Meanwhile, a chicken was being slaughtered on the other side of my bedroom door

Disclaimer:

     Some of you may not like what I have to say. You may disagree, I may offend a bit, and I might come off a bit too harsh. This is just a blurb of what I had learned as of my third week in the field of development, followed up by an even smaller blurb from earlier today. A few months ago, I never thought I'd be writing something so critical; but then again, maybe I needed a little more criticism in my life rather than taking things so easy.

     P.S. Don't worry, laid-back Richelle is still alive and well! Just with a different outlook on some things.

The Odd Sides Of Development

     During my first three weeks of working in development, I feel as though I have already encountered many struggles within the field that are not very often talked about. And if they are talked about, then they're probably not highlighted—rather, I think that people tend to skim over these issues because they are incredibly difficult issues to overcome.

     The first is the shelf-life of NGOs. Somebody mentioned the other day that most NGOs do not last past three to five years. To me, development sounds like a rotating door of NGOs that all try to tackle really important issues; however, if the door keeps rotating, that means that nothing stays still. And if nothing stays still—at least for a little while—then there is very little opportunity to create tangible solutions. When I heard about this shelf-life I was very surprised...I feel like you always hear of these really great NGOs that are starting up, but you never hear about NGOs going under. I suppose that they shut down due to inadequate funding/sustainability or overreaching aspirations. Of course, I am making a complete generalization. There are many successful NGOs in the world and I really do believe that they serve an incredibly important purpose. I love the idea of NGOs and the missions that they serve (at least most of them). However, if the majority of them do not survive, then the effectiveness is questionable. I have to ask: If a five-year-old NGO falls down in a forest and only a few people are around, does it make enough of a sound?

     The second has to do with an organization that I've had my issues with in the past: TOMS. One for One. It sounds good! People feel like they've done a poor child some good when they buy their $44 pair of canvas shoes that fall apart in a few months. The purchasers are happy, so everything's good, right? Wrong. I know that the downside of TOMS has been discussed at length, but let me summarize it really quickly.          There are small problems (the shoe sizes of the children not necessarily being catered to, the rate at which kid's feet grow, etc.) so I will focus on my main issue with them: the last of sustainability. Suh.stane.uh.billITy. FSD's favorite word and one of the biggest things I have been/will be learning about during my time here in Kakamega. Plainly put, the shoes will be torn apart after a few good months. The shoes will get their share of wear and the rocky terrain and incredibly rainy weather tendencies are not very conducive a long life span for canvas shoes. And what happens when they are trashed? The child is without TOMS once again because they definitely do not supply shoes for a lifetime.

     If you can't tell, I may or may not have participated in a TOMS shoes distribution the other day. It's true, it does feel good to see the kids so happy when they receive their shoes! They're excited and you're glad to see them excited (and you also score a free pair along with it). I will give the company some credit: it is a very good temporary way to avoid jiggers, which is especially rampant in this area. These shoes are also better than the rubber flip flops (or “slippers”) that I see so many people wearing. Nonetheless, its long-term benefits are absent.

     While discussing my frustrations about TOMS with her, my sister helped me remember the root and branch methods of solving problems that I studied in my United States Politics class last semester. It is exactly how it sounds. When you tackle a problem using the root method, you take into consideration every single issue involved and go straight to the cause of these issues. From there, you reform. However, with the branch method, you basically just put a band aid on the issues that are going on. It is quick, clean, and easy. And this is how the majority of our problems are solved.

     TOMS is a perfect example of Western intervention using branch methods to tackle something that is caused by poverty rather than contributing to alleviating poverty. Sure, sometimes we need to have a quick-fix for some things, but do we really need it on such a large scale? So large that it takes away from the bigger ultimate goal?

     Let's wrap up this discussion about TOMS in a nice package with a bow on it: oh wait, that's what TOMS is. It's a feel-good approach to fixing minimal problems. But once the package is opened, there's nothing inside. The mystique has dissolved and now you're without a pretty put-together box.

     Whoah. Just a side note, a lot of the Kenyans I know like to speak in metaphor...I think it's contagious and I apologize. But just a little.

     This model has gotten me to think more about what makes a successful organization. TOMS is booming and incredibly successful despite its huge downfalls. So is this what it takes to become a well-known, income-generating NGO? Come up with a model that sells? Does it not have to be sustainable as long as it appeals to the masses with money? Ehh, I don't think so. I still believe that NGOs can be successful without going the way that TOMS did. It just has to have the right timing and management. What the right timing and management actually is, I have no clue. But that's okay.

     The whole TOMS thing also brings up the good ole development vs. aid debate. Which I don't really want to get into right now. In short, I have seen many organizations so dependent on external funding that if the funding stopped, the organization would follow. Which is pretty disheartening. At the same time, though, many of these NGOs are providing free and necessary services to the community that cannot otherwise afford these resources. So how do you make an income off of that? How can it really survive without the aid?

     The main lesson I've learned through my Kenyan work experience:

     Starting and maintaining an NGO is hard. Development is hard. Everything is hard and requires a balanced equation that nobody really has the answer key to.

     So that's that. That's my spiel about what I've observed in the past few weeks. It's a bit jaded, but I still have faith in the field.

Fast forward three weeks...

     I have just completed my sixth week of my internship and my position on the matter holds. I just have one more thing to add to my mini epic on sustainability and aid and development and all the good things in the world.

     I remember one day in World Politics we had a discussion about aid and the extent to which it is effective. One anti-aid stance was focused on the argument of dependency. We discussed the possibility that providing so much outside monetary help would result in the receiving end being overly dependent. Of course, when we were discussing this, I thought to myself “No way, everything's fine! Everybody takes responsibility for their stuff and there's cohesiveness in the development world!” In retrospect, I think I had too much of a sunshiney, nearly pristine and Hans Zimmermany outlook.

     As much as I hate to say it, I have proven myself wrong. There is one school community in particular that I am working with towards sensitizing their community about the health services offered at the hospital right down the street (side note: there's a large misinterpretation of what the hospital actually provides...such a gap). As I was discussing a hopeful relationship between the school and hospital in the future, the community representative began asking me about the free services they'll get and whether I'd be able to fund them or have my “people” back home fund them. Wait a minute...what?? I joked around with him and lightheartedly—but also seriously—explained to him that I am on scholarship and have to work hard to attend school. His response: “Yes, but you are in a developed country.” My internal response: “Yes, but just look at my mountain of debt.” I know that Kenya being an ex-British colony has a lot to do with the general image of mzungus, but the piles of aid doesn't necessarily help how I'm received when I'm walking through a crowd of mutatu drivers; meanwhile, a box drifts past me reading “USAID: From the American People.”

     My final stance: No, aid is not the devil. It is very necessary for programs and such to exist and run smoothly. As much as I'd like it to, the world can not function without money. But when monetary help on one side turns into dependency on expected incoming funds is when we get into dangerous territory. For an organization—or even society for that matter—to flourish, it must have the tools to stand on its own two feet, not have the tools handed to them every time. Weening is a good thing!

     Once again, we have a very delicate balance. How do we manage it? Oy, I don't know.

With a ridiculous amount of stubbed toes

Wowwowywowwow, pole for not updating this for years!

     I suppose it has been a couple of weeks since my last post. How do I condense it all?

Work has been very relaxed the past couple of weeks as I have continued to observe, partake in events, and figure out my work plan for my remaining time in Kakamega. I started attending HIV/AIDS support group meetings. The first time I went, I expected it to be something like a scene from Rent; however, it was probably the most opposite of Rent that I could imagine. The members laughed and attended to business and I didn't actually hear one therapeutic analysis. The group I have been shadowing is incredibly established, though, and is in the process of setting up their new office. Tomorrow I will be attending an all woman's group that is less official, so maybe it will present something new. I have decided to turn my attention to the unfulfilled medical referrals for the learners of one community school in particular. It will be a difficult task to tackle, especially in just 3 ½ remaining weeks at this organization; however, I am looking forward to the challenge, especially since it seems like I will maintain my normal work schedule on top of managing this project.

     I have gotten better at accepting all the unneeded attention. Walking down the street, I hear so many Hello, *mzungu, how are you?s in the most over-exaggerated voices. For the majority of the time, I accept that I am the local mzungu and respond with a smile and a “Hello! I'm fine, thank you. No, thank you, I am going by foot today.” however, there is one instance where the attention is a bit too much. Sherry (fake name for my supervisor) and I wanted to get some mangoes for lunch a couple weeks back, so I suggested that we go to my friend's stand, my savior from the rain. Surprise, surprise, Sherry knows the man's mother, who was also at the stand. I had met the mother earlier that morning, so she was even more excited to see me back the second time and with Sherry. Now, though, whenever I return to the stand and the mother is there, there is SO much pressure! Sherry said that the mother is very proud that her son has a mzungu friend. What?? I didn't even do anything! So now that the mom has that pride, the man has become shy and embarrassed, and I become just weird (and not in a good way) because I do not react well to so much pressure. Oy.

     Fun little diddy: my host niece was using me as a doll again the other day and turned me into her own personal piki piki! She just climbed onto my lap, took my knees, and starting making whizzing noises and honking. Too cute. 

     Mmm, I have also listened to my coworkers' opinions and personal stories on many different controversial issues such as homosexuality (which is greatly looked down upon in Kenya...like, deathly looked down upon), the not uncommon practice of polygamy, and politics. As difficult as it has been biting my tongue, it has been very interesting hearing what they have to say. I realized that I've sort of isolated myself from other opinions...I find that I surround myself with people who think similarly; so much, in fact, that I forgot that people with other ideas exist! I think that I have a better understanding of the way they approach certain issues; however, their viewpoints have made me more concrete in my opinions, in a way. So that's good, I think...

     Oh! I almost forgot!

My Kenyan 4^th of July

     After a monotonous day of organizing the medicine cabinets at work and social security fund projects and rushing home on a pikipiki, I met up with ten FSD pals for dinner at a fantastic place called Forest Green. On the outside it just seems like a run-down hotel. However, it was actually surprisingly cozy and urban on the inside.

     That night, the restaurant could hardly fit eleven people all at one common area, especially since it was sufficiently crowded. So a couple of fantastic locals shared their table and laughter with us. They talked about their lives and I split an order of vegetable curry with chapati and chips masala (a fancy way of eating french fries). We then proceeded to storm Club Ripple in downtown Kakamega.

Holy moley. This club. What words can describe this club? To begin, it was bumpin 90s R&B while playing some weird desert storm movie on the televisions that speckled the bar. Occasionally the Djs would play a little Beyonce or Britney or Black Eyed Peas AKA the greatest combo pack. If love at peace are so strong...my favorite was when they played “Carry Out,” a song that epitomized my drives from school to swim practice senior year of high school. I basically spent the night laughing and seat-dancing (there were only three men dancing and it was apparently just not the dancing sort of night for the locals). Oh, I also saw a rat running up the speaker...Hilary (a fellow intern) and I shared a look of disgusted and frightened amazement, followed by disbelieving laughter. Awww, domestic party rats.

     And then also...

My Most Proud Moment: Seconds on Guacamole

     It has been suggested that we make dinner for our families at least once during our home stays. The easiest—and my favorite—recipe within my skills set is, of course, guacamole. I reserved a night to make dinner and bought all the ingredients, which may or may not have included an incredibly rainy trip to the market. I wanted to serve it with beans and chapati; however, chapati takes a very inconvenient amount of time, so I opted for rice. I intended to make it all myself, but when I got home, my host cousin Michelle was making the beans and rice already. Fun fact: this was her first time making rice. And beans, now that I think of it. So I just went on my way, chopping and preparing the guac. The tomatoes, onions, and garlic I chopped for the green dish ended up in the beans without my knowing...oy! So I rechopped new vegetables and such (and cilantro! Yummm) and we enjoyed a garlicy-tomatoey-oniony goodness. I was unsure of whether or not my family actually enjoyed it...they kept saying things like “Mmm, it's sweet!” (because everything good is sweet) but I was still skeptical because I have heard that guac is either hit or miss with host families.

     To my great delight, Momma Mary asked me to make the same dish when I returned from work the next day. SUCCESS! This time we ate it with gderi (beans and maize) and bananas. Ooooooweeee it was so good. One of my favorites, for sure. Ah. Now I want it tonight...dangit.

The guacamole experience is just one instance that has helped me get even closer with my family. It goes without saying that things with them keep getting better and better.

Mid-Term Retreat, Naivasha Edition: Land of Casual Zebras

     Last Thursday morning, I headed out of Kakamega and off to Naivasha with the rest of the interns and the site team (minus Peter) in two spacious vans. Naivasha is about two hours northwest of Nairobi. It is home to three beautiful lakes, a volcanic mountainish place to hike, and Hell's Gate. Apparently, there used to be many Maasai living in the area until a huge storm came and flooded the place. A great amount of Maasai died from this flood; hence, Hell's Gate. This is also the place where Lion King was based off of. We drove for four hours without any problem besides the overly-bumpy-underdeveloped road; we were all sleepy and in need of a bathroom, so we stopped for lunch. After eating, we were on the road again. We were chugging along, chugging along, until surprise surprise, one of our vans got a flat tire. One second we were whizzing down the highway; the next, we were whizzy backwards in the shoulder, going the opposite direction of traffic to accompany the flat-tired van. Our drivers changed the tire within twenty minutes and we were again on our way to Naivasha.

     Overall it took about six hours to get to Naivasha. After lunch we had to drive through the town, past a copious amount of resorts, and numerous greenhouses just to get pulled over by the Tourist Police. They told us to accompany them to their station and we did not ask any questions. After questioning the site team about our visas, the reason for us being there, and a phone call to Peter, we all left the station confused. The drivers were to return to the station after dropping us off at the campsite. Apparently, it turned out to all be okay, though. Oy, the life of traveling amongst so many mzungus...

     We stayed at Fisherman's Camp, right at the waterside of Lake Naivasha. There is a hotel with a restaurant and bar occupying the bottom level, and a large amount of land for camping. We camped, of course. There were tents everywhere, lots of benches, and incredible sights. The place is notorious for hippos visiting its beaches at night—it's chill, though, because the campsite is surrounded by an electric fence to keep them out. There were also so many beautiful trees, some of which have toppled over into the lake in a disastrously gorgeous way. On top of that, there were huge swan-like birds loitering around the dock and funny greenery living in the lake with puffball tops. The food was delicious (we had our first pizzas in over a month!) and there were more mzungus than I had seen since Zurich combined.

     The FSD Kakamega crew went to Crater Lake for a day; we thought it would be a day of hiking around a lake, but it ended up practically being a walking safari. As soon as we left our vans, a giraffe welcomed us to the park with the most graceful, awkward, slow-motion gallop. It was absolutely fantastic and a bit surreal. For the most part, we spent the morning stalking three giraffes and followed them to a field with numerous giraffes and zebras. In addition to these great animals, we spotted warthogs, impalas, and backed away slowly from a bull. A bull? A bison? Ehh, I honestly can't remember. It was some large, gruesome beast.

     We enjoyed sack lunches (courtesy of Fisherman's) under a dramatic tree of either veggie burgers (bean and onion patties) or chicken burgers with chips and chips and chips**.

     After that, we hiked up a hill and down and hill, through the gorgeous forest to a resort on Crater Lake. It was possibly the most beautiful resort/setting I have ever seen! There was a buffet/seating area literally on top of the lake. It was kind of like the Lake House...

     That night, two other interns and I saw three hippos out of water. WHAT. So cool! There were two adults and a little one. We tried to protect its privacy and keep the baby a secret, but people noticed it. Oops. Then one of the hippos starting yelling at the other one, scaring it back into the water. While all this was going on, there was a cat lurkin real close to the hippos. Ah! It was so closer to them, accepting its own fate. Thankfully, there were no cat murders and the feline made it out alive.

     The next day I went kayaking with two other interns. One of them almost hit me out of my kayak, so that was good. But it was really nice being out on the water, just the three of us. It was quite secluded...also, summer isn't right if it isn't at least partially on the water! The rest of the weekend, we relaxed, walked, chatted with a few cool people, and played kickball.

     One night I chatted a lot with the resident man in charge of tours and such named Offin. Turns out, he is from Kakamega! On top of this job, he has set up schools targeting Maasai children, IGAs for HIV/AIDS support groups having to do with flowers and greenhouses, and education on female circumcision. He also has a super cool purple hat that says “SWAGG.” Therefore, he is great.

     To sum it all up, the weekend was fantastic. So much wildlife, so much beauty, so many great people, so much terrible music.

     One last thought...

The Realization That The Others Are Returning to Duke, Not Portland

     It is beginning to get a bit odd listening to people talk about hanging out once they get back to school since I won't be joining them. Yes, we are just over half way and still have three weeks left with them, but still. I've told them that if they can get me a killer scholarship I would transfer in a heartbeat. However, I do not think that is going to happen. Which is fine, because I like Portland anyway. I do wish that I could bring them all with me, though.

*General term for foreigner. It's not derogatory, but people often call me mzungu to get my attention. This used to bug me a bit. I used to think “Come on, guys, I have a name!” Now, though, it is not bad. I like to think I've done an adequate job of embracing the mzunguness.

**Keep in mind that chips are actually french fries. Colonialism, doe. 

Most of my pictures all look the same, but to me that doesn't make them any less beautiful

Shitoho, one of the four ACCES Community Learning Centers.

                         

The jigger man making his feet beautiful.

A goat pregnant with three babies. THREE!

Just a quick note: I feel like most of these pictures do not need captions. Enjoy them, add your own commentary, see what I saw. Because, really, I wish I could have shared this day with everyone.

One lone tree in the grasslands. You don't go there, Simba.

 

     

I will forever be covered in dust

My friends,

   I apologize for my lacking communication skills! It has been far too long since my last blog post. So let me tell you about my last two weeks of practicing patience and flexibility in sections.

Part One: The Time I Flew All The Way To Kenya And Ended Up Doing Something Completely Different Than I Had Planned

   So the title of this section basically explains everything. I was supposed to work with an organization that focused on empowering people living with disabilities. Although it is an incredible organization full of passion and commitment, I found the organization without funding and leadership. On Tuesday I recognized that the organization would not work and I was out by Wednesday afternoon. For the time being, I was in No Man's Land. I spent a lot of time at the FSD office hanging out with the fantastic site team. They even included me on a field visit to a fellow-intern's organization to observe a community assembly addressing corruption issues.

   The whole coming-and-realizing-it-absolutely-wouldn't-work thing was a bit difficult for me to swallow at first; but then, after Peter's wise words of “Relax!” and “Welcome to Africa!” I relaxed and embraced the African practice of flexibility. So that Friday I began at my new organization: Africa Canada Continuing Education Society. Here, their mission is to foster social and economic development through education. Some of the projects they embark on are building primary schools for orphans and children of very limited means, providing health and gender services to these children and the community, providing scholarships for certain students from these schools that will enable them to continue on to secondary school, providing scholarships for college and university students with very limited means, agrobusiness income-generating activities that are focused in the communities surrounding the ACCES schools, and vocational training. So basically, it's the breeding ground of truly amazing and inspiring work.

   The only issue is that there has been a nation-wide teachers strike. Public school teachers—and now some national school teachers—have taken a stance against government, arguing that they need to be paid more. Which, by the way, I totally agree with. Because of taxes and such, teachers only actually bring home a small portion of their paychecks to support themselves and their families. However, for a week now thousands of schools have been at a standstill while millions of students are forced to stay home. Even some boarding schools have sent their students home. This has even spread to the ACCES schools, which has inhibited certain work from being done. It does not seem like there is an end in sight, but I am hoping with all my might that the government and the teachers will come to some sort of agreement soon so students can return to their educations.

   Nonetheless, so far I have sat in on a meeting about the basic terms of quality needed for orphans and vulnerable children to be successful, I have assisted the Community Health Nurse de-jigger a man (a jigger is a nasty parasite that lives in the soil and makes its way into a person's feet and then multiplies and can even get in the way of a person's ability to walk), and visited the one ACCES school that remains in session called Shavagala. I have really been enjoying the people who I am working with. They all have such high spirits and love to laugh and joke and learn. It's great!

   So despite the slow-downs, it's been a great experience so far.

Part Two: The Time A Puppy Was Brought To The Office

   One of my coworkers (we'll call him Joe) bought a puppy from another coworker's sons. This puppy was delivered to the office today by the son and holy moley it's the cutest puppy! Everybody was surprised at me when I held the puppy and it started falling asleep in my arms. They were even more surprised when I took it outside to relieve itself when it wouldn't stop barking. I love the puppy. Joe left with the puppy. But now I just want it back. **It is also important to note that this co worker Joe has three main goal professions: to be a businessman, a professor, and a politician. Already, he's basically all three of those, but he wants them on a more grand scale. Today he told me that I he has observed that I have certain qualities of a good politician (I have no clue where he got that one, but I'll take it) and said that he wishes that I'd stay so that we can make a political partnership and change the lives of Kenyans. NOTE: These are his words, not mine. When he was saying this, a picture of Obama dancing into his arrival in Tanzania was sitting between the two of us. Joe said “Like Obama!” We then decided that we would cut Obama in half: Joe would be the right side, I'd be the left. Does it make sense? No, not really. But don't be surprised if I end up staying in Kenya in order to be Obama's left side.

Part Three: How I Came To Be Very Close With My Host Sisters

   I am not quite sure how it happened and I am not sure how to explain it. But for no good reason, I could not sleep last Tuesday night. For the weekend before, I was feeling very homesick and a bit out of it...just not myself. Then Tuesday night came. The second I laid down to sleep, I was wide awake. I kept feeling more and more energized and could not figure out why. I tried watching a movie, I tried planning next summer's internship, and I tried reading (by the way, if you're reading this Christian, I'm sorry but your copy of One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Next has gone through a lot of wear and tear). But no matter what I did, I could not lull myself to sleep. Then I realized that something about that night had snapped me back into being my normal self. I was feeling more social, more excited about the smallest of things, more me. Ever since that fateful night, things have gone incredibly smoothly. Everything has been so easy with my host family and coworkers. There was one night last week where the three of us (my two host sisters and I) were all just sitting on the extra bed in my room, hanging out and talking. Just like three sisters normally do (or what I'd expect them too...it's been far too long since I've been with just my two sisters COUGHsadCOUGH).

Part Four: The Most Slippery Walk In The Dark

   This past weekend I made my way to Kakamega Rainforest with the 12 other interns. The rainforest is situated about 20 kilometers from Kakamega town, but because of the bumpy dusty roads, it took us about forty minutes to an hour to get to our guest house. We stayed in two different types of buildings: one was outfitted with a large eating/sitting area, a kitchen, and three bedrooms while the other one was a large round boma filled with enough bunk beds to house about fourteen people. So the thirteen of us ate our yogurt, our avocados, our incredibly surgary peanut butter sandwiches, and our pre-packaged tea muffins without the tea and sat around, talking, and laughing and learning about one another.

   The next morning we rose at 4:30 AM in order to meet our rambunctious guide Abraham for a nice stroll in the forest. I was so smart when I was packing for the weekend: Oh, we're going to be hiking in the dark? Of COURSE I don't need my flashlight! Umm what? I was able to mooch off of other people's lights a little bit, but for a lot of it I was just convincing my body I knew where I was going by trudging through the forest with confident steps.

   We made it to the top of the tallest hill in the forest just about fifteen minutes before the sun rose over the surrounding hills. It was hands down the most beautiful sunrise I have ever seen. The fog that licked the tops of trees, the orange-red tips of the tall grasses, the sounds of the forest animals waking up...it was wonderful and a little bit surreal how perfect everything was while I was just munching on my bag of breakfast peanuts.

   We remained on the hilltop for a while before we hiked back down the very treacherous hill—by the way, how did we not realize how steep it was on the way up? We made a pit-stop in a cave to get attacked by bats for a hot second and then continued on our way back through the forest. The entire hike ended up being about 15 kilometers. Yep, 15 kilometers of beauty in nature. I was a pretty happy girl. Also, somehow I made it through without falling down! I slipped probably five times in two minutes at one point, yet I never fell. (Which is a good thing because I took a tumble down some stairs the day before and let's just say I have the worst bruise I've ever had. Baby's a little tender.)

   So fifteen kilometers, too many slips, and a handful of baboons later we were back at the lodging area, exhausted and ready for our welcoming beds at our home-stays.

Part Five: Now I'm Not So Sure How To End This Post

   So there you have it. That's a slight overview of what my life has been lately. I know it was a lot, but that was just the surface, trust me. Every day something a little odd happens—for example, I was on the bus back from visiting Shavagala and a man decided to stand up in the front of the bus and preach the word of the Lord. In Portland, most people would have gotten annoyed or impatient. But on that bus ride, people either politely ignored him, bowed their heads in thought, or even raised their hands and joined him in prayer.       Huh.

   There's that little snippet for ya.

   I can't quite think of anything else to put on here without reporting every detail of every day. Just know that I am doing well. This trip has been quite the roller coaster so far. The dips are tough, but the high parts are what make this experience fantastic. I know that I don't realize it as much as I will in the future, but this is an experience that will prove to be invaluable. I know it. It may not feel like it right now, but it will. And I'm grateful to be here and to share this opportunity with some truly great people, whether they are here in Kakamega town or back home in little sunny Auburn or wherever you may be.