Culture Shock

I leave in 2 days. I am excited to come home because, well, it’s home. It’s so completely different from where I’ve been for the last 3 months, which is why I’ve been where I’ve been for the last 3 months. It’s going to be amazing to come home, see my friends, my family, Birdie. I’ll be home just in time for Christmas, my birthday, New Years, what could be better? I feel I have stayed just the right amount of time, I wouldn’t take back a single day (well maybe the one where I thought I was going to be deported) but honestly it’s been an experience that is invaluable. As cliché as I dare to sound I have seriously learned things that are going to shape the person I become and affect my life forever. I love culture shock. It’s exhilarating for me to step off a plane and not know what to expect and know that I have to figure it out. Figure it out to survive. I know no other thrill like it. That’s exactly what I was after when I left for Africa, and a chance to make a difference while figuring out how to survive, mission successful. It’s been a passion of mine to learn about developing countries and how the people in developing countries live. I can’t think of anything more developed and sometimes sickeningly so than the area of the world that I’m from. A blessing and sometimes a curse. Opportunity can sometimes mean the difference between a Harvard degree and growing up believing that a curse from a scorned neighbor is the reason for a family members death. So if you can’t help where you are born, sometimes there’s things you can’t blame people for believing in and doing.

Points worth mentioning:

Cockroaches really are as resilient as they say, I honestly believe that they would survive a nuclear holocaust.

Drinking scolding hot tea in 90+ degree weather is quite enjoyable and actually cools you down (it’s acquired)

Bucket showers are quite effective, really relaxing and don’t require much water.

Western plumbing is something I have continuously missed and can’t wait to see again.

Washing laundry by hand, while I can’t say I’m going to miss it, feels like an accomplishment every time.

Patience in a place like this is essential, you won’t last without it.

Living with spotty electricity and water isn’t half as bad as it sounds.

African women may physically be the strongest people on the planet. If I suddenly had to carry water and firewood atop my head for miles with 2 small babies strapped to my back in 100 degree weather, well, let’s be honest, I wouldn’t last 5 minutes.

Traveling alone can sometimes feel kinda lonely, but unless you’re on the moon you’re never really alone.

Poverty sometimes makes people do crazy things.

Although there are 5 mosques in this 1 village, that start prayer over loud speaker, all at the same time, at 5 am and 4 other times throughout the day, I have taken a liking to the singing.

Kwaheri Kenya! I am in England. I arrived last night. It took 2 flights, a time change and a lot of lugging of luggage but I’m here. I stepped out of the airport and directly into snow. My body is in total shock, so is my brain. The first vehicle I stepped into was a swanky Mercedes cab shared with a nice Croatian man, a far cry from the hot crammed ramshackled matatus I’ve been traveling in for the past 3 months. For the first time in 3 months I am not a minority. When I got settled in my hotel room I was nervous to drink the water from the tap, then I remembered where I was, and drank lots from the tap. Travel makes you so thirsty. I was too tired to eat dinner so I hunkered down in my single room and got hours of sleep, punctuated by bizarre dreams. You know the kind of dreams where you’re trying to get somewhere but for a dozen reasons you just can’t get to where you’re going? I kept dreaming that I had to get to my house in Takaungu but I couldn’t and I couldn’t reach bibi to let her know that I wouldn’t be coming home. I knew she would be nervous if I didn’t come home.

This morning I went down to enjoy a full continental breakfast. I took a book with me because traveling alone can sometimes be awkward. People give a little look and you know they’re wondering where you’ve come from or going and why you’re traveling alone, I know I do. Fried eggs, bacon, hash browns, coffee, it was lovely. I get the boot from the hotel in 2 hours, at noon. My flight isn’t until 7:50 pm this evening. I am ill equipped for the weather but I have a really excited feeling. It really feels like Christmas. I think because I haven’t been bombarded by images of it since the day after Halloween. It was so hard to believe it was the holiday season in Kenya. It was so hot and Santa’s face couldn’t be seen anywhere.

I am now going to enjoy my first hot western shower since I was last in the states. No spicket and bucket here. That’s all for now. Home: see you soon. Happy Holidays!

Stuck Thoughts

Phew! It’s been awhile. Thanksgiving has long since come and gone and it’s December already?! Although I could convince myself at any given moment that it’s actually the middle of August. It has been unbearably hot the last few weeks. It’s unrelenting as soon as the sun starts shining at around 8 am. I really shouldn’t complain as I hear it’s snowing at home, but I have to say I am looking forward to scarves and boots when I return. I imagine it will only be a few days at home in the cold before I’m wishing I were back on the equator by the sea, butthat’s just the way it goes I suppose.

So World AIDS Day was December 1^st and a group of us from the EAC went to a village about an hour and a half inland for the districts celebration of the day. There was a parade procession and in typical Kenyan fashion lots and of skits and dramas. Acting out scenarios seems to be the best way to pass a message around here. We brought with us a few of our kids from Vutakaka Primary and they acted out a skit about love and AIDS. The crowd loved it. We had an event for Takaungu on December 4^th which went really well. Between a few of our community health workers, and teachers me and a few other volunteers put together 15 minute speeches for them to talk about on HIV topics. We made and hung posters, gave a condom demonstration and provided testing and counseling. The PA system and music lured people in then we bombarded them with information. We had an excellent turn out and 55 people got tested, only one of them came up positive, which is obviously unfortunate but out of 55 not half bad.

I’ve been doing A LOT of thinking lately, which is not hard to do given my surroundings. Having been in East African almost 3 months I’ve had enough time to get comfortable and really take a look at how things work, and don’t around here. And in seeing how things go along it makes you wonder how they got to be that way. If you look closely enough, and sometimes not closely at all you can see post colonial issues. Kenya has been independent less than 50 years so naturally there are colonial scars and a country that is trying to figure things out. Poverty is woven throughout. Add on top of that add a corrupt government, which in African is nothing new. You can experience it without having to try very hard. Bribes are common place and often necessary. In this corrupt government comes religious ideas that effect health and education ideas. It trickles down to the towns and villages where the people live and runs face first into old traditional African ideas and customs. In each small village and group of people there is a very distinct, very different combination of these traditional ways and Christianity, or Islam. In Takaungu alone you can see a mud house, which is unique to Africa and only 20 feet away see a modernish concrete house. This is repeated around the village. Most likely in the mud house there is a Guriama family who practices a marriage of old African traditions and probably some Christian ones. In the concrete house a Swahili Muslim family is praying 5 times a day and combining the local African ways with Islam. In one of these Swahili homes I have been positioned with my western ideals and liberal thinking. It is easy for me to see that there are problems, from a ghastly amount of teen pregnancy, or HIV/AIDs to tons of people sitting around all day to due to lack of jobs and low literacy rates. Overcrowded schools with no resources and kids working on their parents farms all day instead of going to school because either their parents didn’t go to school and don’t see the need to send their kids, or they don’t have enough money to pay the school fees, or both. All of these things can be seen, it may sound unbearable but people are getting by. So with all of that being said my thoughts whirl in circles about what the main issue is, and why it is that way. And what if anything can be done? And most importantly do the people want anything “done”. It is impossible to pinpoint one issue that makes things the way they are. In having conversations with local educated people they scratch their heads and ask themselves the same questions. We agree that health and education are where the answers lie but then the conversation goes back to the beginning. The government is not putting the much needed money into health and education programs so the people simply aren’t getting them. When I stroll in with my ideas of educating the youth about safe sex as a good starting point some people look at me like I have 5 heads and some agree. However, the ones that agree know it’s illegal to teach such things in the schools and the village people would simply freak if one of their kids was caught with a condom. In comes government and religion. Sometimes I just want to pull my hair out.

I was having a conversation with Saade last night. She is witty, educated and has pretty open way of looking at things, she is also a strict Muslim. Sometimes we will be chatting away and I think we are totally on the same page then when a subject such as dating (which Muslim girls don’t do) comes up I realize that we come from very different worlds. Either way, we have great conversations and have learned a lot from each other. Last night I told her that I don’t personally know any family in the US that has 5 or more kids and she was shocked. Here, men want kids. Lots of kids, although often the men are absent it is a sign of success for them to have multiple kids. Honestly if you ask any woman who has 9 kids and is pregnant with her 10^th (it wouldn’t be difficult to find here) why she is about to give birth to her 10^th child you probably wouldn’t get any answer that makes a whole lot of sense. “Sense” being a relative term. The answer most always would be, my husband wants lots of kids, end of story even though it’s likely for the husband to be off with multiple girlfriends and wives producing more babies and possibly bringing home HIV. So where does that lead us? Tons and tons of kids that can’t be provided for that mostly won’t go to school and many will become pregnant before the age of 16 and who knows how many more will get HIV because they aren’t educated. Around and around and around and around it goes. Coming from the land of good free primary and secondary education, big clean hospitals, on average small families, a place where I personally know not one person infected or affected by HIV/AIDS and where I myself identify with no religion and believe strongly in equality between men and women makes me quite possibly more interesting to the village than it is to me. All of this is not to say that there aren’t problems in the good old US of A. There’s problems everywhere. But the contrast between the problems where I come from and the problems here are striking. Sometimes I wonder if both worlds are just so different, too different and no matter the reasons the reality is they will never bond. This term “development”, is it working? To who is it working? Who can be the judge of whats working and whats not? The average westerner would come here and be shocked, as I was when I first got here. But now, even though the issues are much clearer to me I see smiles on peoples faces. Where I sit now, in the small Village of Takaungu, Kenya on the coast of this gigantic continent people are generally happy. So is happiness the judge? I have been bouncing back and fourth between feelings of defeat and small triumphs. I have learned a great deal of patience, and perspective. Objective perspective is perhaps the most difficult thing, and if you are a human it is impossible to be objective all the time. We are a product of our culture, all 6+billion of us. Our culture is what makes us human. If a culture produces outcomes like the ones I see here then who am I to try and make a change? I don’t want to change a culture, so I guess the only answer is to impact individuals. When I go home I can only hope that my little lesson plan and curriculum will teach just one kid something they didn’t know that will protect them from the challenges they will have growing up, which are many and dangerous. I am extremely lucky to be working with the people I work with here, who, for whatever reason see the importance of basic health care and education.

That’s my rant. I haven’t posted any blog entries in awhile because most of these thoughts have been stuck. Now they feel a little unstuck. Kris and I would have conversations about these stuck thoughts and ultimately kept coming back to the same word to describe Africa: Intense.

On another note, my host mom has moved to England to be with her husband. That leaves me with grandma, or bibi, and a revolving door of family members that have come to keep her company. Her other kids come and bring their kids and stay for a few days. Sometimes I get lucky and there’s a few English speaking people in the house and sometimes, most times I don’t. At the moment there’s a small pair of twins visiting, and they cry, a lot. Somehow everything is moving on relatively smoothly and bibi and I are buds. Kris and Krstyle have also left for the US so I am the only mzungu around. This weekend I went to Mombasa with a group of other volunteers and experienced the night-life and danced until the middle of the night. Fun but exhausting.

I have less than a few weeks left so I have to start wrapping things up. I will finish up my work, maybe read one more book and then it’s back to “Obamaland” as they call it. I was hoping for a big epiphany in Kenya, although I don’t remember a specific moment where a huge light bulb went off a bunch of little ones have been flickering the whole time. I have a clearer idea of what I want to pursue once I get home I’m already looking forward to my next overseas adventure.

Passports, Safari and Fertility Beads

Things have worked out with immigration and the embassy. It took a few days of back and fourth and phone calls, misinformation and traveling around but in the end Kris and I were given back our passports along with a letter from immigration saying that we can stay and continue our projects. Although the letters state we are medical students, we are going to go along with it. The “typo” is just going to have to be tagged onto the long list of unexplainable things that go on here. Encouraging words from EAC employees telling us that our services are needed and that were praying for us to be able to stay were really nice to hear.

Before coming to Kenya I knew a safari was something that I couldn’t leave before doing. Upon being told that I’d be able to stay I booked one right away. I was traveling by myself so had to link up with a group of tourists to avoid paying a personal driver for two days. I set off Wednesday morning at 5 am by way of piki to catch a matatu to meet the group. When we got to the meeting point I was greeted by Salim, our driver, a British couple and two women from Germany, ironically traveling by themselves as well. “What hotel are you staying in?” was the topic of conversation. I explained that I stay in a village with a family which made for an interesting discussion, it was my first time chatting with tourists since being here. After giving our brief backgrounds we set out for Tsavo East and West. It took a few hours to reach but almost immediately we started seeing animals, our first being ostriches, then elephants. Herds and herds of them. Our first lodge was positioned around a watering hole where 20 or 30 of them were marching, splashing, trumpeting, mating, eating and just being elephants. It was amazing. Exotic birds whirled overhead and neon lizards scattered about. For the next few days we drove around observing lions, zebras, giraffes, buffalo, an array of antelope, crocs, hippos, baboons and one leopard. The only thing missing was the rhino, which in this part of Kenya lives only in Tsavo West, there are only about 50 of them so we would have had to be extremely lucky to see one. We already were extremely lucky with everything else we saw. By the end our group was like a little family.

Now it’s back to Takaungu. It’s funny, when I’m away for a few days it feels good to come back to my host family and room, I feel like I’m coming home. Ecstatic energy has filled the house; Saadiya traveled to Nairobi while I was on safari and was given a visa for her and Awadh to move to England to be with her husband. I think she may actually leave before me. It will be strange to live in her house with her mother after she’s moved away but I’m so excited for her, she’s only 27 and has such an exciting life ahead of her.

Now it’s Saturday morning and I just woke up and finished “A Hundred and One Days”, a Norwegian journalists account of being at the very beginning and heart of the American Iraqi War. I recommend it, as it’s interesting to get a completely different perspective of how things started there, and unfortunately how they continue. I took a break half way through “Wizard of the Crow” to read it but will pick it back up today. I am anxiously waiting for Kris to finish “The Time Travelers Wife” so hopefully I can read that while I’m here as well. Otherwise the only other book on my list at the moment is Jared Diamonds “Collapse”. I have been picking up and putting that book down for almost a year now and would really like to tackle it once and for all. I think the best book I’ve read this year, and possibly my favorite ever is Tom Robbins “Jitterbug Perfume”, I’m actually looking forward to reading it again when I get home, and above all recommend it to everyone. So tomorrow I will venture to Vuma Beach with Kris, Mohamed and possibly Saade. Hopefully, we will ride bikes as it’s a really long walk, that is if we can find enough.

My goal in the coming week is to learn more about fertility, or cycle beads. I remember learning about them in school and just recently a light bulb went off and I thought, “This would be the perfect place for them!” I don’t know everything about them, but I do know that they were developed for women in developing countries with very little resources. It’s a strand of beads, some of them different colors. You move one bead each day and it helps you monitor when you’re most fertile, to avoid getting pregnant. After watching Mohamed’s most recent adult ed class, which was detailed in family planning methods I think this might be an effective means for a lot of the women in the village, and for the girls in primary school. Mohamed explained in detail the pill, copper T and other methods and while many of the women agreed that they would like to practice family planning all of them agreed that their husbands wouldn’t let them. The husbands want lots of children they explained. If they take the pill and gain weight their husbands will know, most of them dare not take home a condom. So, if I can learn more about these fertility beads, and find an organization to send a bunch to Takaungu I think it could be quite effective. World Aids Day is quickly approaching (December 1). The district is celebrating in the village Choni so we will go there and see what it’s all about. As for Takaungu we will organize something most likely on December 4. We have some kids from Vutakaka Primary who have organized and rehearsed a skit and hopefully we can get some kids from nearby schools to perform a dance. We will be providing testing, counseling and lots of information. It will be a really cool time to be in Kenya. So for all of you at home, get tested! Why not?

"The Truth Will Set You Free"

I’ve read quite a few books since being in Kenya about government corruption in Kenya, Nigeria, Iraq and various other countries. I have been thinking, “I wonder what I would do in a shady situation?” Well, this morning I found out.

So there is this house in Takaungu, the biggest house there. It’s owned by an Italian man named Tony who only spends a few months out of the year Kenya. The Takaungu sub chief started building a house so close to Tony’s house he literally could step from his front door into her front door. Tony’s house is beside mine so I’ve been watching the back breaking construction go on for over a month. One day while walking somewhere I met Tony for the first time. He looked upset. He said, without introducing himself, “They can’t build here! This is my property! I’m going to my lawyer.” That was that.

I was laying in bed reading early this morning and Katana, one of the EAC’s groundskeepers came to my house and told me that there were some men and Tony waiting for me at the primary school, and I should head over there. So I went there, and was greeted by two men from immigration, Tony, and the head teacher. I was confused but not yet scared. The immigration officials told me to go back home and get my documentation, and my “colleague” (Kris). Kris and I went back to the school with passports in hand. They snatched them from us and started asking us questions. “What do you do with the EAC? What does your work in Kenya entail?” We tried to explain to them that we don’t exactly work, we volunteer. The officials then showed us our visas and said, “this is a holiday visa, it isn’t for working or volunteering”, which is true. We explained that we weren’t advised otherwise when it came to getting a visa, but it was in vein. A copy of the Kenyan Immigration Act was opened up and we were told to read a few confusing clauses. They then shoved a piece of paper and pen under our noses and told us to write statements declaring what exactly we do with the EAC and in Takaungu. Simon looked me square in the eye and said, “The truth will set you free.” He was messing with us, my stomach turned and thoughts of prosecution and Locked Up Abroad came to mind. They turned to the head teacher and tried to pigeon hole her into admitting that she was our boss and that she allows us to teach at the primary school. She insisted, and truthfully that she is not our boss, and that we do not teach at the school but again, it fell on deaf ears. Simon looked at the head teacher and exclaimed, “this is what’s wrong with Africans! They don’t tell the truth!” To hear that from one African to another was unsettling. The head teacher took in stride. Our boss is in the states, she’ll be there until the end of this month. We made the mistake of putting the word “work” in our written statements. I shot Tony a, “what should we do glare” and we rubbed his fingers together for the international sign of $. No way was I going to risk it with a bribe, everything was too shaky. The officials handed us our passports for a brief moment so we could write the passport numbers on our statement sheets and then took them back. I asked why but it didn’t matter. Kris insisted that they not take it, as the one official, Simon was prying it from her fingers he saying, "I am not taking it by force”, clearly he was. The whole thing was so surreal. Simon and his sidekick told us to report to the immigration office in Kilifi in 1 hour, and off they went with Tony and our passports.

Kris and I quickly sent out a few important emails and called the US embassy, who advised not to go to the immigration office and that they were launching a fraud investigation. Quickly word got out that Tony had gotten the building of the sub chief’s home stopped and she was so angered that she called immigration claiming that Tony was housing volunteers, which is illegal and untrue. So after a day of “what ifs” we decided to come to Kilifi and spend the night with a friend Peace Corps volunteer to wait things out. It looks like the embassy frightened the immigration office because one of its minions called us and told us we could come by and pick up our passports at 8:30 Saturday morning and they would issue us a volunteer pass no problem. We’ve been advised against this so things will have to wait until Monday.

To lighten the mood we went to Mombasa, to a state of the art movie theater and indulged in Fame, which was quite entertaining and distracting. Tomorrow we plan to spend the afternoon in Malindi to blow off some steam and prepare for whatever Monday may bring. Either we will get passes to stay, or I will be seeing JFK airport a lot sooner than I thought I would, however my time here is not done.

I am not superstitious but upon reflection, I just realized that yesterday was Friday the 13^th. When it comes to superstitions if there ever were a time and place to believe it would be here and now.

Reggae and Swahili Ritual VS Cipro

It’s been a slow week. Mohamed has taken 3 days off so in turn that means I have a few days off. No home visits or village talks this week. I spent time in Kilifi and Takaungu last weekend and just hung out with my host family, and their families. I went into Mombasa on Monday, which has been getting easier and easier. It’s only about an hour bus ride south of Takaungu but it’s busy, so busy. The streets are crammed with matatus and tuk tuk’s (little motorized carts with 3 wheels that act as taxis) and people swarming. Street vendors are among the most aggressive I’ve ever seen and I feel like I have to watch my back every second. When I first started going there it really gave me a lot of anxiety, but now I’m able to appreciate some of the shopping and places to eat a little more, plus it’s where I have to go receive mail. P.s. I don’t suggest sending me anything at this point as it may take longer than I have here to get. The Kenyan postal system is confusing and honestly quite inefficient. So while in Mombasa I figured it was the best place to pick up some Kenyan music. Little stands with speakers blaring always have the best picks. I went in and told the man, “I want the best Swahili and Reggae CD’s, your favorites, ya know, the stuff they play in the matatus.” He hooked me up with 2 discs (one ended up being a music video DVD which is just awesome.)

On Wednesday Kris decided to visit Mnarani club, which is a resort not far from Takaungu. You can pay a day rate and sit by the infinite pool that overlooks the beach and get a pretty decent buffet lunch. It’s a real treat. I wasn’t feeling 100% when I woke up Wednesday morning but it wasn’t bad enough to hold me back. After lunch however things took a turn for the worst. By the time we got back to Takaungu I was doubled over and the vomiting started, with no signs of stopping. Maybe it was the coconut fish, perhaps the water had finally caught up with me, or maybe I picked up a germ from one of the many kids who high-five me throughout the day. My house is usually bustling with family members, and their family’s family members but last night felt particularly busy. All eyes were on the mzungu dashing in and out of the bathroom. Fatima, Saadiya’s mom started speaking to me in Swahili, something about a curse. Saadiya translated that she was telling me that I must be ill because a person who didn’t have food probably had seen me eating and cursed me for it. All the older woman nodded in agreement. Saadiya is of a different generation, I don’t think she took the implication seriously. Either way, as I lay in my bed in total discomfort one of the women came into my room and said, “come, bring your water”. I mustered up some energy and went out to the kitchen area where everyone was sitting with klean kanteen in hand. Fatima pulled up a small bench and had me sit facing her. One of the children brought over a coffee mug, 1/4 full of something. I asked what it was, vegetable oil and a spoonful of salt. Fatima put the class in my hand, all I could think was “it’s hard enough for me to keep from vomiting just sitting here please don’t make me drink it.” She opened my kanteen and started splashing handfuls of water into the class. Her hand accidentally struck the class and I was too weak to hold onto it, it went crashing and shattering onto the concrete. I felt terrible. She summoned one of the kids to start over, more oil and salt. One of the other kids swept up the mess of greasy broken glass. This time she put the glass down before violently throwing water into it. She then took a knife, and as though cutting a pie into 8 pieces dragged it through the mixture. Then I saw a large flat ladle full of hot embers. I thought, “if she heats it up and dissolves it, maybe I can get it down”, her thoughts were not for me to drink it. She quickly grabbed one of the red embers and plunked it into the glass. The oil was sizzling and smoke was pouring from the glass, she shoved it under my nose, motioning for me to breath it in, quickly. I did as I was told over and over again. I could feel hot splashes of salty oil on my lips and the smoke tasted like a camp-fire. I looked at Saadiya with watery eyes, “it’s Swahili tradition,” she said. If it stopped the nausea I was all for it. Once most of the mixture was evaporated she pulled out the cold soggy embers and began rubbing them on my head, mixing them with my hair, it really couldn’t have been more bizarre, or could it? After all the embers were in my hair she motioned for me to pull up my shirt. I looked around for an explanation. “Your stomach”, one of the kids said. Again I did as I was told and exposed my stomach. She dipped the knife into the remaining liquid, now black from the soot, and gently drew a + across my stomach. Then I was fed a spoon full of the liquid. I wish I could say it stopped the illness, but unfortunately it continued through the night, however I was very appreciative for the ritualistic effort. Saadiya has been making me mild meals; free of the fried items I’m typically given. I had been prescribed cripro, a really strong antibiotic before leaving the states in case of situations like this, I wasn’t well enough to keep one down until the morning but think I’m on the upswing. I was even able to visit the juice man tonight.

Kris said her host family also immediately agreed that I must be ill because of someone less fortunate cursing my food and me. It’s interesting because the same people often will offer a tablet of an Imodium equivalent or suggest seeing a Dr. but many people will just wait it out, or seek the help of a medicine man. It begs the question, “how can someone who suggests modern medicine more readily blame witchcraft for an illness over a bacteria?” I’ve heard a few stories of people dying in the village of very treatable illnesses and I wonder how many of them are explained by witchcraft and never properly treated. There are 2 well equipped dispensaries (health clinics), one in Takaungu and the EAC dispensary in Vutakaka, not to mention the Kilifi hospital which is relatively close and from what I hear a very good hospital. I often reflect on things I learned while studying anthropology and compare them to my experiences here. It can be difficult to stay unbiased but also very interesting to witness first hand as modern ideals crash into ancient beliefs and rituals.

Tomorrow Kris and I are venturing to Malindi and Watamu for the weekend, 2 beach cities located north of Takaungu. There are some ruins in Watamu and you can rent bikes to visit them, cirpo willing it will be a great weekend. The rains have stopped and the weather has been nice. Although the heat is squelching there’s usually a nice breeze.

Tonight I’m going to enjoy some ginger tea and reggae and hunker down with a good book.

November, Matatu Culture, and Some Tid Bits

It’s November and the weekend is here already. Time is whizzing by! Last weekend Kris and I were in Diani in South Coast which was lovely. Our cottage Friday night was spectacular with 2 bedrooms a full kitchen and, a real shower and huge living room, o yeah and monkeys! Scheming monkeys, one of which I caught trying to take off with my coffee. They were friendly, almost a little too friendly and quite photogenic. The beach was amazing. The second night we attended a Peace Corps party on a military base and camped out in tents. It was the first time in a month I had been surrounded by so many mzungus (I’ve gotten quite used to the word) in over a month and it was almost kind of strange. Tony did in fact escort us across the ferry in his taxi on our way there, which was nice but we braved it ourselves on the way back. I have never seen so many people on one water-fairing vessel in my life. It was a mob scene. But we made to the other side with no mishaps.

This week I spent a lot of time reading and organizing the curriculum for next year, and indulging in the juice mans fruit medley. He’s quite an interesting man. We chat over cold bowls of “fruit delight” (just one of the possible names we are trying to come up with) and he asks lots of questions about Americans. These questions include, but are not limited to: why do Americans drink more alcohol than they do eat? Is America In Europe? How do Americans celebrate Christmas? Then came the questions of how old are you? When I answered with 24, he said, “o yes, its time to get married”. Around here I suppose I am kind of an old maid already with no husband or kids. He proceeded to tell me all about how his car was stolen and found by the cops in Mombasa but they wouldn’t give it back to him without a 20,000 ksh bribe. He was adamant that he would not pay and if the cops insisted that they would be the ones who would be sorry. I didn’t pry too much but within 2 days he did in fact have his car back, and did not pay the bribe.

This morning Kris and I went into Kilifi and took a different route, through the creek. The Takaungu Creek is really more like a salt-water river that leads right into the ocean. We had heard about this boat that travels back and fourth across it for free and will take you to a piki on the other side but had yet to try it. Saadiya and her husband were setting out for Kilifi this morning also, by way of creek so we tagged along. When we got the creek we saw the large canoe approaching crammed with men and bicycles and one man standing up pushing the boat along with a huge long stick. We had to wade in the water to get in, with a new load of men and bikes and off we went. When we got to the other side there were in fact pikis waiting so I hopped on one and off we went. I’ve really grown to enjoy piki rides. I never rode a motorcycle at home and to be honest they kind of scare me, but there’s something different about it here. The scenery is always stunning and we’re traveling on dirt roads so the speed never really picks up too fast. This was a new route for me, we got trapped in the middle of a cow herd and went through a sisal plantation (sisal is a plant they use to make rope, they look like 10 foot tall pineapples sticking out of the ground). The sun was shining and the ocean was in the background. The piki took us to a matatu stage and we hopped onto our next mode of transportation.

QUICK MATATU CULTURE:

As hectic as matatus are I sometimes find them to be relaxing as well. When I first got to Kenya I listed all things dangerous and would have to admit, riding in a matatu was at the top of the list. But now, I can literally fall asleep while riding in one. There is a whole matatu culture, it’s like musical chairs with 18 people (and the occasional chicken) in a 15 person van while stopping and going and speeding and the “conductor” hanging out of the open sliding door the whole ride shouting at passersby. And did I mention the black lights lining the inside ceiling and fringe lining the black lights and stickers of American hip hop artists covering every square inch and the blasting music and thumping bass? O yes, that’s a matatu, sometimes they don't even come to a complete stop before people get off. They’re brilliant and hilarious and you can catch one day or night within minutes, they literally are the most widely used form of transportation in Kenya. The best advice you can get and give when it comes to matatus is to stay out of the “death seat” which is in the very front next to the driver. Matatu drivers pass the cars in front of them with zero regard for what may be coming in the other direction. They pass 3 and 4 cars or trucks at a time and much of the time it becomes a game of chicken with opposing matatus. It’s best to sit in the middle and keep your eyes on something other than the road in front of you, or just fall asleep, which for me took some time.

So after Kilifi, I went to adult education with Mohamed. He gave a detailed lecture on condoms and out came the wooden penis for the demonstration. There was lots of giggling and questions. The girl next to me couldn’t have been a day over 14 years old and had a 6 month-old baby in her arms, making it difficult for her to take notes. I gave her a little glance and scooped up the baby so she could write. Mohamed had met her at a previous home visit and after learning that she was a school drop out convinced her to come to adult ed, she hasn’t missed a day since. At the end of the last adult ed class 10 of the women came to Mohamed and told him they were ready to get tested for HIV. They were tested on the spot, all of them negative. It’s just awesome to see the adult education classes in action and in only 3 weeks such positive things are happening. Mohamed is such an excellent teacher, he is what every village, town, city, and community project needs. He is so passionate about his work and his village and the people in it. He’s eager to get every kind of certification he can be it VTC (voluntary testing and counseling) or drug and alcohol counseling, he’s totally open to new ideas and embraces them, which makes him a pleasure to work with.

At the end of the day I decided I had to take a dip in the ocean. I swung by Kris’ and said, “I’m going to the beach, are you in?” Off we went for an evening swim. On our way back we hit up the juice guy (shocking I know) and had a long convo with him about how our favorite fruit mixture needed a proper Swahili name. He said, “I just call is fruit salad”. “O no, it’s much more than that” Kris and I insisted. So that’s the mission we’re on, he told us he’d make a sign for it if we come up with something good.

This weekend I am hanging in Takaungu. I hope to get some work done and spend as much time at the beach as possible. I may attend a drug and alcohol counseling session on Sunday, we’ll see. For now, it’s time for dinner. Until next time, thanks for staying tuned!

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Juice, Uvulas, Almost Halloween

I have made a deal with myself, no more drinking the local water. This deal includes juices and anything else made with the water. I got into the habit of accepting a cup of water here and there whether at the school or on the weekends at a hotel or restaurant but I have been paying for it with an uncomfortable stomach. I have a water purifier in my room and bottles of water are easily accessible so I figured, there’s no reason to drink potentially harmful water. That is until I passed the ever so tempting juice man who has a stand between Kris’ house and mine. He makes the most delightfully refreshing tamarind juice with little shards of ice in it. It’s such a treat to have a cold beverage in Takaungu. I have settled for room temp (more warm really) water but sometimes I can’t resist this juice stand. Since my stomach has been in kinda bad shape I decided it was time to give up the juice and stick to the purified water, however, Kris and I strolled by today and were quickly drawn to the juice man and his stand. He had large buckets of brightly colored mixtures, the outside of them sweating. I knew they were cold and had to know more. We stopped by and asked. One bucket was a blended fruit mixture: pineapple, banana, mango, papaya, COLD. The other bucket was avocado juice. He recommended they be mixed together. I was sold. I knew these slushee purées were mixed with local water but I made the snap decision that maybe a little stomach trouble would be worth it. It was so hot, I had a fresh sunburn and nothing seemed more appetizing. Plus, how can you beat 35 shillings per bowl? That’s like 50 cents. So 2 fresh bowls were prepared and the man led us to his 1 table and only 2 chairs. Kris and I thoroughly enjoyed every spoon full of our icy fruit treats and laughed about how the whole scenario was unlike anything you could find in the states. So far so good, my stomach is holding up, which is good because we have already told the juice man that we would see him bright and early tomorrow morning for another bowl full.

Yesterday I did home visits in Takaungu with Mohamed. I had been told about a medicine man in the village whose specialty procedure is removing children’s uvulas (the hangy ball in the back of your throat) with a blade to cure a persistent cough. He normally has a gathering of women and small children waiting in line to be next for the cough cure. I asked Mohamed to take me there in hopes of experiencing one of these procedures but he had no clients. At our next house we met a women with a few kids, one of them coughing. She told Mohamed that she was taking the girl to the medicine man to have her uvula removed the following day. Mohamed looked at me and smiled, “do you want to go?” he asked me. I knew I had other obligations so had to decline; my only concern being that a clean blade would be used. Although I don’t know if removing someone’s uvula will cure a cough, I am no doctor and it is something people in Takaungu have been doing for years and years. Really is it harmless, unless the blade is being reused. Mohamed and other CHW’s really pushed to educate mothers and the medicine man about the importance of using a different, clean blade for every child and so far so good. The next house Mohamed wanted to check up on was of a woman who was pregnant last time he’d seen her. He had heard that she’d delivered by cesarean 10 days earlier and wanted to see how she and the baby were doing. We were invited in and immediately the woman looked at me and asked, “Would you like to hold him?” I was flattered; he was so cute and brand new. I held him while Mohamed asked a few questions and reminded the woman of the baby’s first vaccinations then on we went. Shortly after we got caught in the rain and had to call it a day.

I have finished “28 Stories of AIDS in Africa” which I recommend to everyone, whether you have a particular interest in Africa or not the information provided is shocking and inspiring. I feel it’s definitely something every person raised in a “developed” country should read. I enjoy books that put a little perspective on things and really open your eyes to events that are happening now. Tonight I will start “Wizard of the Crow” by Ngugi wa Thiong'o which I’m excited about. I have also rekindled my relationship with Bob Marley. It’s been so long since I’ve listened to him, I think I was saturated for a long time and had to give it a rest. It’s so nice to hear again.

Today Kris and I journey to South Coast for a weekend away. We have 2 nights booked at a hotel (with running hot showers!) but perhaps will be camping the second night. Right now we are in Mombasa having a quick meal and beverage and enjoying the fast internet connection. We have to hop a ferry to get to the various matatus that will take us to our final destination. The ferry, from what I've heard is jam packed with people because it's free and running rampant with thieves. Before leaving Takaungu everyone took a minute to tell me about their friend, or friends friend who was robbed on the ferry. SO, I think Kris and I are going to call Tony the taxi driver to escort us. Paying him will be worth it since we don't have to pay for the ferry, plus he will be our body guard. It’ll be an adventure. I’m most interested to see how Kenyans are going to react to a large group of foreign people dressed in costume.

Happy Halloween everyone! I will be thinking of Tooth’s front porch and my home loves and Birdie in her little monster costume, I can’t wait to see the pics!

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The Latest

October 27, 2009

Last night the rain was so loud it not only woke me up but wouldn’t let me go back to sleep. In between the bursts of downpour the frogs came out. I had been told about the frogs when it rains but until last night hadn’t even seen one. Before bed I saw one skipping across our outdoor kitchen, I should have known I’d be hearing from them. I could count 3 different kinds of croaks, working together in a frog orchestra all night. I have screens in my windows, but no actual windows as it’s just too hot so the noise (and mosquitoes) flood in. I read a lot before bed so the dreams swooped in between the rain and the frogs and somehow one of my legs shimmied out of my mosquito net leaving it exposed and creating a hole for the blood sucking disease creeps to come on in and help themselves. I was a feast for the mosquitoes. *sigh* Speaking of wild life, there was a scorpion in my bathroom last night. I have gotten used to the cockroaches and even some of the spiders but I don’t think I’ll be getting too friendly with the scorpions. I’ve been told only to fear the small ones, as this one was. Maybe it was just a baby version of the big less harmful ones.

Today I went with Mohamed and the other EAC CHW’s to Kianda, a neighboring village to Takaungu. We have a monthly theme that we take from village to village; homestead-to-homestead to teach about, this month was family planning. People were receptive and open to talk about what family planning methods they were using, if any, and how they felt about it. The depo shot is common here which is an effective means for those who can’t get to a clinic easily. The villages can be quite remote. We saw newborn babies, pudgy toddlers, mothers of multiples and a man dying of AIDS, he’s 29. He told us lying skinny in his bed that he resisted getting tested for a long time because he thought he was ill due to witchcraft. He had sought medical attention from a local medicine man with no positive results. Finally he went to a hospital and was tested, positive, and started ARV (antiretroviral) treatment. He says he feels better because he’s able to sit up on his own. Today I saw and experienced things that up until now I had only read about in the books that have inspired me to come to Africa. It’s both humbling and motivating.

Every second here is a photo op but not every photo op is appropriate. It’s so tempting to whip out my camera every chance I get but many of the women are shy and skeptical about having their picture taken. Plus I am the only white person walking in a group of health workers so already I feel lucky to be welcomed, especially since we are always talking about such sensitive topics. Today was like something from a photo journal. The tall palm trees and jungle atmosphere and mud brick houses with palm-thatched roofs. Women in brightly colored fabric with babies tied to their backs and enormous piles of firewood or buckets of water balancing on their heads. I take pictures when I can and the rest I make mental notes of and try to draw pictures with my words.

Yesterday Saadiya left for Mombasa, and Nairobi with her husband who has flown in from England. He lives there and has come to sponsor her for a visa so her and her son can move there as well. This is an excellent opportunity for them. Saadiya is young, educated and eager to work but there just aren’t any jobs here. Last week I quizzed her with her visa application and I think she’s good to go. So, that leaves her mom and I together for a week with no common language. I thought it the perfect opportunity to start Swahili lessons. Last night was my first lesson with Saade, which I am exchanging for swimming lessons. I told Saade it was absurd that she has grown up by the sea and can’t swim. She informed me that all the boys in Takaungu can swim, but none of the girls which I think is because the girls are raised to be so modest in their dress and demeanor whereas the boys are taught to be boys and explore and do all of things that kids should be doing, giving them more opportunity. When her 2 younger sisters heard that we would be starting swimming lessons this Thursday they quickly signed up. Hopefully in no time we will have a group of Takaungu girls swimming like fish and I will be speaking Swahili. We’ll see.

I just finished “The God of Small Things” which was good but a bit confusing; I may revisit it while I’m here. A few days ago I started “28 Stories of AIDS in Africa” which has completely stolen my attention. A reporter traveled Africa telling 28 peoples stories of how AIDS has affected them, representing 1 for every million reported cases in Africa. The number is almost certainly higher than 28 million but it impossible to know for sure. The stigma attached to HIV/AIDS is almost as harmful as the disease itself, so many people are dying quietly and alone to keep their disease a secret for fear for being outcast by society and family. It has taught me things I never knew and given me some inspiration for next year’s curriculum for the primary school kids. It’s so hard to know how far you can take certain topics with the young kids, but since they’re the ones starting to have sex I have to figure out a way to be frank without confusing them. Also it’s difficult because we have to teach abstinence, by way of law (I don’t really want to spend time in a Kenyan prison). Abstinence education is unrealistic but for these kid’s ages 12-15 they really have no business having sex anyway, in my opinion. So I figure if we arm them with the cruel hard facts they’ll just be too scared to do it, then when they’re a little older and start learning about safe sex they’ll apply it to themselves.

Thanks for reading guys! p.s. I figured out the picture thing. <3

Dreams, Goats and Adult Education

My anti-malarial medication is causing me to have the most bizarre dreams. Vivid lucid dreaming is one of its side effects; at first I experienced nothing then all of the sudden it’s been nonstop. I had a dream that was so colorful and so loud I’ve never experienced anything like it before. I was floating through outer space and could see earth approaching. An asteroid whizzed by me and headed straight for earth. I braced myself and as the gigantic rock struck our planet. It blew apart in pieces of cloth, earth patterned cloth. From the center of this cloth earth things flew out and past me. A pair of lips, huge and brightly colored swam by saying something, I can’t recall what but I remember thinking it was so loud. Math equations and symbols flew by. It occurred to me in my sleep, “I have figured it out, all of it, the whole universe.” And bam it was over.

Last night I woke up laughing, at what I don’t know. Often times as I’m wakingup in the morning the dreams flood back to me but by the time I’m fully awake they’re gone. People I haven’t spoken to or seen in ages appear in my dreams. I dream all night. It can be almost maddening but sometimes kind of cool. I just remind myself that it’s better than having malaria.

Last night Saade informed me that Vutakaka primary would be having a staff party today (Friday) and that a goat would be slaughtered in the morning for the occasion. I had the noble notion that it was something I should experience, and if I wasn’t tough enough to see the slaughtering then I wasn’t tough enough to eat the goat. So, she told me it would take place at 7 am at the school and not to be late. When my alarm sounded at 6 I quickly noticed it was pouring rain. I thought, “eh, it’s raining, I’m sure there will be another goat opportunity while I’m here”, which was half apprehension, half not wanting to start my day off soaking wet. I text Saade and told her I wouldn’t make it to the slaughtering. At 8:30 she called me in an excited tone and said, “they have waited for you to slaughter the goat, get down here now!” So that’s what I did, first I scooped up Kris and off to the goat we went. I could hear it bahhing before I got there, it was sitting tied up to a tree, black and white spotted, the best looking kind of goat in my personal opinion. In no time Mr. Omar, one of the primary school teachers and Katana and Kanga the grounds keepers were on the goat. Mr. Omar in his teacher attire, nice slacks with a fresh button up shirt neatly tucked in rolled up his slacks and sleeves and unwrapped a tarnished machete from it’s paper casing. Within moments the goat was on its side and its throat cut, within 5 minutes it was dead (you have to allow time for it to bleed out). I experienced the slaughtering. Slaughtering, not killing as Saade has diligently explained to me. “To kill is to take a soul without a purpose, when we slaughter we do it for the meat, it has a purpose.” This makes sense. It’s difficult to explain to people here the disconnect Americans have with the meat they eat. Trying to explain slaughterhouses and mass killing machines cause confused faces.

I got a close up view for the skinning and asked a few questions and took some pics. The skin will probably to go drum making and the meat; we ate later in the afternoon. Deeeelicious. The Vutakaka cooks, one being Saade’s mom Mishi made quite a meal.

Between the slaughtering and the feasting, (these things take preparation) I went with Mohamed to our first adult education health class, Topic: HIV/AIDS. It was awesome, in Swahili so I didn’t understand everything but he’s such an excellent teacher I got the gist, and having made the curriculum with him helped. I handed out condoms and asked questions later. 47 students were in attendance, 40 women, 6 children latched onto their mothers, and 1 man. It reminded me a little of high school with giggles and funny questions and comments of, “Oh! I didn’t know about THAT!” Many of these adults are just learning to read and write so Mohamed and I thought it the perfect opportunity to do lessons on HIV/AIDS, family planning, nutrition, vaccinations and a laundry list of other things. I have mapped out the curriculum, which is always subject to change, but today was a great start. The class expressed interest in getting tested so Mohamed and I will meet with the head nurse to schedule a time for HIV screening. The key really is providing the education and opportunity and the rest follows. Today, almost 50 people learned new things that could potentially save their lives and are armed with new knowledge that will better their lives and the lives of their children forever. That’s an incredible thing.

After everything Saade and I took our semi-nightly walk down to the postcard beach with some young girls in tow and sat and chatted. About multiple wives in Africa as opposed to America, about guys, and train trips, about the ridiculousness of tanning beds and how we’re so alike for so many different reasons.

3 weeks ago I didn’t know how I would be able to stay, now I don’t know how I will be able to leave.

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The above scribble scrabble is courtesy of Awade who wondered into my room and found my computer sitting on my bed while I was having my nightly tea in the sitting room.

QUESTION: The pics from my Nikon D70 have saved as NEF instead of JPEG and from what I understand are Raw? These pics won’t load onto my blog, any suggestions?

It's now Saturday and Kris and I have had our most successful Mombasa trip yet. I am a sucker for African fabric and stocked up today. The EAC sewing ladies are like wizards with their needles so I'm going to pay them a visit on Monday to have some things made, skirt and bags and such. I got my halloween costume! a Kenyan soccer player! I got the sweetest Kenya jersey with KEYES on the back. I bought it to wear to the party next week but primarily as a gift for my bro when I get home. Now we are enjoying a few Tuskers before we hit the road back to Takaungu.

Until next time, Cheers!

Thursday, Kilifi

Kris and I are at Titanic, a neat bar in Kilifi. Reggae and piki's are in the background. It's a good place to hunker down and do some internet research, for work and fun : ) I am getting waves of motivation for Kenya and for when I return home.

Apparently there is going to be an EAC teachers party with the slaughtering of a goat tomorrow which I'm really excited about.

This weekend will consist of gathering Halloween inspiration in Mombasa and the chowing of crabs in Wataumu on Sunday with Kris and Kate.

For now I am going to try and get some pics up (I know I keep saying that) but now I have a pretty solid internet connection. Fingers crossed!

Word of wisdom: there is a niche in the world for everyone. Find it. I wouldn't say mine is Kenya precis but Kenya may help me find it. The world is big, search it. Enough philosophicalness for now.

So far so better.

October 21, 2009

It’s been 21 days and I am feeling much more settled than I expected to feel 21 days ago. Adjusting was more difficult than I thought, and wanted for it to be. It’s been an adventure since day one. After flying from New York through the night to London, resting for a 10 hour lay over sleeping on a broken bench in Heathrow (most confusing airport on the planet), flying to Nairobi then to Mombasa to be greeted by Tony the taxi driver with my name on a sign I felt like I’d been spit through a time warp. Tony, a friendly Kenyan man helped me with my bags and we took off only to be stopped by a female cop moments later. She was standing in the busy street and motioned for Tony to pull over. He looked stressed and this made me nervous. She helped herself to the back seat and motioned for him to drive. He asked if I had 500 shillings on me, which I discretely handed to him, which he tried to pass over to her, as a bribe. She spoke angry Swahili words and before I knew it we were pulling into the police station. He got out, asked me to stay put and went inside. Images of “Locked up abroad” popped into my head and I sat still in the sweltering heat with the windows open trying not to make eye contact with anyone. A van pulled up and cuffed men were escorted into the building. I waited for about a half an hour and Tony reappeared, I immediately calmed down, a little. He explained to me that something similar to his registration was expired and the bribe really pissed her off, even though he had bribed her for the same thing less than a year ago. So we continued on to Takaungu, which after almost 30 hours of travel was the last stop.

The first few days are kind of a blur, lots of sleep, lots of water, some eating. In my house is Saadiya (my host mom) her mother Fatima and Saadiya’s 16-month-old son Awade who is beyond cute. He’s my little rafiki and we have made our own quasi Swahili, English, sign language language. Saadiya is the only one who speaks English, which usually calls for a half hilarious half embarrassing situation. At night the sitting (living) room is full of 15-20 people from the village, usually cousins, nephews, nieces and the like. Kenyan soap operas on DVD and Hindi films in languages no one understands are typically the flicks of choice. Films in languages no one can comprehend lend a bonding experience. I have been reading a lot. Averaging almost 2 books a week. TV is a rarity, which is for the better for a number of reasons. Houses that do have and watch TV are stuck with Tyra Banks, and Chuck Norris Texas Ranger. Electricity comes and goes, as does the water, which sounds more difficult than it really is.

I have been working primarily with a community health worker named Mohamed who is a local Takaungu man working to service the community in a number of ways. He works for the EAC and along with other CHW’s travels to surrounding villages giving talks about family planning, handing out condoms, educating people about HIV/AIDS, weighing babies monthly and overseeing vaccinations. I have been tagging along with him for my time here which has been truly eye opening and amazing. It’s nice to be at such a local level. Along with Mohamed I have been working with Saade, a teacher at the EAC primary school. She and Mohamed travel to surrounding schools as well as teach to the Takaungu and EAC (Vutakaka) schools about the dangers of teenage pregnancy and HIV/AIDS. These issues are paramount. So few girls move onto secondary school (our equivalent of high school) due to pregnancy it’s alarming. This means they’re getting pregnant mostly before the age of 15. I have been working with these people to develop curriculums for the coming year that are appropriate for the ages and send a strong message. This can be frustrating because the Kenyan ministry of education recently banned safe sex education. Although we cannot hand out condoms and give demonstrations to the youth at school we can for the adult education and community classes and perhaps we can refer the youth to the health clinic for after school info. We’ll see.

Other than that I have been getting used to my surroundings. Takaungu is on the coast, the scenery is stunning. The Indian Ocean is pristine and the beaches are something from a postcard. The local beach is not a destination for local people beyond fishing so typically you can have the beach all to yourself. I went snorkeling the other day with some friends, it was amazing. Eels, gigantic sea cucumbers, lionfish and so much more. I am paying for it with my sunburn but it was so worth it. The people, especially the children are amazing. I think I may be the first white person some of these kids have seen, you can tell by the look in their eye and the way they try to hide behind their mother’s knees. I find this amusing and kind of endearing. Mzungu is often how I’m referred to when walking around, which literally translates, according to my Swahili dictionary as 1. European person 2. wonder 3. innovation 4. ritual. Depending on the tone in which its spoken it can feel like an insult but usually I don’t take offense.

Transportation is another point worth mentioning. In Takaungu there are few cars, really probably only 2 or 3. The “roads” are dirt paths often full of puddles if it rains. The rains are short this time of year but the loudest strongest rains I have ever heard. It will rain for only a few minutes at a time but will wake you out of a deep sleep. But anyway, the main mode of transportation is the piki piki, or motorcycle. You only have to walk a few moments before a piki driver will offer to pick you up. From there they will take you down the long dirt road connecting Takaungu and the Malindi-Kilifi highway. From there you wait at the “stage” or bus stop for a matatu. This takes some getting used to. The matatu’s are small Nissan mini-buses no younger than 20 years old filled to capacity at all times that FLY. It can be a little frightening at first but they’re quite effective. Both these modes of transportation are extremely affordable, less than 1USD typically to get to where you need to be.

Swahili food is interesting. A lot of frying. Fried dough’s, fried potatoes, little fried triangles with green peas inside. (All of these have official names, which I will master.) Fresh fish locally caught and a lot of rice. There is no drinking in the village, well there is but it’s palm wine and typically drank in secrecy. The village is a pretty conservative place, mostly Muslim, some Christian and on the outskirts the more “traditional” Giriama people reside who practice traditional religions, witch doctors and such. I spend time outside of Takaungu on the weekends where a few Tuskers are a real treat, which is a Kenyan lager. The heat is brutal. We are almost on the equator so it really never cools down however you do acclimate. It gets dark at around 6:30pm. I have tried to explain to some locals the wonder that is the changing of seasons on the east coast of America and day light savings time, which has blown quite a few minds.

Sooooo, that is the background. Internet is a tricky thing and everything takes a lifetime to load, so pics might have to wait. It’ll be worth it : )

Today, Oct. 21 was an interesting day. Saadiya (the only English speaking person in the house) is in Mombasa until tomorrow so it was up to her mom and I to communicate, somehow. I decided today would be a good day to tackle my first load of hand washed laundry. It really was quite hilarious. Between Saadiya’s mom, myself and an older local woman within an hour my clothes were clean and hanging from the line. Throughout the process a goat wandered through the doorway, a crow (they’re gigantic here!) swooped down and stole a piece of fish left over from lunch and a feral cat ate what the crow dropped from the roof. Soaking wet and laughing between misunderstood languages I felt quite accomplished. From there I enjoyed a relaxing bucket shower (I recommend this to all, even if it isn’t your only bathing option) and spent a lot of the afternoon reading, and checking on my laundry drying in the sun. Later the electricity went out which is always laughable at night. It allows for the most spectacular night skies. Outside, with nothing to do but check on my laundry again a small boy and I caught a shooting star, just a little moment that made my heart swell a bit. One of the uncles who was over at the time remarked, “I bet this never happens in America”, I assured him that if bills weren’t paid and even sometimes when the weather is terrible it does happen in America. You don’t need a reason for it to happen here. He replied with, “I lived in Saudi Arabia for 12 years, never happened there.”

This weekend Kris and I (a fellow volunteer and pal from Portland) plan to go into Mombasa to look for Halloween inspiration. This being a holiday not celebrated, and rarely heard of in Africa should be interesting. I’m psyched about a Halloween party on the South Coast with other volunteers, Peace Corps and VSO peeps. It should include camping on the beach and some good old-fashioned western debauchery in costumes.

Side note: roosters really do cock-a-doodle-doo at the crack of dawn and baby goats are difficult to decipher from baby humans when crying.

There is so much more, and will be so much more. For now that is all. I think I have come up with a strategy to update more often so stay tuned!

p.s. I am ravenous for some new music, throw any suggestions my way!