AfricanKelli

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A friend from Botswana recently visited and brought me a little package of gourd seeds to plant in my garden. Wasn’t that thoughtful of him? I planted these with the giant pumpkins from two weeks ago and the garden is going bananas. The heat + lots of water + a roommate who truly loves being among his green “babies” = a garden that is looking pretty darn good for August in Phoenix.

If I haven’t reminded you in the last 20 minutes, it is disgustingly hot and miserable here right now. There is your reminder. I’ll be back tomorrow.

In the meantime, if you wouldn’t mind — I have a cause for you to support. My dear friend Shelley and her husband Alessandro — two of the kindest people on earth — are trying to raise funds for those left homeless after the earthquake in Italy earlier this year.

Shelley writes: The city of Lucoli, the largest municipality in Abruzzo for territory, was the epicenter of the April 6 quake. Now all the inhabitants (most of whom are elderly) are living in campgrounds located up to 5,000 feet in altitude. With your help it will be possible for them to have a field hospital and the assistance they need, and to save the beautiful village of Lucoli and its monuments dating from the Middle Ages.

To learn more about the earthquake in Lucoli and to make a donation, please visit

www.reliefforthequake.com

By donating even just 1 dollar you will make it possible!

Thank you friends,

K

The Japanese have a tradition called teikei — which means partnership, or cooperation. They have teikei farms where the consumer and the farmer meet; these are farmer’s markets of sort, but it is important for Japaense teikei that the food have a “face.”

The only time I’ve had such an opportunity was in Africa. The markets are a riot of color, textures and scents. In Mozambique, pyramids of rust orange tomatoes teeter next the bundles of tiny citrus and stacks of suspicious greens. Rice dries on ivory sacks, their World Food Programme emblems fading in the tropical sun. In Cameroon, dried fish hang from twine next to bunches of bananas — golden and sweet unlike anything Chiquita could bring to the US. In Malawi, mangoes and papaya compete for the coral crown next to piles of freshly picked tea leaves greener than any emerald.

This week we’ll break ground on 18 vegetable plots in the community garden. Some 15 will go to refugee families nearby who want a chance to work the land. The other three will be distributed to congregants and interested community members. I’m certain I’ll have a spot in there for some spring eggplant and tomatoes. The heat is quickly approaching, so we must get these seeds in the ground sooner than later. The chickens will fill the coop come October. By December, I am hoping the fruit trees will be blooming, the compost bin full, the eggs freshly delivered to the farmer’s market and the vegetables arriving in bounty.

“In a world of growing population and shrinking fertile land, CSAs, even those with relatively unskilled farmers, have proven their capacity to produce enough food for 20 families or more on each acre. As CSA farms mature, their production becomes more intensive, whether on one farm or on several associated farms. Where industrialized agriculture seems to have passed its peak of productivity, and more chemicals no longer means greater output, biological farms with community support offer long-term prospects of unlimited promise.”

While the community garden is far from a CSA, it is a step toward community agriculture. For those interested in developing a similar project, I’ve really enjoyed reading, “Sharing the Harvest.” From this book, I’ve found a “farmer’s pledge” I am going to ask all the participants to sign before taking over their plots. It’s lengthy, but in sum — we will treat every person and every bit of soil with respect, including feeding the hungry first and never using chemicals on the land.

“The goal ever receds from us. Salvation lies in the effort, not in the attainment. Full effort is full victory.” — Mahatma Gandhi

Fingers crossed,

K

P.S. I had coffee yesterday with my friend Dave, who commented that I NEVER mention him on here and that I’m spending too much time in the garden.

With good reason. The plants don’t complain.

My father jokes that if there is an African in the room, I can find and befriend him in no time flat. It seems whereever I go, I can find a friendly African face. This weekend, for example, I met Abdullah at the Scottsdale Farmer’s Market. If you are guessing that he was the only African in sight — you’d be right. The market is a hubub of pricey (while lovely) organic eats, crafts, cupcakes and Sweet Republic ice cream.

Abdullah imports these baskets from his friends in Ghana and sells them for $30. I’m thinking they’d make pretty stellar Easter baskets. I’ve got to get back there to buy a few before the holiday arrives. It would be sweet to fill one of these with baked goods for my grandparents or books for a sick friend. I’m on a basket kick of late. I’d love a couple of these to use for shopping at the market too!

Or, you know, to carry Toto on my bike.

~K

Gray is one of Mini’s sons and one of my very favorite people on earth. I can’t tell you how much I adore her kids. This one in particular always seems to make me laugh. Today, he says that if you have an extra second, you should check out Mozi Esme’s site. She published one of my essays on Mozambique.

~kelli

When I was little, I had this awesome mint green Hello Kitty sticker book. The pages were slick so you could add stickers and then later put them on other pages, or your notebooks, little brother, etc. I loved that thing and would regularly use it to add a bit of flare to penpal envelopes. I should have known then that I’d have a somewhat ridiculous life-long passion for correspondence.

When Tiffany sent me this idea for her daughter Rory, I knew it was just a matter of time until I passed on the joy of a good, old fashioned sticker book. Last night I whipped two of these up — one for little Rory and one for sweet Persephone. Cheap, easy holiday gifts. I can’t wait to make these for my own kids one day!

Anyone want a tutorial? These take about 25 minutes to sew and are a great way to share that odd collection of stickers you may have hanging around.

~K

BEFORE: And the commotion begins. I took on a bit too much for this dinner; from beginning to end, it took about six hours to prepare and clean up afterward.

Aztec squash soup

Turkey chile

Carbs o’ plenty

AFTER: phew.

Last night’s communiy dinner menu included: crockpot turkey chile, aztec squash soup, buttermilk biscuits, cornbread, carrot cake, brownies, homemade hot chocolate with candy canes and marshmallows and a partridge in a pear tree. The prep for this dinner took quite a bit of time, but it was well worth it. There was plenty of food, lots of cheer and even a dozen friends who stuck around to go caroling afterward. We walked through the neighborhood singing a variety of tunes completely off key and completely enjoying ourselves. We agreed the night was well worth embarrassing ourselves when we came to a house where an older gentleman opened the door and his wife, bald from what we guessed was cancer treatment, cheered us on.

We spread a bit of cheer and walked off those calories in the process. I had a lot of fun and am really thankful for my friends. I realized last night as we tromped through the street that I have some incredible people in my life, willing to do the ridiculous to make me happy.

Dear President Mugabe,

I know we haven’t seen eye to eye in the past. I can’t understand how you are still in power, how you’ve ruled Zimbabwe my entire life. I don’t know why your country, once called the breadbasket of Africa, has such a life-threatening issue with hunger today. I really can’t comprehend how a nation so rich — with some of the best universities, hospitals and businesses in sub-Saharan Africa — could crumple in such a short period of time.

Today, it’s cholera. You’ve pushed your people around for more than 20 years. You’ve run out the white Zimbabweans, stolen their land, killed those who refused to leave and ruined your economy in the process. You’ve created one of the most impressive brain drains in the history of man. I spoke with a friend from Zimbabwe last weekend. He teaches at the seminary in Harare. He makes $50 a month, which doesn’t cover the cost of going to and from the school daily.* The economy you’ve led has the highest inflation internationally — at something absurd like 1000%. How can that be? How can money be printed with an expiration date? A billion dollar bill? Really Bob, even you can do better.

You have single-handedly ruined this nation and the world has stood by, watching with a lazy, voyeuristic eye. I’m not sure which is the bigger disgrace. News is today that your reign of cruelty may soon be coming to an end — only because once again your people are suffering. Today it is cholera, as if the hunger, soaring HIV rates and severe poverty weren’t enough. While the world watches the tragedies and violence in India, Pakistan and the Middle East, I’ll continue screaming about Zimbabwe. This is nothing short of an African holocaust that the world is once again ignoring. We’ve learned nothing from Rwanda, Sudan or Somalia.

Mr. Mugabe, I am a person who doesn’t hate. I try to find something good in everyone. But for the life of me, I simply cannot see the silver lining of you breathing another breath.

May your people rise and may the world finally respond. May Zimbabwe once return to its state of grace and honor as a fruitful, healthy and beautiful country. May peace reign in Zim!

~Kelli

*{I begged him to let me come work in Harare next summer and he agreed. If I am allowed in the country, there is an opportunity for me to work in one of the many orphanages.}

When I was in Malawi this summer, I bought two of these arks filled with animals (and a Noah/Noah’s wife), for Christmas presents. I gave one to my mom and the other to my Grandma Max on Thanksgiving. I knew they’d want to put them out with their nativities. They were pretty thrilled — especially my mama. She is an animal nut and quickly went through each of the pairs to examine their features.

I was so glad they liked these. They were a pain to haul home and make sure they weren’t broken in transit. Also, Malawian carvers in this area have a tendency to smoke pot while they work, making the drug dogs at the airports go nuts. Several of the people I was traveling with had lost items to customs from this and warned me. Thankfully, Noah worked his wonders and we made it home without incident.

I hope your holiday prep is going well! I’ve got my little tree and decorations in place and the bulk of my Christmas cards were mailed yesterday. I’m going to start wrapping this weekend. I want my home to be festive for next week’s community dinner.

~K

What to give a man who has everything? Well, if he is your African Travel Saint, how about a wall hanging? My sweet friend has several homes that are decorated with items gathered from his 30 trips to Africa over the years. I figured a wall hanging celebrating his favorite continent was in order.

It took a while to put this together, but I am pleased. I needed a refresher on binding, but thankfully Quilting 101 is on my bookshelf. I’m sending this off to Spence later this week with a Blurb book I made of photos celebrating our trip. I think he’ll dig it. Regardless, it was challenging and fun to create.

Maybe I need one of these…

~K

So, I’m thinking this headache I’ve had behind my eyes for the last five days is more than just jet lag. I’ve spent more time during the last week under the covers pinching my eyes shut and praying for relief than I have in years. And I’m pretty sure that time I had the flu. This is just this incredibly annoying pain that refuses to leave, regardless of the copious amounts of aspirin I’ve been inhaling.
Could be the change in weather (official outlook in Phoenix: RIDICULOUSLY HOT). Could be I’ve finally pried myself free of the caffeine demons that have kept me hostage for years (haven’t had any in 8 days, but who’s counting?) Could be Africa trying to tell me to get my butt back home. She misses me. I’m thinking its the latter. Regardless, this is about as whiny as I get and I’m hot. HOT! And my head hurts. And I am really missing being in Africa. (And am trying not to be too worried that maybe one of those stupid tsetse fly bites I got from the elephant safari could mean sleeping sickness. This would explain the headaches.)
Last photos of the adventure:

Check out the toy car this kid fashioned out of trash. Tell me these kids couldn’t kick your student of the month’s butt in ingenuity? Yeah. Pretty sure they could kick my butt too.

Seriously awesome.

Who needs a JoAnn’s for supplies? Not these two village tailors. They put whatever they’ve got to great use, including these sewing machine relics.

And they are pumped by foot.

Gratuitous pretty kid photo. How beautiful are these girls? Stunning!

These guys too!

Thanks again for cheering me along through this adventure. Tomorrow I resume my domestic blogging duties that have been seriously neglected for the last two months. In the meantime, I’ve got a date with some Excedrin and a big bottle of ice water.

Cheers,
K