Until their arrival in Kenya, these boys never knew that simple stars could be so dazzling. To these "high risk" teens from the concrete jungle, where up to 90 percent of their friends are dropouts pursuing hopeless lives of drugs and violence, the possibility of a productive future used to seem as remote as the Milky Way. But at a humble little school at the foot of Mt. Kenya, where the cries of leopards shriek in the night instead of sirens, the stars themselves, as well as the boy's dreams for the future--are simply brighter.

Baraka is the Kiswahili word for "blessing". Baraka was aptly chosen as the name for a school in Africa that turns out-of-control boys from the inner city into motivated scholars and gentleman. At Baraka, past behavior from failing grades to criminal mischief, just doesn't matter. All that counts is that each boy be guided inwardly by just one star--the desire to become a good man.

Six years ago, Robert Embry asked Baltimore school principals what they needed most. As the head of the Abell Foundation, which invests $5 million a year in education, Embry expected to fund requests for computers, books or after-school programs. Surprisingly, each and every Baltimore school principal defined their most urgent need in the same way. Help us remove the 5 percent of students who are disruptive, they asked. These troubled youth make it nearly impossible for the other 95 percent to learn.

So began the Baraka School. Although most of the students who attend Baraka are African-American, it is sheer coincidence, albeit a meaningful one, that Africa was chosen as the location for this experiment in education. Needing cheap land and a low cost of living to create a residential boarding school, Baraka's founders teamed up with Baltimore businessman George Small, the owner of 150 acres of bush in Kenya. His land at the base of majestic Mount Kenya, surrounded by unspoiled bushland, cattle ranches and a scattering of Masai settlements, became the setting where the requests of school principals were met; remove disruptive teens, get them performing at grade level, then return them to Baltimore where they can have a positive impact on others.

Baraka's mission is to advance the educational, social, spiritual and moral development of middle-school boys from Baltimore City public schools. The program targets boys who need substantial remedial work, whose living environment places them at risk for failing to prepare adequately for adult life, and whose family income would not allow the parents to afford to pay for alternatives to public school.

Baraka aims to bring students up to grade levels in major subject areas, increasing the likelihood that they will qualify for entrance to college or trade schools. The curriculum fortifies teens with social skills needed to distance them from trouble upon return to the United States. Baraka leaders believe that the challenges of the African experience build character, as the boys must cope with the long distance from home and daily life without conveniences. Additionally, Baraka strives to provide a nurturing environment that fosters emotional growth and closeness.

"I had to get away from the streets," explained 14-year-old Michael Braxton. "I wanted to change my life around." Baraka's recruiters try to find boys who are "really sick and tired of being who they are." Recruiters say that these boys must be mature enough to realize where their lives are headed, and also willing to leave their families and everything they know in order to change. Although the program is open to youth of any gender or ethnicity, all who have attended so far are boys, mostly African-American. The majority of the boys come from families where there is no father present and where friends and relatives have been injured or killed in shootings.

The dangers of the African bush are minor in comparison to the potential perils of life on Baltimore streets. Although The Baraka School compound must be surrounded by an electric fence and special guards to keep out leopards and hyenas, some parents who enroll their children do so because they believe their kids are safer in Kenya than in their own neighborhoods. Kaye Yarrell, 39, hugged her son.

Jarrell Milliner and cried with her hand over her mouth before he boarded the plane to Kenya. "It was the hardest day of my life," she said. However, in Baltimore, "you open the door and you see junkies," explained another mother. Although saying goodbye to their teenagers for a year at a time is wrenching for parents, finding condoms under a child's bed and suspension notices in bookbags is an agony that motivates parents to take drastic action.

Baraka recruiters say that the boys who come to Kenya, as well as their parents, understand exactly what lies ahead, as the hardships and challenges of the program are drawn out in detail.

Nestled on 150 acres, Baraka's campus has three horses, vegetable gardens and fruit trees. Students wear uniforms and live dorm-style, three to a room, in traditional African round houses with thatched roofs. Solar energy provides the power, and electricity is available only 6 hours a day. Nanyuki, reminiscent of the small towns of America's old west, is closest, approximately 45 minutes away on dirt roads, Nanyuki has a handful of restaurants, one hardware store and two hotels.

The day begins at 6 am with 45 minutes of physical education, and the boys attend class 6 days a week. Classes are small with an average of seven students per class. The students seem to enjoy the extra attention from teachers, when at home they would be one teen lost in a class of 30. The curriculum emphasizes social skills, art, music and the Kiswahili language.

Free time is given for reading books the students choose themselves. Each student is expected to read one hundred--yes, one hundred--books a year. Although the school has a video library and students watch one every Saturday night--there is no TV, a dramatic difference from the lives of friends in the states, who absorb endless hours of violent video games and TV programs. Study hall is mandatory and lights out is at 9pm.

Extracurricular activities become another sort of learning experience--rich and adventure packed. Students go mountain climbing, camping and horseback riding. On camping trips, they learn to read animal tracks, to use a bow and arrow, to fish and spot game. Field trips take them to exotic parts of Kenya where the boys visit the ancient city of Mombasa and the Indian Ocean. The Riff Valley, known as one of the most beautiful spots on earth, is another favorite field trip, as well as Mt. Kilimanjaro, Africa's tallest mountain.

The boys at Baraka might find themselves riding a camel, petting a cheetah, dissecting a snake, picking guavas from a tree, or slaughtering a chicken for food, experiences of rural life that would have been forever undiscovered had they remained in the city.

Students earn points for sticking to rules that teach respect, responsibility and accountability. Achievement and cooperation is rewarded with prizes like a trip to Nairobi. The environment promotes togetherness and brotherhood through group projects, discussions and counseling activities. The boys sing a song every day before lunch with the lyrics, "I know that I can make it."

Additionally, the boys are encouraged to discover their African heritage by mixing with the local community. Home stays are arranged with Kenyan families, the students play sports against local teams, and each boy adopts a Kenyan "mother" and "father" as part of the Baraka experience.

Although recreation and fun are part of the program, adjusting to African isolation is intense. Homesickness--the yearning for family, familiarity, and a gnawing hunger for an unattainable Big Mac, especially for teens who have never been away from their home, can be excruciating. The staff and the boys themselves expect the adjustment period to be difficult. Students are given two months to learn to adapt to a life where they wash their own clothes by hand and regular phone calls home are discouraged, as these tend to increase homesickness rather than diminish it. Instead, letter writing is encouraged. Boys who fail to adjust will be sent home if necessary. It is common for as much as a third of the class to be returned to Baltimore due to behavior problems ranging from obsessions with torturing insects to simple unruliness.

Culture shock is a disconcerting experience that provides new perspective. Roles are reversed when boys who thought of themselves as poor project kids wearing high-tops are confronted with Kenyan kids who have no shoes at all, and may even beg these teenage Americans for money on the street.

It is too early to tell how much of a permanent effect the school will have on its students. Jeff James, the school's director, says continued funding depends on the schools long-term success. Students have better study, work and social skills, and are better able to compete, according to James. But any small success is evidence that The Baraka School achieves its goals. "This isn't about college prep," says Kate Walsh, the Baltimore-based director. "Its about not losing them."

Chris Rhodes, age 15, was a poor reader and could barely write a complete sentence when he left for Baraka. While at school, his determination to succeed reached new heights. Upon returning home, Chris found that many of his previous 6th grade friends had already committed crimes or become drug users. Chris explains that he still enjoys playing sports with his old peers but,he says, "When they start talking drugs--I leave." Baraka students say they have overcome distractibility and learned to focus, and that they come away from the program with many important skills, including the ability to get along with peers instead of fighting. Officials say the goal of keeping boys in school and out of trouble is met.

Returning to city life is another adjustment, which is helped by continued mandatory tutoring and follow-up from the Baraka School staff in the states. The Abell Foundation steers the boys away from their neighborhood schools, placing the top students into City College High School and most others into parochial St. Frances Academy, tuition free. However, the boys still must renegotiate their lives out of school. Critics of the program feel that taking the boys away from the environment that they still must ultimately learn to deal with is not the answer. However, the adjustment seems to be a positive one. As one teen stated after returning home, "I stay inside a lot. I don't want to be with hoodlums."

Annual expenses per student at Baraka run about $14,000 per student, a sum slightly higher than the cost of education in the local school system. The Abell Foundation asks the City of Baltimore to pay half that amount. Members of the board of education are evaluating the program and may not continue funding. In that case, Embry says, Baraka will be closed. However, if the city commits to long-term funding of Baraka, Embry plans to open similar schools in other locations where expenses are low.

How would students themselves evaluate the program? "It's so much better than being in school at home," one student says. "The three things I like about Baraka school are: It's a good surrounding for education, it is quiet here, and I am making my family proud."