Wowwowywowwow, pole
for not updating this for years!
I suppose it has
been a couple of weeks since my last post. How do I condense it all?
Work
has been very relaxed the past couple of weeks as I have continued to
observe, partake in events, and figure out my work plan for my
remaining time in Kakamega. I started attending HIV/AIDS support
group meetings. The first time I went, I expected it to be something
like a scene from Rent;
however, it was probably the most opposite of Rent
that I could imagine. The members laughed and attended to business
and I didn't actually hear one therapeutic analysis. The group I have
been shadowing is incredibly established, though, and is in the
process of setting up their new office. Tomorrow I will be attending
an all woman's group that is less official, so maybe it will present
something new. I have decided to turn my attention to the unfulfilled
medical referrals for the learners of one community school in
particular. It will be a difficult task to tackle, especially in just
3 ½ remaining weeks at this organization; however, I am looking
forward to the challenge, especially since it seems like I will
maintain my normal work schedule on top of managing this project.
I have
gotten better at accepting all the unneeded attention. Walking down
the street, I hear so many Hello, *mzungu, how are you?s
in the most over-exaggerated voices. For the majority of the time, I
accept that I am the local mzungu
and respond with a smile and a “Hello! I'm fine, thank you. No,
thank you, I am going by foot today.” however, there is one
instance where the attention is a bit too much. Sherry (fake name for
my supervisor) and I wanted to get some mangoes for lunch a couple
weeks back, so I suggested that we go to my friend's stand, my savior
from the rain. Surprise, surprise, Sherry knows the man's mother, who
was also at the stand. I had met the mother earlier that morning, so
she was even more excited to see me back the second time and with
Sherry. Now, though, whenever I return to the stand and the mother is
there, there is SO much pressure! Sherry said that the mother is very
proud that her son has a mzungu
friend. What?? I didn't even do anything! So now that the mom has
that pride, the man has become shy and embarrassed, and I become just
weird (and not in a good way) because I do not react well to so much
pressure. Oy.
Fun little diddy:
my host niece was using me as a doll again the other day and turned
me into her own personal piki piki! She just climbed onto my lap,
took my knees, and starting making whizzing noises and honking. Too
cute.
Mmm, I have also
listened to my coworkers' opinions and personal stories on many
different controversial issues such as homosexuality (which is
greatly looked down upon in Kenya...like, deathly looked down upon),
the not uncommon practice of polygamy, and politics. As difficult as
it has been biting my tongue, it has been very interesting hearing
what they have to say. I realized that I've sort of isolated myself
from other opinions...I find that I surround myself with people who
think similarly; so much, in fact, that I forgot that people with
other ideas exist! I think that I have a better understanding of the
way they approach certain issues; however, their viewpoints have made
me more concrete in my opinions, in a way. So that's good, I think...
Oh! I almost
forgot!
My
Kenyan 4th
of July
After a monotonous day of organizing the medicine cabinets at work
and social security fund projects and rushing home on a pikipiki, I
met up with ten FSD pals for dinner at a fantastic place called
Forest Green. On the outside it just seems like a run-down hotel.
However, it was actually surprisingly cozy and urban on the inside.
That night, the restaurant could hardly fit eleven people all at one
common area, especially since it was sufficiently crowded. So a
couple of fantastic locals shared their table and laughter with us.
They talked about their lives and I split an order of vegetable curry
with chapati and chips masala (a fancy way of eating french fries).
We then proceeded to storm Club Ripple in downtown Kakamega.
Holy
moley. This club. What words can describe this club? To begin, it was
bumpin 90s R&B while playing some weird desert storm movie on the
televisions that speckled the bar. Occasionally the Djs would play a
little Beyonce or Britney or Black Eyed Peas AKA the greatest combo
pack. If love at peace are so strong...my favorite was when they
played “Carry Out,” a song that epitomized my drives from school
to swim practice senior year of high school. I basically spent the
night laughing and seat-dancing (there were only three men dancing
and it was apparently just not the dancing sort of night for the
locals). Oh, I also saw a rat running up the speaker...Hilary (a
fellow intern) and I shared a look of disgusted and frightened
amazement, followed by disbelieving laughter. Awww, domestic party
rats.
And then also...
My Most Proud
Moment: Seconds on Guacamole
It has been suggested that we make dinner for our families at least
once during our home stays. The easiest—and my favorite—recipe
within my skills set is, of course, guacamole. I reserved a night to
make dinner and bought all the ingredients, which may or may not have
included an incredibly rainy trip to the market. I wanted to serve it
with beans and chapati; however, chapati takes a very inconvenient
amount of time, so I opted for rice. I intended to make it all
myself, but when I got home, my host cousin Michelle was making the
beans and rice already. Fun fact: this was her first time making
rice. And beans, now that I think of it. So I just went on my way,
chopping and preparing the guac. The tomatoes, onions, and garlic I
chopped for the green dish ended up in the beans without my
knowing...oy! So I rechopped new vegetables and such (and cilantro!
Yummm) and we enjoyed a garlicy-tomatoey-oniony goodness. I was
unsure of whether or not my family actually enjoyed it...they
kept saying things like “Mmm, it's sweet!” (because everything
good is sweet) but I was still skeptical because I have heard that
guac is either hit or miss with host families.
To my great delight, Momma Mary asked me to make the same dish when I
returned from work the next day. SUCCESS! This time we ate it with
gderi (beans and maize) and bananas. Ooooooweeee it was so good. One
of my favorites, for sure. Ah. Now I want it tonight...dangit.
The guacamole experience is just one instance that has helped me get
even closer with my family. It goes without saying that things with
them keep getting better and better.
Mid-Term
Retreat, Naivasha Edition: Land of Casual Zebras
Last Thursday morning, I headed out of Kakamega and off to Naivasha
with the rest of the interns and the site team (minus Peter) in two
spacious vans. Naivasha is about two hours northwest of Nairobi. It
is home to three beautiful lakes, a volcanic mountainish place to
hike, and Hell's Gate. Apparently, there used to be many Maasai
living in the area until a huge storm came and flooded the place. A
great amount of Maasai died from this flood; hence, Hell's Gate. This
is also the place where Lion King was based off of. We drove
for four hours without any problem besides the
overly-bumpy-underdeveloped road; we were all sleepy and in need of a
bathroom, so we stopped for lunch. After eating, we were on the road
again. We were chugging along, chugging along, until surprise
surprise, one of our vans got a flat tire. One second we were
whizzing down the highway; the next, we were whizzy backwards in the
shoulder, going the opposite direction of traffic to accompany the
flat-tired van. Our drivers changed the tire within twenty minutes
and we were again on our way to Naivasha.
Overall it took about six hours to get to Naivasha. After lunch we
had to drive through the town, past a copious amount of resorts, and
numerous greenhouses just to get pulled over by the Tourist Police.
They told us to accompany them to their station and we did not ask
any questions. After questioning the site team about our visas, the
reason for us being there, and a phone call to Peter, we all left the
station confused. The drivers were to return to the station after
dropping us off at the campsite. Apparently, it turned out to all be
okay, though. Oy, the life of traveling amongst so many mzungus...
We stayed at Fisherman's Camp, right at the waterside of Lake
Naivasha. There is a hotel with a restaurant and bar occupying the
bottom level, and a large amount of land for camping. We camped, of
course. There were tents everywhere, lots of benches, and incredible
sights. The place is notorious for hippos visiting its beaches at
night—it's chill, though, because the campsite is surrounded by an
electric fence to keep them out. There were also so many beautiful
trees, some of which have toppled over into the lake in a
disastrously gorgeous way. On top of that, there were huge swan-like
birds loitering around the dock and funny greenery living in the lake
with puffball tops. The food was delicious (we had our first pizzas
in over a month!) and there were more mzungus than I had seen
since Zurich combined.
The FSD Kakamega crew went to Crater Lake for a day; we thought it
would be a day of hiking around a lake, but it ended up practically
being a walking safari. As soon as we left our vans, a giraffe
welcomed us to the park with the most graceful, awkward, slow-motion
gallop. It was absolutely fantastic and a bit surreal. For the most
part, we spent the morning stalking three giraffes and followed them
to a field with numerous giraffes and zebras. In addition to these
great animals, we spotted warthogs, impalas, and backed away slowly
from a bull. A bull? A bison? Ehh, I honestly can't remember. It was
some large, gruesome beast.
We enjoyed sack lunches (courtesy of Fisherman's) under a dramatic
tree of either veggie burgers (bean and onion patties) or chicken
burgers with chips and chips and chips**.
After that, we hiked up a hill and down and hill, through the
gorgeous forest to a resort on Crater Lake. It was possibly the most
beautiful resort/setting I have ever seen! There was a buffet/seating
area literally on top of the lake. It was kind of like the Lake
House...
That night, two other interns and I saw three hippos out of water.
WHAT. So cool! There were two adults and a little one. We tried to
protect its privacy and keep the baby a secret, but people noticed
it. Oops. Then one of the hippos starting yelling at the other
one, scaring it back into the water. While all this was going on,
there was a cat lurkin real close to the hippos. Ah! It was so closer
to them, accepting its own fate. Thankfully, there were no cat
murders and the feline made it out alive.
The next day I went kayaking with two other interns. One of them
almost hit me out of my kayak, so that was good. But it was really
nice being out on the water, just the three of us. It was quite
secluded...also, summer isn't right if it isn't at least partially on
the water! The rest of the weekend, we relaxed, walked, chatted with
a few cool people, and played kickball.
One night I chatted a lot with the resident man in charge of tours
and such named Offin. Turns out, he is from Kakamega! On top of this
job, he has set up schools targeting Maasai children, IGAs for
HIV/AIDS support groups having to do with flowers and greenhouses,
and education on female circumcision. He also has a super cool purple
hat that says “SWAGG.” Therefore, he is great.
To sum it all up, the weekend was fantastic. So much wildlife, so
much beauty, so many great people, so much terrible music.
One last thought...
The Realization
That The Others Are Returning to Duke, Not Portland
It is beginning to get a bit odd listening to people talk about
hanging out once they get back to school since I won't be joining
them. Yes, we are just over half way and still have three weeks left
with them, but still. I've told them that if they can get me a killer
scholarship I would transfer in a heartbeat. However, I do not think
that is going to happen. Which is fine, because I like Portland
anyway. I do wish that I could bring them all with me, though.
*General
term for foreigner. It's not derogatory, but people often call me
mzungu to get my
attention. This used to bug me a bit. I used to think “Come on,
guys, I have a name!” Now, though, it is not bad. I like to think
I've done an adequate job of embracing the mzunguness.
**Keep
in mind that chips are actually french fries. Colonialism, doe.
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