[Note to readers: Over the next six weeks, we will be using Tencenturies.com to post commentary on our 2017 trip around the world.]

Background:

A decade ago, John read a book about Genghis Khan; how Khan rose from commoner to ruler and then solidified his vast empire through savvy assimilation of disparate cultures and innovative, peri-modern administrative governance. Somewhere between pages 1 and 352 of that book, a desire to ride across the Mongolian steppes on horseback (perhaps with a pendant fluttering in the wind on a long, garlanded lance) germinated in John’s imagination. There it grew until three years ago it surfaced in one of our periodic “what shall we do next” conversations. At the time, I smiled and give John a vague non-committal, spousal nod. We were mid-way through our Kenyan experience. I secretly assumed that spending two years in one endless arid grassland would dampen John’s desire to venture immediately into another. I was wrong. John pushed for Mongolia in 2016 but the trip was postponed by his mother’s and my father’s failing health. In 2017, Mongolia was back on the schedule.

Continue reading →

This is the text of a talk I gave for The Nature Conservancy earlier this week. Just a warning; it is longer than the average blog post. It seemed appropriate as a kind of wrap up. It takes you from the start to the finish. Happy reading.

John, and I have just returned from two years working with The Northern Rangelands Trust, in Kenya. We’ve been back in the United States for about a month. I have to admit I still feel a bit like Rip Van Winkle and I’m struggling to catch up. In many ways the cultural shock coming home is much worse than it was going.
Continue reading →

We are worried about Bill. A buffalo was killed on the hill in front of Anna’s house, our guest house, last night. We can’t go down there to investigate because buffalo take several days for predators to consume. There are likely lions nearby sleeping off their meal in the tall grass under a tree, passing time until they return for second helpings.

Continue reading →

Not long ago, my brother Alan and I went to my father’s office at UCLA to decide if a Danish sofa that had been there since 1970 was worth saving and to see how much stuff still needed to be cleared out. After 60 years UCLA finally wanted the office back and Dad, who has late-stage Parkinson’s disease, isn’t using it any more. The office was pretty empty. UCLA Archives had hung notes on a shelf and a drawer saying their review was complete. Whatever remained could be tossed. The bottom shelf of one bookcase was packed with decaying binders of Dad’s lecture notes and class material. Other shelves held stacks of manuscript reprints and folders full of mathematical musings. My father’s distinctive writing – confident, slightly slanted script and equations written in bold, black fountain pen – was evident everywhere.

Continue reading →

Once upon a time, when our children were small and our budget even smaller, I was one of Santa’s elves. Around December 1st every year our bedroom door closed, the sewing machine came out and the kids were excluded from entry. “Santa needs help making all of those presents,” we told Marion and Richard. “He’s outsourced a lot of production to mommies and daddies around the world. You can’t go into our bedroom because Mommy is one of Santa’s elves.” The explanation seemed to satisfy the kids and they complied with the “do not enter” policy. Perhaps they thought that peeking would spoil their chances for a good Christmas haul.

The items created in my workshop relied heavily on cheap material and notions sourced from the S. R. Harris Fabric Warehouse where everything was always half price and if you had a special coupon they’d take an additional 20% off your purchase. Stuffed animals, dolls, doll clothes, pajamas, super hero costumes, Cabbage-Patch Kids, sleep-over sleeping bags and new winter coats rolled off my production line. I worked hard and tried to make things look “store-bought.” I was generally pretty pleased with the results and the Christmas tree was never empty.

In all those years I never really wondered what my poor but industrious elf counterparts were creating in other parts of the world. What types of toys did Santa order for the children in the jungles of Central America or Africa’s arid plains? What materials did the parent-elves there use to whip up their Christmas surprises? After 14 months living in northern Kenya, I have a pretty good idea. Santa recycles. African elves don’t have S. R. Harris. They have used plastic bottles, bottle caps, old tires, nails, strings, sticks and stones. They make some pretty cool stuff.

A stick, two large, bright orange bottle caps and two nails make a great push toy not unlike the ubiquitous corn-popper push toy that drives every American parent crazy. An old bicycle tire and a stick will keep a rambunctious boy occupied for hours and two sets of each will create a day of competition. Old rope is plentiful as are expanses of flat dirt, so jump-roping thrives. Kenyan school girls dream of following in the footsteps of the jumpers from Nairobi’s Kibera slums who speed stepped, Double Dutched, freestyled and jump-danced their way to the world jump-roping championships in Orlando.

And then there are the vehicles. Santa’s African elves can do a lot with an empty cooking oil bottle or a pint of whisky whose contents are gone, perhaps consumed in good cheer by the elf himself. A bottle, four bottle caps and four fasteners of any kind, combined together, make a car, a truck, a cart or a bus.

Merry Christmas
Anne and John Knapp