One thing I’ve been incredibly grateful for in my time as a Peace Corps volunteer has been the opportunity for leisure reading. Prior to living in Kenya, I was always too preoccupied with a term paper, a reality TV show, or some other distraction to find time to sit down with a good book. Right now, I’m reading a beautiful novel now called “Their Eyes Were Watching God” and the opening lines struck me as especially symbolic:

“Ships at a distance have every man’s wish on board. For some they come in with the tide. For others they sail forever on the horizon, never out of site, never landing until the Watcher turns his eyes away in resignation, his dreams mocked to death by Time. That is the life of men.

Now, women forget all those things they don’t want to remember, and remember everything they don’t want to forget. The dream is the truth. Then they act and do things accordingly.” Zora Neale Hurston

So true, right?

Speaking of memories, last week, I attended my final Peace Corps conference, our Close of Service conference, and it made me recollect many of the experiences I’ve had over the past two years. While I have certainly had my fair share of low points on this emotional rollercoaster, when I think back, the amazing memories are what first come to mind. I am at a place where I can laugh at some of my most memorable misfortunes (falling in cow poop, being awoken by rats, attacked by fleas etc. etc) and fondly reminisce on the many fantastic experiences that constitute my Peace Corps service. In my present nostalgic mood, I’ve been thinking about all the things that I will so dearly miss once I leave the country in December. Here’s a list of all the things that I truly adore about Kenya:

The adorable kids: If you pick up random kids in the states, people think you’re crazy. Here, it’s normal for a complete stranger to hand you their child to hold for a matatu ride. I will greatly miss my village kids that greet me on the side of the road on my walk home from school.

Here's Peter Odhiambo escorting me home from school.

And these adorable boys that come to my house to watch me do whatever mundane chore they somehow find oddly captivating.

And Alice, my neighbor, who no matter what she is doing (even if she is mid-bath) will run to the side of the road to greet me in kiSwahili and shake my hand.

The mamas at the market: Women here are so strong. They are given an almost unfathomable workload from rearing their 10 children, collecting firewood, cooking, cleaning an ever dirty house, washing dishes and clothes by hand and more. I am constantly in awe by their fortitude and continual grace. Not only that, but many of my mama friends at the market are always smiling. How do you do that day after day of intense manual labor? I don’t know where they find the strength, but it’s beautiful and heartwarming. I will miss them kabisa (completely)

My students: I have said this before, but I would never be able to make it in the Kenyan education system. With a rigorous academic schedule, insane workload, and little sleep, it’s difficult to fathom how a student finds time to be a teenager. I am so grateful for my students who I’ve had the pleasure of watching mature and learn over the past two years. Little do they know that they give me so much strength and motivation. I know I would not have made it two years without them. Their laughs, their moments of understanding, their honesty, and keen discernment have given me the most fulfilling times of my service.

Here I am with my Form 1 students in front of their classroom.

My Kenyan family: I have been so blessed in my living situation. My nyanya (grandma) and babu (grandpa) next door have treated me like their own child. They introduce me as their lastborn child and have done more than I could ever expect or want. More than building me a western toilet and installing a rain water catchment so I don’t have to pump and carry my water, they have been my family. They are always there for me when I come home from a long day at school. They greet me with a smile, a warm handshake, a cup of tea and the chance to talk about my day. I am so lucky to have this extended family here in Kenya and I don’t know how I will ever be able to repay them for their generosity and for welcoming me into their family. I was a stranger to this community just two years ago, and without them I still may be. I am so thankful for my nyanya and babu and will miss them every single day that I am gone.

My Peace Corps family: It’s really incredible to think about how fast friendships form here. During training bonds formed quickly over the shared misery of learning how to perfect choo aim, eat matumbo (intestines) without gagging and struggle through acquiring a new language. I’ve never before met such a group of intelligent, hilarious, ambitious people as I have here. Two years ago my peace corps friends weren’t even a part of my life and now I can’t imagine life without them. I know that we’ll stay in touch in the states, but not just living a matatu ride away is going to be a huge adjustment. I will most definitely miss the hilarity of certain situations that only another pcv can appreciate: having giardia 12 times, choo malfunctions, matatu experiences, a shared disgust for ugali and the self deprecating humor that is often the only the thing that gets you through the rough days. I will miss you all so much.

Shocking me out of my nostalgia is the fact that I only have 68 (SIXTY EIGHT!!!!!) days left in this country and so so so much to do. I still want to finish the laboratory, I want the market mama to teach me how to make sambusas (so I can make them for you all in America !), I want to paint a world map, and I want to take pictures of all the adorable kids. So much to do so little time :) I never thought I would be saying these words, but here it is... Two years have flown by too fast. And I’ll miss you Kenya, kabisa!

If you’re looking for a vivid mental image, take a moment to read about my chaotic welcome home to village life in Kenya. I hadn’t been in my house for a few weeks as I was blissfully enjoying the luxuries of my American vacation, but coming back to my vacant house was a bit more dramatic that I would have preferred...

I stepped into my dark house, hesitantly and weary of what creatures had taken over in my absence. One foot in the door, I realized that my flea problem had yet to subside, and in their state of ravenous hunger (no dog/human flesh to feast on for three weeks!) they eagerly attacked my flea-bite-free legs. Whatever, I thought, I have come prepared with flea bombs for this pesky problem!

I proceeded into my room.

“Not too bad,” I thought. For being gone for a few weeks I was expecting much worse.

I opened my dresser drawer and noticed that something was off. My clothing seemed oddly nest shaped.

“Shit”

At that moment, a rat jumped out of my drawer OVER my shoulder and onto the floor. I’m sure he was equally startled at my looming figure staring over his newfound, cozy, home. Then, my hungry cat jumped into the chaos and started chasing the rat around the room. I started screaming, the rat started squealing and my cat started sprinting around the room. In all the noise, another rat flies out of my dresser and joins the frantic bustle that is now taking place in my room. I jump on the bed and watch as my cat chases two rats around the room creating a slightly hilarious, slightly disgusting game of cat and mouse around my feet.

After a few short minutes, my cat comes out victorious and drags her TWO fresh kills under my bed. As I calm down and survey my dresser for additional rodents, my cat crunches bones beneath my bed.

“Gross!” I mumble to myself. My cat doesn’t understand. She’s thrilled.

I do some cleaning : transfer the mutilated rat carcasses outside, sweep, open my windows, take a bucket bath, and survey what’s left of my rat eaten cupboard contents. My allergies flare up, I take a benedryl and drift off to sleep dreaming about my rat-free room in California.

Sometime in the late evening, I start to dream about a breeze blowing across my face. Am I in a beach breeze room in Zanzibar? Did I leave the fan on in my comfy room in the states? I flick my hand at whatever is disturbing my sleep.

“Hmmm, that’s weird. Breezes don’t normally scuttle,” I think in my half-lucid state of sleep.

I sit straight up in bed to find that I’m brushing at not a breeze, not my mosquito net, but a fleet of cockroaches crawling across my bed.

“Ewwwwwwwwwwwww”

And that, my friends, was how I spent my first day back in the village. While I know (and hope!) that my house can only get cleaner from here on out, it was quite a jarring welcome back to village life. As I sit here, slightly squeamish at the thought of being completely outnumbered by the number of unwelcome household guests, I reminisce fondly of my amazing vacation in the states. Here are some pictures from my visit home!

I was honored to be a bridesmaid in my best friend from college’s beautiful wedding. It was certainly the most gorgeous, fun, memorable wedding ever. They had a photobooth, fireworks, delicious food, and dancing! Here are the bridesmaids with the pretty hills of salt lake in the distance:

It was great to see friends from USC too! We all lived together our junior year:

I also was fortunate enough to have my longtime boyfriend come home from Afghanistan for his leave at the same time as mine. We went to Monterey for a night and enjoyed the beach, tourist attractions, and of course, the aquarium. Can you believe that these are seahorses?!

Did I mention that I brought my dogs back to the states? Well, I did! And it was a bit of a fiasco, but Nala and her puppy Kibo are now Kenyan immigrants. They had quite the time adjusting to American life. Who would have known that dogs freak out when first walking on hard wood floors? It was entertaining to watch them experience air conditioning, the ocean, dog treats, etc. for the first time!

Thanks mom for adopting my two Kenyan babies! I miss them like crazy.

I think one of the most spectacular things about the states is the FOOD! Seriously, there is just so much variety! I was in awe walking through the aisles of Whole Foods and Trader Joes. These stores are a stark contrast to my small village market comprised of a handful of mamas selling maize, beans, kale, and tomatoes. In the states, I remembered how much I love to cook, especially with the array of summer fruits and vegetables. I definitely cannot cook this breakfast in Kenya! Mmmmm …yum!

I did my fair share of eating. Maybe too much. I gained a spectacular amount of poundage in just three weeks. But, hey, at least it’s not ugali! Giant cookies, cake balls, frozen yogurt galore (one of my very first blog posts was about how I missed this), smores, and other deliciousness filled our kitchen. And this baby, a whoopee pie, is two chocolate fudge cookies sandwiching marshmallow fluff is something everyone must try!

Overall, my trip home was just what I needed. A necessary break from the sometimes chaotic Kenyan life and much needed quality time with friends and family who have been incredibly supportive throughout my Peace Corps service. Thanks friends + family! I miss you already!

Thanks for reading!

Xo,

Jenny

Last month, I organized a HIV/AIDS Awareness day for my students and community. It was a huge success drawing approximately 500 secondary school students and 100 community members in attendance. With the Bishop Abiero Girls’ Health Club and help of Nyanza Reproductive Health Society (NRHS), we were able to facilitate a successful event.

As per usual, the day started out way behind schedule. Approximately 4 hours after they were supposed to arrive, the NRHS workers FINALLY arrived (note to self; never ever ever expect a Kenyan function to begin on time). Approximately 500 students were in attendance from my school, Bishop Okoth, and Orando secondary schools. They started the day with a health talk for a Ministry of Health Official, Naomi, who discussed rape and sexual assault. The students were active listeners and asked sincere, thought provoking questions.

The main entertainment of the day was a football (soccer) tournament between students and community groups. It was entertaining to watch especially when a women’s group that had asked to compete arrived and consisted of mostly 50 year old grannies :)

Here, students and community members watch a football match

And here are the winners of the football matches with their gleaming trophies!

The students also presented HIV/AIDS related dramas, songs, and dances. These unveiled some talented actresses and actors! My students performed a drama on HIV stigma in the community:

Orando Secondary Students performed a traditional Luo song about HIV:

Bishop Okoth students performed a drama about risky behaviour that leads to HIV transmission.

Here, some children from the community enjoy the entertainment:

The day was a lot of fun and was very successful. NRHS performed 42 voluntary medical male circumcisions ( which helps to reduce HIV transmission) and 83 students and community members were HIV tested and counseled. The schools have already asked for another one to be planned for next year!

If any of you have the opportunity to go to Rwanda I HIGHLY recommend it. This tiny landlocked country known for its 1994 horrific genocide, as it turns out, is a spectacular place to visit. It is known as the land of a thousand hills and from the moment we touched down in Kigali, I could see why. Everywhere you look there is hill after hill of bright green scenery.

In a stark contrast to the littered and chaotic streets of Nairobi and other East African cities I’ve visited, Kigali is (gasp) orderly and incredibly clean! There are streetlamps that drivers actually obey. And plastic bags are banned throughout the country meaning that there is hardly any trash on the street. And not every single person on the street asks for money or a bribe. Wow!

We arrived in the shockingly clean city of Kigali and then travelled to Ruhengeri where we would stay the night before embarking on our gorilla trekking tour a la Dian Fossey. Ruhengeri was cold cold cold, not anywhere near the equatorially heat of my village. Anywho we spent the night here before waking up bright and early to go to Parc les Volcans to start our gorilla adventure. Enjoy the pictures!

At the park gate and with no real idea of what was in store.

Hiking through dense jungle foliage with no paths, only a gorilla tracker clearing the trail with a machete.

After 3 hours of hiking in the rain and cold we finally reached this gorilla family. It has 26 members including a few newborns and three silverbacks making it the largest group in the park.

Doesn't he look so human?!?! Gorillas and humans share so many mannerisms, it's incredible.

Clearly he is not as fascinated with us as we are with him.

Stretching for an afternoon nap. Looks comfortable.

Pondering life.

Swinging on a vine. A true tarzan.

We were charged three times by a silverback. The guides advised us not to run, but as you might imagine, it’s quite terrifying to be charged by a massive gorilla!

And, drenched, exhausted, and very much exhilarated, we received our gorilla trekking certificates!

The day after the gorilla trekking we went to see the yellow monkeys. While they are not nearly as thrilling as the gorillas nor as photogenic, they were pretty awesome! Here are some of the best pictures:

We headed back to the capital for some celebratory beers and American food. We also visited the genocide museum in Kigali which is a very moving memorial. It is astonishing to know that just 17 years ago a horrific massacre of 100,000 people in just 100 days ravaged the small country. How could such a thing happen? The stories of the genocide are disturbing and heartbreaking and appalling. May something like this never happen again here or anywhere.

All in all, our trip to Rwanda was a memorable and amazing experience that I hope I’ll get to relive sometime in the future. Anyone interested in joining me on gorilla trek numero dos? It’s definitely worth it!

Part of my April holiday was spent at Camp GLOW. Camp GLOW took place on the coast of Kenya the second week of April. GLOW (Girls Leading Our World) is a girl’s empowerment camp funded by PEPFAR (Presidents Emergency Plan For AIDS Relief) and facilitated by PCVs (Peace Corps Volunteers). Ok that’s enough acronyms for the day.

Camp GLOW, in summary, was amazing! There were 48 girls nominated by PCVs that attended the camp. Most of them had never left their villages before which led to some very interesting experiences. For instance, some students had never used a shower before ( I could see how a spray of mysterious water could be intimidating after a lifetime of bucket baths) nor a Western toilet. One student was terrified of an escalator and stayed on the ground floor of the mall she was visiting.

Besides exposure, the students learned some very valuable information about HIV/AIDS, female genital mutilation, communication, gender roles, self defence, achieving their goals and many other useful topics. Here, one of my students learns how to put on a condom correctly. We then had a condom water balloon toss to demonstrate just how strong condoms really are.

Many students have trouble buying sanitary napkins. This often leads to students either not going to school during their periods or prostitution for sanitary pads. I taught the students a method of making reusable sanitary napkins which will hopefully give them a longer lasting option than expensive disposable pads.

We also took them to visit a great NGO called Meeting the Goal Post which uses football (soccer) to teach girls needed skills such as teamwork and communication. Our campers played football, attended peer counselling sessions, and learned about the organization, as well as found interest in braiding the camp counsellors’ hair.

One night we had a bonfire with the campers. Don’t you remember having bonfires as a kid? Telling ghost stories, making smores, and cooking hotdogs are quintessential campfire memories of mine. Bonfires remind me of my childhood. For most Kenyans, bonfires remind them of cooking because why else would you use a good pile of firewood? We taught the campers how to make smores (my absolute FAVORITE food. Seriously, ask my roommates, I lived off of smores in college) and they in turn, taught us some songs. Not your traditional kumbaya or girl scout songs, but songs traditional to their different tribes and to Kenya. It was an enjoyable night spent dancing, singing, roasting marshmallows and of course, waking up the next morning with the smell of campfire smoke in my hair to remind of all that fun :)

On the last day we took the girls to the beach. What an experience! Some girls had never seen the ocean before and were absolutely terrified, fascinated, and excited all at the same time, to see the Indian Ocean. My student even brought back a bottle of ocean water for her classmates to taste!

All in all, Camp GLOW was a success. What started out as a timid group of girls became a lively bunch of individuals. I am continually amazed at just how amazing Kenyan youth can be. While the week was exhausting and incredibly hot (hello humidity!) it was also valuable, worthwhile, and memorable for myself, the other counsellors, and the campers!

P.S. Happy Mother's Day all you moms out there! And to my very special American mom, happy happy mother's day! I miss you!

To all my readers who have not yet given up on my sporadic, infrequent writing, I’m going to make you a promise that I will really try to keep: I, Jenny Nakata, will hereby write a blog post every two weeks. Feel free to call my bluff if I don’t.

Anwho, to recap last term, I would say that it was a relatively difficult one. You would think that after a year here it would just get easier right? Wrong! Things that I used to attribute to cultural differences ( treating women as inferior, caning, etc) I now have zero tolerance for. My bullshit-o-meter is honed to 0.00 and if someone tries to tell me that the bible says women should serve men and blah blah blah blah, I have absolutely no self control in holding my tongue. Also, if a matatu tout tries to overcharge me by even 10 shillings I go into a rant about serving his country for free, I’m poor, he’s a racist, etc, until he finally capitulates in sheer fear of the crazy mzungu lady who will go through the effort of fighting over 10 shillings!

You may ask, with all the things that make me want to pull out my hair and scream, why do I stay here? Good question. I made a list the other night and realized all of the things that I truly do care about here.

1. I absolutely adore my students. They make me laugh, they are inquisitive, and I want to see them grow up to be productive members of society.

2. I respect my principal and her vision for the school. I want to be here to help her achieve the goals she has strived so tirelessly for.

3. My village is beautiful. The stars are so clear at night, like I’ve never seen before. I can hike to see Lake Victoria. It’s green and lush and there are guava, mango, and banana trees everywhere.

4. There are adorable children everywhere. Where else could I go and pick up a random child off the streets without looking like a kidnapper? Nowhere. Some of my happiest daily moments are when my children friends greet me and walk with me on the way to the market or on the way home. They make me smile with their genuine curiosity and true happiness.

5. My dogs are happy here. They have open fields to run around and chase birds. They walk the two hours to school and back everyday and roll around in the mud. I couldn’t imagine a happier place for my dogs to be.

6. I appreciate feeling connected to my surroundings. I know that I used 30 litres of water yesterday or 1.5 buckets to cook dinner and wash my dishes. I know how many leaves of sukuma wiki (kale) I’ve eaten and I’ve picked the bananas straight from the tree that I’ll eat this week. Do you know how much water you’ve used today?

7. I enjoy teaching life skills. I kind of feel like the little elf inside of google’s search engine (there is an elf that does all that work, right!?) who smirks at some of the questions that people ask. “Madam, if you take birth control will you give birth to a cow? Can your vagina fall out of your body? If you sneeze in a plane will it cause it to fall from the sky?” I enjoy being able to answer questions that my students don’t have answers for.

8. People in the village know me now. They don’t ask me for money like they used to. Instead, I have enjoyable conversations with a good number of people every morning and evening. In the morning, I say hellos (yes, hello can be plural as Kenyan English has taught me) to the neighbors, the duku (store) owners, approximately 30 children on their way to school, the old women that sell fruit on the road and countless villagers along the way. In the evening, it’s a similar routine, many hellos, many handshakes, and then I meet and chat with my market friends: William an old friendly man, Dolphin who sells vegetables, Mama Beatrice, the butcher for bones for my dog, Rose who sells medicine, Lucy who sells omena (small fish) , and an elderly toothless man who fixes my shoes. On the way home, I often stop at my friend Emma’s house and stay there and chat before rushing home before darkness falls. Then I have a cup of tea with my grandma and grandpa next door. There are lots and lots of daily human interactions, something that I know I will miss when back in the states.

9. I love learning and practicing languages. I like being able to communicate in Kiswahili and while I still struggle with dhoLuo, what better place to practice than in a village of Luo people? Learning new words and phrases everyday keeps me on my toes.

10. Living here gives me an amazing opportunity to travel. Going to Zanzibar for a holiday trip or mountain gorilla trekking in Rwanda for the weekend is something that I can only do while living in East Africa. I love love love to travel and living here has given me the chances to do so.

So when last term was really rough and all I could think about was going home (not having to eat ugali everyday? Yes please!) the things that I appreciate about living here became all the more apparent. While I do really really miss people, food, cleanliness and easiness of life in America, I do also enjoy living here. I also had a busy month of April away from site (blog posts coming soon!) which made me miss the routine and serenity of village life. So now as I am sitting here with my dogs at my feet, trying to finish this before my computer dies since there’s no electricity today, I feel comfortable and at home.

Dearest Family and Friends,

Finally (FINALLY!!!) my Peace Corps Partnership Proposal (PCPP) has been approved and posted on the Peace Corps website. The proposal is for the completion of my school’s laboratory. As a science teacher, I can clearly see how the lack of hands on activities has a detrimental effect on the interest of studying of the sciences. How can students be enthusiastic about learning when they don’t know the practical applications? Finishing this laboratory and providing a place for students to develop their critical thinking skills is so important to me. But I need your help! The PCPP depends on friends and family (that’s you!) of the Peace Corps Volunteer (PCV) to donate towards funding. Once all the money is raised, the PCV (that’s me!) will ensure that the project is completed and not lost to corrupt hands along the way. Therefore, your tax deductible donations will go directly to my school! Please, take a look at the project at:

https://www.peacecorps.gov/index.cfm?shell=donate.contribute.projDetail&projdesc=615-185

And here are some pictures of the unfinished laboratory for your viewing pleasure.

Thanks for looking and a million thanks if you can donate!

Jenny

I think I’m becoming that crazy woman next door who only talks to her pets. And on the rare occasion that she does interact with any other humankind, she talks about, of course, her pets. So because I’m admitting my puppy obsession, it’s ok to talk about them some more, right? Here are some pictures of them. Aren’t they cute?!

And finally Nala's swinging boobs. Don't worry they're slowly retracting.

Living on the equator has its benefits. It’s sunny for most days of the year ( a plus for a California girl missing home). The day’s length is relatively constant (no confusing fall back, spring forward… or is the other way around?). And it’s pretty cool to live next to the Rotary Club’s “You are now passing the equator” sign. But it’s not beneficial during this drawn out drought. According to my school’s principal, in the four years that she has been in Magwar she’s never seen a drought like this.

My previous conception of drought included a TV reporter advising all earth conscious folk to water your lawn only once a day, changing the vegetable garden sprinklers, or my mom warning us to save water by turning off the tap when brushing our teeth. But here, in Kenya, a drought means something completely different. It means wilting maize, beans and kale crops therefore questioning a family’s ability to feed its children. It means dust covered foliage on the roadside. It means the rain water tanks are squeezing out their last drop of clean drinking water. It means the school’s seemingly endless well drying up leaving a few inches of muddy slush. It means school children wandering Magwar with jerry cans and buckets searching for a well that hasn’t yet met the same fate.

While we wait for the rain to come, I can’t help but wonder, what if it doesn’t? Of course, it will one day, but the scorching heat and thirsty students and panting dogs make me question the when. When will it come to save the parched crops? When it will come to change the dusty roads to muddy ones? Never before has water been such a continual thought on my mind. As I sit here looking up at the cloudless sky, I can only help that day will come soon. Soon enough to replenish our well, to provide drinking water, to quench the crops. Soon enough to make me wish the mud were dust. It will, but will it be soon enough?

*Disclaimer: It rained! It hailed! Our tank has water! I wrote this entry a week ago and now can gladly say that rain has come to our village. The buckets are under the rain gutters. The plants are dust free. And the people are happy.

After a somewhat rough start to school (who wants to go back to waking up at 5:30 everyday after a month and a half of pure vacation bliss?), I finally feel like I am back into the swing of things. This term I’m teaching Form 1, 2, and 3 Biology at Bishop Abiero plus all Forms of Life Skills. I’ve also arranged to work with other secondary schools nearby to teach Life Skills to their students. I believe this “optional” class to be seriously important, especially for an isolated Kenyan adolescent. Because of cultural taboo, children do not ask their parents or elders sex related questions. Because of poverty children cannot access books or the internet describing adolescent changes. And because of culture, children can’t even say the word condom without looking away embarrassed. Life Skills provides an outlet for all these pent up questions to be asked anonymously. I’ve heard everything from “Can you use lemon juice instead of condoms?” to “Can a man get a goat pregnant” to “Is there sun in America” to “Can lions change their colour to blue?”. Clearly, there is a lack of resources for looking up such questions. And Life Skills’ anonymous question box works at alleviating that. While I cannot return 12938403000 answers in 2.3 seconds as per google, having the education and background knowledge allows me to answer some of the student’s legitimate questions.

At Bishop Abiero, I’ve been working on proposals to complete our laboratory building and to construct hand washing stations near the latrines. Proposal writing is a long, slow, tedious process that I’ve come to loathe, but can only cross my fingers that they’ll go through. Be on the look out for ways you can donate (tax deductible!) through Peace Corps to construct our lab!

Last week, two other PCVs and myself attended an intensive language immersion for 4 days where we studied our local mother tongue of dhoLuo. It was tiring, but incredibly helpful. While I still feel much more comfortable speaking in Kiswahili, I’m glad to know much more dhoLuo and now have to make an effort to speak it. It’s a difficult language that I don’t find particularly beautiful, but nonetheless, it is the local language. So I’ll be practicing my bargaining skills at the market, greeting the swarms of children and conversing with the mamas in Luo from now on.

Next week I’m starting to work at the primary school by my house. I miss working with small children so the headmaster agreed to let me teach the lower primary reading classes on Tuesday mornings! I’m excited to be around lots of cute, smiling faces, but a bit nervous as my dhoLuo is not that great yet. If it goes well then I’ll branch out to the other primary schools in the area and maybe teach life skills to the upper primary.

I’m also working with the Nyanza Reproductive Health Society to plan an HIV/AIDS sports day in which the local secondary school students will be able to spend the day getting HIV tested, circumsized (for boys), competing in sports competitions, dance and drama competitions and attending health talks.

And of course, I still have a ton of puppies to keep me busy. They are adorable as ever, despite their constantly pooping in the oddest places (really, IN my shoe!). As they are slowly leaving for their future homes, I can’t help but feel a tiny bit of sadness. I want to keep them all! But, alas, I can’t end up the crazy Kenyan dog lady with 10 dogs following her around. So I’ll keep Kibo, Nala, Abby, and maybe another one…we’ll see.

This term will be a busy one, but I’m excited to be productive and stay motivated during my next year here!

Happy 2011 to all!

I hope that everyone had a lovely holiday season. While I would have gladly enjoyed sipping egg nog, listening to the Mariah Carey Christmas cd, and decorating a tree, my Christmas season was quite nice. A few nearby peace corps volunteers came to my house for the Christmas weekend. We enjoyed a delicious meal with my family next door. They, unlike the rest of my village, even had Christmas decorations! While the absence of cold weather and constant Christmas advertisements may have made this Xmas not seem too Christmas-y, it was being with my Kenyan family and good company that made this holiday special for me.

I was able to meet my neighbour’s youngest daughter Sophie who is coincidently studying in California and is back in Kenya visiting for the holidays. It was interesting to discuss with her the reverse experiences and adjustments we have had. While I’m getting used to ugali and choo usage, she had to get used to big macs and flushing toilets. Here’s a picture of us after Christmas dinner.

After Christmas, a few friends and I travelled to Jinja, Uganda, to go white water rafting down the Nile. I was initially very scared; the pictures of flipping rafts and class 5 rapids were intimidating. However, it ended up being very exciting and lots of fun. Here is a picture of our group before the adventure began.

The rapids ranged from class 2 to class 5. Some being mild, but fun.......

............and a few resulted in our raft flipping.

And here is a picture of us going over a 2.5 metre waterfall. Looks kind of like a Disneyland ride doesn’t it? Ahhhhh!

Now that the adventures/vacations/2010 are all over, it’s time to start school again. It’s hard to believe I only have one year left here. Sometimes it seems like such a short time and other days it seems like forever. At least I have nine puppies and Nala to keep me company!

After my travels with David and Peace Corp’s mid service medical examinations, (no parasites/TB/ African infectious diseases for this girl!) I rushed back to my site because my dog had given birth to NINE puppies. This large number would not have been such a surprise had my Kenyan vet told me that I could expect a litter of this size. However, he told me (after falsely diagnosing my dog’s pregnancy and telling me she was too young to get pregnant) that she would have no more than three puppies and I quote “but she will eat one so you will end up with ONE or TWO puppies at most.” Well, turns out that he, like most other Kenyans, told me what I wanted to hear, rather than the truth…funny how that applies to just about everything here from meeting start times, prices, puppy number, etc.

When I got the call from my neighbour that my dog had given birth to this abnormally large litter, she asked me, in all seriousness, if I would like her to “slaughter some puppies.”

“Um, what?!?!” I yelled into the phone

“Slaughter some puppies because there are too many”

“DO NOT KILL ANY PUPPIES!!!”

That is quite possibly the worst thing I have ever heard. Who wants to be a puppy slaughterer? And if I agreed, wouldn’t I be accused of puppy manslaughter? So, I unequivocally refused to allow her to commit puppy murder (which in my opinion, is up there on the morally reprehensible crimes list) and that is how I ended up with TEN dogs in my house.

While I may have recently felt my maternal clock ticking, all wants of children have been completed abolished after caring for nine pups. I have not slept a full night’s sleep for the past two weeks (did you know newborn puppies do not sound like dogs? Rather they constantly make a squawking noise like a dying flock of seagulls), I’ve run out of pc money feeding Nala meat, milk, and fish to keep her healthy, and I constantly smell like puppy poop. I definitely have a new gratitude for mothers.

But the joys of motherhood, or in my case grandmother-hood, arise from the precious moments: a puppy falling asleep in my lap, seeing their eyes open, witnessing a wobbly first step. So, despite my constant crankiness due to lack of sleep and my empty bank account, I’m thoroughly happy with all ten dogs in my home. They are adorable beyond belief and I’m glad I get to witness their growth.

Nala is a great mother. She is dedicated as ever and very protective of her pups. Note her luxury dog bed that I transported all the way from Nairobi.

They all sleep in one big fluffy puppy pile.

Did I mention that the puppies are adorable?! Here, they’re spooning in their sleep!!

I’m busy looking for good homes for all the pups. Hopefully some pcv friends will take a few and I know a couple Kenyan families who will treat dogs well. But this one, Kibo, is staying with me. He’s my mom and brother’s xmas present and will be travelling to America in August. Hopefully they love him as much as I do. Isn’t he so cute?

Alright, I have to go, I hear the puppies squawking!

I’m incredibly lucky to have an amazing boyfriend who has flown to Africa to visit me, not once, but twice! We had an adventurous vacation to Zanzibar, an island off of the coast of Tanzania. It is one of the three Swahili ports of eastern Africa and is therefore an intriguing mix of cultures. It sometimes did not seem like we were even in Africa due to the Muslim influence, Islamic architecture, palm tree lined beaches, and tropical cuisine.

Here are some of my favorite snapshots from our vacation. Does it seem to you too that most of my blog posts are about traveling? I promise you I do work (!) and your tax dollars are not being used to fund my holiday excursions:)

Before we started our travels, David came to my site and was able to experience life minus modern luxuries i.e western toilets and dishwashers. You can ask him about his fond memories of using a choo. Here he is cleaning dishes with my Kenyan dishwasher i.e three buckets. Note the bright green polka dot cleaning gloves :)

We then made a quick stop at Lake Nakuru National Park famous for its hundreds of flamingos inhabiting the lake. We also spotted giraffes, water buffalo, tons of baboon families, two white rhinos, and much other wildlife. Here we are amiss piles of flamingo poop. Can you spot them in the distance?

On our flight to Zanzibar we passed the infamous peak of Kilimanjaro that has so haunted me since our August climb. I really did get chills thinking about the excruciatingly cold and miserable summit day. While Uhuru Peak(the tallest point in all of Africa) seemed to be smirking at me from a distance I did feel a bit of satisfaction knowing that I climbed that beast of a mountain (I can say that, of course, from the safe and temperature controlled cabin of an airplane).

We arrived in Zanzibar and began exploring Stone Town, the heart of the island. It has endless narrow streets that you could wander for days albeit many of them sell the same touristy items. We meandered through the streets, stopping for street food, fresh fruit juices, and the occasional reprieve from the heat in air conditioned shops. To me, the most beautiful part of Stone Town was definitely the intricate wooden doors. Isn’t this one just gorgeous?

Forodhani Gardens, a waterfront plaza, transforms into a seafood extravaganza at sunset. There were tons of vendors selling fresh seafood on skewers that they would roast for you and serve warm with delicious coconut bread. We indulged in “Zanzibari pizza” aka a banana and Nutella crepe like creation fried in lard. Artery clogging, but delicious.

We spent one afternoon going on a spice tour in which we traveled to a spice farm located in the center of the island. We learned about, smelled, and tasted all sorts of spices from pungent cinnamon bark to the exotic tumeric. Here is some raw vanilla bean. Did you know it takes weeks of intense processes to produce the type of vanilla sold in stores?

We then enjoyed a yummy home cooked and coconut infused Zanzibari meal before heading to a secluded beach to float in the Indian Ocean. Pure bliss.

After two nights in Stone Town, we traveled to the eastern side of the island to enjoy the serene and isolated beaches of Jambiani. Our hotel (despite its perpetually late, incompetent, and completely stoned Rasta staff) had an amazing location. We were literally on the beach and fell asleep to the sound of waves crashing which is quite possibly the most soothing sound ever (at least in comparison to my norm of rooster crowing and cows mooing).

We spent our time here lounging on the beach, eating delicious seafood (mmm coconut curry prawns), befriending adorable children, sipping cold Tanzanian beer, gazing at the spectacular stars, and watching the gorgeous colours of the sunrise.

Each evening, the tide would go out as far as you could see. We walked through the tide pools examining the many spiky starfish and hermit crabs. The local women did the same, except they were in search of small shells with some sort of meat inside that they would undoubtedly cook up for supper. The shallow waters made it look like we were walking on water, quite a feat for someone who had just consumed their body weight in delicious sea food :)

One fateful afternoon, we decided to go on a dhow (boat) snorkeling trip. While we should have been a bit hesitant due to the boats obvious sketchiness (it was only a foot wide!) we decided to go anyways. We sailed out to sea before emerging ourselves in the clear blue waters of the Indian Ocean. I should note here that David has developed an irrational (well, maybe not so irrational) fear of water creatures. He would constantly spurt out facts about deadly sea animals citing shark attacks and other various recent and fatal tourist incidents. I assured him that nothing of the sort would happen here. However, not TWO minutes into our snorkeling excursion we were swimming through a swarm of jellyfish! I tried to keep my calm channeling Dory from Nemo (clearly David would be the terrified Nemo here), but alas, our trip ended with a slightly scared David and lots of “ I told you so’s”. While neither of us was stung by our jellyfish friends, I did spot a sea snake a bit later only to later discover it is one of the most poisonous snakes around! Yikes.

We returned from Zanzibar to spend an evening in the luxurious Fairview Hotel in Nairobi (thanks mom!) where we enjoyed all the Western amenities allowing David a mental transition before his flight back to America. And lastly, I provide you with a pensive picture of David possibly pondering his deep desires (whoa alliteration) to never again visit a choo, dreaming of America land of food sanitation laws, or most likely, he's just trying to have the camera catch his good side.

Despite our run-ins with deadly sea creatures, I thoroughly enjoyed our stay in Zanzibar. It was everything I could possibly want in a vacation: great company, beaches, relaxation, amazing food, and interesting culture. Thank you to an amazing boyfriend and a spectacular trip. And to any of you that have yet to visit Africa or East Africa, it has some seriously beautiful spots to explore. Karibu.

To all of you who are still reading my blog despite my prolonged absence my apologies for the delay. I’ve had a busy past few months and finally have some time/ internet access to reflect on the half way mark of my Peace Corps service. It’s been over a year now since I arrived in Kenya and that year has taught me a lot while testing my limits. I know that I have grown in certain areas and learned some valuable skills like independence (living alone in a Kenyan village miles from any other American has led to such) and adaptability (who would have thought it is so easy to live without running water/constant electricity?). But there are so many traits I still wish to improve on such as patience (I still cannot stand waiting hours for meetings to start!) and flexibility (a very true saying “This is Africa” in my mind translates to “shit happens, so deal with it”).

Thanksgiving (my favourite holiday!) gave me a chance to not only reflect on personal growth, but also what I’m thankful for. While I didn’t make a hand turkey to display my appreciation, I’ll tell you the things that make me especially thankful this time of year:

1. Family- both Kenyan and American who have been so supportive. My Kenyan grandma and grandpa have done so much to ensure my happiness and safety as have my American family who do the same by sending me parmesan cheese and flaming hot cheetos!

2. Friends- I’m so appreciative of all your letters and packages and visits. It seriously makes me week to hear from you. And my students who have you as penpals could not be more excited to have a friend in America.

3. Nala- My dog is the best company I could ask for. She makes my daily walks to and from school much more enjoyable. Plus, she is the perfect snuggler.

4. The opportunity to learn-I’m grateful to have a job/working environment in which there is so much possibility. Possibility to expand the school, possibility to start clubs and activities, opportunities to make a lasting difference in a students learning, etc. While this often translates to a lot of needed work and necessary motivation, I enjoy working in an environment conducive to change

5. The little things- I’m thankful for the little actions and moments that remind me why I’m here. A genuine smile. A true Kenyan friend. A perfect juicy mango. Sleeping in past the rooster crowing. An enthralling book. When the days are stressful and full of typical frustrations, it’s the little things that make a difference.

6. And lastly, I’m thankful for a delicious thanksgiving dinner. David and I cooked a fantastic Kenyan/vegetarian thanksgiving dinner complete with green beans, garlic cheese mashed potatoes, Stove top stuffing, and my all time favourite canned cranberry sauce topped off with charcoal oven cooked fudge brownies. Mmmm. It was the best dinner and company I could possibly ask for away from Los Gatos.

Completion of one year marks a big milestone in my Peace Corps service; I’m past the transition phase and beyond the adapting to the culture. But I still have so much to learn and even more to do! On my list are completing my school’s laboratory construction (be on the lookout for a donation email coming soon) and starting health clubs and life skills classes in the surrounding secondary schools. This next year will fly by much too fast. The best I can do is take advantage of my time here and be the most productive I can be. Happy Thanksgiving to you all.

I had one of those “ah hah!” moments today when I was walking home from school. I realized why so many Kenyans respond to greetings with a grunt or other guttural indecipherable noise (ok, maybe this theory only applies to me, but bear with me) but I think it may be because they’re too fucking tired to do much else. Let me explain. After a day of carrying buckets of water on your head, washing dishes by hand, scrubbing clothes (again by hand), starting fires to cook meals for your 10+ kids, picking vegetables to eat, tending to your livestock and garden, and then carrying more water to repeat all that dish washing and cooking for dinner, you’d be pretty tired too, right?

While I don’t nearly work that hard (my mom tells me I have princess wrists- too fragile to do “real” work) I still exert way more energy than I have ever before. With my daily 45 minute walk to and from school and 12 hour teaching days six days a week, I’m completely exhausted by the end of the day. Today was especially tiresome as I walked the hour and a half to the post office to check for mail (false alarm, your package hasn’t arrived yet, mom!) and on the way back the blazing heat and hilly terrain gave my (gasp in horror) Kilimanjaro flashbacks (ok, I’m exaggerating a bit, the walk isn’t THAT bad). In addition, I ran around like a crazy person searching for some place to print my exams, but alas, the stima (electricity) was out everywhere in Paw Akuche and in Miranga there was only enough electricity for a television, but of course, not enough to power a printer (wtf?). Anyways, after my intense climb back to school and then back to my house, all I could muster back to my friendly neighbour was raising a few eyebrow hairs in response to his “good evening.” I hope he noticed my effort. So that’s when my lightbulb went off, maybe (maybe just maybe), that’s why there are so many nods, “mmmm”, and “aaaaah” in response to questions and comments here, there just isn’t enough energy left to say much else.

The reason this theory definitely applies to me is because I swear I am way peppier in the morning and will muster enough energy (even at 5:45am!) to respond to your “good morning” (maybe, if you’re lucky, I’ll respond in dholuo AND Kiswahili) but by the end of the day you can expect a much less enthusiastic response (maybe, if you’re lucky, I’ll respond with a half nod or pathetic wave). As I sit here, writing down this world shaking theory of mine, debating whether to move my biweekly bucket bath schedule so that I can rinse the Kilimanjaro climb’s dust and sweat off of me, I request of you that if we are to meet in the future, please acknowledge my ¼ of an inch eyebrow raise as a legitimate greeting (at least if it’s in the evening hours).

Lately I’ve been noticing some strange changes in me, most likely due to the fact that I’ve been in Kenya for almost a year now. (Wow, I cannot believe it’s been a year!) For instance, my Kenyan voice (which my brother described to me as sounding like I have a British accent, minus the British part) is beginning to pervade ALL my conversations, not just my conversations with Kenyans. And I catch myself making very Kenyan comments like saying “Nice time” when a year ago I would have said something like “have a good day.” And the ultimate Kenyan thing that I unfortunately hear myself saying all the time is responding “I’m fine” before someone even greets me!

I remember a year ago, when I first arrived here, smirking to myself about these language oddities. Who replies to a greeting when nothing has even been said???? And, to top it off, certain occurrences hardly phase me such as seeing a goat being transported on the back of a bicycle or livestock being walked on leashes like pet puppies. When I first arrived, I remember balking at a matatu completely covered in chickens. Now that I’ve seen it a few times, it really is nothing surprising (definitely not camera worthy, like it used to be).

Whether my turning Kenyan is a positive or negative thing, I cannot say. However, it makes me wonder if when I go back, I’ll stare at things that seem so common and everyday to you. Like a supermarket aisle or a Starbucks menu or seeing running water in every household. Will living in America make me yearn for what I’ve become so accustomed to here? Will I miss my daily sighting of bicycle transported animals or cows accompanying meon my walk to school everyday? While time will only tell about my eventual transition back to the states, I hope that you won’t think I’m too strange if you catch me gazing in wonderment at the fifty different brands of soap or taking 20 minutes deciding what coffee I want to order. And don’t think I’m too strange if I talk to you in an accent that sounds British, minus the British part. I know that I have a long time to wonder about these things, but taking into account how fast this year has already gone by, I know this next year will pass much too quickly. While I can promise you that I won’t come back with the skin colour of a Kenyan (like my students initially predicted would occur over the course of my stay here), I can’t promise you that I’ll come back as the same Jenny that you remember. Blame it on Kenya :)

The adventures of Caitlin and Jenny continued with some exciting, but hectic, traveling to Kakamega National Rainforest, Lake Nakuru National Park, and Hell’s Gate National Park all in the weekend before Caitlin was to return back to America.

Caitlin experienced her first Kenyan matatu (van) ride which can only be described with some vivid mental images….Imagine a van meant to hold 12 people, meaning there are 12 seats. However, in Kenya, seats don’t determine the number of passengers. In our matatu ride there were 24 people riding in our van including a few men hanging out of the door, four or more people per row, plus chickens, giant bags of food, mattresses, water tanks, etc. tied to the roof. It is quite an experience to travel by matatu. And while Caitlin was not fond of the smell, there are definitely some adventures that occur while on a matatu whether it be 80’s flashback music, a dancing baby, and an entertaining/drunk seat sharer, etc.

Our fist stop was to Kakamega National Rainforest, the only rainforest in all of Kenya. While it used to be home to gorillas and all sorts of other wildlife, development has reduced it to the habitat of Kenya’s most spectacular bird population. This is a bird watchers paradise with beautiful greenery and birds chirping everywhere. There are also tons of monkeys swinging from tree to tree, tree shaded trails, and a wealth of medical knowledge that we learned about from our Luhya guide.

We stayed in traditional mud bandas (huts) at the Udo campsite. While rustic from the outside, the bandas were quite comfortable inside. Although, we were a wee bit terrified to venture out of our hut at night to use the choo and thus constructed an in-door bathroom consisting of a bucket behind a chair.

Our next destination, after another jampacked matatu ride, was to Nakuru town. Nakuru is Kenya’s largest town and has a lovely laid back atmosphere and quaint restaurants. Caitlin tried her first plate of Ethiopian food here. We entered Lake Nakuru National Park for evening and morning game drives and were thrilled to see a plethora of animals running around everywhere (there were baboons and monkeys jumping on cars). We were able to spot black and white rhinos, a ton of flamingos nestled in the lake itself, Rothschild giraffes, baby baboons, lionesses and their cubs, zebras and many species of birds. While unassuming from the park’s gates, this national park was truly something else. The sheer number of wildlife wandering left and right make it a safari dream come true.

Our last stop on our few day adventure was to Hell’s Gate National Park located outside of Naivasha. This park is unique because it is one of the few parks that allows visitors to walk or bike through it. While it is not the same as being a few feet away from a lion behind the protection of a car frame, wandering through a park in the company of giraffes and zebras is just as fun. We rented bikes (and after relearning how to ride a bike) we headed into the park. We only had a few hours in the park due to Caitlin’s impending departure so we choose a short route to the Obsidian Caves. Along the way we biked through herds of zebras, grazing giraffes and warthogs. The end destination was a few caves composed of layered obsidian rock. While Caitlin’s view of biking adventures was scarred due to a sore derriere, I enjoyed the park greatly. While the animals may not have been as spectacular nor scary (who would want to see a lion while biking?) it was still fun to be biking next to all sorts of wildlife. I hope to go back again soon and explore some more!

Even though a tearful goodbye to Caitlin ensued after our amazing adventures, I still thoroughly enjoyed all of our travels together. It was her first time to Africa and hopefully not last. To all of you who have yet to explore this fascinating continent, karibu!

After our Kilimanjaro adventure we spent a few days recuperating in the luxurious Fairview hotel in Nairobi. I truly did not know that a place like that haven existed in Kenya! There a spectacular breakfast buffet that had STRAWBERRIES! I had not seen a strawberry for 10 months! Needless to say, I contemplated a peace corps site change to the Fairview hotel. After a few days, a few showers, and a few hot meals, my family and I met up with Caitlin, my best friend from high school, to embark on our next set of adventures. Since a picture shows a thousand words, here are some of my favourite snapshots of our vacation:

At the elephant orphanage we watched baby elephants (awwwwww) get fed with giant bottles of milk and then play soccer.

Caitlin and my Mom getting smooches from giraffes at the Nairobi Giraffe Centre. Giraffe tongues are rough and slimy, not at all kissable.

At Carnivore restaurant where you are served an endless buffet of wild game from crocodile to ostrich. This is the happiest I saw Robbie on the trip, and quite possibly in all his life.

We ventured to the Masai Mara to begin our safari. We first stayed at Keekorok Lodge in comfortable wooden huts. Note Caitlin’s excitement for our first game drive! There was also a hippo pond with lots of snuggling hippopotamuses.

Below are some pictures of the wildlife we saw in the Masai Mara. It was fascinating (and slightly scary) to see all of the giant game roaming in their habitat.

Seeing all of the animals above almost felt like a Disneyland ride/Lion King movie set (I did have to sing the circle of life a few times!). Out of sibling rivalry, Robbie and I came up with a competition to see who could spot the most animals throughout our stay and assigned points to the most elusive of animals. I lost miserably! I missed a sleeping lion right in front of me, mistaking it for a dead buffalo…..

This is the second lodge that we stayed in, Mara Serena, which had gorgeous view of the Mara river. The rooms were modeled after traditional Masai huts, but with the luxury of running water, toilets, etc.

From the view of our rooms, the wildebeest migration across the Mara river was seen. Unfortunately for me I missed the whole crossing as I was blissfully enjoying a massage! Oh well, at least from this picture you can see the sheer number of wildebeest…quite amazing.

The view of the Masai Mara were breathtaking. You could see for miles and spot wildlife off in the distance.

And there were absolutely beautiful sunsets. The colours of an African sunset are just so pretty!

Caitlin and I attended a Masai Dance where we witnessed some traditional songs and dances. The Masai tribesmen dance by jumping as high as possible in a circle.

After our safari in the Masai Mara we headed to Kisumu in the Nyanza province. We stayed at Kiboko Bay Resort located on the shore of Lake Victoria. There was a lot of delicious fresh fish to be enjoyed as well as bird watching.

We went on a boat ride in Lake Victoria and saw many fisherman at work catching tilapia and omena (small sardine like fish). We also saw a group of emerged hippos, many beautiful birds, and a giant water lizard.

We ended our vacation at my site where my family and Caitlin had a chance to meet all my students and staff at Bishop Abiero Girl's Secondary School. The students asked them many questions about themselves and America.

My visitors also got to meet all of my house’s animal inhabitants (invited and uninvited). I was glad that they were able to see my house, school, and community to get a real feel for what it is like living in Kenya as a Peace Corps Volunteer. My mom described my house as “camping for two years” while my brother euphemistically called my living situation “an adventure” (in reference to the daily battle with rodents, bumblebees, spiders, etc that have infested my house). And even though Caitlin had a nightly staring contest with the mice living in my rafters and Robbie was attacked by a million mosquitoes, I want to believe that they enjoyed their stay in Magwar (although I know they will not miss using a choo). Come back to visit again soon!

Since this is my blog, I really should be able to describe climbing Mt. Kilimanjaro in any way I like; as in I reached the top first, was able to withstand the freezing cold, and completely triumphed without any signs of altitude sickness because I’m just that awesome. Sadly, I feel compelled to tell you the truth which unfortunately ends up being the complete opposite of my ambitious dreams for a kili climb.

In reality, the experience was close to miserable. On summit night, it was freezing (and many of you know I HATE the cold!). I mean, really, who in their right mind would want to walk up a mountain in -20 degree weather? Definitely not me. Besides the cold, the altitude was quite difficult. We would literally take one or two steps then have to stop to gasp for air…there was hardly any oxygen at 5895 meters! At least there was a was beautiful sunrise above the clouds and some breathtaking glaciers. Too bad I hardly remember the scenery since I was too worried about the possible impending amputation of all my toes due to frostbite…..:

As some of you know, the main reason we decided to spend a week of our “vacation” on this torturous mountain was to celebrate the 50th birthday of my mother. She is now half a century old! But age, clearly, did not matter on Kili. She was a beast of a 50 year old and powered up the mountain beating both of her children to Uhuru peak. All of the porters were sincerely impressed with her strength and endurance and kept telling her she was the strongest 50 year old they had ever seen! When I was sick due to the altitude she literally carried me down the mountain leaving the porters in awe of her brute strength. While my brother and I swore that we would never attempt to climb a mountain again, my mother was hardly phased by Kilimanjaro, the tallest point in all of Africa. She is an amazing woman and I can only hope that at 50, I can do half the things she can do (not including climbing mountains). Happy Birthday Mom, I love you!

While the memory of Kilimanjaro is still too fresh in my mind to not be scarred by the cold and altitude sickness, I know that in a few months (ok maybe years) I will look back at the experience as one of the most rewarding accomplishments. Summit night was quite possibly the worst night of my life, but besides that night, the spectacular scenery of the mountain and the atmosphere were very memorable. We walked through so many different ecosystems from lush jungle to dry desert. We had the opportunity to meet and talk with some amazing porters who climb Kili for a living. And my brother and I bonded over our shared misery. While I might complain about the aches and pains, bruises, and general dirtiness of the being on the mountain for a week, I know that I will always treasure the experience and, of course, the bragging rights :)

Do you ever one of those days when everything seems beautiful? When you can hear every bird song crystal clear, every cloud looks fluffy and playful, the sunrise and sunset are spectacularly breathtaking, and every person’s smile is incredibly heartfelt? I had one of those days today, which was well needed. As you may have guessed from my previous blog entries, I’ve been having more trouble adjusting to life here than my initial few months. Today, when everything here was beautiful and perfect, reminded me to see the beauty in things. I hope to truly savour these moments that make me blissfully happy. Today made my smile shine from within and showed me that in a land where many things seem so illogical, there is still beauty. These are some of the things that I find beautiful, here in Magwar:

My sunrise walk to school. The field I pass through each morning is full of beautiful birds, grazing cattle, and silence. I love this peaceful journey with just me and my dog and the quiet of Magwar. I’m not being followed by loads of rambunctious school children, I’m not being asked for money, and I’m not being scorched by the equatorial sun. It’s peacefulness that prepares me for my day.

Prayer drums during planting season. It’s a humbling experience, seeing women bent over plowing their fields into neat lines to the beat of drums calling to God/whoever else may hear, to grant them a fruitful harvest. I find myself looking up to the sky like the little old lady drummer does, and wondering if someone above hears the beauty and reverence vibrating in her huge cow hide drum.

My students: Over half of my students are orphans, many face challenges that I cannot even describe or fathom. They are poor, sometimes hungry, often cold, and frequently exhausted from a Kenyan day’s household chores. But they have amazing spirits. They are dedicated to their education even if it means sacrificing so much. They are charismatic, curious, and persevering. I gain so much of my strength from them.

Children For any of you who know me, you know that I adore children. But, living here, and standing out like some kind of freak sideshow I often become somewhat of a spectacle to children. Thankfully, to some extent, a bit of their excitement in my newness has worn off. I no longer am hassled EVERYWHERE I go and followed by an army of children. But I do have one faithful fan, who early morning or late evening, rain or shine, will sprint from wherever he may be and whatever he may be doing to greet me. He is about 2 years old and named Eriki. He has an enormous pot belly topped with the largest outie belly button I’ve ever seen. He is shy, with questioning eyes, a determined handshake and is sometimes adorned in a pink flowered smock, but he makes me happy. His loyalty to my daily handshake makes me smile everyday.

Baby animals. I realize that I am a huge sucker for animals (look at my growing farm of pets). The plethora of baby cows, newborn goats, fuzzy chickens, and suckling puppies makes me say “Awwww” on a daily basis. A moment that makes me laugh is when I accidentally tested a mother’s protective instinct. I was at the market with my friend Emmah when I saw a trail of baby chickens following their mother along. Overcome with a baby chick’s cuteness, I reached to pick one up. Bad move. The mother, seeing that I had one of her babies in my potentially killer hands, flew up and began attacking/pecking/squacking/thrashing her wings in my hair. That moment made me laugh out loud, my adoration of anything young overrode me common sense of a mother’s protective nature. The cycle of life is quite a beautiful thing.

A sense of community: Property lines and street signs divide American communities. While those walls and property lines may exist here, there is a sense of togetherness that lingers and runs beneath class and community segregation. A sense of community means: knowing that if your crops fail then your neighbour will feed you. If there is a drought then water will be shared. If you are sick members from the community will come to your house to wish you a speedy recovery and bring you loads of food. If a death occurs, the whole village will be there to mourn with you, to share your pain. It’s witnessing these moments that are heartfelt and warming and true. While maybe not beautiful on the outermost level, inherently, a sense of togetherness and oneness is truly amazing.

So, these things show me the beauty of my community. And while I realize that I may not appreciate these things on a daily basis, knowing that they are there is reason enough for me to get through the difficult days. So when I’m frustrated with the lack of behaviour change, feeling helpless in the face of poverty, or just homesick, I’ll try to remember to look for the beauty in things.

Dear friends and family,

Sorry I have not been updating you all lately. To be honest, I haven't been as happy here as I used to be and I don’t want to bore you with my complaints about the little things that annoy me and have me wishing I could teleport back to California. It’s the little things that add up over time, making me burst out in an angry rage at the smallest provocations. I’m now used to the lack of running water, inconsistent electricity, and lower standards of personal hygiene. But what really gets to me is the everyday occurrences ( people always asking me for things, or assuming I have a ton of money, or calling me mzungu (I have a name!) )that truly get to me.

I also think my frustration stems from the fact that I feel like I’m not doing enough here. Sometimes the problems just seem too enormous to even fathom conquering. For instance, when I first arrived and school fees seemed to be a major issue, with your help, we were able to at least partly solve that problem. However, when you add the other common struggles of hunger, rape, gender inequality, AIDS related deaths and so many other awful consequences of poverty, it makes conquering any task seem impossible. I understand that I’m not here to change the world, or even change Kenya, but is it too much to ask to be able to change something?

Maybe it’s my own expectations that create this discrepancy between what I can and cannot do. I knew coming here that I was going to be a teacher and that was going to be a full time job. However, some days, I feel like I should be doing so much more than just teaching. It’s been six months that I’ve been at site now and I feel like I should have more to show. I realize that education is not immediately tangible, but I still have a hard time grasping just how measurable of a success my time is supposed to be here.

I’m not regretful about my choice to join the Peace Corps, I guess I’m just at a stage where re-evaluation is necessary. I’m taking a few mental health days in town to get a massage, maybe a manicure or a movie, and definitely taking some time to think about what I want from this experience, what is indeed feasible, and what will make me happy.

Love,

Jenny

Disclaimer: This entry contains some sexual content and is therefore rated PG-13

This past weekend, I decided that I was in drastic need of a haircut. For those of you who know me well, I am not a huge proponent of hair brushing. In the states, I would brush my hair a few times a week and the Peace Corps factor lessoned the frequency to about once a week. This somewhat hippy habit got out of control last week when my weekly hair brushing broke my only brush into pieces (literally). My hair was too long and too tangled to do anything with so I concluded that I would have to take the risk of letting a Kenyan cut my hair.

As you may have deduced from my blogs, Kenyans do things differently. Everything from clothing style to current music trends seems to be behind American standards. For instance, on the street a man tried to sell me Westlife, Backstreet Boys, and Dolly Parton CDs as the “most popular” music now. You can therefore understand my hesitation with letting a Kenyan cut my hair. Furthermore, the regularity of weaves and shaved heads added to my doubts of anyone having knowledge of cutting my type of hair. I also have a somewhat irrational attachment to my hair. After some horrific haircuts (my childhood nickname was Mogli due to my jungle book hair style) and dye jobs (my hair once closely resembled Tony the tiger) I believe that I am justified in my worries. I also have had my hair cut by the same woman for the past 6 years and have refused to trust anyone else with my precious hair. I also had this scene from Little Women replaying in my head where Jo cuts off all her hair and one of her sisters cries, “Your one beauty!” Despite these silly fears, I decided that after the hairbrush breaking incident, it was time to cut my hair to at least a manageable length.

On Saturday afternoon I entered a salon in Kisumu that claimed to specialize in Asian/Caucasian hair (How many Asians are even in Kenya?? I thought I was the only one..). The salon proceeded to tell me that the person who normally cuts wazungu hair was out. Then, a man sitting in the waiting room offered to cut my hair, claiming that he could do a good job (this should have been my first warning sign). This is where the story gets a bit strange. He started to comb out my hair and, seeing the state of my tangled hair, called for backup. A team of three men armed with fine tooth combs spent a good 20 minutes combing out the half-dreads that had formed in my hair. After a quite enjoyable hair wash, he began cutting my hair by holding up chunks of hair and hacking off pieces with what resembled gardening shears. And while I have no idea what is taught in Kenyan beauty school, I’m going to argue that step one should be “Do not hack off pieces of hair with gardening shears.”

At this point, I closed my eyes. I had come to acceptance that parting with my untameable hair was necessary. But what came next was not part of the plan. I’m 88% certain that the man cutting my hair was somehow aroused by this haircutting business and had a large erection that he kept pushing up against my shoulder. I was quite uncomfortable at the time and kept hoping that it was just a curling iron or rollers or something else penis shaped.

So, after a tortuous time watching my hair falling to the ground in uneven pieces through half open eyes, he finally finished. If things could get stranger, they did. He then walked out of the salon and called a random passerby to help blowdry my hair. In between singeing my hair, the other random man kept petting my head as he helped hold the blowdryer. After, the haircutter looked proudly down at his work and asked if I liked it. To my amusement, I had to point out the fact that the left side of hair was a good 3 inches longer than the right. “Oh!” he exclaimed and continued to hack some more. Once the sides were relatively even (or even enough for me not to care) he proceeded to put so much pomade and hair product in my hair that I could have doubled for John Travolta’s hair double in Grease…that much slickness. (A fellow PCV told me he could see his reflection in my hair). I let him style away to his hearts content then went straight to my hotel and washed my hair 3 times to get out all the product.

After this haircutting fiasco, I realized that, here in Kenya, something as mundane as a haircut can be quite an adventure. I’m going to avoid haircuts for as long as possible from now on. If I come back looking like Cousin It, you’ll now know why:)

I haven’t been too homesick since arriving in Kenya, until this week. I was sad on Christmas when I missed my family, traditions, and home, but didn’t really want to go home. And now, I’m at a strange and somewhat confusing state of homesickness. I don’t want to go home necessarily, because, what would I really do there? But I don’t really want to be here either. It’s not that I’m bored or overworked or any other emotional extreme that would cause someone to want to move. But it’s the overwhelming frequency of death. Maybe I’m being immature, but dead things terrify me. Whether it’s the full chicken head (beak and rooster waddle thing included) that ended up on my plate or the horrifically mutilated rat that met its demise in my rat trap (and that hung for my ceiling dripping blood until a colleague helped me remove it) there is something odd about once living things. Not that I fear wilted flowers or browning fruit nor even dead insects that I willingly squash with my shoe. But there is an eerie association for me with the death of something that once breathed, and moved, and had a life of its own. And, lately, I feel like there has been much too much death here (There are least a few funerals every week). While I in no way can compare the death of a colleague to the death of a pesky house rodent, both deaths still evoke a similar peculiar sensation in me, somewhere between remorse and wonder; remorse that I didn’t have any final positive moments with my colleague and wonder to where he is now, remorse that I may have brutally murdered a rat patriarch and wonder if it was a good enough scare to drive the rest of his family out of my house

To be honest, before coming to Kenya, death was something that was not a part of my community, my life. I’d been to only one funeral before, and never seen a dead body. But in accordance to traditional Luo burials, the dead are to be viewed before being buried in the family’s backyard (which is much less grotesque than another Kenyan tribe that traditionally buried its dead with the head above ground). As a result, I have seen more dead bodies than I would have liked to in the past 4 months. The same senses of remorse and wonder enter my mind at the sight of a lifeless body. Sorrow for remaining family and wonder as to what really happens after death.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about this question lately. And while religion dictates heaven or hell or purgatory (LOST fans anyone?), I want to believe that there is more to it than that. While I don’t consider myself religious, I see the appeal to something constant, like religion, especially in a place like Kenya. Poverty, and the associated challenges, are unexplainable in so many ways (Why are some people born into suffering? Why do some people go to bed hungry? Why do some many people die of AIDS?) that it seems logical to place the culpability in someone else's hands.

To help me sort out my scattered thoughts, I went to church today. And while I didn’t understand a word of the Luo ceremony and found the final hour sitting under a heat amplifying tin roof tortuous, I felt somewhat calmed by the music, the people, and the cohesive energy. While the singing and clapping and drumming passed, I was able to silence my mind filled with questions. Closing my eyes, hearing the beautiful Luo songs, feeling the vibrations of that church walls, I was able to conclude that death’s finality makes it both feared and fascinating. And while I have to in no way enjoy the dead chicken head or bloody rat or untimely passing of a colleague, I must accept it as a part of life. To Mr. AG, wherever you are, RIP.

It’s a funny thing, this concept of immunity. I’m teaching about it in my Form 2 Biology class. It’s quite fascinating how our bodies react to pathogens to build up antibodies in order to protect us from future harmful micro organism invasions. In essence, our bodies’ immune systems are so intelligent that they are able to provide us with protection against future disease. Or in some cases, with the help of a few vaccines, or in my case MANY, our bodies are even further strengthened. However, I fear, that is what is happening to mind; I feel immune to things lately. So many devastating things have happened in my community this week, and yet, I feel immune to it all. Just like an over vaccinated body, has my mind experienced too many traumatic events that now I cannot feel anything?

The teacher I wrote about earlier this week died today. He succumbed to the dreaded disease that is afflicting so many people in Africa. The region I live in, Nyanza province, has the highest AIDS rate in all of the country (16% compared to the national average of 7.4%). This is due to a variety of factors including cultural practices (wife inheritance, polygamy, no male circumcision) and social concepts (AIDS stigma, refusal to use condoms, the topic of sex being taboo). The teacher that referred to his housewife as a housefly, who spent his salary on the local brew, who refused to be tested for HIV, died of AIDS. And while no one here will say it out loud, they all know, he died of the most stigmatized disease of all. I was shocked that he died, but not surprised.

A few days ago, one of my favourite Form 2 students, who is my neighbour, confessed that she was raped on her walk back from school one night. We live about a 50 minute walk away from school and our houses follow a shaded, winding, rocky path away from the main road. The students and teachers must be at school at 6:40am and leave school at 5:20pm (or sometimes much later). With a stop at the market or a few mandatory Kenyan greetings to random passerby, this results in often walking to and fro school in the dark. To my great horror, my 15 year old student was raped on her walk home. I was saddened, but not surprised.

And to top off this week, I found out my top Form 3 student is pregnant. Despite people from every direction preaching abstinence, despite my urgings to use condoms, despite her better judgment, one of the brightest girls in the school must drop out. She’s just 16 years old and will soon be a mother. She is the third student in Form 3 to drop out of school in the past 3 months due to pregnancy. I was disappointed, but not surprised.

Because I haven’t been surprised that any of this has happened, because I’m not crying over a dead colleague, because rape and early pregnancy seem to be a common occurrence, am I now too immune to cry, to empathize, to feel? I’m terrified that I’ve lost my ability to show emotion. I remember when I first got here, how strange I thought it was that Kenyans do not show emotion. They give handshakes, they don’t hug. They sometimes get frustrated, but never furious. They may laugh in public, but they certainly do not cry. But now I’m starting to understand. They don’t show emotion because their bodies have built up a defense mechanism against the pain that comes along with the seemingly common events of death, rape, and so many more daily problems associated with poverty. It’s much easier to be indifferent towards something than be emotionally, physically, mentally drained from all the various challenges. However, I’m nervous that all these awful events, instead of making me feel motivated to make a change, are making me feel nothing. I fear that I’m turning into the tin man who has lost a heart. So, rather than scurrying off to Emerald City hand in hand with Dorothy, Toto, a scarecrow and a lion, how am I supposed to get my heart back? Or is my body, like my strengthened immune system, doing what is best and protecting me from future pain?

I’m crying over the teacher that has made me cry numerous times before. The teacher that argued that women should be beaten, that students should be to blame for student-teacher sexual relationships, that AIDS was made as a warfare weapon constructed in an American laboratory to kill Africans, that HIV testers’ jobs and ARVs were created to make amends for America’s “mistake of creating AIDS.” The teacher that told me condoms are useless, that extramarital sex is for men only, that women should always be subservient, is now in no state to argue with me. The teacher that pushed my patience, that forced me to tears arguing for what I believe in, is dying of AIDS.

Because of the extreme stigma associated with “God’s curse” no one says the words. People may whisper the word under their breath or pass the unspoken word through a knowing appraisal of the patient. But it’s never spoken. Especially on someone’s deathbed. So that’s why I have to blurt it all out here, on the non judgemental, stigma unknowing pages of my blog.

Today, at this teacher’s house, part of me wanted to scream “I told you so! I told you condoms are necessary in fighting the AIDS pandemic! I told you that AIDS is a serious issue that cannot be swept under the rug!” But looking at this frail teacher, who just 2 weeks ago was fervently telling me that he does not believe in the education of girls, my self righteousness and bitterness toward him disappeared. Looking at his sniffling eldest child nervously picking at twigs to assuage his fear of his father’s imminent death, I couldn’t have any other emotion besides sorrow. Sorrow for the teacher’s family. Sorrow for his young children’s future. Sorrow for his pitiful state. Sorrow for his suffering.

There is no trace of the teacher I knew. His face is unrecognizable; hollow cheekbones protruding from taut skin, lifeless eyes gazing from sunken sockets, and a wheezing breath that still haunts my ears. His strong, tall body has failed him. He cannot walk, nor sit up right. Lying meekly on his bed, mosquito net thrown haphazardly over him, bones, not flesh, define his figure. I cannot recognize him.

As he is pushed away on the back of a bicycle, supported by three men, to the nearest hospital, I have to wonder: Will his decrepit state be a wake up call? Will he swallow his pride and start ARVs? Will he change his lifestyle? Will he change his beliefs? While I ask those questions of my dying colleague, I ask similar questions of myself: Will this be a wake up call to the need of HIV/AIDS education in the community? Can I assist in healthy behaviour change? Can education reduce HIV related stigma? Can I do really do any of this in the short time I have here? Can I???

I’ve realised that there are just a few things that I need to keep me happy. If you had asked me to make a list a year ago I’m sure it would have been a bit longer and would have included things like Pinkberry or shopping on Melrose. But, things have changed. And I’ve come up with this short list of things that keep me happy whilst living in Kenya:

1. My puppy, Nala: While she does make me mad at certain times (like when she decided to pee on my pillow while I was sleeping on it), she is the best company. Living alone has been a lot easier than I would have imagined now that I have a dog to entertain me. She’s awesome and understands Swahili commands like Kuja (come). She also comes to school with me everyday and is good company on our 45 minute walk each way. However, Kenyans think I am crazy for giving her so much attention and (gasp) walking her on a leash! Here she is…isn’t she cute?

2. Red wine: During college I lived of Trader Joe’s two buck chuck wine and now, seeing as I’m a classy university graduate, I have upgraded to 500 shilling (7 dollars) box wine. After a 12 hour day, a glass of red wine while cooking is necessary and relaxing.

3. A kitchen: In the states, kitchens were always my favourite room of a house. Especially when they smell yummy like fresh baked cookies or thanksgiving. Anywho, while my kitchen here doesn’t quite compare to one back in the states, I still enjoy being in my kitchen. There is something strangely soothing about chopping sukuma wiki (kale) after a long day, sipping wine, and waiting for my house to fill with the smell of roasting garlic. I’m hoping to build a jiko oven soon so that I can start baking again. I miss baking cupcakes and cookies and decorating fondant cakes. Hopefully I’ll be able to soon because kitchens make a home smell like, well, home. This is my friend Emma teaching me to cook traditional Luo food (tilapia and ugali) on a Sunday afternoon.

4. Correspondence from friends and family: I don’t know if you all know just how much I appreciate hearing from you whether its in the form of an email, letter, package, facebook message, or phone call, but I really really really love it! I realize that my place of living makes it quite inconvenient for reliable communication (seriously, could the Kenyan postal system be any slower????!?!?), but when it does happen I am so happy! So thanks to all of you that write/call me…it makes me happy, happy enough to put on my happy list!

So there’s my list. Four things that keep me content in Kenya. And I’m glad to realize that these four things would be relatively easy to have any where in the world. So wherever I live in the next chapter of my life will have to be dog friendly, red wine stocked in the kitchen, and a post office nearby…easy enough, right?

It’s truly amazing to me the adaptability of the human being. After living at site for just 4 months, a lot of things feel normal to me that were incredibly foreign when I first got here. Take for instance, my initial repulsion of ugali (the Kenyan staple of maize meal and water mixed to form a thick paste eaten with your hands with vegetables or meat) After 3 weeks away on vacation, I actually missed the stuff!

Coming back to site made me realize that this is my home now. I missed it. Even though I don’t have running water or reliable electricity, my house in Magwar is what I am used to. I like my (relatively) clean choo. I like the comfort of having my own space. I like being greeted on the streets and in the market. And I like being able to finally own whatever pets I like (USC would definitely not condone the animals currently living in my house). I am the proud owner of an adorable puppy named Nala who sometimes gets along with my bunny, Apollo. And I just rescued a tadpole from a dried up pond who I named Tortoise (why? Because Kenyans pronounce this word in the funniest way!). This is what I call home now- Nala, Apollo, Tortoise, me and all the unwelcome insects and furry creatures ( I found a nest of rat babies living in the back of my couch, but didn’t have the heart to kill them. They’re gone now….)

There are moments when I’m walking down the road at the pace of a tortoise (Kenyan pronounce tortoise as if it rhymes with turquoise ahaha) due to the inches of mud caking the bottoms of my shoes, when I think to myself, “Wow, 6 months ago, this situation would have been so frustrating to me, still holding onto the American mindset of places to go, people to see.” And now, I think “Wow, it could be a lot worse, I could be trudging through feet of mud!” But, like a chameleon, I’ve become accustomed to the daily life here. I can predict when the power is going to go out based on the intensity of the rain. I can sleep through the loud thunderstorms amplified by my tin roof. And the giant fanged and hairy spiders and furry creatures inhabiting my house hardly phase me (lucky for those rat babies). AND I can tell when dirt is dirty! (When I first arrived here, I scoffed at the idea of sweeping dirt. Isn’t it inherently dirty? But now, I can tell when my students haven’t swept their dirt floored classrooms). So as I write this on my shaded veranda, with Nala nuzzled in my lap, Daisy the cow grazing in my front yard, my bunny scurrying around my feet, and Tortoise doing what tadpoles do, I feel at home.

Dearest family and friends,

I know I’ve been a bit absent lately. Sorry for the lack of updates, but I’ve been on vacation for the past 3 weeks. The Kenyan education schedule consists of 3 months of school then one month of vacation. January to March was Term one and the month of April I had for vacation and training.

TRAIN: I started my vacation by heading to the Kenyan coast with three other girlfriends. We took the overnight train from Nairobi to Mombasa. It was lots of fun although I have to admit that I was a tiny bit scared of being murdered after my host brother in Loitokitok made me watch his favourite movie Midnight Meat Train (it’s a horror movie that takes place on a train, not a gay porn despite the title). Anywho, we arrived in Mombasa quite tired, because honestly how much sleep can you really get when a train is bumping and jerking along the railway?

COAST: We reached Mombasa the next morning after a beautiful and bumpy ride through Tsavo National Park. Mombasa is HOT and humid. We explored Mombasa a bit which has this great vibe of relaxedness (is that word?) and culture. We saw Fort Jesus, a monumental structure built by the Portuguese and wandered through the alleys of Old Town. We then went to Pirates beach (sadly no actual pirates) for some lounging, cold beer, and beach food. We ended the night with some amazing Indian food and bowling (yes, there is a bowling alley in Kenya!).

The next day we headed to Reef Beach which was spectacularly gorgeous. Imagine white deserted sand, the warm Indian ocean, and camels! I got to ride a camel! Which was much larger than I had ever imagined. I swear it was the size of a baby Tyrannosaurus Rex (Or maybe animals are just larger in Africa? Like my enormous bunny.

SHIRIANI: The next day, early in the morning, we headed to Shiriani, where a business peace corps volunteer is working with an ecotourism company that does snorkelling excursions. We had the chance to see lots of beautiful fish, coral and starfish. I even saw the Hawaii state fish the humuhumunukunukuapuapuaa!!!!

MALINDI:We traveled North along the coast to reach Malindi. Malindi is one of the towns that you can just tell you would want to live there from the first glance. It’s right near the beach has tons of friendly looking people and lots of eclectic shops and restaurants. Like a gelato shop- after months of ice cream deprivation a shop just devoted to gelato is the equivalent of heaven! I think I sampled 10 different flavours each time we went. And did I mention that the coast has amazing juices? We had fresh squeezed passion fruit and avocado juice ..delicious!

Near Malindi town are the Gedi Ruins. They are this fascinating ancient swahili civilization that was abandoned in the early 17th century. It was very interesting to learn about. Plus there were tons of cute monkeys everywhere.

LAMU:We then headed up the coast, towards the Somali border to an island called Lamu. Lamu is a Swahili inhabited area filled with amazing culture, language, food and …amazingness! After a long bus bumpy bus ride and a packed ferry trip to the island, pulling up to the waterfront of Lamu is just breathtaking.

We stayed at a hostel with a waterfront view, ate amazing seafood, drank the best fresh squeeze juices I’ve ever tasted, and explored the island of Lamu for the next 3 days of our vacation. Lamu town is comprised of endless swerving alleyways adorned with intricately carved wooden doors. Also, the alleyways are much too narrow for cars, so the primary mode of transport is either by foot, or by donkey! There are approximately 700 donkeys and just 2 cars on the island. Donkeys are pretty cool creatures, they are totally underrated and overworked in my opinion- good thing the island has its very own Donkey Sanctuary!

The first day we were there, the weather was too rainy for the beach so we visited the Lamu museum, the Lamu fort and got henna done in traditional Swahili patterns.

The next day we went out on a dhow (boat) trip to do some snorkeling above a giant and gorgeous coral reef. There were so many beautiful fish, coral, urchins, etc I wish I could do them justice in describing them. I can just tell you that I felt like I was in Finding Nemo- there were Dories, and Nemos, but sadly no talking turtles. After a few hours of snorkeling off our boat and catching fresh fish, we landed on a deserted island for a delicious meal of fresh fish, coconut rice, tropical fruits, and curry. This was one of the most amazing days ever. Even though we were rained on as we headed back to Lamu, the memory of indescribably beautiful snorkeling in the Indian Ocean AND a private island AND a freshly caught seafood meal will remain in my mind as one of my top three beach days (Mozambique’s swimming with whale sharks and Panama’s Kuna Yala islands still rank number 1 and 2!).

We spent our last day exploring Lamu’s winding alleyways, shopping, and tasting all sorts of Swahili cuisine. Whitney and I wandered the alleyways at night sampling the street food in place of a restaurant dinner- while I don’t know the names of what we ate I can tell you that since most things were fried, made of coconut, and cost a few shilling each which all add up to deliciousness!

MOMBASA: We travelled back to Mombasa the next day where we celebrated another Peace Corps Volunteer’s birthday. We had an epic night out dancing in an open parking lot turned bar, in the rain, until 5 in the morning. We also had some pretty entertaining company in the form of some Brazilian lifeguards, who, despite their poor English skills, were incredibly funny. We caught an early morning bus back to Nairobi the next day (or that day, I guess) to begin our IST (In service training) with the rest of the Peace Corps Education volunteers

IST: IST was like coming full circle as we stayed at the same hotel that we stayed in our first night in Kenya. IST was very informative as we were able to share our triumphs and difficulties of the past few months, learn about grant writing, and bond over some shared misfortunes (bowel movements often became the topic of dinner conversations…). Some highlights in Nairobi were going to the Giraffe Centre and kissing a giraffe (it’s tongue was much too rough for me to enjoy it). Petting a cheetah at the animal orphanage. And eating some delicious food- sushi, Ethiopian, and cheesecake!!!!!

Well folks, that’s my April update for you. Hope you enjoy the pictures and hopefully it will convince some of you to come visit me!!!!

I know I have said this is the past, but whoa is Kenya an emotional roller coaster. Let me tell you about my day today. The day didn’t begin with the best start. I was awoken by my neighbour’s blaring alarm clock at 5 am. Normally, I would have slept through this, but today, for some reason, the Kenyan version of yodeling music came screeching through my windows. I then woke up did the normal routine and started to get a migraine. I know I do not deal well with pain (ask my mother), so I popped a strong painkiller. I was feeling much better, but 45 minutes later when I reached school the nausea/ drowsiness kicked in. To rid myself of the awful mental forecast of barfing up partially digested sukuma wiki and ugali, I asked my principal if I could rest in her house.

Right as I was drifting into my painkiller induced sleep and away from its nauseating side effects, a fellow teacher barged into the house. Her darling newborn daughter Mercy just would not stop crying in the staff room so she brought her to rest in Matilda’s house. My colleague urged me to continue sleeping, but the wails of her newborn were not exactly reminiscent of a soothing lullaby. So, begrudged, I sat up on the couch where the teacher joined me. She began breast feeding her daughter (which thankfully meant the screaming stopped). But, to my shock and horror, I was soon being squirted all over with breast milk because apparently, baby Mercy cannot handle a fast stream of milk. Rather than yell my initial reaction of “Oh my god this is disgusting!” I tried my hardest to mask my insensitivity with just a slight grimace. The teacher’s apology of “Oh sorry, sorry, now you’re going to smell like breast milk” really did not make me feel better. So I returned, still nauseas, still headache-y, still tired, and newly smelling of breast milk, to the staff room. One of the teachers used the phrase “It’s as easy as beating a woman” which spurred the one sided debate of why, indeed, it is easy to beat women. I did not have the energy, patience, or self control to argue at that point. I knew that if I opened my mouth a river of culturally inappropriate things would flow out (why the patriarchal society clearly is not working, why polygamy is ridiculous and killing Kenyans with increased AIDS transmissions, why it is unfair that women work so hard, why Kenyan men, in my opinion, are completely and utterly useless beings) So I kept my mouth shut. As I sat holding my throbbing head I really wished I had Dorothy’s sequined ruby red slippers. Not just so I could add to my tiny shoe collection, but to tap my heels together and go home. Ok, maybe not home, but anywhere BUT here-where men think it’s okay to hit their wives, where a mountain of papers need grading, and where I reek of breast milk.

I put my head down, powered through my paperwork, and miraculously finished my work in order to leave my staff room and regain my sanity. But as I was giddily putting on my backpack to make the trek back home, I felt a raindrop on my head. I look up just as the sky turns black, lightening begins, and thunder roars off in the distance. Great. As the rains pour down, I return to my desk to wait it out. I was wishing for all sorts of magically powers during that time- a teleporter, a magical bubble to protect me from the ferocious Kenyan rain, a flying avatar like bird that could fly me back above the clouds to my house. But, alas, my fantasies and wishes did not come true. And when the rain finally did stop, FIVE hours later, I trudged through feet of mud and forged newly formed rivers to arrive home. And as I sit here, half amused at my misfortune and half seething with self pity, I wonder how people come out of the Peace Corps after riding this emotional roller coaster. Am I going to have some weird Mefloquine induced form of bipolar disorder? How can one day be so wonderful and the next so disastrous?

I know tomorrow’s sunshine will dry the rivers and ease the mud, a good nights’ sleep will appease my headache, and some serious bucket bathing will get rid of the strange smell of breast milk. But what, I seriously wonder, can realistically change the Kenyan male’s view of women? How can a culturally, religiously, socially ingrained opinion of females be altered? While behaviour change, unlike my moods, cannot be drastically transformed overnight, I wonder if two years is sufficient time to make some difference. Because tomorrow, as my one-woman car goes up the emotional roller coaster, I’m returning to the staff room fully armed, headache free, to argue with these men.

I’ve often heard that smell is the most sensitive sensory organ, evoking vivid memories with just one inhale. Like how the scent of pumpkin pie and roasting turkey brings back thoughts of Thanksgiving. Or how the smell of Water Babies sunscreen gives me flashbacks of summers spent by the Swim and Racquet poolside. Or how the distinct aroma of salt and sand reminds me of lounging on Hawaiian beaches. Well, the smell that brought back memories for me today was the specific scent of burning trash. The smell of burning plastic gave me flashbacks of the developing worlds that I have lived, worked, and travelled in. Before this moment, I hadn’t really thought there was a distinguishing characteristic that tied all of these countries together. But as I stoked my burning pile of trash this morning, I had images of rural countries flash through my mind; trekking through El Capulin in Nicaragua, or exploring the Kuna Yala Islands of Panama, or back to my first extended stay in a developing nation, La Providencia de Napoles in Mexico. While the smell of burning trash might evoke images of a deteriorating ozone layer or a grimy slum to others, the smell is nostalgic to me. When I get a whiff of smoking trash I get visions of the amazing people I’ve met through out my travels (adorable kids, my favourite Nicaraguan grandmother, Fanny, my host mom in Mexico, Charo) the unforgettable sights I’ve been lucky enough to see (the view from the top of Volcan Mombacho, the frosted peaks of Mt. Kilimanjaro, the untouched beaches of Mozambique) , the exotic foods I’ve been able to try (Zimbabwean mopane worms, South African zebra) and all the good times I had throughout. So as I stand here, watching the remains of my weeks trash smoulder in smoke and turn to ash, I breathe in (yes I know it’s carcinogenic!) and remember the memories. That’s why I, strangely, enjoy the smell of burning trash.

Hi friends and family,

Here are some pictures of my life in Kenya

This is me pumping water at the borehole behind my house. People from all over the community come to pump water from this tap because it has "the cleanest water in all of the district" according to my babu. It's convenient to have a water supply close to my house, but I still don't enjoy carrying water. Maybe it would be easier if I was like the Kenyans who can carry huge jugs of water (and anything else for that matter) balanced on their heads.

This is one of my students, Leah, and her niece. She took me on a hike near her house where there was a beautiful view of Lake Victoria. Can you see it in the background? Prior to this day, I had no idea that I could see the lake from my community!

This is at Leah's house where her mother was teaching me how to make place mats out of banana leaves. Kenyans are very resourceful- I often have moments where I think "ahhhh why didn't I think of that!" I had a great afternoon eating bananas from the tree and weaving banana leaf place mats.

Here I am making chapatti. Leah's mother taught me a "secret" recipe that makes the most delicious chapatti I've had in Kenya! I told her that I would bring her recipe back to America and start a chappati craze in the states (seriously it could be the next korean taco truck phenomenon!) and name the restaurant Rosemary's Chapatti stand.

Here are some of my students at their Cross Country competition. They did very well, and our school was ranked 3rd out of 19 schools. Not bad for our first year competing!

I invited a Public Health volunteer to come to my school and answer my student's health questions. They have lots of good questions and no where to get the answers (they can't turn to the internet to find a solution to an embarrassing question about adolescence). So here they are at an outdoor assembly listening and participating in a HIV/STI discussion.

These are some other Peace Corps volunteers and me during a night out in Kisumu Town. We decided to meet in town to not only enjoy one another's company, but to take advantage of the hot showers and delicious (non Kenyan) variety of foods that Kisumu has to offer! Here, we're at a restaurant called the Laughing Buddha which has indian food, pizza, hookah, cheesecake, and a dessert called the sizzling brownie..mmmm

Here is my friend Whitney and I at her sight near Bomet. Myself and a few other volunteers went to visit her site and meet her students. It was interesting to see another volunteer's sight in comparison to mine. We all have very different living situations and schools.

During our visit to Whitney's site in Bomet, our afternoon hike was interrupted by a torrential downpour. We took shelter in a small shack until the rains subsided. While our smiles might say otherwise, we were completely drenched and cold.

During my stay in Kenya I have frequently seen some sights that make me laugh...this being one of them. This is a picture of a matatu "van" that I often use to travel in. This one has a rooftop of live chickens. They were all alive and flapping their wings as the matatu drove by.

K hope you enjoyed these pictures! Love you all!

-Jenny

Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about what I want to do after the Peace Corps. Yes, I realise that it’s two years away (and yes, I realise that my spelling is in British English, but that’s my Microsoft word is programmed now!). But still, thinking about the future helps me sometimes, especially when the days are treacherously long. Imagining the time when I will have running water and constant electricity makes me a little less homesick. I, unlike many of my fellow community members, have the knowledge that this life is temporary. That I will eventually return back to America to daily showers (ok, who am I kidding? Bi-weekly showers) and having the luxury of dishwashers and laundry machines at my fingertips. These are futures that all my students and neighbours dream of, but will they ever get there?

This makes me wonder, what is it that I really want for my future anyways? I’ve thought a lot about grad school or continuing to work with international organizations like the Peace Corps. I’ve even thought about, on a good day of course, extending my service to stay in Kenya for three years. But after my stay here, will I go back to the US and finally settle down as David puts it? Not the settle down, like get married settle down, but the settle down like live in one place longer than a few years. (I’ve been hopping from continent to continent, country to country since before I can remember). But the truth is, I don’t think I can. Maybe it’s because I crave the adventure of living abroad. Won’t my life be boring if I don’t have to take my battle pose against the giant creatures that occupy my room before I go to bed? (I killed a giant hairy fanged spider last night) Won’t I get tired of speaking English everyday? And above all, won’t I miss the knowledge of knowing that every morning when I wake up it is going to be a new learning experience? I’m not saying that every job in America is boring. I just cannot imagine myself feeling fulfilled after a 9 to 5 day at the corporate office. I know I complain a lot (I can check back at my old blogs and read about my whining over lack of running water), but in reality, I love my life here. Living here is my life now, and sure there are days when the novelty wears off, but overall I’m comfortable just living here. Today, a community member told me, in dhoLuo and translated through my friend Emmah, that I’m part of the community now and I need to learn the language. I was flattered that he called me part of the community, up until now, I’ve been referred to as the “visitor” or “mzungu.” His comment really sunk in the fact that I am here, right now. And no matter if I have times when all I can think about is life in America, I’m part of the community and I need to mentally be here. I think I need to work on “staying present” as the director of my study abroad Cape Town program used to say. I need to learn to stay in the moment and appreciate the everyday experiences of life here. I want to learn the local language. I want to try those gross little dried fish that everyone here claims are “tamu sana” or very sweet. I want to laugh at myself when I slip in the foot deep puddles of mud. And I want to savour the moments, good and bad, that I know will last me a lifetime.

I guess I look towards the future when life gets tough here. And that’s ok. But I also can’t overlook the fact that I should be appreciating the days that I have here as well. I quote from the book I just finished, puts it in good words:

“So if she were granted one small wish, perhaps it would only have been not to know. Not to know what each day held in store for her. Not to know where she might be, next month, next year. Ten years on. Not to know which way her road might turn and what lay beyond the bend” The God of Small Things

Night,

Jenny

Teacher, teacher! I see the vena cava! It’s moments of true understanding, like a student’s excitement at seeing a heart dissection, that make the long, often 14 hour, days worthwhile. This is the end of my Teacher on Duty week, where I have been the teacher responsible for everything that goes on at the school compound. I’ve been waking up at 5 am, leaving my house before sunrise (which results in me often slipping in the mud- and to my great misfortune cow pies) and stay at school until after sunset. I don’t think that I have ever worked this hard in my life. I go to sleep exhausted, but fulfilled. But the long hours are wrecking havoc on my cleanliness. I’ve been trying to ignore the disgusting pile of dishes that I have to wash and that I know are a breeding ground for the already growing colony of cockroaches in my house. I’ve been putting off washing my clothes because it just takes me so gosh-darn-long to pump and carry water. And when decided whether it’s more important to cook or heat my bath water, unfortunately for those around me, eating takes priority. I’ve decided that cooking takes too much effort so I have resorted to Peace Corps cuisine which includes crackers and jam and ramen. I’ve concocted all sorts of one-pot dinners like rice and lentils or kale and plaintains (Would Ina Garten hail my ingenuity or abhor my laziness?) Either way, I am glad that this long week has finally come to an end. At least next week I can sleep in until 6:30am! (Wow, how things have changed since my college days!).

I cry myself to sleep a lot. Not because I’m sad or homesick (which sometimes does happen), but there are moments when I cannot believe the poverty that surrounds me. With such extreme poverty, there are cultural and social repercussions. It is a male dominated society. Wives are inherited by the deceased’s brothers. Men beat their wives. And what breaks my heart the most is parents beat their children. One of my students missed a week of her exams because her guardian beat her so hard she bled continuously for days. When my Form 4 students did poorly on their exams, they were caned, because as my principal said, “Some Africans only understand the word of the cane.” It’s psychologically draining to constantly see kids hit, puppies whacked, and wives with bruised faces. What can I do when it is so culturally ingrained in people’s minds that physical punishment is acceptable? Am I insane to think that I can make a difference here? In a society that does not value women's rights nor choice, how can I make an impact? Do I turn a blind eye to corporal punishment because it is “just part of the culture?” And what do I tell my student, who has no one else to turn to, when she asks me what to do about her abusive guardian? These are the questions that fill my head as I get into bed each night and because I have yet to find a solution, I cry myself to sleep.

Living in a foreign country has its extreme ups and downs. There are times when I am ecstatic to be here and think that every little detail of my life is amazing. Sometimes I enjoy pumping water, the long walk to school, and all the children that are constantly trying to touch my “white” skin. Then there are other times when it is too hot. And all I want is a cold shower and/or a pool to cool down and the last thing I want to do is cross a blazing hot field to get to work. Today, all I could think about was how much I missed a dishwasher. I don’t quite understand why all of my emotions seem to be amplified tenfold. Maybe it’s the Mefloquine. Maybe it’s still me adjusting to a new environment. Either way, now I know what it is like to experience menopausal mood swings.

I had a really enjoyable weekend in Kisumu. I ate a ton of delicious pizza (although still not as yummy as T-birds), went swimming at a hotel (amazing!), drank lots of cold Tusker beer, consumed a month’s worth of ice cream, and did some serious second hand shopping (I was getting real tired of wearing the same 5 skirts!). I had lots of fun comparing embarrassing stories, choo nightmares, and other moments that only other Peace Corps volunteers can relate to. While my original intention of going to town was to watch the Superbowl, I couldn’t even stay awake to watch it (it started at 2am here- way past my 10pm bedtime). We found a hookah lounge, watched American TV (well, kind of, the first season of America’s Got Talent was on), and saw a movie (Avatar = best movie ever). And to top off an amazing weekend, I finally received my Christmas & birthday presents from the states. I was so happy to receive lots of goodies from friends and family (Twizzlers, Godiva chocolate, and magazines can really cure any homesickness!) So thank you Mom, Dad, Joni, David, and Melissa!

I returned to Magwar refreshed and ready to teach. I missed my students. And I missed the rural life. I missed everyone greeting me in dhoLuo (even though I don’t understand anything they say, I still appreciate the effort).

One excited event of the week was that I started a sanitary napkin making project at the school. As I mentioned earlier, many of the students said that availability of sanitary napkins was a daily challenge. They are simply too expensive for many students to afford. Some students use old blankets, dirty clothes, leaves, or do not come to school at all. I brainstormed sustainable solutions and thought I would try making pads from cotton and gauze. I contacted a nurse in Kisumu who took me to purchase the supplies necessary and taught me how to make them (it’s really quite easy!). Yesterday, I taught my students how to make them and they all were enthusiastic about the project. When I enquired if any would be willing to help me sell them, every hand in the classroom was raised! The materials to make approximately 100+ sanitary pads costs 690 shillings (about ten dollars). We’ll be selling them to the students for 6 shillings each which is less than half the cost they would normally have to pay! I’m excited that there is now a suitable option

I also wrote and administered my first Kenyan exams. The grading system is a bit different here (a 70% is an A). Some of my students did extremely well. To reward those that scored high, I invited the top 3 students from each grade to my house to watch a movie. They chose Center Stage and we had fun watching it and eating spaghetti.

I am looking forward to getting to know all of my students on an individual basis. I know most of their names and interests. Some of them have approached me for guidance and counseling questions (I’ve heard about early pregnancy, abortions, abusive parents, and poverty issues that make me cry inside). Two days ago, I accompanied a student to the VCT (Voluntary Counseling and Testing) to get HIV tested. And I tutor students at my house on the weekends. By building these personal relationships, I hope to truly make a positive impact in their lives.

I’m learning a lot from them as well. I realized that many of them are more responsible than I may ever be (they wash, clean, cook, and take care of siblings -chores that I don’t do so well). They are diligent and persevering in their attitude towards school (if I had to be at school from 6:40 to 5:20 each day I would do a lot more complaining than they do!) I’m learning to be appreciative of the things I have taken for granted (like a secondary school education). And together we are learning about one another’s culture (I learned Kenyan women only wash their hair once per month and I was asked “If you don’t bathe for a month will your hair look like ours?) Cross cultural exchange makes me smile 

And A Few Revelations….

1. In Kenya, teeth are a multitool. You can use your teeth to open bottles, shuck sugercane, tear rubber tires (yes, I’ve seen it done!), and many other things (sorry, Dr. Hall D.D.S.)

2. Petrol stations don’t, despite their name, always have petrol. You can misleadingly pull up to a petrol station, hoping for petrol. But, alas, the latest shipment from Mombasa is yet to arrive.

3. Kenyans want to be fat. Being fat is a sign of wealth. They try to get me to eat heaping plates of food. They think I am not yet fat. Some have told me that they want me to go back to the states unrecognizable to my family because I’m so fat. I told them, that despite my love for food, I don’t think I want to be unrecognizably obese….ever.

4. Speaking of food, I have made a Kenyan improvised S’more. Using two digestive biscuits, some melted Cadbury chocolate, and marshmallows shipped all the way from the states, I now have my favorite American treat!

5. “It’s always tea time in Kenya” Kenyans drink more tea than I thought humanly possible. Even when it is sweltering hot, Kenyans will offer me steaming hot tea. I politely refuse and silently wonder how it is possible to consume hot drinks when it feels hotter than 100 degrees?!

Ok, I’m sure I’ll be adding to this list soon!

Love to you all,

Jenny

Many of you have asked for pictures of my community, students, school etc. In Kenya, internet usage is charged by the megabyte so from my personal modem it is too expensive to upload pictures. However, now that I am in town, I can put up a few pictures. Enjoy!

Here are some of my students at their morning assemble. They are singing the Kenyan pledge of allegiance. Most schools in Kenya require uniforms and shaved heads for equality purposes as many cannot afford to upkeep their hair.

These are some of my Form 3 students working on a group project about Classification. The concept of group work is very new to them. Numbering off in small groups took nearly half a lesson!

Here are some of my Form 2 students preparing for their Biology Exam that they took yesterday. They did "well" on their first CAT (continual assessment tests)with an average score of 14/30. The scoring in Kenya is a bit different (a 70% is considered an A for science and math subjects). I am really working on developing their critical thinking skills. Many Kenyan students are so used to rote memorization, rather than understanding concepts. So we do fun activities in class like games, plays, songs, dances, and hands on activities to help them really comprehend the material.

Here is a picture of my house (with a baby cow whose pies I have to carefully avoid every morning. It is very large for one person. I have two bedrooms (one I've converted into my reading/yoga room), a giant living room (which the nyanya so kindly furnished with furniture straight out of That 70s Show), a kitchen (with a gas stove which is so much easier to cook with than charcoal), and a storage room where I cook. My bathroom and choo are outside. I am very comfortable in my home and am so thankful for the amenities that I have (most other volunteers do not have electricity) .

And here are some cute Kenyan children that I met on my walk to school one day. There are tons of adorable children everywhere I go. It may be difficult for me to return to the states without one......

And here is a picture from the funeral I attended. This is the first day of the funeral in which the body is brought back to the rural home. There is a procession of vehicles that followed the body from Kisumu. The cars honk and mourners wave tree branches out of the window. Once back to the rural home, community members wail and scream and cry for a few hours. Then they dance, sing, eat, and drink to celebrate a life well lived.

These are some pictures from before I came to my site. This is me with my host family on my last day in Loitokitok. I have them to thank for my warm welcome to the country.

This is my adorable host brother, Morris, at the Peace Corps’ host family appreciation lunch. Most Kenyans don’t smile in pictures (for what reason I don’t know), but I taught him the American “cheese” said for picture taking. He has a big smile like me!

Here are my friends, Christine and Whitney, eating sushi (yes, sushi!) in Nairobi. It's amazing how much I miss food! There is not much variety in foods here (mostly maize consumed in all shapes and forms)and some seasonal fruits and vegetables. Eating things like sushi, pizza, hamburgers and ice cream is such a luxury.

This was at our swearing in ceremony at the ambassador’s house on January 6th. This is when we officially became Peace Corps volunteers. This is me and a yummy cake to celebrate 45 years of service in Kenya.

Three of the volunteers from our training class were chosen to write and give our swearing in speech. Brian gave it in English, Shannon gave it in Kenyan Sign Language, and I gave it in Kiswahili. We spoke about the challenges, embarrassing moments, and memorable times that we had throughout pre-service training. (Sorry, I don't know how to rotate this picture!)

Kenya Channel 24 broadcasted part of the ceremony. Here I am on the national evening news!

This is me and my supervisor Matilda at our swearing in ceremony. She is the principal at my school and is an AMAZING woman. She does great things for the students and is so dedicated to her work. She is my life role model.

And here are my closest Peace Corps friends. They’re great and keep me laughing all the time.

Ok, I hope you enjoyed seeing some snapshots of my life here in Kenya. I will try to put up more soon, but slow and expensive internet makes it difficult (this took me almost two hours!) Hope you are all doing well, update me when you get a chance. I really enjoy hearing about the "real world!"

Love,

Jenny

I came out of my “slump” pretty fast and I have some amazing community members to thank for helping me realize that I should not be wallowing in self pity. A few things happened that made my attitude change. First of all, the nyanya, seeing how sad I was about the death of my bunny, rounded up some neighborhood boys to find me a replacement. They came back with the world’s biggest rabbit (no magician would ever be able to make it disappear). It was actually more like a medium sized dog. It took some explaining, but I convinced them that this enormous animal would not replace my adorable (and normal sized) bunny. In reality, I do not think I would be able to feed and house a rabbit of that size! Alas, I remain pet-less, but my neighbors’ kindness made me feel loved:)

Another event that really helped change my outlook on life here was meeting the Onyenga Women’s Group. I attended their meeting today and was amazed at the work they have done for the community. They have started so many community projects (a waterhole that people come from 10 km away to use), a diary cow project aimed at teaching members how to successfully raise cattle, a health initiative counseling HIV positive community members, and many more small projects. They have big dreams for the future of our community. They want to make water more accessible, build a resource center to train people in computer literacy, and start an orphanage to aid the many parent-less children in the community. Yet they are also discouraged. They have sent out hundreds of proposals, innumerable requests for donations, and many pleas for aid. But the Kenyan government has too many needy groups (and hello, corruption!), so funding has cut their dreams short. While I do not have any background in grant writing, I hope to aid their cause in finding funds to start community development projects. I don’t know quite how to help in a sustainable, realistic manner. It seems like they have all the components of sustainability (community initiative, interest, enthusiasm) minus the money. Why does it always come back to that?

They initiated me into their group as a member (the youngest by a few generations!) and celebrated by planting a mango tree in front of my house. Here is a picture of the tree planting (which was accompanied by some beautiful singing in dhoLuo about the future growth of the baby tree). They also named the tree nursery Jenny Nursery to commemorate my arrival in their community.

I’ll put up more pictures this weekend when I am in town so check back soon!

Love,

Jenny

I knew this time would come eventually. The day when I would wake up and think, “This sucks.” And that is definitely how I felt this morning. My adorable bunny died (for what reason, I don’t know). I’m tired of carrying water just to take a cold bucket bath. I’m getting sick of the 45 minute walk to school every morning (especially when I have to leave before sunrise to teach morning lessons). And I’m getting REAL sick of people assuming that because I am a mzungu, I have money to throw around (about four people a day ask me for money). I’m discouraged with the lack of critical thinking skills taught in school (my students have only been taught how to memorize information word for word, but have much difficulty in actually understanding concepts). I still don’t understand dhoLuo which makes it hard to feel like I am a part of the staffroom conversations. And to top off my wonderful day, the choo door swung open, while I was mid pee stream, in front of the entire school. And I really miss some American luxuries. I am craving a slice of T-birds pizza, some Yogurtland, a pedicure, and a nice hot shower (Two years seems sooooooo far away to fulfilling these wants).

But all this whining and complaining will change, I know. It seems like emotions are really amplified here; the highs are so high and the lows are so low. Some days I’m so ecstatic to be here, motivated to make a difference, and enthusiastic about doing all the menial tasks of everyday life. But there are some days, like today, when I just think about how much easier life would be in the states (pizza delivery?!?!). But an easy life is not why I joined the Peace Corps. So please don’t be worried that I hate life here. I don’t. I’m just in a dip on the Peace Corps’ emotion rollercoaster.

This weekend I will be visiting Kisumu to treat myself to the closest thing to American luxuries this country has to offer: A movie (in an actual movie theater!), some sunbathing by the pool (there are hotel pools that you can visit for the day), and some new clothes (well, not really new, but second hand clothes or as Kenyans call it “Dead White People Clothing). I am looking forward to meeting up with some Peace Corps volunteers to celebrate a friend’s birthday, eat food besides ugali and githeri, and watch the Superbowl (albeit at 3am in the morning). There is nothing some venting, retail therapy, and a glass of wine can’t cure. I know tomorrow will be a new day (hopefully with no dead bunnies). RIP Abby.

Let me preface this story by saying that age is very skewed in Kenya. For one thing I have no idea how old most Kenyans are. Sometimes I’ll meet an elderly lady on the street who could, in my mind, be 80 years old as her wrinkly skin and missing teeth would predict. Nope, she’s 50. Or I could see a child carrying a bucket that weighs twice as much as him who is only 4 years old. Sometimes I see a 7 year old carrying a newborn on her back while balancing a basket on her head. So maybe I shouldn’t judge my student who thought I was 5 years old. Yes, FIVE. It’s hard to tell people’s age when you are only accustomed to the aging of your own culture. But five? Really? This is how our conversation went:

My student Rosebel: At the funeral, people said you were married to the Kayila son

Me: I’m much too young to be married! And no, I am not married to the Kayila son

Rosebel: How old are you?

Me: How old do you think I am?

Rosebel: I think you are younger than me

Me: No way! You’re in form 2. How old are you?

Rosebel: Sixteen.

Me: So let me get this straight. You think I am younger than sixteen?!?

Rosebel: Yes!

Me: You know I went to secondary school and then university right?

Rosebel: Yes. So you’re not 5?

Me: Noooooooooo

Rosebel: So you’re maybe 14?

Me: Are you serious? 5? 14????

So should I be more disturbed that she thought I was five years old? Or more disturbed that she thought I could be married at this age? Or impressed that she thought I was a child prodigy who completed a degree in Neuroscience at the age of five? Hmmmmm.

On a completely different note, I have seen two dead bodies in the last week (two more than I have seen in my entire life!) But don’t worry, not dead bodies like murder victims or anything of the sort. I’ve been to two funerals this week- and what a celebration funerals are in Luo-land! For one thing, there is lots of dancing, singing, and lots and lots of wailing. It was quite intense to witness. People wail and scream and wail some more. (throwing themselves on the ground, kicking and screaming, and wailing). All the crying and howling is followed by a series of dances and songs and eating. The next day, the deceased is mourned through many eulogies from all the visitors (and there were about a thousand) before he/she is buried in the family’s backyard. Yes, this may seem strange. Being buried in the backyard is a ceremony that we Americans reserve for our household pets (minus the unlucky goldfish). But to the Luo people, being buried at home is like coming full circle. You must be buried in the place you were born in order for your spirit to feel at rest. The funerals here seem like much more of a party, they could easily be mistaken for a wedding or big birthday party. And I agree to some extent, the Luo are celebrating a life well lived, and that is a reason to rejoice.

Another random fact, I got my first Kenyan pet today! It is an adorable baby bunny. She is about the size of my palm and is so cute. I bought her for 50 shillings (.75 cents) from Rosebel’s little brother. He was going to breed her and then eat her! So I’m happy I saved her from a future of sex slavery and human consumption. Anyways, she will be keeping me company in my big, lonely house until the day that I add on to my pet collection. One of my colleague’s dogs is pregnant so I will soon have a puppy as well! I’m seriously horrified of the way that Kenyans treat animals. They throw rocks at dogs, hit puppies, torture kittens, and do all sorts of things that would really irk even a non- PETA supporter. So I’m hoping to soon have a small animal sanctuary free from the Kenyan culture of pet abuse!

And on another random note, does anybody have any suggestions for what people can use in place of pads? I made an anonymous question box so my students can ask questions without feeling embarrassed; A major source of their anxiety is the fact that sanitary napkins are inaccessible to them. For one thing, they are expensive (about 70 shillings for 8 which can be more than a full day’s earnings). Therefore, some of the students resort to using dirty clothes and old blankets instead. And sometimes, at the expense of their education, they just stay at home while on their periods. It breaks my heart that this seemingly menial necessity is widely unavailable. I’ve been buying pads for some students- but this is an unsustainable and costly solution. So do any of you have any suggestions? Please help!

And lastly, please let me know if you would like a Kenyan penpal. I’m trying to match up my Form 4 students with an American penpal. They are in desperate need of good role models and just someone to talk to. And they just have more questions about America than I can answer (see my earlier blog entry). You would just have to write them once a month or once every other month. Having a friend in America is a very exciting idea to them. Send me your address if you are interested.

Hugs from Kenya,

Jenny

P.S. Thank you soo sooo sooo much to those of you that have donated or will be donating to my school. I can’t thank you enough! You are doing a wonderful thing for my students.

I’m not quite sure how to describe the emotions I’ve felt today. I feel like I’m being pulled from opposite ends of the emotion spectrum. I feel helpless and helpful at the same time. I feel hopeless and hopeful too. Let me explain, today, was the first day that I truly realized the poverty that I’ve been living in. Sure I’ve been living here for over two months, but the excitement of being in a new environment truly masked the “real” life of a Kenyan. Carrying water on my head, walking 45 minutes to school, and eating 10 cent meals was fun and new. To me, living here has been an adventure.

But today, I realized that my temporary adventure is what other people here call life. And for many Kenyans, it’s a struggle just to get by. Carrying water on their heads, walking hours to school and eating cheap meals isn’t exciting- it’s what they do to survive.

This realization sunk in today when I spoke to my school’s principal about the possibility of sponsoring students. Many of them cannot afford to pay their school fees- the family’s either do not have the money, give their son’s education priority, and/or assume that their daughters don’t deserve an education. I have been receiving emails from some friends and family back home interested in donating somehow, so I breached the subject with principal. She told me that yes, we have needy students. But I had no idea just how needy she meant.

She continued to tell me the stories of some of the students. One was raped by her father, ran away from home, and now lives with distant relatives in order to complete her education. A majority of the students are orphans living with kind strangers. Two of my students are pregnant. All of them struggle to purchase sanitary napkins (which are expensive) and often resort to prostitution to pay for them. Many students have children of their own. Some of my Form 2 students (sophomores) are older than me.

The lowest/highest part of my day was when I told one of the students that I had found a sponsor for her. She would be able to move out of her house and move into the boarding section of our school. She would no longer have to walk an hour to school, cook and clean for her family, and worry about paying her school fees. The sponsor would pay for her tuition for the year- she burst into tears in happiness/relief/ and any other emotion one would feel with a huge weight lifting from your shoulders. I asked her what other things she would need in order to move into the school. She told me she would need slippers, a blanket, sanitary napkins, and toothpaste- things she has never had before.

I left the room and cried behind a tree for a good 30 minutes. Her single parent mother had never been able to buy these things for her. Her story made me feel so happy and so devastated at the same time. She will now be able to finish her secondary school education. She now has the possibility of going to college. She will now have the opportunity for a different future. Yet I felt so disheartened at the same time. How can she be so enthusiastic about education (asking me so many questions and participating in class) when she had all these troubles at home? How can she be so happy and motivated all the time when she doesn’t have a blanket to sleep with at night?

Part of me feels so foolish and ignorant for living in my “adventure bubble.” And the other part of me feels incredibly motivated. I can do a lot to change the future of these girls’ lives. And I truly hope that with dedication, mentoring, and encouragement my students will be able to decide their own futures, rather than let cultural/social norms force them to drop out of school. I am motivated to keep my students in school so that they will be able to find and follow their dreams. I ideally want to find a way to keep all the students in school, and then, as a long term goal, build a laboratory for the girls to actually see why science is important.

Please be on the look out for an email from me soon on how YOU can sponsor a student at my school. And spread the word too. There is so much that can be done here, but I need help to do so.

Love,

Jenny

So folks, I’ve been at site for a little over a week now, and I thought I would share with you some of the funnier moments of my being here- don’t worry I won’t be offended if you laugh at me- I have definitely found laughter to be the best medicine

Questions from my students on the first day of lessons:

Is there grass in America?

Are there trees in America?

Is your hair real? If so, can I buy it and make a weave?

You’ve had hair like that since you were born?!?!?!?!

When was the last time you shaved your head? (girls at my school must shave their heads for equality reasons)

If you live here for two years, will you be as dark as me? (my response : maybe, if I don’t wear sunscreen and want skin cancer!)

If I go to America, will my skin become as light as yours?

In America, does everyone look like you?

Why are your lips so much thinner than ours? (Hmmm, good question)

Are there fat white people?

In America, do people pay Africans to brush their dog’s teeth? (My response: No, but some people do brush their dog’s teeth. I told them about the chicken flavored toothpaste Tootsie used to have and they thought it was the strangest thing ever!)

Comments from other Kenyans:

“By Kenyan standards, you are old! You should be married with 3 children right now. Kenyans will laugh at you because you are not married. Get married tomorrow!”- the bike taxi man

“Can you see the sun in America?”- Biology teacher at my school

Embarrassing moments:

-Tucking my skirt into my underwear- in front of my entire host family

-Completely misunderstanding things on a daily basis (Kenyan English is not the same as American English. For example, alight and fullstop have been added to my vocabulary)

-Attempting to carry water on my head= epic fail. I walked into a tree branch knocking the water all over my face, body, everywhere!

Anyways, hope some of these moments made you smile. I will be sending try to update more often, but I’ve been quite busy! Actually, things just take me a lot longer to do than a Kenyan. For instance, getting water takes up a good portion of my time. With the skill of carrying water on one’s head (which 5 year olds can do here) walking with water would be much easier. However, for the uncoordinated, like myself, balancing 20 liters on your head can be a huge task. So I have to resort to carrying small buckets back and forth from the pump to my house. Other things that take awhile- washing clothes (no spin cycle here!), washing dishes (my least favorite chore), cooking (seriously, be thankful you have a microwave), and walking (not complaining here, but everyone on the street greets me and shakes my hand- it takes soooo long to get from point A to point B here). My days are long, starting before dawn and ending much after dark. But being busy has kept me energetic and not homesick.

For those of you reading this, I cannot thank you enough for your positive encouragement. I really appreciate your kind words and inspirational thoughts. In addition, I have had many requests for a way to donate to my school. I am currently in the works of drafting a fundraising email- so check your inboxes soon.

Much love and smiles,

Jenny

As I celebrate my 23 years of being alive, I thought it would be a good idea to share with you some of the observations I have made about life in Kenya thus far:

1. I am now an official Peace Corps volunteer! I parted ways with the other volunteers yesterday and will be living on my own.

2. I gave the swearing- in speech at the American ambassador’s house in Swahili! It made the national news!

3. I am so lucky to have been placed in my work site. I am in a town near Lake Victoria which is absolutely beautiful. I am surrounded by greenery and fields of maiz.

4. I have a beautiful house at my site. It is very large (much more than I expected!) with 2 rooms, a kitchen, a dining room, and a verandah.

5. I have electricity in my house which makes me feel very privileged as only a few people in the whole town can afford it.

6. As I unpacked my belongings, I am forever glad that I packed Snowball. No matter where I am, or how old I may get, she is a consistent source of comfort!

7. I live about 45 minutes away from my school, so I will have a nice walk every morning.

8. I live on a compound with an elderly couple who are so hospitable. They have been feeding me delicious Luo food too! The nyanya (grandmother) will be teaching me how to cook someday soon.

9. I met my future students today and they seem like very intelligent girls. There are about 120 students at the all girls school I will be teaching at. Some interesting things about the school are that all the girls must shave their head because many are too poor to keep it clean otherwise. They all much wear a uniform including collared shirt and tie. And they all call me Madame (which makes me feel slightly like a brothel owner-oh well!).

10. The principal at my school is an inspiring person. She works so hard, has many ideas for the school, and is very enthusiastic about her job. She has transformed the school in the past 2 years. It is now 3 classrooms. Within the next few, it will hopefully have a laboratory and living quarters for the students. She has a huge heart too and takes in orphans who cannot afford to go to school.

11. There are 7 other teachers at my school, only 3 of which are trained. The others are straight from secondary school meaning they are very young to be teaching!

12. I will be teaching Form 1 Math (freshman), Form 2 & 3 Biology (sophomore and junior) and all Forms Life Skills. Life skills will teach things like self confidence, building relationships, setting goals etc. etc. I have a lot of work to do this weekend in preparing for my lessons! I have to write lesson plans and schemes of work for the whole term.

13. I was equally motivated and disheartened by hearing my principal’s explanations for why girls so often fail in the Kenyan school system. Partly because of household chores (ie carrying water for many hours out of the day) or because of the common belief that girls don’t deserve an education (many parents only will pay for their sons to attend secondary school). While disturbing to hear, I now feel like I have a duty to influence these girls’ lives.

14. Water is scarce in my town. My babu (grandfather) offered part of his land for a borehole to be built many years ago. People walk hours to our house in order to pump water for just 2 shillings/ 20 liters. This makes me think of how much I took running water for granted.

15. I went shopping at the local market and am happy that I can buy mangoes, bananas, tomatoes, sweet potatoes, and kale for just a few cents each.

16. In my town, I am able to buy only the basics- some fruit and vegetables, flour, etc. For all other things I must travel to Kisumu city. It is a 1.5 hour walk to the main road where I will catch an hour matatu ride to the city.

17. Today, I learned how to put together and use a lantern. I bought a fanta of kerosene (so called as they use an old fanta bottle to measure it) at the market and will be using it in case there is no electricity.

18. I am very lucky to have been shown around town by a fellow teacher named Emma. She is only 19 years old, but she is amazingly mature. She helped me move into my new home, bargain at the market, and taught me how to pump water.

19. While I miss my host family in Loitokitok, I finally am starting to feel settled. I like having my own space and being able to call a place home. I am comfortable living here and cannot wait for the time when I will be able to communicate in the local language of dhoLuo. It is very difficult to learn as it is a tonal language, but I hope to understand it soon!

20. I am consistently overwhelmed by the friendliness of Kenyans. Nowhere in the states would you find someone willing to let a stranger, from a foreign country, live next to their house and teach them the basics of life. I am very thankful that my inability to live on my own here has not translated to stupidity! (ex. I still don’t know how to heat my bucket bathe water on my own- a skill that Kenyans learn around the age of 6).

21. I have recently realized how different my life is today than it was one year ago. For instance, I am immune to the giant cockroaches that are staring at me from the ground. If this had been at my apartment in LA I would be Raiding them to a toxic death. Also, I am now perfectly content with a refreshing bucket bath outside, when last year I would have complained to my landlord about the lack of hot water. I have learned to eat ugali and rice with my hands a la Kenyan style. Just last year I would have much rather eaten with a fork. I am surprised with how fast, and with what ease, I have acclimated to life here.

22. I was given a Luo name. The Luo people give names based on the time of day he/she was born. Since I was born in the evening my Luo name is Achielo. I don’t remember the rest of it in dhoLuo, but it is roughly translates to “Born in the evening daughter of Abiero” (Abiero is the name of my school).

23. I am incredibly excited and motivated for the time that I get to spend in Kenya. I can’t explain in words how grateful I am to be here. So many people have invested so much time and effort into making me feel comfortable here- all because they think that I will make a difference in their community. And I truly hope I won’t let them down. While I don’t want to set my or the community’s expectations too high, I feel like I can make some tangible improvements in the time that I am here. I think about how just 2000 shillings ( a little over 20 dollars) can send a girl to secondary school for one whole year or how a few dollars could drastically increase the number of textbooks available. - I just cannot think that I won’t be able to make a positive impact here. Hearing these facts made me seriously rethink all the frivolous purchases I have made in the recent past ( 40 pairs of shoes? Seems a little extravagant in retrospect). And while I miss my friends and family back home, I can truly say that I am content being here. I feel independent and I feel like I have a purpose. I know that two years is a long time (When I return to the states in 2013, I’ll be 25 years old!), but as of now I feel like two years is so short, as I have much to do!

I hope you enjoyed learning about these tidbits of my life here. I will try to keep you updated as much as possible, but I foresee a VERY busy next few weeks/months. If you want to send me a letter, package, or anything, my new address is:

Jenny Nakata

Bishop Abiero Girls

Secondary School- Magwar

P.O. Box 42- 40131

Paw Akuche

Kenya

Wishing you all a happy new year and much love,

Jenny

Water here is life. When the intense rainstorms come, like it did today, my mama is ecstatic. She begins to call the nearby towns where her shambas (maiz and bean farms) are located to see if it, indeed, is raining there too. The rain shakes the walls here and the tin roof amplifies the sound so it wakes even the soundest sleeper up at night. And while I used to complain about the hassle of all the mud ( I seriously have never witnessed so much mud in my life!) I know the rain is necessary for the crops. Rain is like Christmas here. My family gets so happy, runs outside with buckets, and calls friends- much like Christmas day in the US. For you to get an idea of the intense rain, here is a picture of my friend Chris and the RIVER of rain that formed on the main street after only a few minutes of Kenyan rain.

The food here has been surprisingly delicious. Where variety lacks, ingenuity prevails. Like I’ve mentioned before I love chapatti – a delicious tortilla / naan like bread eaten with beans or cabbage. Another common dinner for my family, who are Kikuyu (one of the 43 tribes in Kenya), is githeri. Githeri is a mixture of maiz kernels, beans, and potatoes. Very filling, and very delicious (especially with avocado!). And I am finally getting used to eating ugali (maiz and water mixed to the consistency of clay) and sukumawiki (kale cooked with onions and tomatoes). I used to be a mess in my attempt to eat ugali with my hands, but my technique has improved over the past few weeks.

During the week, I eat lunch in town at one of the restaurants. There are maybe 10 small restaurants that offer a few things each day. The concept of a menu is very different here. While the restaurant may have a menu with 30 different items, there are most likely 4-5 options for the day. You can get a good cheap meal of chapatti and beans for 50 shillings ( 70 cents) or an expensive nice meal of rice and grilled vegetables for 100 shillings ($1.50). My definition of expensive has definitely changed. I say expensive because A. I’m on a Peace Corps salary now and B. I am starting to think in shillings, and 100 shillings can buy you a lot here!

Here is a picture of my host brother's best friend Taqueen eating the spaghetti I made last weekend. They LOVED it! My mama wants me to make it again every weekend.

I also baked a cake today for my host brother's birthday. Well, actually it was a few days ago, but he never mentioned his birthday until I asked! Apparently, birthdays are not a big deal here, my host mom forgot that it was her own son's bday!!!!It was a little difficult without an oven, but I baked it by covering a pot with charcoal. After an hour of cooking in this makeshift oven, the cake turned out tamu sana (very sweet!). I will definitely be baking in the weeks to come so I can figure out what works best with the materials I have available. Improvising is one of the great skills that I am picking up as a peace corps volunteer…who would have known that I would be cooking cakes with charcoal ovens? Maybe, the Food Network is interested in a Kenyan version of Ace of Cakes??

Much Love,

Jenny

Dear friends and family,

Please don’t be offended by the following statement: the things I miss most right now are pants and frozen yogurt. Now I too was surprised by these recent discoveries. I had imagined that the 3 F’s (Family, Friends, and Food) would be the things I would miss right away. However, my freedom to wear what I please is strictly prohibited by cultural norms. As a women living in rural Kenya, I am not allowed to wear pants in public. Instead, I am stuck with long skirts…all day, everyday. As I constantly remind myself to cross my legs at the ankle and hike up my skirt to allow for jumping over mud puddles, I long for the ability to just put on a pair of pants! I never quite realized the luxury of wearing pants. Your thighs don’t rub together. You don’t have to wear a slip. You don’t have to cross your legs all the time. Sigh…..those were the days of thigh rubbing freedom.

Now my second longing, is frozen yogurt. For starters there is nothing cold in this entire town. On hot days, an ice cube is all I can think about, but a lukewarm soda is the best I can get. I seriously daydream about Yogurtland. Or maybe just anything remotely colder than room temperature. I was used to living near Pinkberry and Yogurtland’s deliciousness which does not make into an easy transition to the freezer-less reality of Loitokitok, Kenya. Does anyone want to invent a mail-able frozen yogurt container..if so, a desperate Peace Corps volunteer would really appreciate some Yogurtland cheesecake frozen yogurt with strawberries please!

Happy Thanksgiving friends and family! Over on the other side of the world, we were lucky enough to have our own Peace Corps Thanksgiving celebration …turkey and all! Using the ingredients found at the local market, we cooked sausage stuffing (mom’s recipe), spinach, mashed potatoes, rice, 3 chickens and a turkey. The poor turkey was still alive when we got to the Outward Bound training site. Somehow seeing a live animal before you eat it makes it much less appetizing. But, the food was delicious and we were completely stuffed, just like a Thanksgiving at home!To add to the cultural exchange, we performed a reenactment of the first Thanksgiving for our language trainers (complete with pilgrim hats and Native American headdresses). We then made hand turkeys, said what we were thankful for, and played pin the gobble on the turkey. Our holiday ended with a bonfire (but sadly no s’mores, no one here knows what a marshmallow even is!!!!) and some Tusker beer. All in all this was a Thanksgiving to remember.

And even more good news (that maybe tops a Thanksgiving feast) is that I found out where I will be living and teaching for the next two years. I will be in a rural town located outside of Kisumu. Located in the Nyanza province, Kisumu is the third largest city in Kenya and is near Lake Victoria and the Ugandan border. Lucky for me I will be eating lots of samaki (fish) in the next few years. I will be teaching Biology and Math at a small all girls school. There are only 92 students and 7 teachers. The school is new ( next year will be the first year that there are students in grade 12) and therefore has relatively few resources compared with an older school. I will be living a few kilometers from the school on a compound with another family. I will have electricity and a well to get water from. I’ll be living in a 2 bedroom house, with an outdoor choo, and indoor bathing area. I hear there is a veranda as well! While I am a bit nervous to be living on my own, I am very excited to see my future home for the next two years.

I am still studying Kiswahili on a daily basis and learning a lot from my everyday interactions with my host family and neighbors. Last week I took my first Language Proficiency Exam (LPI) and scored Novice-high! I only need to improve by one level in order to fulfill the Peace Corps' language requirements. If/when I do pass the LPI I will start studying Luo which is the language spoken in the Nyanza province. It is quite amazing how many languages are spoken here. With 43 tribes the number of languages heard on a daily basis is overwhelming! Lucky for me, English and Kiswahili are the national languages so I will be teaching in English.

The weather here is getting colder and everyone here is thankful for the rain. As my mama says, no rain no food. When it rains here it REALLY rains. The rain brings out the “mdudu” or the insects which some people here catch in the air and eat! I have yet to try this Kenyan delicacy and am not sure if I will. Speaking of food, my mama here is very happy that I have been eating more. I am now getting used to the giant Kenyan proportions and can now eat 3 chapati when only a few weeks ago I could only finish 1!!!

I am now pretty adjusted to the lifestyle here. The bucket baths, choo, and hand washing of clothes no longer are shocking experiences to me. I am starting to understand more and more Kiswahili which has in turn made me more comfortable in my environment. While I have not been too homesick, I do miss my friends and family back home. Hopefully some of you will be able to come visit me next year. On a sad note, Tootsie had to be put to sleep…she will be greatly missed. Please send me an update on your lives when you get a chance, I’d love to hear from you!

Hugs from Kenya,

Jenny

Here are some of the Peace Corps Math/Science volunteers Stacey, Whitney, Christine, Margaret and me walking on the road to my house. We usually get chai and chapati at a restaurant in town after a long day of Swahili class and technical training.

And this is a very happy picture of me…why? Because Stacey and I just cooked fajitas and guacamole. It was delicious! Although, my host family was not as excited about it as we were. They thought guacamole was “interesting.” Haha. Tomorrow I am going to make spaghetti for them to try…maybe they will like it better.

This is the beautiful view of Mount Kilimanjaro that I am lucky enough to wake up to every morning. Loitokitok is very close to the Tanzanian border and is at the base of Mt. Kilimanjaro. Hopefully, when Mom and Rob come to visit me next year we will be able to climb up it (it takes one week to reach the top!).

Where ever we go, there is sure to be a swarm of Kenyan children. While they are cute, the incessant screams of “Howroooooo?”( “How are you?” screamed as one long high pitched question) does get annoying. This is a group of children that followed us as we went on an evening walk.

One full week of living the life of a Kenyan has passed by. And I have really learned a lot. A typical day for me is waking up at 6:30 (everyone else wakes up at 5am!), I take a bucket bath, eat chapati (like a tortilla mmmmmmmm!) and some fruit and drink chai (tea). Then, during the week, I have Kiswahili class from 8 am to noon. My language teacher, Mugo, is amazing and incorporates lots of different learning styles into our classes. For instance, we went to the market and learned about asking for prices, bargaining, and types of food.

After language class, I have lunch with some other Peace Corps volunteers in town. There are a few restaurants that I’ve tried so far- but watamu na chapati (beans and chapati) is my favorite meal. Then, in the afternoon I have cultural or technical training with the whole Peace Corps group. We’ve learned about the Kenyan school system which is MUCH different from ours and will begin observing classroom teaching on Monday. After a long day, I walk home to my host family house and study for a bit. My host sister, Maureen, has been a big help in teaching me Kiswahili. They are so nice and have been very helpful in teaching me everything I need to know in order to eventually live on my own.

I’ve learned how to get my water for my bucket bath, purify my water (which is such a process it takes almost an hour of filtering and stirring!), cook githeri (maiz and beans), make chapati, and , finally, I have mastered peeing in a choo! (This may be my biggest accomplishment of the week!). And, my Kiswahili is slowly coming along. I can easily greet people and am beginning to pick up words in conversation….not bad for one week! This week has been a learning process, and as a popular Kenyan saying goes, it will all come together, hatua kwa hatua (step by step)..

On any US roadtrip you may expect to see some roaming cows, wandering horses, and maybe a few beautiful birds, but on our journey to Loitoikitok yesterday zebras, giraffes, and ostriches lined the roadside. Loitoikitok, located on the border of Kenya and Tanzania is a beautiful town with a spectacular view of Mt. Kilamanjaro (or so I’m told, as the clouds have yet to part). The one paved road is bombarded by children yelling Howroo?” over and over again.

My host family consists of baba Macharia, mama Jane, Robert (17), Maureen (13), and Morris (5). My baba is off at university for another month though, so I will be spending most of my time with the mama and kids. They are all very welcoming, helpful, and curious (the children seem to stare at me all the time). On my first night, while talking about America, my mama asked me, “What tribe are you?” and my response was, “Californian?” So there are some definite changes in life that I will be getting accustomed to in the next few weeks, starting with learning the tribes of Kenya.

While the language barrier is not a big problem (because some members of my host family speak English), the use of the choo (toilet) seems to be my biggest challenge. A Kenyan toilet, or choo, consists of a tiny hole in the ground. For someone with years of practice, aiming into said tiny hole would be easy. BUT for me, who is not trained in such an art, it is quite a challenge. I’ll spare you the details, but you try peeing into a 3 inch hole.

There are times when everything seems like a challenge. Take for instance, walking 30 minutes home in the rain. While in the US this would be no problem with the aid of an umbrella, walking on the dirt roads of Loitokitok pose a serious problem for the slightly unbalanced. The rain turns the roads into a muddy mess that cakes to my shoes making me wobble more and more with each step. Thankfully, my host family has been very helpful in my adjustment here, teaching me how to remove inches of dried mud from my shoes with a machete and reminding me to take my rain jacket.

As the week goes on I’m mastering the art of peeing in a choo, eating ugali with my hands, avoiding and killing the giant bugs and spiders that appear in my room, and absorbing as much Kiswahili as possible,

Hey all,

I'm safe and sound in Kenya after waaaaay too long of a flight. I definitely am familiar with JFK and zurich airports now! Anyways, I am now staying at a compound right outside of Nairobi. There are 27 volunteers in my group- we are a mix of Math, Science, and deaf education teachers. We will be here for the next few days doing Health/Safety training (Don't drink the water!, take your malaria meds!,don't look like a tourist!, etc. etc. )

On Saturday we are off to Loitokitok where we will meet our host families for the next few months. I'm getting a little nervous about learning Kiswahili .... we have to pass a proficiency test and I heard that 4 people from the last group went home because they failed :( So far I know two words (jambo and Karibu = welcome)it's a start, right?

Ok, well the internet here is quite slow. I'll let you all know more once I get to our pre-service training site. I updated my mailing address so start writing to me please!

Love,

Jenny

Jambo (hello) family and friends,

As I prepare for my 27 month stint with the Peace Corps in Kenya, many emotions have been running through my head. Excitement (yay, travel!), worry (can I really pack for 2 years?!), and a whole lot of nervousness (No Sweet Peas Chicken Pesto sandwiches for TWO years?!). But I think the most overriding emotion has been thankfulness. I am so thankful for the opportunity to live and work in another country. The Peace Corps combines volunteering and travel, two of my most beloved pastimes. I am so thankful for those who have supported me throughout the long application and decision process. And, in this last month, I have been incredibly thankful for the opportunity to spend time with my family in Hawaii and California and my best girlfriends in Vegas. Family and friends are definitely what I will miss most.

So to keep in touch, I am starting this blog. I’m not sure what my electricity/internet situation will be like. But I’ll try to update and let you know that I am alive whenever possible. I’ll also leave you with my address in case you want to send me a chicken pesto sandwich! ( Just kidding, packages take up to 3 months to get to me!) Here is my address while I am in training for the next three months:

***************EDITED ADDRESS*************

Jenny Nakata

US Peace Corps

P.O. Box 698-00621

Village Market

Nairobi, Kenya

If you get a minute, write to me. I always appreciate snail mail : )

*NOTE ON PACKAGES* Do NOT value package at more than $100.00 on customs form, do NOT write food, electronics, or anything expensive on form. DO write vague descriptions such as education materials, used books, used cloths, personal effects etc. And DO NOT send porn (not that any of you were going to) apparently it's super illegal here... and I do not want to be jailed for possession of pornography :) DHL and UPS are expensive, regular mail is fine to use. Apparently things get here pretty quick (2-3 weeks).

Much of this process has flown by, a whirlwind of applications, travel, and last minute packing. But for those of you that are curious, here is what I know so far about the upcoming months of my Peace Corps journey.

At this moment I am on my way to Philadelphia where I have “Staging” my quick four hour training and registration in the USA. On November 3rd, I embark on the journey to Kenya (JFK-> to Zurich -> Nairobi). I’ll be spending a few nights in the capitol before taking a 8 hour bus ride to the southern border to a town called Loitokitok. Here is where I will live with a host family for the next three months. I’ll be learning Swahili as well as some technical, health/safety aspects of the job. Then on January 7th 2010 (my 23rd birthday!), I’ll be moving to my site where I will live and teach high school science for the next two years. Writing about this makes me excited to meet new people, try new foods, learn a new language, and travel another country. Hopefully, I’ll soon be a Kenya expert and can give those of you that come to visit me a tour of the country ;)

Ok, check back later for updates!

Much love,

Jenny