From Castleconnell to Kisii - by Maura McCaffrey       One of the joys of retirement - of which my favourite is not having to get up early - is being able to say yes to unexpected invitations.  So when Sr. Nuala Doherty, my first cousin, asked on her Christmas card if I would like to come to Kenya and do some voluntary work, I immediately said yes.  The seed of excitement I felt in the pit of my stomach was too strong to ignore. After a year and a half of taking life easy and a lot of traveling, I decided it was now time to do something for others.       On February 2nd 2006 I set off for a three month stay in Kenya, armed with far too much luggage (for which British Airways were happy to relieve me of a large sum of money). There were mixed reactions from family and friends – what? no apple tart for three months? (my son), are you not afraid? you are very courageous,  you are daft, what will you think of next? you are adventurous. But my overall feeling was one of gratitude for the blessings I have received in my life and to the sisters who were willing to allow a total stranger into their home.       My first night was spent with the Kisumu community who gave me a great African welcome One of the sisters, Sr. Bernadette Neilon, was born in Our Lady of Lourdes parish where I spent my entire teaching career.   Well, the others were lucky to get a word in with the two of us talking about people and places we both knew!   I felt at home almost as soon as I left home. Onwards next day to Kisii where Nuala drove on the most pot-holed roads I've ever seen with a lot worse to come. If you ever drive on the road from Kilgoris to Kisii you will know what I mean. My regard for Nuala as a driver and my respect for the old white Nissan Sunny grew.  After a warm and friendly welcome I was shown to my room in the convent.           I don’t mind admitting I was apprehensive about living in a convent for three whole months - would I find the time long? Would I have to get up at the same time as the sisters at 5.30am? Would there be lots of rules to keep? It didn’t take long for all those fears to be allayed.  Living with the community in Nyabururu has been one of the most pleasant and rewarding events of my life. The days weren’t long enough.  The only day I got up early was Sunday for Mass at 6.30 am. Even though it lasted two hours I loved the singing, dancing, drumming and active participation of the congregation. The only rule was the bell for lunch and since I have cooked for as long as I can remember (except Mothers’ days and birthdays) it was music to my ears.       The warmth and friendliness of the people I met in Kenya will stay with me always.  Walking is my hobby so I did a lot of it. I loved the waves and firm handshakes from the older people who called me Sista, the giggles of teenage girls and most of all the little ones who would scream with delight at seeing a msungu (white person) and run up to shake my hand. The locals in Kisii couldn’t make any sense of my fast walking at all. Being helpful they would ask "where from?'' and I'd answer Nyabururu. Then they would say "where to ?" and I’d say Nyabururu  One girl told me that they thought I was a bit mad in my head.   Once when we visited the Maragat community Nuala and I went for a drive to Baringo Lake. On our way back I asked her to drop me off about six kilometers from Maragat so as to get a good walk. Some local women saw me get out of the car and Nuala drive off. They sent two young boys after me (one with a bicycle) to assist me. I had a hard time trying to convince them that I was not abandoned by Nuala. Maybe the women believed I was the first wife being chased away by the new younger model!!!       One Sunday we visited a local family and as we were walking home we saw a circle of women standing in a field. One came to greet us and I asked if they were praying. She told us they had just helped a young woman give birth to twins. The purpose of the circle was to keep away curious youngsters. We were invited into the circle. The mother Mellen, lay shivering on a large plastic bag, looking weak and vulnerable. Beside her on another bag and completely covered by a blanket were her tiny girls. The blanket was used to keep off the flies that were attracted to the amniotic fluid still covering the babies. Nuala said a prayer and one of the women who spoke English asked if we would give the twins our names. It moved me to tears. To Nuala it was an example of how well the community supported and took care of Mellen and her babies. To me, who has been privileged to give birth in a hospital surrounded by modern facilities and expert staff it was deeply disturbing.  For the next few days I was anxious.  The following Sunday we visited the family and met a smiling Mellen, a proud father and two very healthy twin girls called Nuala and Maura (see below!).         The task of weekly shopping for the community falls to Sr. Monicah. I asked if I could come with her to the market in Daraja mBili. It was a shopping experience unlike any other. I have never seen so many people in such close proximity selling just about everything from a needle to a haystack. Many didn’t even have a stall, only a plastic sheet on the ground. It was a hive of disorganised and frenzied activity. I became an expert at ducking my head in order to avoid a wallop from a bag of maize, planks of timber or sheets of galvanise carried by people on their heads.  One man carried a goat around his neck. Sr. Monicah has turned shopping into a fine art.  I watched her choose pineapples with the keen eye of a surgeon (they all looked the same to me), handling, piercing, examining, scrutinising at length before finally, and much to the relief of the seller, making her decision to buy. When it came to tasting, I have to hand it to her, the painstaking and meticulous searching pays off.   Next stop is Kisii town to the butchery - now that is something else! Being used to large displays of choice cuts laid out artistically by my local butcher on spotless stainless steel trays, it horrified me to see animals eyes, ears, noses, teeth, tails and entrails totally covered in flies. If I was ever to turn vegetarian it would have happened that day. Yet the scrumptious fillet of beef cooked by Doyle (named after an Irish priest) was as good as any I ever tasted. Needless to add I wasn't offering to accompany Monicah doing the shopping too often.       The real highlight of my visit to Kisii was Class 7 West, the lovely pupils I taught in St. Joseph's Primary School. They ranged in age from eleven to eighteen some of whom only started school in 2002 when free primary education was introduced. I came to love every one of them. I have never been a teacher to religiously follow a text book and used to give them little competitions in English to make learning fun. When my English class ended it was break-time, so I expected them to run out the door when the bell rang. No one moved. They continued writing in their copies I said stop working, it is playtime. Still no one moved. In thirty-five years teaching in Ireland I never once met a child who wanted to work at play-time.   The day I bought them a copy they gave me a clap. When I brought a large container of ice-cold water to give them a drink they cheered.  None of them have electricity, so it was the first time they tasted very cold water. After correcting their exercises I would use a plastic supermarket bag to carry the copies. They would all beg me for the bag to use as a school-bag. On my last day with them we had a party.  When they sang "Molly Malone" accompanied by Sr. Rosemary on the convent drum it was hard to hold back the tears.  My farewell gift to each one was a school-bag.  Their shrieks of delight nearly lifted the roof. Unlike children at home who expect so much, these lovely pupils in St. Joseph's were grateful for so little.  As I walked to the staffroom that day I met a boy from another class who said, "what about us?" It broke my heart.       It feels good to be back home with my loved ones, but a part of me is still in Kisii. It is my hope to raise money to try and sponsor as many children as I can through secondary school. Offers to help are already coming from my own children, neighbours, friends and even my old school. I am very grateful to Nuala for the invitation to Kenya and especially to Sisters Margaret, Monicah and Rosemary who took me into their hearts as well as their home. Many are asking if I will go back and I say what I said to my pupils in 7 West in Kiswahili - Labda, siku moja nita rudi, Mumgu akipenda (Maybe, one day I will return, God willing).