Kids show off their favorite books at The Hope Library, Kibera slum, Nairobi, Kenya

[NAIROBI, Kenya] With a little bit of trepidation I made my fifth visit or so to this city’s Kibera slum – a “city within a city” of an estimated 600,000 to 1 million residents living in very challenging conditions – to check up on the state of The Hope Library. The project was started as an audacious dream after my first visit here, a casual daylong tour by a resident (Reuters photographer Noor Khamis) who introduced me to many facets of life here, including some folks who made it know how great was their desire for books, and how dire was their need. (Read original blog post of that encounter here.)

Sure, I’d returned six months ago and seen a church classroom full of kids enjoying our first shipment of books (about 1,200 at that time), but they were mostly picture books and it was a bit of a photo op. The books were kept in a small corner of a temporary space in the St. George Orthodox Church, but the gratitude of the adults and the enthusiasm of the kids pushed me on, to months of cajoling books out of my friends, as well as donations for shipping and other needs.

So began Phase II. In all, I estimate my social network (mainly via Facebook) accounted for about 2,000 more books (carefully selected to feature categories of most value to this community), as well as donations of about $2,750, to help defray shipping and other costs. (Almost all the books were donated, but it’s extremely expensive to ship them. I lucked out by connecting with American Friends of Kenya, and for a much reduced cost, piggybacked many boxes on a shipping container they successfully sent from the States to Kenya last month.)

I couldn’t thank my Facebook crowd enough when I visited today and saw that the enthusiasm for, and commitment toward, The Hope Library had multiplied by 100 in the past six months. I interviewed both kids and adults about the impact of reading specific books on their lives (video to come later), and enjoyed seeing the adults read to the kids in a program meant to foster not only literacy but stronger parent-child ties as well.

Other highlights of the day:

• the distribution of super cool soccer jerseys, with customized design donated by Antonio Garcia of GoodNightTV.com in Chicago.
• a special hot lunch (with meat!) cooked behind the church by women and men of the community, for about 100 kids. Facebook friends also made this possible. I was told that often, the kids are lucky to get one such hot meal a week.
• brainstorming and strategic planning with the adult steering committee for entering Phase III: the acquisition of permanent land and structure to house the library collection, as well as programs of the affiliated Nicofeli Youth and Kids Clubs.

While enthusiasm about their new library (the first in Kibera!) is running high, the needs here remain great.

The coaches of the boys soccer team expressed great gratitude for the new jerseys, and now of course are keen on getting other luxuries, like … proper shoes (about $12 a pair). A medical kit (maybe $10-15) for their inevitable injuries. Modest funds for transportation to and from matches with other teams in the region (about $12 each way).

The library, as stated, needs a permanent facility, with proper shelves to encourage browsing, and preferably chairs and nice lighting to allow relaxed reading (this isn’t really possible in most residences here, simple huts or shacks that often house 6 family members in a 12×12 ft. area). Eventually, computers with web support will connect them to the outside world, but that takes money as well. A bit of a connection has been made with a local trust, but a firm commitment has not yet been made.

Osir Caleb, Evans Otira,  and other leaders of the kids club and library are diligent in their record-keeping, showing me a growing stack of formal applications submitted to the Kenyan government, NGOs (non-government organizations), and other aid agencies, almost all marked REJECTED, in hopes of getting on more stable footing. But they have made some very modest gains, have garnered some very cool publicity (see this article from Nairobi’s Standard newspaper), and they will get there. As I counseled them: Persistence paid off. I shared my own story of doggedly pursuing internships and college aid many years ago; for every 100 letters of application I submitted, probably 99 were sent back with a “sorry, but good luck” sort of letter. But when the 1 of 100 comes in, BINGO, you are in business!

If you have an interest in contributing to any of the above needs for the library, kids club or soccer program (perhaps have your child’s school soccer team sponsor Nicofeli’s?) please email me at ron@artwithinreason.com and I will fill you in on how you can help. (At the moment all book acquisitions are on HOLD – they have plenty of great stuff to choose from, with the collection at 3,200 titles or more, and need to get on solid footing with their space needs before taking on additional titles. Stay tuned to hear if we are accepting donations in the future.)

To see other photos from this visit, see this photo album at Facebook. To learn more about the origins of Hope Library, and earlier fundraising efforts, go here.

Thanks again to all my Facebook friends (and some Facebook strangers!), as well as many others, who helped bring this crazy scheme this far! Stay tuned to this blog for updates in the future.

Sofitel hotel … fluffy bed (maybe a little too much – bad back in the morning) … concrete wall shuts out the outside world … impossible wi-fi (how on earth do these people blog?) … amazingly weak orange juice … large in-room safe … power goes out (unbelievably inadequate power grid, thanks to corruption of previous regime – everyone’s on generators) … locals along the road balancing stuff on their head like nobody’s business … a client who wants to change the course of an abused nation … nighttime visit to funky boutique hotel/arts colony, wondering, should we stay here on the next visit? visiting Exxon consultants recommend it … sharing of gigantic Star beer (favored here but from Ghana) … chatting about local culture and challenges with the literati, including Kiszo, a Nollywood film producer (their version of Hollywood, or Bollywood, and apparently, huge) who has just returned from time in L.A. and Atlanta … we meet a local musician, who claims to be an inventor of a unique model of square bongos as well as the reincarnation of my colleague Mario … picked up daily and driven to work by client’s drivers, served lunch and picked-up-after by his man-servants – he calls them “stewards” – I’m thinking I need someone like this at home (Erich’s reading this, thinking, “been there, done that”) … dinner companion tells an exotic tale of juju (voodoo), a politician’s naked wife and a severed head on the kitchen floor … afternoon driving tour of the three islands, viewing structures that once were obviously proud and at least middle class, driven to ruin by political anarchy … nice long swim in the hotel pool which is quite nice, like bathwater … we visit the office of the prospective editor, and view a terrific collection of work by a local artist … a nice contrast to some of the scenery on the way there …  fantastic, elegant cocktail party held by our clients, with eclectic mix of piano players, singers, movers and shakers from Lagos and beyond …

(Watch this space for later observations on Lagos, as several visits are scheduled in the coming months …) 

[Kibera slum, Nairobi, Kenya] My second visit to Kibera, May 4 (posting this entry after mulling it over for a week). Being taken in a little deeper this time. I had been to a “drinking den” on my first visit, but my shepherd this time, Osir, takes me to another one (despite my stated focus on reconnecting with some artists I met earlier).

The half-dozen gatherees are socializing, and drinking changaa, the traditional homemade liquor of the Luo people, in a shack with a dirt floor, cardboard wall. A child who might be 2 years old sleeps nearby. (She’s at the far right in the photo below- maybe that’s her pink backpack on the wall above her?) Another boy, about 8, refills the liquor jug when needed, if mom (the proprietress) is otherwise busy.

It’s a funny dance, having the rare mzungu (white guy) in their midst. Do they want to have their photo taken, or not? Do they want to chat, or not? Sometimes it’s both at once.

One guy (in the hat, on the right, in photo above) strikes up a chat. “I love a good book. Do you like to read?” Nonchalantly, he tosses at me his current read – or rather, the ripped-out middle third. The front portion of The Parcifal Mosaic has been passed on to its lucky next reader; the final third, well, he’ll have to get to that when he can find out who has it. It’s all about sharing when it comes to books in Kibera, if it comes to that at all.

“Ludlum does the best stories, but only if you can deal with extremely complex characters. Man, he does characters like nobody can.” The others chime in enthusiastically; maybe they are reading the first third, or the last. I tell them I read 3 or 4 Ludlum stories in high school, not so much since. (Can’t focus on all those characters.)

These guys are readers. Osir, too. When I later mention some books I was reading on my travels, he asks, “do you have any that I might like?” (I wasn’t sure if either of the titles on my nightstand at the Holiday Inn would quite make the best slum reading: Briefing for a Decent into Hell, and Things Fall Apart. People, you cannot make this stuff up.)

Osir tells me Kibera has no library. (No surprise, there’s barely running water, primarily to community pumps.) The adults, with plenty of time on their hands, are more than eager to read, it’s obvious; books for kids in school are hard enough to come by, let alone those for the pure joy of reading.

I think, how sad these kids might not get to read, for example, books like Miss Pickerell on the Moon, one title that oddly sticks in my head as having provided joy and distraction in 4th grade. Sure, it’s the ludicrous, implausible tale of a grandmother exploring interplanetary travel, but who more than these kids needs the message that improbable dreams can come true?

Let me cut to the chase here – it’s midnight and I wake at 4 for an early flight. If you live in Chicago, and you have spare paperbacks lying around the house, especially kids books, let me have ‘em. I’ll be coming back later this year for work, and can load up a big suitcase and share them with folks in the slum (perhaps via Osir’s church or something). I know the argument of some people that you should go through proper channels and let the Red Cross or Unicef deal with this stuff, but obviously, it’s not quite happening. At the end of the day (and it certainly is that here), you gotta believe that small individual acts have a place, too, and can sometimes make a difference.

Hmmm … speaking of Kenyan kids with a dream, here’s an idea – bulk purchase of Audacity of Hope, anyone?

[Decoration inside home in Kibera slum, Kenya]

My concerns (randomly): Has someone watered the plants back home? Will I owe any fines for late fees from bills stacking up? Am I getting fat from too much time at the breakfast buffet? How much of an ordeal will getting my Nigerian visa be? Do I have the time/energy to work up and submit that weeks-overdue invoice? Where’s the number for the florist in LaPorte? My laptop mouse is dying. My driver’s late – again. Can I possibly continue to wear the six same shirts and four pairs of pants for another 12 days? I just realized, I’ve hardly drank any milk (normally a staple for me) for six weeks.

Osir’s concerns (observed/overheard): How to pay the 800 shillings rent per month ($12 U.S.) How to send the oldest kids to their first year of private school (1000 shillings per month). Sunday dinner: a pot of boiled navy beans, leftover from a February donation by the Red Cross following the post-election violence. (The cost of meat was prohibitive even before the current runaway inflation on food prices.) Pre-paid credit on the cheap mobile Safaricom phone is getting low. Health care for six young kids, including the one who caught malaria a short time back. The “front door” lock is actually a latch, which is actually missing. Damn that glass of moonshine tasted nasty.

Just some food – and moonshine and technology and politics and room & board – for thought. Watch this space for more on Kibera after I wrap my brain around it a little more.

Links: Previous photo album of Kibera scenics. Previous album of Kibera’s kids.

Day 1, Sunday, April 27:
10:15 a.m. I’m on a prolonged business gig in Nairobi, Kenya, Africa. Client has requested my presence at a 3-day executive retreat. Expecting a 2 p.m. departure, I check messages in the morning only to find that what I thought would be a 2 p.m. departure is now 10:30 a.m. Surprise! Frantic packing.
10:45: Clients show up (a bit late, thank God – on “Kenyan time”). A bus with a duct-taped window shows up in my hotel driveway. I ride shotgun with Andrew, an assistant photo editor who has just moved here from Mombasa. Behind me is Jane, mother hen of the whole crew. Off we go, headed six hours deep into the Great Rift Valley of Africa!12 pm: About an hour after leaving Nairobi, we pull off to the side of the road. We have gone up to about 8,000 feet in elevation, and come to a lookout point with stunning views of the Great Rift Valley. This is an amazing feature of East Africa with fertile valley, lakes, and soaring hills on each side.
12:45 p.m. We pass by huge settlement camps, current residences for Kenya’s IDPs (internally displaced persons). This is the U.S. lingo for those folks who were forced from their homes in the post-election violence at the start of 2008; much of the distress occurred in Great Rift Valley. (It is said that 1,200 people were killed across Kenya; the paper reported this week that 780 bodies went unclaimed and are to be buried in a mass grave.) For a variety of reasons, the IDPs still have not been resettled, and are enduring ongoing hardships like bad rains and failing shelters.
1 pm: We stop for lunch in Kikopay, at a small community of roadside huts that apparently cater to tourists and villagers. Green View Butchery is apparently the place to visit for the most freshly slaughtered (then roasted) goat. We eat with our hands, and it’s what I call a National Geographic moment. Not for the squeamish.
1:05 pm: I recall that Great Rift Valley is also home to Rift Valley Fever, a fatal disease afflicting lifestock that drove even many Kenyans to vegetarianism. Some who are reading this may know of my reputation as a picky eater; I’ve never been fond of gristle, fat, or rare meat and this stop was a test. Not since my famous horse-meat adventure of Singapore have my appetite and my social skills been so tested. My hosts are probably the most gracious I’ve had in 15+ years of consulting, so I’m concerned not to offend them.

2 pm: In the middle of nowhere, the bus stops. Kipkoech, one of the client crew, was raised near here and his mother still lives in one of the villages. (The father lives across the way, with one of his younger wives.) Everyone gets off the bus for a stretch. Shockingly, out of nowhere, mama appears for an impromptu family reunion. Smiles and warm handshakes and photo ops all around! This crew likes photo ops so I am fitting in well.
2:10 p.m. We pass a roadside sign that says “you are now crossing the Equator,” and it dawns on me that Kenya is near the Equator. (I usually don’t spend much time researching the geography of where I go, because I find it a little unsettling. Also, I figure, the important stuff will reveal itself in time – as in, proximity to Equator. Knowing in advance might have spoiled the surprise.) You can see a map of the region here.

A photo op is promised on the return trip, but does not materialize. I can confirm that it can be quite hot near the Equator.
5 pm We arrive at Lake Bogoria Hotel. I am told it is owned by Daniel arap Moi, the former president of Kenya, who hails from the region. (Google or Wiki him – I’m not getting into it here for political reasons.) Monkeys crowd the front lawn. We drop off our bags, take a quick tour of one of the pools which is fed by a hot spring (“constant 36 degrees Celsius”) and then hop back on the hot bus for a sunset drive through the nearby park which features geysers and hot springs. In the States this would be a national park for sure, but here there are no paved roads, and it seems like someone’s geologically interesting but unkempt back yard, if you had zebras and gazelles in your back yard.
5:45 p.m. The sun is setting and the park is near closing but we pay our entrance fee (about $1.40 per person) and drive into the park. We see some wildlife and on the shore of the lake are a million flamingos – not a great Kodak moment because it was dusk and I only had the cheapie camera, but still, cool to experience. After 20 minutes or so we make it to the hot springs area. We get out. Photo ops commence. Clients boil eggs in the steaming cauldrons of doom. There are no walkways or guardrails as in U.S. parks, thankfully, no one gets hurt. We get back in the bus and go back to the hotel for an uneventful dinner. I check into my “cottage,” am simultaneously horrified yet comforted by mosquito netting over the bed. I take my malaria pill, and have hardly any trouble falling asleep.

Day 2, Monday:
9 am-5 pm: Yes, people, we are here to work! My clients have scheduled this retreat for managers to plan for the future. That’s all I can say or I’d have to kill you. I am scheduled to speak on the morning of Day 3, so I have to pay attention! And there’s no Powerpoint to rely on so I have to really get my act together.
6 p.m. The hotel sponsors a “bush dinner” for us. Yeah, more roasted goat. Actually the goat seems much better this time around. (Memo to self: bring Wet-Naps© on all future consulting junkets.) I pass on the fermented milk (moonshine) – lest anyone think I’m a wussy about such things, please note I did drink bootlegged vodka made in the Kibera slum in Nairobi. Despite recovering from bronchitis I have a beer. I deserve it! A coriander chicken dish turns out to be quite good. A highlight of dinner is the sudden appearance after dark of a troop of local villagers, dancing and singing their hearts out in (I guess) colorful native garb. They force many of us to dance with them which – even though this is not quite my thing – is actually somewhat fun. Photos were taken of me getting down with the tribe but oddly they have yet to surface. Will I be blackmailed by my own client? Stay tuned.
9:30 pm. I brave a gauntlet of frisky monkeys to return to my room. One woman in my client group revealed that she once visited a local park in Nairobi and a monkey jumped on her back and would not let go. So from here on, I’m nervous about the monkeys.

Day 3: Tuesday
6 a.m. I make a point to set the alarm to wake up and view the sunrise. How often will I get to see sunrise over the Rift Valley mountains? There’s a cool lookout tower thing not far from my room so I head up there. Decent photos here, memorable morning clouds and light starting to hit the hills.
6:15 a.m. I head to the hot springs pool for a dip. I arrive to find one of our team just leaving, and about 100 monkeys, going nuts with the remnants of last night’s party. It’s ridiculous! Beer bottles being tossed about, monkeys in the garbage can. I’m wondering, do monkeys hate water? If I put down my t-shirt and camera, will they take them? The venture is fraught with anxiety, but I take a swim, the water is really nice and warm and it’s a good way to start the day. On the way out, I shake my fist (holding camera) at the bold lead monkey and he takes it as a potential offering of fruit or something, and takes a few step toward me – extra rude and bold monkey! I scurry back to the room, unmolested.
7:30 a.m. Breakfast. Highlight: porridge, which I am later told is fermented. This would explain the lime sort of taste. Hmmm … looks like Cocoa Wheats, but isn’t. Another African culinary adventure. Also, I’m becoming addicted to passion juice even though I suspect this is out of a can.
8:30 a.m. The show goes on – I speak to the clients for about an hour. They seem to buy it. The A/C is sort of making my bronchitis act up and I start obsessing about six hours on a hot bus back to Nairobi, but also fantasizing about a hot shower back at the Holiday Inn.
11:30 a.m. Quick lunch, a photo op with a gigantic ant hill (after checking for presence of ants) and with a ferocious lion, and we are off on the road. We pass by the Equator again, then stop at a roadside hut for honey (apparently unspoiled by the pollutants that can plague Western hives) and freshly slaughtered goat – yes, the clients are stocking up and taking loads of it home. I love local customs! (As they say, “>doesn’t get any fresher, or I’d imagine, cheaper, than this.) Wary about the goat meat being stored in the luggage rack above me, and the honey packaged in old water bottles, we take off, and luckily there is no leakage of any sort for the duration.
5 p.m. Back in Nairobi. On cable: “Gorillas in the Mist.” (Yes! Now I can cross that trip to Rwanda off my list!) The hotel buffet has a delicious cream of spinach soup. Time for bed.

* * *

Fun facts about Rift Valley:

• The Rift Valley has been a rich source of fossils that allow study of human evolution. The bones of several hominid ancestors of modern humans have been found there, including those of “Lucy”, a nearly complete australopithecine skeleton.
• As if I didn’t have enough to worry about with malaria, a cholera outbreak is currently reported in Rift Valley (this stuff elicits yawns from the locals), and it is the source of periodic breakouts of Rift Valley Fever.

Yikes! What to do? How to arrange something special from halfway around the world? For some occasions, ordering FTD just doesn’t cut it.

I put on my thinking cap. I was going to be in exotic places. On one end was Dubai, United Arab Emirates, where I was to spend 24 hours on a layover en route to my other business. The place is dripping with money, and unusual characters. Wealth is everywhere. You may have seen the place on the Discovery Channel, or likely in the news. It would be my 5th trip there.

On the other end was Nairobi, Kenya. You might also have seen it in the news, with post-election violence that rocked the nation earlier this year, and even this week (as of this writing, Tuesday April 8, newer incidents were reported after the coalition government failed to reach agreement on cabinet positions). Despite all this, it’s a place of people and scenery that can be quite nice.

I knew I’d be encountering unusual and exotic people along the way. Dubai in particular is a polyglot of nationalities, en route from one foreign land to another. Why not enlist them to help wish my mother, back home in Indiana, a Happy Birthday?

It turned out to be an adventure, and an education. I met people from more than a dozen countries. Almost all were happy to cooperate, and in fact lit up when told of my request (requiring translation on several occasions). Turns out, a birthday milestone is a birthday milestone in any culture.

I met a Moroccan dwarf, a German nun, Masai tribeswomen from rural Africa, and seemingly well-off Arabs in traditional garb. (Click here to see my Flickr album of all the photos.) A family in the Kibera slum of Nairobi, with whom I was sharing homemade vodka (a little scary but fun), broke into a rousing rendition of the “Happy Birthday” song. (The photo above was taken of me, taking a photo of them, by my guide, Noor Khamis.) My few rejections included an Indian woman who ran away from me in the spice markets of Dubai, and security guards at the Dubai airport and in my client’s Nairobi office tower, who flat-out refused due to security or employer concerns.

Several of the conspirators asked to see a photo of my mom; I showed a copy of their anniversary photo that I had on my iPod (caused quite a stir doing this in the slums – the cost of my iPod probably could have paid to run water pipes through several streets). “No way can your mom be 70! She looks great.” I told them I agree!

The first guy I approached was a businessman from Kerala, India. I had just been in India for a few weeks last fall and we exchanged small talk about his home city (known for the best ayurvedic massages and other spa treatments). After I snapped his photo (which turned out to be too blurry from interior cabin light in the aircraft), he said – obviously thinking I cooked it all up as just a prank – “You know, I really do wish your mother a very happy birthday indeed.”

Me too! Happy birthday, mom!
(Click here to see my Flickr photo album of international well-wishers mentioned in this article.)

• The captain of our hot-air balloon reassuringly announces he is professionally trained and has hundreds of flights under his belt. I’m just hoping he’s not the driver of an Egyptian cab on his days off.
• I’m surprised the basket of a balloon can (more or less comfortably) hold 20 passengers and several crew.
• The views of the fleet of balloons, and the blasts of flame inflating them, are impressive, especially against the Egyptian sunrise.
• While not soaring directly over the tombs, we do get some amazing side views of the dusty, ruins-strewn hills.
• Once aloft, our final destination, and even time in the air, is uncertain, up to the winds or lack thereof. A nice surprise after the regimented nature of the rest of the tour. We have a decent enough breeze today, instantly soar to our restricted height, then get down rather low.
• A surprising highlight is the view of farm life from not so far off the ground, floating silently as locals greet each other in dusty lanes, workers chop sugar cane, and so on. I think of the cool views a balloon ride might offer of the farmlands around my Indiana homestead.



• I take more photos than I previously thought I could take in 35 minutes. Even manage to switch from regular to telephoto lens – not easy in our crowded quarter of the basket, but makes a big difference in some of the shots.
• As we land, more than half a dozen balloon crew race through the fields to meet us and stabilize the basket as the pilot deflates. We get out. We’re in the middle of farmland nowhere, it’s getting hotter, and I want to board the tour van to head back to the boat for breakfast, but the balloon company stages a hokey 15-minute celebratory dance to commemorate our safe landing (and maximize guilt for tipping). As always, I try to ignore the touristy hub-bub and look for local color, especially kids, to photograph. One kid sits pensively on a fence, not joining in the others’ begging for spare coins, so he quickly becomes my favorite. After a few snaps, he notices me and his demeanor gets a bit icy. I stop. Later on, I take a few pix from another view, and sneak around the hokey dancers to slip him a couple of dollars – fair enough modeling fee. He seems surprised and thrilled to receive something without having asked.

Link: obsessive Flickr album of the hot-air balloons, sugar cane fields, ruins, etc.

I take a single room on the M/S daVinci, a tour boat based out of Luxor, operated by a U.K. travel firm. Most of the passengers turn out to be Brits – fun travelers overall – and a small splinter group of German tourists. Fine print in the tour contract reveals the reality of Nile tour boat travel – some rooms have fair amount of engine noise, or even generator noise when at dock. And most of all: “The 5-star designation given this ship is from the Egyptian tour boat rating system and is not to be confused with international cruise ship star rating systems.” Fair enough! I’m not expecting The Ritz! The boat turns out to be pleasant enough. There’s a marble lobby, a polished staircase. So it’s not the Queen Mary – it’ll do just fine. A big attraction was the promise of 10 guided day trips to temples and such, included in the passage, with no extra fees or hassles for admission or tour guide. (You do tip the guide at the end, but this turned out to be a big convenience, not having to hassle with entry tickets at temples and such.) In addition, some fun-sounding optional premium trips, like a balloon ride over the Valley of the Kings, were offered.

One peril of the single traveler: finding people to cling to for camaraderie, conversation, travel crises (sunscreen anyone?) and drinking. A key determinant to who you’ll hang with is the table you get assigned to, randomly, on the first day, for ALL meals. By chance, I happened to float in for the first meal call just behind a couple of gays, former Americans now working and living in London. Bingo! A fun trip is guaranteed. Whenever possible, traveling singly or even as a couple, try to seek out and latch onto the gays if you want an entertaining travel experience.

Beyond the land excursions and meals, the trip was a winner with an extremely calm and relaxing sail along the beautiful banks of the Nile (including photo op surprises like this), warm breezes, minimal mosquitoes, nice warm pool under a blazing hot sun, perfect for enjoying a trashy Arabian romance tale picked up in the onboard honor-system book exchange. Traveling through the Nile lock system, both at night and at day, was interesting. It’s really a great way to take a trip back through ancient Egypt under the watchful eye of experienced tour guides and avoid a guaranteed boatload of aggravation dealing with baksheesh crazy opportunists at every turn (for which Egypt is widely known).

Links: Nile scenics photo album. Aboard the Davinci and people met.