Kristina's Kenyan Chonicles

A whole new world

2010-03-27T11:26:00.000+01:00

"Are you sure you've remembered the cerfiki... ferkisit... certificates?" (Jacob, 10)
Two weeks of preparations, butterflies and saying goodbye to the streets of Eldoretwere over, and my seven "kids" were ready to head for a whole new reality in Gardens Children's Home, Kawangware, Nairobi.

After a night on a crowded Matunda bus (with a driver who I am quite sure was either drunk or high on miraa), we arrived in Nairobi at 5 o'clock in the morning. From there, the journey went on to Kawangware. We were warmly welcomed at the home, and within few hours my boys had settled in and made several friends. "By tomorrow they will all be in class," the pastor of the home ensured me.

I stayed with them untill the next day and then went back to Kasarani. A few tears escaped me as I waved goodbye to Kevin, Michael, Kim, Ken, Jacob, Simon and John from the matatu. We have really become like a family, and it was hard to leave them behind. Yet I knew and trusted that they would be safe and happy at Gardens.

Two days later I found myself in town with Anthony, waiting for the pastor to arrive together with the seven of them. Finally the kids got to see the capitol with their own eyes. We visited the parliament building, Kenyatta's grave and Uhuru Park.

I can assure you, if you had met me in town together with the guys, you would not have guessed that less than a week ago, their reality still consisted of begging, cold, violence and drugs. Seeing my boys and the progress they are making in short time gives me hope. It teaches me that the street children that I see on the streets of Kenya are only one hug away from being like all other children.

"I don't know when my birthday is. My birthday, Kristina, will be the day you come back to Kenya"
(Kevin, 13)

"Stuck in traffic" reflections

2010-03-25T18:52:00.000+01:00

For some strange reason, this was written on a bus I saw in town today:
"co·zy /ˈkoʊzi/ [koh-zee]: snugly warm and comfortable, protected from unpleasantness".

Among us "exchange junkies" it's a well known fact that one is not truly Norwegian untill he or she understands the meaning of "koselig" or "cozy". No one can "kose seg" like Norwegians. And surely, we are very well protected from unpleasantness.

At the sidewalk behind the bus I saw a man. Maybe 30 years old; his hands and feet were too deformed for him to even be able to walk. Deprived of the ability to work because of his handicap, he was begging on the street of Nairobi. The word "cozy" is so far from his reality, it probably has no meaning to him.

Soon I'll be back in "koselige" Norway. But I doubt whether I will be able to "kose meg" like I did before. Reason? After six months of knowing poverty, hunger, corruption, crime and drug abuse by name, I am no longer protected from unpleasantness.

But I thank God. I would prefer knowing what I know today over "cozyness" anytime

God is faithful

2010-03-12T18:49:00.000+01:00

Kim is 15 years old. He has five years of primary school education and speaks pretty fluent English, though he prefers to speak Kiswahili. He is usually a bit quiet, but when he feels at home and comfortable he opens up and you come to realize he has an amazing sense of humour. Kim is somehow serious and doesn't like to be made fun of. He is very responsible and sees to it that everyone does what they're supposed to.

(Kim)

Ken is 12 years old. He made it to finish class 2 before he came to the streets. Ken is not particularly loud, but very talkertive. In spite of the harsh life he has been exposed to he still has the smile and the innocent eyes of a child. He has a head for mathematics and usually asks me to make some math exercises for him. Recently he took up the habit of sniffing glue, but he makes sure to leave the container in town when he comes this side.

(Ken)

Michael is 15 years old. He studied untill class 5 before his family decided they couldn't sustain him anymore and he came to the streets of Eldoret. Michael is very outgoing, talkertive and always in a good mood. He knows how to use his talking skills to obtain what he wants, and to get himself out of trouble. He is said by the rest of the group to be very emotional when drunk, though luckily I have never seen that side of him.

(Michael to the right)

John is 10 years old and goes by the name of "Kwa nusu". Despite of his young age he is very bright and mature. John has finished class 2. Because of being the smallest of the group he has also been nicknamed "Kashorty".

(John)

Simo is 12 years old and has finished class 2. He has a remarkable ability of making sure he always leaves our house with a new piece of clothing. Simo has an interesting fascination for the cosmetics that Carol and I use, and you might just find him covered in foundation and powder if you stop by. Let's hope it's just a phase.

(Simon)

Jacob is 12 years old and has studied untill class 3. "But I don't know how to read or anything," he says. "I only went to school to get free porridge". Jacob is obsessed with cleaning, and will not sit down for a moment when he comes to our house. You will find him washing dishes, mopping the floor and if you try to intervene he'll throw a fit.

(Jacob)

Kevin is 13 years old and has finished class 4. He is the definite leader of the group, exercising that role with great justice and authority. Kevin is outgoing, talkertive and very perceptive. He wants to be an artist when he grows up, and is already a very talented dancer. Kevin is very proud, and will never result to begging like some other street children. In stead, he works at parking lots, helping cars to park for a few shillings.

(Kevin)

From Monday 22nd of March, these seven remarkable kids will no longer belong to the street. They have been accepted to a children's home in Nairobi and will begin a whole new chapter in their lives. Sidewalks will be replaced by bunkbeds, hustling by schooling, cold and loneliness by warmth and care. These children will once again be kids.

Join me in praising God for His eternal faithfulness. He has heard my prayers, seen these seven lives going to waste and found a way out. Truly, God sees every one of us, and He answers our cries. Today I am happier than I have ever been, for today I know that God will never let me down.

He is good.

Psalm of the day

2010-02-25T15:45:00.001+01:00

This psalm is to be found in the book that we use for staff praise and worship.

Lord, I was blind! I could not see

In Thy marred visage any grace.

But now the beauty of Thy face

In radiant vision dawns on me.

Lord, I was deaf! I could not hear

The thrilling music of Thy voice.

But now I hear Thee and rejoice

And all Thine uttered words are dear.

Lord, I was dumb! I could not speak

The grace and glory of Thy name.

But now, as touched with living flame

My lips Thine eager praises wake.

Lord, I was dead! I could not stir

My lifeless soul to come to Thee.

But now, since Thou has quickened me

I rise from sin's dark selpuchre.

For Thou hast made the blind to see,

The deaf to hear, the dumb to speak,

The dead to live; and lo, I break

The chains of my captivity.

A camel was suddenly not as interesting anymore.

2010-02-24T16:44:00.001+01:00

This blog post was supposed to be called "The day a camel escaped into Kamukunji", because untill 2 o'clock in the afternoon that was the most interesting thing that had happened today. At that particular time I was coming from town, and after paying a ridiculous amount of money in registration fee for the "Test Of English as a Foreign Language" I was pondering how to manage through the rest of the week with 200 shillings (15 NOK) left in my pocket.

(John, also called Nusu (=Half) and Simon)

As I turned the corner to get to my house a sight met me that was going to make my day a lot more interesting: 7 kids were sitting outside my front door, their shabby appearance far outweighed by the smiles on their faces.
- Kristina, we have come to visit! We have been waiting for you.

(The guys really went crazy with my camera.)

A moment later my house was filled to the breaking point of 10 to 15 year-olds exploring, playing on the computer, taking photos and doing every other thing that can be done in my tiny Kamukunji house. 70 out of my 200 shillings were spent on bread and tea to feed my hungry visitors.

("Do like Jackie Chan!!")

With the fun we were having we barely noticed that it was about to get dark. I asked the guys if they shouldn't be getting back "home" to town soon.
- Uhum... Yeah... was the only answer I got. Then Kevo, the non-formal leader of the group, found courage and told me what they were all thinking.
- We were kind of hoping we could spend the night here?

(Nusu and "Ndogo" (=small). Ndogo spent the evening washing dishes and cleaning up the house. When tried to ask him to sit down and rest he chased me away.)

So that is how Carol and I ended up hosting seven kids for a sleepover tonight. As night fell I wondered how I would make sure my guests would not be left hungry: I was still pennyless and the house did not have anything but a few tomatoes and some maize flour. I started making "uji" (maize flour porridge), apologizing for not having anything else to offer them.

(With a bit of creativity anything becomes a good motif, even a pen.)

As I was cooking the kids ran outside, and soon they came back with some small mandazi (doughnuts) and chips, bought with the few shillings they had brought along.
- Phew, at least they won't have to sleep hungry, I thought. And as my mother instincts were running overtime I decided I didn't care whether I would take supper myself. Then I heard Kevo calling my name.
- Kristina! Let's share my mandazi! That's what we do right? We help each other with what we have!
Soon all the kids were coming, each giving me part of the little food they had bought.

(A somehow stressed Kristina trying to make sure nothing it broken in the midst of the fun and games.)

As we shared this small meal, I was almost moved to tears. I thought to myself that this is what the family of God is all about. So many times I have helped people out financially and said "I know you will do the same thing back the day I am the one struggling". But to be honest I had never thought that day would come so soon. Having a street-kid sharing his supper with me so that I wouldn't sleep hungry, it really humbled me. And it reminded me once again that before God we are all equal: that there is no giving and receiving side in His kingdom. We all receive, and we are all to share of what we receive.

(It was a memorable night for all of us.)

And now, as I am writing this post looking at 7 boys sound asleep on mattresses on my floor, I can only thank God for all that He has given me: education, tons of experiences, the ability to travel around the world; and tonight He gave me seven little friends who helped me out in a rough situation.
Tonight psalm 14 makes sense: "Fools say in their heart: There is no God".

The photos are here!

2010-02-22T15:57:00.000+01:00

Finally I have found a way of transferring my photos! So here are a few pictures from my world in Eldoret. These photos are mainly of our everyday life; Christian Union photos will be coming soon.

This is the village of Kamukunji, my home untill the end of March. I have come to love the place a lot! The photo is taken from my favourite spot at Reflection Hill.

This is inside our plot, which is usually full of kids, chickens, cows and every other thing you can imagine.

My front door: the one you should be looking out for if you feel like stopping by for a visit.

This is the kitchen area, complete with a gas cooker, a sink and a shelf for storage.

This is the bedroom: Carol and I are taking turns in sleeping on the bed and the mattress.

This is the office, where I can be stuck for hours reading.

This is the dining area, which can hold a total of two people, or four if you get creative.

This is Luis, our neighbour. He usually stops by every so often, especially when we are cooking.

These are the guys from my last blog post: Job, Samuel, Wilson, and Ken asleep on the bed.

Job: 12 years old, really bright, makes really good ugali and has become a good friend of mine.

Ken fell asleep almost as soon as we reached Hillary's house. I guess it had been some time since he had such a soft surface to sleep on.

I invited Ken to visit our house yesterday, and ended up with 14 kids in our tiny, one-room house.

It was a bit crowded, but we all had a great time!

The kids had a blast listening to music and taking photos of one another.

More pictures will be coming.

A cup of tea, cartoons and a whole new perspective

2010-02-19T21:20:00.002+01:00

"Today, if you meet any street kid in town, you should invite him for a cup of tea." This was the first thought that passed my mind when I woke up this morning. Surely, sometimes God can be very specific.

And surely, almost the moment I reached town I was approached by one of the hundreds of boys who roam the streets of Eldoret, dressed in rags that you can just guess the original colour of, and with their bottle of glue faithfully installed on their upper lip. "Help me with a ten-bob for a cup of tea", he said, a phrase that I have heard from dosens of other children on dosens of other occations during my stay in Kenya.

But this child, and this occation, would turn out to be a bit different.

The next thing I knew, Carol and I found ourselves in a small restaurant, together with Samuel (that's his name) and his friend Wilson. As we took tea and mandazi, we listened to these 13 year-olds' stories of how their parents had passed away, leaving them homeless and without money for school fees. At the counter of the restaurant there was a small television, and the two kids soon fixed their attention on the "Scooby Doo" movie that was playing. I remembered how I used to love movies when I was their age, and asked myself how often these guys could be able to sit down, just relax and watch TV.

One thing led to another, and suddenly I found myself on the back of a motorbike, going together with these kids and two others who joined us along the way, to my friend Hillary's house to watch cartoons. We ended up spending the whole afternoon there, watching "Finding Nemo", having lunch, playing computer games, all those things that kids usually love doing.

"Do you use glue?" I asked one of the kids who joined us on the way. His name is Job, he is one of the most clever 12 year-olds I have ever met.
"Yeah," he said. "But not so much. I only use it at night, because if I don't I can't sleep."

9 year-old Ken had been asleep on Hillary's bed for almost the whole time. Now he was awake and I noticed he kept scratching his head, which was covered by some sort of white rash. "Mashilingi", he told me. Ringworms. My mother instincts were definitely taking over by this time. In lack of any proper medicine to give him, I pulled out the only thing I had - Nivea sunscreen - and applied a thick layer on his head. The smile he gave me afterwards told me it had been some time since he had experienced motherly concern, and it melted my heart through-and-through.

After an afternoon that was definitely out of the ordinary for all of us, it was time to part. Job and Ken escorted me to the bus stage, as is commons courtesy in Kenya. When I was getting into the matatu I asked Ken where he and Job were going next.
"I guess we'll start looking for something to eat for supper", he said. Then he gave me brave smile that shattered my heart to pieces. As we left for Kamukunji, the other passengers must have been curious to see the "their mzungu" in the back of the vehicle, struggling to hold back her tears.

Now it is 11 o'clock at night, and almost bed-time for Carol and me. But I'm wondering whether I'll get any sleep at all, knowing that Samuel, Wilson, Job and Ken are spending the night in the dangerous streets in town. That there is noone around to make sure they have food in their stomacks and that their clothes are clean, to care for them when they are sick or protect them when they get scared.

And that these four friends of mine are only a few of the hundreds of boys who roam the streets of Eldoret, dressed in rags that you can only guess the original colour of, with their bottle of glue faithfully installed on their upper lip.

(Today more than ever I wish I had the cable for my camera, because Job took some amazing photos today that I would have loved to share with you. Instead I guess I'll have to illustrate even another post with some impersonal photos taken from the internet.)

Life at its best:

2010-02-16T08:55:00.004+01:00

- To wake up in the morning, fetch water from the well and use it to take an ice cold bath.
- To walk for ten minutes to a river in order to fetch drinking water.
- To rush through the beautiful landscape of rural Kenya on the back of a motorbike.

(Finally I've been there, photo taken from the internet)

- To go for a swim in the crystal blue, crocodile-free lake behind Reflection Hill.
- To have everything from kids to hens running in and out of your house all day.
- To be greeted as "mkenya" and not "mzungu" at the town market.

(Public transport in rural Kenya, photo taken from the internet)

- To sing "Pamela come to God" with the children of Kamukunji, and pray with them for God to bless their families and their homes.
- To sit with an old lady on Reflection Hill, realizing that even if we don't speak the same language our Bibles say exactly the same.
- To see a young mother in the village come to realize that God loves her no matter what her past looks like.

(Any wonder why I love this country? Photo taken from the internet)

- To do all this, knowing that you are exactly where God wants you to be, and that without Him nothing of it would be possible.
Jeremiah 29:11

(By the way, I am sorry that I'm not able to post any of my own photos. The reason is that I clumsily have misplaced the cable for my camera. But photos will be coming... one day...)

The Mathare effect

2010-02-07T19:07:00.004+01:00

It has been said that many years ago someone received a vision from God about the Mathare. This someone saw a light; emerging from this infamous valley, spreading all over Nairobi, covering Kenya, travelling across Africa and reaching every corner of the world.

(Photo taken from the internet)

"How are you wamekuja, the howareyous have come!". After a 6 hour journey I found myself back in Mathare for a weekend visit. As I walked down Juja Road together with Audhild and Miriam, familiar faces kept turning up. For every "old" friend we ran into, greeted, hugged and talked with I realized a bit more to myself: this is home.

(Photo taken from the internet)

I have a hard time explaining exactly why Mathare means something to me that nothing else can. Of course I could make my life easy by saying that it's because of my wonderful friends there, the things I have gotten to experience and the hospitality that we have met. But that's not all. There is something that runs much deeper.

What is it that makes not only me, not only the four of us, not only Norwegians, but the world; love Mathare?

(Photo taken from the internet)

Now, you may not believe in visions. You may not even be a Christian. But everyone out there who has interacted with Mathare knows what I am talking about. Mathare is not the only place of its kind; it's not even the largest. Yet an Italian has given his blog the name "Mathare for life". Yet there is a man in Nevada testifying of how the place changed his life. Yet there are countless organizations all over the world working towards the growth and prosperity of this community and yet there is a 19 year-old Norwegian sitting in her home in Eldoret right now, trying to put into words emotions that are still to big for her to really understand.

(Photo from the internet)

But there is another girl who has been able to express what I am trying to say. The following poem was written by Phoebe, a Mathare resident, when she was 16 years old:

"People ask you where you come from!

They like you because you are pure and
you have what they lack.
Do you know what you have?

You are brave, strong and courageous.
You fight for your lives and strive for
your future.
The rich can't use money as their
weapons, so they need you to be their
warning sign.

They inspire you and always respect you.
Do you know what you have?

You should appreciate that you have
weakness.
Be proud that you are special.
Thank God that you have a big name
flying all over the world.

The big name "Mathare" that is what you have."

Doing bussiness in Eldoret

2010-01-22T19:53:00.001+01:00

(A Kenyan secondhand market, picture from the internet)

After days of "looking like a walkin' talkin' tomato" in the scorching sun of Eldoret, I decided it was time to take action. I went to the local supermarket for a sunscreen. I made my way to the cashier, only to find that this teeny-tiny bottle containing 200ml of Nivea sunscreen costed no less than HALF what Carol and I pay in rent per month! I was outraged. "How do these people expect ordinary Kenyans to afford that??". But then, wait, Kenyans obviously don't use sunscreen. The only ones who buy that stuff are the white expats. Suddenly it all made sense.

- These people are always looking for a way to charge more money from us foreigners, I thought grumpily to myself.

(One of these costs half a monthly houserent in this upside-down country, picture from the internet)

In order to spare as much as possible of this very expensive sunscreen, I decided to go to the local market to get a few second-hand long-sleeved tops. As Carol and I were walking to the market, I asked her:

- So where do these masses of second-hand clothing come from?
- What? You don't know? replied Carol.
-They come from you guys! Donations from the West.

(This is where the clothes you donate end up, picture taken from the internet)

The proof appeared soon after: a Dale Norway Lusekofte, being sold at the market in Eldoret. A state of the art piece of traditional Norwegian clothing, usually sold at around 250 dollars, going for the price of one dollar. Of course we had to buy that! So, friends back in Norway: if you recently donated a black and white Lusekofte to goodwill, I might be wearing it right now.

(These are sold for 100KSH, 1 dollar or 7 NOK at the market, picture taken from the internet)

Later that day I was coming back from the market. I alighted from the Matatu and started walking towards our home. Suddenly I heard someone shouting:

- Hey, mzungu! Come say hi to us!

I went over to talk to the 4 or 5 women that had called.

- We're selling mukimo, kikuyu food, they said and laughed.
- Would you like some?

Unusually sceptical as I was this day, I wondered if they were looking for a way of ripping off this mzungu.

- How much is it? I asked.
- What do you mean how much? they replied.
- It's a gift! Welcome to Kamukunji!

(Mukimo: like mashed potatoes only green! Picture taken from the internet)

God certainly knows how to put me in my place! Here I had been, grumpy and suspicious of Kenyans who, I thought, only wanted to get as much money from me as possible. How my mind even got there, don't ask. But that's what I love about God: whenever my paradigms, values or ideas about people start going off track, He knows just how to pull me back to His values, His paradigms and His love for His people!

God is great, and to the people of Kamukunji: I love you!!

We're just taking a walk, nothing more

2010-01-20T16:19:00.001+01:00

(Picture taken from the nternet)

You know how sometimes you just know that the Spirit is leading your steps?

Today Carol and I went for a hike on "Reflection Hill", as I have named it. We brought our bread, chapatis, bananas and water along, ready for a long, tiresome day of walking.
As we made it to the plains on the top of the hill, we met a guy in a yellow T-shirt:
- So, what have you come to produce? he said.
- Produce? We're not producing anything, we replied, a bit baffled at the question.
- Oh, so then you are missionaries? You have come to speak the word of God?
- Not really, we replied.
- We're just taking a walk, nothing more.

We kept going, and as we started going down the other side of the hill, we met a young guy who was herding cattle. Again, we stopped, talked about everyday things and continued on our journey. After a few minutes we arrived at the side of a lake, and we sat down. The young shepherd reappeared, now together with another guy. We struck up a conversation, or rather, Carol did. I was strugglig to understand their kiswahili, and kept silent most of the time.

- What is your dream? Carol asked the shepherd.
- I don't have one, was the reply.
- I have never had a dream.

We were surprised, to say the least, to hear such cynicism from a 20 year-old guy. As we kept inquiring, it turned out he had dropped out of secondary school due to lack of funds. His father had passed away 10 years ago, leaving the family in a very difficult economic situation. So for the past few years he had been roaming around, herding cows or working at the farms from time to time. Whenever there is no work, he usually passes his time in the local bar.

-Even when you met me in the morning I was drunk, he said.

We ended up not walking any further, but spending our afternoon with these guys. We visited their home, shared lunch and talked about our faith, our hopes and dreams. Truly God took great part in our conversation, and I am sure that we all left "Reflection Hill" impacted by His greatness in one way or another.

Reflection of the day: When you have surrendered your life to God, there is no such thing as just a walk.

The result of being caught sick inside the whole day, listening to music:

2010-01-17T16:12:00.002+01:00

Octavo Día, by Shakira, believe it or not

El octavo día Dios después de tanto trabajar
(The eighth day, God, after working too hard)

Para liberar tensiones luego ya de revisar
(to relief His tensions, later after revising)

Dijo: "Todo está muy bien, es hora de descansar"
(He said: "Everything is great, it's time to rest")

Y se fue a dar un paseo por el espacio sideral
(and He went for a walk in the sidereal space)

Quién se iba a imaginar que el mismo Dios al regresar
(Who would have imagined that the same God, coming back)

Iba a encontrarlo todo en un desorden infernal
(was going to find it all in an infernal chaos)

Que se iba a convertir en un desempleado más
(that He was going to become just another unemployed)

De la tasa que anualmente esta creciendo sin parar
(of the rates that yearly keep increasing)

Desde ese entonces hay quienes lo han visto
(Since then there are those who have seen Him)

Solo en las calles transitar
(walking alone in the streets)

Anda esperando paciente por álguien
(He's waiting patiently for someone)

Con quien al menos tranquilo
(with whom he at least peacefully)

Pueda conversar
(can have a chat)

Mientras tanto este mundo gira y gira sin poderlo detener
(At the same time this world spins and spins with no means to stop it)

Y aquí abajo unos cuantos nos manejan
(and down here a few manage us)

Como fichas de ajedrez
(like chess pieces)

No soy la clase de idiota
(I'm not the kind of idiot)

Que se deja convencer
(who lets herself be convinced)

Pero digo la verdad
(But I'm telling you the truth)

Y hasta un ciego lo puede ver
(and even a blind person can see it)

Si a falta de ocupación
(If because of lack of occupation)

O de excesiva soledad
(or excessive loneliness)

Dios no resistiera más
(God wouldn't take it anymore)

Y se marchara a otro lugar
(and He would leave for another place)

Sería nuestra perdición
(It would be our ruin)

No habría otro remedio más
(There wouldn't be anything else to do)

Que adorar a Michael Jackson
(Than to worship Michael Jackson)

A Bill Clinton o a Tarzán
(Bill Clinton or Tarzan)

Es mas dificil ser rey sin corona
(It's more difficult to be king without a crown)

Que una persona más normal
(than a regular person)

Pobre de Dios que no sale en revistas
(Poor God doesn't appear in magazines)

Que no es modelo ni artista o de familia real
(He's not a model or an artist or of a royal family)

At the same time the world spins and spins without any means to stop it
And down here a few manage us
Like chess pieces
I'm not the kind of idiot
Who let's herself be convinced
But I'm telling you the truth
And even a blind person can see it

Welcome to Eldoret!

2010-01-15T14:32:00.000+01:00

On Monday morning I headed northwest to the small town of Eldoret. Now, after a few days of settling in, I am starting to feel at home, and so it is time to communicate to you guys what the place is like. Unfortunately the cable for my camera is back in Nairobi, so for now I don't have any photos of my house. Anyway I'll try to explain as vividly as possible.

(Photo from the internet)

Let's start from the inside - out. The town of Eldoret is located in the Central Rift Valley, not too far from Lake Victoria and the Ugandan border. It's lies around 2500 metres above sea level, and has around 250 000 habitants. It is by the way the fastest growing town in Kenya. It is mainly a farming town, but holds quite a lot of factories aswell.

(Eldoret city centre, photo from the internet)

My impression of the town so far is that it is very busy, very brown and very windy. People are nice and not too used to wazungu so you get a LOT of attention. The city centre is really small, you can in fact walk from one side to the other in less that 15 minutes. It holds everything from loud, smelly town markets to huge Nakumatt shopping malls, all scrambled together to make the town lively and interesting.

(Eldoret in a nutshell, taken from the internet)

I'm living in the estate of Kamukunji, which is actually a small slum, so I am feeling right at home! The place is situated on a slope leading up to some beautiful hills that are really nice for hiking. The railway passes at the bottom of the slope, mainly carrying cargo. Out of the 5000 people living in Kamukunji, the ones I've met are wonderful people! They are outgoing, talkertive and have really made me feel at home in this place.

(My home, Kamukunji, taken from the internet)

Now, our house is located pretty close to the railway, that is, on the bottom outskirts of the area. It's part of a one story building with 10 apartments facing inwards towards a small square in the middle. Our house is about 5x6 metres in size and has two rooms: living room/kitchen/bedroom and bathroom. The kitchen consists of a sink and a gas cooking plate; the bedroom of a bed and a mattress (that we're sleeping on 4 weeks each); the living room of two chairs, a small table, a boookshelf and a study table; and the bathroom of a grounded toilet, a tap and a cold shower.

(Outskirts of Eldoret, photo from the internet)

In other words, my Eldoret world has everything I need, and nothing that I don't need. It's perfect!

I'll miss you

2010-01-09T18:47:00.000+01:00

People who know me know that I'm seldomly lost for words, but no I am. Leaving Mathare and all my friends there behind is one of the hardest things I've had to do. I don't know what else to say, than to mention a few of the reasons why Mathare has the Presidential Suite in my heart.

Making chapatis for the first time at Anto and Malonza's place. They didn't turn out very tasty, but we had so much fun making them!

Esther and I during our Christmas bash. I can't imagine any better way of spending Christmas than together with 120 of my very much loved friends from Mathare.

Chilling at a Hamburger-place after taking class 6 at Mathare Worship Centre to the museum and to town.

Being counselled before doing my first HIV-test ever. Fortunately it turned out negative.

Together with my "tall friend Bravura", one of the many musical talents in the Eastlands.

The Recreation Factory, where the magic happens, and the stars of tomorrow are born and raised.

My first meeting with Esther. Since then her family has become among my close friends in Mathare.

Redecorating the Daycare, one of our moments of pride and our definite icebreaker with the MWC.

Tired after a day of painting lions, Jesus and a big boat!

Together with Esther and Matei. She is 4 years old, he is 2. Would you think?

Together with two of our definite heartbreakers in the daycare, Francis and Stevey.

My fantastic team, Flokken! Thank you for three months of fun, creativity, arguing, spontanity, immoral jokes at the dinner table, funny quotes and everything else that makes you special! Thank you for your support in hard times, and for sharing my joy in good times. I love you all, and I wish you the best in your new Kenyan adventures! Knuseklem!!!

It's a walking nation!

2010-01-09T17:27:00.001+01:00

For the ones that have been reading my blog for some time, you have earlier read about how matatus, nissans and busses of all shapes, colours and decibel-levels crowd the streets and highways of Nairobi. Traffic jam is part of everyday life, just as are matatu accidents.

This past Monday and Tuesday, however, the situation was quite different. As some of you might have read in VG (http://mobil.vg.no/artikkel.php?artId=581371), all public transport-workers in Kenya decided to strike for these two days. The reason was that corrupt police officers keep forcing the drivers to bribe them, in order not to be arrested or taken off the road.

As most Kenyans cannot afford owning a private car or travelling by taxi, the result of the strike was that people took to their feet, leaving Nairobi resembling a giant anthill with people running up and down trying to keep on with their daily bussiness.

Two of these Nairobian-ants turned out to be Audhild and I. We had spent the night in Eastleigh, one of the estates neighbouring Mathare, and woke up to a full blown migrational movement outside the front door. As we needed to be back in Kasarani by 4 in the afternoon, we decided to join the masses of Kenyans on their apostle's horse journey to town, a walking distance of about one and a half hours, to get a taxi from there.

We were soon to realize that most wazungu in Kenya do NOT usually walk through the Eastlands by foot on a Monday afternoon. As we walk confidently down the crowded streets, people turned their heads, pointed and even laughed shamelessly at these walking whites: "Imagine, even the wazungu have to walk because of the strike!".

A friend of ours that was also going to town explained the situation: "People expect white people like you to be driven by private cars or safari busses. Wazungu never WALK in Kenya." According to him, we might even have ended up on the news if a camera crew had spotted us.

In some way or another, it always feels great when we defy the stereotypes of the wazungu and do things the way their are normally done in Kenya. Just by taking a matatu, buying mandazi at the local shop or taking a walk to town I feel like I am changing the way Kenyans view us outsiders, slowly by slowly. The saddest part of it all is that there are way too many wazungu who actually contribute to the stereotypes that are there, travelling only by private cars, fearing any person they might meet on the streets and keeping to themselves in their safe expat-bubble.

I want to be different. I want to demonstrate by walk and talk that people are people no matter where they are from, and that wazungu by no means require special treatment.
When we finally arrived in town; tired, sweating and covered by urban dust, we got into a cab and paid way too much to be driven back to safe old Kasarani. I felt like a giant hypocrite, but at least we had taken part in the "walking nation".

Merry Christmas

2009-12-30T20:41:00.003+01:00

Herren velsigne deg og bevare deg,

Herren la sitt ansikt lyse over deg og være deg nådig,

Herren løfte sitt åsyn på deg

og gi deg fred.

Han skal gi deg kraft til å leve

gi håp og framtidstro.

Han har sagt: "Kom til meg, du som strever

og jeg vi gi deg ro".

Han skal bevare deg fra alt ondt,

gi deg styrke når du er svak.

Tross ditt svik, dine nederlag,

er Hans nåde ny hver dag.

(Nairobi by night, taken from the internet)

As Christmas was coming to an end, on the night of 25th, Audi and I happened to find ourselves on the top floor of one of Mathare's story buildings. We witnessed the endless line of people walking up and down the main street of the area; women coming home from work, children playing, youth on their way to Christmas bashes and drunkards trying to find their way home.
Taking in the backdrop of all this activity, being the masses of single-room houses nearly piled one on top of the other in an area meant to fit no more than a quarter of the population that currently inhabits it, we knew at least a bit of what could be found behind the 600 000 doors of Mathare: a vulnerable balance between hope and hopelessness, appreciation and disappointment, love and mistrust, enthusiasm and desire to give up, as the people who have become our close friends leave their lives in God's hands realizing that their prosperity, happiness and even their security depend completely on Him.
Taken aback by the beauty of the moment, we sang.

(Downtown by night, taken from the internet)

He will give you power to live,

give hope and faith in the future.

He has said: "Come to me, you who struggle

and I will give you peace".

He will keep you from all evil,

give you strength when you are weak.

In spite of your betrayal and your defeats,

His grace is new every day.

Do you remember Esther?

2009-12-22T19:31:00.002+01:00

About two months ago I wrote about my new friend Esther. Some of you might remember the post as somewhat depressing, so I thought I'd give you guys an update on how she's doing. You see, Mathare is loaded with hope and potential.

Since the first time I met Esther, many changes have taken place in her life. Her mother, Catherine, was provided with a small loan so that she could start a bussiness selling chickens. This has gone well, and Catherine is now able to provide food and school fees for her children.

Esther is now in the daycare. Our coworkers there make sure she gets enough to eat and plenty of sunlight exposure, as the doctor recommended. She is growing by the day and is learning to walk slowly by slowly. By the way she loves walking, there is nothing that makes her smile more than that.

Esther is a brave girl. If you want to make her laugh, just pick her up and spin around as quick as you can, she loves it! However she has quite a temper, and demonstrates clearly when something makes her uncomfortable. And by the way, she is afraid of camels.

Esther is still a four-year old the size of a kid half the age. She is still struggling to walk on weak legs and will spend quite some time to catch up with her age-mates. However she has made tremendous progress and with God's help she will become the girl that she was intended to be.

God is good all the time, and all the time God is good.
That is His nature.

Yesterday

2009-11-30T19:35:00.002+01:00

Yesterday I was in Mathare doing meetings the whole day, followed by an overnight-prayer in the same-same place.
Today I am on the other side of town, visiting the Scandinavian settlings of Nairobi.

(Photo taken from the internet)

Yesterday I spent the night on a couch in a used-to-be hair salon next door to the shanties of the valley.
Today I am sleeping wrapped in a cozy comforter, in a bed that could fit at least two people.

(Photo taken from the internet)

Yesterday I woke up and realized that there was no water to take a shower or even wash my hands.
Today I am spending my morning hours in a private swimming pool.

(Photo taken from the internet)

Yesterday I had to go to the local church in order to find a toilet.
Today I am spending in a house that has two.

(Photo taken from the internet)

Yesterday I paid 70 bob for a plate of pilau in a worn-down Swahili hotel in Eastleigh.
Today I am paying 250 Kenyan shillings for a serving of "risengrynsgraut" at the Swedish school.

(Photo taken from the internet)

Yesterday I witnessed urban melancholy at its best, when the rappers of M.I.Faya put the frustration of growing up in the slums into words.
Today I am chilling to jazz-muzak as I am taking coffee in an uptown-mall.

(Photo taken from the internet)

But somehow, yesterday I felt at home.
And today every single bit of assurance of who I am and where I belong has been shaken to the bone.

(Photo taken from the internet)

It's funny how I have not missed Norway for a single day since I came.
But the moment I leave the ghettos of the Eastlands behind, is when I feel homesick.

(Photo taken from the internet)

"You don't need comfort in order to be fulfilled."
(Pastor Jeff)

"Polite notice"

2009-11-21T13:40:00.000+01:00

"Greetings to you in the name of Jesus", as the sign in our hallway says. :-)
I have finally figured out how to make it possible for anyone to comment on my blog posts. So now it should be fine. So... I am expecting a LOT of comments from now on, sawa?
Have a wonderful day!

Kenya is the country where...

2009-11-20T21:50:00.001+01:00

... you're woken up by pentecostal meetings at 7 AM (beats the alarm on my phone anyway).
... you have to make sure a restaurant actually has food before you decide to eat there.

... kids, when given a microphone, find it more natural to pretend to be preachers than rockstars ("Hallelujah! Amen!").
... doing laundry is painful, though extremely fun!

... you might catch a ride with the private bus of the best football team of the country, if you're lucky.
... "How are you" is not a greeting, but a nickname.

... you're constantly surprised at how many people speak Norwegian (without any particular reason).
... the mashed potatoes are green!

... having a picture of Osama bin Laden on the back of a public vehicle is totally OK.
... it's legal to drive with 30 live chickens attached to your car's roof.

... every stranger is a friend you haven't met.

(Want to know more? Check out http://www.magiskekenya.blogspot.com/)
Photos by Miriam C.L, Audhild R and Ragnhild E.O

Eastlands irony

2009-11-17T20:21:00.000+01:00

Yesterday Ragnhild and I went for a walk in Mathare to visit some other Norwegians working in the area. We had, as usual, greeted a few kids along the way (how are you mzungu!), passed by colourfully dressed ladies with babies tied to their backs and groups of men on the sidewalk, eating roasted corn and discussing the latest news. My thoughts are always the same as I move around this said-to-be violent and dangerous area: "This isn't so bad, these people are great! Friendly, peaceful, hospitable...".

I expressed my ideas to Ragnhild, saying that "when I get back to Norway, I'll make it my main cause to change peoples' prejudice about this place. I'll make them understand that it's perfectly safe and indeed pleasant to be here!". Same-old impulsive and optimistic me, I did it again.

As we were just about to reach our work-place, a girl maybe 8 years old approaches us. "That side is bad,", she says, pointing down the road. "What do you mean, bad?" I replied. An 8 year-old should never have to bear news like the ones she gave us a moment after: "People are fighting just over there. They have pangas (machetes)".

We were of course shaken by what we heard, and we went back to the centre we work at. Luckily the riot was not very big and quite far from where we were, so at no point were we in danger. Still, bearing in mind what happened in Mathare just two years back, the incident made me rethink my concept of this "peaceful and pleasant" place.

As I dive deeper into the cross-cultural experience, I am learning that nothing is completely black or white. Sure, there is a lot of prejudice against Mathare, and many rumours that have nothing to do with the truth. The place is indeed peaceful and pleasant... most of the time.

But at the same time I would not pay full respect to my friends who live there, if I did not acknowledge the hardships that they go through. Riots, mob-violence, death and disease might be hidden by a smile or consoled by trust in God, but that does not make it disappear.

Every day I learn something new. Yesterday God showed me, like many times before, that life consists of happiness and suffering, and one does not eliminate the other. The art of life is to know how to grow by acknowledging and learning from both.

I hope I'll someday get the hang of it...
(Pictures by Audhild Rue and Miriam C. Lilledrange)

Psalm 119:45

2009-11-11T09:05:00.000+01:00

This post is going to be about children. Not the managable kind of school children who know how to walk, talk and take care of their own hygiene. No, this post will be about the chaotic, cronically wet, hyperactive kind of kids, the ones that we've gotten to know in the "Little Treasures Daycare" at Mathare Worship Centre.

Many of you might be familiar with my attitude towards kids under 4 years of age. I find them terrifying. My explaination usually being that "they always cry and you know they want something, but they don't tell you what!", I try to avoid them as much as possible. Well, at least I used to.

You can imagine my reaction the first time we visited the daycare. Having 30 toddlers running around your legs, covered in every bodily fluid known to man while the smaller babies where crying their lungs out, produced only one instinctive reaction in my mind: run.

But this post is not going to be a pessimistic, self-pitying narration of my sufferings in the daycare. Because you see, I've come a long way since that day. Kids are funny that way, I didn't need to spend more than a few hours among them before I saw past the mass of noise, smell, spit and tears, and saw what they really are: God's beautiful creations, each with his or her own personality, gifts and purpose in life.

There is Owen, who only talks when his mom is around, but who holds on to me from the moment I arrive and refuses to let go untill I leave. There is Steve, who with his round, Chinese-like face can melt the coldest corner of my Scandinavian heart, and who copies me when I speak Norwegian. The is Junior, who literally spends his days running on the walls (bam!). There Francis who serves as our guide ("this girl is thirsty, and that guy misses his mom"), and Mathei who weighs about twice what he should. There is Rhoda, who is only four years old, but takes care of her 1 year-old sister in every way: feeds her, carries her, changes her diaper...

God has His ways of following His plans through. When I came to Mathare Worship Centre, I was convinced that I would be more comfortable working among the older kids is class 5 and 6. Untill now I have spent all my time running back and forth between class 2 and the daycare, and I couldn't be happier. It is amazing to see how God is equipping me through this year, busting every barrier that I have put on my own potential. If I had known two months ago that I would spent my time in Kenya working with babies and toddlers, I would seriously have reconcidered coming. God, however, had His own plans for me, and as usually He succeded.
I am forever grateful.

Kenyan public transport, where anything can happen

2009-11-06T19:22:00.000+01:00

It is about time to dedicate a post to the very soul of Nairobi, being the infinite number of matatus, nissans and busses rushing in every direction day and night. That's right, you don't know Nairobi untill you've managed the public transport system.

Now, to begin with a bit of background information, there are as mentioned three kinds of public vehicles in Nairobi. The most common ones are Nissans, which have room for 14 persons (often written as "14 blacks" or "14 Kenyans" on the side of the vehicle). However, they usually carry at least 15 or 16 persons. You will find all sorts of Nissans, from the plain, quiet ones going into posh estates, to the really noisy ones, painted in any colour you can imagine, that operate in the ghetto areas. The latter are of course the preferred ones, because as they ususally write on the walls: "If you don't like the noise, buy your own car".

The next ones are the infamous matatus. They look like giant beetles trespassing the crazy Kenyan traffic, ususally carrying thrice their capacity. These ones generally have a TV in front and a bass that would make any "russebuss" rust in shame. Then there are the bigger, but calmer busses, more predictable but also boring. Their names are however very interesting, some of them being "Stalingrad Shuttle", "Mexico City" and "The Negotiator".

I have lost count of all the marriage proposals I have gotten on public vehicles. The most memorable however, went something like this: "You see, this matatu has six wheels and one spare wheel. I am the matatu conductor, and so I also need a spare wheel, would you like to be my spare wheel?".
I didn't...

But on our trips through the jungle of public transport we have also made some great friendships, the most important one being Charles. Charles works downtown on the public transport station. His job is to get clients for the Nissans going to our part of town, and negotiating the prices (which vary from 10 to 70 shillings, depending on the length of the trip, time of day, weather and how much you look like a tourist that day). After running into him a few times, Charles has become our good friend. We have had a few nice talks while waiting for a Nissan to come along, and he always gives us good prices even if it comes out of his own pocket. He is one of many examples that Kenyans are genuinely friendly and hospitable people who always look to make newcomers feel at home. Slowly by slowly, my scepticism towards helpful Kenyans is replaced by gratitude that not all countries welcome visitors the way Norway does...

We have had a few memorable incidents on our Nissan rides. Just the other day we ended up being the centre of a heated discussion. The conductor, handles the money on the vehicles, had made a mistake and given us back the wrong amount of change. As we made this clear to him, he refused to give us the rest. Before we knew it every passenger on the nissan was involved and from the many sharp comments given to the conductor (in swahili of course) we picked up phrases like "...God saw what you did..." and "... call the police...". The change that the conductor wouldn't return was an equivalent of 7 NOK.

Today Audhild and I went to do some errands closer to town. We were coming back on a Nissan and had just reached the junction that leads to our area when the vehicle suddenly turned around and went another way. Feeling somewhere between excited and worried, we asked the driver what was going on. "There is a police patrol ahead, so we need to take a detour", was the answer I got. My question on why the driver didn't want to run into the police was elegantly avoided: "the officers are too harsh these days..."

It's all part of the everyday excitement: getting into the Nissans, Matatus and Busses not knowing exactly where you will end up, how much you'll have to spend or what kind of interesting characters you will run into. One thing is certain in any case: I'm not longing to get back to the half-empty, quiet public transport of Norway anytime soon.

(Pictures by Ragnhild E. Opdal)

Esther

2009-10-22T21:05:00.000+02:00

Today I made a new friend. Her name is Esther and she is three years old. I met her sitting on the stairs outside of Mathare Worship Centre, the place where I work. She was all alone, her dress hanging off one shoulder, her face covered in tears and flies.

I asked around, "doesn't anyone know this girl?". Yeah, they did. She used to be in the daycare, but her mom couldn't afford the 1.50 NOK a day fee to keep her there. In stead, she started leaving her outside on the stairs, telling her to stay put untill she came back from looking for work some 6 hours later. So she does. She stays put, not making a single complaint, that she's hungry, that she's lonely. Nobody minds her sitting there. You see, she's disabled. Not like other kids, she can't even walk well. She's probably not worth the bother.

But Esther is a kind and loving girl. She might not talk much, but her hugs and the way she clings on to every person who bothers to see if she's ok, says more than a thousand words could.

Welcome, welcome in our class!

2009-10-22T20:45:00.000+02:00

It's been quite some time since I last updated this blog, due to such bad excuses as lack of time, lack of concentration etc.. Anyways, I'm back. I think it's about time that I tell everyone a bit about the work that we are actually doing here in Kenya.

Right now the four of us are volunteering in a place called Mathare Worship Centre. This centre holds a primary school, a daycare, a microfinance program and a clinic for testing and check-ups of HIV patients. We've been working mostly in the school and also a bit in the daycare.

The school is open from 7 in the morning to 5 in the afternoon. It houses a nursery class, a pre-school class, and 1st to 6th grade. The kids usually go crazy when they see us, and they sometimes end up fighting over which classroom we should be in. When we finally enter one, we're usually met by this welcoming poem:
"Welcome, welcome in our class!
Happy to see you,
happy to hear you,
in our class!
Welcome, welcome in our class!"

I've been assigned as the assistent teacher of class 2, a great group of fifteen 7-8 year-olds. They're the best kids ever, kind, crazy, compassionate, clever, I've really fallen in love with every single one of them.
Their classroom is about 3 times 3 metres in size, and holds three benches and a blackboard which tends to fall down. The teachers come and go a bit as they please, so the kids have lots of free time. That's when I step in, to play lion or crocodile, sing songs, draw every animal known to man on the blackboard and anything else I can do to brighten their day.

I might not be a trained teacher, or ever have a lot of experience with kids. But my hope is that for these particular 7-year-olds, having a crazy Norwegian redhead imitating a lion might break the routine of an otherwise discouraging reality.

Thank you, Lord, for giving us rain

2009-10-09T20:52:00.000+02:00

As I am writing this post, I am listening to the splashes of heavy rain hitting African soil. Being from Bergen, the rainy town, this might seem quite obvious and even obnoxious. Here in Kenya however, every drop of water that finds its way to earth is celebrated. The reasons are overwhelming:

For several years, Kenya has been stricken by on-an-off periods of drought. Many of us might remember the East Africa food crisis in 2006, which was caused mainly by lack of water. Scarce resources and sky-high pricing on basic foodstuff led 10 % of the Kenyan population into a state of dependence on food-aid from the government and organizations.

This year the rains again marked their absence. Due to a general lack of water the government has implemented rationing, and some areas have been left completely dry. As the smell of wet dust now reaches my bedroom window, I am hoping and praying that a change may be on its way. I can imagine the consequences:

1: Water rationing would stop and we would now be able to shower and flush the toilet daily, as opposed to being limited to thursdays, fridays and saturday mornings.
2: We would no longer struggle for hours to get red dust out of our clothes.

but more importantly...

3: My sister Nana would no longer have to carry a 20 kg jerrycan one kilometer each way to have water for cooking and cleaning.
4: A lady, like many others, who used to earn her living selling water in Mathare slum, would again have an income to sustain herself and her daughter.
5: Thousands of Kenyan farmers would be able to grow their crops, keep their animals alive, and in turn have the security of waking up every day knowing that they will have something to eat.

Knowing all this, Bergen autumn rainfalls seem like such a waste...

The mzungu who fell...

2009-10-07T19:40:00.000+02:00

Tumefika - We have arrived.

And after almost a week of intense coursing, visits to churches and universities, and learning how to adapt to a whole new lifestyle, we finally got cellphones and internet yesterday.

Life in Kenya is great! Despite the fact that we usually lack running water and electricity (eg. warm water, quote Audhild: "Oh, the water's warm today! Wait, now it's not, oh ouch now it really is!!"), I am feeling right at home it this red, dusty land.

As mentioned we have been very busy, so much that I'm already forgetting what we have actually been doing. However I'll try to bring up a few highlights.

First a few comments on the place where we are staying, in my room there is:

1 Audhild

2 Beds

1 Desk

1 Chair

2 Mosquito nets

2 Suitcases that form...

1 Table/ Closet

... and a whole lot of shoes.

Next door we find Ragnhild and Miriam, and the four of us share a bathroom with a toilet and three showers. In the next house we have our kitchen, and there are a few other buildings around, housing staff's apartments and offices.

Today something happened that I have been waiting for for 6 whole years. I finally got to meet my Kenyan sisters Nana and Sarah in their home country. It was just incredible to see them approach me on the road outside the FOCUS centre. We spent the whole afternoon together, eating lunch and catching up. They even joined our class. The feeling of reaching this moment after such a wait is just incredible, I am still waiting for the reality of it to strike.

Now, one of the most memorable incidents so far occured when we were walking back from Naivas Supermarket, just a few kilometres from our home. We had bought quite a few heavy things, so I was carrying a plastic bag on my back. As we were walking I was sure that I saw a MYSA girls, and I stared at her so hard that I didn't realize my shoe got caught in a piece of wood and I fell straight on the ground! Leave the fact that this was in the middle of rush hour and that as wazungu we already had a lot of attention. The result was 200 Kenyans turning their heads to see the mzungu who fell. I think I'm well known in the neighbourhood by now.

At least this experience sirved as a culture shock coping skill developer. In a new cultural setting, as one falls and makes a fool of herself, the only thing one can really do is get back up as quickly as possible and laugh the whole thing off. And anyway, being covered in red African dust from head to toe is a part of the Kenyan experience.

Introducing: Flokken!

2009-09-29T14:07:00.000+02:00

It's way past about time to introduce what will be the three most important features of this blog, that's right, the rest of the Kenya team!

We've named ourselves "Flokken" (the flock), for two obvious reasons:

1. We're the largest team at Hald this year, consisting of four people.

2. We have a clear Sid look-, talk- and act-alike in our team. Guess who? Me... That's what you get for being from Bergen.

But let's introduce! We'll start off with Audhild, the calm, collected and wise "mom" on our team. Despite the fact that she's the youngest of us (sorry for mentioning it, Audhild), she takes care of the rest of the flock in a great way! Cool, reflected, and really funny when she hasn't slept in a while, that's Audhild for you.

Next up is Miriam, the backpacker from Flekkefjord. She's the only "grown-up" of us, but you would never notice. She likes taking walks and has a green hat sown on to her head (not sure what that means? ask anyone at Hald). Miriam is a "yes-person", spontaneous and in on anything. Too bad we never hitchhiked that boat, though...

Last, but not in any way least, is Ragnhild Elise (pjinsesse jjagnhild), from way north to be exact. Ragnhild is the typical Bedehus-girl, she knits and dreams of royalty. This is also why she has made the whole school refer to her as princess. Ragnhild is a wise girl, who always has a good advice in a hard situation.

So these are the wonderful girls that I will be spending my six months in Kenya with. I know very little about what it will be like, but what I do know is that "Flokken" will make the most of every minute of it!

(Photos by Serina Søyland Bru)

The last week in Mandal

2009-09-26T21:36:00.000+02:00

I am back in Bergen after 6 very exciting weeks at Hald. It feels very strange not to be constantly surrounded by 80 wonderful people, and I have to admit I'm feeling just a tad lonely. On the other hand I am beginning to realize that in only 5 days I'm leaving for Kenya, which is just amazing! It's so inspiring to see how God has stuck to his plan of sending me there for such a long time, and I find it hard to understand that this plan is finally being put into action. It still feels more like a distant dream than anything else.
But, let's take that part when it comes. For now I'd like to tell you guys a bit about the last wonderful week in my favourite bubble. The highlight was without a doubt the Latin American party on tuesday. It was amazing to have 80 people from all over the globe dancing to songs from "back home". It was without a doubt a huge success, it really seemed like people enjoyed it.

Only two days later, on thursday night, we had out farewell-party (or "welfare-party", as a tired fellow-student expressed it very eloquently one early morning). We all showed up in our best clothes for a night of good food, entertainment and dancing.

But even more valuable and important were the late nights spent this last week, playing ligretto, listening to music and talking. Knowing we were about to leave we all tried to make the most of every moment we had together.

It's incredible how quickly the last 6 weeks have past, and it makes me realize how short this year actually is. This makes me want to be 100 % present in every moment of it, and fully take in every emotion that comes along. As time passes I find myself opening up in a way that I haven't done in a very long time, and it feels great!

Photos came up

2009-09-20T17:11:00.000+02:00

Just a few snapshots from the everyday life at Hald. The first one here is from the dining hall where we spend some of the most important moments of each day (one has to eat!). Interesting conversations, "happy birthday"-singing and an infinity of practical information are just a few of the things you will experience if entering this room any day at 08:00, 13:00 or 18:00.

Many afternoons at Hald are spent playing football at the local field. I've tagged along a few times, even though, as many of you know, I am not at all a football fan. Hence, my camera is full of pictures of other people playing.

This last photo is of my entire class; FOCUS 2009/2010. Represented are Kaia (going to Brazil), Isaiah (from Kenya going to Oslo), Torkel (going to Uganda), Audhild (going to Kenya!), me (going to Kenya!!) Mesh (from Kenya, going to Bergen), Ruth (from Kenya going to Oslo), Kalisha (from Kenya going to Bergen), Dennis (from Uganda going to Stavanger), Rajen (from Nepal going to Kristiansand), Linda (going to Brazil), Miriam (going to Kenya!), Veronika (going to Nepal), Camilla (going to Nepal), Marie (going to Uganda), Ragnhild (going to Kenya!), Esther (going to Brazil), Devendra (from Nepal, going to Kristiansand), Erica (from Brazil going to Trondheim), Matt (from Brazil going to Trondheim), Peter (from Uganda going to Stavanger) and Malene (going to Uganda).

Now, do you want to know what "the flock" is? Then stay tuned...

Kristina makes an interesting, updated blog: take two

2009-09-18T16:09:00.000+02:00

Kristina has found her way back to the world of blogging. Some of you might remember my last try, when I planned to keep family and friends updated about my "Mexican chronicles" which, well, didn't really work out. But guys, this time I promise to try a lot harder.

Now for a tiny update. Right now I am in the library/computer room (mostly computer room) at Hald International Centre, where I've spent about five wonderful weeks learning about everything from discipleship and spiritual gifts, to dealing with questions of poverty and climate change, not to forget such important life skills as how to break a sweat playing volleyball and handle 15 losses in a row playing Ligretto against Marthe.

But now let's get to the exciting part: In a little less than two weeks I am leaving this funny little wood-smelling country, heading for Kenya! As some of you may know, I've been waiting for this for a few years now, so I am very very very excited!! But first there are things to learn, ligretto-games to play and sweats to break, so I'll come back to you all soon with more groundbreaking news from the most international corner of Norway.

By the way: pics coming up.