I thought I’d walk away from my experience traveling the world knowing more, conquering more, accepting more, and having answers to everything in life but instead I come back with more questions than before I left. Why are groups of starving people still donning smiles and waving to me as I pass them in my big governmental SUV? Why do people in poverty not work longer hours so that they may begin saving money to help their family out of this impoverished state of living? Why do some people support wars against countries that challenge their beliefs, when they can easily accept me and my differing values? Why do cities and countries not work towards more developed and less harsh systems for technology, transport, building, energy, etc? Why do so many people die each year from diseases like malaria when it costs close to nothing to get tested and cured? Why, why why???

That’s when it hit me like a heavy weight. It’s a mindset that people all over the world have adjusted to. Why be angry and hungry when you can be happy and hungry. Why kill yourself working when you could enjoy the time you have with your family instead? Why change what already works. Why buck the cycle of life. I have punished myself ever since graduating from university because I didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life. I didn’t know what would make me happy and while my heart lead me one way, my mind would refuse to let it run. The one thing I’ve realized is that Americans in general are so focused on materialistic goods that we can never be truly satisfied because we won’t allow ourselves to create a healthier mindset. Societal norms tell us that we must have a certain salary, accommodated by a posh office, a fancy car, a beautiful house with a white picket fence and high-end designer goods. Yes, I agree, it’s healthy to have giant ambition but at what cost? It’s ironic actually. In Africa, I told a young local guy where I was from, and he said: “America! Where you can be anything you want to be and dreams really do come true.” Yes this is true to an extent but at what cost? People will never have enough material goods, because as we acquire more, the standard of what is acceptable rises to even greater heights, making us strive for something that will never satisfy our basic human instincts.

I’ve recently realized that I’ve been looking in all of the wrong places to find some of the answers to my personal questions. Diverse people around the world have taught me that all it really takes is a roof over my head, food in my stomach, and family and friends to make me happy. Everything beyond that will compliment the basics, not overrule them. Because at the end of the day, it’s all about mindset.

We started the day meeting the chef over coffee. We looked over the menu and talked about what dishes would be best to prepare. After some debate, we decided on the following:

• Banana flower salad
• Fresh spring rolls
• Banh xeo (Vietnamese pancakes)
• Grilled fish in banana leaf

Then the chef surprised us each with traditional Vietnamese hats to wear to the market. The first phase of the class was visiting the local market to identify and purchase the ingredients we needed. Our first stop, the veggie section, was filled with women donning their silk pajamas and traditional hats crammed behind their baskets overflowing with red chilies, fresh morning glory, garlic, aubergine, carrots, etc. There were tomatoes stacked neatly in piles, purple onions flowering the walkways, and bright green bean sprouts scattered between several different tables. The chef pointed out the vegetables specific to Vietnam and bought the ones we would be using in our food later that morning.

The fruit section was filled with the standards: apples, mangos, bananas, oranges and more, but one local fruit, the dragonfruit, always caught my eye (if only it taste as good as it looked).

Next, we snaked our way through the small aisles fighting the bustling local crowd to the fish. It was right along the river, but being out in the open didn’t help whisk away the hot, muggy, fishy smell. There were large fish and small fish, live fish and dead fish, there were fish that were being filleted and even fish being ground into fish cakes. We picked our cuttle fish quickly and kept moving (trying to dodge the fish guts on the ground with our sandals).

Finally to the meat market, where in addition to the standard cuts of raw meat (not refrigerated of course), we found live chickens in their cages, full size pigs waiting to be slaughtered, and numerous other animal parts including hooves, ears, intestines and brains. It had less of a smell than the fish market, but seeing the pigs squealing as they were being pulled from their pen by their hind legs didn’t make me feel any better. Finally, we stopped to pick up a few lovely smelling spices on our way out of the market.

We headed back to the restaurant where we were given our chef jackets and hats. We worked our way through the process of making each dish. First chopping and slicing the ingredients, then mixing the sauces, filleted the meat and finally preparing the dishes. To top it off, we were even taught a few tips on food presentation. By noon, we had successfully prepared 4 beautiful dishes each! And of course we saved the best part for last… sitting down and enjoy our freshly prepared Vietnamese meal!

If you’re interested in any of the recipes, feel free to email us at contact[at]withoutaguide[dot]com and we’d be more than happy to send them to you!

We drove another 45 minutes to a remote military base where we loaded the trunk with weapons. While I was just there for the RPG, our car mates were there for the RPG, Grenade Launcher, Hand Grenades and K57 Machine Gun. Finally we arrived. With a propane tank on the horizon (which we all missed) I set the RPG launcher on my shoulder, put on ear protection an pulled the trigger. It was an awesome experience! I actually felt like I was inside one of the hundreds of video games I’ve played where shooting an RPG is routine. It might have cost $300, but I’ll certainly have a great conversation starter for years to come!

Here’s the video:

The Bug + Spider Lady

Today, we decided to explore the Khmer cuisine, looking specifically for one thing: fried tarantulas. Not knowing where these creepy crawlers were hiding, we got lost in the labyrinth of the Central Market of Phenom Penh where they have women butchering carcasses of animals next to manicure chairs, oiled car parts next to undergarments, and fruits and vegetables next to turtles, frogs, and fish (both dead and alive). The rain found it’s way between the tarp roofs very quickly and before we knew it, we were wading around in a mix of muddy water, fish guts, meat shards, and vegetable peelings. Needless to say it was not pleasant but we knew it’d be worth the effort. After asking several local workers where the “a-ping” was (the word for spider in Khmer), we were finally pointed in the direction where we finally located the bugs… right next to the jewelry of course!

Our Bag of Bugs

There were two women sitting on small plastic foot stools with 4 sacks in front of them: tarantulas, crickets, mealworms and king-size cockroaches. I was excited for the adventure but when I finally got up close and personal with these massive bugs, I was no longer enthused about the thought eating them. They looked too alive to be dead much less edible but we couldn’t turn away now. We ordered a bag of assorted buggy goodness and thanked the women for helping us fulfill our strange desire. By now, I was not hungry nor impressed with the bag I was holding. I looked to Chris, who had a massive smile across his face, and while I tried to give off a quick grin, deep down I was sick because I knew what came next… eating them. For those of you who don’t know, I’m deathly afraid of spiders so holding this huge tarantula amongst other huge bugs was already creepy for me.

We weren’t ready to eat our new delicacies yet, so we carried them around for the rest of the day. Finally, after a few beers at a bar, it was time to open the bag. Chris started with the *main course* (the spider), first trying one of the legs, and finally taking the plunge to eat its massive body. In his words: “It’s good. It doesn’t taste like much more than something fairly tasteless that’s fried. I’d definitely eat another!” I couldn’t bring myself to eat a spider, but I did try a mealworm, cricket and part of the giant cockroach. They definitely weren’t the worst things I’ve ever tried, but I won’t be eating them again any time soon.

To top off the night, our waitress noticed we had many leftover bugs that we weren’t going to finish and called the other waitresses over. They all started to chow down like they hadn’t eaten all day. I guess it’s a good thing someone loves those little guys (or should I say big guys). I’d much rather them be eaten than be running around my $10 hotel room!

1. Take time apart from your travel buddy. Whether it’s just for a few hours or several days, it is a necessity.
2. Reward yourself when you feel the world is getting the best of you. Stay at a place with a hot shower or take yourself out to a nice dinner. Trust me, it’s worth the money once in a while.
3. Take care of yourself. If you feel you need to a good rest after sleepless nights on the trains and buses, then make a point to not set your alarm. Even take a sleeping aid if you can’t get good rest on your own.
4. Stay connected to things that interest you physically, mentally and emotionally. Always have a hobby that you can turn to even if it seems completely bogus at times.
5. Learn. Learn. Learn. There are so many cultural experiences available to anyone who’s interested. Learning about different countries and their customs provide a whole new appreciation for things that may have not have made sense before.
6. Talk with other travelers and locals. It’s extremely easy to make friends, get travel tips and find local hidden gems. Even better, it keeps you entertained from someone other than your travel mate.
7. Be adventuresome. I know it’s easy to fall into a routine and it’s often uncomfortable to break old habits. However it’s definitely worth breaking outside the norm and do something new, like white water rafting or shooting an AK-47. These are the experiences you’ll never regret. They are the memories that fill your trip with excitement.
8. Create “you” time. Whether it’s reading a book, watching the sunset, or journaling, be sure you have time to relax for you and you only.
9. Learn to accept everything for what it is. It may not be logical or reasonable to you, but it works for other people. All you can do is embrace it and smile through gritted teeth.
10. Have fun. The minute you’re no longer enjoying your travels you need to change it up or head home. It’s that simple.

Click for PDF version of article

Given that the recent floods in Northern Kenya were not the perfect answer to a 2-year drought, the tribes people whom we fed in Northern Kenya back in September are still extremely grateful for yours and our efforts and they made sure to share their gratitude with reporters and the rest of Nairobi’s community. During our experience of a lifetime up North, we had the pleasure of two journalists joining us, Fatuma and Jack. Their sole purpose was to document our life-changing journey and interact with the local communities. Not only did Fatuma and Jack find the droughts impact to be shocking but they also found our commitment in helping others to be fascinating. Upon arriving back into Nairobi, Fatuma and Jack shared their stories and photographs with their newspaper only to find that the paper had made the swift decision to publish our story from the North. Check it out below:

I know we’ve said this before, but a huge THANK YOU again to those of you who contributed to the cause in Northern Kenya. You people are the ones changing the world through every effort and contribution you made in September. Our gratitude for your efforts is endless.

WRONG! WRONG! WRONG! I couldn’t have eaten those words any quicker than I did when I got off the train station in Varanasi. Yes, India has it’s own culture and chaos but Varanasi is the epitome of India lifestyle, culture, beliefs, and traditions all lumped into one city. It was 6:00am in the morning and our eyes were still have filled with sleep. The morning started with a rickshaw ride to a guesthouse. Once we settled on a price, the driver set off constantly honking, swerving around cows, nearly running people and dogs over, and almost being crushed by large pinata-like decorated Indian trucks. We stopped unexpectedly within 10 minutes of our destination for a chai (Indian culture is to offer tea to all guests/newcomers). I didn’t know what we were stopping for as there was only a small rickety wooden shed in which there was a man sitting on the table next to a boiling kettle, but I couldn’t be more happy. My eyes burned from the think smog and pollution that setteled on the streets and I did everything I could to remove the burn for the short time we were standing still. The driver brought us back two small cups of chai in clay/mud-like cups. We were told to NEVER drink the water in India and while it was hot tea, I was still hesitant. We drank the chai to be polite, and afterwards handed the cups to the driver, who then instructed us to throw them into the ground. He said they would smash to pieces and decompose overtime. “OK,” I said as my mind still wondered if this tea would make me sick.  The driver jumped back into his autorickshaw and we zoomed onward toward the guesthouse.

We settled in, dropped our bags, and took off on foot to gain our bearings of the sacred city. Upon walking down the alley from our guesthouse to the main road, we stumbled upon several “interesting” things: a man peeing right in front of us, a goat roped up to a door eating the trash it was surrounded by, fresh cow dung (which I slipped in), as well as some not-as-fresh human dung, dog dung and goat dung (after India, we were experts in spotting dung). We also saw a litter of five 1-week old puppies sleeping in the piles and piles of moldy, fly infested trash. I noticed several other dogs roaming the streets. Oh my!!! They all looked the exact same minus the coloring of a few. They were also all wild and what looked to be imbred. I was expecting stray cats everywhere but stray dogs, this was a new experience.  We wandered around Varanasi aimlessly the rest of the day looking to soak up whatever it was that lured people to this spiritual place.

The next morning, we took a 6:15am boat down the Ganges to see the riverfront from the water. The Ganges is considered to be the most holy river to Hindus and represents life, purity, and the Goddess Ganga Ma, therefore it is where most daily routines and rituals occur. It draws thousands of worshiper’s, locals, and tourists each day. We climbed aboard the boat and were steered down the shores of Varanasi only to try to take in part of what the busy shoreline offered. To begin, there are temples situated every few meters which are decked out in delicate detail, design, and color. Everywhere you looked, there were men, women and children performing their habitual bathing routines with the women clustered together bathing in their full saris while the men stripped down to their loin cloth or tightie whities. There were people brushing their teeth with the water, while others right next to them were doing laundry or scattering the ashes and bodies of their loved ones.

With Varanasi being one of the most religious place to die, millions of people are cremated every year and their ashes are strewn about the water. And it’s all open for anyone’s eyes to view. It’s beautiful in a way because it allowed me to think about the idea of a natural life cycle and acceptance of death, however coming from the US, it was extremely difficult to watch bodies be set on fire and then continue to watch copses burn into nothing. The ritual itself is a charming yet catastrophic experience. Plumes of dark smoke would drift above the sacred river, while bodies of animals, children and others who aren’t cremated would be drown in the the river, yet locals would be bathing and brushing their teeth right next to all of it. The whole experience shocked me. It appalled me. It intrigued me. It disgusted me. Yet, there was a strange and inexplicable beauty to it all.

Our boat paddler pointed out some temples, ceremonies and the massive water tanks on the side of the river. He explained how during monsoon season when the Ganges swells, the city of Varanasi stores the water in the water holding tanks, filters it, and distributes it out to a majority of the community. Ok, I think I might be sick! For locals, by touching and drinking the water, they are thought to be cleansed of all their sins, but I could do nothing more than try to not vomit right then and there. To think that I’ve had chai tea flavored with water that once contained human remains, people’s dirty laundry, trash, and spit got the best of me. I know… I allowed my mind to wander to the extreme but I couldn’t help it. I was impressed with their water storage capabilities, but  I myself would have been better off not knowing all the details. Soon after that conversation, we floated upon a dead goat dressed in a raggedy old t-shirt that had most likely been sacrificed.  The sacrificed animals are sunk with a large rock placed over them, but this stone didn’t stay put. I asked the boat driver if he’s ever gotten sick from drinking the water and he replied, “Of course not. It’s what makes us pure. It’s holy water.”

By the time we got off the boat, there were huge colorful swaths of clothing laid about on the ghats following down to the river. This is how most of the local’s clothes dry from the morning wash. Upon walking back toward the city center, we passed several women in colorful silks, gold jewelry and bangles decorating their skin, and their long braided hair falling along their spines. There was such a unique, ravishing beauty in the midst of this strange, poverty ridden, chaotic area that was all too much for me to make sense of.

We spent about one month in India before departing and I must say that the country is entirely too rich in history and culture for me to have truly gotten a grasp of the day to day life, the beliefs and the culture. I will admit that there were times that I wanted to get away from it all (as sections of the trip in India were disgusting and overwhelming) but looking back, I had an experience of a lifetime and I’m fortunate to have experienced Varanasi when thousands of Hindu’s dream of visiting this place and may never get the chance.

Offline (no Internet required):

• GoodReader – An offline html/doc/pdf reader and my #1 app. I have 3-4 different websites backed up on my iPhone, along with countless Lonely Planet pdf files. It’s because of this app that I don’t travel with a guidebook.
• Currencies – My personal favorite currency convertor (except that it doesn’t include Syrian pounds and Lao Kip)
• Babelingo – A travel phrase book with 300+ phrases in 11 languages (but still no Arabic…).
• MotionX GPS – An offline GPS application. When I know I have an upcoming bus or train ride, I often store the destinations as gps waypoints so I can monitor how much longer I have on the journey.
• gUnit – The most comprehensive Unit Convertor for the iPhone
• Your favorite time-wasting game: My current favorites are Catan, Spades Classic, Adikus’ Backgammon and Lux DLX

Online:

• Kayak – The easiest way to check flight prices on your iPhone
• Flight Status – Great interface for monitoring/tracking flights
• Skype – Great for a quick and cheap call home when you find free wifi
• Tweetie 2 – My personal favorite iPhone Twitter client (the latest version supports geotagging tweets)

MERRY CHRISTMAS! HAPPY HANUKKAH! HAPPY HOLIDAYS!

Sent with love,
Chris and Amy

The largest and best preserved hippodrome in the world...

Missiles (or rockets) on the highway, as seen from our rear window

Walking back to the car, I realized how much tragedy, aggression, despair, and loss these people have gone through. Yes, they may support all of Hezbollah’s actions, but it’s my understanding that they put their trust in the group because it’s their first line of defense to keep themselves, their family and their property safe. I understand there are two sides to every story and I am still not convinced as to who is right or wrong but I will say that it was an interesting experience that puts things in a new light.

As I walked home, I wondered what a girls sleepover would consist of here in Syria with this conservative Muslim family? Would I need to wear a headscarf all night? Would I not be able to interact with Chris? Would I be required to eat with the women only? Would I unknowingly offend the family from my ignorance of Muslim sleepover etiquette? Where would I go to even find that detailed of information???

The next evening came quite quickly and when I arrived at their door they greeted me and ushered me in giving me tea and food. I was still a guest so I ate with Chris and the girl’s father, but normally, the men and women would eat separately. Once the girls saw I was finished, they signaled for me to come into the next room where all the women were gathered so that we could begin the festivities for the evening. They didn’t dare enter the room where the men were eating unless they were bringing us tea or coffee.

When I walked into the next room, they pointed to a corner where there were several floor cushions on a persian rug saying that this would be my bed for the night. I dropped my small overnight bag and sat down only to have Safa beg that I join her in the kitchen. Amira covered my eyes as I walked through their doorway and into the kitchen. Their mother was trailing close behind us. When Amira finally uncovered my eyes, Safa was standing in front of me holding a beautiful cake. “I made this especially for you” she said with a smile on her face that extended from one side of her headscarf to the other. By this time in the evening I was stuffed but she was so happy to serve it for me that I couldn’t resist acting excited to eat it. We brought the cake into the “sleeping room” and Safa served me a slice that could feed a small army. Their hospitality was so good in fact that Amira pulled out her beloved sweets and piled my plate with chocolate and candy bars after having unwrapped them all. Their mother then got in on the fun and poured two snack-sized bags of potato chips on my plate to ensure I wouldn’t go to sleep hungry. Ugh. Too. Much. Food.

I asked if they would be eating the cake with me but they said no, it was ALL for me. With grins on their faces, they sat there watching me take my first few bites. While I was eating, they began pulling their jewelry out showing me their favorite pieces. When they heard I had two sisters, they willing departed with two necklaces that they insisted I give to my sisters upon my return home. As the night grew later, we changed into our pajamas and the girls took off their head scarves. This was the first time that I had seen their long dark hair. It is common in their religion that all women wear headscarves covering their hair, ears and necks only to be exposed to other women and their husbands. After, we played dress up and I let them decorate me with their jewelry and headscarves. We laughed like we were 13 again!

Finally, we turned off the lights and talked from our places on the floor. There was a sudden stir in the next room and within seconds the girls both had already put on their headscarves. Their father walked through the dark room just as Amira had finished wrapping her scarf around her face. I was shocked at how strict it was, yet very impressed that they could put their scarves on so quickly. After their dad returned back through the room, the girls took their headscarves off again and we all began to giggle. It was a wonderful night! The last words the two Muslim girls spoke to me before I drifted to sleep where “Good night Amy. Hopefully you will dream about Syria because we dream of America. Welcome. We love you sister.”

• Many people in Syria speak at least some English and if they do not, they are extremely helpful in finding someone who does.
• Syria, in my opinion, has one of the most friendly, inviting and EXTREMELY hospitable cultures in the world. They are great at teaching foreigners about their culture and traditions.
• Syria is very inexpensive, but still provides the same quality of food, accommodations, sites as many other countries in the region.
• Syria accepts student cards (ISIC) giving students very low entrance prices ($0.20-0.30) on touristy sites. Even as a non-student, the entrance fees are very low ($3-4 USD).
• It is illegal to beg in Syria, so the only “hassle” you’ll get on the street is people wanting you to stop, have a tea and chat with them about your trip.
• Contrary to popular belief, the Syrian people are very good at differentiating people from their government. They are highly accepting of Americans as individuals despite that they are less than impressed with our government.

Syria is an intriguing country that does not get enough recognition for its amazing culture, people, and traditions. On this trip, we’ve traveled through 10 countries, and Syria is one of my top two. While I recommend Syria so strongly, if you have more than a few weeks, I would recommend you visit one of its neighbors (Jordan, Lebanon, Turkey) as well. However if you only have enough time to visit one country in the region, I would definitely recommend Syria be the country. It is a hidden gem amongst its Middle Eastern counterparts. I can guarantee that anyone who goes will be pleasantly surprised at how welcoming, friendly, and magical the country is.

Our Audience

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.

Inside a Classroom

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.

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.

• 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:

Picture Found From the BBC: This cow could not stand without the Maasai's help

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

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.