Guess Who's Going to KENYA!

Becky and Travis are going to Kenya!

We each got grants of 2500$ to go and film a short documentary in Kenya from the PEERY Foundation.
Whatwhatwhat! I am so pumped. (Travis is so pumped that he is excitedly writing on his blog about it and ignoring his hot wife.)

So we'll probably be going sometime around endofMay and beginningofJune.
We'll be there for two weeksish and we'll be making a short doc on KOMAZA, a social entrepreneurship that helps down and out farmers afford drought-resistant fast-growing trees that can be sold for lumber.
They be changing the world, and we be making a movie bout it. YO!

p.s. Dad, before I forget: Will you bring the 50mm lens down when you guys come? For ma b-day? Thanks much. I will use it in Kenya to take beautiful pictures.
Hopefully not unlike THESE by photographer Amelia Lyon. She just went to Haiti. Are her photos not stunning?

That's all.
Except did I mention that WE ARE GOING TO AFRICA THIS SUMMER AND SOMEONE IS PAYING THE BILL FOR BOTH OF US?

Because that is the case. We are officially a "team." We applied as a team. We be going as team.
The great Becky and Travis Pitcher: highly respected writers, photographers, and please don't forget... Film makers.

BooYAH!

28 days in Africa

A picture for every day?

And maybe a story for each one.

Oh, blast. You know I've just realized that I have at least one CF Card at home with morepictures on it. Things like giant anthills, and Freddy the Boda-Boda driver, our cook Edith, and pregnant Aberforth, and Travis trying to eat sugar cane and feed Nutella to the goats (which they didn't like at all.)

So here are 25 pictures for now, and nope, they are no longer in order:

aaaand, I still can't crop. So if they look like they ought to be horizontal then click for the full picture.

It would seem wrong to start this photo flood with a picture of someone besides Osito. Unfortunately, you can't see him unless you click on the picture.

So Osito was one of our drivers. He told us he was 26, but he also said he thought he was born in 1987. So we don't know how old he is.

Osito has, as he mournfully told me the first time we met, "never even touched an aeroplane," yet his greatest ambition is to be a famous singer in America. If he becomes a famous singer in America then he will send his giant fortune to a Kilifi orphanage.

This is a picture he asked me to take to go on the cover of his Demo Cd.

If you are wondering, Osito's "band" is really a small gospel choir.

He is not the main singer, but intends to be the only one photographed for their cover.

Oh Osito, I love you. But you also drove me nearly crazy.
This is Squeegee, our favorite wiggly skinny little puppy. He did have fleas, but we still let him in our room and I carried him around quite a bit.

I couldn't help it. Have you ever seen such a cute little guy? He is also the puppy that I mentioned being harassed by monkeys in Kilifi. I'm glad to say that he is still alive and well.
This is my cute husband filming a burning pile of trash.

First, imagine the worst smell you have ever smelled.

Now set it on fire.

There isn't a garbage system in Kenya (or most of Africa, I think.) So people throw their garbage in the woods, or if that's too big of a pain, they burn it.
This is Kilifi! Doesn't it look just perfect?

Yes, the picture below is also Kilifi, combine them into a rural and gorgeous town and you got Kilifi.

This picture was taken from the BoatYard, a little tourist restaurant that served absurdly delicious crab samosas, while you sat with your feet in perfect white sand, shaded by palm trees, and looked out at the sun setting over the Indian Ocean.

Can we talk about ideal? This was our special treat for our last day in Kenya.

We went with our friends Leah and Rajiv, our personal Kenyan tour guides, they introduced us to our favorite parts of Kilifi, like the people, and the alleyway market, and --of course-- crab samosas.
This is Osito again, in front of his Tuk Tuk. It's basically a motorized rig-shaw. He would drive us around town in it for super cheap.

I said to him, "Osito, can I take your picture in the Tuk Tuk so my family can see what it looks like?"

"Of course, of course!" he said

So I took a picture of him sitting in the Tuk Tuk seat.

"One more," he said, and he got out and crouched down next to the front.

"Another?" he asked, posing in the above position.

"Would it trouble you to take just one more?" he asked.

A dozen photos later and I am confident that I have pictures of both Osito and the Tuk Tuk from nearly every angle.

We had a bonfire on the beach one night and it was a blast. Luckily Rajiv and Travis were both boy scouts or we never would have gotten the fire started it was so windy! We ended up all crouched and huddled around it, holding a blanket over our heads to block the wind. When the papers and sticks finally caught fire my eyebrows (and everyone else's) were nearly burned off.

Lots of teeny tiny crabs (think nickel-sized) would venture near to see the fire, but become frightened and try to scurry away.

But the boys kept herding the scuttling little guys into the fire where they would scream, start to bubble, and then die.

Then the boys would pull the crab out and eat it! they said it was pretty good, but I was too squeamish to have a bite.

I think this monkey is in the Nairobi airport, although I assure you they were everywhere.

The guards in the airport absolutely hated them, but they kept sneaking in somehow.

This is Osito's band. Can you see him back there?

We have his cd if you would like a copy, and if you are feeling generous I think Osito would love to get a few US dollars in the mail.

He might even donate it to a near-by orphanage.

This picture was taken in Uganda at one of HELP Internationals Eye Camps. HELP pays for doctors and nurses who come to very rural places and give out free eye glasses and perform dozens of cataract surgeries.

Travis made good friends with the man above and followed him through the whole procedure.

He spoke very good English for living somewhere so rural.

This is us at the NILE river. We were right near the head of it, visiting some pretty little falls.

I have never been anywhere that is mentioned in the Bible, and I know it was silly, and we were very far from Egypt, but it was a very neat experience to see the Nile.

I just kept thinking about Moses, and after I thought of that (of course) I felt the need to take off my shoes.

And then I finally understood (I think) how sweet it was for Christ to wash the apostles feet. Since every day we came home and our feet were dirty and sweaty and aching, but mostly dirty, and I would have to sit down in our disgusting cold shower and try to rub my feet semi-clean.

And sitting there at the Nile with water washing over my feet just felt so heavenly.
This man is at another Eye Camp.

Travis took this picture.

Isn't it gorgeous?

This is me.

This is our driver Peter, who, if you've read other posts in Africa you will know was a very good friend.

When we were in Uganda he actually called us and once I was on the phone said "Becky, please. I miss you so much. Please, please return to Kenya."

"I would like to," I said.

"Then please come back. Come back now if you can."

It's nice to have friends who want you to visit.
Remember when we broke down in the middle of the night in the middle of nowhere in the middle of Kenya.

We took some pretty long-exposure shots.

You seriously wouldn't believe the stars you can see in Africa.
Remember when the Kenyan women couldn't stop laughing at me? They helped me tie my skirt and then babbled on in Swahili and then laughed until they cried?

These are a few from the group. The girl in the black and green is the one who finally helped me.
This is a photo from when Rajiv and Leah and Travis and I had dinner with Kadzo and Bahati and they gave me my Kenyan name and then showed us their farm --which we would have destroyed if they let us keep working on it.

These are the mud huts they live in and you can see their make-shift tables and communal plates.

It was perfect. I want to do it again.

Today.
This is Elvis, Bahati's baby. All of the babies (and I even saw children who were at least three r four) are carried around like this. The fabric used is the same fabric they use as skirts (Kangas) and often the woman will wear a skirt that matches her baby-carrier.

This is Kadzo and Bahati laughing at someone (I think Leah) trying to hoe.

Don't be fooled though, they laughed much harder when I tried to hoe.

Repeatedly they took the hoe away from me and tried to reshow me how it's done.

And repeatedly I failed.

This is just a little baby tree.

And little baby me.

Larger than Life

Everything is bigger in Texas.
But Kenya is bigger than Texas, so things here are bigger than things in Texas.
Today I bought two mangoes for 20 shillings each (like 30cents) and they're the size of three or four good-sized mangoes found in America.
They're like the sized of a small child's head.

The sun is definitely bigger and man! it can take it out of you. It just presses down all day. No wonder the African people have such dark skin. Put a sad little white girl out here and she looks like a piece of over-cooked bacon.
Travis made up a name for the shirt that it looks like I'm wearing when I'm naked. But I'm not allowed to tell you it.
I've said too much already.

The snakes are bigger in Kenya. At least, bigger than the snakes in Minnesota which are little and harmless. But Green Mambas are not harmless, nor are they a delicious candy treat. They're a common threat that I am now terrified of. I walk heavily and slowly on grass paths so that maybe I'll squash one if I accidentally step on it.

The monkeys here are bigger than the monkeys in the USA. (Non-existent) and they have have huge bright blue balls, which I find to be a very funny thing. I have seen them now. Maybe a dozen. I love them and want them to live with me, but I also fear that they are deceptively adorable and maybe actually are super mean and evil.

The bugs are bigger and the bug-bites more frequent. At least for me. NO ONE else that I talk to has had any bug trouble. I have about forty bug bites and YES I wear bug spray constantly. I get up in the middle of the night in a paranoid mosquito night terror and put more bug spray on, even though I'm in netting.
In fact, I've had a really hard time sleeping and wake up every few hours convinced that mosquitoes are all over me and they I lie there itching myself until I fall into fitful mosquito dreams.

The trees are bigger in Kenya. They are the size of jumbo 12 man tents. Like... maybe a dozen jumbo 12 man tents piled on top of each other.
That's the best comparison I can think of.

Hey family, I wish you were online right now. Why don't you get up in the wee hours of the night?

Kilifi, Kenya, Africa!

We’re here, we’re here and we never want to leave!
We’re finally in Kenya and it is gorgeous. Every few minutes I look around me and think, Why would any one ever want to live somewhere that isn’t Kenya? I’m sure I’ll find out but for now we just love it.
The sky is blue and bright and everywhere there are thick fields of grass, pineapple, and even corn. There are jungles with trees LITERALLY the size of a house that are reminiscent of Fern Gully.
We drove through Mobasa on our way to Kilifi and our driver was the best driver ever. Some parts of the road were thronged with cars going the wrong way, children trying to sell us sugar cane through the window and lots of goats and some parts were washed out or filled with potholes. But our driver cleared it all with ease, sometimes even with Cher blasting out the raido WHILE he’s on the phone.
The city was the most interesting to me, there were dozens of little internet cafes, pubs, and a little tin shack that had Beyonce Café spray painted on the side. It’s a real pity I couldn’t get a picture of it. And in the middle of all the chaos there are groups of beautiful barefoot children running footraces and playing soccer, and trying to get the white girl (ME) in the fancy car wave at them.
Every child I see is so breath-takingly adorable that I want to stop and hug them, take their picture and give them a hundred dollars. But I‘m pretty sure that’s something I shouldn’t do.
Everyone here is very, VERY helpful. A little too helpful, you know. Since they’ll rush over to grab your bags and pack them into the car for you then say “You have a little something for me?” And if you try to give them coins or a few British pounds they say “American notes are fine, American notes.” Okay Fine. We can spare two dollars.
Our house might be the best thing of all. We’re staying in a mansion-sized ex-pat Beach House with three other Americans. We have geckos on the walls, and ants of our keyboards while we try to type (Beat little bugs!) Then we have a huge big yard filled with trees filled with MONKEYS! We have a private pool and three dogs that apparently kind-of live here with us. We’re a five minute walk from the Indian Ocean, which is warm and turquoise. The beach is spongey, springy, deep and blinding white. There was a boat of fishermen a few hundred yards out in the water, and six or seven kids playing down by the beach, but it was otherwise deserted.
Surely we can’t be enjoying this perfection ourselves?
I’m sitting on our bed, which is surrounded by mosquito netting. Clinging to the outside are three or four grasshoppers the size of my longest finger, a few June-Bug like beetles and many moths and ants.
It’s weird how quickly you can adjust to these things. It just seems perfectly natural that we’re surrounded by monkeys, dogs, geckos and gigantic bugs. Any one of those things would lead me to complaint in the USA but here… I love it.
My Dad kept warning me to mentally prepare myself and after the culture shock I went through in China, who can blame him?
But I have yet to see anything that seemed “wrong” or “bad.” Everything just seems perfect. And if people live differently here, then that’s because its so different here. But different-good, you know. Different-awesome.
Tomorrow we’ll start working, but how can it be called working? We’re going to be meeting farmers, seeing their land and learning about what they do.
BEST JOB EVER.
I love here. For real.
Hopefully pictures will come soon.

We're here

So we're in Uganda.

So far, I have to admit it... I prefer Kenya,

But I may be biased because in Kenya we had a bed, hot water, a full kitchen to cook in and only three roommates. Here we have 19 roommates in a house half the size. And 16 of them are unmarried sophomore girls.

But we have been having fun, and being sure to take many many pictures.

Today we visited the Nile.

It was very awesome.

Yesterday we went to school and talked with the students and built an adobe stove (until rain shut down the country... even though the kids were already in school they stopped teaching when the rain started.)

I would like to write more but we're being charged by the half hour and I have to go.

Ganze, Kenya

Yesterday our car broke down.
Or rather, the car we were riding in broke down. In order to reach Ganze, a small town an hour away from where we live, where many Komaza farmers live, we had to hire a car to take us. It was a 1980s BMW.
It broke down twice on the way there, but was easily fixed. The front right tire went flat, but after a half hour was changed. And on the way home, in the dark, it broke down for real.
We were stranded for a short time in the absolute middle of nowhere with all of our several hundred pounds of equipment and absolutely nothing else but sunscreen and empty water bottles.
Our driver Peter called a mechanic and a half hour later he arrived on a motorcycle. After fifteen minutes and a bit of Travis’s Gaffing Tape, the problem had been solved and we headed home.
The problem: the bumpy dirt road had bounced the car to the extent that multiple wires had come out in the engine. Once taped back in, we were good to go.
The road was that bumpy. It was so bumpy that I usually felt like my teeth were chattering, but sometimes felt like my jaw and spine were broken and just swinging and bouncing freely.
Technically in Kenya you drive on the left side of the road, but I think they just drive wherever it looks least bumpy. Sometime we were literally driving with two tires in the ditch, two feet down from the road. There were children walking to and from school during most of the day (morning-to school, lunchtime- to and then from, evening from school) and when they saw cars come by they would scream and run off the road.
Yes, I think drivers really are that bad.
After they were safely up the mound on the other side of the ditch they would stare after us wide-eyed, until we waved. Then they would wave and shout “Jambo Mzungu!” or sometimes “Sweets? Sweets?” We passed one girl, probably 8 or 9, who turned just in time to see us. I waved and she sighed “Ah, Muzungu.” It sounded the way one might sigh over a favorite pet. “Oh, Mittens, did you chase that bird again today? You mischievous cat.” Sigh…
In town, I was browsing at an outdoor market and a little girl came to stand by me. She was probably three. She smiled up at me and whispered “Jambo.” then followed me around the shop. Sometimes she would pull on my skirt and I would look down and she would jump or twirl. I would applaud politely and she would blush and look away. She would play quietly with things I was looking at, then set them down and follow me around.
She was so sweet that I wanted to pick her up and hug her, but I figured that would be bad. Especially since her mother was sitting nearby and constantly calling her back.
Occasionally the little girl would turn and shake her head at her mother, or try to wave her away. But I think the woman enjoyed watching her show off for me as much as I did.
It was a real pity Travis had my camera at the time.
You all could have seen her sweet face.

Uganda!

Can you believe it?
It's our last day in Kenya. I still can't totally take it in, but we've been here two weeks already.
Tomorrow we'll get on a plane for Uganda, where we'll stay for 8 days, and then off to England for 2 days (Oxford, hurrah!)
And then home, where I'll be thrust into the second week of summer school and work.

And suddenly I realized that we took dozens of hours of video footage and like... 6 pictures.
So today I'm trying to fill my camera.

Maybe I'll put on different shirts every few hours so it doesn't look like we were only in Kenya one day.

And friends at home... STOP.
Do not get married without me. Do not get engaged without me. Do not up and leave forever to New York without me.
Too many things are happening there that I don't want to miss.

I keep waking up very distressed by my dreams.
A dream where Suzie says they're leaving before we get back and we'll never see them again.
A dream where both the Haggen girls get married, but a terrifying Gollum-type creature tries to sabotage them and kill their new husbands.
A dream where a friend at home gets engaged and decides to get married while we're still in Africa.

I do not approve of all this. Just pause all activities at home until I can come back and be a part of them.
Deal?

Then I don't have to make Travis come snuggle me since I wake up suddenly and find that I'm crying.
I miss you all.
And I will try to write as soon as I can, but who knows what the internet in Uganda is like?

love
becky

Kenya

I am so excited for Africa.
I get more excited every day.

I'm also terrified out of my mind, but I think that is normal, too.

These are videos Travis found online that are beautiful.
Hopefully we will be able to create documentaries that touch those who watch it, and connect them to people across the world.
Hopefully they will have some of the beauty that is in these documentaries.

The Dancer from Kensington on Vimeo.

(my favorite)

Kenya 2010 from Kensington on Vimeo.

I love Komaza

Another video for Africa!

Travis dear has finished editing a promo for Komaza, the agri-business we worked with in Kenya.

Its main purpose is to introduce someone to Kilifi and Komaza very simply (and prettily) but it doesn't relay tons of facts or information.

Those videos are still coming, and we still need to interview Komaza's founder Tevis (hopefully we will in the fall!) since he's been here in the US, not in Kenya.

Fingers crossed!

Komaza Teaser from travispitcher on Vimeo.

Pretty, isn't it?

And our very, very VERY talented friend Micah is a composer and he wrote the music for the next video. (Not the one you just watched)

This was up right after we got home, but now it has music, so it is much better.

Towards Africa (with music!) from travispitcher on Vimeo.

Asante Sanna Squash Banana

I think children in America know more Swahili than might be assumed.
Simba means Lion
Rafiki means Friend
Safari means trip or journey
Hakuna means No. As in No Worries. You know, Hakuna Matata.
Matata is problem or worry.
Jambo! is a greeting. But I’ve learned Jambo is more like an enthusiastic British “Alright?” than “Hello.”
The correct response to Jambo is Jambo.
Like alright?
Alright!
Sometimes they respond to Jambo with Jambo, Jambo!
It is very rude not to greet people when you pass. And we wave to everyone, and everyone here enthusiastically waves back. “Jambo Mzungu! Jambo!”

Yesterday I had a conversation with our Kenyan driver like this:
Peter: Your skin is already changing after only one day
Me: Yes, I always get darker in the sun. Does your skin change or does it stay the same all year?
Peter: Our skin maintains its color, but when we go to America we become whiter. I do not know why, but look at your president. If he came to Kenya he would get very dark, I think.
Me: Like a real African.
Peter: Yes. A real African man.
Me: What do you think of our president? I saw his picture painted on a bus.
Peter: We are all so very proud here in Kenya. We all love him.
Me: What do YOU think of him though?
Peter: I am very proud, yes. Not only that he is your president, but also that he is so very bright.

Later, Peter took me to buy a Kanga, a women’s skirt, and he asked the man working there something in Swahili.
“Yes, I thought so,” he said, and gave me a sneaky smile. He followed the Market man to the back, where he pulled out a long skirt. It was beautiful green and grey with a map of Africa on it. He unfolded it and there was a large picture of Obama’s face.
I absolutely bought that skirt. Though I told Peter later, it would be strange to wear in America.
“ Like wearing a Kabaki Kanga” said Matt, and Peter laughed and laughed. Kibaki is the Kenyan president. Actually, often when I introduce myself people think I am saying Kibaki. They all laugh and repeat, “Kibaki! Kibaki!”
Finally Matt told them, Becky is kidogo (small, or little) for Rebeccah. That made much more sense to them, since most people here have Biblical or Swaheli names.
After I bought my Kanga, I tried to tie it on, since it is essentially a large cloth that they wrap into a skirt. When we got to one of Komaza’s farms, where we were filming, there was a large group of women. They didn’t speak English, but they laughed when they saw my Kanga.
“Can you help me?” I asked, pointing to it.
They all covered their mouths and whispered and giggled, and finally one brave girl came over and wrapped it for me. “Asante Sanna,” I said and they laughed and clapped. Peter said, “They are saying you are very bright!”
Travis had walked away and I rushed to catch up with him. I stumbled and tripped in my skirt. All the women laughed and waved.
I walked down into the farm, constantly stumbling and retying my kanga. When I came back up the hill, men had also gathered and they laughed and cheered while the women whispered behind their hands and giggled.
Peter said, “The men say you look very smart!” I assume they meant that the British way, smart like attractive. It was very flattering.

The people here are unbelievably nice. In the city people were constantly helping us and staring at us and asking for money. But here in Kilifi they just want to say hello. They respond excitedly when you try to speak in their language. (All I can say is Hello, How are you? I am well. and a few basic other things like Thank you, My name is, and goodbye.) They cheer when you try to dress like them.
It makes me annoyed with Americans, who assume everyone who comes to the country should speak English, or dress in blue jeans. The Kenyan's don’t care how we dress, or talk.
They just appreciate it that we try.

Update on Africa

Remember how we're going to KENYA this summer to film a documentary?

Well NOW we're also going to UGANDA! We'll be filming two documentaries there as well for Help International. Travis did a doc for them last week for Tipping Bucket. (Check it out, and think about adding a drop to the bucket -- just a dollar donation is all they're asking for!)

Two of my friends will also be in Uganda with Help International this summer, Paige and Nicole and I'm excited to think I might get to see them working to change the world, and bring sight to the sightless. Check out the Help International Website, or just watch this three minute film and learn all 'bout what we be doing this summer.
YAY!


And if you've forgotten what we're doing in Kenya, then check out Komaza's website and learn a little bit more about micro farming. We'll be making a doc about them first!

Funding for Africa is hard work

Hi everyone!
For those of you who don't know, Travis and I are leaving in less than a week to spend some time in Africa. I admit, we've reached the freaking-out-a-bit stage.
Travis, (I think you might all know) is Documentary Film Maker, and is particularly interested in Short-form Documentaries, most are only somewhere between 2 and 15 minutes long.They're the kind of documentaries you see on YouTube or Vimeo.

We'll be making several such documentaries in Africa.

First in Kenya, we'll be working with KOMAZA. They're a social entrepreneurship that helps farmers afford drought-resistant fast-growing trees which can sell as a cash crop, helping the farmer get out of debt. But the trees also enrich the landscape and environment, making the good-effects for Kenya itself long term.

Then in Uganda we'll be working with HELP International. They help with dozens of different things, but we'll be working particularly with an Eye Camp. Because the houses and huts in Uganda have such poor ventilation, many people go blind when they are very young.HELP International provides eye-surgery or glasses to many people, as well as helping build adobe stoves that will prevent such problems from continuing.

We are super excited to go and really grateful for all the support of our friends and family.
I hate to ask for more, since many of you have really helped us out, but I'm going to.
We got a grant for 5,000$ to go film. But our flights alone cost 4,800$. After 400$ of shots, paying for our bills while we're gone (like rent and phone bills, etc), and buying last minute camera equipment we're pretty low in the hole, even after hours of fundraising.

If you could donate even a dollar (though we wouldn't say no to more) it would be an entire meal for us in Africa.
Please send checks to Help International (and don't forget to write Travis and Becky Pitcher in the memo line) at
HELP International
363 N. University Ave.
Suite 110
Provo, UT 84601


Or log on to PayPal and send us a few dollars that way.
My PayPal account email is rebeccah.louise@gmail.com

Thanks again, and we love you!
Becky

Bon Voyage! (I hope...)

And we're off. First to Colorado, London, then KENYA!

I'll try to write again soon.

Keep your fingers crossed that everything will go perfectly.

Being Mormon

I forget what it’s like to be a Mormon.
I forget that we’re different, peculiar even, anywhere outside of Utah.
In Provo I’m just another leaf on the tree, and believing in Christ doesn’t set me apart, it helps me blend in.

But I am different.
Here I feel it.
All our friends go out and have a glass of wine at dinner, and we don’t. They ask us why.
Travis says he lived in Argentina for two years on a mission trip and they ask why.
They say, get used to a lot of handshakes in Kenya and we say, we’re very good at handshaking because of our own culture. Why?
We say, Oh, we’re mormons.

I forget that it comes up every single day outside of Utah. And that saying “We’re mormons” isn’t enough because then they want to know:

Do you eat any barley or is it just beer you don’t drink? Do you drink caffeine? Are you against birth control? What exactly makes you different from other Christian religions? Do they just send you out on missions with a Bible and a good luck?
Our Muslim friend asked about our schedule and beliefs concerning prayer.
An agnostic friend wanted to discuss the nature of God and the spirit of the law, versus the letter of the law.
And after I was feeling a little guilty, like maybe they’re all sick of hearing about our beliefs or they feel like we’re judging them for drinking one girl said “I’m glad that you came, even for just two weeks. Before you came God was just a running joke. I didn’t feel like I could keep my religion here. ”

And a line of scripture came to me. Remember the worth of souls is great in the sight of God.
And I thought, I cannot stop being a mormon, or toning down my mormon-ness to make people feel more comfortable. I need to remind them, even if just through my own belief that God is real, that someone out there cares about them.
It's weird to think that maybe me being more makes people feel less uncomfortable.

I guess that’s what I miss most in Utah. I miss feeling like God can use me for something.
If he needs a tool in Provo to work a miracle or save a soul or just say a kindly word, he has hundreds of people to do it. People more qualified than me.
But in Kilfi, if he wants someone to feel like maybe it’s okay to be a Christian, or be reminded that there is a greater power than them in the world, or just discuss and ponder God…
he can use me.

My bishop isn’t here, my good roommates aren’t here, my entire University isn’t here.

Only I am.

And I like when it’s only me. Or, you know, me and Travis. Because that’s when I remember that we aren’t like other people and we don’t want to be.

We want to be like Christ.

Mormon.org

Some video from Africa!

If you are queesy: stop the film at 3minutes30seconds.

EyeCampRoughRun from travispitcher on Vimeo.

This is some footage from Uganda, it is (of course) beautifully shot and beautifully edited and I can take very little credit for either thing.
Although most days in Africa I helped film or work on sound, the hospital was very crowded I was more in the way than helpful inside. I babysat Travis's equipment though, since he could hardly have his giant backpack on inside. (You turn suddenly while wearing it and people get hit in the face, and if those people are blind they have no chance of avoiding your bag.)

For my Komaza friends, I'm sorry we don't have any Kenya footage to show you, but if you can manage to load this video on your very slow internet then this will at least give you an idea of what our footage will look like.

When you're watching it remember that this is a rough cut, and there will be narration explaining the Eye Camp. Here is what the narrator may say (beginning after the lady in pink says "I'm not looking proper"): In rural Uganda people have gone their entire lives without ever having their eyes checked. They gather together for a free exam, first having basic checkups by professional doctors and nurses. The doctors write prescriptions for free medications and give away free eye glasses, all fund-raised by the Tipping Bucket.
*The screen goes black*
But the real miracle is when sight is restored completely.
Many people, living blind with cataracts for years begin being preped for surgery to have the cataracts removed. The clouded lens is carefully cut from the eye and replaced with a new clear lens.
Then the film ends, but in reality the film will not end yet. The next morning when the bandages were removed people cried out, excited that they could see. A man saw his wife and daughter come in and could not stop looking at their faces, so grateful was he to finally see them. It was a really neat day and Travis (of course) captured it all so well.

Bleeding Heart

"You know the problem with being a bleeding heart?"

"Are you a bleeding heart?"

"Yes. I think so. Don't you think so?"

"Oh yes. I think bleeding heart, synonym: Travis Pitcher."

"Well, I am."

"So what's the problem?"

"You just let your heart bleed too much. Until you're out of blood."

"Then you stop caring? Or are you dead?"

"There's just so much wrong with the world. There's so much to do. I want to do something. Something real, something that matters. But if you let yourself care too much you just dry up until you're discouraged looking at everything that has to be done."

So, blog readers. Help Travis "bleeding heart" Pitcher out.

Everything I know about poverty, about women's rights, about child mortality, about the spread of disease, and about every major problem in the world tells me that problems could be solved if we had that one magic thing:

Education.

I know that my last post was a little anti-school. But really it was anti-useless school. Which is something, sometimes (when I'm sitting in a class about facebook or Victorian Literature) I feel like I am paying for.

Travis recently did a Tipping Bucket to help underprivileged kids right here in the USA get education.

Go donate a dollar asap.

But I just want to brag a teeny-tiny bit about my sweet bleeding heart husband.

Travis has made several films for the Tipping Bucket, most of which are helping raise money for education.

Travis has made a beautiful documentary for Komaza, an organization in Kenya helping farmers come out of poverty, and although they don't say it in the documentary I sat and listened to farmer after farmer say "the things I will spend this money on are school fees for my children."

Travis isn't changing laws or pushing bills or helping revolutions to rise.

But every time he helps make it possible for one more kid to go to school he changes their life.

He changes the lives of their families and their future posterity.

It's hard to look out at the world and see all the problems.

And it's really hard for some of us (me) to ever focus on the problems of anyone beside ourselves.

And I'm really proud of my bleeding heart husband.

And if you want to help, but don't quite know how...

start by donating a dollar.

WISHBONE- Dare Your Courage from travispitcher on Vimeo.

Questions about Africa

Yesterday a travel warning was issued by the US for Kenya. (Read the info here.)
We aren't really worried, since the warning is for the opposite side of the country, along the Somalian and Ethiopian borders, and because it warns especially against big cities, riots, etc and we will be in a tiny town far from cities, but it has given us food for thought.
And I suspect it will worry our mothers and grandmothers.

SO. Here is a proposition. No matter how many times you call and say, "Where will you be sleeping?" I forget to ask.
But we're have a skype call with Komaza (the organization) soon and we're going to write down all of our questions for them ahead of time.
If you have any questions to add to the list, PLEASE leave them in the comments.
Don't just call and tell me, I'll forget.
I assure you, I will forget.

Also, you may leave questions, comments, or concerns even if you are not my mother or grandmother.

Keeping the Sabbath Day Holy

is not our strong suit in Africa.
But, family, before you become upset please know that if we hadn’t gone shopping all day yesterday then you would not get any of the sweet presents that we’re bringing home to you.
Think about that when you receive them.
Or don’t. That might make you appreciate them less.

Anyway, our schedule yesterday was this:
In the morning we got up bright and early and put on some Sunday-type clothes. (We seriously looked like homeless people compared to the Kenyans in their white shirts and ties.)
And we drove the hour and a half to Mombassa to go to church. We were joined by three friends who left with Books of Mormon (of course). The Mombasa LDS branch was wonderful. It was comprised mainly by relatively newly-converted Africans and like three white people from Utah.
The talks were very sweet and powerful, and everyone excitedly asked us, “Will you be here next week? Are you here to stay?”
It was disappointing to say no. I like those small tight-knit groups of Mormons. It’s more like what I’m used to.
Afterwards we went to lunch and then out for some mmmmm! authentic and delicious Italian Gelati. It was JUST the thing in all that heat. I got strawberry and coconut and it tasted so fruity and sweet.
We spent a few hours after that exploring Mombasa, since it was our only chance (tomorrow is our last day in Kenya! WHAT?!) and bought some really cool things for our family, and (need I say it?) ourselves. I am the best at talking people down from the high prices they ask of us, if I do say so myself.
The trick, as our friend Rajiv so nicely put it: “Do not want the things you are trying to buy.”
Most conversations go like this:
Me: What is the price of this necklace?
Kenyan: 1,500 shillings. (that’s almost 20 US dollars!)
Me: Oh. [put the necklace back]
Kenyan: You do not want it?
Me: No, it costs too much.
Kenyan: It is Sunday, so I give it to you for 1,200 shillings.
Me: No, I can’t pay so much. I can only pay 500.
Kenyan: No, no! 800.
Me: Two for 800?
Kenyan: No, no. One for 800.
Me: That’s okay. I will not buy it. I will look elsewhere.
Kenyan: No, no. 500 shillings.

SCORE!
But 500 shillings for a necklace is still absurd. People were literally giving things away to Peter, saying “Thank you for bringing me customers, rafiki.”
When he asked the price for a necklace like the one I had to fight for they said 300 shillings and he could then fight them down to 200.
That’s less than three times what I paid.
I’m sick of the mzungu-price. Peter often explains (in Swahili) “These are my friends, they are not rich tourists, they are students. They are making a movie for Komaza.” He’s really the best bargainer we have. He can often get them to accept the “Local price,” reserved for Kenyans only.

After a long hot day of haggling (all while wearing clothes, despite my awful sunburn) I got very sick driving home. I went straight to bed, at about 5:30, but had to get up to babysit soon after.
Travis was recording a demo CD for another of our Kenyan drivers, Osito. His whole band was there, including a couple with two small girls. Beatrice, 5 and Abigail whom Beatrice said was 3, but whom I suspect was only 1 or 2.
At first they were very shy and Abigail would cry whenever I or another mzungu looked at or spoke to her. Neither of them spoke English. I haltingly told them my name, and asked theirs. And soon we were playing like with any 5 year-old.
I would chase Beatrice and tickle her and then let her escape and she would laugh and squeal. Then I turned on some music and we danced until I nearly collapsed from exhaustion. (she loved Abba and Beyonce) She sat me down and sang to me in Swahili. She would raise her arms above her head and close her eyes dramatically. Then open them and march and dance around the room singing. It was so much like my own 5 year-old sister Kathryn.
It’s easy to think that I’m different from the Kenyans, but when we play with the kids its SO clear that they’re all just kids, even if they grew up in a mud hut. The kids here are the same as the kids anywhere.
Beatrice also LOVED ice and we had a freezer full. I got myself a cup of ice water and plunked a cube into her glass and after that she was hooked. She pulled out an entire tray of half-frozen ice and (with a spoon) quickly ate every piece.
After that, she would walk sneakily to the freezer every few minutes and pull open the freezer. If I didn’t come help her get a piece of ice she would spend a few minutes touching every cube, trying to pry it out.
I showed her we could take her picture and she was quick to figure out how to use photobooth on my laptop. (Amazing, right? It was like nothing she’d ever seen, but even she totally understood it. Kids blow my mind.)
Later Eve joined us. She is a Kenyan and good friend of Osito’s, but she works for the Government and has very good English and a WAY nicer car than any of our American friends. She stuck a DVD of gospel music videos into my computer and it was hilarious to see Beatrice and Abigail’s reactions. They both knew every single line in every song and stared at the computer screen, singing along and dancing.
They could not be distracted.
It was great. After a while our other roommates came home and our friend Leah came over and we all talked and played. Leah brought some warm, freshly made banana bread and it was delicious! I may or may not have eaten half of it myself.
The Kenyan girls didn’t like it very much, but they were more than happy to eat a bowlful of the spaghetti noodles and lentils that we had for dinner.
And by the end of the evening, Abigail still didn’t want me to hold her, but she happily held my hand when we went to find her Mama after the recording and waved saying “Bye, Bye, Bye!” when they left.
All in all, I was exhausted when I went to bed…
but happy.
It was definitely our best weekend in a long time.