September 2009

Kirk visits with children during his travels with daughter Ava.

African surprise

by Ava and Kirk Talbott

Ava Talbott visits with rehabilitating disabled children at a hospital near Mount Kenya.

We enjoyed Africa's wondrous natural world.

Ava captured this photo of a sleeping giant: a Rwandan Mountain Gorilla.

This was the first time in our African adventure that we might be crossing into the danger zone. Each of the three countries we visited had recently emerged from civil strife or war, but we had always felt safe. Would this time be different? We expected the unexpected as we crossed the bridge into Sudan and drove up to the first of many military checkpoints.

We looked at each other, readied our smiles and stepped out of the Land Rover to walk over and meet the eyes of the soldiers.

It had been this way for us, Ava, 15, and her dad, since we first touched down in Nairobi, a long way from our home in Silver Spring. We came to spend two weeks traveling through Kenya, Rwanda and Uganda and, in spite of their recent crises, each had provided the setting for a safe and exhilarating trip. We didn’t know what would come, but with some planning and friends in-country we knew it would work well.

There was the immediate and stark juxtaposition of abject poverty against vibrant, entrepreneurial street-market bustle. In spite of a simmering undercurrent of violence in Nai-robbery, as it is often called, we were struck by the immediate friendliness of people of all ages.

There is also the drop-dead beauty of Africa. Right outside Nairobi, the savanna opened up to a wondrous natural world replete with story book wildlife.

Our first day we drove to Kenya’s Masai Mara park. Soon after entering the gate, we saw a pride of lions a few feet from our vehicle gorging on a buffalo kill from that morning. Hyenas and jackals sulked and drooled nearby. Two days later, we drove onto the sand beach of Lake Nakuru. There we were met by the overwhelming smell and sound of hundreds of thousands of loud, pink flamingoes, with rhinos, giraffes, elephants, and a leopard in the distant arcadia forest.

On the slopes of Mount Kenya, we stayed with Shikuku and Christine, old friends of the family who are ethnic Luos in the middle of Kikuyu tribal land. The fury of tribal violence unleashed by last year’s contested elections had forced them to take their family to Tanzania. But all was back to normal when we were there. We were able to visit a disabled children’s home where Italian nuns poured love and support for their orphans. The songs and sights of children trying out new prosthetics and taking advantage of the kindness and attention of the staff made us feel especially alive.

Totally unexpected was this story from Shikuku and Christine. After visiting us in Silver Spring this winter, they had met Sarah, President Obama’s paternal grandmother, at the Presidential Inauguration. She was in a wheelchair being escorted by two secret service agents in the freezing weather. Shikuku and Christine had caught her Luo eye, and they were able to introduce themselves. Sarah invited them to visit her in Western Kenya. They did that and learned that Christine’s great-grandfather was Barack Obama’s grandfather’s brother. Small world.

Rwanda is very small—its recent history is anything but.

We were immediately struck by the cleanliness of the capital, Kigali, and soon learned that Rwanda is one of the least corrupt countries in Africa. We met with the Clinton Foundation and some health workers who described the recent measurable success of public health in rural communities. We visited the genocide museum, small and sensitive in presenting the unfathomable three-month carnage from April to June fifteen years ago. There were short videos and memorabilia of other genocides from Armenia, Namibia, Germany, and Bosnia. There were hundreds of photos of Rwandan children who had met their fate at the hand of the machete. We stood outside over a long cement walkway covering 350,000 bodies from the Kigali region.

We also joined a few others, including guides and two armed guards, to spend an hour with a family of wild mountain gorillas on the high slopes of Rwanda’s majestic slice of the Virunga volcano chain. “Go with the Sousa group,” we were told, for they are the biggest and coolest. Luck would have it that our little gang of eight gorillas included two-day- and three-month-old babies. Ava appreciated the frolicking of two teenage gorillas who tumbled and somersaulted within feet of our camera-wielding pack of travelers. Mom and silverback Dad didn’t seem nearly as concerned about them as we them. The steep fee of $500 was worth every penny for the eco-tourism it was providing for the local community. Magic amidst the fallout of recent unspeakable genocidal slaughter.

Northern Uganda was a highlight of the trip with our visit to the Invisible Children office in Gulu. Our four days with Jolly, the director of the program, and her team was spent learning about the programs on the ground to help rehabilitate child war victims. It was truly the kind of experience one will never forget. Together, hundreds of families are rebuilding their lives in concert with American students and youth across our country. Who would have thought that Northern Uganda—with its Murchison Falls, often described as the most spectacular feature along the 6,700 kilometers of the Nile—would be so terrific?

But now we were across the border into the ‘new’ Southern Sudan, where a ceasefire exists between the guerrilla army and the Khartoum government. We had read about this region and the unimaginable hardship suffered by a generation of Southern Sudanese, including the Dinka and Nuer who manned the checkpoints in front of us. Even though the aid workers had said we were safe with a good vehicle, driver and a note from the Ugandan border station, we did not have visas and the soldiers with tribal scars and AK47s looked rough.

Just as we had learned before, the two of us would look out for each other and meet the moment. Sure enough, as Ava smiled and gave a local handshake to the senior officer, we explained our friendly visit and were on our way. We thought we were scot-free until we were called into a third post where two impossibly tall Dinka soldiers gave us a chill. But—surprise—there was no problem, and the warm conversation that complemented our warm Fantas was perhaps the most unexpected moment of our trip.

Ava Talbott is a junior at Sandy Spring Friends School. Her father, Kirk, is president of the World Affairs Councils of America. He has traveled and worked in Africa and Asia over the past 30 years to support civil society and sustainable development.