Homeward Bound

Sorry I'm not writing much about my last few days here in Kenya, but I am literally down to my last 100Ksh. I promise I'll update when I get back state-side. There was no sun and a little drizzle of rain here, but I said my last goodbyes to Josephine and now I have to go pack. I have to be at the Jomo Kenyatta Airport at 8:30pm for my plane that leaves at 11:30, which means I'm taking a taxi to the airport a little after 7pm. I should get into Brussels, Belgium at 6:05am their time, and I should arrive in Newark a little after noon on Saturday. When I finally get to Tampa, it will be 5:30pm or so, which is after midnight in Nairobi. Hopefully the jet lag won't be too horrible as I have to move my new bed up to Gainesville on Sunday! I can't wait to see all your wonderful faces. Much love. Kwaheri Kenya.

Almost Goodbye Lunch and Fun with Bubbles

Melissa and I both woke up at the exact same time (which was a little awkward and funny), and we were both on time to work for once. The goal for today was to clean up the office to get it ready for a final inspection before the HIV testing kits were delivered. This involved Melissa and I sorting through stacks of brochures, boxes of condoms, and hanging up required signs and posters while Josephine and Elosy dusted and mopped. The place actually looked like a clinic (well, one in Kenya anyways) when we were done instead of a storage facility. The lady who needed to complete the inspection was in town for the morning, so we had some really good instant coffee and cookies and sorted through a few more things before heading to lunch. I also bought necklaces made by the beading support group for all of my lovely FUEL ladies when the season starts again in the fall, and gave Josephine half of the clothes I'm leaving here to distribute amongst the caregivers and HIV+ women. Then the four of us walked to Junction and sat down at one of the shaded picninc benches outside the Nairobi Jave House. I had passion fruit juice (which I'm going to miss) and coconut curry with tilapia and french fries. Josephine ordered a huge chicken salad and a side order of fries, and according to African custom, forced every bite down even when it made her miserable. True to my nature, I ordered two desserts (chocolate almond fudge icecream and a blondie) and made everyone have a bit before I finished it all. Josephine and Elsoy left then to meet the lady for the inspection, and I wished them luck before heading up to the internet cafe at Junction with Melissa. It was four shillings/minute (four times what I usually pay) so I tried not to stay long. Afterwards, Melissa went to a small market with some of her friends from orientation, and I decided to walk the whole way back in an effort to burn off some of my gluttony. I got back around 4pm, and my efforts to read turned into a nap with the combined effects of the food and the walk in the heat. During dinner, Patrick was showing off the sunglasses Melissa gave to him, and we all sat around watching news stories that seems to only revolve around the water shortage or the maize shortage or the post-election violence trials. Not entirely uplifting, but the poorly filmed Kenyan sit-coms afterward lightened the mood a little even if I couldn't understand most of them.

Today I went to see the children's center run at Margaret's church, and because of that, I didn't wake up early like usual. After breakfast, we went through the other half of the clothes I'm leaving behind, my shoes, and the other things I'd brought with me (medication, a flash light, anti-bacterial wipes, etc.) to see what the children's center and the school could use. Margaret took everything (keeping a few things for around the house) and I was left with one pair of flip flops and one change of clothes that's not dirty for the next two days. We headed off around 9:30am,and our first stop was at the church I had gone to on Sunday. During the week, the chairs are removed and desks are put in to have two separate pre school and kindergarten classes. Some of the supplies were dropped off here, and then we went to the Hanne Howard Fund. The office was closed, but I saw a few familiar faces in the adults doing the washing and making food for the children. They also have two small lower primary classes that are for the most vulnerable children in the community. I saw ther dorms where the orphaned kids sleep at night, but all of the older children take a bus or walk to various schools in the area. Next, we went to the Lenana Slum Orphans organization, which surpervised the children before Hanne Howard came to Kenya, and now works more with counseling for infected and affected women. The office and all the surrounding land is owned by Margaret's family, and the organization uses the building for free. Her mother's house was close by, and we stopped by to say hi to some of her family. Patrick was there, home sick from school, and I also met some of her sisters-in-law. At least three brothers have houses next door, and I said that it must be nice to live so close to her family. Margaret agreed, but only because they all got along for the most part. We came back to the children's center and I stayed there for a bit while Margret went to town to run errands. The kindergarten group was doing subtraction, and I talked to the teacher for 20 minutes about life in Kenya and the trials that some of the children face. In Kenya, if a man fathers a child or divorces his wife, he is not held legally responsible for supporting them. This remainder from tribal customs and oversight by the leagl system has created dire situations for many women in Africa. Some turn to prostitution which puts them at risk for contrcting HIV, and others simply cannot provide adequate food and education for their kids. The kids usualy take porridge about 11am, but it wasn't ready yet, so I brought out my surprise for them: bubbles. They were so excited that the crowded and pushed their way to the table where the teacher and I handed out wans dipped in bubble solution to the kids, I have a few scratch marks to prove it. Whenever someone blew a particularly large one that lasted, they all shouted and stared at it until it popped on the ceiling, or came and landed on someone's head. When the solution was used up (and I helped clean it up), we went outside to play. They have a slide (the swings broke a while ago), but most of them were content to just hold on to any part of my arm they could reach and stare at the color of my skin. I took a few pictures of them, both in class and outside, and they all laughed and pointed at themselves when I showed them the screen. Their innocence and joy was a gift, and seemed to appear more precious with the poverty and struggle surrounding them. I stayed to help hand out porridge and watch a bit of the pre-schools phonics lesson, before heading home for lunch. Tomorrow is my last day wokring with Josephine, and I hope I will get to see the first HIV test performed at the VCT. I can't belive that five weeks is almost over. It's been a whirlwind, and I've already been made to promise I will return once I finish school. Home is calling, though, and I can't wait to see everyone. Much love.

A Run in With the Police and A Poem

Sunday morning started early as I intended to keep my promise about attending church. Moses picked me up and led me on a five minute walk to a large, one room tin building. The outside was painted blue with the words "Brooks Faith Restoration Center" printed along the side. Inside were 30 children ages 2-16 listening to a very tall man dinging a call-and-response song in Kiswahili. I sat in the back to try and not draw too much attention from the service, but 60 little eyes stared at me unabashed until Pastor Margaret took the stage. She started a loud Swahili song that got all the children clapping and dancing, and it was clear that everyone enjoyed themselves even if the only word I could understand was "Mungu" or God. After another song, offering was collected and each of the children received a small pack of shortbread cookies. It was very touching to see kids, who I'm sure have very little in the way of luxeries as we think, dropping 10 or 20Ksh in the woven offering basket. The children's service only lasted for a half an hour or so, and then the adults started filing in. I realized that the speakers and keyboards present in the church were the same ones that live in cardboard boxes in our room during the week, but I don't know how the people living in tiny tin apartments felt about the songs being blasted from 5 feet away. Eventually a crowd of 20 or so men and women (and a few leftover kids) showed up and the sermon on servanthood began. The male pastor made an effort to switch between English and Swahili, so I uunderstood about half of the message on discipline and integrity and love. A question was also asked from the congregation about whether Judas went to heaven or hell when he died. I'm sure it's a topic that theologists would enjoy debating, but I couldn't understand any of the arguments. Finally, Margaret called me up in front of everyone to announce that I was a volunteer and have me say hi to everyone before I left for lunch. It was a little embarrassing and I had no testimony to add for them, but they were very welcoming. I walked the short distance back accompanied by two young girls who wanted to hold me hand, and had a lunch of leftovers before heading out to the Maasai market at the YaYa center. Margaret had told me to take a matatu to Nakumatt Prestige and then walk down the side street, so I paid my 30Ksh and settled in for a while because the traffic was so bad. Unfortunately, the driver or condutor of the matatu was not on good terms with the police here. The conductor had gotten out once before when we saw a motorcycle cop, but the second time he was spied by two cops and they ran up to the matatu and took the keys. Instead of settling the matter with the driver (writing a ticket or collecting a bribe as is to be expected), the just walked away leaving all 15 of us passengers stranded. Of course theconductor disappered with the money and the driver chased after the cops, so we were left to walk without our money a little before Junction. I suppose I could've have caught another matatu, but I was too mad to pay twice, so I walked the 40 or so minutes along Ngong road until I reached Prestige. It was actual fairly pleasant with trees shading the way and an actual sidewalk of sorts, and everyone who I asked for directions gave them to me with a smile. The marketplace itself was a little hectic with all the vendors grabbing your arm and trying to direct you to their little blanket with all their paintings and carvings and jewelry and fabrics displayed. I ignored most people and walked to the back where things are supposedly cheaper and found a few things I had been looking for. While I hate haggling, the prices were pretty good and I walked a way fairly satisfied. On the way back, there was a young boy hanging around outside begging the tourists, but it was only third time I'd been asked for money in the five weeks I've been here. I took a realtively uncrowded matatu back, but around Junction again the traffic was ridiculous. One side of the roundabout was closed for constuction, so both sides of traffic were cramming themselves into two and a half lanes. Of course, there were no signs of the cops directing traffic (that would actual benefit people and they couldn't force any bribe money out of people), so the conductors of the buses and matatus got out and instructed their vehicles how to sueeze through the mess. I have to say that most of the time the drivers are insane and dangerous, but they know the exact size of their van to the millimeter. Melissa came back from her safari and said she had a great time (and saw a rhino, lucky). Dinner was beans and I went to bed early because I had to be ready for my last day of school.

I went with Melissa to the LocalAid office in the monring to get the string I needed to make my last two necklaces, but Josephine wasn't there yet. Melissa said she'd grab it for me though, and I headed down past the butchery and fruit stands to the Glad Kids school. Everyone was already seated in class by the time I got there, and the headmaster came out to greet me. I was with the older kids again and they were sure full of energy and not wanting to do work on a Monday. The next lesson was supposed to be multiplication and division of currency, but they threw a small mutiny ("I forgot my notebook" and "Can I go to the toilet five times in 30 minutes") until I threatened to get the headmaster. Finally they settled down enough for me to do a few example probelms before porridge break, and I let them go willingly. I am not cut out to be a teacher, that's for sure. During the break I gave them the last frisbee and we played five-hundred for a bit. I took a video, and trust me, it's hilarious. One of the boys did have a nice flick though. After porridge and before lunch I just let them play hangman. I tried to make rules that the words had to be at least 5 letters long and had to be in English, but in the end I was just concerned with keeping them sitting and not shouting. The break let them get rid of some of their energy though, and I chalked it up to a case of the Mondays. Lunch was green grams, cabbage, and rice, and when all the kids came back, they had a surprise for me. All the kids (even the baby class) lined up in two rows and sang songs and recited poems for me. One of the poems was written especially for me and talked about the ball I bought for them and how they wanted me to remember them in America. It was very touching, especially when the teachers came up and said a few words saying that I was like their "first born" since I was the first volunteer there. At the end, the headmaster had one of the girls present me with a colorful kanga to give to my mother when I get back. I took pictures of everyone and with everyone, and then everyone said goodbye. Despite their antics, they really are a good group of kids and I hope the website I'm making will help them get sponsors to further their education. I asked Elsoy how much a good boarding school cost and she said about 7,500Ksh a term which comes out to $300 a year. I saw Josephine coming out of the internet cafe when I got there (the internet was not working) and we walked a ways together. She told me the great news that they'd gotten preliminary approval to receive the testing kits, and the lady was coming to inspect the office tomorrow to make sure all the required signs were posted. For the rest of the afternoon I made my last two necklaces and gave them to Margaret and Maggie. I also started reading Out of Africa by Karen Blixen because it specifically deals with the area of Kenya that I am in 80 years or so ago. Grey's Anatomy was on TV, as well as Storm Over Paradise, and we sat around until almost 11pm watching our guilty pleasures. Today I took Josephine, Elsoy, and Melissa to lunch at Nairobi Java House, but I'll have to write about it later as the internet cafe I'm at is a lot more expensive than the one I usually go to. Three more days and then 24 hours of planes and airports and I'm back home. I can't wait to see everyone!

Early Parting Gifts

Thursday night, one of Melissa's friends from orientation (and a fellow Canadian) stayed the night to get picked up for their safari the next morning. Charlene was teaching in Maasailand, but she was the only volunteer in the village and staying with a father who doesn't speak English and his three sons. From her stories, it sounds like a complete culture shock with no running water and no electricity. The toilet is outside, and once she went outside at night to find the big bull standing in front o the door. Also, the middle son caught a dik dik (like a small deer) with his bare hands in the garden and then killed it to have for supper later in the week. She also showed me a bruise the size of my palm from accidentally getting thrown back against a hook on the outside of the bus this morning. Before her and Melissa went on their tour of Kibera, they went to a medical clinic to have the scrape washed out and to get some antibiotics. Later that night, they told stories of their experiences as social workers, and it's so difficult to imagine the traumatizing situations of incest and abuse they described occurring in modern society. They woke up around 6:15am, but I barely heard them.

Friday was my third to last day off work, and wen I walked to work, it seemed more people than usual said hi to me. One of them was my neighbor Sharon, but I was disheartened to see her stumble away after she waved to me, still drunk at 9am. I hoped her kids were at least being cared for. The weather was very beautiful as the sun had come out early, and I smiled when the men called out to me. I asked Josephine later what "Wanjiko" and "Wanjira" meant as they seemed to be using that to get my attention instead of the expected mzungu, and she said they were Kikuyu women's names, and I kind of liked the idea of them giving me a name instead of just yelling "white person." Of course, I've still gotten the occasional "Hey white girl, f*ck you," but those have been rare in comparison. My morning was spent at the Shalom House IT Center working on he Virginia Gildersleeve International Fund application as Josephine had a meeting to attend. The power cut out for ten minutes in the to and a half hours that I was there, but I managed to get a large portion completed. Josephine came back around 12:15pm and brought be a kebab as a snack, but we didn't leave until we argued with the guy running the place for trying to overcharge us. After winning our case, we walked to Dagoretti corner to catch a matatu to the Riruta clinic in Kawangare. The Tunza Family Planning tent was still there from earlier, but there were far less people crammed into the hallways. We were told to wait in the nurses office, and during the 40 minutes that were sitting there, I learned that there were no doctors at the clinic. There was a team of 8 or so nurses and three 'clinical officers' that function like physician assistants or nurse practitioners. They handle all TB diagnosing and medication, all ARVs for HIV patients, all pre-natal and post-natal care, and any minor illnesses. Only things requiring a specialist are referred to doctors in the hospital. While Josephine assured me this was a small clinic, I believe they saw upwards of 1,000 patients a week. After waiting for an unreasonably long time and seeing the very unhelpful clinic manager, we staked out in the hallway to try and catch the woman we had talked to earlier. She hadn't written the letter, and apparently couldn't tell anyone to tell us that before we waited for so long. She was upset that the DASCO office hadn't just accepted her stamp, and wanted to send us elsewhere if another stamp with a handwritten message didn't work. I know they have at least one computer there and it would've taken five minutes to do, but Josephine agreed to come back on Monday (thankfully I'll be at the school). We went then to the marketplace nearby to look for a specific gift I was looking for. There was no luck with the shirt, but I enjoyed looking at the endless piles of other goods and crowds of people. It was like Black Friday at American malls, but with the smell of roasting corn and women selling ice cream from hand coolers and men shouting out prices with surprising lung capacity. This is where all the second-hand clothes donated from affluent countries end up, and I saw a Tampa Bay Buccaneers shirt among the purses and underwear and dvds. Josephine offered to take me to another place along Ngong road where she was sure they had what I was looking for, and we took a matatu to the area called Adams Arcade. They did indeed have exactly what I wanted, and she even negotiated be a 100Ksh discount. I thanked her for her help, and we got on a bus to go back to the office. We hadn't driven far, though, when a motorcycle cop walked up to our bus at a stop and had the driver get out of the car. From what I gathered, the cop took the keys to the bus and drove off, but I could still hear the engine running beneath us. The driver and conductor then disappeared so no one could ask for a refund, and we walked the rest off the way back. When we got to the office around 3pm, Elosy was waiting for us and we took the slightly cooled of tea Josephine had brought that morning. They had an early surprise for me though, and presented me with a black and green wrap-around bangle that they had made for me and two beaded AIDS ribbon pins. If that wasn't enough, they then gave me my own kanga (the traditional colorful wrap skirts) that had bright orange and pink flowers and the Swahili proverb that translated to "Mother is a part of the family." I thanked them both profusely, and said that knowing I helped them was reward enough, but they insisted they couldn't have done the proposals without me (or without paying someone a good deal of money to help). Their kindness was overwhelming, and I'm really glad they agreed to let me take them out to lunch on Tuesday. On the way home, I received my second marriage proposal of the month. I learned early on that saying you're married wards off most unwelcome attention, but this man was persistent even with me lying about having a husband back in America. I declined his offer enough for him to get the point finally, and we parted amicably. I didn't get to eat lunch until after four, and then I started sorting my clothes into piles of what I was taking back home and what I was leaving here until Patrick came over. While I didn't give him chocolate as he asked, I decided to give him one of the smaller frisbees I'd brought, and we went out into the concrete courtyard to play. We were joined by two boys slightly older than Patrick and two older girls who also lived in the apartment building. I tried to teach them the proper grip for a backhand, but the little boys preferred to just turn around and hurl it like a discus. We all had fun, and I got to practice my throws a bit for the first time in over a month. A little before 7pm, I gathered Patrick and the disc to go in for dinner, but a few minutes later the others were knocking at the door asking to borrow the frisbee. Instead, I gave the girl who seemed the most interested her own, and she clutched in in disbelief before thanking me and running off. Storm Over Paradise was as scandalous as ever with some new murder plot on Imar and the ghost of the dead brother showing up. I went to bed late, knowing I didn't have much I needed to do in my last weekend here.

This morning I slept in until 9am, and then washed the clothes that I'd worn this week, but were planning to donate. Jeans are very tough to wash by hand because the fabric rubs at your knuckles more than usual, and your hands tun a bright shade of pink after you've rung them out. Doing the laundry wasn't unpleasant though, because I could smell the chapatti was making in the next room and she had the radio turned to some upbeat African religious music station. When everything was hung outside to dry, I had a lunch of leftovers and then started my walk to the cybercafe. The weather this afternoon is like those perfect days in December when everyone lays out and tans while studying for finals and you laugh at your friends up north who are freezing. I decided I'm going to make my much-loved Hummingbird cake for Margaret and Maggie before I leave, and I'm going to get some of the ingredients at Nakumatt later this afternoon. Tomorrow, I'm keeping my promise to go to church in the morning, and then I'm going to the Maasai market at the YaYa centre in the afternoon. I still have a few things I need to get people before I leave on Friday. See you all soon! Much love :)

Family Planning, Grieving, and Jewelry Making

Tuesday morning I was feeling a lot better, so I walked with Melissa to the corner of Mama Wahu road. She was teaching in the school today and I was running errands with Josephine. When I got to the office, Josephine was rummaging through the desk for something. She had apparently misplaced the original letter written to the Riruta Health Clinic about using their incinerator to dispose of our sharps. Apparently, we have to get an actual written contract from them instead of a letter for our VCT registration to finally be complete. The paper we already had was no where to be found in the office, nor was it at Josephine's house when we went to look there, so we went walked to the DASCO office at the District Health Clinic to retrieve the photocopy we gave them. It was especially busy today, and guessing from the medication cards I saw people carrying, I think it was a TB clinic day. During the initial intense phase of TB treatment, patients have to come back weekly to get their medications to ensure they are adhering to them properly. It made me laugh a bit to think about all the precautions we go through at an American hospital if someone is suspected to have TB (negative airflow rooms, and masks at the least), but everyone here was sitting close to one another and I didn't see any of the nurses wearing masks. The DASCO woman wasn't at work today of course, but another lady opened her office to retrieve the paper for us. I watched the rag-tag squad of soldiers drilling in the courtyard again, and I wasn't the only one holding back a laugh at their poorly exaggerated steps. Having the paper as evidence of the agreement that had already been reached, we caught a matatu at Dagoretti Corner near Junction to take to Kawangare. I sat next to the driver in the front and listened to Black Power rasta music while we waited for the rest of the van to fill past capacity. We got out in front of the entrance to the marketplace and walked the rest of the way to the Riruta Health Clinic. The facilities are large and in good shape compared to others in the country thanks to renovations sponsored by USAID through "the generous support of the American people." Today was apparently day 2 of 3 of a special family planning Tunza project conducted through the Family Health Network. About 50 women sat outside in a lecture area listening to a man talk about the different family planning options, and another 50 were crammed in the narrow hallways waiting for their turn to have an IUD or implant inserted. With so many HIV+ women in the community, family planning is finally coming into the spotlight as many of them are unable to take oral contraceptives with their ARV's. To prevent unwanted and risky pregnancies with their low immunities, the only options are using condoms (which the husbands will not agree to) or an IUD. Many of the clinics in the area are ill-equipped to offer the IUDs and they charge for the services, so a high number of women are ending up pregnant. Programs like Tunza come with trained personnel and offer the services free of charge, and I really enjoyed listening to one of the women working talk about what they do. Josephine got her contact information to try and set up a similar program at the District Health Clinic in conjunction with another VCT in the Ngando area. Unfortunately, with all the business the Tunza program brought, the head nurse that we had come to see couldn't write out the contract today and told us to come back on Friday. I will be really upset if we haven't gotten the testing kits before I leave. My last day working is the 14th, but I wouldn't be surprised if they still haven't accomplished this in the month I've been here with all the red tape. After we left the Riruta clinic, we caught a matatu back and walked to the Shalom House internet cafe so Josephine could scan the NGO registration and send it to the chairwoman in Australia. She apparently needed it to compile the minutes required to open the NGO bank account. On the way back to the office, we stopped at a clean little restaurant on the ground floor of an apartment building on Ngong road and got kebabs. They are a meatball typed spiced minced-meat in the shape and size of a sausage, dipped in egg, and then fried. Mine was very tasty, and I might try and make them some time at home. We worked on the Virginia Gildersleeve International Fund application for an hour before heading home for a lunch of leftover githeri (beans and undercooked corn with potatoes and carrots and cabbage). I decided to finally go get my extra Malarone from the pharmacy at junction this afternoon, and caught a matatu at the end of my street. On the way there, however, I realized I'd forgotten my credit card to purchase the pills with (they're about $2.50 or 170Ksh each). Instead of heading right back home, though, I wandered through the mall window shopping and eating gelatto. I also said hi to Melissa at the internet cafe and got some more jam, because the marmalade I had at breakfast was way too bitter to enjoy. After checking the movie times for this weekend and searching in vain for a sticker of the Kenyan flag, I went back to retrieve my credit card. When I was there I also got my last $40 to change into shillings and said a brief hello to the guests Margaret had over. While waiting for my fifth matatu ride of the day, a lady with brown skin and no front teeth introduced herself and her son to me. Her name was Sharon and she said she was my neighbor. The gesture was very kind, and I appreciated her simple desire to make me feel welcome. The matatu on the way to Junction for the second time was packed. There were 18 men, women, and children as well as a huge box the size of 3 people crammed into the 14 passenger van. We all arrived safely, though, and I made Forex my first stop. The guard standing in front of the money-changing booths was probably the most friendly person I've met, and he talked and smiled with everyone. I hope he's getting paid more than the standard $1-2 a day. After I got got 3,000Ksh for my $40, I went to a store called Mr. Price and looked around for a bit. The electricity went out 3 times while I was in the dressing room, but I got a really cute floral print shirt that was on sale. The sixth time on a matatu today was the last, and I was squeezed next to a man and his bicycle minus the front wheel. I've become addicted to the book I've been reading, and I got half-way through the 900+ pages before dinner. Patrick was feeling better as well, so I promised him (and everyone else) a Twix bar if he finished his vegetables. He didn't disappoint. Later that night, we watched some of the Michael Jackson memorial service being broadcast on all the news channels. It's amazing how many people are willing to forget how you molested little boys when you die if you led a successful enough life.

I woke up late on Wednesday, and we were subsequently late to the LocalAid office. The chilly morning air didn't help us walk quicker, but I did enjoy seeing my breath fog up in front of me. After Josephine finished sweeping, she helped me put the varnish on the beads that I'd made from magazine pages. I was so cold that that the excess didn't drip off, but stuck in clumps that I knew wouldn't turn out well. I was disappointed that my hard work wasn't turning out as I'd planned, but I hoped we'd get a few good ones out of a couple hundred. We took tea, and I had the triangle-shaped doughnuts they call mandaazi for the first time. Afterward, we headed out to begin our round of home visits in the Riruta satellite area across the railroad tracks. On the way, Josephine told us the story of an epileptic girl who was raped and infected with HIV by her father. Neighbors had alerted Josephine to their suspicions, but failed to testify to put the father away in jail. The girl was rescued and put in a home for the mentally challenged after she tested positive. Josephine still managed to pity the father somehow because he is now very sick, but Melissa and I were much less forgiving. Even if she didn't understand the words "rot and die in jail," I think she understood my tone. When looking for our first visitee, who ended up not being home, we came across a group of four mutt puppies. No matter what country you're in, puppies are the cutest thing ever and a sure way to brighten your mood. We then stopped at a local school to inform them about the behavior change and IV education program that LocalAid provides to schools. We signed their guest book and the principle agreed to set up a time for Josephine and Elosy to come and talk to the children. Following that, we walked along the paved road past fruit stands made out of sticks and tarp and a pile of trash four feet high being scavenged by a herd of goats. The women we went to visit were members of the beading program, and we were coordinating the group meeting tomorrow morning. The first one was a lady named Grace, and she had her young daughter with her hair braided with heart-shaped beads sitting on her lap. While they talked in Swahili, Melissa and I watched a kitten bat at the smoke curling up in the hair and chasing around a disembodied baby doll head on the floor. When we left, we went to another woman and met both her young daughter and her mother. I took a picture of water pump crafted out of a bicycle wheel and pieces of buckets that was outside of their door. We had one more person to visit in Ngando, and we headed back across the railroad. On the way, we met an older women who has clearly drunk by 1pm. It was worse, Josephine told us later, because the women is taking ARVs and complains about not having enough money to buy food to take with her medicine. She wasn't the only one starting happy hour early in this part of the slum, however, because I saw a group of 5 jobless men sitting around a bottle of vodka. We stopped at a stand selling the colorful wrap skirts printed with Kiswahili proverbs for Melissa, and by the time we were done it was already 1:45pm. We had just decided to go see the last patient on Monday, when we heard a heart-piercing scream of a child coming from the direction we were heading. A twelve-year old boy was wailing uncontrollably and his 15 year-old brother was sobbing quietly a few ways off. They were they sons of the man we had just decided to see on Monday, and he had just died. Neighboring women were standing around talking about who would care for the children until the relatives came, and who would contact the police so they could get the paper to take the body to the morgue. The children's mother had run off in January when she realized the father was very sick, and she had married another man in Kibera leaving the boys with their father. She was the second wife, and the first wife had died earlier leaving an older son who was very ill as well, but refused to get an HIV test. Josephine comforted the boy while Melissa and I stood by helplessly watching the display of grief, secretly and shamefully glad that we had stopped to look at the wraps and not witnessed the man's death. Josephine ensured us that the children would be taken care of, by relatives if the mother refused to return, and we went home. It was a very sobering end to the day, and I was once again reminded how lucky I am to have both of my wonderful parents. I also became frustrated with the African culture that refuses to punish a man who rapes his daughter, or turns a blind eye to a woman leaving her sons to care for their ailing father instead of attending school. I stopped by the internet cafe on the way home, but the connection was off and on so I went home. This was after I had finally bought a slice of cake from the delicious smelling bakery downstairs, and was sorely disappointed by it's dryness. I still can't put Shantaram down (unless we're watching Storm Over Paradise of course). Melissa did laundry, and when I went to show her where to hang her clothes, I saw two girls sharing a pair of rollerblades, one each. They compensated for the unevenness well though, and seemed to enjoy themselves immensely. Through the small people gate cut out of the larger gate of our apartment complex, I saw one of the largest trash fires since I've been here. It was made of discarded plastic and vegetable peeling and other rubbish, but the group of older boys were treating it like we would any bonfire back home despite the presumably unpleasant fumes given off from the plastic bags. We are so fortunate back home that it's almost unfathomable, but I don't think we are any more happy or less sad in the long run. Dinner was spaghetti with plenty of vegetables but no sauce, and I think I like it more this way. Apparently there's both a water and maize shortage in Kenya and the news stations are all talking about the government's inability to deal with it. I much prefer watching their version of "Top Comic" even if I can't understand half the jokes. After almost 4 weeks here, I'm finally going to bed at the respectable time of 11pm, and I feel like my understanding of Swahili is getting a little better. It hasn't improved enough for me to understand what the workers say to me after "Hey, mzungu" when I walk past, and I'm ok with that as I'm sure it's not exactly polite conversation.

Today was the beading program meeting, and Melissa and I left on time for once. She had bought some mandaazi from Nakumatt yesterday, and brought them to toss to the myriad of stray dogs that wandered the slum. It was pretty cold this morning, a lot like winter in Florida (so not really that cold) and I dressed in layers and my Florida Ultimate hoodie. I'd seen another white girl wearing a Florida sweatshirt jogging in he park yesterday, and I decided I should represent as well. Melissa and I spent the majority of the morning sitting in the hallway making necklaces while the women discussed techniques and marketing ideas in rapid fire Swahili. Most of my beads actually didn't look too bad, and the women were impressed with my first attempt at jewelry making. Grace, the woman we had met yesterday, was a master craftsman, however, and I am wearing a beautifully finished necklace that I bought from her as I type this.The meeting only lasted until noon, and Melissa and I were released early. I came to cyberworld, and she set off to meet her friends for their tour of Kibera. I'm still trying to figure out what to do on my last weekend in Kenya, but I'm pretty sure I'm going to the market at the YaYa center on Sunday after church. Only a week and a day left here, and while I'm finally feeling truly comfortable here, I am looking forward to being back home. Love you all, and see you soon!

Off to the Races

On Saturday afternoon, I began making beads for the support groups here because I didn't have much else to do. It's a good way to pass the time while watching T.V., and I've gotten pretty decent at it. I still have to try making the big, fat beads with the wrapping paper sometime this week. I also started reading this amazing novel Shantaram that another volunteer left here. It's about this escaped Australian convict who ends up in Bombay and starts a free health clinic, fights Afghan rebels, and runs illegal drug deals among others. I'm 100 pages in and highly recommend it. Apparently, weekend nights are for watching another Spanish soap, Catalina y Sebastian, and I went to bed relatively early after that.

I was excited for Sunday afternoon, because I had decided to go see the horse races that happen on Sundays just down the road. They exercise some of the ponies on the other side of Ngong road, and I've been determined to go one of these weekends. I was told the races started at 2pm (it was actually 12:45), so I made some more beads and read with Melissa in the morning. It's been pretty chilly here in the mornings and evenings, but the weather in the afternoon is perfect when the sun is out. There was no rain in site, so I dressed in a skirt and a wrap and walked the ten minutes to the racetrack. The gated complex has some upscale apartments, a steakhouse restaurant, and a golf course with driving range and pro shop in the middle of the infield. I was just in time to see the start of the first race, and my 200Ksh bought me a bench seat in the small, shaded grandstand area near the finish line. The track (and the surrounding area) was covered in a lush green grass that the horses seemed to like running on as much as the kids liked rolling around in it in front of the betting booths. I didn't bet any money, which was good because none of my picks won. In my defense, I was judging on who had the best conformation for show jumping, so I wasn't really looking for the winner. Their feet looked well taken care of, and I wonder who grows up in Kenya wanting to be a farrier. Maybe it's someone from Britain like the announcers, trainers, and owners. One of the jockeys was a tall white woman, and she stood out against the other short, black men. She seemed to ride the favorite in the last two money races, but came in second both times. I really enjoyed being here, especially watching the horses in the parade arena before the race, but it made me miss riding a lot. My saddle has been sitting behind my couch in Gainesville for six months, which is pathetic. After I'm done with college ultimate, I will get back into it, I promise.

I walked Melissa to the LocalAid office this morning, but didn't stay because I wasn't feeling well. We were supposed to make home visits to the home-bound HIV+ members of the support group, and I didn't want to unintentionally give them anything. I did meet a thirteen-year-old girl who is HIV+ from the Hanne Howard Fund that Margaret helps run this weekend. I gave her some Aleeve because she was having a really bad toothache and the person who was supposed to take her to the hospital didn't show. It turns out that she had extrapulmonary TB in her tooth. I have one more full work week and one more weekend here. I would really like to go hike the Ngong hills, but you can't go by yourself and even need to hire an armed guard to go with you in case of robbers and/or buffalo. Also, I promised Margaret I would go to church on Sunday... we'll see. Only a week and a half until I'm home. Love you all!

Catching Up...

Tuesday I was back at the school, and I brought them the soccer ball I had bought for them at Nakumatt last week. It went over really well, so well in fact that is was promptly kicked over a fence and had to be retrieved before the goats got it. I stayed with the oldest kids all day and we did multiplication of fractions and decimals until lunch. They had been doing it the long way (3 X (1/4) = (1/4) + (1/4) + (1/4)) but I said that was a waste of time and showed them how to just multiply the top and then the bottom and simplify. They caught on really quick, mostly because they liked the idea of less work. Decimals were a little harder as they didn't quite understand what the tenths place and hundredths place meant, but I think they know a little more than they did before. I had porridge and lunch with the kids again, which makes you feel a little guilty when you know some kids just wander around the village at lunch time because there's no food at home and they can't afford the 20Ksh for lunch at school. During lunch, I also gave Elosy the first aid kit that I'd brought since the school didn't have one. I think there might be a few more skinned knees now that they have a real ball to play with. English lessons were in the afternoon, and I asked the kids to write me one page about what they would like to do in the future. Out of the six of them, I think 2 managed to write more than 2 sentences and the grammar was questionable. Instead of marking them, though, I decided to play Hangman with English words. Once they figured it out, they absolutely loved it and even told the other teachers about it. I went to the internet cafe around 3pm and then spent another lazy afternoon reading and watching a movie with Patrick.

Wednesday and Thursday were both pretty uneventful. I met Josephine at the LocalAid office a little after nine and we'd talk for a bit, put varnish on the beads, plan a few things out for the budget proposal, and then take tea. After tea, we would head to Cyberworld and I'd type for 2 hours. On Thursday, the internet here wasn't working well, so an older gentleman offered to give us a ride to another place up the road. The complex it was located in had a hotel owned by and Italian priest, and he apparently used the profits to run an HIV center somewhere else in the community. There was also a nice restaurant, several white people, and a surprisingly fast internet connection. We were going to stop at the district health clinic since Josephine hadn't heard back from the woman about the VCT registration, but it was already after 2pm so we decided to go on Friday. Thursday afternoon was a learning experience as I did my laundry by hand in a bucket for the first time in my life. I scrubbed, rinsed, and then hung everything on a line outside to dry in the sun. It actually hurts your knuckles by the end of it, and I am even more grateful for the washer and dryer in our new condo back in Gainesville now. As Thursday was the last day of orientation for the group starting the first of July, some of the volunteers going to Maasailand had dropped their bags at our apartment while they were at the Animal Orphanage. I talked to one woman when they came to pick up their bags, and she was headed to the same village as Matteo so I told her to say hi for me. Besides watching Storm Over Paradise (Nicholas is going to marry Catalina because she told him she was pregnant when he is still in love with Imar. The baby is actually his younger brother Leonardo's though, and their estranged recovering alcoholic mother is in the hospital awaiting a liver transplant. So dramatic...), nothing exciting happened.

Friday was an errand-running day, and we started off by going to Karen to find out about the requirements for opening a bank account for the NGO. They weren't too strict, but Josephine is going to have to procure some meeting minutes and utility bills. I changed some money at the Forex since were were in a shopping plaza, and remarked at how different Karen is from Ngando village down the road. This place is catered to the rich expats living in the gated communities dotting the hillsides, while a short drive away people are struggling to put food on the table. I don't think the housewife wearing her Italian leather boots and putting her groceries in her Land Rover lets it bother her though. We caught the City Hoppa bus to the District Health Clinic to check on our VCt application status, but the woman has been out of the office all week. I think I've been to that place 4 times, and she's been there once. We walked to Junction and used their nice bathrooms and I inquired at the pharmacy there if they had malarone and took credit cards. Both questions were answered affirmatively so I don't have to worry about changing my anti-malarial meds. Afterward, we caught another bus that took a good 40 minutes to reach the center of Nairobi. We got off by the Grand Post Office and went in to inquire about the price of shipping beads to a buyer in Australia. It was about one tenth of the price than DHL, which made Josephine really happy. We then walked through the maze of streets, people, and cars to a store called Mara Fabrics. Here they sell beads really cheap, and Josephine got some smaller ones and clasps to accent the beads we make. I bought a kikoy, a traditional fabric wrap, in the colors of my bedroom, but I would have to finish the edges myself later. The prices here were really good and there was no haggling, which I enjoyed. Finally, we headed back to the bus stop around 1:45pm and got on the 24 back to Ngong Road. We had to wait a while for the bus to fill, and there was a deaf boy selling mints to passengers despite the "No Hawking, No Preaching" signs posted on the windows. I got off at Junction around 2:30 and immediately headed to Nairobi Java House to get some lunch since I hadn't eaten in 7 hours. I ordered a roast beef and cheddar panini and was brought a turkey BLT and fries, but I was so hungry that I didn't care. I also got a small chocolate almond fudge ice cream and a passion fruit juice and felt a lot better. Maria from Mexico was there with a couple of her friends and we talked for a few minutes about how our placements were going. She's actually leaving in four days, but she said she had enjoyed coming back and teaching at the same school in Kibera as before. After that, I went into Nakumatt to stock up on dessert for myself and get the ingredients for making cornbread like I promised Margaret. Butter here doesn't come in sticks, so it was a little hard to estimate half a cup, but I just got a bag of the flours and sugar since I'm sure Maggie will use the leftovers. I also got a magazine (which cost as much as the the food) and some wrapping paper and glue to try and make some beads for my own necklace over the weekend. One the matatu on the way back, I got seated up front which makes the off-roading and passing other cars a little more nerve-racking. I got home without incident, however, but realized I forgot eggs. Luckily, a little store right outside our apartment building sells them fresh (with some grass still stuck to them fresh) for about 8Ksh. I also learned that we had a new volunteer staying with us because she was unhappy being the only person at her previous placement. Her name is Melissa and she is a social worker from Canada. Apparently, she is also working at LocalAid, which they hadn't told Josephine, but I guess I'll have someone to talk to for the next 2 weeks. She was at the school today since we were in town, but she said she liked Elosy and the kids. I laughed when she asked if I had lost of lot of weight since I'd been here because Maggie feeds us so well. I guess Melissa went to Ghana a while back with a similar organization to work in an orphanage and lost 15 pounds. I also laughed when she brought out her straightener to fix her bangs, but to each their own. The cornbread came out really well even though I didn't even have mL measuring cups, and Margaret asked me to copy the recipe down for her. Leonardo was gorged by a bull due to Catalina's scheming on this night's episode of Storm Over Paradise, and his brain dead state makes him a candidate to donate his liver to his mother. I also watched some track and field meet in Europe (the Ethiopian beat the Kenyan woman in the 3000m) and resolved to seriously get back in shape once in get back home. I haven't worked out in two months and I haven't run since I've been here. I'm going to try and teach the kids to throw the frisbees I brought at school this week though. I was very happy to hear that my mom had a good 50th birthday back home :)

Today I woke up around 8:45am and I watched Maggie make chapatti after breakfast. The secret to why hers is the best I've had here is apparently mashed butternut squash added to the dough. I wrote down the recipe and intend to try that, along with the cabbage the and bean stew, back home. I read the magazine I had bought and tore out the pretty colored pages to make beads, and then walked here to use the internet. Happy Fourth of July everyone, and especially Happy Birthday to Arinn! I can't wait to have a make-up birthday/home-warming party when we all get back to Gainesville. Miss you all and see you soon!

Safari and Why I Hate Nairobi...

Jaye woke Lauren and I up around 6:30am to being our all day safari on Saturday. We had a camping breakfast of sausage, beans, and toast as well as some yummy Kenyan tea, and then the six of us piled inside our relatively trusty van with Ken. Our first site inside the park (besides the now expected herd animals) was a group of vans clustered around what we discovered were a family of 3 cheetahs. They were lounging in the morning sun, and walked right between the vehicles unperturbed. We then headed out into the center of the park, stopping briefly to take photos of a family of giraffes and for Jaye to use the toilet at a small airstrip in the middle of the grasslands. A minor mishap occurred when we ran over a very large rock. The six of us got out to push in the middle of the tall grasses, and thankfully we had gone a long way from the cheetahs we saw earlier. Crisis averted, we rounded the corner and came across the famed wildebeast migration from Tanzania. There were hundreds of thousands of wildebeast, every little black dot on the horizon was a living, breathing creature for as far as the eye could see. We drove right through the thick of them, and got to hear their incessant two-toned bleating as well as be half-heartedly threatened by a few of the males. It was crazy to think we were in the middle of something featured on Planet Earth, and the sheer magnitude of the event explains why so many people make the journey to the Mara twice a year. Our luck was about to get better, though, because as we drove over top of a hill we found four lionesses tearing apart a wildebeast they had captured. It was truly an awesome site, and hopefully I the video I took on my camera comes out. We stayed there for at least ten minutes, and when we finally drove off a ways we came across two male lions digesting after their wildebeast breakfast. They were just lounging under a bush trying to keep the flies off their faces (a male lion can sleep for up to 20 hours a day). Only one other van was near us, and when one of the males got up to find better shade, he walked straight toward their car. Both a woman and the driver rolled up their windows real fast. Afterwards, we continued south towards the Tanzanian border to have a picnic lunch. The site where we stopped was right along the Mara river and we saw a family of eight or so hippos just lounging on the bank or wading in the water. After lunch, Ken took us to another spot on the river where we had a walking tour led by an armed guard. I wondered how many times he had had to use the shotgun he was carrying, but there was no signs of lions, just hippos and crocodiles in the river below us. None of us had prepared for a shirt hike up the river embankments, but it wasn't too taxing in flip flops and a skirt. Following our excursion, we drove to a stone marking the border between Kenya and Tanzania to take pictures and joke about being in two places at one time. We then headed off pack into the savannah and saw a family of four elephants, two adults and two babies. I took at least 50 pictures even though the low battery light on my camera started flashing. Reluctantly, I agreed to leave, and we headed up a hill I wasn't sure our van could make. We all leaned forward and reached the top somehow, and a herd of female ostriches, 2 warthogs, and 3 buffalo greeted us. I was surprised at how large the buffalo were, but they seemed more concerned with the flies covering them then our car. After adequate photos were taken, we headed back into the open areas and were extremely lucky to spot a leopard up in a tree. They are extremely difficult to find, and 20 vans soon circled the tree hoping to take a picture showing some of the spots as proof. You could also see the antelope that he had caught and dragged up the tree, which was a difficult feat to imagine. We still had to see a rhino to catch all of the big five (lion, leopard, elephant, rhino, and buffalo), but he was eluding us and we decided to call it a day around 5pm. On the way out we were treated to a herd of 13 elephants in a valley below us, and that pretty much made my day. Hot showers were taken when we got back to the camp, and dinner was spaghetti, beef sauce, cabbage, carrots and green beans, potatoes, and fruit salad. Following dinner, I convinced Adrien, Sophie, and Lauren to pay 400Ksh each with me to watch the Maasai warriors from the near by village dance (it was 100Ksh to tour the village itself). We all gathered around the campfire and they danced around us, had a contest to see who could jump the highest, and then got us out of our seats to participate. We got to wear their colorful red blankets and danced in a fake little marriage ceremony. Later in the night, they explained some about their culture and what each of the dances meant and Adrien joked about having had a gay marriage. We all went to bed then because we had a 6:30am game drive before breakfast and leaving in the morning.

We were woken up at 5:45am on Sunday and headed out bleary-eyed and hungry to visit the park for the last time. Our goal was to spot a rhino (Storm guessed that Richard Branson was riding them somewhere, probably with naked women on his back). I won't deny that I nodded off a couple times driving through the sea of grasses, but we didn't see anything new from yesterday and we resigned to go home and get some breakfast. 80% isn't bad though. More sausage and eggs and toast for breakfast, and then we packed our bags and began the journey back through the dusty Rift Valley. I slept a lot in the car again, but there wasn't much to see. We stopped for lunch at another buffet style restaurant and a Maasai Village souvenier shop that was definitely meant for rich tourists. I managed to get a couple good prices though even though I am naturally against haggling. Traffic was pretty bad along the 2 lane mountain highway and we went around several semis lumbering up the road. We got back to Junction around 5pm and Lauren and I said out goodbyes to everyone and caught the #111 matatu. Of course I dropped the only thing I had bought for myself while letting someone out of the matatu, but I have since super glued the soapstone more or less back together. I unpacked, took a hot shower, and went to bed early as I was to meet Josephine at the internet cafe at 8:30am.

I woke up a bit too late and didn't make it to Cyberworld (yes, that's the name of the place) until 8:40, but of course I was still early. The internet wasn't working however, so we spent 2 and a half hours finishing the typing before going to another internet place down Ngong road to download the other tables. When we checked the NACC website, however, we found that the deadline had been extended. This was especially fortunate as we had called the District NACC manager this morning and he said he didn't know if the deadline was extended and that we should buy a newspaper and see if was in there. Glad to know that communication is key here. We were so relieved that we had another month to finish that we just checked our email and called it quits early. This was especially fortunate as Ariana and her friend Julia were coming in from GilGil to take the train to Mombasa for the week and I agreed to meet up with them at the Sarit Center (a westernized shopping mall in the Westlands part of Nairobi). Unfortunately, there was no bus or matatu that went from Ngong road to Westlands, so I took the 111 through horrible traffic into the railway station and then had to catch the 105 to Sarit. All matatus coming out of the railway station apparently charge a flat rate of 50Ksh regardless of where you are going since they know they can rip you off, but I made it to the shopping mall in an hour and a half and only got pointed in the wrong direction once. I was very happy to see Ariana, and she was very happy to see running water so we just walked around the mall. Julia, who just graduated from U of Alabama, also works at the IDP camp Shalom City, and they told me some horrible stories about misappropriation of funds (like the woman who cooks their food doesn't get paid) and threats of violence in the camp. Most of the children under ten are suffering from kwashikor (protein deficiency) and meningitis has killed a few people recently. We got gelato and I told them about the proposal I'm writing and we talked about the severe cultural differences in Africa. Thank goodness men in America are able to serve themselves food and polygamy has been outlawed. Around 4:30pm, we decided to head back before it got too late, and after asking a few people, we ended up at the matatu station where the 105 usually stops. Apparently, the 105 wasn't running at this time though, so we were ushered into another route by someone who assured us it would take us to railway. A few minutes into the trip, however, the conductor told us otherwise and we had a brief moment of panic before a good Samaritan on the matatu said he would show us how to walk there since he also needed to catch a bus. It was a very twisty walk through the crowded streets of downtown Nairobi, and thankfully our guide would turn around every once and a while and make sure we were still with him. We reached the railway station around 5:15pm and I said goodbye to Ariana and Julia and told them to enjoy the beach (It's been in the 50's and 60's here so I hope it's warmer in Mombasa for their sakes). Our helper waited for the bus with me, but apparently the 111 cost 80Ksh flat rate and we considered taking something cheaper to Junction and then catching a matatu. It looked like it was going to rain and it was getting late though, so after 15 minutes of waiting I decided to get on the next bus. I almost didn't make it on, however, because a crowd of people started shoving in the door to make sure they got a seat. I pleaded with the conductor "Moja?" (one more) and I got the very last seat behind the door and next to a young woman breast-feeding her child. It was a little worrying when we started taking side street detours to avoid the horrible traffic (an impossible feat), but we did get stopped to let the president's motorcade go by. We reached Ngong Road just as it started to pour buckets outside. With the rain, the dark, and the people we picked up standing in the aisles, I couldn't see out any window to find a landmark and know where to get off. I just told the conductor Lenana and hoped he would let me off before the forest, which even the locals don't walk by at night. I got dropped off in the middle of the downpour with no jacket and no umbrella, and the first thing I saw was a wall of trees. Panic set in, until I turned around and saw familiar sign in front of my road. I literally waded across the street, and trudged through the puddles of our dirt road until I reached our apartment building. To my dismay, the courtyard was a foot and a half underwater, but I figured it would at least wash the mud off my shoes to I dived it. It was a cold rain, let me tell you. I made it home safely though exactly at 7 and changed into the warmest clothes I had before dinner. I plan on telling Ariana of my experience when I see her next so she fully appreciates the ordeal I went through to hang out with her for an hour and a half. It was really good to see her, but next time I'm suggesting the place. Nairobi is not worth the hassle, trust me. I'll have to write about my second teaching experience and the rest of this week at another time, but I love and miss you all. Hope you don't mind reading all my run-on sentences :)