Summer is nearing its last days, leaves are beginning to drift from oak trees outside my house, and children are returning to school. I have been writing poetry with author and teacher, Alison Luterman, who is inspiring me to step beyond what I know. I also took a one-day collage class with Lindsay Whiting, whose intelligence and talent helped me birth a piece I titled, GO.
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Below are my writings and poetry. Feel free to come back often as I will be updating this area frequently.
I Am Exactly Where I Am Destined To Be
Martin Luther King, Jr. Conference at Stanford
Dr. Vincent Harding, longtime associate of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., speechwriter, activist, and currently Professor of Religion and Social Transformation at Illiff School of Theology in Denver, Colorado, was one of the panelists at a two-day conference at Stanford University July 16th and 17th.
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To Live with Harmony
I spent three days in New York watching and editing footage of my trip to Daraja Academy, re-living Kenya’s immense sky, hearing the sweet music of the girls’ voices speaking about their education and laughing together; it was almost like being there again. I remembered the Masaai man lying down in the tall grass, arms above his head, his herd of cattle grazing nearby.
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Last Day in Kenya
“I come from Kibera, an area in Nairobi. None of my friends are able to attend secondary school and they tell me ‘good luck’ and wish me hope.”
These are the words of one of the Daraja girls I interviewed – three from Form 2 – in their second year of secondary school, two who had just arrived on campus. Their stories are similar. Siblings are unable to attend high school, like friends, because of the expense. The opportunity to receive an education at Daraja Academy is something each girl is
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From Kenya
March 1, 2010
The Daraja Academy campus sits on 60 acres of savannah land dotted with acacia trees, radiant orange and burgundy bougainvillea, tall cacti, and the most luscious red earth underneath. After bumping along rutted dirt roads from the town of Nanyuki, through Naibor, we reached Dol Dol Road and entered the white painted gate of the campus. A bit delirious from the long flight, it seemed that Jason and Jenni, the directors, glowed as they waved us into their arms. “Karibu! Welcome to Daraja!”
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Pilgrimage
A dream of mine has been to assist girls in receiving advanced educations to help them assume roles of leadership in the world. More than sending money for scholarships or school supplies, I have longed to have a connection with the young women served by my foundation, Do A Little. Today I leave for Kenya to visit Daraja Academy. Twenty-six new students will move on campus later this week, joining twenty-six girls who have studied at Daraja for one year. The science teacher said, “There are mountains we will climb together,”
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Bridge to Happiness
It is a marvelous new year, one that brings us to the end of another decade. I remember New Year’s Eve 2000 –the major media hysteria about all that could possibly go wrong as computers changed centuries, how some people hoarded water and food; I was in Las Vegas with my family, thinking about the stars and sky outside our hotel.
In this new decade, my commitment to balance the access to education, justice, and human rights for girls and women remains my focal point.
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Plastic Pollution
Last night, I was given a large, ocean-blue glass marble by an adorable 8-year-old girl and her wide-eyed 5-year-old brother. The significance of the gift was to take the information that was being discussed in their home – about plastic pollution – and pass the facts on to others, even by giving the marble away.
A group of about twenty scientists, artists, environmentalists, and concerned philanthropists was invited to a dinner by the Plastic Pollution
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The Finish Party
January 2005, a group of women writers convened in a generous circle to support one another in finishing manuscripts for publication. Award-winning short story author, ZZ Packer (Drinking Coffee Elsewhere), invited us to her home and cooked a sumptuous Southern lunch as we gathered around her kitchen table discussing our writing projects and what we hoped to achieve by committing to meeting once a month to critique each other’s work. I was newly published (Space Between the Stars: My Journey to an Open Heart),
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Another Address
I erased another address of one of my children today, changed her contact info in my iPhone, and as I wrote in her new street and city, thought about my mother’s tattered address book. Mom didn’t bother to write in pencil, so she wrote our new addresses in ink, in her miniature handwriting, above or on the side of the old ones, every inch of the page covered with details of the new places we lived. My sister and I would marvel and laugh whenever we saw how many times we had moved after we left our parent’s home.
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