding episodes, and life day to day. His wife is pregnant with their third child. This was an eye-opener for our team, to truly see how the other half lives. Hemophilia in such a place can be a death warrant. Julie immediately saw the need for home infusion, something that is unheard of in most developing countries. Our goal will be to break this mindset and get as many patients as possible on home infusion. We presented Stanley with his Save One Life money.
Alex began handing out candy to the many children who gathered to see the strange parade of foreigners, and they giggled and jumped with excitement! The children followed Alex and the team right up to the van windows, hoping to catch more.
Last stop before heading back to Nairobi was at the house of Virginia, Paul’s aunt. She remembered me and greeted each of us as if we were long lost family members! We all got a kick out of her enthusiastic hugs and megawatt smile. This is a beautiful lady with an incredible face etched with character. Again, the extended family lives in a jungle or forest: dirt floors, no windows, and no electricity or plumbing. They farm a few vegetables. The biggest shock was seeing little Derrick, who has a sponsor in the US. Last year’s photo showed an adorable little two year old with hemophilia. Now, he had suffered a fall, hit his head, and had a massive swelling on his forehead. Luckily, Derrick is well cared for by the JMHS, and has been receiving treatment. But with no car, no public transport, families like this are stranded! Dr. Michael Wood, founder of AMREF, the Flying Doctors of Kenya, once said that in Africa, you cannot wait for patients to come and see you; you must go see them or they will die. This is the foundation upon which Save One Life operates—we must see the patients, note their needs, and empower them. Home infusion is the only way.
I’m happy to say that all of the patients we visited have sponsors, and their sponsorship money makes a huge difference in their lives. They struggle for every single Kenyan shilling they earn, just to survive. Our dollars improve their lives instantly, giving them money needed for transportation, medicine, food and vitamins. On this visit, our team saw first-hand the difference Save One Life in partnership with the JMHS is making.
Do you want to sponsor a Kenyan child with hemophilia? Please visit www.saveonelife.net! They need your support!
Having a good discussion is like having riches. Kenyan proverb
Chilly weather continued in Nairobi, probably about 65 degrees. Jeff Salantai, Julie Winton, Kara Ryan and my daughter were all up by 7 am for a delicious buffet breakfast. Today we stayed in Nairobi, to visit the Health Ministry, the MP Shah Hospital, and the patients. Maureen again met us at the Southern Sun Hotel after breakfast and we set out in considerably less traffic. Within 30 minutes we arrived at the Health Ministry. We were disappointed to learn that Dr. William Maina, the director of non-communicable disease department, whom I met last year, was unable to join us due to a meeting. He did, however, graciously come to the parking lot to say hello and greet the American visitors.
With time on our hands, all dressed up and nowhere to go, Maureen took us to the Westland market to buy souvenirs. My colleagues were all first-timers to Africa, and Africa has a beautiful and colorful array of gifts: from Masai warrior shields in red leather, to stone carved animals, to pottery, beaded jewelry and the colorful Masai blankets made of wool. All at bargain prices! Everyone got an opportunity to bargain the prices, although most Americans are not comfortable doing this. We did have with us Paul Kamau, Adam, Isaac and Jagadish, who helped translate and then negotiate. There were so many vendors, with blankets spread on the concrete, wares displayed, hawking for our attention. Jeff and I decided to visit the vendors in the rear, as they seemed neglected. We laughed that it was like a hemophilia meeting, where the vendors in the front often get all the traffic!
We decided to have a sit down lunch (when traveling to the field to visit patients we often skip lunch entirely!) and Jagadish, who is Kenyan but also Indian, suggested a good Indian restaurant. The food was amazingly good and we relaxed and had many laughs. Our favorite moment was when Julie mistook the jalapeño pepper for a green bean (a green bean, Julie?) and we caught her reaction on film!
After lunch came the real purpose of the day: to tour the MP Shah Hospital and then meet the patients. Dr. Paresh Dave, hematologist, took us on a tour of the beautiful, private hospital, where many hemophilia patients find expert treatment. Julie especially was intrigued with their level of care. The hospital is clean and efficient. When asked what he needed that we could help supply for his hospital, we were surprised to learn that Dr. Dave requested butterfly needles! Imagine. The things we often toss away if they are not the preferred size in our factor box. Julie was proud to relay that Alex (still en route to Africa at that point), age 16, had solicited two pallets of medical supplies for the MP Shah and shipped them, courtesy of his dad, Eric Hill. Though delayed in customs, the shipment was in Nairobi and butterflies were on their way.
After the tour, we went into the lecture room to meet the patients. I was beaming with joy to see so many I had met over the past two years. Flora, a lovely woman whose son Victor had passed away at age 15, just four years ago. Florence Odwar, who we had just visited on Monday, and her daughter Moline, who has VWD; Charles, who I had visited last year at his home, far outside Nairobi, now living in Nairobi and working, and proud father of baby Alvin; Gladys with son Justus and nephew Kevin, who wants to be a doctor. I gave lots of hugs to so many I knew; the Kenyans are truly warm and gracious, and really know how to make you feel welcome!
Dr. Dave opened with a warm and even funny speech about how much they have progressed as a team, and how he will commit to continue to help. Maureen reviewed the history of their society, and complimented her team on their help. She stressed the importance of patient and parent involvement. I also gave a brief speech to remind everyone that our foreign visitors were here to raise funds, so that we would have the money to start micro loans and scholarships through Save One Life, our nonprofit that works at a grassroots level in developing countries.
Flora spoke, Kevin spoke… it was very heart wrenching to hear of the loss of some children, but stunning to know even those who lost children are still working with the society so that other families would not suffer. These include Maureen herself, whose five-year-old son Jose died just four years ago.
Maureen asked Julie, Jeff, Kara and my daughter to say a little something, so each guest got up and spoke. Jeff was very emotional in thanking everyone, as he realized fully his blessings in life compared to those with hemophilia in Kenya. Julie could barely speak as she was overcome with emotion, facing the towering strength and dignity of the parents, despite their losses and suffering; Kara thanked everyone for the privilege of letting them be a part of their lives.
After the speeches, we had tea and snacks, and Maureen and I handed out toys we had brought from the States. Stuffed animals are not common in Kenya, so these were a prized commodity! We also gave away kazoos, balls and T-shirts.
Julie had a brilliant and spontaneous idea: with all the patients present, why not conduct a home-infusion workshop? She simply got to work, and found her first volunteer. Many of the children have very hard-to-find veins, but Julie is a pro! Before she knew it, every patient in the room lined up for an infusion. In fact, we left her there to go back to the hotel to work out!
Kilimanjaro looms in our mind and I was getting a bit nervous not working out, after an intense two months of working out. I hit the gym and gave a good hour of cardio. We joined Julie, Jeff and Kara later than evening for a light dinner to review the remarkable day. “Having the good discussions” by the patients, and the home visits yesterday, have given them all a good slice of how Africans live with hemophilia, their obstacles to care and the culture that keeps patients quiet and uncomplaining.
Yeah, they are in love with Africa. I knew it would happen, as it happened to me, too, long ago.
Nobody walks with another man’s gait. —Kenyan proverb
Tuesday, August 2, was Day 2 of our African odyssey. We were up early to have breakfast in the outdoor dining area of the Southern Sun Hotel. It was very cool, and we ate poolside and had a wonderful breakfast of hot tea, eggs, rolls and fresh fruit. Julie, Kara, Jeff and I reviewed our plans for the day, which involved driving to Nyahururu, over four hours, to see Simon, a hemophilia patient. Despite some jet lag, everyone was excited to have this adventure.
Maureen Miruka drove up around 8, along with a van, and several members of the Jose Memorial Hemophila Society—Paul Kamua, secretary at the society, Adam, and Isaac, all of whom have hemophilia. The biggest problem in Nairobi is traffic, which held us up for almost two hours. We finally broke free and hit the highway, unexpectedly spotting a lovely little herd of zebras alongside the road. The highway was deteriorating and very bumpy. We were jostled around for four and a half hours, until we finally came to Nyahururu. Along the way we passed lush countryside, and had a brief pause at the famed Rift Valley! Everyone admired the beautiful Masai blankets, did a little souvenir shopping and haggling before climbing back in.
Once in Nyahururu, we sought out Simon’s home. I had been here just last year to see Simon, and was really struck with how isolated he was. We climbed the rich red soil road, twisting and turning around every bend, rocks churning under our tires, until we reached his farm on top of a hill.
His farm gives a spectacular view of Kenya, and the sun was shining brilliantly. We piled out, and stumbled our way up the path through his farm. Scampering about were three yellow dogs: a mother and her two pups. One of the pups I easily recognized from last year. Now grown, he remained as friendly as he was last year, though his brother was completely untrusting. Chickens clucked about, and the family gathered around to welcome us.
Simon has a cell phone and texts me now and then, but aside from a cell phone, there wasn’t a single luxury. No electricity, no plumbing. We all used the outhouse, which was actually the cleanest outhouse I have ever used, and I have used many. There is something to be said for simple, optioned-style rural living. I imagine the stars are spectacular from his farm. Still, there is no doubt: Simon lives in total rural poverty.
As we sat down to a homemade lunch of fresh-killed chicken and nutritious mokina, a national dish made of pumpkin leaves, we all asked Simon questions about his knees, health and treatment of hemophilia. His knee remains completely unstable from the deterioration of the joint. Simon is one of the few in Kenya who knows how and is allowed to self-infuse. This is great, because it means he can infuse immediately when he has a bleed, which will spare him much pain and crippling.
As we ate, I looked about his interior: sheet metal roofing (very noisy when it rains), and two-by-fours covered with—get this—stapled cardboard. Very crude, very poor. Yet we ate delicious, fresh food that could have been served in any restaurant!
After lunch came a mug of steaming hot tea. Then a trip up the hill to the outdoor “mountain spring water” which pipes down to an outdoor pump. We can imagine that this is what our American ancestors had to deal with two hundred years ago!
Simon has been asking for a micro-loan so he can start a business, and our Kilimanjaro mountain climb can definitely help him accomplish this. I am really hoping to write within the year to let you all (or “y’all,” as Jeff likes to say) know that Simon got his micro loan and his business is underway. I’m counting on it, and it’s part of what motivates me to climb!
After a lovely afternoon with Simon, his brothers Richard and John, we gathered ourselves together and hit the road. Another 4.5 hours back to Nairobi and we were exhausted. Whenever we thought we were tired or sore, we all thought of Simon, what it must feel like to travel all this way to Nairobi for treatment, when you are also enduring a horrible bleed. It seems inconceivable, and made us silence any complaints. Simon, limping, in pain, still wants to start a business and do something with his life. For a brief time, Simon allowed us that rare opportunity to walk in another man’s shoes. Now we know what he needs—a micro loan—and now we can pool resources to make this happen.
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