tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-57599655124809526392024-02-07T12:38:39.375-08:00Visible Grace Travel BlogVisible Grace is a non profit working in Nairobi, Kenya. Our mission is to raise up healthy leaders by providing shelter and education to children in need. Want to know more? Email us at info(@)visiblegrace(.)orgAshbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08134954791523833470noreply@blogger.comBlogger152125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5759965512480952639.post-1914512187045305882012-09-13T13:52:00.001-07:002012-09-13T13:52:48.330-07:00see ya later, blog. I'm out. We have moved!<br />
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I mean: my awesome friend Nate has graciously re-built our website, including a page for my blog, which means I don't have to (poorly and unsuccessfully) try to keep both my website and my blog up-to-date!<br />
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To follow my antics and shenanigans, please visit the <a href="http://visiblegrace.org/blog/">blog link</a> on our website. (Oh, hey look, there's a <a href="http://visiblegrace.org/dilemmas-and-sentence-fragments/">new blog entry</a> for you to read!) <br />
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Take a look around our new and improved <a href="http://visiblegrace.org/">website</a>, and please keep reading my blog there. : )<br />
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Thanks, dear friends. Ashby and Abramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00100265692802974284noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5759965512480952639.post-84904288404681180552012-08-23T12:04:00.002-07:002012-08-23T12:07:28.484-07:00furniture please.In a stunning contrast to my post about the slums, we now want to provide children with beds, meals, clothing and other wonderful things that they are currently living without.<br />
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Imagine a child who sleeps on the floor, eats one meal a day and is torn apart by mosquitos at night.<br />
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Now imagine that child being tucked into bed, kissed goodnight, clean and safe, belly full.
You can help us furnish our home by donating just $10. Find out more here: <a href="http://www.causes.com/causes/105908-visible-grace/actions/1676835">Visible Grace update</a>.<br />
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And...<i>thank you</i>. Ashby and Abramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00100265692802974284noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5759965512480952639.post-11202558935669370422012-08-12T13:47:00.000-07:002012-08-12T13:47:27.492-07:00slumsWe went to the slums last weekend. For a week now, I've been tossing words around in my head and on my laptop. I want to show you how people live. I want to show you their desperation, and their joy. I want you to understand, and I want you to mourn with me, and I want you to join me in this crazy endeavour; I want you to be as determined as I am to find housing, find parents, find security, find a better way for these kids.<br />
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There HAS to be a better way.<br />
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But words elude me.Ashby and Abramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00100265692802974284noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5759965512480952639.post-50071749426143591872012-07-27T10:16:00.001-07:002012-07-27T10:28:09.015-07:00T shirts! or, How I Saved the World Eleven Dollars At a Time.Most of you already have a t shirt or two, so...I need your help selling the rest! Sell them to your friends! Your neighbours! Your co workers! Give them to people as wedding gifts!<br />
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No, seriously.<br />
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We have a few t shirts left in each size (and some sizes are sold out...read below) and not only would my parents like their basement back, but <b><u>I would like to make a little more money so we can finish our building over here. </u></b><br />
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A lot of you have given what you can, and that's great. Your generosity astounds me daily. But we need more. More people, more money, more <i>energy </i>poured into this wonderful, beautiful project.<br />
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<i>So would you please do me a favour, and share this post?</i> Link it to your blog, your facebook page, your twitter page...instagram it. Pin it. Share it! Please please please? And thank you.<br />
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We have <b><i>our new(er) t shirts, which are $9.50</i></b> plus shipping: <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAvY3FhyPZwtSN1xBAOyAlFptvboaOEnBQsjzJDdLa_au3qJbkUdSIBlZ1iVqDVi48_lcghbpAE2p12ySh2ft2VPbdbjZkJKu1iZFU-4R7cCd_gOmrhldUWyDsMK9AovZg5s6meetctXMi/s1600/vg+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAvY3FhyPZwtSN1xBAOyAlFptvboaOEnBQsjzJDdLa_au3qJbkUdSIBlZ1iVqDVi48_lcghbpAE2p12ySh2ft2VPbdbjZkJKu1iZFU-4R7cCd_gOmrhldUWyDsMK9AovZg5s6meetctXMi/s320/vg+1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Which, as you can see, are not only beautiful and interesting, but make you look cool when you are hiking, exploring, taking pictures, kissing your loved one or catching a frisbee in mid-air.<br />
(The text is our mission statement, basically.)<br />
<br />
(<b>Please note: <u>women's run ridiculously small</u>, because American Apparel has special ideas about the human body. Buy at least once size bigger than you normally would.) </b><br />
<br />
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<input name="cmd" type="hidden" value="_s-xclick" />
<input name="hosted_button_id" type="hidden" value="6KD3EGY4SFGL2" />
<br />
<table>
<tbody>
<tr><td><input name="on0" type="hidden" value="Grey Africa Shirts with White Text:" />Grey Africa Shirts with White Text: ($9.50)</td></tr>
<tr><td><select name="os0">
<option value="Women's small">Women's small</option>
<option value="Women's large">Women's large</option>
<option value="Women's extra large">Women's extra large</option>
<option value="Women's XXL">Women's XXL</option>
<option value="Men's small">Men's small</option>
<option value="Men's medium">Men's medium</option>
<option value="Men's large">Men's large</option>
<option value="Men's extra large">Men's extra large</option>
<option value="Men's XXL">Men's XXL</option>
</select> </td></tr>
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</form>
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<br />
<br />
And we have<b><u><i> our original t-shirts, which are $7.50</i></u></b> plus shipping: <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA2szZpNhIjIyW0d4gAJKYVDGakoCAe-GmZMNnA8Dv29RaI0X3Y6GRuhAi4pdwVW084b7w6CoVkWMYoEzh2v33qsrEGuv2V_x7McygSwIzHMnNL-X32cRcr0kTA6HrMp_ZB0jkg3136H5g/s1600/nalia.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA2szZpNhIjIyW0d4gAJKYVDGakoCAe-GmZMNnA8Dv29RaI0X3Y6GRuhAi4pdwVW084b7w6CoVkWMYoEzh2v33qsrEGuv2V_x7McygSwIzHMnNL-X32cRcr0kTA6HrMp_ZB0jkg3136H5g/s1600/nalia.JPG" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4IaERI0UNxDb-gJ13qE5WFKqcN-UeymMSrAeHrv-SqGUI4xUdYeQAp86G0lGutpd2t1rw4ELk-WcAOtAUop_zobT9_rjTjosxCyBltFiXQv_Lp3HOxymOwOHh4D0oy-iaGAzbnDkN9RRI/s1600/IMG_2195%5B1%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4IaERI0UNxDb-gJ13qE5WFKqcN-UeymMSrAeHrv-SqGUI4xUdYeQAp86G0lGutpd2t1rw4ELk-WcAOtAUop_zobT9_rjTjosxCyBltFiXQv_Lp3HOxymOwOHh4D0oy-iaGAzbnDkN9RRI/s320/IMG_2195%5B1%5D.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuY1oYfmID_VzpKKiJ22gdraV44QkYG1bb2z96zUxjzUNtJtnq50e5n1ts2GKxFzGh7TB2fLKUeXKon3KbQzE7wLINZzfu8jgIBnR9VwFCRalUkdWucp5K7daYQ946G89cZfkWfOpQIo-X/s1600/VGtshirtsRedWhiteBrownTeal.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuY1oYfmID_VzpKKiJ22gdraV44QkYG1bb2z96zUxjzUNtJtnq50e5n1ts2GKxFzGh7TB2fLKUeXKon3KbQzE7wLINZzfu8jgIBnR9VwFCRalUkdWucp5K7daYQ946G89cZfkWfOpQIo-X/s1600/VGtshirtsRedWhiteBrownTeal.jpg" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN05d0uDFe3kmtg0mnYN704ozPcw1vYKW6IovHipoQ9oxP93FF7MPQRtC_tYIKNtLywxZr8u3pb3ky3WW0a85HJ8F5MWc83om8Ms0oD8RDGsM3fb5McCfP4DThG5dfK3pkEu0Nxcwr7wUa/s1600/VGtshirtWhiteRed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN05d0uDFe3kmtg0mnYN704ozPcw1vYKW6IovHipoQ9oxP93FF7MPQRtC_tYIKNtLywxZr8u3pb3ky3WW0a85HJ8F5MWc83om8Ms0oD8RDGsM3fb5McCfP4DThG5dfK3pkEu0Nxcwr7wUa/s1600/VGtshirtWhiteRed.jpg" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPEVLXA_cN_NIXYjgMdGyuWzcYX5jxE32Shu2UMA92grJskRWxLwirosgkuXrBQXMeTvINLcQMZnRPmZbMmG_Ko4kEKdxgBIPpleQFrbszS2qKVBlMfgHydWQQT9weCrCLgkzBWyqpaAZq/s1600/leonard.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPEVLXA_cN_NIXYjgMdGyuWzcYX5jxE32Shu2UMA92grJskRWxLwirosgkuXrBQXMeTvINLcQMZnRPmZbMmG_Ko4kEKdxgBIPpleQFrbszS2qKVBlMfgHydWQQT9weCrCLgkzBWyqpaAZq/s320/leonard.jpg" width="237" /></a></div>
Which are on super sale, and, are sweatshop free and made in the US.<br />
<br />
Also, the more I think about this message, the more I like them. The text reads, 'This shirt is a fence, a well, a library and hope'. And it is. We are actually BUILDING, and will soon provide kids with security and material comforts and books and pencils and clothing and a future. And it's because of YOU.<br />
.<br />
(Woman's sizes are slightly less ridiculous, but shrink- so I'd buy a size up again. Sorry.) <br />
<br />
<span id="goog_2143336515"></span><span id="goog_2143336516"></span>
<br />
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<tr><td><input name="on0" type="hidden" value="Original Acacia Tree Shirts:" />Original Acacia Tree Shirts: ($7.50)</td></tr>
<tr><td><select name="os0">
<option value="Women's white w/teal writing, small">Women's white w/teal writing, small</option>
<option value="Women's white w/teal writing, large">Women's white w/teal writing, large</option>
<option value="Women's white w/teal writing, extra large">Women's white w/teal writing, extra large</option>
<option value="Women's brown with blue writing, extra small">Women's brown with blue writing, extra small</option>
<option value="Men's red with white writing, large">Men's red with white writing, large</option>
<option value="Men's red with white writing, extra large">Men's red with white writing, extra large</option>
<option value="Men's grey with maroon writing, small">Men's grey with maroon writing, small</option>
<option value="Men's grey with maroon writing, medium">Men's grey with maroon writing, medium</option>
<option value="Men's grey with maroon writing, large">Men's grey with maroon writing, large</option>
</select> </td></tr>
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<br />
In conclusion, you should buy a shirt RIGHT NOW. Or, you should tell your friends to buy one </form>Ashby and Abramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00100265692802974284noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5759965512480952639.post-49214023905483125682012-07-19T13:15:00.001-07:002012-07-19T13:18:54.944-07:00Food Distribution in the SlumsOver the past few years, as we've been developing our plans and raising the money to finish our home, Susan and I have worked to establish a relationship with the people who live in the slum near our apartment. We want them to know who we are, and know Visible Grace well, and, to be honest, I am so eager to be doing something, anything to help- so we go to the slums and we visit people, bringing them prayers and food and clothing.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieTaehJF44vCp6gjLmGKPNo2LF6hh4KuayYVJGEikLziobpoJv5neFiGmtUWKgeNCKxsUCNbQzKXBg5dnorpZf5nelWS4YfMAhxlQmUvfuYAGOV2uotcQr45sVZBWay2eANAg9caKe2Sax/s1600/slum+pic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieTaehJF44vCp6gjLmGKPNo2LF6hh4KuayYVJGEikLziobpoJv5neFiGmtUWKgeNCKxsUCNbQzKXBg5dnorpZf5nelWS4YfMAhxlQmUvfuYAGOV2uotcQr45sVZBWay2eANAg9caKe2Sax/s400/slum+pic.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The slums that run behind Ngong Town</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="description clearfix">
Millions of people in Kenya survive on $2 or less per day. This is
not enough to thrive. We want to go into the slums near
Saturday, July 28th to distribute food and clothing to our neighbours
there.
<br />
<br />
$8.50 will buy groceries for a family for one week. We want to raise
enough money to feed twenty families...or more! Can you help?
<br />
<br />
Next weekend I will post pictures of my time in the slums as well as
details about how we are trying to help the kids who live there. Some
of the orphaned children from this area will be the ones living on our
land!</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUOYqyitQoIq36FDY0QlfXx0v54OVloQghoe4O__V7W8jH41tngwcucxR1lOtUUK1m3BMTpMYliMCXa9dWbUvuZMbPgPfxEbMuXr8iFknSkFY-cmfuv_-tPI7tBJMzIGpGkkRneXJlD53s/s1600/slums+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUOYqyitQoIq36FDY0QlfXx0v54OVloQghoe4O__V7W8jH41tngwcucxR1lOtUUK1m3BMTpMYliMCXa9dWbUvuZMbPgPfxEbMuXr8iFknSkFY-cmfuv_-tPI7tBJMzIGpGkkRneXJlD53s/s400/slums+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of the children we met in the slums last year.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="description clearfix">
<br />
<b>We need 20 people to donate $8.50 apiece</b>. If this is something you are interested in doing-<u> having an immediate and positive impact on someone in need</u>- please click on the PayPal button to the right of this post. All donations are tax deductible!<br />
<br />
Thank you in advance for your generosity! </div>Ashby and Abramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00100265692802974284noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5759965512480952639.post-9821700274754229362012-07-18T15:56:00.004-07:002012-07-18T22:12:29.887-07:00on the personal side: a day in the life of AshbyA few of you have asked me what I do every day.<br />
<br />
This morning we had visitors- Wilson's cousins- who I enjoyed meeting a lot! I ended up picking their brains about second hand children's clothing, sustainable farming, bio-gas, and solar power. because of course I did. I'm an Oregonian on a mission. They are going to take me clothes shopping (once we have kids to shop for, of course) and I'm confident we'll be getting the best bargain possible. <br />
<br />
Then I went to Ngong to scope out the market (think farmer's market, but a tiny bit noisier) and a couple wholesale stores to figure out the MOST affordable way to feed our (future) kiddos. This involved riding three different buses, saying hi to whoever I ran into who recognized or knew me, and buying myself a shawl in Ngong because it was super cold today... I splurged on a cup of real coffee and spent some time making notes in my journal. I have so many nerdy menu ideas for our kids (basically I want kids! now!)<br />
<br />
On my way home, I stopped at the grocery store near our apartment to buy some vinegar. On my way out they gave me free clothespins and soap! Susan is jealous and said they never give her free stuff. Ha! My new idea is asking for free stuff every time we go to the store, and saving it all up for VG. So far we have...20 clothespins and one bar of soap. <br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGM4svCRrKjQLUFT2J3QwWtgc6-vttwVCZMK_vE7pzLP1yLTEXUCPOGi94ZlwjFiMmO0r7GifJauJ-Er79xZGk81-2MpBU3p5PQzJoD5lWp83jxsHGRg1IsSHPJGFMk6XrlrQPvG24Om4m/s1600/IMG_4329%5B1%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGM4svCRrKjQLUFT2J3QwWtgc6-vttwVCZMK_vE7pzLP1yLTEXUCPOGi94ZlwjFiMmO0r7GifJauJ-Er79xZGk81-2MpBU3p5PQzJoD5lWp83jxsHGRg1IsSHPJGFMk6XrlrQPvG24Om4m/s320/IMG_4329%5B1%5D.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Your day probably isn't complete without a picture of me and my niece. I get it. Mine isn't complete without it either.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Finally finally home- with Susan's help I tied the baby onto my back, and then I started cutting up tomatoes and onions for dinner. Dinner, I should mention, is no small task. EVERYthing is made from scratch. Everything. Homemade croutons. Homemade tomato sauce. Homemade salad dressing. I learned how to light a charcoal stove today.<br />
<br />
(Dinner by the way was awesome- soybeans in homemade bbq sauce, rice, a green salad and garlic bread. I win.)<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL2XmQFZlWwjSfRbM1eEq0Qg0of9DKiN78x35UGCCH4CxV9qF0U6GU9b2oAkKJ1fUdL0UevA1wwXbTCjFA6-PqMQf8It46LVGXZek0qP51CUKgD631luthyDOYdUDNvQ3AN5-zBQmI6pdx/s1600/IMG_4343%5B1%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL2XmQFZlWwjSfRbM1eEq0Qg0of9DKiN78x35UGCCH4CxV9qF0U6GU9b2oAkKJ1fUdL0UevA1wwXbTCjFA6-PqMQf8It46LVGXZek0qP51CUKgD631luthyDOYdUDNvQ3AN5-zBQmI6pdx/s320/IMG_4343%5B1%5D.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(I NEVER cook back in the States. Cooking here takes time and effort and creativity. So I'm proud of my food!)</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
THEN after dinner- and watching and discussing the news with Susan and Wilson- I hopped onto my computer to catch up on emails, which vary from 'how are ya?' to auction planning to budgeting and bill pay and answering questions for my amazing volunteers and trying to get in touch with donors. Oh, and a bit of research on converters and adapters, because I want to sew this weekend!<br />
<br />
Basically...a lot. I do a lot every day. Doesn't sound like a lot? You try flagging down a bus on market day in rush hour. :)Ashby and Abramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00100265692802974284noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5759965512480952639.post-44493675987414057262012-07-16T15:32:00.000-07:002012-07-16T15:32:15.177-07:00mattresses and soap and other practical things.Susan and I have been researching the prices of everything we need for
our children's home- from $150 bunk beds to ten-cent cloves of garlic.
we are working on a house budget, a weekly menu, a monthly budget... we
have spreadsheets coming o<span class="text_exposed_show">ut our ears. it's fun for me to hunt down the cheapest pots and pans, the best deal on toilet paper. it's fun (??) for Susan to cross-examine the prices in an excel spreadsheet. to each their own. anyway...<br /> <br />
if you feel so inclined, would you consider donating? you can buy a bed
(or mattress!) for a child who, tonight, is probably sleeping on the
ground. you can buy fruits and vegetables for a child who is likely
malnourished. you can donate in ANY AMOUNT. every bit helps. <br /> <br /> help us out here: <a data-hovercard="/ajax/hovercard/page.php?id=124622230923813" href="http://www.causes.com/causes/105908" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Visible Grace®</a> or click on the PayPal link to the right of this page. seriously- every bit helps. lots more details to come, I assure you, on budgets and on my pipedreams of home-making here in Kenya. : )<br /> <br /> thank you, friends. (oh...and do me a favour and pass this along? you're the best. thanks.)</span>Ashby and Abramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00100265692802974284noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5759965512480952639.post-65143845972699545002012-07-13T14:47:00.001-07:002012-07-13T15:01:27.706-07:00tea and sympathy<div style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuNSn7SVI_B6pOX-Bmrsu8osAQhtui3P-7OWNl-qmS3hy6uo_xgoEJgym1QnHw6LEWgWpcTX5kZrYhAeK-ITT7Ayyk-KOKaaWj_noeTNvI6tuDRW81Am8aTygwiROlZ5rlSeE0nRYKaK5v/s1600/IMG_4233%5B1%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuNSn7SVI_B6pOX-Bmrsu8osAQhtui3P-7OWNl-qmS3hy6uo_xgoEJgym1QnHw6LEWgWpcTX5kZrYhAeK-ITT7Ayyk-KOKaaWj_noeTNvI6tuDRW81Am8aTygwiROlZ5rlSeE0nRYKaK5v/s320/IMG_4233%5B1%5D.JPG" width="239" /></a><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Dim sunlight filters in through the window and spills onto the small table in the center of the room, illuminating cups of hot, sweet tea, a plate of soft, white bread and a basin of cool water. The heels of my shoes are sinking into the mud floor. Rows of stools and small chairs fill the edges of the room. A single bed sits to one side of the room; a sheet hanging from the ceiling separates 'bedroom' from 'sitting room'. A knife leaning against the window sill denotes 'kitchen'. </span><br />
<br />
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<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg106kGnUNmltcgVUT9yf7CkvN4jyJt7NlMxqXrZVJND9-wL8kNkJGVjNHDOlwBY2WLl-9XtjzDT26lp85MFEHaPf1X5FVpAkfy7HgcWGyO7xFy01XYfmK-pU3ERB9KcSyMiN-Y2B9CWM0M/s1600/IMG_4241%5B1%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg106kGnUNmltcgVUT9yf7CkvN4jyJt7NlMxqXrZVJND9-wL8kNkJGVjNHDOlwBY2WLl-9XtjzDT26lp85MFEHaPf1X5FVpAkfy7HgcWGyO7xFy01XYfmK-pU3ERB9KcSyMiN-Y2B9CWM0M/s320/IMG_4241%5B1%5D.JPG" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: small;">We are crowded together in this small home, knees meeting awkwardly as we hunch over our seats and reach for our tea. Mine is hot, too hot to drink anytime soon. I grasp the cup and wait. A small girl wearing a ski cap stands in the doorway watching me solemnly. She reaches for my hand. She takes some bread. She barely moves when a chicken pushes past her to get into the house. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Now from the bed in the corner comes the soft crying that reminds us why we are here. The baby's mother is young. Too young, and she delivered her baby three nights ago, in her home, alone. We want to see the baby, to hold her. We give the mother food, and clothing, and diapers, and prayers and advice: please, please keep her warm. Keep breastfeeding. Go to a clinic. Take her for a check up. Please. Please. Please.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">And now I'm taking pictures to print for them later; pictures of the grandmother, of the mother, of the baby, of the neighbour girl in her cap. Pictures of our tea and our bread. Kim helps: pictures of my thumb, of his chin, of our toes. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">And now we're praying and now we're standing to leave and now we are walking home and all I can do, all we can do, is pray that the mother stays healthy, that she receives the help she needs, that she does the best she can.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"> It's all any of us can do: the best we can. </span></div>
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<br />Ashby and Abramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00100265692802974284noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5759965512480952639.post-74568031536039239682012-07-09T13:00:00.002-07:002012-07-09T13:03:10.734-07:00Visible Grace History: part three (I'm pretending to write a book)<div style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">
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(part two is <a href="http://ashbyinkenya.blogspot.com/2011/10/more-story-part-two-unedited.html">here</a>.) <br />
<br />
I left off with the entrance of a ‘young college student who
thinks she knows everything’. Heh. You see, I was studying <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">child development</i>. I was an <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">expert</i>
on all things kid-related, and I knew what was best for them, because my text
books and teachers told me so. Plus, I’d taken the American Red Cross
Babysitting Class when I was like 13. Thirteen!</div>
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So there I am, spending a semester in Nairobi, Kenya, at the
entitled and enlightened age of 19. I have and do and always will love children
of all ages, specializing in two and three year olds. I never really thought I
would end up focusing all my energy on eradicating or relieving severe poverty.
I’m not an economic or sociological expert. But I remember seeing the cover of
a Christian magazine when I was maybe 10- starving Ethiopians holding their
hands up to the all-knowing western photographer who, I pray, was working to
ease their pain. That cover was the first time I was really aware- I mean
to-the-core awareness- of other people’s pain. And that may well have been the
day I began to shed the protective layer people keep between their hearts and
the world’s.</div>
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Because I don’t have it, that layer. I feel your pain. If
you’re in pain- I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">feel </i>it. This is
called compassion, empathy or awful. Take your pick.</div>
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So: my point is, I distinctly remember the first time I
realized there were people who are suffering in this world. And then I went to
high school with a friend whose parents were missionaries. She’d grown up in
various parts of Africa, and regaled me with stories about Kenya- nothing
spectacular, nothing crazily eccentric- just fond stories of the women, the
colours, the children, the scents and sights that comprise daily life in Kenya.</div>
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And THEN I went to college, full of hope and energy and
wide-eyed wonder and stories from my dad about how his ONE wish in college had
been that he’d been able to study abroad.</div>
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So when my academic advisor returned for the school year
brimming with stories about his time in Kenya…well. Here. We. Go.</div>Ashby and Abramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00100265692802974284noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5759965512480952639.post-88017350838650437972012-04-07T15:47:00.004-07:002012-04-08T18:03:15.462-07:00the plan! (part three)<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNdApEYkkLeXNfY3x86qh8KUtkXU9hdcufCt8wiP93SndXBUge48eHABScmFT1OnNMXtMiUhBcX8j-OzgznANZxF6a3ahqReQ6pY4Hci0JVeryrtqmxPxcHb-xs7nwM72O2KaPFfbPmryB/s1600/suki+wedding.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNdApEYkkLeXNfY3x86qh8KUtkXU9hdcufCt8wiP93SndXBUge48eHABScmFT1OnNMXtMiUhBcX8j-OzgznANZxF6a3ahqReQ6pY4Hci0JVeryrtqmxPxcHb-xs7nwM72O2KaPFfbPmryB/s400/suki+wedding.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5728798165248379458" border="0" /></a><br />first of all, a side note- I am moving out of my apartment at the end of April and staying with friends until I leave, to save money, and OH MY GOSH YOU GUYS, who let me accumulate this much stuff?!<br /><br />anyway- the month of May will be spent visiting my sister and other family members, saying goodbye to friends, and preparing to leave.<br /><br />AND THEN.<br /><br />on June 21st I will leave Oregon and head 'home'. and here's what I plan to do from there (Lord willing):<br /><br />for the first few months, I will live with my Kenyan sister Susan (pictured left on her wedding day), her wonderful husband Wilson, and <span style="font-weight: bold;">my Kenyan niece, Eileen </span>(named after me. more on that incredible honour later). (you can expect to see pictures exclusively of me with her in my arms for the next...10 years or so.) Susan and Wilson live in an apartment in the town of Ngong, about 20 kilometres from our VG land. they are<br />saving to build a house for themselves.<br /><br />my immediate goal and focus is to acquire custody of 6-8 children, who I will take into my care. we will move into the home on our land as soon as the house is ready. <span style="font-style: italic;">we are about $6000 away from finishing the house</span>- trim, tile, countertops etc. did any of my readers happen to win the lottery?<br /><br />choosing the kids will be a process consisting of prayer, advice and recommendations from leaders in the community, the vote of the VG board in Kenya, and the help of our incredible lawyer, Franklin. I am not expecting this to be easy, but God sometimes throws us for a loop by working everything out quickly! whatever happens, I know he is in control and wants what is best for these kids. <span style="font-weight: bold;">his love for these kids greatly outweighs mine</span>, and I know he will set them in homes. amen!Ashby and Abramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00100265692802974284noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5759965512480952639.post-43788791911858830622012-04-01T21:54:00.002-07:002012-04-01T22:02:51.782-07:00part two: when, and how.over the past ten years I've been to Kenya eleven different times for a total of 24 wonderful months on that beautiful red soil.<br /><br />that's a lot of frequent flier miles, in case you were wondering.<br /><br />I've always dreamed of living there- I mean LIVING there, not visiting- but I've been (almost) content just to visit. often. most of my friends know that my long term goal was to finally settle in Kenya, but it's never quite been the right time. there's always something to keep me here in Oregon. there's always so much to do.<br /><br />but it's finally time. we have finally reached the tipping point, the point where my time and resources are better spent in Kenya than here in the US. the point where I can finally sell my car, give up my apartment, and invest in a better, faster, more awesome camera. finally give up on trying to keep my asthma, anxiety and insomnia under control, and just go home.<br /><br />HOME.<br /><br />I will be leaving in mid-June. I can't wait.Ashby and Abramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00100265692802974284noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5759965512480952639.post-53300745263720639902012-03-31T15:32:00.002-07:002012-03-31T15:37:09.622-07:00moving: part one.for years I've felt like I'm living on the wrong side of the mirror. I'll look around this beautiful, beautiful town (seriously- I love Portland!) and everything feels upside-down, or at least backward.<br /><br />my heart beats correctly in Nairobi (literally- but that's a different story). things are NOT easy there. they aren't convenient. don't get me wrong, Nairobi is fairly Westernised and you can get almost everything you want, and certainly everything you need- but it can still be really, really annoying.<br /><br />the buses are always late, and slow, and prices change daily, and the potholes make me crazy. restaurants never have what they say they have, and the last time I went grocery shopping, the store was 'out' of rice. RICE. phone service is terrible, and expensive. internet is slow at best. the rains are late and crops are bad and employment is low and crime rates are high and people are hungry and tired. it's entirely imperfect.<br /><br />but it's HOME.<br /><br />I am moving home at the end of June. and when I say 'moving', I mean finally. moving. home. I've been waiting for this for almost a decade, and it's time.Ashby and Abramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00100265692802974284noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5759965512480952639.post-20221161784822956912012-02-08T20:34:00.000-08:002012-02-20T11:19:17.246-08:00ruin and treasure<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjem0r5bM0rfKECbXz3UpbUsqFTDQ4aDsaxjsHgLj5hvLk994TL7B5P5YJWjMWFYYDf5WiWs5Jt9_XCbEP9CYrVMwQnfyfsiDzgc3D8O68uyCHBgQVKsppjnfQqQwa2uVJntnIVBL3F3zCC/s1600/ash+kenya+2011+435.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 226px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjem0r5bM0rfKECbXz3UpbUsqFTDQ4aDsaxjsHgLj5hvLk994TL7B5P5YJWjMWFYYDf5WiWs5Jt9_XCbEP9CYrVMwQnfyfsiDzgc3D8O68uyCHBgQVKsppjnfQqQwa2uVJntnIVBL3F3zCC/s400/ash+kenya+2011+435.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5706990355774697586" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">where there is ruin, there is hope for a treasure. ~Rumi</span><br /><br />I spend about half my time and energy thinking about how to get children out of the slums and into (as of yet non existent) homes on my land, and the other half of my time and energy worrying about myself: why does my back hurt? why am I so sad? why can't I buy more clothes?<br /><br />there needs to be some balance, probably. and by 'balance', I mean, less of me, more of Him.<br /><br />more Jesus.<br /><br />more of the One who loves these children, knows their names, and has authority over the dust and dirt, the disease and the filth, the poverty and oppression. authority, even, over my whiny, selfish self.<br /><br /><br />I need to take my eyes off myself, because I can't fix myself anyway. I need to throw myself into this project, because as I love and serve others, and spend time with the One who loves them, I will begin to heal; I will begin to be healed.<br /><br />the problem is that I don't know where to start. I feel very stuck. not with the general concept, but with the actual day-to-day tasks: I need money.<br /><br />a lot of it.<br /><br />but there is One who knows, and today I'm choosing to trust in Him.Ashby and Abramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00100265692802974284noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5759965512480952639.post-36585278622866106372011-12-19T11:43:00.001-08:002011-12-19T12:05:05.036-08:00VisiGrace news!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDrVU9qYZtfnAky9XWRMfK-o0DdHJ8GzziTyxCSygnIBLksrdG7HeRscIbvuupHynXwOqC7_-q_KJXiu_vnQk8enJ0hyiHBaMsWlCX8CkVrnYuixh_fHt7UjNQZ44F5cgWMO0i8htu7DD6/s1600/VisiGrace-December-2011_1.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 323px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDrVU9qYZtfnAky9XWRMfK-o0DdHJ8GzziTyxCSygnIBLksrdG7HeRscIbvuupHynXwOqC7_-q_KJXiu_vnQk8enJ0hyiHBaMsWlCX8CkVrnYuixh_fHt7UjNQZ44F5cgWMO0i8htu7DD6/s400/VisiGrace-December-2011_1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5687932939398446610" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3q4xkVrRu0TlISzXRLepsdvNbNlIyMSMYcLSJ0LaEQX9UJAGr_P81_HBLAGW38t4035xs0gSOr_mqmrZOdM-wkZkESmZzixWlPQijNTXz1tHwndAsAEu1wowa2rdO8MjWymJhgTVktMyN/s1600/VisiGrace-December-2011-2.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 284px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3q4xkVrRu0TlISzXRLepsdvNbNlIyMSMYcLSJ0LaEQX9UJAGr_P81_HBLAGW38t4035xs0gSOr_mqmrZOdM-wkZkESmZzixWlPQijNTXz1tHwndAsAEu1wowa2rdO8MjWymJhgTVktMyN/s400/VisiGrace-December-2011-2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5687932934289831506" border="0" /></a>Ashby and Abramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00100265692802974284noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5759965512480952639.post-39254880613327238962011-11-22T17:57:00.000-08:002011-11-22T17:59:39.942-08:00Christmas shoppingif you want to give a love one a gift, but don't want to brave the Black Friday chaos, why not buy them something beautiful and meaningful- that benefits a local non profit and helps support orphaned children in Kenya?<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUTuhATP-D5iuQ03CNmpb8UnUlDQubXCNr-wJnidz7mDimywOj-ntA3mZZTTDq5bfPvamnzncVIsWfLRQdU9NWfcApcdhPO7FybMEAk_bS9EUked7E14BWeq8iBQWdFKs1VNNgSzyOlxoS/s1600/Picture+914.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 224px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUTuhATP-D5iuQ03CNmpb8UnUlDQubXCNr-wJnidz7mDimywOj-ntA3mZZTTDq5bfPvamnzncVIsWfLRQdU9NWfcApcdhPO7FybMEAk_bS9EUked7E14BWeq8iBQWdFKs1VNNgSzyOlxoS/s320/Picture+914.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5678001814453917650" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />we still have a few sling bags left (they are going FAST), and their pictures can be found <a href="http://visiblegrace.org/gallery/album/1991113">here</a><br />and they can be payed for using paypal, here:<br /><br /><form action="https://www.paypal.com/cgi-bin/webscr" method="post"><br /><br /><input name="hosted_button_id" value="BS995S89T7PC8" type="hidden"><br /><table><br /><tbody><tr><td><input name="on0" value="colours" type="hidden">purse colours</td></tr><tr><td><select name="os0"> <option value="blue">blue </option> <option value="orange">orange </option> <option value="yellow">yellow </option> <option value="red">red </option> <option value="green">green </option> <option value="brown">brown </option></select> </td></tr><br /></tbody></table><br /><input src="https://www.paypalobjects.com/en_US/i/btn/btn_buynowCC_LG.gif" name="submit" alt="PayPal - The safer, easier way to pay online!" type="image" border="0"><br /><img alt="" src="https://www.paypalobjects.com/en_US/i/scr/pixel.gif" width="1" border="0" height="1" /><br /></form><br /><br /><br />we also have a few VG t shirts remaining, for men and women.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvNkVc-OWASmQfQTpHZhTPnzMCNfWAL_RYJVVm_pxOE_Tm01Hxq8oXOmf4FuLAHH4n5-wcxzeNS_MwRcq8C8MHfsUNaxYooSxVB03RhgmZo5VJTTLRGQ0BzH-Uc-E5UaAzbkg2ha7Mv2bh/s1600/IMG_1856.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvNkVc-OWASmQfQTpHZhTPnzMCNfWAL_RYJVVm_pxOE_Tm01Hxq8oXOmf4FuLAHH4n5-wcxzeNS_MwRcq8C8MHfsUNaxYooSxVB03RhgmZo5VJTTLRGQ0BzH-Uc-E5UaAzbkg2ha7Mv2bh/s320/IMG_1856.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5678002833003805186" border="0" /></a><br />new Africa shirts can be bought <a href="http://ashbyinkenya.blogspot.com/2011/06/new-t-shirts.html">here</a><br /><br /><img src="file:///C:/Users/Terry/AppData/Local/Temp/moz-screenshot.png" alt="" /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxcByCb9WcZ_UgLvHWqgfXAqZbgfJS_FM8nvL_vFRQ0Rgnqq3AJr8lZTEChVFTHFmGCS2Tnl74lDJpBoEoId9mMZfulMdJb5fSq2HjWDeBWsUc4rx8hEexC6bO00vCaVuZTl99yx1WeF6T/s1600/old+VG+shirt+acacia.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxcByCb9WcZ_UgLvHWqgfXAqZbgfJS_FM8nvL_vFRQ0Rgnqq3AJr8lZTEChVFTHFmGCS2Tnl74lDJpBoEoId9mMZfulMdJb5fSq2HjWDeBWsUc4rx8hEexC6bO00vCaVuZTl99yx1WeF6T/s320/old+VG+shirt+acacia.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5678004800243685154" border="0" /></a><br />and our original, acacia tree shirts <a href="http://ashbyinkenya.blogspot.com/2011/06/sale-original-vg-t-shirts.html">here </a>(they are on sale!)<br /><br />please consider supporting Visible Grace this year as you buy your gifts!<br /><br />thank you,<br />Ashby RauchAshby and Abramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00100265692802974284noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5759965512480952639.post-53215832070932483092011-10-11T23:31:00.000-07:002011-10-11T23:38:48.352-07:00more story: part two: unedited(first part of the story <a href="http://ashbyinkenya.blogspot.com/2011/09/start.html">here</a>.)<br /><br />said ten acres were acquired with a lot of tears, time and donations from generous people like you.<br /><br />and several thousand cups of tea with various land owners and their lawyers. (ooh, book idea: drinking cups of tea in a foreign country while trying to build a school. it could work.)<br /><br />Nairobi is unreal. combine the poorest of the poor (50% of the nation makes $2 a day or less) with the up-and-coming. combine, also, the grandmothers who don't speak English, who know how to knit and sew and farm and cut their own firewood, with the youth, the generation who speaks ONLY English, and poorly, who own cars and work downtown and move out before they get married.<br /><br />combine, even, the fashion and trends from Europe with the colourful fabrics that one pictures when they think of Africa: wrapped around your waist, your shoulders, your head.<br /><br />combine all of this with parasites and HIV and water you can't drink until it's boiled.<br /><br />enter one naive college student who thinks she knows everything.Ashby and Abramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00100265692802974284noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5759965512480952639.post-30753026263471389492011-09-26T15:23:00.000-07:002011-09-26T16:32:37.423-07:00FUNdraisinghey shoppers!<br /><br />I have pretty, pretty things for sale:<br /><br />we are actually building now (!!!!!!!) and so it's<br /><br />a) much more motivating to beg people for money, knowing that every dollar gets us closer to finishing our building, and<br /><br />b) much more important that we get money, SOON. those walls aren't gonna build themselves, guys.<br /><br />so...introducing our new, pretty purses, direct from Kenya:<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCwMaOlQbI5Ye0AOkaobl7Nwhrh-w3x8LQLgghHs-0BK5DB3aFcDnAh2uyzl30DyLOYJfSnTunWF1T8eWw4_6sc6R2biog81O-TT2MWL5Vk85cjWSPdcFL-HBkT5_MO14LeO_qtzhVqUiA/s1600/Picture+922.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCwMaOlQbI5Ye0AOkaobl7Nwhrh-w3x8LQLgghHs-0BK5DB3aFcDnAh2uyzl30DyLOYJfSnTunWF1T8eWw4_6sc6R2biog81O-TT2MWL5Vk85cjWSPdcFL-HBkT5_MO14LeO_qtzhVqUiA/s320/Picture+922.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5656815171408125586" border="0" /></a><br /><br />and our beautiful African jewelry:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix6OD-BaSsnhD5GaMz5uSkMTmkbNCHjq1ekXQouI8JVJVsW9vbxShWm0cr_VcCj2uyGyunyMhVsiThD0f-QPqEVwoTYCxzqoR_ba1E8sYTh4chjU-A4Xfj7uIT5dxxKVdYOfstpfqbphq3/s1600/white+beaded+necklace.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix6OD-BaSsnhD5GaMz5uSkMTmkbNCHjq1ekXQouI8JVJVsW9vbxShWm0cr_VcCj2uyGyunyMhVsiThD0f-QPqEVwoTYCxzqoR_ba1E8sYTh4chjU-A4Xfj7uIT5dxxKVdYOfstpfqbphq3/s320/white+beaded+necklace.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5656799802278286082" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br />and more details on purchasing them soon. (necklaces are $15, earrings $10, purses $25.)<br /><br />we have a few of our new shirts left: buy them <a href="http://ashbyinkenya.blogspot.com/2011/06/new-t-shirts.html">here</a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUBbtOjr-BSaWZ6q0CvVg-gVsaKwZos8ywefW3Om7EEYkEW8Qe1V17y273vP9VKx41xwgdBbcAYsKtYl0QHltGhjjR807NmOwCvYPBy1hKYQc5Ikyit2vgul7yE_RIjDbhDUSalGJx96Gp/s1600/t+shirt+adria.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUBbtOjr-BSaWZ6q0CvVg-gVsaKwZos8ywefW3Om7EEYkEW8Qe1V17y273vP9VKx41xwgdBbcAYsKtYl0QHltGhjjR807NmOwCvYPBy1hKYQc5Ikyit2vgul7yE_RIjDbhDUSalGJx96Gp/s320/t+shirt+adria.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5656814684813430658" border="0" /></a><br /><br />and even fewer of our old design, which are on SALE! (<a href="http://ashbyinkenya.blogspot.com/2011/06/sale-original-vg-t-shirts.html">here</a>)<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUhLYnfHI66f4OKJhkxCUbhyaF5GfxscMTfk7JfFwEDkFVvfkPLV5PHNTETH2QIMfhKlPJ3gn3vGNvnuuMIEk1igRfpBwuBH8xjmELSQ25Fh4u_pIIRwa9INpMzzQIIbtwodZioCUbTigi/s1600/nalia.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUhLYnfHI66f4OKJhkxCUbhyaF5GfxscMTfk7JfFwEDkFVvfkPLV5PHNTETH2QIMfhKlPJ3gn3vGNvnuuMIEk1igRfpBwuBH8xjmELSQ25Fh4u_pIIRwa9INpMzzQIIbtwodZioCUbTigi/s320/nalia.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5656814477535847170" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />in conclusion, has spending money every been this fun?Ashby and Abramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00100265692802974284noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5759965512480952639.post-49781503420181512612011-09-19T22:40:00.000-07:002011-09-19T22:49:47.634-07:00a start.I started writing a story.<br /><br />Carve a thin strip out of the jungle and throw down some tarmac. Add traffic: trucks, people, cars, animals. Cows, goats, donkeys. Monkeys who refuse to use the crosswalks and do not look both ways before crossing.<br /><br />Toss four million people into houses on either side of the road. This is Nairobi.<br /><br />There are four things I love unequivocally in this city. One is the giraffe center, where you can feed giraffe and stand right up next to their heads. They are peaceful, and beautiful.<br />Two: an American coffee house, complete with flushing toilets, drinkable water, wireless internet and polite wait staff. You can read there for hours undisturbed.<br />The third thing is the Ngong market when it is not market day. It is quiet and you can buy almost anything. Avocados the size of softballs. Papaya and mango. Flip flops and kitchen utensils. Fabric, used sweaters, pashminas and sugar cane. Eleven different kinds of beans.<br /><br />Number four is the ten acres of land south of Kiserian registered under the name of Visible Grace.Ashby and Abramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00100265692802974284noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5759965512480952639.post-10199935790850588042011-09-14T15:38:00.000-07:002011-09-14T16:08:30.784-07:00fewer and even further between.<div>I always promise myself that when I get back to Oregon, I'll blog more and catch up on stories here on my travel blog. and I remind myself that the stories and images from Kenya aren't going anywhere, that it's just as vivid in my head when I'm here as when I'm there, and that I'll be able to get it all written down, if I just sit down and do it.<div><br /></div><div>then I get settled here in Portland, and I dream about Kenya and giraffes and Susan and Kims and babies and dirt and matatus, and I wake up and I fully intend to blog, and then my brain is all, 'wow, traffic was really bad today; Terry Gross has such good questions; I can't find my checkbook; New Seasons closes in 15 minutes' and it's just. so. hard. to bring Kenya back here to the world wide web.</div><div><br /></div><div>which is weird because, as I said, it's all so clear to me and I have no problem thinking about Kenya, all the time all the time all the time. but I never seem to get around to articulating my thoughts and feelings into normal people words.</div><div><br /></div><div>and maybe no one cares, and I know it's more exciting to read an update LIVE ON LOCATION IN KENYA then it is, you know, semi-live from my living room!, but I still feel obligated to keep momentum going here, and I think my writing improves with practice. at least, I hope it does.</div><div><br /></div><div>so here's a semi-monthly update to say: I'm tryin, world.</div><div><br /></div><div>and on that note- we freaking BROKE GROUND! and that's really all I ever want to talk about, ever.</div><div><br /></div><div>what do YOU want to talk about?</div></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHAapG7xkod6LnmquIolcLLrd-rHNL4ioUd1iBTZ01w3Lc3Z7pM_j5du64BcKcX3eK7n7gwkIeLGetmTL0jyXkY47fq-J5J_yhEsQhCO-mPLHR98AnSsHemsnIt5_yZK1CFIkZsfm-4Wn5/s1600/271941_10150318908725917_507400916_9458223_2106483_o.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHAapG7xkod6LnmquIolcLLrd-rHNL4ioUd1iBTZ01w3Lc3Z7pM_j5du64BcKcX3eK7n7gwkIeLGetmTL0jyXkY47fq-J5J_yhEsQhCO-mPLHR98AnSsHemsnIt5_yZK1CFIkZsfm-4Wn5/s320/271941_10150318908725917_507400916_9458223_2106483_o.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652355763080523394" /></a><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHAapG7xkod6LnmquIolcLLrd-rHNL4ioUd1iBTZ01w3Lc3Z7pM_j5du64BcKcX3eK7n7gwkIeLGetmTL0jyXkY47fq-J5J_yhEsQhCO-mPLHR98AnSsHemsnIt5_yZK1CFIkZsfm-4Wn5/s1600/271941_10150318908725917_507400916_9458223_2106483_o.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a><br /><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 10.0px Helvetica"><br /></p><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Helvetica;font-size:85%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:10px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Georgia, serif;font-size:130%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:16px;"><br /></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Helvetica;font-size:85%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:10px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Georgia, serif;font-size:130%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:16px;"><br /></span></span></span></span></div></div>Ashby and Abramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00100265692802974284noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5759965512480952639.post-37000538077533132382011-09-07T21:59:00.000-07:002011-09-08T01:48:25.240-07:00piecesI don't know how to describe my favourite things about Kenya, but I'll try. it's glimpses. it's the everyday things. the snapshots of a life lived in Africa.<br /><br />it's the feeling of satisfaction when you wash your own laundry by hand, and it's finally hanging on the line to dry. it's when you've been there long enough to sleep through the donkey and rooster wake up calls; when you finally look right when crossing the street, instead of left. it's when you step inside the Ngong market to buy bananas and tomatoes and cilantro and it's perfectly, inexplicably quiet. it's when you are washing dishes, leaning over the sink, soap up to your elbows, listening to your neighbours' chatter and inhaling the smells of chai, charcoal and sunset. it's when you are stuck in traffic on the road from Rongai to Bomas, and you see baboons sticking their rears up at you as they retreat into the bush.<br /><br />it's the sunset over the hills.<br /><br />it's the subtle grasp of the culture and the language. the feel of the air early in the morning. the familiar beep of a matatu on the road. the particular way that children say 'how are you?' and the way they shake hands, with their left hand grasping their right forearm.<br /><br />it's when a visitor knocks and you welcome them in, give them slippers and put water on for tea. it's when you and your sister finish each other's sentences. it's Friday nights with a bowl of popcorn, a litre of Coke and season two of Lost.<br /><br />it's the little things, and the big ones.Ashby and Abramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00100265692802974284noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5759965512480952639.post-52604701027217481602011-08-25T16:27:00.000-07:002011-08-25T16:43:19.358-07:00VG shirts are love.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzHqTYXaHueHo8JX4ONoNE52E5PgPqmw09MqxnRsC9bvN2Cvw0eOVI89FF7LB4DZHSLBOsrO5xTK5RSKDLDRLMFPLOIbcdozi8ZTIQaRfhP9Hd12Z2ZcMheiEshSFhdR9WDN_uWbw-lbdU/s1600/ash+kenya+2011+348.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzHqTYXaHueHo8JX4ONoNE52E5PgPqmw09MqxnRsC9bvN2Cvw0eOVI89FF7LB4DZHSLBOsrO5xTK5RSKDLDRLMFPLOIbcdozi8ZTIQaRfhP9Hd12Z2ZcMheiEshSFhdR9WDN_uWbw-lbdU/s400/ash+kenya+2011+348.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644942930579448066" border="0" /></a>
<br />This is my nephew, Kim. He joined us when we visited the slums, and he helped give candy to the kids there. Here he his modeling his Visible Grace shirt in front of a modern art exhibit.
<br />
<br />You can order your VG shirt <a href="http://ashbyinkenya.blogspot.com/2011/06/new-t-shirts.html">here</a>. They are made by American Apparel, designed by Ashby Rauch and Tim Coe, and they are helping to fund the building of a home for orphaned children.
<br />
<br />Buy one.
<br />Ashby and Abramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00100265692802974284noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5759965512480952639.post-49208852184345831652011-08-19T16:41:00.001-07:002011-08-19T17:00:26.613-07:00On Community: part one.<p style="margin-bottom: 0in">What was it like to bring friends from Oregon 'home' to Kenya?</p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in">
<br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in">Wonderful. Difficult. Exciting. Exhausting. Scary. Relieving. Trying. Challenging. Ridiculously fun.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in">
<br /></p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in">I laughed a lot harder, and a lot more often, then I have in ages. I learned a lot: about myself, about others, about my shortcomings and my strengths, and about making chocolate chip cookies under pressure. I learned that most people have a better sense of direction than I do, and I learned that Keith cannot multi-task. I learned that there is no puppy guarding in hide and seek.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in">
<br /></p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in">Several friends have come to visit me in Kenya before, but this was our first official 'team', and it was the first time I had the privilege of traveling to Kenya <b>with</b> people. I have come to accept the fact that I may never be able to articulate how wonderful it is to not have to drag my every everything into the bathroom in the airport. I confirmed how nice it is to have friends to talk to on the plane, and friends to sleep on. And we discovered that I get really, really shrill when we are landing in Nairobi.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in">
<br /></p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in">I mentioned before that the six of us stayed in two apartments, four Americans in one, and two of us sharing Susan and Wilson's apartment. Because their kitchen is fully furnished, we prepared and ate our meals in Susan and Wilson's house. As you can imagine (and here the introverts shudder and the extroverts beam in approval) it was pretty crowded. Pretty real. Pretty communal, if you will. I personally loved it, as I always love an opportunity to pretend I am living with friends. Everyone did really, really well. Considering that eight of us were sharing one computer, one kitchen, two bathrooms and four bedrooms, it's pretty miraculous that we are all still friends- oh, but this is an exceptional group of incredibly gracious people. So there you go.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in">
<br /></p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in">There were mornings when I felt like my life was perfect: Keith washing dishes. Linds making beds. Susan singing in the shower. Pete making eggs, or coffee. Ang on the computer. Muso poking her little head into the living room to ask if Auntie Lindsay had learned Kikuyu yet. Wilson ironing his, my or Susan's clothes. I'm not SO great at mentally preparing for a whole day, remembering everything I need to take with me, <i>and</i> getting dressed, especially when I'm exhausted and distracted, and there were days when I barely made it out the door- but there were, as I said, moments when I felt that everything was exactly, wonderfully perfect.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in">
<br /></p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in">Because I love people. I love being around people. I love feeling loved. And I have wanted, for some time now, to live with friends in Kenya.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in">
<br /></p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in">I spent some time with some good friends in Haiti last year. We stayed in a children's home, and there was a community room we spent a lot of time in. This provided me with glimpses of my 'dream life': someone on this couch, reading, and someone else on that couch, talking. I would be sewing or knitting or playing with my camera, and some of us would be washing dishes, and others would be learning Creole. Living life, together: that's what I want, so much.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in">
<br /></p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in">So this, again, felt like a glimpse, like a fleeting moment that I wanted to capture and bring back with me. Those were the perfect mornings.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in">
<br /></p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in">And then there were mornings where everything was awful, and disastrous, and I felt like I wasn't going to make it. Oh yeah, did I mention I can be difficult to live with? And that people like their space? And that they had jet lag and culture shock, and I wanted things to go my way, most (okay all) of the time, and that when I get stressed and overwhelmed, I don't communicate well?</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in">
<br /></p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in">I didn't mention that? Weird.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in">
<br /></p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in">But again: people. Gracious, loving, grown up people, people who care for one another and who choose, morning after merciful morning, to follow Jesus.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in">
<br /></p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in">So I mean, things weren't perfect, or magical, but after all, I did make chocolate chip cookies, so it probably could have been worse. </p> Ashby and Abramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00100265692802974284noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5759965512480952639.post-484839273494626922011-08-14T01:32:00.001-07:002011-08-14T02:00:43.106-07:00mathare<span style="font-size:100%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim-KKSiT76pvSqplY2cYGTtSf5RGCiAiO2byaahD-3ZfWsxQ1aEiw3DIsmMZhdK79UYJPF3Jrx0ZpbwNi7FItALIGZcEMC_B588S4HFnLzPkP1Q19JtUSmW2NvMJSAOqSriETGE2-9KIme/s1600/ash+kenya+2011+498.jpg">
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mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin-top:0in; mso-para-margin-right:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:10.0pt; mso-para-margin-left:0in; line-height:115%; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;} </style> <![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:shapedefaults ext="edit" spidmax="1026"> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:shapelayout ext="edit"> <o:idmap ext="edit" data="1"> </o:shapelayout></xml><![endif]--> </a></span><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >Okay: on the Saturday before we left, we scheduled a trip to visit the slums in Ngong.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >Some background:
<br />Ngong town is a suburb of Nairobi. It is the nearest town (bus stop, grocery store, internet café) to Susan and Wilson’s apartment. It is where I buy bananas, and phone credit. And it has a large slum curving around behind it, hiding God knows how many people, people we walk past every day, people buying and selling food, buying and selling produce. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >Dictionary.com defines a slum as follows: <i>slum: (often pluralized):<span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"> slums: a</span> <span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);">thickly</span> <span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);">populated,</span> run-down, squalid part of a city, inhabited by poor <span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);">people.</span></i>
<br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);">So. There’s that. </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >Visible Grace is making an effort to establish a relationship with the people in the slums for several reasons. I want them to know what Visible Grace is about. We will most likely be adopting some of these children: the kids who have lost their parents and are taken in for by their neighbour, kids who don’t stand a chance, who will end up back here in the slums, begging. Subsiding.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >I also think it’s an important reminder for myself and other Americans: this is how people live. It’s easy to forget, in Nairobi. There’s affluence here. There’s <i>ice cream</i>. The roads are paved, and the internet is fairly reliable. It’s so easy to ignore the hurt and the poverty. But it’s right there, and once you see it you really can’t forget it.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" > Another reason we go to the slums, to be perfectly honest, is because I am so anxious to be doing something. It’s real hard, when I’m staring at spreadsheets all day, to feel and believe that I am making a difference in kids’ lives. I struggle with this a lot.</span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" > <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">So walking through the slums for a day, distributing groceries and clothing, visiting people and praying for them, helps me feel a little closer to it all.</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" > </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >The point is, on Saturday the 23<sup>rd</sup> of July, Susan and I left the house early to meet people in Ngong. The team stayed behind to have breakfast and get ready like normal people (I hate mornings).
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >Susan and I spent a couple hours running errands in Ngong. Highlights include drinking tea, calling our driver, calling Christine, going to the bank, buying groceries and staples for ten households in the slums (and candy for the kids) and having the food total be the exact same amount we had budgeted. I mean exact: I had 8,000 shillings, and after I impulsively bought candy, and added salt to our grocery list, our total came to 8,000 shillings. EXACTLY.After meeting the team, and shoving candy in everyone's pockets, we spent a few minutes waiting for the chairperson (the slums have an elected leader, someone who communicates among the people, and brings their needs to the local government) in a church compound. We of course collected a small fanclub- kids who most likely smelled candy on us- and our friend Christine quickly organised them into rows and began leading them in praise songs.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >As one does. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >After the chairman arrived and we had distributed the kids’ clothing (which our team had brought from home) and the groceries amongst ourselves, we started walking. I’ll be your eyes, don’t worry. Look there, the ground is very uneven, and if you slip, you’ll be covered in dust and there’s trash everywhere and that bush- it has thorns. Here is a puddle that cannot be sanitary- be careful, now. Look to your left, there’s a small boy peering at us through the barbed wire. His dad is methodically sweeping the front step, see? Take a photo, yes, be careful as we walk down this alley- there’s a ditch running right down the middle. Here is the community toilet, it’s covered in burlap and those nails have rusted. Be careful. Be careful. Be careful. See these kids following us? That baby is carrying a baby. (Yes, Kim, give them candy.) </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >Here’s a house- duck low through the gate and we can all squeeze into their entryway- two of us will go inside, the man is bedridden. You’ll have to squint; it’s so dark and the window is covered. He’s there, in the bed, behind that curtain- this half of the house is their living room. He’s in bed; he is sick; the neighbor brings him food every day. We’ll leave her with shoes for her son. This small stove is his kitchen. These are his only belongings. This pile, here. That’s his laundry. It’s time to leave, shake his hand- now we’ll go outside and squeeze down the next alleyway, the next aisle, the next dusty path- to the next family. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >The afternoon passed quickly in this manner. Ten homes, ten bags of groceries, ten prayers, ten stories. We visited a friend (Mama Saidiki) last, and gave her the rest of the clothing we had brought. We talked with her for a while and took myriad photos. Saidiki is a former classmate of Susan’s, who now spends his days begging in Ngong. On this particular day he had gone to visit his grandmother, who unbelievably lives in a neighbouring slums. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >Oh, this cycle. It never ends. What kind of world do we live in, that three generations end up living in squalor and destitution? And when, for crying out loud, is Jesus coming back to rescue us? </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >I am grateful, so grateful- for a bed to sleep in, and a community who loves me- for resources enough to buy food for myself, and for others. For friends who donate their children’s clothing so that we can bless these precious few families. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >But it’s never enough. It’s never enough.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
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<br />Ashby and Abramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00100265692802974284noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5759965512480952639.post-34552664186050250782011-08-11T14:15:00.000-07:002011-08-11T14:49:27.999-07:00news. letter.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcl6HwPp8Np1gBTOSchOvnyS9r8yVvUMCNncV3ZR_CMq1jj_BnnHmbpUR7iLTO68GSIhNHEahNgVCTjkkl827F9ep9YpRssAGn_WeSrplVG9_SK8Iw_gJ8ojJud_49H82NP-XzyWrVU6oh/s1600/IMG_8626.jpg">
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<br />You'll probably receive a copy in the mail, in your inbox, and on facebook, but just in case, the latest copy of our newsletter (mercifully edited and designed by the lovely Simone Finney) can be found <a href="http://visiblegrace.org/media/AA/AF/visiblegrace-biz/downloads/162423/VisiGrace_August_2011.pdf">here</a>- complete with copious pics of our team and a link back to this very blog. Full circle, etc.
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<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcl6HwPp8Np1gBTOSchOvnyS9r8yVvUMCNncV3ZR_CMq1jj_BnnHmbpUR7iLTO68GSIhNHEahNgVCTjkkl827F9ep9YpRssAGn_WeSrplVG9_SK8Iw_gJ8ojJud_49H82NP-XzyWrVU6oh/s1600/IMG_8626.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcl6HwPp8Np1gBTOSchOvnyS9r8yVvUMCNncV3ZR_CMq1jj_BnnHmbpUR7iLTO68GSIhNHEahNgVCTjkkl827F9ep9YpRssAGn_WeSrplVG9_SK8Iw_gJ8ojJud_49H82NP-XzyWrVU6oh/s400/IMG_8626.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5639715702283073618" border="0" /></a>
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<br />Ashby and Abramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00100265692802974284noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5759965512480952639.post-7592952603634646342011-08-10T18:31:00.000-07:002011-08-11T13:50:13.427-07:00mtoto and mtoto<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJQej-D59xVK-rsQIE3yIRZPrVBXexUhyphenhyphengSyJhrZ5eE2tc0rBkU7U0Oyty4u2op8DAjUys2H3P8R5adQor7sDqOcQKyr7fL5BYOpruovGND8IXHfKPjMzANU1y0G5G4CXbvxOEp7837us5/s1600/ash+twiga.jpg">
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mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;} </style> <![endif]-->Of the many things I love, giraffes and babies are pretty high on my list. This is fairly well known among anyone who’s known me for longer than six seconds- especially the part about babies. I have a ‘baby voice’ that I have absolutely no control over: I get really excited and high-pitched when I see a puppy, or any child under the age of seven, or even a pregnant woman. I also have a ‘mom voice’ which I can only bring out when the occasion demands: when they ask for the tenth time if they can have dessert, even though they know they can’t. When one sibling is hitting the other, and I’m driving the car. When a child turns off their listening ears and runs in front of a car.
<br />
<br /><p class="MsoNormal">Or, apparently, when a four day old giraffe decides to walk toward its mother. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">Anyway: Friday, July 15. In order to fit in as many things as possible, and in order to kick jet lag out of the way, I packed our first few days in Kenya pretty full. Friday’s agenda was as follows: children’s home, lunch, giraffe center. Keeping in mind that we are taking public transportation, this is dangerously close to a full day. Miraculously, everything went as planned. Which is harder than it sounds- it’s not like we’re a bunch of fools, and can’t get anything done. It’s not like I didn’t give us any credit.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">It’s just that NOTHING EVER GOES AS PLANNED IN KENYA. EVER.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">So when I say ‘everything went as planned’, I mean that the busses were actually running, and on time no less. The children’s home let us in even though we were a larger-than-normal group. Lunch was actually available and served in a timely manner. The giraffe center was open. Etc. Let us celebrate the small victories, here. It was a pretty good day. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">New Life Children’s Home was founded in the early 90s by a British couple living in Kenya. They take in abandoned babies, care for and nurture them, and adopt them out to loving homes. Their oldest children are preschool aged.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">We arrive around eleven in the morning; this involves two bumpy bus rides, a ten minute walk, and a brief stint to buy a banana and take several pictures of a cement wall. We check in at the gate, wait patiently in the lobby, and go through a brief introduction to and tour of the home. We are taken to the back to put on aprons. They are out of aprons.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">We go upstairs so they can show us the toddlers. One baby literally lunges toward me, and since I haven’t washed my hands yet, I can’t pick him up. I try to explain this to him and he throws himself at my feet. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">It is torture. I somehow survive. <span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">We decide to forage ahead, apronless. We wash our hands hospital-style. We are reminded that picture taking is okay, but posting said pictures on Facebook is not. We are free to choose a room, choose a baby, choose an activity.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">I meander upstairs and back into the toddlers room. There are about a dozen children here, and a few Kenyan workers who will tell us the babies’ names if asked. Untold are their histories, their sob stories, their HIV status. We don’t need this; it’s just the morbidity in me that wants to know the nitty and the gritty. I’m just being honest here- judge me if you must. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">Speaking of honesty, this is as good a time as any to admit that this children’s home was mostly worked into our schedule for Lindsay’s benefit. Lindsay loves her some babies, and in her fundraising efforts for this trip would ask her sponsors for money ‘so she could go to Kenya and hold babies’. Of course, the rest of us enjoyed the visit as well, and I always think it is beneficial for Americans to both see the need in Kenya, and the people who are working toward a solution. But between you and me, this particular day was mostly for Lindsay’s benefit. And after watching her sit in silence and bliss with a baby in her arms, I can confidently tell you it was worth it. In the<span style=""> </span>meantime, my newfound friend (whose name I can’t remember) and I played a rousing game of ‘take Pete’s hat off Ashby’s head and put it on Pete’s and then put it on his own and then back on Ashby’s’. He won every round. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">Eventually I became aware that while babies always, always need love and affection, the reality is that there is a lot of behind-the-scenes work that needs to be done to run a children’s home, so I asked an employee if there was anything we could do to help them. She mentioned that after the kids went down for a nap, they’d be folding laundry and mopping floors, and that in the meantime, there were dishes to be washed if anyone was interested? </p> <p class="MsoNormal">We were. Pete and I found the kitchen (leaving Keith to the mercy of several children who only reached his knees) and began washing cups, cups, sippy cups and more cups. This is notable because for one, do you see how selfless I was being here? not playing with babies when I could have been? does anyone feel my pain? And two, it is a rare man who will wash dishes in Kenya, and I think the workers at New Life were duly impressed. As Pete washed and I rinsed, I chatted with the woman whose station we had taken over. I was pleasantly surprised to find that she was a volunteer. It seems uncommon to me to find a Kenyan who is willing to work for free, and I’m not sure how they manage to survive in Nairobi without an income. But with a 50% unemployment rate, clearly a lot of them are managing somehow. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">After a couple hours of baby play, dish washing, and a crash course in Diaper Folding 101, we say goodbye, collect our things and depart. Our next stop: lunch. Fairly uneventful, but Kimberly would like me to mention that her ice cream was disappointing.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">I will spare you the details of the bus ride for the sake of brevity (key words: bumpy, crowded, confusing). The point is that we got to the Giraffe Center, and the REAL point is that we got to see, pet, feed and photograph giraffes to our hearts’ content. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">The Giraffe Center lies on the outer edge of the Nairobi National Park. They have several acres reserved specifically to protect the Rothschild Giraffe- a breed which is endangered, and which slightly differentiates from its cousin, the reticulated giraffe. (The Rothschild’s spots are different.) For slightly less than $10, you can climb up a balcony until you are head level with a giraffe. You can feed it. You can pet it. You can take your picture with it. If you hold the food in your mouth, the giraffe will take it from your lips. But if you aren’t holding food, watch for head-butts. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">I know I say this a lot, but this time I really mean it: this is one of my favourite places on earth. I don’t get tired of them. I don’t do a lot of touristy things while I’m in Nairobi. But there is something incredibly life giving and therapeutic about seeing a giraffe at such a short distance.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">The center keeps one male, for breeding, and several females. Male babies are sent away when they are three.<span style=""> </span>With us today were several hungry, impatient female giraffes, one bull, a few warthogs, and one tiny, tiny baby giraffe.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Like, four days old. Like, as tall as our friend Keith. (Who wants to give birth to something six feet tall? Raise your hand.) </p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">After everyone had taken a turn feeding the giraffes, taking myriad pictures, walking around the grounds (there are a couple tortoises and a souvenir shop. Also for our viewing pleasure, a local kindergarten was making a field trip that day) we began to drift to various areas: Susan and Lindsay sat down at the café. Pete took a few too many pictures of turtles. Keith mooned over the love of his life, Daisy. And Angie, Kimberly and I hung out on the balcony. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">With our arms dangling over the side, our heads angled absently toward a distant giraffe, and a cool breeze in our face, we reflect on the day. Our talk turns to animals, among them, the ‘big five’: the five quintessential game animals that everyone <span style="font-weight: bold;">must </span>see when on safari. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">‘Giraffe...’ I think, ‘…and lions, for sure.’</p> <p class="MsoNormal">‘Rhinos’, Angie adds. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">Kimberly counts on her fingers: ‘Rhinos, lions, cheet-‘ I clutch her arm with the urgency of someone choking on a hot dog and shriek: ‘THE BABY IS MOVING!!!!!!!!’</p> <p class="MsoNormal">You honestly would have thought <span style="font-style: italic;">my </span>baby was moving; that I was 9.2 months pregnant and my water had broken, or that my newborn infant was about to fall into a pit of crocodiles. (NO. I’m NOT PREGNANT. Quit starting rumours.)</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Angie, Kimberly and any other human with a camera frantically turned toward the infant giraffe and photographically documenting its every move. I’d started a digital riot. I didn’t even have my camera with me (the battery was dead, or something). I had already seen baby giraffes before. I hadn’t meant to cause such an uproar. I hadn’t <span style="font-style: italic;">meant </span>to violently scream out about this groundbreaking news. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">But in my defence, the baby was really, really cute. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">(For the record, the big five are the rhino, lion, leopard, elephant and buffalo.)
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<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJQej-D59xVK-rsQIE3yIRZPrVBXexUhyphenhyphengSyJhrZ5eE2tc0rBkU7U0Oyty4u2op8DAjUys2H3P8R5adQor7sDqOcQKyr7fL5BYOpruovGND8IXHfKPjMzANU1y0G5G4CXbvxOEp7837us5/s1600/ash+twiga.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJQej-D59xVK-rsQIE3yIRZPrVBXexUhyphenhyphengSyJhrZ5eE2tc0rBkU7U0Oyty4u2op8DAjUys2H3P8R5adQor7sDqOcQKyr7fL5BYOpruovGND8IXHfKPjMzANU1y0G5G4CXbvxOEp7837us5/s320/ash+twiga.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5639405623120121874" border="0" /></a></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center">
<br /></p> Ashby and Abramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00100265692802974284noreply@blogger.com1