A Season of Growth

A few days ago everyone at the farm got out and planted trees. It was a quite an emotional moment for me because I was trying to imagine the day when all the trees had matured and where all the kids would be at that time. My emotions can get carried away while looking into the eyes of these precious children whom God has specifically chosen to be here at Challenge Farm. So here we were planting what will someday become quite a forest. After taking many pictures of the kids and their trees, one of the staff members asked if I’d planted my tree yet. I was surprised and excited that I got to plant a tree of my own. Better yet, it was an acacia tree, which is my favorite. The Acacia has about 42 varieties and I have no idea which one mine is, but I didn’t really care either. I was just happy to have one.

English Grammar practice

One of the most creative teachers I’ve ever known is working here at Challenge Farm. He is just over 50. Teachers are required to retire at 50, so when the public school system let him go, Challenge Farm grabbed him up. He is now our head teacher even though he’s just been here since January. Teacher Joseph is one of two teachers at Challenge Farm who allows me to help with his classes. Others says they would like help (which is the Kenyan courtesy), when they really don't. Teacher Joseph gets very excited to try new methods, and he gets me excited as well. The pictures I’ve posted are from a game we played with Class Seven to practice grammar. It was great because I rarely see the teachers do many fun activities or even deviate from writing on the board and having the students copy. I think Class Seven, being outside and playing to practice grammar, made the other classes quite jealous.

our running path

I wanted everyone to see the route Whitney and I run each Saturday for our training. It is beautiful. Last Saturday we decided to take a camera with us to see what it was like running and taking pictures at the same time. We want to be able to photograph every animal we see next Saturday!



The African running toward the camera had tried running with me for a while. They really get a kick out of watching us each Saturday.

This was the first Saturday I noticed a shop that has Texas as part of it's name. How crazy!

Scholar, Rick, and Maximilla

For those of you that have consistently kept up with my blog you might remember my asking prayers for Maximilla who left the Farm back in December with her baby Rick. Last week I walked outside only to turn see her there holding her baby. I ran over to give them both a hug. She had come to the Farm because Rick is sick with Malaria. The staff has asked her to stay for a few days so that he can get better and be properly fed. Look at the photo of Rick at one year and two months old. He looks about the same size he was in December. She lives in the main slum here in Kitale and doesn't feed him properly but somehow manages to get some of the local booze for herself. Back in December, our director offered to take care of Rick at Challenge Farm since she didn't have the means but she refused. We are all worried for his life. Please pray for Maximilla and her baby. The other girl in the photo is Maximilla's sister Scholar who currently lives and schools with us. She is having a rough time seeing her nephew sick.

Topless and Fancy Free

Each Saturday Whitney and I do our long runs in preparation for the 1/2 marathon.
Saturday was a running experience I will never forget. It was one
filled with so much laughter that we had to stop many times just to
regain composure.

It all began at Challenge Farm where we parked the car. We had
only been running for a few minutes when we encountered a topless
woman doing a tribal dance in the middle of the dirt road. The sun was right in our eyes so Whitney missed the obvious fact that the person dancing was a woman. As we passed her Whitney said, “I wonder what he is doing.” I remarked, "I believe you mean what is she doing?” At that moment we heard someone running behind us. Reluctantly we turned around and saw that the woman had decided to run with us. I thought she’d follow us to the main road and stop. There was this moment of silence in our conversation as Whitney and I tried to stifle what was about to become very loud laughter. Not everyday do we run with a topless woman.

We arrived at the end of the street and turned onto the main
paved road where she kept following us. She was running
effortlessly while talking in Kiswahili. It seemed like she
had found her long lost running buddies and just picked up right
where she left off. She scared us, though, as she was running right down the middle of the road whereas we were safely tucked away on the side. The matatus and cars had to dodge her as they drove up. Luckily we weren’t on the main road for long and turned down another dirt road.

Imagine two white women running down the streets on a Saturday morning and then add a crazy topless African woman and you might be able to picture the stares we were getting from people in cars, on bikes, and walking. I’m still impressed that we were able to trudge on, but then we were determined to get through our long run. Our ½ marathon depended on it.

It really wasn’t so bad running with her once we sll the chuckles out of our system and blocked our minds against her smell since wearing deoderant isn’t
something most Africans do. It did begin to become a problem when
her running went from running close by us to nearly running on top of
us. We began weaving from one side to the other to try and get some
distance but it wasn’t working. Whitney then told her in Kiswahili to stop running so close to us and she did. She stopped dead in her tracks after running
with us for 2 miles. Whitney and I ran on. Another 2 miles down the
road we encountered her again only this time she was walking and
holding a very dirty wet potato sack. She waited for a moment until we got closer and headed straight for Whitney, giving her a smack on the neck with the sack. I guess that solved the mystery of just what she thought when Whitney asked her to stop running. Whitney yelled out, “Mama, Mama!” which is how to refer to
a woman with respect. The woman just walked on her way not doing
anything else. For the next mile (this is now mile 5) we had to stop
over and over due to laughter.

It’s been one week since this story took place. We ran for 10 miles
this morning around the same area. Whitney was a little worried
about running into Topless Mama but we made it through without any
sighting of her. Next week is our last long run, which will be
12 miles, before the race on the 28th.

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