Before I headed for Kenya this Christmas I was asked by the Camara Kenya hub staff to bring with me a good multi-meter and a set of professional screwdrivers suitable for laptop repair. Without going into the exact details I had an utterly frantic time just before traveling owing to a combination of bad planning, career chaos, financial challenges and voluntary commitments. Thankfully despite all this I was able to pick up the multi-meter and toolkit thanks to the generous donation of a friend.
The main reason the Camara Kenya staff asked for these tools is not because they could not afford them but rather because it is extremely difficult to buy good quality tools in the developing world. There is lots of cheap, poor quality tools available but they rarely last long. I realised that it is an important issue going forward. We should support the hubs in acquiring good quality tools.
It has been extremely hot out here since I arrived. Hotter than I have ever experienced before in Kenya. About 5 days ago just before I traveled to Lamu(an island off the north east coast of Kenya) I opened my laptop and almost immediately noticed that it was extremely warm in one corner of the screen.
Suddenly the screen went blank and the distinctive smell of burning rubber filled the air. I quickly turned the machine off and grimly thought of the consequences. My computer was now unusable and would have to be carried around as a completely useless extra bit of baggage for the rest of the trip. Thankfully I regularly backup everything so I had no worries about data loss.
If this had happened to me in Ireland I honestly would strongly think that this was the end of the road for this laptop. Burning rubber smells is not a good sign!
The night before I left for Lamu I told one of the Camara volunteers about my woes. He asked me a couple of questions about what lights were going on etc and what sounds the machine was making. When he heard my answers he reassured me that the laptop was repairable once he got it back to the hub.
His confidence reassured me although a part of me was saying that he was just giving me false hope.
The following day the same volunteer asked for the laptop and the last thing I saw and heard before grabbing the bus to Lamu was a bunch of volunteers huddled over the machine busily talking to one another in Kiswahili. I left the hub genuinely wondering was I making a mistake leaving a 1000 euro laptop in the hands of the volunteers....
A few days later when I arrived back in Mombasa the volunteer held out my laptop to me saying it had been repaired. A wire connecting the webcam had short circuited and so they had to remove it and so my computer had no webcam but otherwise it was working fine.
I turned it on and to my amazement the computer worked fine. They told me that as soon as the model of the computer I had became more available in Kenya they would repair the webcam with a 'spare' part. At the moment the model I had was not freely available.
It dawned on me that second hand equipment in Africa is essential for spares. Brand new equipment is actually a bad idea because if it breaks its hard to get essential spares. And believe me, it does not matter how new the equipment is it will break out here.
Camara has not run a 'laptop' repair course in Kenya. The volunteers have acquired these skills from a deep familiarity with using computers in their own environment and learning how to handle problems accordingly.
Its exactly what we want to see happening in the hub. Even at this stage in its short evolution highly skilled technicians are emerging with skills that can earn them a living and also support our expanding schools program. We need to not just get computers into schools and train teachers in ICT, we also need to develop a highly competent maintenance team to support the growing number of schools.
Another wonderful aspect to this short story is they used the tools I had brought from Ireland to repair my machine!
Thursday 24 December 2009
Wednesday 23 December 2009
Disability in Africa
It suffices to day that if you have a disability of any sort in the developed world life can be tough. If you have a disability in the developing world life can truly become a nightmare.
I have just come back from Lamu where I met a family(a German man and an Irish woman) passionately interested in building a school for people with disabilities integrated with a school for able bodied people on Manda island (just off Lamu). They have some funding and want to engage with Camara on the technical aspects of the project - everything from computers to networking and the supply of power (could somebody please invent an easy way to generate power for an island community in the developing world!).
Part of the reason the family are so passionate about building this school is their 25 years of experience living in Africa witnessing how awful life can be for somebody with a disability. Some of the stories included children being burned (to remove the devil from them), children being tied to a stake all day as you might do to a dog and much, much worse (so bad were some of the stories that I honestly cannot write them down here).
Amazingly they excused these awful acts on the basis of people being uneducated, superstitious and scared of the afterlife! This made me realise in a very direct way why education is so important in Africa. In fact I genuinely believe that ALL interventions in the developing world have to involve education or you are just wasting your time and valuable resources.
The wonderful thing about technology these days is that it can transform a persons life if it is used properly. A wonderful example of this is how Stuart Mangan was able to participate in life because of his ability to connect to a computer with his voice. Stuart had about the most extreme form of spinal injury that left him paralysed from the neck downwards and necessitated him using a ventilator. And yet through his voice he could use email, check his bills, text his friends, do research via the web, video conference his family and so on....
Wouldn't it be wonderful if these same tools were made available to people with disability in the developing world?
Well, this goal is not too far away. In Ubuntu (the free open source operating system we use in Camara) there is an accessible section being developed by concerned and brilliant programmers from all around the world.
As this part of Ubuntu evolves, so will expertise on its usefulness develop here in the hub. And one perspective will ultimately help the other.
I think it would be marvelous if Camara technology and people could drive the accessibility agenda in Africa....
****
When I was in Kenya during the summer I met a boxer called Dick 'Tiger' Murunga who at the age of 17, won a bronze medal in the welterweight division in the '72 Olympics. In 2002 Dick started developing health problems in his knees (probably due to over training as a boxer) and is now confined to a wheelchair. Since then he has been campaigning for the rights of people with disabilities in Kenya.
Earlier this year he was putting together a proposal for a huge accessible campus just north of Mombasa that included a sports center for Paraolympians, a hospital, a conference center and a resort for people with disabilities. The idea is to essentially allow people with disabilities to travel to Kenya in order to create awareness around the core issues people face here.
Things have moved on since then. Land has been acquired, funds are coming in and the plan is to start building the facility in the middle of next year. Check out the website:
http://www.dt72.org/
Dick is an extremely passionate man. He is also a real 'fighter' and I have no doubt that if anyone can realise this ambitious project he can.
If the project goes ahead, Camara will have an accessible lab on the campus.
I have just come back from Lamu where I met a family(a German man and an Irish woman) passionately interested in building a school for people with disabilities integrated with a school for able bodied people on Manda island (just off Lamu). They have some funding and want to engage with Camara on the technical aspects of the project - everything from computers to networking and the supply of power (could somebody please invent an easy way to generate power for an island community in the developing world!).
Part of the reason the family are so passionate about building this school is their 25 years of experience living in Africa witnessing how awful life can be for somebody with a disability. Some of the stories included children being burned (to remove the devil from them), children being tied to a stake all day as you might do to a dog and much, much worse (so bad were some of the stories that I honestly cannot write them down here).
Amazingly they excused these awful acts on the basis of people being uneducated, superstitious and scared of the afterlife! This made me realise in a very direct way why education is so important in Africa. In fact I genuinely believe that ALL interventions in the developing world have to involve education or you are just wasting your time and valuable resources.
The wonderful thing about technology these days is that it can transform a persons life if it is used properly. A wonderful example of this is how Stuart Mangan was able to participate in life because of his ability to connect to a computer with his voice. Stuart had about the most extreme form of spinal injury that left him paralysed from the neck downwards and necessitated him using a ventilator. And yet through his voice he could use email, check his bills, text his friends, do research via the web, video conference his family and so on....
Wouldn't it be wonderful if these same tools were made available to people with disability in the developing world?
Well, this goal is not too far away. In Ubuntu (the free open source operating system we use in Camara) there is an accessible section being developed by concerned and brilliant programmers from all around the world.
As this part of Ubuntu evolves, so will expertise on its usefulness develop here in the hub. And one perspective will ultimately help the other.
I think it would be marvelous if Camara technology and people could drive the accessibility agenda in Africa....
****
When I was in Kenya during the summer I met a boxer called Dick 'Tiger' Murunga who at the age of 17, won a bronze medal in the welterweight division in the '72 Olympics. In 2002 Dick started developing health problems in his knees (probably due to over training as a boxer) and is now confined to a wheelchair. Since then he has been campaigning for the rights of people with disabilities in Kenya.
Earlier this year he was putting together a proposal for a huge accessible campus just north of Mombasa that included a sports center for Paraolympians, a hospital, a conference center and a resort for people with disabilities. The idea is to essentially allow people with disabilities to travel to Kenya in order to create awareness around the core issues people face here.
Things have moved on since then. Land has been acquired, funds are coming in and the plan is to start building the facility in the middle of next year. Check out the website:
http://www.dt72.org/
Dick is an extremely passionate man. He is also a real 'fighter' and I have no doubt that if anyone can realise this ambitious project he can.
If the project goes ahead, Camara will have an accessible lab on the campus.
Tuesday 22 December 2009
Back in Kenya for Christmas 09
Ten days ago I arrived back in Kenya. This has been the first opportunity since then to write about the experience so far. A lot has been going on....
To begin with I must admit, that part of the reason I have written nothing down is because the blog entry before this is a difficult one to follow. 2009 has been a difficult year for me and for many great people that I know. Stuart Mangan's passing affected me deeply (and still does) and the Camara volunteer Robert Stringer, who was killed on Zanzibar in August shook me to the core. There were other things as well but this is not an appropriate forum to discuss them.
I needed to come out here for a couple of reasons. Firstly and most importantly, it is really important that I take a break and take some time to work out where I am going. My career and income means are on a knife edge right now and with this recession looking like its here to stay I face a difficult time financially over the next few months. I need time in a different environment to work out how to manage this period.
Secondly, Roberts death raised an extremely challenging question in my mind:
Is Camara worth it?
I have had many conversations with people since his tragic passing - all reassuringly positive encouraging me and the organisation to continue with its work - but niggling doubts linger within me. When you are intimately involved in something like Camara, I imagine these lingering doubts are not unusual. Nonetheless they trouble me and I want to address them head on.
So coming out to Kenya is also a way to really test my resolve and my belief in what we are doing. I hope to answer the above question once and for all by the time I get back to Ireland early January. I need the question answered because it will help with my decision making for the future.
The next couple of entries will begin that process.
To begin with I must admit, that part of the reason I have written nothing down is because the blog entry before this is a difficult one to follow. 2009 has been a difficult year for me and for many great people that I know. Stuart Mangan's passing affected me deeply (and still does) and the Camara volunteer Robert Stringer, who was killed on Zanzibar in August shook me to the core. There were other things as well but this is not an appropriate forum to discuss them.
I needed to come out here for a couple of reasons. Firstly and most importantly, it is really important that I take a break and take some time to work out where I am going. My career and income means are on a knife edge right now and with this recession looking like its here to stay I face a difficult time financially over the next few months. I need time in a different environment to work out how to manage this period.
Secondly, Roberts death raised an extremely challenging question in my mind:
Is Camara worth it?
I have had many conversations with people since his tragic passing - all reassuringly positive encouraging me and the organisation to continue with its work - but niggling doubts linger within me. When you are intimately involved in something like Camara, I imagine these lingering doubts are not unusual. Nonetheless they trouble me and I want to address them head on.
So coming out to Kenya is also a way to really test my resolve and my belief in what we are doing. I hope to answer the above question once and for all by the time I get back to Ireland early January. I need the question answered because it will help with my decision making for the future.
The next couple of entries will begin that process.
Thursday 24 September 2009
Unfinished Symphony
Many years ago, whilst travelling though Northern India, I met a man who helped me partly understand one of the great human mysteries that had haunted me since I was a teenager.
I have always struggled with the concept of human suffering and the need for it. If I am honest I have been unable to reconcile it with the existence of a loving God. It would seem that the universe we live in is essentially a cruel place where suffering is built in, especially human suffering given that we are ‘conscious’ of it.
I cannot even remember the man’s name at this stage but I will always remember the wonderful metaphor he gave me of how he saw suffering reconciled with love.
Imagine suffering represented as the digging of a deep hole. It’s a dark place, it is underground and it is effort. The further you dig the harder it is to get back to the light. It is easy to get lost in the darkness.
However, right next to the hole is a growing mound of loose soil where seeds and water and heat have easier access. With this soil you can build and shape things, you can climb the mound to get a better view and you can get closer to the light in the sky. You can always fill the hole in again only this time the soil may be more fertile and more things can grow…
When there is suffering, the potential to heal is also created.
When there is terrible suffering, a very deep rent is created that may take a long time to heal but if you look closely you can see tiny seeds of hope and healing around the rent. In time these seeds, if nurtured, will heal the suffering and something new will be born.
Creative energy when used to heal can be thought of as love…
****
Gustav Mahler is probably my favourite composer. His music is extremely intense and often violent in expression whilst also being sublimely gentle at times and is music you cannot just listen to in a background way. It demands your attention and is utterly uncompromising in these demands. Mahler was an extremely complex individual and part of my fascination with him is how these complexities manifested themselves in his music.
In 1906, over about 4 weeks, in what he called ‘a white heat of inspiration’, he composed the 8th symphony. It is considered one of the greatest ever feats of human creativity requiring over 1000 performers. It is divided into two distinct parts. The first part is based around the ancient Latin prayer, ‘Veni, Creator Spiritus’ and essentially calls on the ‘creative’ spirit to visit our souls. The second part is centred on the redemption scene in Goethe’s ‘Faust’. (The Faust legend is, to many, the archetypal myth representing the human desire to ‘explore’ the universe while disregarding any consequences. Faust sells his soul to the Devil so that he can experience all a human being can experience. In the end however he is unknowingly redeemed by love).
The essential message in the symphony is that human creativity in its highest form is indistinguishable from love. The symphony itself is an act of expression that beautifully reflects that.
Between 1903 and 1904 Gustav Mahler wrote the infamous 6th symphony. It later came to be known as the tragic symphony prompted by the comments that Mahler himself made about the music before it was performed. He claimed the music was inspired by the premonition of three hammer blows of fate which were to befall him ‘the last of which fells the hero as a tree is felled’.
In the final movement he orchestrated three colossal ‘hammer blows’ to represent his premonition.
In the year following its premiere, his daughter died, he lost his job as the Vienna Philharmonic conductor and he was diagnosed with a fatal heart disease.
Mahler later revised the symphony and removed the third hammer blow to superstitiously avoid facing ‘fate’.
The symphony was performed for the rest of his life with the third hammer blow removed.
****
A few days before August 7th 2009 I received a text on my mobile phone which pretty much said the following:
On August 7th 2009 at 34 minutes and 56 seconds past 12 the time and date will read:
12.34.56 07/08/09
123456789
This will not happen again for another 1000 years.
****
About a week prior to August 7th I rang Stuart Mangan. We had a great conversation where we discussed various aspects of the work we had been doing together. He was in great form and he mentioned to me his interest in creating an interactive pressure mat that would help him manage the ongoing problem of bedsores.
After the conversation I spoke with a good friend who has great knowledge and expertise in the rehabilitation field and he recommended a few links and companies to me.
I sent the links to Stuart hoping he would follow up to see if they were of interest.
Two days later he sent me a fantastic reply which was full of enthusiasm and energy. He also attached a really well crafted note on some other inventions he had thought up which he believed would improve his quality of life. What was incredible about the note was the attention to detail in terms of formatting, underlining and bolding titles etc. He had done all this under voice control and the note was a fantastic example of how far he had come with the voice recognition software.
I sent him a reply encouraging him to write more because what he had written in the note was really inspiring. One of the projects we were working on was for Stuart to start his own blog with his reflections and insights on life…..
It was not to be.
****
My son Osian, was over in Ireland around the first week in August. He comes over around this time every year and it’s probably our most important time together just simply because it’s much longer than a typical visit to Wales. It’s amazing how much your attitude to children changes as you get older. I never thought I would be a Dad when I was younger and now that I am, I cannot imagine anything more important or fulfilling.
On August 7th, we decided we would drive to Dingle to spend some time in a good friend’s holiday home there. Each year we travel down to Dingle in the vain hope that we might get to travel to the Skelligs. It’s a place neither of us has been to and I wanted to go to an extraordinary place together so we could have a lifelong shared memory as father and son. Unfortunately we had failed on every previous occasion due to poor weather. It looked like this trip was going to be no different – the rain was bucketing down on the way to Dingle.
I was telling Osian about the extraordinary experience I had had in Kenya this year with Camara. We discussed the possibility that he might come out to Africa with me some summer. He said he would love to.
I then took a phone call from a colleague in Camara who told me that it was urgent that I speak with her. I pulled the car over to the side of the road my heart beating wildly. When you send over 80 people to Africa as volunteers every year there is always a chance something very serious could happen. The worst thing possible had happened. Robert Stringer, a 26 year old Camara volunteer, had been killed in Zanzibar just off the east coast of Tanzania.
It is hard to describe how shocked and distraught I was when I heard this news. Your first thoughts go out to the family of the victim as you wonder how they are best supported at a time like this. As the tragic news sinks in, a deep sadness takes over. You suddenly find it extremely difficult to place the event in the context of any kind of spiritual belief. You think of the generosity of spirit that drove the person to travel out to the developing world to give their time and expertise to people there. You think of the effort it took to raise the resources to do that in these challenging times. You think of the young Camara team supporting that decision and effort. You think of the worrying family during all this preparation only to have their worst fears realised. You think this person is somebody’s son, somebody’s brother, somebody’s friend.
After taking the call I looked at Osian wondering how I disguise my emotions. The rain was pouring down on the car and as it happened we had a fabulous view to our left. I stared out at the beautiful view reflecting on what I had heard. The juxtaposition of the beautiful side of nature outside the window and the awful side of human nature that had taken Roberts life prematurely was stark.
We were alone and since we do not get to spend much quality time together my first instinct was to not tell him anything and just battle on given the positive conversation about Camara we had just been having. Is it right to share such terrible news with a 13 year old? He looked back at me and he could see that I was upset.
‘You just got bad news didn’t you’ he asked me.
I nodded.
‘You need to grieve Dad’
I looked at him astonished. Where on earth at his age had he learned wisdom like that? I felt immensely proud at that moment that he was able to display such wonderful empathy.
So I told him what had happened.
When he had heard that a volunteer had died whilst in Africa he asked me a very challenging question:
‘Do you think that will put people off going next year?’
What he seemed to be basically saying was that his initial enthusiasm for travelling with me to Africa had diminished. I was struck by how subtle and sensitively put the question was.
I only realised much later that he was actually asking me not to go to Africa next year because he was worried about my safety but that’s another story in the brewing….
In any case, the question made me think. Should we stop sending volunteers to Africa because of what has just happened or should we carry on regardless. Then the ultimate question came to me like a hammer blow….
Was Camara worth it?
****
We arrived in Dingle and I got another phone call. It was from Stuart Mangans brother.
Stuart had passed away earlier that day.
I was utterly shocked. Two days previous we had had that marvellous exchange around his inventions. 12 hours later apparently, Stuart fell into a coma from an advanced chest infection. He died the following day.
I had intended to travel to see Stuart the following Friday (the 14th August) to show him the pictures from the Camara trip. He had been looking forward to seeing them.
I put the phone down and looked across at Osian.
I told him what I had heard wondering how many tragic stories a 13 year old could take.
‘Its strange that you have got so much bad news in one day’ he mused.
And with that word a ‘strange’ feeling of peace came over me. I cannot describe it any better than that. I suddenly started thinking of the last note that Stuart had written to me. The note that pretty much said that he was not giving up despite the circumstances. That he was going to push on and take on the challenges in his life with passion and intelligence and creativity. In a ‘strange’ kind of way that is what I needed to hear.
Camara had to continue…
****
Two days later Osian and I along with a good friend were on our way to the Skelligs. Despite the awful weather heading down to Dingle, remarkably it had cleared up rapidly and the trip was on.
The Skelligs are about 12km off the south west Kerry coast. Even on a ‘calm’ day the boat ride out is quite an ordeal. The two islands rise majestically out of the water on the approach to them. The smaller Skellig houses around 50,000 gannets (making it the second largest gannet colony in the world – the largest is in Scotland somewhere). The larger island, Skellig Michael houses an extremely well preserved 6th century monastery near the summit (over 220meters above sea level).
The boats need to dock in a precarious little inlet with huge steep slippery rocks as sides. When we got off the boat Osian looked around in awe.
‘Gosh, I feel like I am on the filmset of King Kong when they arrive on Skull Island for the first time’
I remembered feeling exactly the same way the first time I saw that film. That incredible sense of anticipation of what was behind the wall on the island. Osians sense of anticipation made me feel that way albeit briefly.
It made me long to have that childish sense of wonder and awe again.
To get to see the monastery you need to climb about 500 steep steps that wind their way up the rock. When you get to the top the views are simply breathtaking.
Before you enter the monastery area you pass through the gardens that were cultivated by the monks over the hundreds of years that the monastery was active (it officially closed in the 13th century). The 12 monks or so at a time used seaweed, egg shells etc to create terraces of cultivatable land on the side of the rock. There is no source of fresh water on the island so they had to create water catchment pools and aqueduct channels for their water supply.
The monastery was established in this wildest of places because it was as far west as one could go in terms of the known world at the time. This meant that the occupants were nearer God by being so far from ‘normal’ humanity. It was an extraordinary choice for people to make. An amazing example of how the human spirit can prevail in the most arduous of circumstances.
I was again reminded of Stuart and how he had chosen to endure despite his circumstances.
Just after the garden you go through a little stone tunnel to enter the monastery itself. Osian went first and I followed. Being smaller than me (only slightly these days!) he navigated the little tunnel easily. It took me a little longer. I found him staring at the monastery on the other side. He looked at me.
‘This is a holy place Dad’
What does it take for a 13 year old to want to utter these words?
I can only think that with that highly tuned sense of wonder he could empathise somehow with the extraordinary decision for the monks to ‘live on the edge of the known world’ so they could be closer to God. Perhaps this is an instinct all children have but that gets lost as we get older.
****
Osian went home the week after we visited the Skelligs. The two of us were still talking about the incredible experience that we had had there when I dropped him off in Wales.
The day he left I began to have repetitive nightmares about what had happened to Robert in Zanzibar. Without the focus of looking after Osian (or perhaps his protection I am still not sure) the trauma of what I felt on hearing about Robert’s death began to catch up with me.
The day I was dropping him back to Wales was the day when a removal service was held for Stuart in Mount Merrion. I was unaware of it at the time but Stuarts Dad read out the last email exchange Stuart and I had had together at the service. He did this to demonstrate how positive Stuart was 12 hours before he slipped into a coma and two days before he died.
It turns out that one of my colleagues in UCD was at the memorial service. The following day he flew out to the States and rang me from there to tell me about the service and the reading of the email exchange between Stuart and I. It was incredibly consoling to me to hear how inspired my colleague was by this.
Once again it felt like a message from Stuart not to give up.
****
Friday came, the day I was supposed to visit Stuart, and I headed down to Cork for his funeral. I ended up travelling down with a group of women that knew Stuart and his family in different ways. We had good fun on the way down and it was a lovely way of journeying to his final resting place.
One of my strongest memories of the day was some quotes that were printed on the missal for the mass. One of the quotes was from John O Donoghue (a good friend of John Moriarty):
Let the silent tears flow
And when your eyes clear
Perhaps you will glimpse
How your eternal child
Has become your unseen angel
Who parents your heart
And persuades the moon
To send new gifts ashore.
And another from the Book of Judith in the Old Testament:
Your deed of hope will never be forgotten
By those who tell of the might of God
You are the highest honour of our race (Judith 13: 18-20)
When his body was finally laid to rest a dove was released to symbolise the soul flight. I watched the dove for awhile. It flew to a nearby tree and stayed watching everyone from a high perch. John Moriarty had once said to me that a soul can linger on in the physical world for awhile if need be.
For me anyway, I was glad of his presence.
****
I got back from Cork late after the funeral. I still intended to travel to London. Some friends of mine were getting married there and one of the reasons I had arranged to travel to London that weekend was to attend the wedding whilst getting more time to spend with Stuart.
I woke up early the following morning and seriously considered not travelling. I had had very little sleep and it is quite a long trip to the airport from where I live.
In addition Robert Stringers body was being repatriated from Zanzibar and I was concerned that should anything go wrong I would be better off in Ireland. His removal was planned for the Monday after the weekend with the funeral on Tuesday morning.
In the end I decided to travel. I owed it to my friends to be present at their wedding. One of them was Indian and we had met through the turbulent time in Media Lab Europe. In fact, she reckoned that she had met her future husband through that connection to me. It was important that I was there.
With all that had happened over the previous few months I had never actually checked where in London the wedding was. London is a big place but I was amazed to find that the wedding was to be held in a place called the Amadeus centre almost next door to Stuarts flat!
In fact, the wedding was not far from Garway road.
I got off the plane in London with the soul intention of finding a place to stay and sleeping for a few hours before the wedding started (which was in the afternoon).
Remarkably, whilst I was getting off the train in Paddington I met my wonderful youngest brother who was also travelling to the wedding. We had neglected to tell one another of this fact and yet we were on the same plane and train without seeing one another.
I then got to spend some serious quality time with him which is rare these days given our respective responsibilities.
Phil is somebody I deeply care about and so this little gift in its own right was something very precious indeed.
The wedding was a beautiful event full of positive vibrant moments that felt like a little oasis in all the tragedy that had happened. It sat between the two funerals as a simple but singular reminder that the cycle of life goes on.
****
I arrived back into Dublin (as it happens on exactly the same flight that Phil was on) on the Sunday evening. Robert’s body had arrived back from Zanzibar the previous day and preparations were being made for the removal the following evening.
It turned out that Robert’s family lived in Kilcoole very close to where I live in Greystones.
The following evening I arrived into the Church in Kilcoole. It was a small modest little place that was utterly packed with people.
Nothing can prepare you for the sadness one feels at a time like this. I honestly have not felt sadness like it ever before.
The priest did a lovely eloquent job of acknowledging the tragedy, comforting the family and honouring Roberts’s short life.
After the service I went to the parents to offer them my condolences.
Roberts mum gripped my hand saying:
‘Please continue doing what you are doing. The only thing that gives us strength is that Robert was doing charity work before he died’
I have no idea where she got the strength to say these words. They are probably the most powerful words I have ever heard. I was utterly humbled by their power.
****
The following day Robert’s funeral took place. Cormac Lynch (the CEO of Camara) paid a glowing tribute to Robert thanking him for his great contribution as a Camara volunteer to the people he had served in Tanzania. It was a very difficult thing to do and I was immensely proud of Cormacs courage and compassion. One of the things that Robert hoped to do was to organise a music concert in Tanzania as a fundraiser for the projects he worked in. By all accounts he was a great guitar player.
A large group from Camara were in attendance and we all went up the family house after his burial.
Once again Robert’s parents urged us to continue the work of Camara and to do so in his memory and honour.
****
I was struck by the plans Robert had to organise the music concert in Tanzania. Music can be a tremendously unifying force – a truly universal language that everybody can participate in and enjoy. All the great composers appreciated this. Gustav Mahler actually believed that music was so powerful it allowed you influence fate.
By removing the third hammer blow in his 6th symphony Mahler attempted to change his fate. He continued in that vain for the rest of his life. All the great composers he respected prior to him had never got beyond composing a ninth symphony (Beethoven, Bruckner, Schubert) and so he named his 9th symphony ‘Das Leid von der Erde’ – ‘The Song of the World’ rather than number it. When he did finally compose a 9th symphony he died shortly afterwards. He left, like his great composer compatriots, an unfinished 10th symphony.
Do numbers matter? Who knows….but that strange text I got highlighting the importance of August 7th 2009 had a strange resonance with the events that day.
****
To some the number 8 is the symbol of eternity. There are also 8 beatitudes, 8 notes to an octave, 8 millennium goals, 8 bits in a byte, 8 spokes in the Dharmacakra and August is the 8th month. So here are 8 seeds of hope that I have come to notice since Stuart and Robert passed away:
One of my former professors rang me a few days after Stuart had died. He had come across another person in a similar situation to Stuart and was wondering would the family be interested in arranging a ‘technology transplant’ to this person. In other words would it be possible to literally pass the computer and technology we used with Stuart to this man and so continue the legacy. I asked the family would they be interested and they were. Stuart, as was his wish, had donated his organs. This seemed like a lovely way to mirror that gesture through technology.
I ended up meeting the software company that donated the speech recognition software system to Stuart. They had been filming Stuart as a ‘power user’ of his system the week before he passed away. They showed the film as a work in progress and again the abiding message was Stuart saying that he was going to battle on despite everything. The film will be used to promote the use of the software in the area of disability.
The BBC had also been doing a documentary on Stuart. They contacted me and asked would I help finishing off what had been done so far. I said I would.
We had been building up a network of people who were keen to stay involved with the project. A number of people want to continue the work in Stuart’s memory including a young man who had been working on developing a unique head rest of Stuart. He wants to continue that work based on the design insights Stuart had left him with.
We had developed a simple system for Stuart that allowed him text his friends using his mobile phone. The same system is used by a friend of mine who has cerebral palsy. He is utterly delighted with it.
Two colleagues from Camara got engaged in East Africa two weeks after Robert passed away. They had met in Africa a few years ago and would probably not have met had Camara not been in existence.
Camara will continue its work in Robert’s memory.
Osian and I finally got to the Skelligs and our relationship has profoundly deepened.
****
I am on page 9 of this note and it feels like an unfinished symphony…..
To Stuart and Robert may you both rest in peace.
Sunday 5 July 2009
Hard Choices
I have often written about how good the medical system out here is and that I would have no problem using these medical services if I happened to get seriously sick. What I have of course neglected to mention is that expert medical care is way beyond the means of the vast majority of people living out here. Thats why its so good for those that can afford it - the private hospitals are nearly empty...
The following story really brought it home to me the really hard choices people have to make when they are faced with a serious medical emergency that they cannot afford.
It turns out that if you need to have a heart operation in Kenya, it is cheaper to fly to India, have the operation there, recuperate in India and then fly back, than to have the operation in one of the 'private' hospitals here.
A Camara colleague's father (based here in Mombasa) had a minor heart attack about 2 months ago. He was recommended to go for an angiogram (a standard test these days in the developed world where a catheter camera is inserted into the coronary arteries via the leg and they are examined for occlusions and disease using the camera together with a CT scan).
He was unable to pay for the operation so he spent the last two months asking friends, family and foundations for the necessary funds to fly to Madras in India and have the operation done there.
In the end with considerable help from the International Lions organisation he raised sufficient funds for himself and his son (my colleague) to travel to India for the operation. Even with the two people flying, it was still less costly than having the operation done here.
They flew out to Madras about two weeks ago.
And then things began to go wrong.
The first problem is that my colleague has serious responsibility here in the digital hub. He was the first employee and effectively founded Camara Kenya, he signs all the cheques and essentially is responsible for all technical operations on the ground here. In a very short space of time he had to delegate a lot of responsibility to people still very new and inexperienced. Inevitably some key responsibilities were going to be missed. In this case,he forgot to make another person a signatory on the Camara account here. Effectively that meant that no-one could sign cheques.
The second problem arose after the angiogram was done. The doctors in India recommended that the father undergo heart surgery rather than the more straight forward angioplasty operation(an operation which essentially involves widening blocked arteries using a balloon and stents supports inserted via the catheter). The gamble had been that only angioplasty would be required as the recovery time is much quicker. My colleague was hoping to be back in Mombasa within 10 days.
As an aside, in an amazing example of the power of technology, my friend emailed me the angiogram scans from India which I forwarded to St Vincents hospital and within a few hours the diagnosis was confirmed. Heart surgery was required. In an ominous sub note, the advice from Vincents was that it would be up to 2 months before a person could fly after undergoing heart surgery.
A week ago my colleagues father underwent quadruple bypass heart surgery - a ten hour operation which without going into the sordid details is an extremely traumatic experience for even the fittest of bodies.
The father has been in ICU all this week and has underwent another emergency operation to drain his lungs after he developed complications breathing after coming off the ventilator. All the while, my poor colleague has been watching the drama unfold around his dad, whilst sleeping in the hospital, in an alien country, utterly helpless to do anything.
We have been ringing one another daily for updates.
And then the final complication. A container of 400 computers is sitting in Mombasa port and needs to be cleared through customs. The only person who can sign a cheque for the container is my colleague in India.
If we do not clear the container quickly, we incur charges that mount by the day.
As I write this the problem remains unresolved. Here is what we have had to do. We have asked my colleague (with all that is going on over in India) to DHL a letter to the bank in Mombasa authorising the transfer of funds to another account so that the container charges can be paid.
The problem is that there is not enough money in the camara account as a couple of cheques are being cleared before money can be transferred. It takes a long time for cheques to be cleared in banks here for understandable reasons.
In the meantime, funds are tight in Ireland. When you send almost 100 people to Africa, which essentially involves paying for 100 flights at about 1000 euros a go you can have cash flow problems. We are in overdraft in Dublin presently.
Despite that, Camara Ireland has transferred some money to my personal account just in case the complicated payment procedure fails (I hope the CEO and board forgive this indiscretion - I feel a little like Father Ted having to justify this large sum of money just 'resting' in my account - but to be honest there was no other way of doing things).
Its all going to be very tight because I leave Mombasa on Wednesday morning.
And so this is what can happen to people here when these hard choices are made. I blame nobody for the mess. Its utterly understandable given the choices people had to make but look at the consequences....
On a positive note the volunteers from Ireland have arrived and training has begun in earnest.
The following story really brought it home to me the really hard choices people have to make when they are faced with a serious medical emergency that they cannot afford.
It turns out that if you need to have a heart operation in Kenya, it is cheaper to fly to India, have the operation there, recuperate in India and then fly back, than to have the operation in one of the 'private' hospitals here.
A Camara colleague's father (based here in Mombasa) had a minor heart attack about 2 months ago. He was recommended to go for an angiogram (a standard test these days in the developed world where a catheter camera is inserted into the coronary arteries via the leg and they are examined for occlusions and disease using the camera together with a CT scan).
He was unable to pay for the operation so he spent the last two months asking friends, family and foundations for the necessary funds to fly to Madras in India and have the operation done there.
In the end with considerable help from the International Lions organisation he raised sufficient funds for himself and his son (my colleague) to travel to India for the operation. Even with the two people flying, it was still less costly than having the operation done here.
They flew out to Madras about two weeks ago.
And then things began to go wrong.
The first problem is that my colleague has serious responsibility here in the digital hub. He was the first employee and effectively founded Camara Kenya, he signs all the cheques and essentially is responsible for all technical operations on the ground here. In a very short space of time he had to delegate a lot of responsibility to people still very new and inexperienced. Inevitably some key responsibilities were going to be missed. In this case,he forgot to make another person a signatory on the Camara account here. Effectively that meant that no-one could sign cheques.
The second problem arose after the angiogram was done. The doctors in India recommended that the father undergo heart surgery rather than the more straight forward angioplasty operation(an operation which essentially involves widening blocked arteries using a balloon and stents supports inserted via the catheter). The gamble had been that only angioplasty would be required as the recovery time is much quicker. My colleague was hoping to be back in Mombasa within 10 days.
As an aside, in an amazing example of the power of technology, my friend emailed me the angiogram scans from India which I forwarded to St Vincents hospital and within a few hours the diagnosis was confirmed. Heart surgery was required. In an ominous sub note, the advice from Vincents was that it would be up to 2 months before a person could fly after undergoing heart surgery.
A week ago my colleagues father underwent quadruple bypass heart surgery - a ten hour operation which without going into the sordid details is an extremely traumatic experience for even the fittest of bodies.
The father has been in ICU all this week and has underwent another emergency operation to drain his lungs after he developed complications breathing after coming off the ventilator. All the while, my poor colleague has been watching the drama unfold around his dad, whilst sleeping in the hospital, in an alien country, utterly helpless to do anything.
We have been ringing one another daily for updates.
And then the final complication. A container of 400 computers is sitting in Mombasa port and needs to be cleared through customs. The only person who can sign a cheque for the container is my colleague in India.
If we do not clear the container quickly, we incur charges that mount by the day.
As I write this the problem remains unresolved. Here is what we have had to do. We have asked my colleague (with all that is going on over in India) to DHL a letter to the bank in Mombasa authorising the transfer of funds to another account so that the container charges can be paid.
The problem is that there is not enough money in the camara account as a couple of cheques are being cleared before money can be transferred. It takes a long time for cheques to be cleared in banks here for understandable reasons.
In the meantime, funds are tight in Ireland. When you send almost 100 people to Africa, which essentially involves paying for 100 flights at about 1000 euros a go you can have cash flow problems. We are in overdraft in Dublin presently.
Despite that, Camara Ireland has transferred some money to my personal account just in case the complicated payment procedure fails (I hope the CEO and board forgive this indiscretion - I feel a little like Father Ted having to justify this large sum of money just 'resting' in my account - but to be honest there was no other way of doing things).
Its all going to be very tight because I leave Mombasa on Wednesday morning.
And so this is what can happen to people here when these hard choices are made. I blame nobody for the mess. Its utterly understandable given the choices people had to make but look at the consequences....
On a positive note the volunteers from Ireland have arrived and training has begun in earnest.
Saturday 4 July 2009
'She has lost all hope'
I was walking from the apartment to the shopping center with a friend of mine via a short cut that is essentially a dusty track that runs parallel to the beach into the back of the center. The weather suddenly changed and it started to absolutely pour rain so we both started to run for shelter.
As I was running, I caught sight of a tiny elderly woman just sitting on the side of the trail staring into space. She was making no effort to move out of the rain and was clutching a plastic bag with some documentation in it. I initially ran past her but something about her stare caused me to pause.
I looked back and she was still sitting there staring into space getting drenched.
I asked my friend to go and talk with her and to encourage her to take some shelter. My friend Susan is a beautiful, sensitive African woman who I knew would be able to speak with the old woman in Kiswahili.
I stood back into an alcove and waited for Susan to return.
About 5 minutes later, Susan returned with tears in here eyes and explained the situation.
'This woman is very ill and has been told to leave her house to bring in some food. She has just spent her money on the drugs she needs to treat her Tuberculosis but she has nothing left. That is the drugs she is clutching....' she said.
I asked why was she not seeking shelter out of the rain if she had TB.
There was a pause. She lowered her head and then looked up with tears running down her cheeks.
'She has lost all hope' Susan said.
The combination of the story, Susan's distress and these five words tore at my heart. You see poverty like this every day here and its impossible to react appropriately to every situation. Sometimes I wonder is there something wrong with me when I do not react to the desperate need more often. You are told by all 'development experts' that you need to focus on higher level intervention when faced with poverty so that you do not create dependency. However as I stared over at the frail old woman sitting on the side of the road I decided to ignore this reasoning and go with my heart. I would do something utterly unsustainable but that might give the woman some hope.
I went into the shopping center with Susan and with her guidance bought some basic groceries: milk, bread, eggs, flour, rice, yogurt, fruit, some cake and a packet of sweets. It cost about 15 euros - an absolute pittance.
I asked Susan to give the lady the food - it just seemed more appropriate that I keep a background role.
I watched as the two woman talked to one another. They held hands in a most gentle way and began to converse. The rain was still pouring down but it did not seem as bad for some reason as the two women ignored it. The smile on both their faces was truly beautiful when the bag of groceries was handed over. Susan then gave the lady 20 schillings for her bus fare home.
They walked hand in hand as they passed by the alcove I was effectively hiding in. Susan then waved goodbye to the old lady who was still smiling.
I know that what I did was not sustainable. I know that next week when I am gone the lady may well be in the exact same situation and who knows if anybody will be there to help. Perhaps though, that is just the way it works. If we all give in small ways and encourage others to do the same we create a safety net of care.
And honestly speaking, if smiles that wonderful could be bought for 15 euros every day I would buy them in abundance.....
Epilogue
The story above happened about 5 days ago and I wasn't going to write it down (mainly because of the criticism I would deservedly face!). However, I just met the old woman again a few minutes ago which made me change my mind... She was walking by the side of the road, near the same shopping center, with a smart shawl on her shoulders and although she looked frail she also looked happy. She recognised me and gave me a big wave and a beaming smile. This one was for free.....
As I was running, I caught sight of a tiny elderly woman just sitting on the side of the trail staring into space. She was making no effort to move out of the rain and was clutching a plastic bag with some documentation in it. I initially ran past her but something about her stare caused me to pause.
I looked back and she was still sitting there staring into space getting drenched.
I asked my friend to go and talk with her and to encourage her to take some shelter. My friend Susan is a beautiful, sensitive African woman who I knew would be able to speak with the old woman in Kiswahili.
I stood back into an alcove and waited for Susan to return.
About 5 minutes later, Susan returned with tears in here eyes and explained the situation.
'This woman is very ill and has been told to leave her house to bring in some food. She has just spent her money on the drugs she needs to treat her Tuberculosis but she has nothing left. That is the drugs she is clutching....' she said.
I asked why was she not seeking shelter out of the rain if she had TB.
There was a pause. She lowered her head and then looked up with tears running down her cheeks.
'She has lost all hope' Susan said.
The combination of the story, Susan's distress and these five words tore at my heart. You see poverty like this every day here and its impossible to react appropriately to every situation. Sometimes I wonder is there something wrong with me when I do not react to the desperate need more often. You are told by all 'development experts' that you need to focus on higher level intervention when faced with poverty so that you do not create dependency. However as I stared over at the frail old woman sitting on the side of the road I decided to ignore this reasoning and go with my heart. I would do something utterly unsustainable but that might give the woman some hope.
I went into the shopping center with Susan and with her guidance bought some basic groceries: milk, bread, eggs, flour, rice, yogurt, fruit, some cake and a packet of sweets. It cost about 15 euros - an absolute pittance.
I asked Susan to give the lady the food - it just seemed more appropriate that I keep a background role.
I watched as the two woman talked to one another. They held hands in a most gentle way and began to converse. The rain was still pouring down but it did not seem as bad for some reason as the two women ignored it. The smile on both their faces was truly beautiful when the bag of groceries was handed over. Susan then gave the lady 20 schillings for her bus fare home.
They walked hand in hand as they passed by the alcove I was effectively hiding in. Susan then waved goodbye to the old lady who was still smiling.
I know that what I did was not sustainable. I know that next week when I am gone the lady may well be in the exact same situation and who knows if anybody will be there to help. Perhaps though, that is just the way it works. If we all give in small ways and encourage others to do the same we create a safety net of care.
And honestly speaking, if smiles that wonderful could be bought for 15 euros every day I would buy them in abundance.....
Epilogue
The story above happened about 5 days ago and I wasn't going to write it down (mainly because of the criticism I would deservedly face!). However, I just met the old woman again a few minutes ago which made me change my mind... She was walking by the side of the road, near the same shopping center, with a smart shawl on her shoulders and although she looked frail she also looked happy. She recognised me and gave me a big wave and a beaming smile. This one was for free.....
Thursday 25 June 2009
Women in Africa
For as long as I have been coming to Africa I have always been struck by the profoundly important role African women play in society here and have been equally astounded about how unacknowledged that role is. Women literally do everything here. You rarely see women sitting around doing nothing.
They are either cooking, looking after children, washing clothes, cleaning houses, sewing, collecting water, working the land, running small enterprises like second hand clothes shops, fruit and vegetable shops etc. The list goes on and on. They truly are the fabric that holds African society together.
And yet more often than not they have no voice, no rights, no place to go if things go wrong in their domestic lives. Oftentimes they are forced to leave school early to look after the home and so go through life with little education unable to get out of the prison they are effectively in. In many parts of Africa, primitive practices like marrying off children as young as 8 years of age still take place. Female circumcision in the rural areas is still practiced. Domestic rape is rampant but more often than not abused women do not speak up for fear of the consequences. And even in some of the more 'advanced' cultures women are literally slaves to whatever a man desires. Systems have been setup that protect themselves from hard challenging questions through the use of draconian punishment for 'dissenters'.
Hence the oppressed women have no means to protest their subjugation for fear of what might happen to them and so the injustice continues.
Its one part of the culture out here that I find extremely difficult to just 'accept'. And in most circumstances just 'accepting' a cultural practice is the right thing to do. It makes for better dialogue between different cultural perspectives which ultimately leads to better understanding from both sides.
In this instance I just see the cultural practice as a form of primitive enslavement and a crass and abusive use of power on the part of men.
I visited a project the day before yesterday which was truly inspiring.
A couple of years ago a group of women got together under the magnificent leadership of a Masai woman called Veronica (I do not know her second name and I am sure that is not her Masai name!) to campaign for womens rights particularly in the rural areas of Kenya. Veronica is now in a wheelchair but battles on regradless. Her organisation is called TEWA.
After many years of hard work (and effectively no funding) they finally managed to convince the Kianda Foundation (a large educational foundation in Kenya) to support their cause.
In about 3 months time the magnificent TEWA training center in the Kilifi district (about an hour north of Mombasa) will open. The center will cater for about 100 women at a time giving them access to courses on literacy and numeracy, tailoring, cookery and nutrition, hygiene, agriculture and of course learning to use computers!
The center has full boarding facilities, classrooms and activity rooms and is surrounded by rich agricultural land where the women are taught to farm and cultivate crops.
The TEWA team really understand that learning about technology is crucial for the women that they are training. They have no doubts that entrepreneurial activity will result in this. I have no doubts either.
The center wants to have a state of the art computer training facility and has asked Camara to provide 50 computers - a ratio of one computer for every two women - so that peer to peer learning between the women can happen.
Women naturally embrace this form of learning which is a highly effective way of distributing knowledge. Men generally need to be brought kicking and screaming to a peer to peer learning session preferring to fight their collegaue over ownership of the computer;). Ahhh what the sexes can learn from one another especially us men....
I have no doubt that the partnership with TEWA will be a success. Again, I stress that these kind of partnerships are ideal for Camara particularly around the area of training.
If we can link with well established organisations that are reaching out to the most vulnerable members of the community here then it makes total sense that Camara provides the technical infrastructure and the training for these initiatives. And of course the trainers are local people who have been trained in the digital hub here;)
Suddenly, you can see people getting jobs from what they have learned here in the hub. An example of a development initiative that links education to enterprise - in my mind the holy grail of any development intervention.
If you can teach somebody something positive from which they manage to get a job then you are genuinely making a difference to somebodies life. And the catalyst for making this happen is these extraordinary educational tools we call computers. Thankfully not rotting in landfill sites...
They are either cooking, looking after children, washing clothes, cleaning houses, sewing, collecting water, working the land, running small enterprises like second hand clothes shops, fruit and vegetable shops etc. The list goes on and on. They truly are the fabric that holds African society together.
And yet more often than not they have no voice, no rights, no place to go if things go wrong in their domestic lives. Oftentimes they are forced to leave school early to look after the home and so go through life with little education unable to get out of the prison they are effectively in. In many parts of Africa, primitive practices like marrying off children as young as 8 years of age still take place. Female circumcision in the rural areas is still practiced. Domestic rape is rampant but more often than not abused women do not speak up for fear of the consequences. And even in some of the more 'advanced' cultures women are literally slaves to whatever a man desires. Systems have been setup that protect themselves from hard challenging questions through the use of draconian punishment for 'dissenters'.
Hence the oppressed women have no means to protest their subjugation for fear of what might happen to them and so the injustice continues.
Its one part of the culture out here that I find extremely difficult to just 'accept'. And in most circumstances just 'accepting' a cultural practice is the right thing to do. It makes for better dialogue between different cultural perspectives which ultimately leads to better understanding from both sides.
In this instance I just see the cultural practice as a form of primitive enslavement and a crass and abusive use of power on the part of men.
I visited a project the day before yesterday which was truly inspiring.
A couple of years ago a group of women got together under the magnificent leadership of a Masai woman called Veronica (I do not know her second name and I am sure that is not her Masai name!) to campaign for womens rights particularly in the rural areas of Kenya. Veronica is now in a wheelchair but battles on regradless. Her organisation is called TEWA.After many years of hard work (and effectively no funding) they finally managed to convince the Kianda Foundation (a large educational foundation in Kenya) to support their cause.
In about 3 months time the magnificent TEWA training center in the Kilifi district (about an hour north of Mombasa) will open. The center will cater for about 100 women at a time giving them access to courses on literacy and numeracy, tailoring, cookery and nutrition, hygiene, agriculture and of course learning to use computers!
The center has full boarding facilities, classrooms and activity rooms and is surrounded by rich agricultural land where the women are taught to farm and cultivate crops.The TEWA team really understand that learning about technology is crucial for the women that they are training. They have no doubts that entrepreneurial activity will result in this. I have no doubts either.
The center wants to have a state of the art computer training facility and has asked Camara to provide 50 computers - a ratio of one computer for every two women - so that peer to peer learning between the women can happen.
Women naturally embrace this form of learning which is a highly effective way of distributing knowledge. Men generally need to be brought kicking and screaming to a peer to peer learning session preferring to fight their collegaue over ownership of the computer;). Ahhh what the sexes can learn from one another especially us men....
I have no doubt that the partnership with TEWA will be a success. Again, I stress that these kind of partnerships are ideal for Camara particularly around the area of training.
If we can link with well established organisations that are reaching out to the most vulnerable members of the community here then it makes total sense that Camara provides the technical infrastructure and the training for these initiatives. And of course the trainers are local people who have been trained in the digital hub here;)Suddenly, you can see people getting jobs from what they have learned here in the hub. An example of a development initiative that links education to enterprise - in my mind the holy grail of any development intervention.
If you can teach somebody something positive from which they manage to get a job then you are genuinely making a difference to somebodies life. And the catalyst for making this happen is these extraordinary educational tools we call computers. Thankfully not rotting in landfill sites...
Wednesday 24 June 2009
Relative Poverty
Life is tough in Kenya at the best of times. The average wage out here is less than $100 a month with a huge percentage of people living on a lot less than that. What raises the average is a small percentage of extra-ordinarily wealthy people who live in palatial houses and drive cars most people in Ireland would be unable to afford.
The average person lives on a day to day basis. They only think about where the money for the next meal is going to come from. People are prepared to go to incredible lengths to keep going. A typical taxi driver for example who does not own their vehicle works anything up to 20 hours a day - more that half of this time is spent raising the money they need to pay the owner of the vehicle before they start earning money for themselves. This is done on a daily basis. If anything happens to the vehicle when its in his custody he is responsible for the bill. They can be fired at any stage even if they meet their rental commitments.
And this is the average person. Living a life like this makes it impossible to plan anything for the future. This is just existing. It brings home the point that poverty leaves you with no choices. That is the crux of the problem.
Now imagine if you had a disability out here and you are born into poverty. Quite literally, your only option is to beg and if that does not work you simply die on the streets.
Sometimes I wonder if looking after our most vulnerable is just a luxury of wealth. That is why it is essential we practice giving unconditionally so that giving becomes as instinctual to us as staying alive.
In 1972, a young 18 year old Kenyan boxer called Dick 'Tiger' Murunga won a bronze medal in the welter weight division at the Munich Olympics. It was an extraordinary achievement at the time and he instantly became a Kenyan national hero.
A number of years later he developed a debilitating shin injury (due apparently to over training and poor nutrition) which confined him to a wheelchair. Over the last number of years the 'Tiger' has been championing the cause for people with disabilities in Africa. He has tirelessly traveled the globe raising awareness and funds for this cause. He even managed to get an audience with Barack Obama when he was still a senator!
I met him this week to look at the possibility of Camara and his charity doing some work together.
One of the projects he is working on is the establishment of an accessible campus just outside Mombasa where people from all over the world with disabilities can visit. The idea is to raise national awareness around the needs of people with disabilities along with providing an outreach center and funding for local people with disabilities.
Part of this campus will include an accessible computer training center. Dick would like Camara to provide the computers for the center.
I think the partnership has fantastic potential. Here is a local hero, politically unaligned, championing the cause of one of the most marginalised communities in Kenya (and Africa generally) and he has recognised the potent role technology can play to help this cause.
As the Camara operations on the ground in Africa stabilise I have no doubt that more and more connections like this will happen. The audacity of hope....what a wonderful phrase;)
The average person lives on a day to day basis. They only think about where the money for the next meal is going to come from. People are prepared to go to incredible lengths to keep going. A typical taxi driver for example who does not own their vehicle works anything up to 20 hours a day - more that half of this time is spent raising the money they need to pay the owner of the vehicle before they start earning money for themselves. This is done on a daily basis. If anything happens to the vehicle when its in his custody he is responsible for the bill. They can be fired at any stage even if they meet their rental commitments.
And this is the average person. Living a life like this makes it impossible to plan anything for the future. This is just existing. It brings home the point that poverty leaves you with no choices. That is the crux of the problem.
Now imagine if you had a disability out here and you are born into poverty. Quite literally, your only option is to beg and if that does not work you simply die on the streets.
Sometimes I wonder if looking after our most vulnerable is just a luxury of wealth. That is why it is essential we practice giving unconditionally so that giving becomes as instinctual to us as staying alive.
In 1972, a young 18 year old Kenyan boxer called Dick 'Tiger' Murunga won a bronze medal in the welter weight division at the Munich Olympics. It was an extraordinary achievement at the time and he instantly became a Kenyan national hero.
A number of years later he developed a debilitating shin injury (due apparently to over training and poor nutrition) which confined him to a wheelchair. Over the last number of years the 'Tiger' has been championing the cause for people with disabilities in Africa. He has tirelessly traveled the globe raising awareness and funds for this cause. He even managed to get an audience with Barack Obama when he was still a senator!
I met him this week to look at the possibility of Camara and his charity doing some work together.
One of the projects he is working on is the establishment of an accessible campus just outside Mombasa where people from all over the world with disabilities can visit. The idea is to raise national awareness around the needs of people with disabilities along with providing an outreach center and funding for local people with disabilities.
Part of this campus will include an accessible computer training center. Dick would like Camara to provide the computers for the center.
I think the partnership has fantastic potential. Here is a local hero, politically unaligned, championing the cause of one of the most marginalised communities in Kenya (and Africa generally) and he has recognised the potent role technology can play to help this cause.
As the Camara operations on the ground in Africa stabilise I have no doubt that more and more connections like this will happen. The audacity of hope....what a wonderful phrase;)
Saturday 20 June 2009
Pate Island Part 2
We took the orange tractor back to the beach after visiting the school to find a very welcome 4WD drive vehicle waiting for us. There literally are no roads on Pate, just walking paths through the vegetation and so to get around the islands you genuinely need a 4WD.
When I got into the car with my colleagues I immediately felt a distance from the reality of the place I was in. I felt like I was in a bubble looking out at the passing world - a visitor to an alien place protected from its harsh realities - able to witness what was going on but unable to really participate.
We passed by salt marshes and lagoons with lonely figures foraging for food seen only in silhouette in the d
istance.
We passed donkeys slowly walking in the baking sun carrying heavy loads being gently led by their owners who walked by their sides.
We occasionally saw monkeys and small antelopes scuttling across the road as we passed. Herds of goats held us up a couple of times and all the while passers by on the road staring at the big powerful machine so out of place in this stark and simple world.
Over the next few hours we visited various schools that had also been built by the American military. Once again the schools stood in total contrast to the villages built in stone with corrugated roofs as opposed to wood and thatch.
One of the more memorable places we visited was a town called Chungua. They had acquired a generator and a couple of Camara computers and were running a lab in the school. I was curious to see how they were getting on.
We arrived at the school and the generator was running. Only 4 computers out of twelve were on. They explained that if they turned on any more computers the surge protector cut off the electricity and all the computers turned off.
I asked them what the power output of the generator was and they told me that they thought it was 6 KW which should have been enough to power the computers (each computer needs about 400Watts max). I asked them for the generator handbook and discovered that the series 6 generator that they thought they had bought looked suspiciously like a series 3 generator which only output about 2 KW. Somebody had duped them when they bought the generator.
I felt so sorry for them. They had bought the generator in Mombasa and then had the enormous challenge of getting the machine up to the island intact and safe - to then discover that the machine would only power 4 computers.
I explained everything to the councillor and he promised to follow up....
That said, the computers were working and being used. In particular they loved the Camara Wikipedia. I came away convinced that every year we should upgrade and update the Camara Wikidepia and bring it with us for trips like this. It is a very powerful and useful tool for remote areas like these islands.
The head master explained that there was a huge drug problem developing on the islands. With little to do, young men and women were turning to drugs to escape the boredom. The computers however small in number as they were, were keeping people interested and engaged and many of the students asked to stay on after school to use them....it was good to hear this.
Then I noticed a young man wandering in the school yard. At first I thought I was looking at somebody from a strange tribe. His body was totally out of proportion with his head which was only the size of medium size grape-fruit.
He came over to me and I suddenly realised that he had huge learning difficulties. He stumbled over his words and made no real sense when he spoke. He was then joined by two others, a boy and a girl, that were similarly deformed. The head master came over to us and explained that they were 'mental' (his words not mine), that they were all from the same family but that they had two normal older brothers and that they could not 'learn'.
The young girl then tried to interject and showed me she could count up to seven.
'This one, she can learn' conceded the head master.
I asked what the problem was and he told me they suffered from microencephaly.
I had heard the term before but I had never met anyone suffering from the condition. I had a weak phone signal and was able to get onto the net to find out more.
Apparently if a pregnant woman catches illnesses like chicken pox or Rubella or suffers from alcohol or drug abuse microencephaly can occur. There is also a possibility that partners with too similar genetic makeup can case the condition to happen.
I gave the information to the councillor and he was amazed that I could get the information using my phone.
It occurred to me then just how powerful information access is to places as remote as this. Information access could literally save lives and reduce suffering and hardship. Who knows why these poor children were born like this but perhaps with the right information (particularly around the dangers of drug abuse when pregnant) births like this could be reduced.
I feel awful writing a sentence like that and I hope it does not come across the wrong way. If you are born with a disability then I truly believe our society should be setup to care for you. Out here though, if you are born with a disability there really is no support structure and everyone struggles more including the people trying to care for you.
The fact that people can be born with awful disabilities has always been an enormous spiritual challenge to me. I have never truly been able to reconcile it with the existence of a loving God. Its at times like this I wish John Moriarty was around to throw some light on this profound mystery. (If anyone reads this far and has any enlightening insight please fill me in..!)
We left Chungua and headed for Faza. Again the journey in the car was like traveling in a time machine to an age long since forgotten.
We passed by women pumping salt water from ancient wells - water they would use to clean dishes and wash in.
We saw rain catchment gutters designed to capture as much water as possible and feeding them into large black tanks for drinking water. We saw women making dresses from long grasses and leaves at the side of the road.
Faza is on the northern tip of the archipelago. In order to get to Faza town we had to leave the car on one side of a causeway and walk across a narrow stone bridge that stretched for about 200 metres to get to the town.
Millions of tiny crabs were running below us on the baking sand as the tide was out.
Naked children, covered in sand were playing chasing games with the crabs.
At this point I was utterly starving. I had forgotten to bring food with me foolishly thinking I could last the day on fruit and water. The councillor brought us to a local 'restaurant' where he said food had been prepared for us...
To be honest, I was dreading what was coming. I have had too many bad experiences eating local food and suffering for it afterwards. And I had a long boat journey home later that evening...
But I was so damn hungry. In the end I ate a marvelous meal of boiled beans and chapati bread washed down with a hot cup of masala (spiced) tea. I decided that, worst case scenario, my imminent bowel problems might come in useful. They could add a little horse power to our boat and speed up the journey home;)
A few hours later after visiting another school we were making our way back to the beach we had landed on. We had left it late and the sun was setting quickly. One of the reasons we were late was because we had to wait for the local fishermen to return from the sea with a gift for us....
The fishermen on these islands are legendary. They free dive and stay under water for over ten minutes and hand fish! They do not use nets....you would not believe how fit these men looked when they arrived with their catch.
They had caught a number of huge red and white snapper (about 20Kgs of fish) which we were urged to cook as soon as possible.
And so it was that we sped across the islands in the 4WD with this cargo watching the sun go down on this truly beautiful place.
I think I would have enjoyed the sunset more if I was not thinking how challenging it was going to be to navigate the mangrove reef that we had come through in the morning. It did not help that our captain waiting at the beach was urging us to get into the boat quickly.
The journey back across the open section was much rougher. The wind had risen and our little boat was thrown about quite a bit but thankfully all went well including my ability to contain the extra horsepower in my lower bowel. I could see a light ahead and it was clear that the captain was heading for it.
It turned out that the light was from a much larger boat owned by the local police commissioner. We managed to catch up with this boat and simply tailgated it as it navigated the mangrove reef section! I am not sure how we would have navigated it otherwise. How do the Africans plan these things....
A simple twist to the story was that as we were emerging from the Mangrove forest on the final stretch of the journey home the Police boat hailed us asking us for fuel! It had ran out and so we ended up helping it get back to port.
That evening we asked a local restaurant to cook the fish for us and a party of 12 people ate the most magnificent barbecue fish dinner with coconut rice and swahili sauce with freshly squeezed mango juice to wash it down.
A perfect ending to a truly incredible day.
When I got into the car with my colleagues I immediately felt a distance from the reality of the place I was in. I felt like I was in a bubble looking out at the passing world - a visitor to an alien place protected from its harsh realities - able to witness what was going on but unable to really participate.
We passed by salt marshes and lagoons with lonely figures foraging for food seen only in silhouette in the d
istance.We passed donkeys slowly walking in the baking sun carrying heavy loads being gently led by their owners who walked by their sides.
We occasionally saw monkeys and small antelopes scuttling across the road as we passed. Herds of goats held us up a couple of times and all the while passers by on the road staring at the big powerful machine so out of place in this stark and simple world.
Over the next few hours we visited various schools that had also been built by the American military. Once again the schools stood in total contrast to the villages built in stone with corrugated roofs as opposed to wood and thatch.
One of the more memorable places we visited was a town called Chungua. They had acquired a generator and a couple of Camara computers and were running a lab in the school. I was curious to see how they were getting on.
We arrived at the school and the generator was running. Only 4 computers out of twelve were on. They explained that if they turned on any more computers the surge protector cut off the electricity and all the computers turned off.I asked them what the power output of the generator was and they told me that they thought it was 6 KW which should have been enough to power the computers (each computer needs about 400Watts max). I asked them for the generator handbook and discovered that the series 6 generator that they thought they had bought looked suspiciously like a series 3 generator which only output about 2 KW. Somebody had duped them when they bought the generator.
I felt so sorry for them. They had bought the generator in Mombasa and then had the enormous challenge of getting the machine up to the island intact and safe - to then discover that the machine would only power 4 computers.
I explained everything to the councillor and he promised to follow up....
That said, the computers were working and being used. In particular they loved the Camara Wikipedia. I came away convinced that every year we should upgrade and update the Camara Wikidepia and bring it with us for trips like this. It is a very powerful and useful tool for remote areas like these islands.
The head master explained that there was a huge drug problem developing on the islands. With little to do, young men and women were turning to drugs to escape the boredom. The computers however small in number as they were, were keeping people interested and engaged and many of the students asked to stay on after school to use them....it was good to hear this.
Then I noticed a young man wandering in the school yard. At first I thought I was looking at somebody from a strange tribe. His body was totally out of proportion with his head which was only the size of medium size grape-fruit.
He came over to me and I suddenly realised that he had huge learning difficulties. He stumbled over his words and made no real sense when he spoke. He was then joined by two others, a boy and a girl, that were similarly deformed. The head master came over to us and explained that they were 'mental' (his words not mine), that they were all from the same family but that they had two normal older brothers and that they could not 'learn'.
The young girl then tried to interject and showed me she could count up to seven.
'This one, she can learn' conceded the head master.
I asked what the problem was and he told me they suffered from microencephaly.
I had heard the term before but I had never met anyone suffering from the condition. I had a weak phone signal and was able to get onto the net to find out more.
Apparently if a pregnant woman catches illnesses like chicken pox or Rubella or suffers from alcohol or drug abuse microencephaly can occur. There is also a possibility that partners with too similar genetic makeup can case the condition to happen.
I gave the information to the councillor and he was amazed that I could get the information using my phone.
It occurred to me then just how powerful information access is to places as remote as this. Information access could literally save lives and reduce suffering and hardship. Who knows why these poor children were born like this but perhaps with the right information (particularly around the dangers of drug abuse when pregnant) births like this could be reduced.
I feel awful writing a sentence like that and I hope it does not come across the wrong way. If you are born with a disability then I truly believe our society should be setup to care for you. Out here though, if you are born with a disability there really is no support structure and everyone struggles more including the people trying to care for you.
The fact that people can be born with awful disabilities has always been an enormous spiritual challenge to me. I have never truly been able to reconcile it with the existence of a loving God. Its at times like this I wish John Moriarty was around to throw some light on this profound mystery. (If anyone reads this far and has any enlightening insight please fill me in..!)
We left Chungua and headed for Faza. Again the journey in the car was like traveling in a time machine to an age long since forgotten.
We passed by women pumping salt water from ancient wells - water they would use to clean dishes and wash in.
We saw rain catchment gutters designed to capture as much water as possible and feeding them into large black tanks for drinking water. We saw women making dresses from long grasses and leaves at the side of the road.
Faza is on the northern tip of the archipelago. In order to get to Faza town we had to leave the car on one side of a causeway and walk across a narrow stone bridge that stretched for about 200 metres to get to the town.
Millions of tiny crabs were running below us on the baking sand as the tide was out.
Naked children, covered in sand were playing chasing games with the crabs.
At this point I was utterly starving. I had forgotten to bring food with me foolishly thinking I could last the day on fruit and water. The councillor brought us to a local 'restaurant' where he said food had been prepared for us...
To be honest, I was dreading what was coming. I have had too many bad experiences eating local food and suffering for it afterwards. And I had a long boat journey home later that evening...
But I was so damn hungry. In the end I ate a marvelous meal of boiled beans and chapati bread washed down with a hot cup of masala (spiced) tea. I decided that, worst case scenario, my imminent bowel problems might come in useful. They could add a little horse power to our boat and speed up the journey home;)
A few hours later after visiting another school we were making our way back to the beach we had landed on. We had left it late and the sun was setting quickly. One of the reasons we were late was because we had to wait for the local fishermen to return from the sea with a gift for us....
The fishermen on these islands are legendary. They free dive and stay under water for over ten minutes and hand fish! They do not use nets....you would not believe how fit these men looked when they arrived with their catch.
They had caught a number of huge red and white snapper (about 20Kgs of fish) which we were urged to cook as soon as possible.
And so it was that we sped across the islands in the 4WD with this cargo watching the sun go down on this truly beautiful place.
I think I would have enjoyed the sunset more if I was not thinking how challenging it was going to be to navigate the mangrove reef that we had come through in the morning. It did not help that our captain waiting at the beach was urging us to get into the boat quickly.
The journey back across the open section was much rougher. The wind had risen and our little boat was thrown about quite a bit but thankfully all went well including my ability to contain the extra horsepower in my lower bowel. I could see a light ahead and it was clear that the captain was heading for it.
It turned out that the light was from a much larger boat owned by the local police commissioner. We managed to catch up with this boat and simply tailgated it as it navigated the mangrove reef section! I am not sure how we would have navigated it otherwise. How do the Africans plan these things....
A simple twist to the story was that as we were emerging from the Mangrove forest on the final stretch of the journey home the Police boat hailed us asking us for fuel! It had ran out and so we ended up helping it get back to port.
That evening we asked a local restaurant to cook the fish for us and a party of 12 people ate the most magnificent barbecue fish dinner with coconut rice and swahili sauce with freshly squeezed mango juice to wash it down.
A perfect ending to a truly incredible day.
Pate Island Part 1
Every year I have come out here I have traveled to Lamu island which is off the far north east coast of Kenya. Stonetown, the main village on the island, is a world heritage site and is so for good reason. The narrow streets, the lack of vehicles, the use of donkeys to carry people and merchandise captures a way of life that has long since vanished from the West. Even though life is tough here and even though it takes considerable effort to get to the island from Mombasa it is a real privilege to spend a few days here. Every school on the island now has a Camara computer lab and the community here are amazingly supportive and keen to keep improving the program. Its a great example of how even an isolated community with limited resources can participate in the information age.
This year I met a local councillor for the entire region who, coincidentally, was one of the first people Camara worked with when establishing a base in Kenya. He had only just got elected and he explained that since he was actually born in the area he was really committed to trying to improve life for the people up here. He suggested that we visit Pate island (his birthplace) to get an idea of what he was up against.
Pate island is about 4 hours slow boat journey from Lamu. Its right up on the Somalia border and is part of a small archipelago of islands separated by mangrove forests and narrow channels. The islands have no electricity, no roads and get drinking water from rain catchment tanks. There is one vehicle on the islands (which he had access to) and there were 12 schools serving a population of about twenty thousand people plus.
I was honestly reluctant to travel to the islands given the challenging boat journey but he told me there was a quicker way to get there.
If you look at a map of the region (check google maps) it suggests that you need to go around a large headland between Lamu and Pate to go from one island to another. It turns out that the headland is actually an island joined to the mainland by a huge mangrove forest and that it was possible to navigate through this forest on a speedboat which literally halved the journey time.
I agreed to give it a go....
The following day at about 6.00am I checked my email via my phone. A friend of mine had sent me a quote from St Francis of Assisi which went something like:
'When you are faced with the impossible, start with what is realistic, then with what is possible and soon you will be doing the impossible'
At 6.00am, myself, the councillor, and 4 Camara colleagues (all local) got into a 12 foot speedboat with a 40HP engine and we heading off. The trip through the mangrove forest was incredible and I was glad that we had some light to navigate as there were reefs, rocks and roots everywhere. Our captain was very experienced and assured me that all was fine and that he knew the way. When we hit the open sea on the far side I realised just how big the distance to the island was - all fifty miles of it! The Captain opened up the engine and we literally flew across the sea which thankfully was not too rough. Some of my colleagues had never been in a speedboat before and they were delighted with the bumps and bouncing of the tiny craft. I could not switch my engineering brain off which was calculating the stresses on the fibre glass hull....
Anyway, we arrived safely and docked at a beautiful beach where local workmen were building a small peer.
I got off the boat and quite literally stepped into another world....
...it turned out that there was actually a second vehicle on the island at this time. The workmen at the peer had acquired an old, very orange, battered tractor that they were using to carry materials for the peer.
There was a school about a mile away and the councillor suggested that we use the tractor to drive to the school in advance of his vehicle arriving (it was late having to get fuel from somewhere!). So one of the workmen told me to sit behind him on the trailer with the councillor and a camara colleague and off we went. If I was my son Osian, I would have enjoyed the experience - it was a 13 year olds dream trip. Unfortunately I found the trip terrifying being unable to take my eyes off the heavily rusting machinery carrying my now delicate 42 year old anatomy.
We arrived at the school with me ducking just in time to avoid whacking a large low hanging branch (much to the hilarity of the locals out to greet us). It was also a dreadfully undignified lunge from the vehicle that marked my exit, my palpable relief at touching solid ground visible all over my face.
I was soon surrounded by curious children all gaping up at me with huge brown eyes and beaming toothy smiles that would break your heart.
We walked through the village made up of wooden houses with thatched roofs, all filled with farm animals and smoking fires and then onto the school.
I was amazed to find that the school, unlike the houses in the village, was built from stone and was quite modern looking. I found out that it was built by the Americans in the army base directly across the water on the mainland. The Americans had a base there because of the trouble in Somalia.
However, once inside the school I realised the school had absolutely nothing. They were short of even the most basic equipment like chalk, pencils and copybooks. One of the classrooms was even outdoors.
The teachers did their best but the odds they faced were incredible.
And then they asked me could they get computers.
What do you say at times like this?
I told them the basic infrastructure they would need to get a computer lab up and running. As I listened to myself talking I felt ashamed that I was effectively leading them on. At the heart of my rhetoric was a sense of hopelessness....
I then found myself remembering the quote from St Francis that I had read in the morning and looked around suddenly noticing that one of the teachers was carrying a mobile phone.
'How do you charge that?' I asked.
I was led away to a tower in the middle of the village which we climbed. On top of the tower was a 75W solar panel which was charging a car battery.
Connected to the battery was a 12V to 220V inverter out of which was connected a Nokia charger for a phone. There were a couple of phones in the village and they shared the charger on a rotation basis.
They were even able to run an old 14" television for about 30 minutes when the battery was fully charged.
And then it occurred to me (and forgive me if it is obvious to you) that laptops and a couple of solar panels could work out really well here.
As I was leaving the school I asked a village elder that I if were to make a small donation to the village what would he buy. He immediately said that they would like another voltage invertor as a community resource so that mobile phones could be charged. He said communication with the mainland was crucial for local enterprise.
Later that evening I was able to check email again and discover that a very well known tech company was willing to donate a large number of state of the art laptops to Camara if a suitable home could be found for them.....
More from Pate island later....
This year I met a local councillor for the entire region who, coincidentally, was one of the first people Camara worked with when establishing a base in Kenya. He had only just got elected and he explained that since he was actually born in the area he was really committed to trying to improve life for the people up here. He suggested that we visit Pate island (his birthplace) to get an idea of what he was up against.
Pate island is about 4 hours slow boat journey from Lamu. Its right up on the Somalia border and is part of a small archipelago of islands separated by mangrove forests and narrow channels. The islands have no electricity, no roads and get drinking water from rain catchment tanks. There is one vehicle on the islands (which he had access to) and there were 12 schools serving a population of about twenty thousand people plus.
I was honestly reluctant to travel to the islands given the challenging boat journey but he told me there was a quicker way to get there.
If you look at a map of the region (check google maps) it suggests that you need to go around a large headland between Lamu and Pate to go from one island to another. It turns out that the headland is actually an island joined to the mainland by a huge mangrove forest and that it was possible to navigate through this forest on a speedboat which literally halved the journey time.
I agreed to give it a go....
The following day at about 6.00am I checked my email via my phone. A friend of mine had sent me a quote from St Francis of Assisi which went something like:
'When you are faced with the impossible, start with what is realistic, then with what is possible and soon you will be doing the impossible'
At 6.00am, myself, the councillor, and 4 Camara colleagues (all local) got into a 12 foot speedboat with a 40HP engine and we heading off. The trip through the mangrove forest was incredible and I was glad that we had some light to navigate as there were reefs, rocks and roots everywhere. Our captain was very experienced and assured me that all was fine and that he knew the way. When we hit the open sea on the far side I realised just how big the distance to the island was - all fifty miles of it! The Captain opened up the engine and we literally flew across the sea which thankfully was not too rough. Some of my colleagues had never been in a speedboat before and they were delighted with the bumps and bouncing of the tiny craft. I could not switch my engineering brain off which was calculating the stresses on the fibre glass hull....
Anyway, we arrived safely and docked at a beautiful beach where local workmen were building a small peer.
I got off the boat and quite literally stepped into another world....
...it turned out that there was actually a second vehicle on the island at this time. The workmen at the peer had acquired an old, very orange, battered tractor that they were using to carry materials for the peer.
There was a school about a mile away and the councillor suggested that we use the tractor to drive to the school in advance of his vehicle arriving (it was late having to get fuel from somewhere!). So one of the workmen told me to sit behind him on the trailer with the councillor and a camara colleague and off we went. If I was my son Osian, I would have enjoyed the experience - it was a 13 year olds dream trip. Unfortunately I found the trip terrifying being unable to take my eyes off the heavily rusting machinery carrying my now delicate 42 year old anatomy.
We arrived at the school with me ducking just in time to avoid whacking a large low hanging branch (much to the hilarity of the locals out to greet us). It was also a dreadfully undignified lunge from the vehicle that marked my exit, my palpable relief at touching solid ground visible all over my face.
I was soon surrounded by curious children all gaping up at me with huge brown eyes and beaming toothy smiles that would break your heart.
We walked through the village made up of wooden houses with thatched roofs, all filled with farm animals and smoking fires and then onto the school.
I was amazed to find that the school, unlike the houses in the village, was built from stone and was quite modern looking. I found out that it was built by the Americans in the army base directly across the water on the mainland. The Americans had a base there because of the trouble in Somalia.
However, once inside the school I realised the school had absolutely nothing. They were short of even the most basic equipment like chalk, pencils and copybooks. One of the classrooms was even outdoors.
The teachers did their best but the odds they faced were incredible.And then they asked me could they get computers.
What do you say at times like this?
I told them the basic infrastructure they would need to get a computer lab up and running. As I listened to myself talking I felt ashamed that I was effectively leading them on. At the heart of my rhetoric was a sense of hopelessness....
I then found myself remembering the quote from St Francis that I had read in the morning and looked around suddenly noticing that one of the teachers was carrying a mobile phone.
'How do you charge that?' I asked.
I was led away to a tower in the middle of the village which we climbed. On top of the tower was a 75W solar panel which was charging a car battery.
Connected to the battery was a 12V to 220V inverter out of which was connected a Nokia charger for a phone. There were a couple of phones in the village and they shared the charger on a rotation basis.
They were even able to run an old 14" television for about 30 minutes when the battery was fully charged.
And then it occurred to me (and forgive me if it is obvious to you) that laptops and a couple of solar panels could work out really well here.
As I was leaving the school I asked a village elder that I if were to make a small donation to the village what would he buy. He immediately said that they would like another voltage invertor as a community resource so that mobile phones could be charged. He said communication with the mainland was crucial for local enterprise.
Later that evening I was able to check email again and discover that a very well known tech company was willing to donate a large number of state of the art laptops to Camara if a suitable home could be found for them.....
More from Pate island later....
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