West Pokot, Nakwjit

West Pokot is a stunningly beautiful place- the sort of landscape I would be happy to find myself lost in entirely I think. Kara and I went with Than to see another one of the projects he is working on. Africa Exchange (The small non-profit Than is a part of) works with communities developing ICDCs, or Integrated Child Development Centers, that prepare young children for primary school. Africa Exchange is developing/ supporting a number of these centers around Kenya, enabling them to become completely self-supporting. One way they are able to support themselves is through relatively low-impact, environmentally sound, income-generating projects. In West Pokot honey has been harvested traditionally, and could be a great source of income for the ICDC at Nakwjit.

Africa Exchange is in partnership with African Beekeepers- an organization that spreads bee-love around the country with new and improved bee-friendly honey harvesting technology. The beehives they produce and promote- do right by the bees... Honey is only harvest from the hives' excess- never taken from the stores that sustain the hive. And the queen and her babies are never bothered. It's a beautiful win win win sort of situation- the technology and equipment provided by African Beekeepers in partnership with Africa Exchange, enables the community to harvest top quality honey, with very little impact on the bees, sell it for the highest market prices, and ultimately support their ICDC and their children's education! Fantastic!

So hives were set up at Nakwjit some months ago, and we were on a mission to see how they were doing and harvest any honey that was ready to be harvested. Ken, a lovely, earnest beekeeper, came with Than to walk and talk folks through harvesting process with their new fandangled hives and equipment. Kara and I were simply along for the ride. Adventure really.

... Which began with having to traverse a fairly shallow but wide river on foot to get to the ICDC on the other side...

Like I said, BE-U-TI-FUL!

Below, Ken discusses how bees are very particular little critters and will only colonize nice, clean, orderly spaces. If a hive is infested with any other sort of dudu before the bees arrive- they won't enter and colonize it. Several hives had been thus invaded, and were in need of a thorough cleaning out of all cobwebs, bugs and whatever else was hindering bee settlement....
A late afternoon rainy season down-pour rolled in just as the fellows were bee-suiting-up and ready to go... So we waited it out at the center.
Earlier in the clear, sunny afternoon this riverbed was dry...
After the rains, we caught the headwaters of the 'flood' coming down while the fellows were harvesting honey... It was pretty trippy to look over and see the riverbed start to fill up and flow. Although, really this wasn't a terribly big river, or a substantial 'flood' we discovered later.

The harvesting took place a little later than was ideal because of the rains, which meant finishing up in the dark.

The goods! Brought to Kara and I still warm and buzzing from the hive... absolutely DELICIOUS!

Once a comb has been filled up with honey, the bees seal it with wax, that turns whitish once it has cured. The sealed combs are then easily carried up to the center where the 'cap' is scraped off with a metal-toothed deal... the comb is then put in a centrifuge where the honey is spun out and collected. And essentially good to go at this point. So cool!

But the excitement of the evening was really only just beginning at that point... It was good and dark by the time they were finishing up the honey harvesting with was no electricity, and just a few torches. We had planned to camp at the center for the night and hike back out in the morning, so as they finished up, Kara and I set about putting up the tents. Word from the mountains (upstream) (and thanks to cell phone communication) was that more rain, potentially a LOT more rain, was on its way. If the river we crossed earlier that day rose in the night we would be be stuck, possibly for a couple of days... So no sooner had we gotten the tents up, than we were told to take them down. Quickly. We needed to get back across the river that night- which after seeing the 'flood' earlier that afternoon, seemed like no joke. So we set about taking DOWN the tents, in the mud... and OWWW!!! Something stung me! AGAIN! As I stomped around, out from my pant leg fell a nice, big, inch-and-a-half-long, shiny, black scorpion! The very sight of the thing sent adrenalin pumping into my veins... Than came over to inspect, confirmed that it was in fact a nice, big, inch-and-a-half-long, shiny, black scorpion, and proceeded to stomp it out of existence. The stings hurt to be sure, but I wasn't exactly writhing in excruciating pain (although I worried I might at any minute begin convulsing and who knows what else...) There was nothing really to do except roll my baggy pant legs UP out of the reach of all creeping, crawling, stinging critters. And continue packing up.

In short order we were all ready: two women carying a freshly chinga-ed, half-plucked chicken for dinner in a sufuria, men carrying the freshly harvested honey, three or four school boys helping with the equiment and the three of us carrying the rest of our what-not. We set off in the dark. No moon, just the little patches of headlamp-lit ground in front of us. My foot still burning.

We reached the edge of the river, stopped and stood perfectly still for a few minutes. Listening. For the roar of flood waters in the distance?! This is MADNESS I think! We're all going to die, surely! We're going to be swept away in the middle of the river. They'll find our bodies washed up way down stream in the morning... But no one hears anything, so we strike out... the water is not much deeper than our knees, but it is moving, and the bottom is uneven... and like I said, it was DARK. and when you're trying to walk through moving water with uneven footing- and NOT panic, and all you see is a patch of swift moving water in front of you... it, well its not so easy, I'll just tell you. But we made it. I'm not sure we were in any serious danger really... but I was mighty glad to reach the other side. Foot still burning.

We got back to the car and the little 'village' on the other side. 9pm. The women who had killed the chicken, set about building a fire in one of their houses nearby to prepare it for our dinner. Which we ate two hours later. After sitting and waiting in the tiny little room attached to the kitchen. My foot still burning, but not any worse. And that chicken must have had a rough go of it too... TOUGH AS NAILS, I tell you! But we were ever-so-grateful for all the time and work put into our being fed at that late hour. Extremely humbling.

It was decided that we should sleep on the floor of a class room at the secondary school just up the road. No sooner do we get there, then the heavens declared the rainy season come. And oh but it RAINED. I was glad the river was behind us.

The next morning we were headed out by 6am; Kara and I had a bus to catch in Eldoret at 1.00pm. My stings ceased burning, but the top of my foot was asleep/tingly numb for the next few days. Interesting stuff, scorpion stings.

At 1, we boareded the Kampala Coach- a great big bus that took us on the first of our many butt-numbing busrides over the next few weeks, We arrived in Kampala at 9pm that night. Kara was whisked off by her her advisee for the next few days, and I enjoyed the lovely, peaceful home of dear family friends, while sorting out our Congo visas and riding Kampala bodas (motorcycle taxis) here and there and back again... In retrospect, I think maybe it was the bodas that were more concern-worthy than that silly river or a few scorpion stings! Ha.

Next stop, Lake Bunyonyi.