It was nearing 3:30am when we woke up in Terminal 2 at the Cairo Airport. We had used the past three hours to sleep in one of the lounges during the first half of our overnight layover, but we were told that each visit was limited to three hours because “this lounge is not a hotel.” Needless to say, our time there was up, so we headed over to Terminal 3 where we would be departing six hours later. By 4:00 am we had arrived at Terminal 3 via an airport bus that required us to pass through security before entering the next terminal. The place was dead. There was no one around except for two security guys at the x-ray machine. Chris and I dumped our bags on the conveyor belt and passed through. As always, we expected to have no issues as we had scanned them several times in the past 24 hours. The guy in charge was no dummy though. We were all alone… just the four of us. He saw us and requested to look through Chris’s bag. He began digging and halfway through the backpack, he looked up at us and quietly requested we give him and his friend some money or “baksheesh” as they say in arabic. Are you kidding me??? Chris responded nicely saying he didn’t have any money to give him. He continued digging and then took it a step further and requested to see Chris’s shoulder bag. He opened it and pulled everything out only to find Chris’s money belt. Go figure. The security guy swooped upon the money belt like a hawk, unzipping the main pouch to see about $25 US dollars. Chris quickly grabbed it, zipped it up and said “Sorry, I have no tip.” The guy persisted with his hands still over Chris’s unzipped, scattered bag. He requested money from Chris, then me, then back to Chris. I stood there in horror feeling extremely vulnerable by this corrupt official while Chris proceeded to decline his request nicely. Finally, the guy could see it would not be easy to convince us, so he zipped up Chris’s bag, and asked again. By now, Chris was already putting on his backpack. Chris gave him a firm no this time and we took off up the stairs. Phew! Luckily the guy seemed new at the whole corruption game as it could have ended much worse.

We jumped out of the beat up and rusted four-door sedan to find ourselves facing the likes of 50+ Ugandan village people staring us down. They were all seated under a huge old tree that created enough shade to ward the heat off of them as they waited on our arrival. Some were seated in half broken wooden desks while others were on ground watching us fiercely. It was obvious. They knew we were coming to visit the village primary school.

Our friend Kenneth, who we were visiting in Uganda, was born and raised in this particular village. He decided to bring us to this school, amongst other places, to show us the “true” Uganda. His village is small and word travels fast so when Kenneth told his family and friends we (white people) would be accompanying him over the weekend, it became the talk of the town. People found out we would be swinging by to see a few of the local public schools so they made a huge effort to gather upon our arrival.

It was awkward to say the least as people’s eyes traced our every move and we were escorted to the empty wooden chairs before the crowd. It was then that I could tell that this experience wouldn’t be as I had imagined: a walk through the classrooms, a chat with the teachers, and maybe a short game of soccer with the students. No, this was a formal meeting. Luckily, we had Kenneth and his friend Charles who sat on both sides of us to translate what was happening. Several formal thank yous and introductions were made by the head of the Parent Teacher Association and other decision making boards. Then the teachers, parents and community members thanked us repeatedly for coming and then divulged the truth of the mater. The head speaker, agenda in hand, spilled all of the problems facing the school. There were not enough teacher housing, not enough classrooms for the children, no bore hole for clean water, no roofs on some of the classrooms, no money for lunches, and no exercise books for children to use during lectures. They explained a list of sad truths to us as we sat there trying to remember them all. Then, the speaker stopped speaking in his tribal tounge and grew quiet. Charles turned to me and said, ‘they’d like you guys to introduce yourselves and tell them how you can help them with all the problems they have.’

I’m pretty sure I sat there looking like a deer in the headlights for a brief moment before Kenneth got up and began introducing us in the local language. What would we be able to say or do to these people who have been waiting here all day to share with us their problems in hopes that we can fix them?? Ideas raced through my head. Who do we know? What connections do I have? How much money could I contribute? How honest should I be with them? Chris and I exchanged ideas briefly as Kenneth was wrapping up our introduction. Thankfully, Chris got up, thanked everyone and addressed the issues that they had grilled us on. He made it clear that we are two people who were not prepared to fix all of the schools problems, but that we can gladly share their story with others so that one day, their school may get the attention that it needs. We didn’t really have much else to say and I think Charles could see that so he quickly requested we get a tour of the facility from the Head Master. Whew! I couldn’t tell whether the people were completely disappointed or satisfied with our visit. We were the first white people to visit their school EVER and although we are recent grads, they see white people and assume the money and power follows.

Along the tour we learned about the hardships of being both a student and a teacher in rural Ugandan villages. The teachers don’t have places to sleep on school grounds so many of them walk up to 7km twice each day to teach. The students have no water to drink so they use their lunchtime to run to the nearest borehole (6km away round trip) to get water which usually makes them late for their afternoon class. None of them can afford to eat during lunchtime so their attention span is minimal for most of the afternoon. The classroom sizes range from 100 to 250 students per teacher, which allows for no one on one interaction. For the few rooms they have, students cram into a small area where the early arrivers sit in desks, while the majority of the class finds a place on the cold, hard ground. Three of the seven grades in the school don’t have classrooms at all so they are forced to teach class outside under the trees, pending it doesn’t rain (in which case school for them is out early). Additionally, 0% of children have their own textbooks. The teacher has the only one, which is transcribed onto the chalkboard for the children to take notes from and use those to read and study. Sadly though, most children walk to and from school every day for up to 3 hours each way. Therefore, when school gets out at 5pm, by the time they get home and eat dinner, there is no light for them to study. It is absolutely depressing to begin to understand what these children go through just to get a basic education, when meanwhile we have children in the US who throw fits of angst about going to their schools.

Several students and community members followed us around as Chris and I asked the Head Master questions about the school. Gaining eye contact with a few of the students made my heart melt. I desperately wanted to give them the books they needed, a light to study with, food for their tiny stomachs, a roof over their head and drinking water for the hot school days. I desperately wanted to hug them and tell them that everything would be okay. But it wouldn’t. Less than 40% of the children in this primary school would pass the National Exam to attend secondary school and less than 1% of those children would pass the exam to be admitted into University. The worst part was, we couldn’t do a thing about it while we were there. Adults and children both looked to us like we would be their answer but we weren’t. We were nothing more than a glimpse of hope that more white people would hopefully attend their school and give it the attention it deserved.

If you’re interested in helping out schools in the villages of the Kaberamaido district of Uganda, please contact our close friend Kenneth Ongalo-Obote at: kenobote71@yahoo.com.

Whoever says traveling as we are for 8 months is like a long vacation is severly mistaken. While it has been the best learning experience I’ve ever had and we have had a wonderful time along the way, it is by no means a relaxing vacation. Up until this point, Chris and I have lived off only $29USD per person per day including food, transport, acomodations, and activities etc. We’ve been eaten alive by mosquitos, crammed 40 people into a 14 person bus, slept in places that wouldn’t even be considered adequate housing the States, been haggled and harassed because we’re white, and eaten food that could make your gag reflexes react in an instant.

Don’t get me wrong, there is a sweet satisfaction in saving money and it’s even better when we recognize that we’re getting the local experience by submerging ourselves in the foreign cultures. I have learned more this trip than I have in traveling to Europe and Asia combined because we are doing almost everything at a local level. And to my surprise, the cheaper the accomodations we stay at, the more interesting and outgoing people we meet. If we hadn’t lived the cheap life, we would never have learned the language. We would have never have cooked the food. We would never have seen the hardships. We would never have learned the rituals and cultural traditions. Our trip would be a long, posh, series of uneventful experiences and people.

Traveling on the cheap has come with it’s own obstacles, but I can’t recommend it enough. It allows us to only begin to see the world from a lifestyle that more than 90% of the population lives… in poverty.

Chris and I returned late last night from Northern Kenya and may I just begin by saying THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ALL OF YOUR SUPPORT AND DONATIONS!!! We had an experience of a lifetime on our whirlwind adventure up North to feed those starving from the drought. We decided to buy maize meal and cooking fat from a wholesale store in Nairobi allowing us to purchase more food per dollar. We loaded what we could into an off-road, canvas topped Land Cruiser that Joseph Lekuton had arranged for us. We ended up filling the truck so full that we had to save half of the donation money to purchase more food up North after distributing what we had. Your contributions of $2,455 allowed us to purchase:

• 1.8 tons of maize meal
• 590 pounds of cooking fat

We then delivered:

• 2.1 tons of food to individuals
• 15,816 meals to villages

Every single cent went to feeding empty bellies of young children, windowed and elderly women, pregnant mothers, and the men attempting to provide for them. The first village we stopped at was surreal. We pulled up to a few small huts made from tree branches and empty rice sacks. They were small and egg-shaped, not even large enough for one to fully stand up in. The land was red and barren from the endless days of no rain and the burning African sun had absorbed any moisture that was left. There were a few cow carcasses lying around and a well that was completely dry. We drove slowly into the village trying not to disturb people with our cloud of dust. There were small children who ran to the car waving and chasing us. Most of them had no shoes, tattered clothing and appeared to have not bathed in weeks. They were people who had never been exposed to the simple luxuries we all take for granted. When we jumped out of the truck a group of young girls ran up to the silver door handle staring at their foggy reflections. They were amazed that they could see themselves! The rest of the children followed us around as we met the village elder and began arranging how we should best distribute the food to ensure every family received something. I was so shocked that despite that everyone was almost dying of starvation, they still had the decency to gather around and chat with us before taking their food. There was a true sense of appreciation, hope, and happiness that came from them. They orderly took a place in line and waited their turn to take their food, thank us, and shake our hands. There was no pushing, no yelling, and no greediness. Shocking me even further, instead of taking their food back to their huts and eating it, they proceeded to make us tea with the little camel milk they had left. They showed complete selflessness and gratitude even in their time of despair. You all fed the bellies of some unbelievable individuals!!!

We proceeded to several other villages, some large and some small. Several of the villages were infested with dead cattle, the putrid stench of bad meat and blown intestines, and flies that found homes on the children’s faces, hair and teeth. Most of the children owned only one outfit which was holey and covered in dirt, but there were a few boys who ran up to the truck completely naked. They had no clothes to put on. These boys were skeletal looking, with childlike legs of nothing more than skin over their bones. Their knees protruded from their tiny upper legs. Their ribs showed through as they ran and their collar bones popped out casting deep shadows on their chest as they waved. Yet, the fact that they were starving hadn’t taken away their childlike curiosity and spirit. They were filled with smiles and giggles. And the young children who’s mothers were out fetching water several kilometers away, would patiently wait in line to collect the goods for their family. When they would take the cooking fat and the maize meal into their own hands they acted as though they had just won $1,000,000. The satisfaction it gave me to see them so happy was the best gift I could have ever received. The weak mothers and elders thanked us repeatedly and the children waived and chased our vehicle as we drove to the next village.

Chris and I left the last village having learned extremely valuable lessons about life, love, gratitude, and appreciation. We felt so small surrounded by an issue that was larger than all of us. We recognized that we could not feed everyone, but even if we were able to make the slightest impact on someone, it was a good start. From the bottom of my heart, we cannot thank you all enough for your donations. You gave these people hope and probably saved a few lives as well.

A message from the Hon. Joseph Lekuuton:

It was just yesterday that we were heading back to Nairobi from the Maasai Mara on what we expected to be a mindless four hour drive. We jumped into the small SUV and began our drive back to Narok where we would transfer to a matatu to take us the rest of the way to Nairobi. Relaxing into my seat, I, for once, did not have a care in the world. I was perfectly content with where I was at that moment, or so I thought I was.

No more than five minutes after we left the gate did we begin to see the realities of the drought in Kenya. I noticed that the Mara was dry but I didn’t realize what kind of impact it was making on the local people, their cattle, and the wildlife. The vegetation was brown and the creeks were completely dry. There were several cow carcasses strewn about the land; some of which had recently died while others we just skeletal remains. The drought’s destruction was endless. Local Maasai were making their daily treks through the scattered carcasses and not even giving them a second look. It hit me that this had become everyday living for them. It was no longer about finding the greenest pasture for their only source of income (their cattle), but it was now about finding any pasture that their cows could feed on. The situation has become survival of the fittest for both the people and the animals. At one point along our drive, three Maasai were walking their cattle across the barren land to find a place to graze. They had around 100 head of cattle moving forward, yet just 500 feet behind them, they had already lost 6 cows. The weak cows were lying down too weak to hold themselves up. They would certainly die over the next 24 hours. There was one cow that two Maasai walked back to save. It took them all the strength they had as they fought gravity to lift this deathly skinny cow from the red chalky land back to its feet. It staggered around for several seconds having no food or water in its system to help it move forward. Our driver, a Maasai himself, explained that this particular cow would only last three more days at the most. He mentioned that in one month, the drought will take a head of 100 cattle, down to a group of three or four.

My chest tightened and my throat closed as I fought back my tears. How could this be happening while I along with most people around the world had no idea?!?!? What would these people do for income? For food? For survival? The driver then explained the following bits of information which I have confirmed:

• 90% of cattle will die as a result of the drought
• Maasai rely on their cattle for 100% of their income
• While locals once sold their cattle for anywhere between $125 to $375USD, their famished looking cows are now selling for as little as $13USD. Despite these prices, they are still selling cattle and using all of their income to buy feed for the rest of their starving heard
• Locals are having to kill their own cows to provide food for their starving families
• The government has declared a state of emergency in most Kenyan regions however most of the aid money is vanishing before it hits the villages due to corruption
• Schools in Kenya are proving to be the only place some children can get food
• Since the cattle are so skinny and unhealthy, when the rain finally does come, the cold and wet weather often kills off the weakest cattle in the group

I was no longer content. Instead I sat there completely perplexed, disturbed, saddened and shocked. The drought is currently a huge problem, not only for the cattle and the people, but also for the wildlife alike. Animals such as monkeys, leopards, and lions are becoming for vicious with Maasai and their cattle because they are desperate for food that they would normally find during a normal days hunt. I recognized that Chris and I could not solve the problem on our own but I was not ready to ignore the situation.

Later that day, we met up with Joseph Lekuton, a key member of the Kenyan Parliament (formerly Chris’ 8th grade teacher). We were telling him the story of our drive home and his eyes widened as he said, “You think that’s bad? You should see the people up North. Everyone is starving. The cattle are dying off and many people haven’t eaten in 4 days. They don’t even know where their next meal will come from.” Chris and I sat there silent. Just when I thought it couldn’t be worse, it was. Joseph wanted to take us up North to show us his province. It was then that it dawned on us. We already committed to using a percentage of our donations to a charitable cause, and what is better than saving people from slowly starving to death? We couldn’t walk away from the opportunity to help. Then Joseph said he would give us a driver, an interpreter, and mapped out areas that need the most help if we could buy the food and deliver it ourselves.

We quickly changed our flights and committed to buying at least $1,000USD worth of food (we’ve increased our goal, see below). I know this is very last minute, but we will be purchasing and delivering food through Monday, October 13th and 100% of the donations that come through the link/button below will be put towards feeding those hit hardest by the drought in Kenya. Please feel free to donate whatever you can as every dollar will help. Thank you in advance for your support and contributions.
UPDATE: An anonymous donor has agreed to match our goal (up to $1,000) if we reach it, so we’ve raised our goal to $1,000 USD
UPDATE 2: In less than 24 hours, we’ve already reached our $1,000 goal, and thus have also received our matched $1,000. Thank you all for your support! We will be on the road delivering food until October 13th, so we will gladly accept further donations and use them to buy more food along the way.

Donate to Chris + Amy’s Kenya Food Drive

Fundraising Status: $1,165 / $1,000 + $1,000 = $2,165

According to the World Health Organization there are 300 to 500 million clinical cases of malaria each year resulting in 1.5 to 2.7 million deaths. It is one of the world’s deadliest diseases and one of the leading causes of sickness and death in developing countires. Therefore, when I grew ill for several days in Tanzania (an infected area), I became nervous knowing the possibility of it being maleria was real. I convinced myself it was the flu at first but when no one else grew sick around me and the researched symptoms sounded similar to malaria, I was easily convinced that I should go to a clinic to get tested. As for getting tested, I didn’t know what to expect or how long it would take, but I knew that the longer I let it persist, the worse off I’d be.

I had just taken the ferry over to Zanzibar that morning and I felt sick as a dog on the boat. Upon arriving, we quickly found a place to drop our bags and immediately set out to find the clinic the guide book suggested for travelers wanting to be tested for maleria. After walking around in the scortching sun for what seemed like entirely too long, we popped our heads into a hotel and asked the owner if he could assist us in finding the clinic we were looking for. He had never heard of it however, coincidentally, he mentioned he felt as though he may be infected with maleria as well and that he’d walk us to a clinic he knew close by so that we could both get tested.

We followed him closely, winding through the narrow, maze like streets lined with archaic stone buildings and shops. Within 5 minutes, we arrived at the clinic. It was what I was expecting for an African building: a small, old, and somewhat rundown building with a sign at the top of the door stating that indicating it was a clinic and drug facility. The nice hotel owner walked me inside where we both quickly filled out a small form giving our name and date of birth. I followed him back to a small room where I went inside facing a doc sitting in a white lab coat. He didn’t speak much English but I said “malaria test” and he knew right away what he was doing. He opened a small metal needle from a secure wrapper, rubbed my thumb with alchohol and gave it a good prick. As the drop of blood on my finger grew larger, he collected it on small glass try, put it under his microscope and told me to wait in the hall outside.

I sat there on the bench next to another man waiting for his results for only a few minutes when the doc called me back in to his office. He handed me a blank paper with one scribbled word on it… ‘NEGATIVE.’ As crazy as it sounds, I had mixed feelings as I stared at the note in my hand. If I tested possitive then I would know what I had and I could be prescribed medicine to treat it promptly. On the other hand, testing negative proved that my anti-malarial pills are working and that my immune system would get stronger.

I went to pay at the front counter and when the woman told me the amount I owed, I was completely shocked. It equated to a little under $1.50 USD!!!! How could it cost so little, yet millions of people don’t get tested when they come down with symptoms? Up to 2.7 million people die EVERY YEAR because they don’t treat their malaria in a timely manner. I understand $1.50USD is equivalent to much more in developing countries but it disgusts me to think that while we throw money around like chump change, other people live off of less than that per day. It has made me appreciate the value of $1.50USD and I will forever sympathize with those who debate whether they should get tested and increase their chances of survival or feed their family.