A tiny African country ...

Along the road from the airport where you arrive ....

In Sao Tome for the umpteenth time, the sun is shining, it's 85 degrees, and I'm warm all the way through.  Nice.

Sao Tome & Principe is one of the world's smallest countries; a couple of islands in Africa's Gulf of Guinea.  Blessed with a tropical climate and beauty, the place is unknown to most folks.  Poverty encumbers most of the population, but the prolific forests produce bananas, breadfruit, jacque, and mangoes.

It's the end of the school year here at the elementary school.  The principal and teachers begin final exams for the fourth graders.  Today, it's Portuguese language, grammar, and literature.  Tomorrow, it's math, science, biology, and geography.  They have 6 years of government funded education.  After that, it's expensive and most don't have the opportunity.

Outside the city, friends walk me through their newly expanded garden.  What do you call it when it's about 500' square?

They've put a lot of work into cultivating the land they have.  Bananas, corn, green beans, okra, manioc, and several things for which I don't have names.

Manioc (or cassava root, photo left) is a big deal in Africa.  It's the basic diet for around 500 million people.  Good for carbs, no protein though.  Here in Sao Tome, it's a fill-in with the rest of what the land produces. 

Oh, and sugar cane.  It grows well here.

Dad has run a water line to the area so they can irrigate during the dryer season if they need to.  They're on the equator and on an island, so the rain is fairly reliable, fortunately.

Five kids, all but the youngest help in the fields.  The youngest would gladly join in, but she's just too small.  Three schools for the kids, one a mile east, another two miles west, and the last a couple of miles beyond that.  There's a bus for the two farthest schools.

 At the southernmost shore of the island, an incredible beach is at the end of a long trail through the forest.

Out for a day's adventure with a bunch of local teens, we've made this trek before, but they like it.  The palm trees provide a mid-day drink and snack.  A couple dozen coconuts go in the back of the truck for mom when we get back.

Nino and Mulere down by the shore

Gorgeous place, wonderful people.  Here's how we wound up here.
A good place for adventurous tourists?  Absolutely.  For the faint-hearted?  Hardly.  This is the road less traveled.

The 2/3's World

Those of us in the developed world have little idea how fortunate we are with our running water, electricity, health care, employment, and accessible food.

Much of the world offers things we've never seen up close before.  Here in the Horn of Africa, the terrain is rugged, the climate is harsh, and the trees are shaped funny.

The thorns are 2" long!

The shape, it turns out, isn't what the tree had in mind.  The trees are shaped that way by camels who prune the lower branches.  Here while I watch, a seven-foot tall camel reaches up for the tiny leaves nestled among long thorns. 

Camels are not particularly friendly; I'm told they spit, although none have in my presence.  Yet.

This juvenile camel belongs to some friends of mine; she sings like a gurgling drain pipe.

The children invited me home to meet mom and dad and siblings and camels.  Gracious folks in a difficult place.  They're fortunate though to have three camels and several goats.  It's what you do here instead of a bank account.

Dad and one of his camels; he's holding some pictures I brought from an earlier visit as a friendship gift for him and the family.  

Pink seems prevalent in the wardrobe today; couldn't pass up the cute photo opportunity with one of the family's younger members.

We wave goodbye in hope of 

meeting again later this year.

Their simple home; you can see the absence of vegetation here, and water is hand carried, of course.  This is what life is like, more or less, in one version or another, for most of the world.  Those of us in the developed world have little idea how fortunate we are to have running water, electricity, health care, employment, and plenty to eat.  Little idea at all.

OK, what comes next? 

She's holding a sparkly ball that lights up; you can see the light on her chin.  Laughing right up until I pull
 out the camera, then suddenly serious.  Sweet folks; they graciously made a place for me in their day. 
We even went in my truck (about 12 of us) down to the beach for a swim.

Just looking around; my African friends live in a world where their
 income will always be small, perhaps $1000 - $3000/year.
 Healthcare will be rare; and for their babies, survival will be
20 times less successful.

Listening is hard work!

Spotting me as a foreigner, they stop and chat for awhile.

In Africa again for work, and a late afternoon provides a chance to pick up some local friends and go to the beach.  Teenage boys introduce themselves and pose for the old guy's camera.

Note the impressive abs.  His friend quips in jest, "He's malnourished!"  It gives you an idea of the issues around here.  Nice guys, by the way.

Language difficulties aside, it takes hours and days and years to understand someone else's world whether it is Africa or Arkansas.

I didn't think it would be so difficult.  I'm well educated, well read, well traveled, but still far from understanding what it means to be Kenyan or Nigerian or Djiboutian.  Every encounter broadens our view if we're attentive.  Listening is really hard work!

Kids drag me to the water to play.

On the bright side, there is such a wide world open to us who are fortunate enough to travel.  Families with simple lives are often open to new friends and willing to include us.  What could be greater than having friends, real friends, outside the little world you know and find comfortable.

Have you thought of jumping out into the real world?

Wish I'd started earlier.  :)

Ethiopia and beyond ...

In Ethiopia for a just a day on the way to work, I stopped by to visit folks I know.  I brought prints of the photos I'd taken a year before as a friendship gift.  They enjoyed them, and I had a little while to chat and laugh and meet some parents.

The folks are gracious enough to let me see a bit of what their world is like, which I appreciate.  It's not like my world at all.

Finishing school is difficult; costs are hard on most families.  Employment opportunities are few unless you're connected to the upper class.

It was Sunday, and folks were in their best outfits.  Grandpa and grandson posed for a photo in front of their simple home.  A handsome pair; I'll deliver this and a few dozen more later this year.

The new neighborhood!  A government housing project provides simple apartments for folks being relocated from inner-city areas.  It's a big step up for my friends; they pay 800 EB a month, about $48.  It's a bit of an effort to pay, but they're working hard, and in 15 yrs they'll own it.  They're really pleased, and so am I.

In their simple new home, momma roasts coffee beans so she can serve me coffee.  She does it every time I visit; it's a welcoming formality I think. It's really strong.

Spent some time with the boys; one in university and the other working on an employment plan.  I get to participate and help them with pulling things together.



Visiting one of the world's larger slum areas, I get to visit friends from earlier years.  These kids and their families are acquaintances I've encountered a few times; they're growing taller, the kids are.  Unemployment is around 80% here, so prospects for these kids are pretty grim.  Three of the four here are really nice.  One, not so much.

Outside the city on a road into the desert, kids run out to flag us down so they can ask for money.

It's our second time today with this bunch of kids, so we stop again and give what we have and take the opportunity to meet the family.  Nice folks living in a harsh environment.  Agriculture doesn't work here; the country lives on aid from the developed world.  We take the opportunity to help the family with enough for a month's food.  Dad, mom, and nine children.

Welcome sir; this is our home.  Come see!  This is my dad and this is my mom and this is my goat ....

With precious little rain during the year, the land can't support a garden, but a few goats survive and provide some milk for the family.  And a camel; they have a juvenile camel which I think is the dowry for the older daughter.

I'll check in on this particular family in a few months.
We're still looking for a reputable NGO in the area through which we might offer more meaningful help.

It's official; Djibouti is next on the schedule beginning in January.  Mid-February for me; via Ethiopia, too.


Yep, that's a camel in the middle of the road there.  You get used to it.

Sunny and warm; the weather in the city today is perhaps typical for New Year's day in the region.  Out in the desert, it'll be a bit different, of course.  By February, I'll have had plenty of winter; Africa will be a pleasant change.

It's a difficult place.  Crime is a problem.  Violence is common.  Refugees from Somalia have overtaxed local resources.  Work is scarce for all with national unemployment above 50%.  It's even higher out here on the edge of the city.  This is Balbala in the photo where some of our friends live.  You can see power lines in the area, but they don't serve the residents.  Few here can afford it.

Many who do have work are just day workers.  A friend of mine is a driver; if there's a load to deliver, he works today and gets paid.  It's hard to provide for your family.  Sweet folks, though, most of them. 

Email yesterday from Balbala; a young man I met a few years ago is married now and has a new baby.  We'd lost track of each other since '09 but will have a chance to reconnect this year.

This is the Horn of Africa where the famine has placed millions at risk.  The port here in Djibouti is where most aid shipments for the area arrive.  It's a harsh place.  God give us a better new year for these dear people.

... the one less traveled

The Road Not Taken

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveler, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim

Because it was grassy and wanted wear;

Though as for that the passing there

Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I kept the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way,

I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I -

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.

                                    ~ Robert Frost

Salma is in her wheelchair with Joseph pushing; 
Helen, Oliver, and Joel escort me back to the

 road to say goodbye.  It's perhaps half a 
mile, a gesture of affection that they 
would make the trek.  I've been in 
Mombasa for only a few days, 
but we had time together.
Now it's time to leave.

From our world 
to theirs       
and back.  
What a journey.

OK, this is way too sober and serious.  So for a counterpoint, here's my brother Samuel.  He made the trip up to Guruguru to visit the kids we've been helping to stay in school.  He threw a little Christmas celebration with them just to let them know they're loved.
We're hoping to build a church/preschool/community center there sometime soon.