ACTION THIS DAY

Bamburi, Mombasa, Kenya

Dear Supporters of ACTION THIS DAY,

I am writing to inform you of the opening of our first school in Kenya. On May 10th we officially opened the doors to The Kookaburra Community Primary School, with our first student intake of 136 children, from kindergarten to the seventh of eight years of primary school. We cannot offer year eight until we have official registration from the Education Department.

It is hard to describe the difference between the total chaos that reigned on the Monday morning opening, to the feel of a fully functional and educational experience we were offering by Friday afternoon. On Monday, as parents and students milled about the small play area outside the house we have rented, carpenters continued to hammer, nail and saw their way through desks and chairs. The heavy rains and the Kenyan concept of time both conspired to delay us, but in the end we got there.

We have a thousand challenges ahead of us, not least in negotiating the multitude of government departments we must appease before we progress to full registration. We face water shortages (we need to buy our own regularly due to rationing); material shortages (ran out of chalk and red ink in the first week and no students yet have any text books). I am paying the teachers on a wing and a prayer (given that I don’t even know what that means, it’s all the more freaky). But we have started. The look of pride in the eyes of the students who know
they now have their very own place they can call school, well, that is priceless, and I am deeply happy for them.

Those of you who know the history of Restoration will know what I mean, as we have most of that remaining school population with us now. None of this could have happened if it were not for your encouragement and support and so I am taking this opportunity to say THANK YOU VERY MUCH for your interest in ACTION THIS DAY and in the lives of some very special but extremely poor children, in Mombasa, Kenya.

What’s in a name?

The Kookaburra Community School is run by a Community Based Organisation (CBO) in Bamburi, a district of Mombasa, Kenya. The CBO is sponsored by ACTION THIS DAY. There are nine Kenyans (teachers and parents) plus myself in this organisation, and when choosing the name of the school the Kenyans were unanimous in using the reference to an Australian children’s song I taught my class to sing at the end of year assembly when I was here in Mombasa 2008.

What next?

We are hopelessly lacking in everything. We could have enrolled 300 students if we had the space. We have turned away so many; many in circumstances that I cannot bring myself to recall here. We need materials for the school. We need ongoing sponsorships to pay teachers wages, rent, power, water and other consumables (think of a school and all that it requires to survive day to day). The web site will shortly be update to reflect these needs.

The house we have rented is only temporary until we find the right land and can afford to build our own school. I am acutely aware that we need to adopt sustainable practices as soon as we can (renting not sustainable), yet I am trying to balance this against the need of children whose lives are passing them by with little hope or help.

How You Can Help?

The following is a list needs that you can contribute to or sponsor on a regular basis. Donations can be made through our website, PayPal or directly into our sponsorship account (see below for details).

BSB: 804 050 Account Number: 3102 4735
Account Name: ACTION THIS DAY
Credit Union Australia

The first step for ACTION THIS DAY is to register to operate as an NGO here in Kenya. I am still a tourist and therefore cannot operate legally until I can apply to work for the NGO. We sent the papers off to Nairobi as there are no offices here in Mombasa. After reviewing them the NGO Council required a minor change to the stated purpose of the organisation. It amounted to a handful of words and I assumed we would deal with it over the phone or via email. No, you must come to Nairobi they tell me. An overnight bus trip and a struggle to
locate the offices found me eventually talking to one of the legal people there. They advised on the word changes and said “Go back to Mombasa, fix this, and then return”. They were serious. I extracted my laptop from my backpack and said I am doing this here and now. After much protestation from said legal eagle, I sat to one side whilst they saw other clients, I typed the change, they gave it the thumbs up and then the rest of the day was spent finding a place to print out the new copy, waiting for the government offices to open after lunch, and finally submitting the altered papers. Next week we get a phone call. They need to change one word. I need to go to Nairobi to do it… and so it goes on.

We will play this game with them but in the meantime I am going to start up a Community Based Organisation (CBO) through which I can change my visa status and begin operating here. The CBO is able to be processed here in Mombasa and has limited scope but enough for what we require. It only needs ten members from the local community (effectively the Parent / Teacher association we would have started at the school) and the approval of the Chief and Social Services Office in Mombasa. Hopefully in two weeks we will be up and running.

Apart from the above, my time so far has been spent finding somewhere to live and settling in. Meeting lots of people who may or may not be of assistance going forward, visiting the children in Bamburi, and also visiting as many existing projects as I can to make contacts, gain exposure to people who are established here and find out what works and what makes it harder.

It was on a visit to one of these projects that I met Mary.

Ignorance Kills
I was walking through a village, a slum. No water, no power, no sanitation. The locals were kind enough to allow me into their houses. Mud walls, one room, a single dirty, rotting mattress, a mother and seven children, a plague of flies inside the house. The same scene repeated everywhere I went. This is all they know and all they may ever know. A team of medical people were driving out of the village as I arrived and I asked my host what was going on. Cholera outbreak, they said. They lost one child from the school two days earlier and the parents are still in hospital.

At one house my host wanted me to meet a little girl called Mary. Her mother led Mary out of the house and as I knelt down to meet her at eye level, there was little to suggest she was alive apart from the fact she was standing upright and the slight increase in the pressure on my hand as I took hers. Mary made no sound and I could see no recognition in her eyes, just an empty stare. Her skin hung so loosely it seemed to be falling off her bones and you could tell her hair was dying. She was suffering a bad rash all over her body. I guessed she was around three years old. Seven, said her mother. Mary already looked like death to me and I can’t explain how completely useless I felt at not being able to do anything to help her. I’m not a doctor and have no ability to diagnose an illness, but I really thought she would probably die soon.

I left that place deeply affected by my visit, but mostly just feeling sad for Mary. I could not imagine how she must have been feeling herself.

The parents in the slums have no idea about what medical help may be available at the public hospital (there is only one here in Mombasa, the rest are private and well out of the financial reach of the majority of the population). At home that night I pondered the name of our charity and decided to take a nurse I know here to visit Mary. Severe malnutrition was the diagnosis. Mary had been to the hospital and the mother was in possession of a report that indicated Mary needed to be put immediately on a nutrition program at the hospital.

The mother did not know this, can’t read, didn’t understand when told (if told) at the hospital. Ignorance kills.

Thankfully I had access to someone who cared enough to accompany me to the village to check on Mary. We went and bought some milk, porridge and sugar; some medicine as advised by the nurse. We instructed the mother, and an accompanying teacher from the village, on how to administer the food and drugs and what to do about the nutrition clinic. I will check on Mary again later this week. There was also a mother in the village whose child is suffering from cerebral palsy. The boy was seven. The mother didn’t even know there was a charitable hospital less than a few miles away where her son could gain access to the sort of specialized care he required. Seven years just suffering in a village where no-one understood or questioned his problem.

Small Beginnings
I have also been working on a small school and orphanage project that we want to start with whilst we wait for the NGO registration and the land purchase. I have been seeking individual sponsorships and have a house, children and teachers all ready to begin. It needs to be run under the umbrella of some form of organisation so I will use the CBO I mentioned earlier populated by members from within the Bamburi community. We have been meeting various interested parties during the past week and should be ready to submit the forms next week.

Land Ahoy!
A large part of my time thus far has been spent looking for a suitable plot of land upon which to develop our project. I think I have now visited every inch of vacant ground there is in and around Bamburi. I have a slight problem though, well, it’s a rather large one as it happens and it involves pirates. Yes, think Captain Jack Sparrow and that’s the kind I am talking about (maybe not so much rum).

When I was in Mombasa in 2008 I had a decent idea about the price of land and what to expect. In the year following there has been an increasing number of Somali’s investing in land in Nairobi and Mombasa. In fact it’s a bit like a plague if you believe the locals. Guess where they got their money from? Ever wondered what the pirates do with their ill gotten gains? Well, I can tell you. They’ve pushed up the prices of land in the area by three and local land owners are rejoicing. The locals who hoped one day to own a plot big enough to build their
own home upon are not.

We are currently in negotiations over a plot that I feel is ideal, in fact we have agreement on favourable terms. I just need to do some sums and seek advice from our board on whether to proceed. I shall keep you informed.

Tales of a white man’s wonderings in and around Mombasa.

Who Dares Wins
I had forgotten what it feels like. Every journey in a matatu (the main form of public transport here) contains at least half a dozen “I am going to die now!” moments. You have to learn to NOT watch the driver or look through the front window. Look sideways; fiddle with your mobile, close your eyes.

The matatu business is highly competitive with drivers having a set daily target to collect for the matatu owner, anything above that is theirs to keep. Watching them compete with one another brings to mind the famed motto of the SAS. The Highway Code disappears out of the window as speeds are reached and chances taken that are generally only observed around a Formula 1 track on race day. They also take things very personally, so when affronted by another driver who has maybe cut them off, it becomes a personal duel to extract matatu
revenge by getting to the next intersection first. The driver enters a zone and they completely forget their payload as passengers slide across seats, bang heads and share distraught looks whilst we await the outcome.

Maybe Mombasa needs a Formula 1 track, but then the matatu rides might not be so much fun!

Do not walk at night except in a Vehicle
I have yet to attempt the security advice offered by the hotel I stayed in when I first arrived in Mombasa, but if I get the opportunity I’ll let you know how it goes. I actually feel quite safe here, just as I did last visit. Crossing the road contains more potential dangers than walking the main streets at night, though like any city anywhere in the world, you need to be sensible. Not much seems to have changed at all in the past twelve months, though the owners of a few businesses I speak to on Moi Avenue complain of additional costly government regulations and a general downturn in both local and tourist trade.

Do not step in the Well
Whilst looking at a block of land one day I noticed a large round hole in the ground. Most people in the area we will work get their water from wells. Wide, deep holes, sunk into the water table to provide life giving sustenance for a community that has no plumbing. In the midday sun I looked into the hole but could not see the bottom. It was about ten feet across. The frightening part was that the concrete wall surrounding it protruded only six inches above the ground. This well, in an open and untamed field, had more than an air of danger about it. It was only a few meters off an obvious path through the field, but in a place with no lighting and pedestrian traffic all hours, how dangerous is this? One of my ATD partners here lost a friend who after a few drinks one night had stumbled into such a place. I can easily imagine children lost in the excitement of play, or someone such as me, unawares, in the dark… I don’t want to think about it. The well is sunk so deeply, why stop building up the sides once you reach the top, another three feet wouldn’t have cost much more and would provide adequate safety. Like so many of my questions over here, it is a simple, unanswered, why?

Into The Valley
On a recent trip to Nairobi I managed to get up to the Rift Valley for a peek. I was impressed. I also saw Kenyans rugged up against the cold as the temperature 8000 feet up on the rim of the valley is considerably less than the usual Mombasa heat. We drove down into the valley and had all in all quite an eventful day. You may recall some time back a TV program, the name of which escapes me, about a group of Aboriginals and their car troubles and the various methods they used to keep the corpse of a vehicle functioning.

Our car troubles reminded me of that program. In no particular order, we had to make stops to weld the exhaust back on, change a flat tire that I had been worried about all day as it was balder than Telly Savalas, and constantly use a pair of pliers to open the only back seat passenger door that would budge. This became quite a drama as we were sightseeing and therefore stopping frequently and, as you do, closing the door behind us every time. It was a major hassle to reopen and the call went up throughout the day “whose got the magic key” as it became known.

We concluded the day by running a road block, which was kind of exciting in an “I’m in the movies” kind of way, but it then took us 20 minutes to convince Mr. Plod of our innocence. Here is what happened. Everyone in the car agreed that the first signal the policeman gave was to wave us through. It was dark but we could see the spikes lined across the road and the universal signal (or so we thought) with the shake of a torch that says proceed. Then, and I swear I saw the moment his facial expression changed, he suddenly started to wave frantically as we all expressed divergent opinions as to what the new signal was communicating ranging from “he wants us to speed up” to “I think we’re all under arrest”. What I think made his face change was that he saw a mzungu in the drivers’ seat… with no steering wheel. Somehow our driver for the day had scored himself a car with the steering wheel on the American side.

You need to see the church the Italians built”. My hosts were animated as they spoke about this small chapel that had been so inappropriately erected half way down the escarpment into the Rift Valley. Yes, the Italians built it they assured me. I was puzzled as I was quite sure they never had a presence here, Arabs, Portuguese, British, but no Italians. I was certain. This I had to see. Sure enough, the Italians DID build the chapel, the plaque on the side of the church said so. It was dated 1942. I explained to my hosts what the POW at the end
of the plaque was referring to.

Guinness
I recently visited a project where they were trying to develop some sustainable practices. The director took me to see a small plot where they were growing some beans and green vegetables. They also had a water pump a volunteer had purchased but was temporarily out of order. The land owner lived nearby and oversaw all the different plots that were happening there (others were growing on their rented plots and the water pump could be used by all for a small fee). The land owner wore no shirt and although in his face he looked much older than I, his upper body would have put a certain Californian governor to shame, and I bet this guy didn’t use any steroids. I was a little embarrassed as I couldn’t take my eyes of his perfectly toned and muscled torso.

He had enormous biceps! He spoke no English and so we communicated through smiles and the project director. I was invited to sit on a bench hewn out of a fallen trunk and was introduced to his family who all sat around passing the time. After a while Mr. Muscle picked up his machete and in less time than it took me to blink, disappeared 40 feet up a coconut tree. “That’s for you” said the director. Down came six coconuts in quick succession and whilst I was being afraid of heights on behalf of our host, he effortlessly slid to the ground
and got to work on the husk. A minute later he stood before me, with a drinking hole chiseled into the top, held out the coconut, and with an ear to ear grin he announced, “Guinness”.

It’s raining serious rain
March heralds the beginning of the heavy rains here, usually lasting a couple of months. They’ve started and the slight cooling of the temperature they bring is like a welcome guest. Hopefully this will also ease the water shortage problem that Mombasa seems to be experiencing at the moment. Like when the power goes off (all too regular) no-one really understands why it is so. Back in Australia we would demand answers and solutions from our government; here no-one seems to know who to ask. The house I live at regularly fills our own water tanks by special delivery because there isn’t any coming in through the pipes supplied by the municipal council.

Water restrictions only work when you’ve got water to restrict.

Arriving

ACTION THIS DAY founder, Brian McIver, is returning to Mombasa in early January to begin the work there. The land we had hoped to aquire is no longer available so finding a new location is a priority. Before that can happen though, there are a few practical steps to take, like finding somewhere to live and getting mobile communications happening. Fortuntely, our guys on the ground there, Samuel and Edward, have been very busy of late and I hope to be settled into my own accommodation within weeks.

NGO Registration

Next up we have to get the charity registered in Kenya. Again, much of the ground work has been done, but we need to process the application and at the same time bring our Kenyan board together and start working as a team. Priorities need to be established, responsibilities assigned, the project plan understood, and we need to begin making contact with the many Kenyan government bodies and other agencies that we will work with there.

Land Search

Our Kenyan partners have been working hard these past months and have located a number of blocks of suitable size to review on arrival. We have also prepared a couple of detailed quotes for the actual building project. If the land is suitable then we currently have enough in the bank to purchase a block. Building will then progress as funding allows.

The Children

For Brian, the initial highlight of returning will be visiting the children he taught in 2008 and re-estabishing contact with the community in Bamburi. Whilst he has been able to get updates on a few of the children throughout 2009, for most their current situation remains unknown and he cannot wait to see them again.

ACTION THIS DAY UK

Brian recently visited the UK and Ireland to share the vision of ACTION THIS DAY with past Bamburi volunteers and to hear about their experiences there. One of the outcomes of that visit is a plan to start a branch of the charity in the UK. There are many past volunteers from that part of the world who want to share in our goal of providing education, health care and security for the children in Bamburi. We hope the UK branch will provide a focal point to harness that support through volunteering and fundraising. These folks have all been to Bamburi and therefore have a special commitment and an understanding of all we face there.