During the visit, I was fortunate to attend an informal Samburu informal Samburu Sisters meeting our staff had so graciously organized, where women gathered to talk openly about the challenges they face and the ways they support one another. Listening to the women speak, I was struck by how vividly they remembered life before the well — and how much had changed.
Read MoreMy recent visit to Samburu was my first time traveling to this part of northern Kenya. Nearly twenty years ago, I lived and worked in rural western Kenya, so returning to the country brought back many memories. Samburu, however, was new to me — and yet in many ways it also felt familiar. For more than two decades I have worked in global health, often focusing on how communities strengthen health and wellbeing from the ground up.
Read MoreAs I stood staring at the Golden Gate Bridge, its towers wrapped in mist, a glistening rose in my eye. No, it wasn’t a tear—for Morans, warriors, do not cry. That lesson had been instilled in me since childhood. But in that moment, memories swept over me so vividly I feared I might wake up to the bleating of goats and the rhythmic clatter of cow hooves being driven out to pasture.
Read MoreThe sound of snow beneath my boots startled me. I had expected it to crack like breaking glass, but instead it whispered—a soft crunch, almost like the sand of Samburu shifting underfoot. In that sound, I could feel myself being pulled across time and space. My eyes, fixed on the white horizon of my first winter in America, glazed back to the red plains of Samburu. The snow pulled me home.
Read MoreAs I stood staring at the Golden Gate Bridge, its towers wrapped in mist, a glistening rose in my eye. No, it wasn’t a tear—for Morans, warriors, do not cry. That lesson had been instilled in me since childhood. But in that moment, memories swept over me so vividly I feared I might wake up to the bleating of goats and the rhythmic clatter of cow hooves being driven out to pasture.
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Motioning over to the lush foothills glimmering in the distance, Kokomiano explained that, while a beautiful backdrop for many, these mountains only served as painful memories of the long journeys to find water under the heat of the sun. It wasn’t until he was fifty years old, when TSP drilled the Lengoloo well in his community, that he claims his life changed forever.
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Imagine functioning off of one cup of water every day. Whether you’re studying, working, or lounging around the house, the ability to concentrate, be active, and even rest peacefully evaporates just like water in the hot Kenyan sun. For the girls at Nkaroni Girl’s School, this nightmarish scenario is their everyday reality. These inspiring young girls toil through the school year with such minimal water and a slew of other difficulties unimaginable to most in 2022.
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The chorus of cheers released by the girls was loud enough to make the donkeys at the other end of the field look up. The excited yelling reverberated from Tipito Girls’ School off of Tipito Mountain, the stunning backdrop, and right back to the new school building. Pauline, the school’s principal, wiped her teary eyes as two girls stepped forward to hand Linda scissors to cut the beautiful ribbon they had hung on the door. The ribbon broke, the door swung open, and the cheering escalated as 12 brand new showers were revealed.
Read MoreThe countdown is on. In 8 hours from the time I write this, I will be boarding a plane from Nairobi to Doha, Qatar, and then from Doha to Boston. I still feel a state of shock as I write these words. I am actually sitting currently at a Java House (Kenyan Starbucks but better) that I was just at 8 days ago with some friends who came and visited me here in Kenya. And how the world has been turned upside down since then. Last Tuesday, I boarded a matatu from Nairobi to head to Mt Kenya to climb the tallest mountain in Kenya (and second in Africa) for both personal pleasure and as well to raise money for The Samburu Project.
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