Two months presque gone by!

So I may have lied when I said I would post more regularly, as clearly that hasn't happened (the first France post is just before the slideshow. For better pictures with descriptions, go to http://myviewfromafar.shutterfly.com). So instead of trying to recap everything that I've done in words, I figured I'd go with a photo post, since that's probably far more interesting anyway...




Grenoble

Left: Grenoble! The view from the Bastille. Right: La téléphérique/les boules - ride 'em up to the Bastille.

Hike in the Vercours

 

Victory over the Vercours. Mont Blanc is in the background (ok, the kind of distant background).

Home in Echirolles 

Left: Chez-moi (chez Sémavoine, really). Very old house, although I still have to figure out just how old...  Right: My pets. Ducks and chickens.

The backyard jardin. Green beans, tomatoes, figs, apricots, etc. Also, when possible, the gardens are watered with a combination of collected rain water and water that has been used to wash dishes from the sink. My host mother, Nicole, is very water-conscious, which I guess is not that uncommon in France. To take showers here you have to hold the shower head, so I end up turning the water off when I'm washing my hair, for example, and then only turning it on to rinse. I might have to adopt that style in the US, too...

Voyage to Lyon!

Left: Fromage at the market in Lyon! Andrew and I took a trip to Lyon (about an hour or hour and a half away) to visit with some other Polar Bears who are studying there this semester. Right: Bowdoin in Lyon (Andrew, Claire, yours truly and Kaye); le Parc la Tête d'Or - huge, with a zoo, a lake, carousel (of course, they're everywhere here), big green spaces. Very pretty park.

 The view of Lyon from the Basilique Notre-Dame de Fourvière.

Annecy

Above: Annecy - also known as Little Venice (I think?) because of the canals that run through it. We took a day trip there with the CUEF (the language school here), and visited the Palais de l'Isle (an old prison - you can see it in the center of the photo, just past the bridge), the Basilique de la Visitation, and the Lac d'Annecy, where we rented a motor boat and drove it to the middle of the lake to go swimming.

Below: (left) Tartiflette - regional specialty made of potatoes, cheese and ham. With those ingredients, it's a little hard to like, but somehow I managed. (right) Later in the day I had to force down some more food. Life is tough. This is cookie ice cream and "fleur du lait" (eerily similar to "fleur-de-lis," non?) with chantilly (whipped cream), a little cookie, an a decorative toothpick. I'm not complaining!

Voyage to Provence!

Left: Abbaye Notre-Dame de Sénanque.

Gordes, a small mountain village in Provence. 

 

Rousillon, another small village in Provence. It's known for its mountains of ochre (below), which we decided to hike. Evidently the approximate hike time is based on the pace of older individuals, as we did the supposed 35 minute hike in about 17 minutes, going at a very reasonable speed. Or more likely we are just incredibly fit due to the massive consumption of bread and cheese (and, in Provence, the huge quantities of jam, rabbit, dessert, etc. that we were served by the very welcoming hosts at Mas de Pantaï).

 

PONT DU GARD!!!

The PONT DU GARD!!! Middle school Latin came flooding back to me when we went on a trip to Orange/Avignon and the Pont du Gard with the CUEF a few weeks ago. I had no idea I would be so thrilled to see a Roman aqueduct, but it's still probably one of my favorite sites thus far. We had a picnic dinner there and watched the sun set. Spectacular.

We also visted the Pont d'Avignon, and for those of you who don't know the song (I didn't, I'll admit), the basics go like this: "Sur le Pont d'Avignon, l'on y dance, l'on y dance; sur le Pont d'Avignon, l'on y dance tous en ronde". My new favorite song, of course.

 Randonnée in the Chartreuse!

Last weekend, Darcy, Teal and I decided to venture out on a hike to the Massif de la Chartreuse for a hike. Darcy and I had gotten an itinerary from the Maison de la Montagne in the center of Grenoble and picked up the map from a bookstore and plotted our course. Unfortunately it didn't start very well because the bus driver "didn't know" the stop we wanted (how is that possible? it's on the schedule?), and told us we should take the bus to the last stop. That stop turned out to be an hour walk (in the same direction we had just come from) from the trail head. After our warm-up hike we set off on the trail, unfortunately making a wrong turn early on, and not quite making it to our planned destination. But we still managed to get great views of the mountains (pre-Alps), SNOW (it even snowed on us briefly - maybe only 15 or so flakes, but hey, snow's snow), and the still-operating monastery. The photo on the right is the monastery, which is known for producing the liqueur Chartreuse. We visited the museum briefly before leaving, which described the lifestyle of the monks and the history of the monastery. The end of the day was just as exciting as the beginning, as the so-called "bus stop" didn't actually have any signs. So in order to stop the bus on its way down the mountain (it was the only bus until the next day), we staggered ourselves along the road and when we spotted the bus we waved out tickets (little receipts) and jumped up and down to get it to stop. Luckily it was a different driver and he was kind enough to pick us up. Also, we learned that hitchhiking might not exist here, or they use a sign other than the thumb. Darcy tried several times that morning and all she got were confused or frightened looks.

Voyage to Bourgogne: wine country!

Our second group trip was this past weekend, and it took us to Bourgogne. We stayed in the capital of the region, Dijon (yes, the mustard!). Friday afternoon we had a "degustation du vin" at the château Ziltener; Saturday we visited the basilique deVézelay in the morning and the château de Bussy-Rabutin in the afternoon (photo above). The château had beautiful gardens (or at least I would imagine they'd be beautiful in the summer), and even had a moat where, we decided, alligator races most certainly took place.

 Sunday we visited the Hospices de Beaune, which used to be a hospital. I thought it was very cool, although after seeing the tools for surgery and the giant metal syringes, I'm glad to be living in the 21st century. This photo is from the grand courtyard in the center of the Hospices. The other side of the courtyard is made of "noble" materials (stone), while this side was constructed primarily out of wood.

 Our last meal of the trip was in Beaune at the Auberge Bourguignonne. This was my second entrée of escargots (the first being Friday night), which is famous in this region, and it was delicious. It was followed by a main course of veal and vegetables, then a cheese plate, and then dessert of profiteroles on a plate of chocolate sauce (I tried to post that picture, too, but apparently I've reached my limit!).

I hope the photos give you all a better sense of all I've been up to here in France. The food continues to be phenomenal (except for that horrible pizza in Vézelay), and the travels incredible. Hopefully I'll leave the country soon (although not because I don't like it here). And hopefully I won't get arrested for leaving the country without my carte de séjour, which requires a chest x-ray (in the back of a truck, with a naked torso, in front of a random x-ray tech man), which I've luckily accomplished, and a yet-to-be done "medical appointment" which isn't scheduled until the beginning of November. And to think I found the original visa process a pain.

But truthfully all is going well, and yes, I am also taking classes, in case you though all I did was travel and eat. Aside from my language class I'm taking Art History at the Musée de Grenoble, Textes Littéraires du XIXe siècle, and Textes et Images.

Hope everyone is well wherever you are in the world!

A bientôt!

How to respond?

So since another post from France is long overdue but I have yet to write one, I thought I’d give you something to think about until the next histoire française:

This is something I feel I have to share. While I am now on a different continent and eating wonderful food and experiencing yet another unique culture, part of both my mind and heart are still in Kenya. I thought I had seen real drought when I was there. I thought I had seen the worst of it.

This evening I had a short Skype chat with a friend from Kenya. He and his wife just had a new baby a month ago. I congratulated him, to which he responded:

…He is doing well, although things are very tough her in Kenya now due to [scorching] sun.

When I asked about the drought, he told me this:

Things are very [bad] here now. Drought has intensified. Most families are starving but thank God we are surviving

How can I respond to that? To hear that things have gotten much worse is unimaginable to me. And then for him to be most concerned about me and my family and that I am studying hard – how does one react?

One part of me wants to pack up all of my belongings and head back to Africa, but another part of me forces me to ask myself what I could even do to change the situation. I try to avoid the overwhelming feeling that despite all of my concern and work, I am just one individual who cannot end poverty and hunger; I try to avoid that feeling of helplessness. Generally I think I have done well with that, knowing that there is still much to be done but that I am helping in what ways I can at this point in my life.

But when I realized that things were still getting worse in Kenya, I think it forced me to recognize the fact that since I left the country, I’ve let some of the realities there slip into the background of my memory. Perhaps even while I was there – I always had clean(ish) clothes, three full meals a day, water, whether purchased or purified, a bed at night, anti-malarials, even a computer and sometimes internet. Sometimes I think I used those somewhat normal things to escape the images I saw each day.

To escape the hand dangling over the bed at the dispensary, IV still attached, but body void of spirit. To know that she could have lived longer than 56 years had her family had enough money to take her to Naitiri to be tested and treated for HIV. Maybe I used the laughter and shrieks of children when they first glanced the “mzungus” to mask the fact that their bellies were distended from malnutrition and visible though the gap between their torn and dirty shorts and too small shirts.
Now that I’m in France, traveling and exploring and studying, things that seem frivolous in contrast to the problems the people I met face, it’s hard not to think, “So what am I doing for them now?”

Of course being in France is an experience I am enjoying and I appreciate having, and I am certain it will be just as valuable, although in perhaps different ways, as my time in Kenya.

So, how did I respond? I replied by saying:

I'm thinking of you and all Kenyans. I can't imagine what it is like now, since it seemed so bad when I was there. And to think that was months ago.

To this, of course, my friend said thanks and then promptly asked about my family and all that I am up to. How very Kenyan of him! When I told him I was in France studying he said:

Good. Work very hard my friend. [T]hat is great. God bless you

Suddenly, “I’m thinking of you” just didn’t cut it anymore. There was no promise I could make. I saw how immense the problems are in small areas of Kenya. I saw how difficult it is to help even just a few communities make progress. There is no one solution. And Kenya is one of the more developed countries in Africa. So what could I say? Honestly, I am not one to say God bless you. I admit that, in fact, I generally try to avoid saying it, even when someone says it to me. Of course, this is an entirely different conversation, but suffice it to say that this time I didn’t have any other words.

And to realize that my friend is living in a third-world country ravaged by drought with people starving around him and yet he seems more concerned about me in a first-world country, how could I react but to say “God bless you too?”

Kenya Summer 2009

Click here to view these pictures larger

I guess it's about time...

Considering I’m starting my fourth week in the land of romance (or amour, as we like to say here), I figured it was time I gave my adoring fans an update (that is, if anyone reads this). So here’s the lowdown so far, and I hope to update a little more frequently in the future, even if it’s more for me than for you!

I’m in Grenoble, France, a small, old city in the southeaster quarter of France, near the border with Italy. It is in a valley surrounded completely by mountains from three ranges that make up part of the French Pre-Alps: the Chartreuse, the Vercors, and the Belledonne. Coming from a state with small mountains and open ocean, this is a very different setting, and I was quite taken aback by the views at first. The Tour de France routinely passes through here, and despite all of the mountains, the city itself is entirely flat. Two rivers flow through it, the Isère and the Drac. Also, everyone rides bikes except for younger kids who generally prefer scooters.

I am living with a French couple that has hosted students for some 25 years. They have five grown children and twelve grandchildren, and couldn’t be nicer. A French university student, Éli stays here during the week, and sometimes another guy named Sylvain stays here as well. Nicole, my host mother, is a fabulous cook, and I have yet to be disappointed by a meal. She and my host father, Robert, have a big garden in their backyard that has provided lots of delicious fresh vegetables and fruits so far. Nicole turns most of the fruits into jam, and preserves a lot of the vegetables for the winter. In an attempt to integrate myself with the family, I’ve taken to helping dry the dishes after dinner (did I just hear my parents gasp, all the way across the Atlantic?).

I am a huge fan of French cuisine, as I had hoped. The French really do eat a lot of bread and cheese, which is fantastic in my opinion. It seems as though everyone on the street in the afternoons and evenings is heading home with a baguette in hand. In fact, today I even saw an older gentleman riding his bicycle home with his bread, a baguette sticking out of the small panniers on the back of his bike. It was so classic. I have to say, everything seems so French. Weird, I know.

For the most part I’ve been spending time with the other eight students in my group exploring the city and the surroundings. The first week we spent in the “préstage,” which was basically a grammar review class to prepare us for the language class placement exam. That weekend we went on a few adventures. The first was a trip up the téléphérique (kind of like a gondola) from the city up a mountain to La Bastille, a fort that overlooks the city. We went up on a Friday night when there was a free concert, which was very fun and a great way to see the entire city, especially as the sun set.

Saturday we went hiking in the Vercors range. What we were told would be a pretty flat and easy beginner hike was actually a mildly intense, day-long, very uphill affair, but an awesome one. We ate a picnic lunch partway up (my first French pique-nique! Although when I later recounted that at the dinner table, Sylvain and Éli quickly pointed out that since I did not have du saucisson, it was not a real French picnic), enjoyed spending some time with des vaches (as if I hadn’t seen enough cows in Kenya), and then proceeded to the summit. Talk about a spectacular view!

Since then I’ve been dying to get out on another hike, but I haven’t had a free weekend since. After a week of language classes and some more getting settled in, Andrew, another Bowdoin student here, and I went to visit two classmates studying in Lyon, Kaye and Claire. They were very generous and let us stay in their apartment. We spent most of Saturday at this phenomenal park, La Tête d’Or, where we had another picnic and then wandered around. The park had everything – a zoo with giraffes, flamingos, elephants (not quite the same as the Masaai Mara); it had a beautiful lake with amazing blue-green water; kilometers of walking paths; an underwater tunnel; a rose garden; you name it!

After so much walking I was looking forward to going to the soccer game that night and sitting down for a while. Of course, our seats ended up being in the super fan section, which meant standing on our seats and singing the entire game. Seriously. The enthusiasm was great, and I only wish I could have understood what we were cheering, since of course we had joined in by the second half, albeit with mumbles rather than words. Lyon was victorious and beat Lorient 1-0 with a later in the second half goal. Sadly, the Grenoble soccer team has not one a game yet this season…

We went to a great little restaurant for dinner. Many meals here are served as three courses: a salad, an entrée, and dessert. Can’t complain about that!

Sunday we headed up the hill to visit Basilique Notre-Dame de Fourvière, a beautiful church that overlooks the city. We walked down, on the way stopping at an ancient amphitheater, which was pretty incredible. It’s probably the oldest thing I’ve ever seen.

Andrew and I headed back to Grenoble that evening to start our second week of language classes. I’ve also started an art history class created just for our program. There are four of us in the class, and each week we’ll meet at the Musée de Grenoble. It’s a renowned museum, and I’m feeling pretty lucky to get to see it and learn about the art in-depth in such an environment.

Completely unrelated to school, I finally ate at my first crêperie last Friday. It was all I had hoped for and more! Can’t beat the incredible taste and astounding simplicity of a sugar and butter dessert crêpe, that’s for sure! I've also had a croissant, du pain au chocolat, numerous cups of chocolat chaud, plenty of fromage, and of course, lots and lots of pain (bread, not the English pain).

I ate very well again on Saturday when most of our group went on a day trip to Annecy and Chambéry. We spent most of the time in Annecy where, because this weekend was the Patrimoine, a cultural period when most museums and churches open their doors to visiters for free. After a traditional lunch of tartiflette (a potato, cheese, cream probably, and ham dish) and a little time spent digesting, we wandered over to the boat rental area to see what damage we could do. Turned out we could do a lot, as they let people rent motorboats. So, naturally, six of us piled into a boat and put-putted our way across Lac Annecy. Four of us braved the cool (not really, considering the Maine ocean temperature even in the middle of the hottest of summers) water and went swimming, which felt like a spa treatment to me. We all took a turn driving the boat, which was pretty exciting, although the limited horsepower was a little disappointing, no matter how understandable.

After returning to the dock, we made the trek up to la Basilique de la Visitation, way up on a hill. When we got there someone was playing the bells, which was phenomenal. The sound carried so strongly down into the city below. We went into the church and then climbed to the top of the tower just as the bell player recommenced. Standing next to the bells was cool for a short period of time; I think my eardrums are still recovering a bit.

Of course, no day in France is complete without du glace, and so after descending the hill we promptly entered a particularly enticing ice cream shop. I managed to stuff myself with “cookie” and “fleur du lait,” and left quite content. All in all, another great day.

Sunday was spent doing a bit of homework and finally exploring the area around my house a little. The house is very old (how old, you ask? I don’t know. They told me the first day but I have a very hard time with French numbers, so I think I’d better ask again sometime.), and it’s in a suburb right next to Grenoble called Échirolles. A bit of a distance from the city and the university campus, but it’s a very nice spot. I dined with Nicole, as Robert is out of town. When I asked Nicole last night where he had gone, she replied with, “Tu n’as pas compris!” Evidently Robert is gone for four weeks to some sort of spa-type place, which apparently is pretty standard for the French. Heck, I thought he was just going away for the weekend. As you can see, I have sadly not instantaneously become fluent at French. Maybe that’ll kick in next week.
Sorry for the length of the post – hopefully I’ll avoid this in the future by updating more frequently. We’ll see though…

I hope my ramblings find you all well! Let me know what’s up wherever you are if you want (ghyndman@bowdoin.edu)!

À bientot (since baadaye doesn’t quite seem appropriate anymore)!

p.s. I tried to add pictures to this post, but despite the fact that I am now in a first-world country with reliable wireless, posting photos still does not seem to work. I'll try to put up an album shortly either on this page or on my shutterfly site, which I might get rid of if I figure out how to put albums on Blogger... (myviewfromafar@shutterfly.com).

Back on American Soil (briefly...)

Back in Maine, to be more specific! While I had an incredible time in Kenya, and I wish I could have stayed for more than just two months, I have to admit that it’s pretty nice to be back home. The recap of my last week in Kenya is as follows:

Not much happened. Mostly just worked in the office, worked on grant proposals, worked some more on the bike ride project. I did go to Nairobi University, about a three-minute walk, when Hilary Clinton was in town and heard her speak and then saw her leaving the building. It was pretty exciting having her in the city. There were military folks all around, and when we walked by her hotel, the Intercontinental, one night we saw guards examining the engines of cars that were entering the parking garage.

We went to meet with the Member of Parliament from Mituntu/Assistant Minister of Education Honorable Kilemi Mwiria to talk about the Kilometres for Kenya’s Kids bike ride, which has been postponed until February or March. The government building he works in has padded walls, and wherever they had TVs, the channel was set to Kenya’s MTV equivalent I think. Interesting taste.

I’ve gotten much better at crossing the street, and Edward taught me a new strategy that seems to work pretty well: wait until an expensive-ish/nice looking car is coming, and cross in front of that one. This way they’ll either avoid hitting you because it will damage their car, or if they do hurt you they have enough money to pay for it. Don’t cross in front of taxis/matatus/cars that have clearly been in many accidents already, as they’ll all hit you and then probably run out of gas on the way to the hospital.

Last Saturday, Marion, Marla and I went to the Maasai Market. I was prepared to bargain and barter as necessary, but I can’t say I really enjoyed it. The market is filled with people selling their wares, items ranging from bags to fabric to jewelry to bowls. I think I still probably paid at least twice as much as I should have for most things I bought, and it wasn’t worth it to keep arguing to get a lower price. Interestingly they really are attracted to hair elastics. Even the men wanted to trade for them, oddly. I have no idea what they plan on doing with them, or if maybe they just took them so it seemed like I was getting a good deal. Regardless, I’m happy to be back in a society where prices are mostly set!

Marla and I left Nairobi on Monday morning to fly to Johannesburg, South Africa, where we waited for 8 hours before boarding our flight to Atlanta. 16 hours later, we arrived back on American soil! A quick flight to Cincinnati ended that travel saga. We spent two days there to finish up our work. I flew back to Maine on Thursday (of course, after smooth travels all the way from Kenya, my flight to Philadelphia was delayed, so I missed my connection to Portland).

I can’t really believe I was even in Kenya. I met so many incredible people and I feel so lucky to have met them all. I know that I’ve left a piece of my heart in Africa, and someday I will have to go back.

Thanks for reading the blog! It may or may not continue into the fall when I head to France (leaving on the 28^th; culture shock should be interesting!). I might even post a more reflective entry once I’ve had a chance to really think about the last two months! Enjoy the last few weeks of summer!

Baadaye!

Addendum to this post:

I am now sitting in Logan Airport in Boston waiting to board my flight to Zurich. I’ll take a plane from there to Lyon, France, then a bus to Grenoble, and then a taxi to a hotel. I’ll be in Grenoble for the semester studying French and hopefully traveling. I have to say my time in Maine was all too short, but adventures never wait!

Feel free to check out my photos from the summer at http://myviewfromafar.shutterfly.com/.

Thanks for reading and keep checking for updates from the Alps!

Nairobi Take 4

While staying in Nairobi is sometimes not as fun as being in the villages, there is still plenty to do here. Last week, Marla’s parents arrived from the US to spend some time in Kenya. I went with them to the Nairobi National Museum (I wasn’t sure if I should go because I was working on a proposal that was due the next day and wasn’t nearly complete yet, but then the power went off in the office so I took that as a sign and took off). Visiting the museum was a good way to sort of synthesize all of the different cultures I have seen so far, and to get a better understanding of their histories. Before the museum, we went to the Nairobi Hospital so that Marla’s mom, the VP of Nursing at Hartford Hospital, could visit an American patient with a serious spinal cord injury who is going to be flown back to the US. The crazy part is that the woman is being flown to Hartford Hospital. Pretty remarkable coincidence.

I have to admit my favorite part of the day was dinner. Honestly I can’t complain too much about the food here, especially in Nairobi where there is a variety of choices, some more American-like than others. But it seems that any time I order something American, the item I get is just not what I was expecting. But on Thursday night we went to a nice Italian restaurant. I ordered fettuccine with mushrooms and some alfredo-like sauce, and then had chocolate cake with ice cream for dessert. It was amazing. I hadn’t had any of those items for a long time. In fact the only ice cream I’ve had tasted like cheese, I swear. Needless to say I went to sleep that night full and happy.

On Saturday, we went on a bit of an adventure. There was rumored to be this hill where gravity goes the opposite way, so that rainwater flows up the hill, it’s harder to bike down than up, and cars in neutral roll up the hill. Edward had first introduced this anomaly, and then Marion confirmed and said she’d seen it on television recently. A couple of other sources agreed that they’d heard of it, too. I was not persuaded at all though. Obviously it was impossible. There was only one way to get an answer, and that was to drive to Machakos and see for ourselves.

Marion, Edward and I rode out, armed with some gas station snacks and a couple bottles of Fanta. After finally determining which of the many hills we drove over was the hill, we got out. A couple of locals greeted us, ready to show off their attraction. They first had the driver of the car go to the bottom of the hill, put the car in neutral, and see where it went. No joke, it slowly rolled up the hill. All the way. I have it on video. Then one guy poured water onto the hill, and again, with all seriousness, the water flowed towards the top of the hill again (I am still a little suspicious of that one, as I think there may have been a slight flattening of the hill at that point anyway). I even saw a bottle roll up the hill. There are trenches created by rainwater that come from the bottom of the hill before drifting off the side of the road.

The traditional story behind the hill is that two brothers married the same woman, and one brother’s house was at the top of the hill, the other’s at the bottom. Every week, the wife would switch houses to spend an equal amount of time with both of her husbands. Apparently the two men were not satisfied with this arrangement, however, and argued over it even after their deaths. The struggle between them continues to this day, but the brother at the top of the hill has thus far proven stronger, which is why things flow up to him.

I still am not certain I can believe what I saw.

We made it back to Nairobi in time to see a play, “The Morning After,” about a groom who deserts his bride at the altar because he still has not gotten over the death of his first wife in a tragic, somewhat mysterious car accident. Luckily the play was in English, and the few phrases in Swahili didn’t seem to hinder my understanding too much (at least I didn’t notice if I missed anything!).
I’m spending this week in Nairobi working at the office, and then I’m boarding a flight back to the US on Monday. I can’t believe the summer’s nearing its end, and that my time here is almost over. Right now I’m off to meet the Assistant Minister of Education with Edward, Pat, and two of the Kenyan interns. I'll probably try to have dinner with Hilary Clinton tonight, if she's available.

By the way, thanks for the post, Nat!

Baadaye!

Goodbye Mbakalo

While I’ve managed to pick up minimal Swahili throughout the summer, the little that I know has not always been helpful while in the rural villages. English and Swahili are the official languages of Kenya, but in each area people speak their mother tongue before either of those languages. As a result, everywhere I’ve gone I’ve tried to learn a little bit of the vernacular. Usually I only make it as far as “how are you” and “I am fine,” although in Mbakalo I did manage to learn the word for “peace/hello.” In schools here, students begin learning English and Swahili early in their education, although not usually intensively until after Class 3 or so. Apparently teachers greet students daily by asking, “How are you?” to the entire class, to which they apparently respond, “I am fine.” So, whenever we pass kids, no matter how far away we are, we always can hear a loud, “How ahh yoo?” Of course it doesn’t matter how many times we reply, because they just keep asking. Usually if we ask them the same, they can come up with a response, but the conversation ends there.

On the walk from the dispensary to Mama Anne’s house, we always pass kids coming home from school or outside their houses playing. We make a turn at one house where there are always at least four children around. They ask the somewhat entertaining but eventually kind of annoying “how ahh yoo?” to which we reply, “fine.” However they like to keep talking to us, but in either Swahili or Kibukusu (honestly I have no idea how to tell the two apart). So rather than letting a conversation pass us by, Filippo and I often respond in our own made up language that has absolutely no meaning whatsoever. The kids usually stare at us and keep talking for a moment and then get very confused.

Now we don’t do this to be mean, really. It’s just that everywhere we go it’s as if we are celebrities. When we pass a school near the dispensary, all of the kids outside run to the fence, ask how we are, and try to shake our hands. If you even mention the word picture (or “picha,” as that seems to translate better), you will be mobbed. It’s risky business out here. When Victor showed us his home, we timed it poorly and I think we passed every primary school student in Mbakalo. A big group followed us to his house and waited for us to leave to follow us again. One entertaining thing to do is to stop suddenly and turn around and scare the kids behind us. Again, I know it sounds cruel, but they all laugh after and keep following us anyway. At least we give them a little attention that way (I swear I love the kids here, even though it might not sound that way…). The last time Filippo did that, one girl had a look of sheer terror on her face until she realized he was just joking. It was priceless, though.

On our last day in Mbakalo, Simon invited us to his house to meet his family. His wife, Mispah, graciously prepared a meal for us, which was delicious, and we met all of Simon’s children. He has three daughters, the oldest of which is 11 I think, but he and his wife also care for one of the dispensary nurse’s daughters because she goes to school where Mispah teaches. They have also taken in one of the sponsored OVC from the area. She is 16 and in a much better environment now than she used to be. We played jump rope and they showed us games they like, and then they tried to teach us Swahili and Kibukusu. Needless to say I did not pick up much from them, but if I’m ever in the area again I think I’ll ask them to be my teachers (key words they tried to teach me were mud, grass, corn, and food I think).

We left for Nairobi the next morning, which turned out to be slightly eventful in the beginning. Wycliffe, the LMC chairman, offered to drive us to the bus station, about an hour away, in his car. He and Simon came over early to pick us up, and after breakfast we got ready to leave. First thing I noticed as I was leaving was a hen sitting on a chair inside the house all fluffed up. Filippo and I had been trying to catch a chicken all week, to no avail and with much embarrassment, and suddenly there was one just waiting to be caught. Mama Anne told us this one was ready for chicks and wanted eggs and was laying them daily on that chair.

While that was very exciting, the best was yet to come. We got in the car, drove for approximately five seconds; the end of the car was even with the gate out of the yard, when Wycliffe stopped the car. He and Simon got out, only to discover a flat tire. How they don’t get flat tires here every other bump I don’t know, but they changed the tire faster than anyone I’ve ever seen (so maybe they do get a fair amount of practice). The stall was worth it though, since little Eugene came over and we got to say goodbye before we left.

We took the bus, an eight hour ride, from Webuye to Nairobi, and the only real excitement there was passing a flaming truck in one village. Also I was leaving the restrooms at one stop and a lady from the bus asked me to hold her son while she went in, which was kind of interesting.

A couple of days before we left Mbakalo, it hit me that my experience in Kenya was essentially over. I can’t believe two months have almost passed, and soon I’ll just blend in like any old American. While there have been days where that was all I wanted, I didn’t realize how quickly time would pass. I haven’t been here nearly long enough to really become integrated with the culture, and I know I still have so much to learn.

I’ve been in Nairobi for a week now, so more from here shortly! Unless, of course, no one is really reading this blog, in which case I’ll just keep all of my stories to myself. Sorry if they’re boring anyway. The least you could do is leave a little post. It could even be blank… I was going to offer a bribe but I’m out of postcards.

Baadaye!

The Red Tie Church

This is the first-hand account of the most bizarre experience I have had in Kenya to date.

There is a big project going on in Mbakalo right now to dig and expand boreholes for water, and protecting springs. Water is a major issue everywhere (even in Nairobi), but sanitation problems are especially evident in the rural areas. SVH-Mbakalo is the overseeing organization for the project right now, and there were always meetings going on to address different issues. Last Friday, Filippo and I were standing outside the dispensary (just after one of these meetings had ended) when Francis, the Local Management Committee vice chairman, came over to us. He said something to the effect of, “So would you both like to come around with us tomorrow?” Thinking “us” referred to the LMC, and “around” meant to visit the water project sites, we agreed to meet at 8 in the morning (American time, we confirmed), and Francis assured us we would return by 10am to the dispensary.

Filippo and I were surprised that Francis was actually early on Saturday morning; in fact, he had to wait for us. As Filippo and I went out to brush our teeth, I commented on the fact that I didn’t think I had ever seen Francis wearing clothes different from his khakis, dress shirt and red tie. We left Mama Anne’s and headed toward Mbakalo market. Shortly after beginning the walk, Filippo and I both realized “around” actually meant to Francis’ church harvest celebration service. It was too late to turn back then.

We took pike pikes to the church (Okome was my driver, and we exchanged phone numbers so that I could call him to pick us up. I didn’t expect to receive phone calls from him on both Sunday and Monday, just saying hello), where we met lots of people mostly in white. The women wore these habit-like outfits that were basically white dresses with either red around the neck or a very small red tie attached, and then white fabric with red trim on their heads. The men, I quickly realized, all wore red ties. I finally understood Francis’ style of dress. However that was probably the last thing I understood throughout the entire service.

The service was going to be outside, and Filippo and I were given prime seats (at least we thought so) in the back on a couch. The service didn’t start, though. Instead, everyone gathered on the road, singing and clapping, waiting for the Chief Patron to arrive. Francis kept coming back to us saying, “He’s almost here!” At one point a truck pulled in filled with women in white dresses and with a loudspeaker on the top. One woman was singing into it, and everyone joined in. No Chief Patron, though. I think we clapped and looked confused for about 45 minutes before this white 4-wheel drive Toyota wheeled into the yard, driven by the Chief Patron himself. People ran into the seating area to see him and find places to sit. He finally got to the front and the service started. It was about 2 or 3 hours of singing, praying, listening to other people talk, and waving my hand and saying either “amen” or “halleluiah.” Of course, the entire thing was in Swahili. The only words I understood were “American” and “mzungu” I think. At random times the entire congregation would turn and look at us. Apparently the Chief Patron changed his sermon to basically compare Kenya and the United States. There were also a couple of times when everyone would stand and whisper/pray (Filippo and I just made whispering sounds because we were always surprised by these moments), and then everyone would clap. I still don’t know how many times you clap or what the rhythm was, but it sounded like everyone would say, “ETphonehome.” We had to get on our knees at one point and whisper, and then we were forced to go shake hands with the Chief Patron.

When the service finally ended, we though we were free (and we were already a couple of hours late to our meeting with Simon). Then Francis asked us to go into the house. We figured we’d just be saying hello or at most taking tea, but in reality I think we participated in a Last Supper reenactment. The Chief Patron sat in one chair and some of the important people I would guess sat on couches around the room. A few women brought out bowls and plates filled with food, which was first served to the Chief Patron and then offered to Filippo and me. I guess we were second in command, for whatever reason. The entire meal was basically silent, and people only spoke in a whisper to those around them. The Chief just sat in his chair as people served him. Then suddenly everyone stood up and did the clapping thing again and then went back outside. Apparently the service was quite over, and there was a brief final segment. Finally it really ended, and all the women loaded back into the truck, and the Chief Patron got into his vehicle (which had been scrubbed clean during the service) and drove off, with much fanfare.

Now I don’t know if I did the story justice, or if I conveyed just how bizarre the entire thing was, and it might be a long way to tell the story, but I felt it necessary to share as best I could. I don’t mean to undermine religion, either, but I think this just took the cake for the most unexpected and strangest event I’ve seen so far.

Baadaye!

Mbakalo! 7/16-7/27

(another multiple-posts-in-one-day deal, see below for the entry from Ugenya!)

Filippo and I arrived in Mbakalo after a long trip first in a matatu (at one police check they actually asked for Filippo and my passports, but I think the woman just wanted to see foreign passports), then on boda bodas (bicycles) through Bungoma to go to the grocery store with all of our luggage, then back on the slowest matatu with more technical issues than I could believe (i.e. the sliding door constantly fell off the hinges and had to be yanked back into place, the taillight fell off and we got pulled over by municipal police or something, and they took the keys until the light was fixed), and eventually on pike pikes (motorcycles) to the Mbakalo/SOTENI dispensary. After a very brief tour, the SOTENI Village of Hope – Mbakalo Chairman, Wycliffe, drove us in his car to Mama Anne’s house, where we’ve spent the week.

We quickly got to know her grandsons, Lionel, Nickson, Ian and Eugene. They can be entertaining and funny and then they can become obnoxious very quickly, but it’s nice to have kids around. Recently they have been attacking us demanding sweets, which we don’t have. This is going to sound cruel, but yesterday Filippo and I wrapped pebbles in paper and the next time they ask for candy they may be in for a bit of a surprise… You have to understand that when I say they attack us for sweets, I mean literally coming at us and pulling at my backpack and digging into Filippo's pockets in search of tiny pieces of candy. We are just taking measures necessary to keep ourselves safe.

Mama Anne and her family have been incredibly welcoming to us. As we sat at the dinner table the other night, I couldn’t help but think what I had ever done to deserve such wonderful company. While I don’t know how much more of the chapatti/green grams dinner I can stomach, I cannot complain at all about the hospitality.

One aspect of the accommodations that has presented several challenges is the presence of GIGANTIC spiders. They come out at night and lurk near the ceiling, waiting to attack us. Granted they tend to stay up at the ceiling and don’t actually bother us, it is still somewhat terrifying. I didn’t have a big problem with spiders until I spent time with both Mo and Filippo, who seem to suffer from mild arachnophobia (Filippo also seems to fear anything insect-like that crawls or flies, although he is slowly overcoming that). One night we came in from brushing out teeth by the latrines (also an experience because the spiders appear there at night as well and you feel very vulnerable to their penetrating eyes), and I jokingly shined my headlamp on a little insect on the ceiling. In turning to look at it, Filippo shined his light on the most MASSIVE spider I have seen to date, I think. I saw it first and was surprised enough to yell a little, and then he was startled, which in turn made me so scared that I bolted to my room, in the process running into the edge of the door with my knee. The dash is all a blur and all I know is somehow I ended up on my bed holding my bruised knee and laughing uncontrollably. Filippo had made it safely to his room, where I could hear frequent gasps as he laughed uncontrollably. I can’t believe we didn’t wake anyone else up. We saw the spider the next day, and being such accommodating hosts, Eunice, the woman who cares for the house, took a broom to the spider. I am doubtful that it died, though, since we couldn’t find it after the strike. Needless to say I am very alert these days and I examine the edges of my ceiling before bed and before getting up in the morning.

While the spiders have been distracting, we have managed to spend every day at the dispensary. Unfortunately, we haven’t really gotten any of our assignments done, since the coordinator, Simon, seems to have a different schedule (and somehow lost the timetable we made earlier in the week). We have done a lot here, though. We spent one day visiting clients of some of the AIDS Barefoot Doctors, which was certainly eye-opening. The first client we visited was one that Mo had seen during his stay in Mbakalo. During that visit, the client, a 21-year-old boy who contracted HIV while nursing his father who was dying of AIDS, was not even able to sit up on his own. All of his food and medications had to be crushed up for him to eat.

When Mo was leaving, he took a bag of protein powder he had brought but not used and asked that we bring it to Mbakalo for this client. When we visited, I was still shocked to see his condition, but the progress he had made was also encouraging. With help he could get into a sitting position and then sit unassisted for a time, although he still spends most of his time in bed. He cannot speak nor make eye contact, and while his mother told us he tries to speak when his young siblings visit, the only sounds he made while we were there were deep laughs occasionally. He has been started on ARVs, which is good, and he is beginning to be able to feed himself again. Regardless, it was hard to see. I didn’t know what to say or how to help. He is only one year older than I am. He hasn’t even finished secondary school. I don’t know enough about ARVs to know what his prognosis is, but I hope that he has a future outside of that one room in his family’s mud hut. Now I feel like I understand what it means to be losing an entire generation at the hands of this preventable yet incurable disease.

To end on a lighter note, today I introduced some of the dispensary staff to the iPod. Filippo and I have become good friends with Victor, the dispensary accountant. I promised him I’d share a little American music, and I finally remembered to bring it today. I wish I had the patience to post the pictures here because it was hilarious. It didn’t matter at all what song came on, they were all was “so nice” and he started doing these dance moves and then he put his sunglasses on and when people came in to talk to him he just couldn’t be bothered to answer right away. Everyone else got a kick out of it, too. I’m happy to be able to introduce such refined culture to Mbakalo!

Baadaye!

Ugenya 7/9-7.16

Filippo and I traveled to Ugenya, my second SOTENI Village of Hope, and spent a week there. We did more OVC reports, visiting ten sponsored children with Calvin, the Coordinator. Instead of staying with a family this time, though, we stayed in a hotel called Camunya. I am still confused about how this nice hotel in the middle of rural Kenya manages to continue to operate, but I’m glad it does. One of our assignments while in Ugenya was to, “just eat fish.” So, because we are such diligent workers, we managed to eat fish for dinner about six of the seven nights we spent there. Ugenya is relatively close to Lake Victoria, so I guess they get a lot of fresh fish. We did have to master some timing techniques when ordering, though, since they cooked everything freshly and it took about an hour to get our food. I should clarify that when I say they served fish, I mean the entire fish, eyes and all. Logically, when Marla and Pat, two other interns, joined us in Ugenya, Pat and I decided it was necessary to try the fish eyes, having already sampled the gills. After I carefully extracted one eye, Marla, who was sitting next to me, got spooked by a bat flying through the dining tent, which then caused me to jump and hurl the eye ball to the ground. Luckily, this fish had two eyes, and I was able to extract the second and toast with Pat. Truthfully, it wasn't all that bad until mid-way through chewing I thought about the fact that I was eating a fish eye. Then it was pretty gross. Glad to be able to say I did it, though!

One of the saddest events of our stay there was my accidental murder of a very tiny lizard. It had been in my room for a while and Filippo insisted that I catch it with a glass and release it to freedom outside. Unfortunately for the lizard, when I tried to scoop it into the glass I didn’t quite get all of it and missed its head. Its eyes kind of bulged out and that was the end of that. After a brief memorial service beside the toilet, we flushed it to join fish heaven.

A separate assignment that came up here was an application to establish an AIDS Barefoot Doctor program in Ugenya. This is a program that is already set up in Mituntu and Mbakalo, and it provides home-based care to individuals with HIV/AIDS. The ABDs, as they are called, are members of the community trained in basic nursing care, psychosocial counseling, and HIV/AIDS education, among other things. The program is working well in Mituntu and Mbakalo, and those villages are actually applying to continue and expand their programs. Hopefully it will work out in Ugenya as well.

The OVC visits in Ugenya were very different from those in Mituntu. In Mituntu, all but one of the sponsored children attend boarding schools, so we did not visit any of their homes. In Ugenya, however, most of the students go to day schools. Visiting their homes was a completely different experience, and meeting their guardians was informative as well. One of the most striking visits, for me anyway, was to see a young girl who lives with her mother, a widow, and several siblings. I had read from a previous report that her mother was often sick, and there was suspicion of AIDS, but no confirmation. When we asked the OVC about her health and her family’s health, she mentioned that her mother was still frequently sick. Since her mother was in the room, I decided to ask her about it, without directly mentioning HIV. Surprisingly, she willingly discussed her HIV positive status, and her struggle to deal with the disease in an environment filled with stigma and an unforgiving medical system. She was so open though, which really shocked me because I’d heard so much about the stigma surrounding HIV/AIDS. I was immensely impressed by her courage and by her love for her children.

Her daughter, too, impressed me. Her English was good enough to communicate easily, and she walked us from her house back to the road, the whole time talking about how she wanted to be a doctor, but if she continued to struggle with physics, then a nurse. She was so curious about the US, too, and our education systems and my own dreams. I wanted to spend more time with her so we could keep up the conversation, but sadly a bus came and we got on to head back to Ugunja and Camunya. It was a remarkable experience, though, and honestly it is somewhat comforting to know that amidst all of the poverty and sickness there is progress and there are individuals with the courage to share their knowledge on culturally and personally difficult issues for the benefit of their community and country.

Since leaving Ugenya we’ve traveled to Mbakalo, a much more rural area but a very welcoming and beautiful place. More from here later!

Baadaye!

Maasai Mara!

(I just made a bunch of posts; scroll down to see them)

July 3-5

Mo and I went on a three-day safari in Maasai Mara, a park on the border of Kenya and Tanzania. While I was not thrilled about the price, it was well worth it. Our guide was David, and our driver was Douglas. We were the only two people on the trip, and we stayed at JK Mara, and eco-camp near the park. The “African massage” we got on the drive from Nairobi was quite an experience – the infrastructure here isn’t quite as developed as in the US. I now have a whole new idea of what a “good road” is, and we definitely were not on one for a good bit of the journey. Needless to say, when we pulled into our camp, which seemed to be in the middle of nowhere, we were pretty impressed. We were greeted by several Maasai who work at the camp (it’s owned by a European – Danish I think, but run completely by Kenyans), and were given wet towels (we weren’t totally sure what to do with them) and then a glass of juice (one of my favorite words to hear Kenyans say – “Ju-weece”). I was skeptical of the beverage, thinking it was some kind of local drink made of chewed plant or something, but it turned out to be apple juice.

They then showed us to our tent. The word “tent” here is kind of an understatement. It was basically a hotel room with walls that moved with the breeze. We were shocked! There was a sink, a flushing toilet, and even a shower that they filled with hot water when you wanted to bathe. We went to lunch and we were treated like royalty. The food was pretty good, too. Before dinner they would bring us hot water bottles bag things, which we had no idea what to do with at first. I stuck mine under my pillow, and it came in handy when my feet were freezing when I was going to sleep.

The whole camp is tucked in a grove of bushes with little paths to follow and nature everywhere. They use solar power to provide lighting, a gas refrigerator that costs basically nothing to operate, and eco-friendly toilets and showers. It seemed to be a very respectful way to use the environment around the game park. The camp wasn’t visible from the road, and while the accommodations were truly spectacular, in my opinion, they also seemed to be intertwined with the surroundings. You can probably tell I really liked it. It was very neat to wake up and be able to see the birds just outside the screen, singing along with the breeze that flowed through the tent.

The game drives themselves were incredible, too. If you’re looking to go on a safari, I highly recommend Finch Travels. Even though it was expensive, our guides were so knowledgeable and able to spot animals hidden in the bush that we saw our money’s worth. We got to see the wildebeest migration begin, and even saw great herds of them crossing a river (apparently a very rare thing to see. Many times you can sit for hours waiting for them to cross, but they’ll all be too chicken and they’ll just stand at the edge). They were everywhere, too! We also saw lions, elephants, giraffes, monkeys, antelope, gazelles, warthogs, mongoose – pretty much everything except the rhino and the leopard. The leopard is a very elusive animal, so we weren’t too surprised not to see one. As for the rhinos, there are only three left in Maasai Mara, a pretty disheartening number. David also told us that Kenya only has about 1.7% forest cover. While much of the country I’ve seen seems lush and filled with plant life, the reality is that there are serious environmental concerns that must be addressed in order to preserve both the country’s natural resources and environmental stability.

What we saw, however, was beautiful. Seeing so many different animals live peacefully together was incredible. Of course, not all of them live peacefully, and we almost saw a lion kill a wildebeest, but even just seeing them walk around and sleep is fascinating. Sorry I can’t post pictures, but I have about a million of them, and even a couple of videos.

So I think that was a string of five or so posts at once (look below if you missed them), so that should last for a while…

Baadaye!

Kilometers for Kenya’s Kids

While in Nairobi, my new traveling partner, Filippo (from Italy) and I worked on getting more done for the bike ride fundraiser to be held in October. After making some cold calls to each bike shop within walking distance that we found in the phone book with little success, we tried to look a little more on the internet. Just by chance, I came across a website for Extatic Cycling, a cycling club and a repair shop. I looked at their website, which had little more information than a phone number and a couple pictures of the team doing some long-distance event, I called. A guy answered, but I couldn’t understand him and assumed he didn’t speak English and then I hung up. When Marion, the business manager, came back to the office, I asked her to call him again, and she did and asked him if he’d meet with us the next day. Basically the guy on the other side of the phone knew nothing about us, and we knew nothing about him.

Next thing we know, we’re having coffee with two guys who have biked across Africa (yes, the entire continent, from Egypt to South Africa, riding for four months). Once we realized the experience that was sitting across from us, we started to ask what kind of experience they had with bike ride fundraisers. Turned out they had quite a bit. We went from guessing about how we would run our event to actually having more concrete plans. The cyclists, William and George, even took us to the bike shop they trust in Nairobi, a shop that sells used bikes in great condition. They were very willing to help us make Kilometers for Kenya’s Kids a successful event, and maybe, if we’re lucky, they’ll even join in the ride! If anyone's interested in finding out more information or donating, check out the SOTENI website (www.soteni.org) or let me know (shameless plug!).

Since leaving Nairobi, we’ve travelled to Ugenya, in the NyanzaProvince (Obamaland). I’m interested to see how the people here are reacting to Obama’s decision to make Ghana his first official Presidential visit to Africa. Maybe he’ll change his mind and come stay at the Camunya Hotel…

Baadaye!

More Highlights from Mituntu

(6/20-7/2)

- Tea. We were served tea, on average, about four times a day. I’m hooked now!

- Kendi. Anne and Barnabas’ daughter, Kendi, provided lots of entertainment. She is only 5 and in kindergarten, but she knows a fair amount of English (more than she lets on). She would point to things and say, “This is a…?” and I’d have to fill in the missing word. The funny thing is she would point to things like the modem for my computer, or the power cord, so she learned some random words to add to her vocabulary. She even taught Mo and me a little Kiswahili, but mostly she just laughed at us when we tried to pronounce things. On our last evening in Mituntu, Kendi and I raced outside, hopping on one foot, jumping, running, avoiding cow dung, etc. When it started getting dark I suggested that we go inside, and she kept insisting, “THIRRRRTY MINUTES, then we go to the house!”

- Creepy stalker? There was one strange event where a guy walked with us from the SOTENI office in Mituntu all the way to the Kirindine junction, about three kilometers. He didn’t really say much and didn’t seem that interesting until we stopped to wait for a matatu. Instead of continuing to walk, he stopped and turned around and watched us. He tried to get on our matatu, but Doris, being especially assertive, insisted that he not be allowed on. Maybe he was just heading in the same direction we were, or maybe not. Mo and I both agreed that he was a little bit creepy, and we kept looking behind ourselves when we got off the matatu.

- The Cork Adventure. Anne is a deputy principal, but she also runs a wedding cake business. Over one of the weekends she catered two weddings, and after one she ended up with a leftover bottle of wine. Apparently wine is not a big thing in Kenya, and there was no corkscrew in the house. So, using a little ingenuity, we tried to use every sharp object we could find to open the bottle. After about thirty minutes of trying, basically all we had accomplished was absolutely destroying the cork. They did acquire a corkscrew a few days later and we were able to open the wine. Truthfully, trying to open it was more enjoyable than the wine itself. And Mo and I had to drink full glasses of it two nights in a row. Luckily we’ve gotten pretty good at just swallowing things without tasting them, but this was still pretty tough.

- THIEVES! There was one incident of insecurity in the village, something that is not typical of the area (so I’m told). One evening a group of ten men, split into pairs, robbed five different stores in the market. They shot a gun in the air to disperse people, and were not afraid to use violence to get people out of their way, even beating shop owners and using knives to injure people passing. The police responded, but the thieves got away. In the end everyone was fine, and I think Mo and I were lucky to have been inside when the event took place, since we probably would have been better targets than the shop owners.
Throughout the whole ordeal, everyone around us was speaking in Kiswahili, so we had no idea what was going on. Every once in a while, Barnabas would tell us, “There is no problem, just some thieves, the police are taking care of it.” Honestly, since we only knew bits and pieces of the story, we weren’t too concerned. The funniest part was that we were sitting with one of Barnabas’ friends who only knew two English words, I think: “free” and “America,” but not in the same sentence. So he kept making the extravagant gestures and speaking to us in Kiswahili and we would just nod and agree and make up what he was saying. At one point he even stood up, walked around some chairs and a table and sat down, as if that was supposed to mean something to us. It was pretty hysterical.

- Night in the hotel. On one of the days I was visiting the women’s groups with Maria, the women’s group coordinator, we started a little later in the morning and had to visit some nine projects. By the time we got to the last one, a fish pond, it was dark. My photos of the pond basically just show blobs of varying darkness. When we finally left, we drove down to a village where Andrew, our taxi driver, pulled into a little gas station. He got out, and then got back in the car and we drove to a second gas station. Of course, no English was spoken during this event, so again I had no idea what was happening. At the second station, he got out again and I could only overhear and understand bits of the conversation he had with a man outside. I kept hearing the word “petrol” repeated. I got a little nervous when Andrew got back in the car and we drove back to the first gas station. Suddenly it all made sense – at 8 o’clock, all of the gas stations were closed, and there was no petrol to be found.
I couldn’t come up with any logical solutions, considering I had no idea where I was or how I could get home from there. Maria turned and logically suggested a hotel. Well, I guess this was logical for her, but not so much for me since I couldn’t imagine there were any safe hotels in the area. Little did I know there was one just down the street. We pulled into the back of the hotel, drove into a garage-like thing (the main reason was so no one would see a mzungu, but they kind of tried to hide that fact from me), and then went to our rooms. It was actually a pretty nice little place, and it did seem quite safe. It even had running water. But then the power went out at about 9, so I just went to bed and hoped we’d find petrol in the morning! (We did. I made it back. Don’t worry.)

There were many other interesting and hilarious experiences (particularly when Barnabas was around – he was very kind to us, and also made us laugh constantly, especially at dinners), but clearly I have written more than enough for now. Hope everyone’s enjoying summer!

Baadaye!

By the way – RIP Michael Jackson – have to say I was pretty shocked when I heard that on the news!

Tigania West Women's Empowerment Program

(6/23-6/25)

Visiting the Women’s Groups was both an empowering and frustrating experience. Several of the groups sang and danced to welcome me when I arrived, which was neat, although a little embarrassing. They were all incredibly welcoming and willing to discuss all aspects of their projects with me. The focuses of the groups ranged from rearing poultry to running cereal stores to stove building, basket weaving, banana leaf mattress making, breeding goats and even renting out plastic chairs for events. Some of them have ambitious visions for their projects, like building a women’s hostel or expanding their businesses to be able to access better markets for their goods across the country.

I had a lot of respect for each group and all of the members, as they have learned, with the help of SOTENI and a Danish organization called DANIDA, how to manage their own businesses, keep records, plan projects and write proposals. Each group hopes to develop profitable projects that will continue to develop and expand with time.

I’ve heard that it’s been raining constantly at home, which is a bit ironic considering here they've been suffering from a drought for the past two years, and so many people are struggling to eat even one meal a day. So many of the corn fields are dried out, and when I visited women's projects, I went to several (about six thousand) cereal grain stores, and every one of them is suffering from the effects of the drought. Aside from crops, people don't even have access to clean drinking water, or they have to walk for great distances to reach it. It's pretty sobering to see. To make things worse, for me, anyway, many of the women's groups insisted on feeding me and giving me gifts. I know most of it was that Kenyans are just so generous and friendly and giving, but that was difficult to swallow when I knew they were also starving. And I also know that many of them hoped that I would be able to bring them money, which was not my purpose at all, so some of them acted as though they could impress me with their gifts. I felt guilty for taking what little they had (even if I refused, there was no way I couldn't take it), and frustrated by their assumption that all white people have money and will give it to them. Even the man we're staying with thinks that; tonight at dinner he asked us to take a letter from him to the US to give to companies if we ever happened to come across one that might help his school. Of course we want to help, but at the same time we are not bathing in resources. But I guess that's just one thing I will have to resolve in myself while I'm here.

I received more gifts than I knew what to do with. Each day I came back to the house with bags of beans, giant avocados, ripe and unripe bananas, handmade baskets, a carving of a giraffe, a necklace, several calabash for drinking porridge, and once macadamia nuts still in their huge shells. My favorite was probably the banana leaf mattress that one group gave me. When we were leaving their project, two of the women got in the car with us and I figured they were taking their mattress and basket to the market and wanted a lift. The next thing I knew the women were gone and the mattress was still in the trunk. Luckily I was able to explain that I really could not take the mattress home, nor could I carry it around Kenya with me. I did somehow end up with their basket, though.

Another funny thing was when they would try to offer me handmade ropes. They would say, “Look, you can use this rope to tie up your cows!” Of course I would then have to explain that I don’t have cows, and that I couldn’t use the rope. They would immediately reply with, “Oh, well your parents can tie up their cows then!” And I even ended up with a little pouch that is used during planting to hold seeds. A lady demonstrated how I must tie it around my waist and then go about planting my seeds. Of course, when they asked me what I grew on my shamba (farm), and I told them that most Americans don’t actually have their own shambas, they would look at me like I was nuts. “Well then what do your parents grow on their shamba? Not even maize?!”

There was also one point during the three days of visits where I was simply tired of meeting women. So, as soon as my interviewing was over, I ran over to a group of kids that had been watching and asked them/mimed to them to see if they wanted to race. Eventually we were hopping/running/skipping/jumping down the dirt road, and we got back to the car far before the women's group and just kept going. As much respect as I had for the women, I think that may have been my favorite visit! So in all, the women's projects ended up being entertaining, frustrating, depressing, inspiring, and exhausting all at once.

Work in Mituntu

(6/20-7/2)

Sorry for the lapse in posts – after the poultry farm adventure we really buckled down to work on all of the projects we needed to accomplish. And the projects were numerous:

Bike Ride
Ezekiel, the sponsorship facilitator in Mituntu, is planning on doing a fundraising bike ride from Mituntu to Nairobi, approximately 270km. Getting details for this project was important because there is a team working on it in the US, and we needed to get information from the ground over here to share with them. We met with Ezekiel and Doris, the coordinator for Mituntu, to discuss logistics and the purpose of the ride. There are still many aspects that need to be sorted out, but we were able to get many details that were previously lacking, like who would actually participate and when the ride should take place. The funds raised from the ride will go to the development of a Community Resource Center, which will have books, computers and training classes, a cultural heritage center, and demonstration farming to help educate locals on farming practices for the area.

We also spent some time at the Resource Center location, where two buildings have already been constructed but are not really functional yet. We had a sort of a photo shoot with three adorable young kids to use to promote the event. They were perfect and did everything we asked of them. They deserved the lollipops and chewing gum they received as payment at the end of the affair!

Work Plan for CRC
While many preliminary plans have been discussed in regard to the Community Resource Center, we really needed to nail down some details. We met with Doris and discussed all of its functions, how to determine costs and where to look for additional funding. While Mo and I were a bit burnt out from working non-stop for eight days or so and were not particularly helpful (for example, at one point as I was distracted by a letter on the table and Mo was staring out the window, Doris stopped talking, put her head on the table and laughed, telling us, “I realized no one was listening to me.” Sorry, Doris! We really tried to pay attention!), I was able to write a preliminary proposed work plan recapping the meeting.

Sponsorship Manual
SOTENI facilitates a sponsorship program for Orphans and Vulnerable Children (OVC) in three of its Villages of Hope (the program is in the beginning stages in the fourth village). Sponsorship provides for school fees (applicable in secondary school; primary is free), uniforms (every school has uniforms), health care and food as needed (many of the children are at boarding school, and get adequate food there, but when they return home it can be very trying). It is a pretty comprehensive program, but as the children have gotten older and different situations have come up, it has become clear that a more detailed, concrete sponsorship manual was needed to make concretely establish the exact purpose of the funds, the responsibilities of the sponsor, the child, and the child’s guardian, duration of a child’s sponsorship, and other details. Mo and I met with Ezekiel again for almost two hours discussing a variety of questions, and we got his opinions on the role of sponsorship. Because he knows each sponsored OVC in Mituntu and understands their histories and personalities, he was a great source of information for all of our questions.

OVC Visits
Part of our responsibility in each village with sponsored OVCs is to visit all of them to get an update on how they’re doing. Mo and I spent two and a half days traveling around Mituntu (note: Mituntu is one of SOTENI’s four villages of hope. When they use the term “village,” they really mean huge area covering lots and lots of kilometers) to visit all nineteen sponsored OVCs. We met all of them at their schools, and we tried having conversations with them about how school is going, what they enjoy doing, how their health is, changes in their home situation, and current needs. While some were more forthcoming than others, I had loads of respect for each child. Most of them are orphans in some sense – many live with extended family as one or both of their parents have died, several from AIDS. They have grown up in unstable homes, not necessarily because their parents were ignorant, although that may be the case in some instances, but often because they were unable to afford school fees or adequate food. To read their previous updates and then to meet them and see how so many of them have changed for the better and are now allowed to pursue their studies without the burdens they previously faced is an honor. They were all pretty incredible, although I did have a favorite, I will admit…

Women’s Group Projects
While Mo spent three days working with the AIDS Barefoot Doctor home-based care program, I traveled around the “village” visiting something like 23 women’s projects that are being funded by a Danish group, DANIDA, in conjunction with SOTENI. The program has provided training for the groups to establish profitable, sustainable businesses to help raise their standard of living. This was an interesting endeavor. It deserves its own post/this post is already far too long! Sorry about that!

Thanks for the comments, by the way!

Baadaye!

PS- I have lots of pictures from Mituntu, but uploading them takes forever and my patience is waning, so you'll have to wait until I'm back in the US to see them. In fact, I may stop posting pictures in general because it takes so long and usually I lose the internet connection before I can even make the post.