Soar Kenya

“Can’t find the proper words to express our joy at the H.J.A, got enough sleeping pads now.An early x-mas gift for us,long live Soar-Kenya.”Marium

Thankyou Ruth for bringing this project to Soar-Kenya’s attention. We are happy to be able to send a donation to help. Ruth has been communicating with Vicki for more then a year now and finally we have some support for her. Thanks to everyone who attended the banquet.Following is the letter.
This is from the principal of the Catholic School in the Kibera Slums of Niarobi that I wanted to work with. Vikki is a retired principal from the state of Oregon who is working now with the Maryknoll Missionaries in Kenya.

This is from her latest email and also where to send the money to:
– “As to your offer in this email, I am trying to collect some money to purchase the materials for new mattresses, about 70, for our nursery students. The ones we have are so bad I am ashamed for people to see them. We are trying something new rather than buying the ones available that don’t last. Our Living Waters Voc School will sew them. We are planning on purchasing the foam rubber and then a waterproof, durable plastic-like material to make a cover and they will do the sewing for a small fee. Thus, it adds income to the parish (who runs the school and for which I coordinate), and we get mattresses we can keep clean and can be stored easily. Anyway, that’s whats in the works now.

To send the donation, you can simply write a check and mail it to my home bank account and my friend who handles my finances will deposit it. I check on-line to keep up with my funds. Then, I just ATM the money and get it in Kenyan shillings. That is the easiest way. Vikki Smith, 790 Rafael St., N., Salem, OR 97303.”

It is my hope summer is taking you well. I’m doing fine over here. Working hard to improve whatever I can in a small way.

I take this opportunity to inform you of what I have been up to recently.

My choir participated in the recently ended Kenya Music and Cultural Festivals that were held in the coastal town of Mombasa . Most of the events took place in the Agha Khan Hall, a few meters away from Indian Ocean . It was a nice experience. We won in most of the classes that we took part in. We came in the 2^nd position in two classes and 3^rd position in one class. It was a good overall performance. I had the chance to experience art in its best form. I saw exceptionally talented young people doing extraordinary things. I loved it and wished that I could enjoy more of that beautiful Godly endowment.  But it all ended so fast. And I suffered some beautiful sunburns J

My holiday is coming to and end. This is the last week I have out of school. Freshmen start reporting and doing their registration this week. Their orientation will be carried out this week too. Next week, starting Monday the 24^th day of August, we report back and learning starts as from Wednesday the 26^th. The first semester of each academic year is always a busy one. It is one semester that one has to be keen enough so as not to be bypassed by the wave of many events. It is usually tricky as such because most people come from a world of no lectures and straight to the lecture rooms after a long holiday.

 I am reporting, hopefully, as a third year student. What an excitement this is. I can’t believe it has been two years of study already.  And all this has been made possible by God and SOAR-KENYA. I’m grateful to this great group of philanthropic, kind and affectionate people. You all go more than that extra mile to make a positive difference in people’s lives. A positive difference even when there is so little towards positivity. Being able to get through my first two years of university is something I take with great humility.  Mary Hoffman, I have great respect and love and admiration for you and Don (he is a great man- tell him I said so). You are such a congenial and sociable person. I am yet to meet a person of your great candor and love. I have learnt many virtues from you and I continue to do so to this day. From you I have learnt that problems that affect others affect me as an individual and therefore I’m concerned, because problems are transboundary! I have learnt the importance of empathy and compassion from you. Before this, I only thought of it as a biblical concept not applicable in the modern world. I may not have the proper words to express this, but I want you to know that I am and will always be indebted to you in a big way.. And I hope you’ll one day be able to tell me how I could try and pay a tiny fraction of it, because paying it in full is inconceivable. May God bless you and your family; and may He protect you from all evils.

Ruth, I know that you put a lot of your resources in making things as they are in SOAR-KENYA. Your composed, gracious nature is admirable. Your strength of mind and fortitude to accomplish what lay ahead of you is to any keen person. Your love for what is good and your desire to make things better for others is a rare virtue. I learnt a lot from you when you were here and you inspired me in a way to be a better person. I appreciate all this with the utmost sincerity. May God bless you. Pass my regards to sir Steve.

I know that there are countless individuals who in their own ways contribute towards financing my studies (and indeed of my other friends and alleviating suffering of my fellow citizens) through SOAR-KENYA. I cannot forget your immense love, sacrifices and bigheartedness of another higher order that you continue to employ each day in support of SOAR-KENYA. As a beneficiary of your benevolence and philanthropy, I am full of gratitude and humbled by your kind deeds. May all of you find joy and inner peace in your lives. Be blessed abundantly.

   by Mary Anne Hoff

I’d never wanted to go to Kenya. Paris? Yes. London? Every chance I got. Peru and Costa Rica? Yes. The Greek Isles? Yes. Kenya? It had never crossed my mind to go to Kenya.

Last August, I had to search for Kenya on a map of Africa. So, I surprised myself when I said “Yes, I’ll go.” I would travel with two other women from Soar-Kenya, a non-profit group founded in Wisconsin by Don Hoffman who had been a Peace Corp volunteer in Kenya. Later one of the others decided not to go, and I wavered.

On October 3rd, the British Airways 737 taxied to the terminal, and we stepped into the hot, steamy Nairobi night. I didn’t know anyone in any direction for thousands of miles.  

Some where in the crowd of black and chocolate and caramel faces were two people—Vitalice and Nelly, the founders of Hopewell School—waiting for us. Next thing I knew, I was being hugged and kissed on both cheeks like in Lyon, France. This was going to be okay, as civilized as Lyon. 

Our driver packed us into a car and sped toward our hotel. Not everything was strange. Coca Cola, Barclays, Exxon, and other signs announced that Americans had been here, and this was planet Earth.  

Around midnight, I stretched out for a blessed sleep, the kind of sleep that only comes after seventeen hours in an airplane. Then, suddenly, I’m awake. What is that sound? Dawn is beginning outside the window where a male voice fills the entire world. He pauses; I hear a rooster crow. From the bed at the far side of the room, Nelly says, “The mosque is next door. He’s praying. It’s the first day of Ramadan.” I lie on my back and stare at the ceiling and wonder why there’s a rooster in the middle of Nairobi, in the Westlands, an upscale neighborhood in Nairobi.         

“Will he pray very long?” I finally ask. No answer; Nelly sleeps.

The next day I’m trying to stay awake as Mr. Doshi thanks us for the “pads.” I assume he’s talking about pads of paper. We’re sitting in his conference room on the thirteenth—maybe it was the nineteenth– floor of one of Nairobi’s skyscrapers. We’ve been served Coca Cola by his attendant whose only duty seems to be to make guests comfortable. How civilized.  

Mr. Doshi says, “I had to buy panties for the girls. They don’t wear panties.” Suddenly I’m wide awake. What is this about? He passes around a package containing three white cotton panties, so we can see their merits. “The pads are locked in a warehouse and guarded.  Your school will need to have security or the pads will be stolen.” Vitalice nods. I’m uncomfortable. I wonder what females use when they don’t have access to sanitary pads. Throughout the month, I bounce between thinking this Kenya is a civilized country to thinking it is uncivilized.

Mr. Doshi continues, “And now the girls do not have to miss school. Missing school put them behind, you know. So, thank you, thank you.” He’s a dear man, probably about 80 years old, gracious and smart and kind. (Wrestling the World needs most of the credit for supplying sanitary pads.)

It’s been months since I left Kenya. I’ll be weeding my garden or washing dishes or driving into town or dreaming in my sleep and once again I’m in Kenya.  

I’m listening to the speakers at Founders Day and smelling the stew that actually has meat in it. Some one donated a bull. That reminds me of “barassa” and I smile. Sometimes on a Friday, at 2 p.m. Kenyan time, I imagine Vitalice and Calvin, the student leader, waiting under the big tree at Hopewell School.  

Hopewell School is a school equivalent to our high schools. Barassa is one of Vitalice’  management tools. Every Friday afternoon, each student comes carrying a metal chair. Vitalice and Calvin face the 600 students.

Vitalice calls barassa “the safety valve”—a time for students to lodge complaints, complaints that either Vitalice, Mr. Kahunda to this crowd of young people, or Calvin will resolve. It seems so civilized, so sensible to have a student leader chosen by the faculty. I think back to my years of teaching high school and wonder what effects “barassa” would have had at the schools where I taught.

Vitalice stands, “Who’s first?”

The first problem involves a new student who paid 25 cents for a locker but then holds up a metal chair with a big hole in the wooden seat. Laughter moves through the crowd. Not every student has a “locker,” a metal box attached to the underside of a chair. Most of Hopewell’s students are orphans and all are poor. They work in the nearby quarry or on farms to earn the $21 to attend Hopewell. If they can’t pay, they’re happy to help the school in some way. Many of them work in the school’s fields where vegetables grow for the daily lunch. Lunch is the only meal many of these students have every twenty-four hours. But many students who do have the fees also work in the fields. Imagine students hoeing and weeding, seeding and harvesting their food.   

“CAL-VIN,” Vitalice stresses both syllables. Calvin will resolve the “locker” problem.

 Voices scatter on the breeze making it difficult to hear. I think of the theaters, gyms, auditoriums, and libraries with microphones in our American schools. What if it had rained? Would barassa have been canceled? I doubt it.

The next problem is a serious charge of unfairness by a teacher. Vitalice stands, “Anyone else having this problem?” About five hands go up. “I’ll investigate.” Vitalice sits; he whispers to me, “Because a teacher is involved, I’ll check it out.”

“Next,” Vitalice calls out.A young man suggests that the cow donated to the school for the Founders’ Day stew be kept alive and milked. A murmur of approval comes from the crowd. I hear a student say, “Milk would taste good.”

Vitalice stands. “It’s a bull . . . a male. It can’t be milked.” Everyone laughs. Now you understand why I smile when I smell the stew cooking in the kitchen.  

The “kitchen” has a dirt floor, a tin roof, two cooks, and three huge iron pots that hang over wood fires. At 6 a.m., the cooks are the first to arrive at Hopewell’s gate. The security guard lets them in to peel onions and carrots, wash kale and tomatoes with the clean water from the Hopewell well . . . possibly Hopewell’s most treasured asset, donated by  the Rotarians. People throughout Barut, the slum where Hopewell School is located, walk miles to get water at the well.

Rail-thin men come on bicycles loaded with three to five yellow plastic vats. They stand on the pedals and off they go with the water-filled vats strapped to the bicycle—one on the bicycle seat– and possibly one on their back. Rail-thin women in thin cotton dresses come and leave with a container of water balanced on their head; they carry a second one  and most likely a sleeping infant in a sling made from tying a scarf around their necks and waists.   

Hopewell also has electricity in the administrative building, the 14×10 foot tin-sided building where tree-trunks are used for 2×4s. Other luxuries are a cement floor, plywood partitions, and a door on the office where Vitalice and Nelly each have a desk, a real wooden desk like my teachers had in our country school. The office has one window, no glass.        

Founders Day is a big deal and rain has delayed it for several hours. No one minds. No one worries or tries to get a weather report. No angst. No stress. A church has brought a speaker system, a keyboard, and several ministers. Most of the students have gathered, once again carrying their chairs. They visit in small groups while they wait in the drizzle, red sweaters over their heads.

Hopewell students wear a uniform: navy blue trousers or straight skirts, pale blue shirts or blouses, and a red sweater. The males wear striped red ties. These are the only clothes many students own.

A lot of people know how to play the keyboard. Male students take turns break dancing. Their classmates cheer and clap.  Small groups sing. Names are called out, and a classmate makes his or her way to the front to perform.  Obviously these young people know each other’s talents and skills. I wander over and hang at the edge of the group. But shortly, a student taps my shoulder and escorts me to a chair in the front row in time to see a group of teachers—many are Hopewell graduates—sing amid much laughing and clapping. The students love this performance.

The rain does stop, and the planned program begins. Many people make speeches: the president of the PTO, the chief of Nakuru, several people running for office in the coming elections. A pastor gives a sermon. Students from the state’s primary school down the road sing and dance and play native drums. The “wee” ones from the care center that Hopewell sponsors steal the show with their singing and dancing. Awards are given: for the best overall student, the best students in math and science, the best groomed student and so forth. It feels familiar; it is similar to what we do in our schools in the U.S.

I notice many of the little gifts we brought are the “awards.” Soar-Kenya t-shirts, battery less flashlights, blank books, pens and pencils. The best overall student receives $25. The crowd gasps. It’s a small fortune. The receiver grins. Vitalice, who wears a Kenyan tunic, speaks. Nelly in her robin-egg-blue suit speaks. My stomach growls: the aroma of the simmering stew drifts past continually. Later Vitalice tells me they have served nearly 1000 people. Amazing.

But still more amazing are the scholarship students who have come. Soar-Kenya provides scholarships for three of Hopewell’s last-year graduates: Daniel, Martin, and Alice.  Daniel studies computer technology. Martin, who is considering the priesthood, studies at a university in western Kenya. Alice is becoming a nurse. These students believe themselves to be the most fortunate people on earth. In their opinion, they won the lottery, caught the bride’s bouquet, successfully played the wheel of fortune.  If Kenya can educate young people like these three, it will resolve its problems, end corruption, and give many citizens the futures they deserve.

The sun is low in the sky, and Alice has passed word that all females should gather. She has learned how to examine breasts for cancer and doesn’t hesitate to show us. She has asked Nelly and me to sit in front of the crowd and dutifully follow her instructions. We search our breasts for “lumps that don’t move.” Of course it is hilarious, but Alice reminds us the practice is necessary.

If I thought examining my breasts in front of some 300 young females was my final act of the day, I was wrong. We have come up one Soar-Kenya T-shirt short. Daniel and Martin are wearing theirs. Alice doesn’t have one. And I’m wearing mine, the one I shortened and added under-the-arm security pockets to. Soon, I find myself in the “office” where a number of males and Vitalice are talking. Will they notice a woman removing her T-shirt over in the corner?  I hand it to Alice who puts it on, and I quickly don my rain jacket. All is well.

If a fairy godmother came and granted me one wish, I would wish for funds for Hopewell. . . enough funds to provide student loans for all the Form 4 students. If a student did not do well enough on the tests– which last for three weeks and the only one I could pass was the English test–to study at a college or training school, he or she would receive money to start a small business, for example a used clothing stall in Nakuru.

I’m researching foundations, writing letters of inquiry, learning to write grants—all in an effort to obtain student loans for the next four to five years. The students will pay back the money, so the fund will become self-sustaining. And Mr. Doshi and the Nairobi Rotary Club will match our funds.  

And if I had two wishes, I’d also ask for beds. Some 160 girls are safe in dorms (recently converted from two tin-sided classrooms). They will gladly sleep on the floor until beds are available. Females are always at risk in a third-world country, but the violence following the presidential election escalated the danger. They risk rape and female genital mutilation (FGM). Many of the girls walk long distances to and from school in total darkness on isolated paths. They work like slaves in exchange for a place to sleep and something to eat. Even their sleeping place may not be entirely safe. Vitalice and Nelly reshuffled Hopewell’s priorities and built the dorm. And as soon as they figure out how to build more dorms, they will.

I learned a lot in Kenya–from Mr. Doshi and Vitalice and Nelly and the young people. From Mr. Doshi I learned to ask “What do you most need?”  I heard him ask Nelly and Vitalice, and I heard them simultaneously answer, “student loans.” They could have listed so many things: chalk, a copier, paper, uniforms. I learned: never assume to know what people in the third world need; ask.

From the twelve students I accompanied to Nakuru National Park one glorious Sunday (and that is another story), I learned, “Right now, right here is where I want to be.” They don’t wander around in the past; they don’t daydream about the future. The present, this moment is all they really have, so they live it well. I try to remember to live in the present and to live it well.

It’s 9:34 p.m. in Kenya. I hope they are all safe. I hope they all had something to eat today. I hope they are healthy. I know they laughed. I know they learned. And if a white person visited their school today, they asked endless questions and felt his or her hair and wanted their picture taken with the “pink” person.

For those of you who think you can’t make a difference:
Calvin wrote to H.O.P.E.  a couple of years ago after reading an article in the Kenyan Standard.  He was living near Eldoret with a guardian, who was not able to continue sending him to high school.  I(Darleen Johnson) e-mailed him back, and told him that if he could get to Nakuru, there was a free high school (Hopewell), and perhaps he could work out a work/study program or something there.  He got there, and I had already talked to Vitalice Kahendah, who told me that they had over 100 kids who had arrived at their door, willing to sleep outside if they could just enroll in high school.  The school had rented a building, where they supply a foam mat, running (cold) water, and two meals per day for whatever they can pay.  In Calvin’s case, Vitalice said he would supply a uniform, the text books Calvin would need, room and board for $100 per term.  I agreed to pay for at least one term to see how Calvin would do.
At first, Calviin struggled in all his classes.  At last, he graduated 4th in his class.  He made remarkable progress, and he was worth every dime we spent on him.  He earned it, because he was given a chance.  I am very proud of Calvin, who has become a good friend.
Here is his thank you letter to us.

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Hallo Darleen

        How are you doing I hope all is well with you, for me I am doing fine. I hope at the moment you are fully recovered and you are strong enough to do all the best for Hopewell.  The schools are closed; I am through with my exams. The exam was fair and I hope to pass.

       Thank you very much from the bottom of my heart for this great support. Darleen you have done a great thing in my life that I can’t ever forget. You gave me hope when I had no hope of going on with my education. May the Lord bless you very much. Maybe there is nothing I can award you for what you have done but please accept my thanks and appreciation because it sincerely comes from my heart.

        I would also like to thank you for your continued support towards Kenyan schools and orphanages. May this kind of heart grow big and bigger and may the Lord always supply to you so that you may have much to give.

        

I would also like to thank you for your support in building Hopewell latrine; the new latrine is just wonderful it will be of great use to the next year’s students. I would also thank you for all that you have done.

     My guardian also appreciates for all that you have done for me. He also told me to pass many greetings to you and your family.

     I humbly ask you to let me know of any plan you have for me. I also would like to pass my greetings to Johnson and tell him that I am through with my high school education and also pass my thanks to him.

        May the Lord bless you in all that you do and I hope to hear from you. Pass my greetings to your family at large.

               Have a wonderful time

                  From Calvin.

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Dear Mary & Don

How are our great friends doing? Don,how is sweet grandma doing? I saw her picture this evening on the school bulletin board and remembered grandma’s garden and that was the chat we had with Nelly all the way home.Nelly cant wait to have mum Mary here in Kenya.We are all doing fine at Hopewell.School is a little bit busy now that the rest of the students are all doing end-year exams which enable them to graduate to the next class next year. The copy machine you bought the school is doing us a lot of justice and the quality is extremely good.

We will all be praying for a successful fundraising on 18th. You can however send what is already there so that we pay the timber supplier a downpayment which will make him have timber available when we need it.Any amount for him will do.

You suggestion on internet connection and electricty in the new library sounds great.The only limitation will come to funds.I will have Robert the contractor on site do a quotation for electricity installation and another friend do a simple quote for internet then we hope and pray for the best………….probably you even winning a million dollars in a lottery! Just teasing.

Both Nelly and I thought that the idea of lumber donation was great and most timely.Infact it was a pleasant surprise for me when I met them at a cyber that morning.My only concern was the cost of shipping and that’s when Maryane’s suggestion of comparing prices around for the same lumber came in and it was that good.We both didnt feel insulted and we have had a perfect working relationship with you all and hope to continue having your trust by working smartly and honestly.

Be blessed.Pass my warmest regards to your most kind family whic is awesomely supportive of your charity work.

VITALICE