John Marshall and the Ju/'hoansi

The African giraffe stumbles to a halt, bewildered by the poisoned spears studding its breast and flanks. Moments later, it falls stiffly backward. The giraffe's slender legs point skyward, then swing sideways as it collapses in the desert dust. The scene flashes to a Ju/'hoansi hunter, tearing into a joint of glistening red meat with his knife.

Read the rest of my piece about filmmaker John Marshall's footage of one of Africa's last hunter-gatherer tribes, in the Nov. 2009 issue of Smithsonian.

My trip to Africa

Published in The Post-Star (B1)
4/22/07

Four down, three to go.

As a senior in high school, I naively included "travel to every continent" in the "future plans" section of my yearbook profile. It seemed achievable, since of course I would have a fabulous job as a ... well, I didn't really know. As a professional traveler, I guess.

Earlier this month, I got my first taste of Africa on a vacation to Kenya and Uganda.
My college roommate, Jenna, lives and works in Kijabe, Kenya, a rural village about an hour northwest of Nairobi on the edge of the Great Rift Valley. She is the assistant to the director of a hospital run by CURE International, a Christian medical charity that works in developing countries to treat children with disabilities like clubfoot, cleft palate, spina bifida and hydrocephalus.

I started saving for a plane ticket almost immediately after Jenna moved. My friends all know that gaining an international zip code basically guarantees I'll visit them, even if I only saw them once a year when they lived within driving distance.

My childhood friend Courtney joined me on the trip. She teaches global studies at a high school in western New York, and fell in love with Africa after taking an educational vacation to Uganda last year. We left New York City for Nairobi (a 19-hour trip via London) for 10 days on April 6.

These are some of the highlights:

April 7
The night air felt wonderfully balmy -- around 70 degrees -- as we stepped outside the Nairobi airport, but I noticed that the locals were wearing warm jackets and hats. From their slightly sub-equatorial perspective, this was practically winter.

April 8
We visited an outdoor tribal crafts market, and came away with ebony wood carvings, brightly striped scarves and hematite jewelry. I knew that simply being a "mzungu" (Swahili for "white person") meant I would get charged extra, but enjoyed the game of haggling. Strangest deal of the day: a soapstone dish in exchange for my used ballpoint pen (the guy grabbed the pen and wouldn't give it back, so I really didn't have a choice). I turned down a similar offer involving my sunglasses.

Then we went to the animal orphanage in Nairobi National Park. The warthogs were ugly, the ostrich was goofy and the lions were magnificent, as expected, but the unexpected highlight was walking into the cheetahs' cage with their keeper to pet them. Apparently, growing up around humans had made them quite tame. They purred like overgrown housecats at our touch.

April 9
Potholes the size of wading pools had eaten most of the road to the Nakuru wildlife preserve, a dusty three-hour drive from Kijabe. We passed people plowing fields and digging ditches by hand, or walking for miles between towns with heavy bundles balanced on their heads. I bet they would laugh out loud at the idea of paying for a fitness club membership.

Our van had a pop-up roof that provided a vantage point for safely viewing the animals in the park. Baboons came the closest, often gathering on the roadside to watch us watch them. The rhinoceroses only allowed us some distant photographs of their departing backsides, but the zebras were more flirtatious, sometimes galloping across the road within yards of our van. The giraffes stood in shady patches, tugging mouthfuls of leaves off the trees, and looked mildly amused by our excitement at spotting them.

Flamingoes gathered by the thousands on the shore of Lake Nakuru, forming a bright pink ribbon visible from miles away. We walked along the beach and took photos as the birds poked at the sand in the shallows, seeking food and murmuring to each other. Their gentle cacophony sounded like a nursery full of just-waking babies.

April 10-11
I was expecting to rough it on this trip, and was surprised to discover not only indoor plumbing and clean drinking water in Kijabe, but high-speed Internet access. We stayed in a lovely home owned by American missionary doctors who were away on vacation.

A walk into the village outside the medical compound revealed humbler neighborhoods -- houses cobbled together from scraps of metal and wood; cement-faced shops with quirky handpainted signs like "Photocopy Hello Services Etc." and "Barbers Ghetto Haircut" -- but the kids running around seemed happy and healthy.

A man named Samuel came to clean the house, and we started chatting about U.S. politics. Like many Kenyans, Samuel was fascinated by Barack Obama, and knew as much (if not more) about the 2008 presidential race as the average American. He predicts that Hillary Clinton will lose the Democratic nomination to Obama, "because people would not like to have a woman in charge."

Some of Jenna's Kenyan friends came over for dinner. We ate chicken, ugali (cornmeal paste formed into a thick, breadlike patty), scuma (like shredded kale or spinach cooked with spices), and fish stewed in coconut milk. Following their lead, I ate with my hands, using the ugali as a utensil to pick up the scuma and fish sauce. Delicious.

April 12
We flew to Entebbe, Uganda today. Jenna's friend Sam (another CURE staffer) picked us up at the airport to drive us to our hotel in Kampala. Jenna asked what great plans he had to entertain us, and got a chilling response.

"The plan is to keep you safe," he said. "There are riots in the city. Three people have already been killed."

Sam explained the Ugandan government wants to sell part of a national nature preserve -- Mabira Forest -- to an Indian sugar corporation (not coincidentally, one in which the government owns a majority stake) that would cut down the trees and plant sugarcane. Many Ugandans were outraged by this move, and had organized a major protest in Kampala. Police broke their promise not to use tear gas and bullets, protesters broke their promise to be peaceful, and things got ugly in a hurry. An Indian motorcyclist was stoned to death; a journalist was run over by a car; shops were looted and cars were set on fire.

We were also 1)riding in a vehicle that had been donated to CURE by the government, and still looked official enough that the rioters might target us, and 2)nearly out of diesel, and had already tried three gas stations that were out due to a national shortage. Traffic was snarled by numerous breakdowns as people had no choice but to drive until they ran out of fuel.

Using side roads, we made it to Sam's gated house on the city's outskirts. He kept us there until things calmed down. When we drove through downtown that evening to reach our hotel, the streets were scarred with stones, broken glass and burnt debris, but a fierce rainstorm had dispelled the crowd. To my relief, we managed to find a gas station with some diesel left to sell.

The next day, the government-aligned newspaper blamed the violence on long-standing racial tension between blacks and Indians in Uganda, and focused on the death of the motorcyclist. They didn't explain how the other two victims were killed -- probably by police firing on the crowd.

April 13
After stocking up on more souvenirs at an outdoor market, we went to Mukono, a village just outside Kampala. Courtney's friend Nora lives there, and brought us to visit her daughter Comfort's boarding school. Uganda's public school system is so weak that parents must struggle to find the fees for boarding school if they want their kids to get a decent education.

We were quickly mobbed by children fascinated by our foreignness and fancy cameras. I was surprised at how simple the living conditions were, since "boarding school" in the U.S. is usually equated with wealth and privilege. Here, kids slept in bunks stacked three high in warehouselike rooms, washed themselves and their clothes in plastic basins outside, and all wore the same close-shaved haircuts and simple green uniforms.

Comfort was a shy, endearing 9-year-old who said she wants to be a doctor someday. I asked her what she planned to do on her upcoming school vacation. "Help my mother with doing dishes and sweeping the house," she said. (Note to parents: See what happens when TV and Nintendo aren't an option?)

Trips like this always remind me that even though I sometimes feel "poor" compared to my American peers, I'm rich by the standards of many others in the world. I could see it in the eyes of the African kids, and even in some of the adults'. They looked at us so hopefully, as though we might have superhero capes tucked beneath our sweaty T-shirts. I wish we did.

Local woman opens a window of aid to Africa

Published on 12/3/2006 in THE POST-STAR

What started as a Saratoga County couple's vacation splurge -- a bike race in South Africa, and a visit to Victoria Falls -- became a humanitarian surge that is powering the transformation of an entire African village.

World's Window, a new nonprofit organization based in Ballston Lake, is working to replace poverty with self-sustainability and empowerment, starting with the small, rural village of Chikandakubi in western Zimbabwe.

Seven professionals from the Capital District just returned from a three-week voluntary mission to Chikandakubi through World's Window. They brought 26 suitcases full of supplies, helped the villagers construct a workshop, and offered their expertise in the areas of medicine, animal breeding, engineering and education.

"We're a small number of people who feel strongly about making a difference. You have to leave your ego and agenda at the door, and say, 'What can I do to help?' " said Denise Stasik, a health care worker from Ballston Spa who worked in the medical clinic and women's empowerment projects.

When the group arrived, at least 50 women and children met them beside the road, extending their hands and chanting in welcome.

"It was the warmest, most emotional greeting I have ever had in my entire life," said Cindy Schmehl, the founder and president of World's Window. "They are so appreciative of the help we are trying to give them to help them earn a living for themselves."

Her husband, Tim, was among the volunteers. He used his skills as an engineer to install solar electricity panels and improve wells.

"It was really a lot of work, but the rewards were so much better than going and taking a cruise or something," he said. "It was very useful to a large number of people. It helped change their lives."

'I can't just leave them'

Cindy and Tim Schmehl didn't expect to change anyone's life when they first traveled to Africa together in 2003. Friends had invited Tim to join a bike race in South Africa, and Cindy was thrilled at the rare chance to travel internationally.

On a side trip to the neighboring country of Zimbabwe to see one of the Seven Wonders of the World, Victoria Falls, the couple started chatting with a local man after repeatedly running into him. His name was Godfrey Dube.

Cindy asked Dube if he knew how they could visit one of the surrounding villages. "He responded in the style we've heard a lot since then: 'Sure, that can be done,' " Tim remembered. After a bumpy ride in Dube's battered car, the Schmehls got their first glimpse of Chikandakubi, home to about 1,500 members of the minority Ndbelle tribe.

The Schmehls were struck by both the extreme poverty they saw, and the friendly openness of the villagers. "I realized how much I have as an American -- how lucky I am," Cindy said.

Donkey carts, or bare feet, were the only forms of transportation; malaria was rampant, and food was scarce. Gardens were often trampled by elephants. The village school had broken windows, no desks and a chalkboard too chipped to write on. Teachers and students sat together on a pockmarked cement floor, lacking simple tools like pencils, paper or books.

Cindy's eyes filled with tears as they got on the plane to go home. "She said, 'I can't just leave them,' " Tim remembered.

He had no idea how much she meant that.

She started out collecting pens and pencils to send to the school, but decided that wasn't enough. By 2004, she had returned to Chikandakubi, bringing supplies and volunteers from the Rotary Club. The need was much larger than one short-term project could meet, however.

Thinking big

In June 2005, Cindy registered World's Window Inc. as a nonprofit dedicated to "providing humanitarian aid in the form of education, services, supplies and materials to areas of the world in desperate need."

Dube, the man who introduced the Schmehls to Chikandakubi, is now the project manager for World's Window -- and the group has a lot of projects there. So far, World's Window has built a medical clinic, library, orphanage and men's woodworking shop in Chikandakubi. They have also launched an array of other projects that include planting drought-resistant trees with edible leaves; preventing and researching malaria; empowering women; training teachers; providing transportation; breeding farm animals; and distributing basic essentials like toiletries and clothing.

If that seems like a lot to juggle for a fledgling organization that's still based in the Schmehls' home, consider Cindy's background. She ran her own event-planning business for five years, and managed the Latham Circle Mall before that. She's always enjoyed taking on projects that would daunt other people, her husband said.

"She's always done things big," he said. "The holidays are always pretty big productions in our home."

True to form, Cindy brought her own version of a big holiday production to Chikandakubi on the November trip. She brought along costumes -- the village school headmaster dressed as Santa Claus while she played Mrs. Claus -- and hundreds of "goody bags" for the children, each one containing a toy and some basic necessities.

"We were prepared for 350 children, and when we arrived, there were 500, so we had to scramble to come up with extra bags, but we did it," Cindy said.

So much need

Cindy explained that the village population -- particularly in terms of school-age children -- is growing rapidly in recent months for a troubling reason. Unemployment is over 80 percent in Zimbabwe, and the few jobs that exist are mostly in cities, which is why several thousand families have moved away from Chikandakubi in the past decade or so.

But as in many African countries, the HIV infection rate is also extraordinarily high, affecting about 20 percent of Zimbabwe's population.

"Many of those people who left to seek employment elsewhere have now developed AIDS and are returning to their villages to find family. Our medical clinic is going to be hit hard," Cindy predicted. "The other thing is, many of them are bringing back children who will be left on their own. Right now, it's not unusual for a 9- or 10-year-old to be head of household."

Chikandakubi's small primary school already has 89 orphans, she said. Drought and political upheaval have crippled the country once known as "the breadbasket of Africa" so much that when World's Window volunteers interviewed 160 orphans from the Chikandakubi schools about what they needed to stay in school, most said, "Food."

After seeing such great need, going to an American grocery store is "an emotional experience," Cindy said.

Denise Stasik said she was especially struck by the response of one 16-year-old girl, whose diet consisted of one cup of porridge every other day.

"She said, 'I only need food. With food, I can think. And if I can think, I can do anything.' "

Working together

By speaking and showing pictures of Chikandakubi in churches, schools and civic groups whenever she can, Cindy has already attracted a broad base of support for World's Window. The eight-member board of directors includes professionals from the health care community, educators and business owners. Several school districts in the Capital District region have signed up to participate in a cross-cultural exchange with the Chikandakubi schools, and a program is in the works that could add Coxsackie Correctional Facility inmates to World's Window's base of volunteers. The New York State Department of Health, through the Wadsworth Center at SUNY Albany, is helping with the malaria research project.

"The projects just keep multiplying, because the need is so great," said Cindy.

World's Window will always be committed to Chikandakubi, she said, but eventually she hopes the organization will be large enough to make a difference in other communities throughout the world.

"Our vision is to make the entire village self-sustaining as a whole," she said. "And as we grow, I hope to reach out to other places. It could be in another African country, or it could even be in an impoverished part of the U.S."

Although her husband said he's "a little bit in awe of what she's been able to accomplish," Cindy shrugs off the praise. "I'm just an ordinary woman. I love children, and I love people," she said. "I'm not an expert in anything, but I work very, very hard and surround myself with people who do have the expertise to help all the projects along."

Besides, she said, none of this has happened by coincidence.

"I just believe that I'm being led down a certain path," she said. "And I don't think God would ever give me something I couldn't handle."

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WHAT YOU CAN DO Volunteers are invited to join a World's Window trip to Chikandakubi at their own cost. The next trip, scheduled for February 2007, is currently full, but space is available on the November 2007 trip. The organization also needs volunteers to help with general office tasks and grant applications, and is seeking members for a medical advisory committee, women's empowerment committee, and golf tournament committee. Donations of money and office supplies are also needed. To learn more, visit http://www.worlds-window.org/, e-mail cindy@worlds-window.org or call 877-0382.