This New Year has brought with it noticeable changes. Some New Years come and go without notice, but not this time. You can smell it in the air, you can see it in the new faces at work, you can feel it in the cracks beneath your feet as you walk, and I can sense it in my attitude. We have officially moved from the rainy season (one for the record books) to the hot, dry season in Lusi. And though the mold which took up residence on my cement floor and walls during the rainy season persists, I think I can see it growing weaker by the day. Warm gusts of wind blowing off the sun-baked and cracked dirt paths bring the summery smell of drying grasses and the temperature soars in the middle of the day (though, thankfully, not as high as in Garissa). The dirt paths I walk on my way to work have gone from mud-filled to desiccated in a few weeks. Where puddles once were, there are now holes in the ground that look like they might have any manner of living thing inside them or like they may open up and swallow you if you step in the wrong place. In the evenings the air turns cool and the stars sparkle as bright as I have ever seen in my life. Unfortunately, warm days and cool nights means that the mosquitoes are back as well. Even though it’s only been a few weeks since the rainy season ended, water is already scarce. In a few more days (or maybe a few weeks if we are lucky) we’ll be paying for water to be trucked in for storage in the tanks at work. It’s incredibly hard to imagine that just over a month ago we were all praying for an end to the torrential rains and all 10 10,000Ltr tanks at work were filled to overflowing.

But the lack of rain also has its up-sides. There is constant activity at Rafiki now as construction projects, delayed by the prolonged rainy season, have begun in full force driven by the threat of the next rainy season in March or April. In addition to construction activities, our program staff have hit the ground running this year in an effort to catch up on lost time (mainly due to the exams in schools making activities impossible for the better part of October and November). I am also supervising a new program which started this month so the staff have been getting oriented with the program, planning and strategizing for the past couple weeks. A new staff for the M&E department, 2 new staff for the new program (focusing on child participation through the child-to-child approach and getting children involved in their own IGAs), and a new staff for our health program bring the number of staff I’m supervising up to 11. This means, my days are split between 3 programs and the M&E department and then I try to find some time to fit in my own work. As we settle in to the programs and the routine of our new activities, things will calm down and give me a chance to get back to focusing on how I can best share my skills and ideas before I have to leave.

Thankfully, since the holiday break I am feeling a new sense of calm and am able to take things as they come much better than I have before. Perhaps I’m finally learning the lesson Kenya has been trying to teach me all along. Do what you can with what you have and the time you are given (even if all of those things change constantly). Of course there are still times when I lose my patience, but I feel like I have learned so much about myself in the past 3 months, and it has given me a new sense of strength; strength I am going to need to juggle all of these activities. Things have changed a lot for me since my decision to extend my service in August. It’s been a hard transition not having my closest friends around, but I have learned a lot about myself and I feel stronger for the experience, even if it has probably been the most challenging of my life. I have a great group of new friends and, thanks to a mutual resolution to be fit this year, an active after-work life (I know it’s hard to imagine in the village, but it’s true). So with this New Year, I feel older and wiser, and oddly more “myself” than I have in a really long time. My next task is to adjust to the idea that this is my last year in Kenya and in 7 short months I’ll be saying goodbye to this country that has in so many ways become my home.

My holidays were amazing. It started with a work holiday party, for which I created some fun holiday cards out of cardstock, tape, colored pencils and nail polish (you learn to be resourceful as a Peace Corps Volunteer). The party really only consisted of lunch and some of our staff had to leave early before eating because they wanted to get on the road and travel home since it was already the 23rd. Catherine, the VSO volunteer who came to our organization in November, and our colleague Rachael did superlatives and the whole staff voted. I’m really wondering how I come across to my colleagues because I was voted “Most Organized”, but also “Most likely to end up in jail.” Very interesting.

Christmas I spent in Kisumu with some of my new friends. It was a girl party at an AMAZING house in Kisumu. It felt like a holiday in a palace. We eat had our own room and the TV was longer than I am tall. We ate delicious food, baked (BAKED!!) Christmas cookies, listened to holiday music and watched at least one holiday movie, though our intention was to have a Christmas-day movie marathon. Good try. On Christmas day we ate mango pancakes and drank orange-passion screwdrivers on the veranda in the back yard. It was so relaxing and luxurious, but not really your traditional holiday. We then just baked and ate cookies all day until our Mexican food delivery came around 5pm (ordered the day before). Oh yeah, and there was a bottle of tequila in there somewhere. It was a really amazing weekend. So relaxing and exactly what I needed to save me from getting burned out at work. My new friend Steph somehow even got us all to agree to participate in hundredpushups.com. Deidra and I will be competing against Elise and Steph to see which team improves the most at the end of 6 weeks. The prize is fondue from the losing team and we are pretty serious. Unfortunately, I have also placed other bets on my actual ability to do 100 pushups (consecutive) by the end of 6 weeks… that might be harder.

Highlights:

• Getting to skype and talk with family and friends

• Watching the Seahawks game when they played at home vs San Francisco on my Christmas Day (at 12am, but hey, it counts and since I couldn’t stay awake past 2 I went asleep while they were still ahead. Bonus!)

• Christmas cookies!!!

Interlude. I spent two very relaxing and fun days with another PCV at her site between Christmas and New Year’s Eve. She taught me how to knit and I am proud to announce I am ¾ of the way through my first scarf. I also learned how to make granola in a pan on a gas stove and that it can be used to make a very tasty no-bake fruit crisp.

On to Naivasha. I spent 4, freezing cold nights at a camp on Lake Naivasha. Not camping, but staying in the dorms. I met up with Catherine and some of her VSO friends. I love seeing other parts of the country and even though I’ve been to Naivasha before, I learned about so many more things that I have to go back and do. There is a volcano to climb, a lake to hike around, and a million other cool places to go. Guess I’ll have to add it to my list of places to go (too bad I don’t have more time left in Kenya, or more time off work). On New Year’s Day, to signify that this year would be different than the rest, and marked a turning point in my life, I decided to do something totally out of the usual. I ate fish for dinner. My first dinner of the New Year was crayfish pasta and some bites of fish and chips. And I loved every delicious bite of it!!

Highlights:

• Finding a bagel crisp-like snack in the supermarket – it tastes exactly the same, but sadly it only comes in really tiny bags

• I stayed behind on the 31st while everyone else went hiking or biking and had enough luck to meet and have a conversation with two amazing women who worked with Jane Goodall in Tanzania tracking the chimpanzees – we shared a shandy and talked about everything from their experiences of Kenya when they lived here as young ladies, probably around my age or younger, to politics in England and the US (and how ridiculous politicians are)

• Going into Joy Adamson’s old house and learning about her amazing life (and eating LOTS of delicious cake!! Seriously, it’s free when you go to the house… as much as you want – which would have been more if I had not been hung-over from New Year’s Eve. Oops.)

• Getting my money back for some rotten cheese (it was brie and I was so excited to eat it, only to find the most rotten, disgusting cheese imaginable – see picture below) and getting the guy who tried to cheat us and everyone else in the matatu to give us a fair price and stop lying to everyone in the vehicle. Now, I may have started a fight, but since he was cheating everyone and we all subsequently learned the truth, I’ll claim my victory. It sure felt good.

I'll try to add some pictures later when I have a better connection (I tried now but after half an hour it was only at 16% uploaded... pass). For those of you on FB, you can see/have already seen them there.

Cultural and lifestyle differences compared to life in America are everywhere here, and I hardly noticed them anymore. You mean we really don’t shake hands every time we see someone in America?! I just don’t believe that these days. Bucket bathing doesn’t feel weird anymore and living in this community feels like home for the most part. Life doesn’t feel so different. But sometimes the differences slap you right in the face. These are some examples of those cases.

For our technical students, the following was suggested as a rule the breaking of which would classify as a “gross infraction”: Premarital sexual relationships are not allowed.

Say what?!

Now, at first, I thought this was referring to a case with teachers or staff and the students which seemed alright (if an odd use of terminology). When that proved incorrect, my next assumption was that the clause referred to sexual relationships on the school compound. Wrong again. In fact, it referred to a rule against any student engaging in se at any point in their life while they are a student (all premarital sex anyway).

This is such a gross violation of privacy and human rights it horrified me. It’s true that sex at an early age can lead to unwanted consequences (illness, pregnancy, dropping out of school… etc) but it is NOT within the realm of school teachers or school officials to know what their students do with their personal lives. At the very least, they have no right to know. The way to tackle the issue of unwanted consequences of sexual relationships is to teach life skills, counsel students on good decision making, and make sure they get good sex education all with the aim of equipping students with the tools and knowledge to be able to make informed decisions. That should be the role of the school. So says the American.

When we brought up our concerns, my colleague and I discovered that this is a common rule for all secondary schools in Kenya, especially boarding schools. I shared my points and said that I, personally, feel uncomfortable with the rule, but since I can’t know what is appropriate in the Kenyan context the issue should be raised again at another meeting where some other Kenyans can weigh in on the issue. It was eventually decided that there was no need for such a rule, as we are teaching life skills and most of these students are having kids already, but also because we don’t have to follow exactly what the schools do. Rafiki has its own standards and values it needs to uphold and we have to do what is right for the organization. It was really such a strange conversation. On the one hand, my mind was completely blown by the idea of this rule – coming as I do from a place that holds such high value in personal space and privacy. But, looking at it from the Kenyan contex, where it is a village that is responsible for raising a child and parents/adults know best, the rule makes a certain amount of sense (or at least you can see where it comes from). I stand by everything I argued and my opinion holds, but sometimes I have to step back and realize that it is an entirely different culture I’m living in and I have to make sure I’m being culturally sensitive. And that is sometimes a really difficult thing to do.

Also, an experience a couple weeks ago has been a great demonstration of the failures of the public health and medical systems in Kenya. An OVC in our program at Rafiki was bit by a dog so the mama took him to a clinic. The clinic was able to give anti-tetanus but anti-rabies was quoted at 6,000ksh (about $60) and the mama couldn’t afford it. She came to us for help so we began looking into ways of helping her. The problem is that we don’t have 6,000Ksh lying around either. We contacted a friend of a colleague who works at the hospital and he offered to get us all 6 doses for 1,000Ksh under the table. He would basically just steal the vaccines and give them to us. A tempting offer, but we don’t want to buy into the corruption which only serves to keep Kenya in its current, debilitated state.

We kept looking into other options and eventually found a partner organization who would be willing to reimburse us if we arranged for the OVC to get the vaccine. Sweet, problem solved! But not so fast… we called the hospital with this information only to find out that the last doses in stock had been sent to another health facility. In order to get the vaccine to the OVC we would need to travel to Kisumu and purchase the anti-rabies from a chemist. So the next day, I traveled to Kisumu and bought the 6 doses (the complete regimen) for 7,800Ksh and brought it back to the district hospital. Since anti-rabies needs to be kept in cold chain and I had no way for transporting it like that, the chemist put some ice packs into the bag and I rushed as fast as I could (not fast considering Kenyan transportation). It took me about 2.5 hours to get to the hospital. Upon arrival I discovered that the chemist had packed the anti-rabies in a solid block in the middle and the ice only on the bottom so the ice was not as effective as it could have been. But the anti-rabies went straight in the freezer at the hospital labeled for our OVC. By the time he arrived with his mama for the shots it was day 7 post-bite. Anti-rabies is supposed to be started at day 1 or 2 post-bite or efficacy is drastically reduced.

We did everything we could, as fast as we could, and the kid still could have died. At day 7 post-bite with no symptoms he probably didn’t get infected anyway. What could have helped this situation? Any number of very simple things – or things that we, in the developed world take for granted every day: a. Supply chain for anti-rabies to prevent stock outs in the district hospital – though even then, the cost of anti-rabies makes it prohibitively expensive for anyone in the community we work in b. Cheaper medicines for the community c. Anti-rabies vaccines for animals in the community – I’ve heard of programs in other areas of Kenya where children get a 50Ksh (50 cents) stipend to bring their dogs to school for the shots

It breaks my heart the number of simple, preventable things that can take a child’s life here. One of our close partners in the Ministry of Health just lost his 10 month old daughter to an upper respiratory tract infection because the right anit-biotics weren’t given in a timely manner. No one should ever have to know that kind of grief.

I close the door to the small room where I take my bucket bath. To get it to close enough to hitch the latch I have to press down on the middle of the door as I try to get the latch. Tonight, as I press down on the middle of the door my hand touches something unusual. I turn my face and find I’m pressing my hand at a rat. Aaaaah! It jumps down toward my feet and in its frenzied attempt to find a way out it scrambles over my dancing feet as I try to get out of the bathing room. Aaaah! Aaaaah! Three screams in rapid succession before I’m able to finally get the door open and stumble out. The problem is that the room is so tiny you have to maneuver most of the way towards the back of the room and that was also where the rat was trying to go.

In the aftermath, as I’m staring into the room which is dimly lit by my flashlight and reminding myself not to put off setting out the rat poison for another day, there is a call at my door “hodi” (which basically a way to announce your presence to someone when coming to their house). It’s my neighbors; all three of them. Solomon, Monica and their daughter Ester, at my door in a minute to see what is going on and make sure I am ok. I’m so shaken up by the rat running on my feet that I don’t even feel embarrassed about being half naked with only my towel wrapped around me. On the other hand, I do feel embarrassed that I screamed so loud. I tell them all what happened. Monica comes in to check that the rat has gone and Solomon removes the box which has been on the wall above my bathing room since I moved in (in case that might be where the rats are hiding). We all have a good laugh about it and I learn my vocabulary word for the day: Oyieyo (rat).

It’s hard to explain the feeling of being cared for by people I’ve known for 6 months (and they have treated me this way the entire time I’ve been here). The compassion of neighbors and the way they look out for one another is one of my favorite thing about this culture. Not that you won’t find neighbors caring about each other in America, but just that it’s implicit here.

The other day I came home in the evening when it was already getting dark. As I was putting away my solar charger and the panel I noticed that the cord now had tape around it at two points. Strange considering the tape was definitely not there that morning. Then, at the window where I thread the panel through in the morning, the cord was thread through a different window pane. Finally, after I got into my house, I found the charger in a different place on the table. I stood in my house a few minutes trying to piece together what might have happened – maybe Monica and Solomon needed my cord for their charger and traded me? Or maybe something happened to mine? I was at a loss. But not to worry, a few minutes there was a call at my door “hodi”. Solomon was at my door, ready with the story behind my solar panel. Turns out, the sheep were playing on the patio area in front of my house where I lay the panel out to charge. At some point in the morning Solomon and Monica noticed that the cord was cut (the sheep had bitten through it in two places) and immediately came to see what they could do. They have an extra key to my house, but instead of come into my space they figured out a way to get my charger through the window and Solomon sat on a stool while he pieced the wire back together and patched it up with tape. He then made sure the charger was working before putting it all back through my window and laying the panel out again. Monica came over a little later to also explain, just in case I wanted to hear it from her too.

I feel amazingly grateful to have this kind of support. A family away from home it seems, who will always be there if I need them or just want to talk.

I’m sitting in SeaTac waiting for my plane to board. The guy next to me is eating something that looks like it’s from Panda Express and smells delicious, so I’m fighting against the temptation to go get my own. But I know how much they feed you on these flights so I can’t give in to the urge no matter how tasty it smells or I’ll regret it later. My feet are already freezing and I’m wondering about the amount of clothes I have. Hopefully I’ll be warm enough on the plane. In retrospect, maybe Jamba Juice on a cool Seattle morning was not the ideal send off for someone whose lips and nails turn blue in a casual breeze. However, considering Dave Mathews attended my sendoff maybe Jamba Juice was a good call. Leaving Seattle this time doesn’t seem as hard as it was the first two times. Maybe it’s because of the rain that came just in time to say goodbye or because I’m more used to leaving or because I got a whole month at home with my amazing friends and family and while a month is not enough, I got enough love to last me. Probably all three things make this time easier. I can’t believe how nice the weather has been and I’m glad it decided to cloud up because flying high above western Washington on a sunny day (unless you’re about to land) is a bit heartbreaking. I still don’t have a seat on my flight and I’m praying I don’t end up sandwiched in between people. I tried to get an assignment from the gate desk, but they told me to come back later. Hopefully I’ll get paged soon. It’s hard to imagine that in 24 hours (give or take) I’ll be back in Kenya and laying down to sleep in Nairobi. This month seemed to stretch on to infinity when I first got back, but it all seems like an amazing, happy blur now. I will never stop being amazed at how much support I get from my friends and my family and how much love I feel when I get to see them. I know I said it last time I came home, but I’m going to say it again because it feels even truer now, I have the most amazing friends in the world. Things may not always work out in life like we want, but having friends and family around who love and support you makes everything seem easier. I am an extremely lucky girl to be able to travel and do something as amazing and exciting as Peace Corps and still feel like nothing has changed at home while I’m gone. Every time I come home I have a greater appreciation for how lucky I am. Well, until Kenya…. I love you all and can’t wait to see you again in 11 short months!!

I’m sitting in SeaTac waiting for my plane to board. The guy next to me is eating something that looks like it’s from Panda Express and smells delicious, so I’m fighting against the temptation to go get my own. But I know how much they feed you on these flights so I can’t give in to the urge no matter how tasty it smells or I’ll regret it later. My feet are already freezing and I’m wondering about the amount of clothes I have. Hopefully I’ll be warm enough on the plane. In retrospect, maybe Jamba Juice on a cool Seattle morning was not the ideal send off for someone whose lips and nails turn blue in a casual breeze. However, considering Dave Mathews attended my sendoff maybe Jamba Juice was a good call. Leaving Seattle this time doesn’t seem as hard as it was the first two times. Maybe it’s because of the rain that came just in time to say goodbye or because I’m more used to leaving or because I got a whole month at home with my amazing friends and family and while a month is not enough, I got enough love to last me. Probably all three things make this time easier. I can’t believe how nice the weather has been and I’m glad it decided to cloud up because flying high above western Washington on a sunny day (unless you’re about to land) is a bit heartbreaking. I still don’t have a seat on my flight and I’m praying I don’t end up sandwiched in between people. I tried to get an assignment from the gate desk, but they told me to come back later. Hopefully I’ll get paged soon. It’s hard to imagine that in 24 hours (give or take) I’ll be back in Kenya and laying down to sleep in Nairobi. This month seemed to stretch on to infinity when I first got back, but it all seems like an amazing, happy blur now. I will never stop being amazed at how much support I get from my friends and my family and how much love I feel when I get to see them. I know I said it last time I came home, but I’m going to say it again because it feels even truer now, I have the most amazing friends in the world. Things may not always work out in life like we want, but having friends and family around who love and support you makes everything seem easier. I am an extremely lucky girl to be able to travel and do something as amazing and exciting as Peace Corps and still feel like nothing has changed at home while I’m gone. Every time I come home I have a greater appreciation for how lucky I am. Well, until Kenya…. I love you all and can’t wait to see you again in 11 short months!!

Most of the time, I don’t feel like I’m living anywhere special or different from home. Life is life. Work is work. Friends are friends. No, none of it is quite like home and sure some small things, and some large things that I’ve gotten used to, are different, but it doesn’t feel as strange as I thought it would. I ride in vehicles meant for 14 people, sharing half a seat with one of 24 people (and most probably goats, fish… etc) that are crammed in with me any time I want to travel. I have no electricity, my water comes from the sky and I bath in a bucket. It all seems normal now. But every once in awhile, something happens and I remember that yes, Africa is different from home; exotic and exciting.

Things that exist in Kenya:

a) Witches: A woman died the other day in the marketplace after purchasing an avocado. There had been two women trying to sell avocados to her and when she chose one, the other looked at her and she died. They say she somehow poisoned the avocado and caused the woman to die. The bewitching woman was chased from the area and has been denied cover by her family in other parts of Kenya after the news of what happened followed her. And it’s not just some members of the community that believe it was witchcraft… my neighbor and another mzee (older man) I was talking with this afternoon (both well educated and traveled) agree that it was witchcraft though they aren’t sure the method of bewitchment. It’s completely cultural. It is really interesting to take a moment and see the world through their eyes. I could never believe in that because I’ve grown up seeing science in everything mysterious, but that’s not how people have grown up here and everyone believes.

In some places, sons will even revenge kill their own fathers because their kids died from an illness. They think that the father has bewitched the kids and caused their death so they burn or slaughter them. They say sometimes the mother even helps. I cant imagine how you could suspect such horrible things from your own parent. What possible benefit could come to him from hurting his own grandchildren. And where did this thought come from? They said that this happens not infrequently. Its just so inconceivable to me that this could actually take place.

b) Night runners: People that run at nighttime into the compounds of people in the community. They sometimes just run, but also some are peeping Toms.

c) People who command hippos and crocodiles: There are families in the area that have crocodiles or hippos that they consider family. They have built tight relationships with them and can ask them to do things for them. When the animal dies they even have funerals for them. The same elaborate 4-day long funerals that they have for people. Sometime they even tie a string with beads on it around their stomachs. There is a story about a girl who came for lunch to house one day and had to share food with a crocodile - the very important invited guest.

Turns out I actually did not use the choo correctly... I pooed in the opening that is there for nothing. Why do they have two holes that look the same when you are only supposed to poop in one?! At least you cant pee in the wrong one...

Also, because you all are not PCVs who find it appropriate to discuss bowel movements with anyone at any time, an update on being a supervisor. I think I'm really coming into my role and starting to enjoy it more. I spend my extra time at work (ha, like I ever have any) reading about how to coach people to bring out their potential. It's very interesting and a lot more complicated than I thought. I does feel good though to help people perform better or be more organized. The health program will start probably within the next few weeks and I am getting really excited about that. It is time now to start planning the trainings and that is one of my favorite things to do :)

The other thing going on at the moment is the mass exodus of everyone I know. Ok, not everyone... but everyone else who trained in my group. All my closest friends from PC are leaving at the end of July and that is creating a bit of panic for me!! I'm trying to remember all the reasons I love Kenya and my job and my coworkers and all the reasons staying is the right choice for me, but to be honest its hard to be the only one staying. Well, I guess now is as good a time as any to make a shameless plea: write me letters? I promise I will write back.

Sorry this post isn't longer, but I promise to get another one on here soon.

Love and miss you all!! And cant wait to see you in September when I come home for a month of home leave :)

Here are some pictures of my new home (thanks, Dad for the camera!). I hope you all enjoy the visual tour of Lusi.

Maize fields near my house.

Kids hanging out near the dirt road by my house.

A View of Lake Victoria from the main road at Owimbi (about 15 minutes walk from my house).

OVCs (orphans and vulnerable children) playing at the Saturday Psycho-Social Support day.

Sign board at my work, outside the office.

My office at Rafiki wa Maendeleo.

The Finance and Admin office at work... you can see the new, fancy choo on the left in the back (see the end of this post for the related story).

My house. It's the perfect size for me :)

My bedroom.

Over the past few weeks, I’ve been stepping into my new role at Rafiki wa Maendeleo. I am now supervising 4 departments: Agro-Forestry, Economic Empowerment, Advocacy and Health. There are only 1 to 2 people in each department, but I have been feeling pretty overwhelmed by the transition. Since I am now responsible for signing all their travel plans, money requests, weekly activity plans, activity reports, timecards… etc. I barely have time for my own work it seems. The first week was the hardest since I had to start implementing weekly departmental meetings and getting used to the constant requests for a word here or a signature there. I actually got in a bit of trouble from Finance the first week because I kept changing my signature on the documents… it’s REALLY hard to keep it the same! But as I go along things are getting easier. I am learning from the other managers at the organization and I think I’ll figure out something that works for me. Somehow I need to find a balance between a nice boss and all the yelling and reprimanding that is necessary. The worst part of the past weeks was trying to convince the youth organization submitting reports to us that it wasn’t actually my fault that their forms were incomplete. Yes, I am much stricter than the person who was looking them over in the past, but that doesn’t mean that these things weren’t required all along.

The hardest thing for me about being a supervisor now is that I am 1) younger than most of the people in my departments, 2) I am American, not Kenyan, 3) I am new to the organization and 4) I am a volunteer. It’s not that I don’t think I’m capable of performing well in the position, but it is hard to convince the people around me that I am a good fit for the position. In the end, this will be a fantastic attribute on my resume, so I’m pushing through the rough patch. I know I can do it, and there is always a bit of a rough patch when transitioning into any new job so I feel it’s just par for the course. I am going to be able to learn so much through working with the community and learning how to manage people. The director is planning some leadership and management training for the 3 supervisors coming up soon and I’m excited to get a few more useful tools under my belt for working with people. This will definitely be an exciting year!

The other thing I have to get used to in my new place is the insects and animals. Cows are everywhere (ALL of them have long horns – males and females alike) and they always seem to be staring in a menacing way. Leave alone the fact that a 5 year old can heard a group of 20 down the road without incident… I’m still afraid of them. Snakes. There are so many snakes. I have only actually seen one, but it was a 6ft long black mamba (very poisonous) and it was crawling through the yard when Solomon killed it. Then, the other morning at work my colleague was spit on in the eye by a spitting cobra (also poisonous and can cause blindness). He is ok now, but in the past he was also bitten and these things happened in the shamba (farm area) of our work compound. Yikes. There are huge spiders in my house, ants everywhere (including safari ants – my dreaded nemeses), so many flies, and flying praying mantises. My house is positively overrun by chameleons. They poo on EVERYTHING, but I’m counting my blessings because as far as I know, they aren’t associated with anything dangerous (like rats and the plague). I did have a huge rat living in my house, but I haven’t seen him around for about a month – awesome. Finally, I had a run-in with a swarm of wasps (flesh-eating cannibal wasps – you’re welcome, Dad). At my office there are two different choos (toilets) that you can use. There are some fancy new ones, and some older plastic ones. I’ve been using the older ones because the new ones are built with three different holes inside and I couldn’t figure out where I was supposed to do which business and got overwhelmed. However, since they are more environmentally friendly (they create usable fertilizer out of both things) I figured I should use them. Well… I did. And what happened? I walked in, used it properly without too much confusion and walked out proud… right into a nest of wasps which swarmed around me and gave me about 5 bites between my left arm and leg. Frick! Luckily, we grow aloe plants at work and that took the sting away within a few minutes. Good thing I didn’t embarrass myself by running out of the choo screaming with my arms flailing about. Oh wait, yeah, I did.

Nothing worth a damn in this life comes easy. Development work is no exception. I really care for my community, Kenya as a whole, and generally my fellow man. That is why I force myself to be tough on them. I struggle on a daily basis not to give anyone anything. I don't give sweets to the kids on the street, I don't give sodas to my coworkers, I don't write proposals to bring money to the office, and I certainly don't give “chai” to any cops or taxi drivers. This may seem like a very backwards view of what a peace corps volunteer should be doing, but I really want Kenya to succeed in the future, and that means being tough on it now.

People who don't know me in my community see me the same way they see any white guy in Kenya: a “White in shining armor” here to save the day (also as money bags with legs). As much as I'd love to be a hero, it's somehow selfish to sensationalize a quick fix so I can feel like “I did something and it fixed Kenya.” First, there is no one single problem that would fix the world if it was solved. And secondly, I am not here to make my self feel good about helping others. If you don't hurt as much as you smile, you're not doing development work properly.

Development work is hard. I mean, real development work, the sustainable kind that Peace Corps strives for. That is why our contract is for 2 years. Behavior change takes a long time, and it starts with respect and familiarity (coming from both sides), both of which also take a long time. I continuously read stories like "3 cups of tea" or any number of articles in the papers about volunteers that brought in so much money for important things like schools, or chicken farms, or tree planting initiatives. And certainly these people are doing good work. What kills me is the lack of laud and pomp for the volunteers that are developing those around them with education, empowerment, and encouragement. Nothing seems to get published unless it's about the monetary generosity of organizations or individuals back home who are able to send money to the volunteer, who is presumably directly at the source, and can truly utilize the money in the best way for the greatest good. I'm not saying this is a bad thing. But it's hard to see how this country will be on its own in the next 30 years if it becomes dependent.

So many times during my stay here, I can't help but think of the similarities between Kenya in the present, and America at the turn of the century. I re-read "The Grapes of Wrath" while here, and so much of the story was being played out around me. People are living in poverty, eating fried dough, not understanding how a flush toilet works, giving up their homes to head west to the land of opportunity where they hope to get a job (and where life would be perfect and fruitful). Honestly, the similarities go on. And I also can't help but think about how many families in America 100 years ago struggled and had no help, yet managed to pull themselves up by their own boot straps. You can see the values and strengths this fostered in Americans. Certainly, it's not that we didn't have help, but I believe there is such thing as an irresponsible amount of help. Like parents, we want to help our children with their homework, but not do it for them. We want to assist them but also let them learn from mistakes, which means maybe letting them make some mistakes even when we see them coming.

This part about development work is not fun. It's easy to slip into cynicism, about Kenya or about Development work in general. But fortunately for me, I have seen the good sides of both Kenya and Development work. I have seen Kenyans approach a problem and stumble, adapt, and try again. I have seen volunteers refuse to write proposals for their communities (because they love their communities, remember), and it is a wonderful thing. There are many parts about the Kenyan system that are designed to work for the people. The local government has a fund called the "Constituency Development Fund (CDF)." This is supposed to be a fund accessible to each locality, it's size based on the population, and voted on by members that the community has chosen. It can go to help anything from repairing a school classroom, to digging an "earth dam" to collect rain runoff. Granted, often this money is siphoned off by corrupt officials, but some of it goes to a good cause.

A few months ago, one of the groups I had been educating about water sanitation and HIV/AIDS had come to me with an idea. They thanked me for the education sessions (even though they already knew most of the info I presented), and said that what they really wanted was a center for AIDS orphans to stay, be cared for, and maybe go to school. What a great idea, I said, and I told them to start thinking about all the details; how many children; if they are sleeping there, who will guard the compound; if they are going to school there, who will pay for the teachers? I told them to make a very detailed plan. They asked me where I could find the money for this, and I told them "you tell me."

A week ago, they told me that they had applied for part of the CDF, and had already arranged for a plot of land to be given by the government for the construction. I'm not holding my breath, but I can't tell you how proud I was of this group for sticking to what they wanted, and finding a way to make it happen on their own. They have the brains to do it, they have the means, and because they did it on their own they will have ownership of the whole thing. I hope they are as proud of it as I am.

Now, I admit I am not completely selfless. I do, from time to time, wish that I could be the subject of stories like "3 cups of tea" and be a hero and point to a physical object and say "that is saving people's lives and it's because of me," but that's selfish. I do want to bring my community water, and agreed to write proposals to install another tank and gutters on two more schools before I leave, so I admit to acting a little hypocritically. But to make it sustainable, I'm essentially blackmailing the community to help itself first. I told the groups that I wouldn't write the proposal until they raised enough money to buy mosquito nets and chlorine to treat water (which they will be able to sell for a small profit, and bring money into the group for future projects). So I'm essentially bribing them to put effort into it. If it sounds like I'm calloused and cold, but it's because I care.

So here's a shout out to all the volunteers who have not dumped any more fruitless money into their communities, and refuse to take the easy way out. You are my heroes.

Friends don't let friends develop others irresponsibly.

Nik Schuetz kenyabelieveit.wordpress.com

There was an awesome thunder and lightning storm today after work. I’m sure I would have appreciated it more except that I got caught in the middle of it walking home. After work I looked at the clouds that had been rolling in, took an official office poll, and decided it wasn’t likely to rain in the time it would take to walk to Owimbi and back.

When I was just arriving to Owimbi, there was a big cloud, flat on the bottom with a rounded top like a flying saucer, cruising in. I had seen it before but determined that it wasn’t a threat. Either it picked up speed or I had misjudged it initially… it was moving as fast as any cloud I have ever seen. Under the big cloud were many others (fluffier, almost like they were created from the hot earth being cooled from the storm and the steam the rose got trapped) appearing right off the ground which were moving incredibly fast. I immediately got caught in a dust storm at the first icy blasts of the storm system hit me. Torn between going home and finishing my errand, I figured I should just check out the duke while I was there since I had come just to see it and probably a few minutes wouldn’t make a difference anyway, right?

Well, I was probably right about the few minutes, but the duka was a bit disappointing. I had the basics like milk, salt, sugar, flour, margarine and Royco (a seasoning all Kenyans love which I’m sure is made of 100% MSG)… that was about it. No mosquito coils, which was what I had come looking for specifically. They are coils that you can burn like incense which keep the mosquitoes away. Shortly after leaving the duka, it began to rain. Sprinkles at first, but it quickly turned to pouring rain. The rain was coming sideways while the wind pushed the lightning closer. It never let up, but occasionally it would get worse with a gust of wind making the drops of rain feel like hailstones against my skin. I had on a skirt which was becoming fast stuck to my legs and my hair which had been flying around in all the wind was getting plastered to my face. I’m sure I looked like the craziest of all crazy people, walking along at the fast rate my dirt-collecting sandals and the slippery, muddy road would let me. I only saw a few other people around, heading for cover as fast as possible, but by the end I was alone.

Mostly, I was worried about my computer and a little bit about my phone which were being carried in my wetter-ever-second bag. I did my best to shield it, but the sideways rain made that basically impossible. My body is only so big. Towards the end, when I had made it to the home stretch, I became worried about the lightning. By this time, it was basically right on top of me. Me, the soaking wet, 6ft tall, bean pole standing in the middle of a flat road… FML.

At that point, I tried running but thought I would be too likely to fall. I eventually made it back safely though soaked to the bone. Monica saw me arrive from her kitchen area and gave me a look that is, what can only be described as, the Kenyan equivalent of “WTF?!” I shrugged with a half smile and trudged the last few feet to my house. I stripped off the wet clothes inside the door and went about closing all my windows (left open earlier to air the room out, back when there were no clouds in the sky), though I admit the absolute first thing I did was get my computer out of my sopping wet bag and its case. I’m happy to report its working fine. I’m lucky that Solomon closed my windows as best he could from outside though because barely anything got wet, and nothing important.

After that craziness, and when I was dressed again in warm, dry clothes, I set about putting away some of my things and getting a bit more comfortable in my new home. By then, it was time for dinner. It was delicious and of course the conversation with Monica and Solomon was so welcome.

Here I am at my new home. I live and work in a very rural town called Lusi. To find it on a map, go to the north side of Lake Victoria and follow it to the left until you find a small peninsula dipping down into the lake (below a town called Bondo). There is a town called Owimbi which is off of the highway leading towards the lake and another town called Mbita (though I don’t think Owimbi would be on a map). It is a 15 minute walk from Owimbi to my home and work. I think I am really going to like living here. It is green and peaceful and there are fireflies at night. Fireflies!! I have a small house to myself which I am working on making into a home. It has a bedroom, a guest room, a small room in between the two which will be my kitchen and workspace, and an area to bathe. The house (which was previously the first office of Rafiki Wa Maendeleo Trust) sits on a compound with the house of a couple who hosted me very generously on my first night here, Monica and Solomon, and Solomon’s mother’s house. Solomon’s brother (whose name is Jack) lives in a house right behind mine which is separated by a line of bright green trees and is technically on a different compound. There is grass here! Chickens, cows, and the nicest dog called Cablo also live on the compound. Monica and Solomon immediately made me feel like family and since I still have no way to cook (until I find my way to Kisumu to do some supplies shopping this weekend) I eat dinner with them and take chai in the morning. There is a woman who comes to the offices around 10 if you want to buy some chai or chapati from her and she comes again at lunch with beans and chapati so I take my lunch at the office for 20 Shillings. It has been really wonderful talking with Monica and Solomon and hearing about their families and the history of the organization. They are two of the founder members and have put a lot of work into making Rafiki the successful organization it is today. I am looking forward to getting to know them better and am excited to meet Solomon’s mother. She has been living with Solomon’s brother at his other house in Bondo, but should be back soon. They say she will teach me Dhluo (the language of the Luo people which is spoken exclusively by many people here) and that I am supposed to greet her “Dani” which means grandmother.

I can’t believe how comfortable I already feel here. But there are some things that will take a little time to get used to. For one, there is no market in this town. Actually, there are not even any dukas at all. I have heard there are some things (at least bread) that you can get at the dukas near the highway and I’m headed there soon to check out the options. The market town is about a half hour walk, from what I hear, away from Lusi, but they said I can get most of what I need there. For any exciting fruit though, I have to head to the nearest large town called Bondo or to Kisumu. I will really have to start strategically planning my fruit purchases so that I make it through the week. No more leaving work at lunch time and finding a mango or a fruit salad. Sad day. The other major difference in this area is that there is no electricity. For now I have a paraffin lantern that I use in the evening, but I have heard that my supervisor, Michele, will be adding solar to my house. This could mean a couple hours of electricity in the evening, but not enough to charge a computer. Luckily, there is better solar power at work and I can charge my computer in the office while I’m working. So far, I haven’t minded using the lantern. There is something really nice and relaxing about making a journal entry by the light of the lantern.

When I did talk to Ibrahim, the director at G-Youth, about my having to leave Garissa he was so wonderful and understanding. He told me how much he had appreciated the work I had done and that they will really be missing my help in the future. He also happened to mention a woman he had talked to a bit over email about 6 months earlier who was working out in the west part of Kenya in Nyanza Province near Kisumu. She had been interested in the youth organization that G-Youth was working on and he thought maybe she might know of someone who could use a volunteer. I told him that I was really appreciative of any help he could give me or any directions to another possible position that I might be interested in. He sent an email introducing Michele and I while I was sitting in his office.

When I returned to my office, I decided to respond to Michele right away and introduce myself. No time to lose, right? Before I could complete two sentences I got a call… from Michele. We talked a little bit and it became immediately clear that we were the answer to each other’s problems. She said she had been looking for a public health volunteer for a few months and was so frustrated she was on the verge of giving up. Specifically, she was looking for someone with a Masters in Public Health to help out on a program that they will begin implementation on in the next couple months. I could tell Michele herself was very motivated and passionate about the work and that it would be a real working position. Before we hung up the phone I felt pretty sure that this was where I would end up. The program she described was a comprehensive community health capacity-building project working with the entire community health system including the household level, community health workers, community health extension workers, community health committees, orphans and vulnerable children and in- and out-of-school youth. Basically, it is everything I have ever hoped to learn about and be involved with in public health.

I had said that I would not be extending unless I found something really great, which I doubted I would since it seemed my new site assignment would be based on luck of the draw. But when I talked to Michele about this project and heard how excited they were and how perfect it fit into everything I want, I made up my mind. I feel so unbelievably lucky to have had this opportunity fall into my lap. It’s like I’ve been given a job that I would never qualify for in real life, but because I am a volunteer I can have it. This is going to be a great opportunity personally and for my career. When things like this happen, I almost believe things do happen for a reason…

First off, my house was robbed AGAIN a few weeks ago. They took my camera, my i-pod, my external CD/DVD drive, a power strip, and an old phone. So PC had me come to Nairobi until my organization could figure out some new housing for me. While I was there I talked to the country director about extending with the youth organization that I work with. It seemed like he thought it would be a great idea and it seemed pretty much a guarantee. I was feeling really excited about having made that decision and looking forward to spending next year working with G-Youth. It seemed like the perfect option for me to gain more skills and enjoy a final year.

I got back to Garissa last Monday and moved in with my friend Caroline from G-Youth just temporarily until my organization can find a house. Things were started to feel a bit back to normal towards the end of the week when I get a call from the PC safety and security officer. The conversation started out as a warning that Dan and I should be more vigilant about our safety after an escalation of fighting between the Kenyan government and Al-shabaab (who like to target westerners since they are perceived as backing the interim government in Somaliland). But then she went on to say that she spoke with the UN security guy in Garissa who said that because Dan looks like a local (actually he looks like an Arab even though he is Mexican - but he really does look like he might be a local) that he probably isn’t at much risk, but that I would be. She basically said that she doesn’t think it would be safe for me and that they won’t approve my extension in this place, but since Dan was already approved they can’t do much about that. Then they offered to move me to a new site immediately and offer to let me extend with that organization. I was so blown away by what they were saying that I could barely think. Nuru (the safety and security officer) wanted me to answer right away about what I though. When I asked for a week to think (a very little time considering it took me like 5 months to figure out if I wanted to extend at all or not) but she said sooner would be better so we agreed early next (this) week.

After thinking for some time I realized that from what she was saying it wasn’t even for sure that I could stay in Garissa to finish out my contract. I asked her about it later and she said she would have to talk to the country director and get back to me, but basically that if things get any worse and I have decided to stay in Garissa they would have to pull me out and give me an Interrupted Service (which means I would just be done). This is all a lot for me to deal with on such short notice. The worst part is I can’t tell my organization so I feel so awkward. I feel detached from everything and I keep making plans, but in the back of my mind I'm wondering why, since I might be gone any day.

I haven’t talked to the country director, but I'm really hoping I can today. As it looks now I think I'm going to try and finish out my time in Garissa as long as PC doesn’t think I am seriously at risk. But if they think the likelihood that things will get worse is high than I will try a new site I guess. I would feel horrible not finishing the things I have started here and just leaving so soon. I guess that's what is going to happen eventually, but this way I won’t have any time to prepare. I just wish I could know if something were going to happen. It sucks that I don’t feel like I'm in any danger here, but maybe it’s out there and I just wouldn’t know. That's the problem with terrorists. We know Al-Shabaab is in Garissa, but am I really at risk? I wouldn’t know until something happened. There is a British guy working at G-Youth now and we were discussing this stuff on Friday. He told me that a friend of his pointed out some guys in town and said they were Al-Shabaab and that one of them had told the friend that if you kidnap a Brit you can make a lot of money. I was shocked because you always hear about this stuff through the grape-vine but it never seems like it could touch your life. But now I really don’t know... hearing that made me really wonder if maybe leaving is the right thing (for my own safety even if I don’t feel like I'm at risk).

I really don’t want to go somewhere new for the last 5 months since it took about that long to figure anything out here, but I guess it could be alright if I had something specific to work on or if it turned out I could learn a lot. I just hate this whole thing and wish it weren’t happening.

It began with the same conversation we’ve had so many times before. We were talking about the certificates we promised the students for completing the school health program last year. It is always a matter of cost and we’ve gone back and forth about them for the past 3 months. There were even points where it sounded like it would happen. But this morning when I said even plain computer paper certificates were fine it became an issue with quality. She suggested doing nice ones for a few top students per school. This was the point I gave up. I’ve been fighting for this for so long and we’ve gone back and forth so many times I was just too tired and stressed to fight for them any longer. I told her we could just drop it and not do any. That doesn’t mean I wasn’t mad about it though.

The real trouble started when I tried to explain why I was so frustrated by this situation (and others like it). I told her that it was for this reason, our current argument, that I sat down with my two supervisors in the beginning to plan out the program and asked them to think through what would be feasible. The certificates were even their suggestion. I tried to explain that when plans get made like that in America, in the culture I grew up in and am used to working in, the plans are set in stone more or less or else someone has to make up for it in the end, and that is why I always seem so frustrated about these things. She came back with “but you remember that first Peace Corps meeting? Cause I do, and they said you have to adopt the culture and it is our culture that sometimes things have to change.” I told her that I understand that, but it doesn’t make me feel better when I’ve promised the students certificates and now if they don’t get them it looks like me who has let them down. She acted shocked that I would have told them about the certificates at all.

Between arguments of culture and her complaining that I’m always demanding more help and support, while I tried to remind her of the concept behind Peace Corps – that we are here to help build capacity in communities and our organization not do the work alone – everything took a bad turn. She was saying “how can you say we don’t support you or the program when it was me who got The Ekman Foundation to support the schools…” That really frustrated me because yes, I really appreciate the ability to use a taxi instead of walking but she never seems to take a really active interest in anything I’m working on and I feel like she never is completely listening to me. From there it somehow became, “It’s like you don’t even want a recommendation or to recommend SIMAHO for another volunteer. Even us, we’re scared of getting another Peace Corp if they’re going to be like this. You’ve just been bringing problems the whole time you’ve been here. Why do you want to bring problems right before you leave?”

At this point I was shocked into silence and trying unsuccessfully to prevent the tears from welling up in my eyes. She looked at me and asked me why I was crying. Not in a sweet tone or a tone of friendliness, it was a tone of confusion and annoyance. I told her that it was because the things she was saying to me were hurtful. She then started talking about how I always take everything so hard and serious and saying that I should take them simple like they do. The even I have said some things to them that caused them to feel hurt or that they have disagreed with, but they just shrug it off. I told her that I want to know when I’m doing those things because it isn’t my intention and I don’t mean to be pushing them too hard. I wish that they would tell me things or else I can’t know how they are feeling. Somehow the conversation got back to the work I do and she was saying that even she recommends me to people and is always saying how much work I do for the organization, but at this point it just seemed like an attempt to placate me. Guilt maybe.

From there the conversation pretty much ended and she just got immediately back to work. I left the office and struggled to figure out what that conversation meant. Aside from being highly insulting, the conversation was unbelievably frustrating because culture was blamed every time I brought up a point. It’s impossible to argue with someone who thinks culture is the answer to everything and that culture can’t be faulty. My chest felt so tight and choked with sobs it was hard to breathe and I felt sick to my stomach as I walked away. I couldn’t believe what had just happened.

After thinking it over for the rest of the day and talking to a couple Kenyan friends, I decided that we would need to talk again and try to sort the issues out. I couldn’t just go back to my work and continue like before if she really meant what she said. My job here is to help and if what I’ve been doing isn’t helping than I need to figure something else out. So the next day I asked if we could talk again. It ended up being a really productive and helpful conversation. We talked over the culture differences again and agreed on what we can do to make it easier for both of us. I realized just how busy she is all of the time because SIMAHO is a growing organization but it doesn’t have the management systems in place to keep a lid on the chaos. I need to give her more of a break when she doesn’t remember to do the things we talk about or when she seems distracted while we’re talking. And I need to be more patient in general, which isn’t always easy when you are bombarded constantly with a different culture and a million tiny stresses, but I’m not being fair to them by not trying harder. She apologized for hurting my feelings and promised that they have really, really appreciated my work up to this point. I think in retrospect, she was probably just upset with me and other things and used the opportunity to vent those feelings – not that it’s an excuse. Now I feel a lot better about the work we are doing to change SIMAHO into a more efficiently run organization and I know that she will give me feedback if things are too much for them to deal with or if I’m pushing too hard.

One of the reasons Peace Corps can be a challenge is that it’s not always clear where the cultural differences are until things get really bad and each side gets sufficiently upset. We don’t realize on a daily basis the effects of our culture even when we are living in a different one. But the moments when we do are enlightening and a really wonderful learning experience. Well, the learning experience part is wonderful, if not the moments themselves.

Out of all the work I have done here and everything that I do, my favorite times are those I am working with kids. As much as I may dislike spending an uneventful few hours at work in the afternoon waiting for a class, I always (well, almost always) leave the class happy and feeling rewarded. In the beginning this wasn’t always the case, as I think I’ve talked about in an earlier blog post. When the schools weren’t all committed and the students were unruly, the school program could sometimes be the worst part of my day. But now that I’ve learned lessons from the first two terms, and worked out a better system for the schools, I am really enjoying myself.

Planning the school program consists of selecting the topics we would like to teach for the year. The school term in Kenya is broken into 3 terms with a month of break in between each. We try and teach every week in each of the school and at the end of each term there is an exam on the topics which have been covered. In December I sat down with my coworkers and we came up with a list of topics we think are important to talk to the kids about and then tried to cluster them into three terms so that the subjects within each are somehow related. It’s not always possible, but in general it seems to work out. We do the simpler things in the beginning so that the students can get used to the teaching style and start feeling more comfortable with us (the teachers include myself, and my two colleagues Rose and Noor). We increase the complexity throughout the year and culminate in the more sensitive subjects at the end so that students have built up a trust with us and will be more willing to ask the difficult or maybe embarrassing questions about HIV and STIs, FGM and sexual health. By early January we had come up with a plan for the year (a rough plan at least) and started making preparations for meeting with the schools.

I wanted to meet with the schools during the second week they were opened in the new year so that we could get the program up and running early, thereby covering more topics. My supervisor advised me to wait until the 3rd week to give the schools more time to get into their schedules and work out the beginning of the year kinks. Many of the schools have gotten new Head Teachers since last term. It seems to be common practice in Kenya to fire Head Teachers when the school doesn’t perform on the National Exams even if they haven’t been at the school very long, which seems somehow unfair (and personally, impacts the school program negatively since we have to develop all new relationships and present the whole project again). Finally, we met with the Head Teachers and presented the schedule we had developed. Unfortunately, I was told – for the first time ever – that the schools have exams the last week of every month and would not be able to have classes on those weeks. So we went back and re-drafted the schedule taking out the classes that we felt were less important (a hard job because we think they are all important). We ended up with the following subjects for this term: hygiene, water and sanitation, malaria, problem solving, and transmission of illness. Thankfully, all of the teachers agreed to the redrafted schedule, but by that time it was the last week of January and we couldn’t begin our classes because of exams.

The first week of February I was unexpectedly in Nairobi (taking care of some stomach issues which have been bothering me since before November) and it was up to the other staff to implement. I was feeling a bit nervous about things because I have to remind everyone about the classes and what we need to be doing even when I am around the office. But Noor came through for the program and really did an excellent job. He visited all the schools and even remembered to count the number of boys and girls in each for our records. The only hitch to the whole week was that Winners Academy, one of my favorite schools, was unable to meet for the class because of exams. This was perplexing to me because in addition to sitting down with every Head Teacher and going over each day of the schedule to make sure there were no conflicts, Winners was the school who had initially told me that they had exams always on the last week of the month. Ugh. Things here are ever-changing. Another school, Sunshine Academy, informed us that the time they had set aside for us to teach was actually built into their schedule for Maths and they need to reschedule as well but they need to the Director to be present and OK the time slot. The Director is not usually around though, so even now we are waiting on a call from the Head Teacher telling us when a good time to come and meet with them both would be. In the past when these type of things would happen I would become so frustrated and stressed, but now I realize that I have done my part to make sure that things run smoothly. I cant control what happens at the schools with scheduling, exams, and whatever else comes up (as much as I’d like to), so I cant worry about it. Whatever happens will happen and in the mean time we will do our best to teach the students we can. Hopefully I can keep this perspective throughout my last 6 months.

Regardless of a few hitches, this year’s program is off to a great start. The students this term seem to be much more interested in the classes and we have had fewer problems with getting students to listen. I think starting in the beginning of the year instead of the 2nd Term, and coming every week to teach is creating a much better atmosphere for the students. At Winners Academy most of the students have already learned the first two lessons because it is such a small school that we have combined classes, and I was so impressed today with the level of participation and the sheer volume of information they remembered from last year. It is really encouraging to us as teachers to see that the students are really learning, and not grudgingly.

At Hyuga Girls, there were many problems with the students last year. They have a late lesson and many of the girls would walk out during our session or just talk to other students through the windows, but this year the students seem more engaged. Maybe it’s because they have seen us come for the program before and it’s not something new anymore, or maybe the class ahead of them prepared them for what we are coming to teach. Maybe it’s because I’ve figured out my teaching style more these days and I can now balance discipline and fun better. I was really surprised last week when Rose and I went for a lesson at the behavior of the new girls, it was a wonderful lesson. Not only that, but the girls from the previous Standard 6 class that we taught last year (and who caused so many problems for me in class) were saying really nice things to us when they saw us through their classroom window. They thanked us for what we taught them and asked if we could come teach them in their new class. I wish we could. I really love when the students see me in town and greet me with a big smile. They call me Madam Rachel.

At the end of each term, at the bottom of the exam, there is a section for feedback on the class. Since the kids in Kenya aren’t ever asked their opinion on what they learn or how they learn, this section has caused some frustration and confusion for them, but sometimes they understand and the information is really helpful. Most of all, the section where they can write comments has been a great motivator for the teachers because the students really say encouraging things. The following are some of the comments we have received:you have been so good to us and you have make us know things which had not know and we would like you to come againFirst I like to think you for teaching us very important thing. The lessons were not hard. I am happy because I have an opportunity to teach my peer group about effect of doing sex. Inshallah I will not circumcised my children including my daughter. When i grow up because there is a lot of dangerous thing will happen to my daughter. If my religion Islam does not like uncircumcised girls it is not my choice it is her life, body and choice. It is nice that government of Kenya had cancelled circumcision. I have a chance to teach female/male parent to use the method of A: abstinance, B: be faithful, C: use condom. Thank you SIMAHO my God reduce HIV/AIDS victims.I thank you for all you are doing and please continue the same wayI want to be taught more and more so that I can be educated more than the way I was before our school started this programThe SIMAHO school Health Program was interesting and during the lessons Madam Rachel and Madam Rose explain to pupils who do not understand some topics. During this lesson you can ask questions and express your feelings. This is a picture of my colleague Rose teaching a class at Hyuga Girls Primary about puberty and reproduction. All the classes we teach in look like the one below: rows of small wooden benches with seats attached in a cement room, with open windows, and a chalk board in the front. This classroom is very large compared to most of the rooms we teach in.

These are pictures from the day we gave the trophy for Best School in the SIMAHO School Health Program to Winners Academy. They had scored the highest average on the exam out of the 5 schools we teach in.

These are some girls sitting in class during a lesson at Winners Academy.

You’ve been challenged! Can you hack it and “Live Like a Peace Corps Volunteer” for a week? At Peace Corps we are celebrating our 50th anniversary! The Challenge: Kenyan Rules For one week you are asked to give up some of the everyday conveniences we do without. The levels are arranged from more common to less common living conditions of PCVs in Kenya while also taking into account the difficulty of completing the challenge in the US. So while none of us here have a car it ranks quite high in the challenge as it is much more difficult to do without one in the states. Kenya is known for it's beautiful safaris in which you can spot the “The Big Five” animals, for which we’ve named our levels. Lion-Difficulty Level I. (choose two) • You can’t use any microwave • No checks, no debit cards or credit cards, cash only all week. • No washing machine or dish washers - plus you must attempt laundry by hand once. (let’s be honest you probably have enough clothes to easily go a week without washing) Leopard-Difficulty Level II. (choose two plus one item from Level I.) • No television (this includes Hulu and Adult Swim online, they are not available outside the US)--You can listen to the radio and read local newspapers • Baths or showers allowed only every other day. (you can wash yourself at the sink with a rag each day) • No fast food, no restaurants (this includes coffee places, bars, and delivery) • Internet only every other day (you can use the internet for your job but your on the honor system here) Elephant-Difficulty Level III. (choose two plus one item from Level II or two items from Level I) • You can use your toilet but you must manually fill the tank or do a bucket flush. (turn off the water to the toilet) • Lack of temperature control. No heater or air conditioner in your car. • You can only use one burner on your stove and no oven. Buffalo-Difficulty Level IV. (choose two plus one item from Level III, or two items from Level II, or three items from Level I) • Reduced living space. You may only use your living room, bathroom and kitchen. • Bathe only once this week. (You may wash yourself with a rag at the sink each day) • No driving. You can use public transport, bicycle, and walking. • Internet one day this week. (Again, you can use it for your work only.) Rhino-Difficulty Level V. (choose one item from each Level) • No running water from your house, you must go fetch it from somewhere else. (a neighbors house is fine) • No English for the entire week. (You can speak English at work only.) • You can’t use any toilet in your house, you must go somewhere else or improvise • No refrigerator When you’ve successfully completed your Challenge cheek out our “Show Support” page at LiveLikeaPCV.org for gear to let others know of your triumph and help us spread the word

This document is to accompany another if you did not receive that other document which outlines the general nature of this Challenge please visit LiveLikeaPCV.org

I promise to write a real blog soon... there is so much I need to catch you all up on!But, for the time being, you can watch this video on YouTube and get a really good idea of what my life is like. Its called: So You Want to Join Peace CorpsAlso, 2011 is the 50th Anniversary of Peace Corps and as part of the celebration they have come up with something called the Peace Corps Challenge. This is another great way to get a feel for what my life is like by living closer to the way PCVs in Kenya do. It will be a list of some changes you can make in your life for a week to feel like a real-life Peace Corps Volunteer. I'll post some of the Kenya rules or at least a link to them when the final version is out.

I had a really wonderful and interesting Thanksgiving this year (actually it was a Slapsgiving celebration - which you can find out more about from the show How I Met Your Mother). It was a perfect day filled with good friends, delicious food (even pumpkin/butternut squash and pecan/walnut pies and amazing stuffing), and lots of fun!

I'll put some pics up here so you can see how we celebrated. Yes, the live turkey is the one we ate, and it was DELICIOUS (bit thanks to Nik for killing, gutting, and cooking our bird)! We bought it in the village (for some reason before running the rest of our errands) and were started at the whole morning. The mamas in the market thought it was hysterical and couldnt stop laughing, but it did give us a good opportunity to share American culture (PC Goal 2: check). We actually had to take it on a matatu to the site where we were celebrating. I'm sure that made a lot of people's days.

Our Turkey. I named him Slappy in honor of the day.

The aftermath. Just be thankful I didnt post the video.

The boys plucking the feathers. Even me, I picked a few :)

No day is complete without arts and crafts! We made hand turkeys cause it fit the Thanksgiving AND Slapsgiving themes. Plus, I needed something to do with my hands and there weren't any puzzles.

My first experience of mulled wine. Very tasty! We even decorated our glasses/jars.

The bird was boiled first and then moved outside for roasting since we didnt have an oven.

Hovering around the cook waiting for a snack... just like home. Although here the snack was roast liver and roast heart. So nice.

The one on the left is my Macadamia nut torte (not quite like Mom's but pretty tasty) and then our two Butternut Squash pies and seriously delicious walnut pie. I had one bit of it left in my bowl when it was time for the slap which I was saving for a last perfect bite and someone cleaned my dish while I was up. Tragic. I almost cried.

Check out this stuffing! I want to eat it again.

The group of volunteers we celebrated with. Really, it couldn't have been better. Just look at the spread... and all of that without an oven or stove.

Men of the hour and myself. Dan, the other guy at my site, is on the right. Jeff is on the left. Yours truly in the center. ;)

80s dance party to end the night? YES PLEASE!!

Some months are better than others… This fall was a bit rough. In addition to just feeling more homesick (probably the result of realizing I have another year left and because I love fall in Seattle), I had a streak of bad luck. Mostly this was transportation-related and that’s what I want to talk about here. Transportation in Kenya is a very interesting thing (not always the good type of interesting either). Out of 9 consecutive trips, 7 of them had problems. Since I find the problems, and their seemingly uncanny ability to find my vehicle, entertaining (and I hope you will too) I’ll provide a brief list: 1.       Trip to Embu from Garissa  – we took the trip to Embu for work and in addition to having what I assume is one of the most reckless (in terms of appropriate speed for his shock absorber-less vehicle) drivers in Kenya, we encountered a puncture on the way. This resulted in a 1 hour delay during which we waited on the side of the road in the sun while he attempted to fix it. Why did it take an hour? Because the jack he keeps in the vehicle is meant for a motor bike and we had to find rocks to put under it in order to lift the vehicle enough to get the other tire on. 2.       In Embu – the day after we arrived we were scheduled to leave to the rural area at 10am. The driver was late and saying he had to fix things in his vehicle before he came. Why this couldn’t have been done the night before, only he knows. Before he arrived (an hour late) the group escorting us had to leave to run some errands and got a flat while they were out. In total our day didn’t start until around 2 because of various repairs on each vehicle. He then proceeded to drive like a maniac resulting in a bruise on my tailbone that prevented me from sitting properly for at least a week. He would not slow down for our cries of pain and insisted that any other vehicle or driver would have the same effect. Simply not true. 3.       Back to Garissa from Embu – we were delayed for another hour, this time because somehow the brake and clutch wires in the engine got crossed and he couldn’t switch gears. No shade this time either, of course. This was when I really started contemplating a Kenyan version of AAA. 4.       To Matuu from Garissa – the bus was delayed for an hour and a half when the brake started leaking air and we had to wait for someone to come with a replacement part. Again, no shade unless you sat in the prickly grass (which some of the women did and invited me to do). But I sat on the bus and had a really wonderful conversation with the two men sitting across the aisle from me. One was a Somali who grew up in Ethiopia but now lives in California and the other was a Somali who grew up in Kenya, now lives in Ontario and has businesses in the DRC and Zambia. We talked a lot about the differences between America and Kenya and how there are benefits to both lives, about how the more you travel the better you know yourself and also the world, and the conflict between wanting to be home and wanting to see and experience something new. It was by far the best spent time of my many delays. Sadly, after this delay we came upon a horrific accident. Another bus had gotten a punctured tire while coming across a bridge, it the side barrier (thankfully not falling down to the dried river bed), and somehow flipped. By the time we got to the scene all the people/bodies (it didn’t look like people could have survived to me, but I heard that few people if any died – not sure what the truth is) had left/been removed. It was one of the most terrible things I have ever seen and hard to look at when I’m on a bus, no better in structure or command I’m sure. The top of the bus was right side up next to the upturned bottom and the seats were resting against the ground. Luggage was scattered all around and people were crowded around to get a look. Myself, I stayed back too afraid of seeing something I might never be able to get out of my head. I’ll come back to this one too, but the main lesson I took away from the sobering scene was that if I’m ever in an accident I’ll keep my head down. 5.       Matuu to Nairobi – this trip really wasn’t bad, but I’ll count it because the man promised me the matatu would go all the way up to the stage in Nairobi, but he lied. The driver of the first made me switch half way there. Then the driver of that car promised to take me all the way up to the stage and they too made me switch after some time. And then with the traffic in Nairobi they made us get off before the stage even and walk. Just annoying. 6.       Nairobi to Voi – I had really wonderful luck at the stage in Nairobi. A bus was about ready to leave when I got there so I bought my ticket, used a toilet (REALLY TERRIBLE smelling), bought water and we were off. I thought my luck had changed and I settled in for the trip. But, barely out of the city, the driver overestimated the distance to get around a truck and knocked off the side mirror. On the coast buses they would just keep going (I’ve been on them when the mirror was knocked off and it wasn’t an issue for them), but not in Nairobi. The laws of the rest of the country, at least in terms of vehicular and traffic laws, don’t seem to be a worry of buses between Garissa and Nairobi or Garissa and the coast (I’ll come back to this later as well). We had to pull over and people got out to get a closer look or to relieve themselves in public which is acceptable here. But not me. I just sat tight thinking we would be on our way soon enough. I fell asleep and woke up about a half hour later with no one else on the bus and we hadn’t moved at all. People had gotten out to sit on the side of the road. I followed suit and there I waited for 3 hours until the next bus could come and pick us to continue our trip. I felt less upset when I found ginger-marinated goat kebabs at the place we stopped for dinner. 7.       Voi to Msau – SUCCESS!! No problems on this one. 8.       Msau to Mombasa – well, once I was actually on my way the trip was not bad at all. I didn’t even have to transfer in Voi because the morning matatu is an express. So what was my problem? A matatu strike began in the region on the day I was planning to leave which meant I had no way out. I spent an extra 3 days in Msau and the Taita region before the strike ended and I was finally able to leave. Ridiculous. On the upside, I got to see some of my friends’ sites where I had never been and got reacquainted with the color green and some gorgeous views. Plus I got some good hiking in (straight up the side of a steep hill for about a couple hours). Unfortunately, the bad luck on this leg wasn’t limited to transportation. While I was there, my house was broken into and I had to wait until I got home to know what was missing since my roommates don’t know what I have. Whoever it was didn’t take much of value, except sentimentally, and of course what robbery would be complete without taking a person’s sheets and the back-up deodorant and toothpaste they brought from America. 9.       Mombasa to Garissa – as much as I hoped this would be a carefree trip (and as much as the stressed up me needed it) bad luck once again came knocking. Luckily we were only stuck in the mud for about an hour and there were only a few times when the bus tipped enough for me to think it was time for my head to be down. At one point we came upon a large puddle, a pond really, and had no choice but continue through or go back to the place we got stuck. The water came up to a grown man’s waist when he got out to test the depth and we all looked at it with trepidation. The bus just accelerated into it and a huge wave of water came over the front of the bus… really awesome to see and the whole bus cheered and clapped for the driver (a heartwarming story of success, really). Anyway, those are just some tales of my transportation troubles. Hopefully, I can have a break for awhile. I’ll post again soon about the state of roads and transportation in Kenya.

Wow, I cant believe this worked... yeah, it took an hour, but it worked!! Enjoy the video :)

I dont have the energy to write all about this trip, but I will do a little photo expo :)I went to Kakamega for a training and beforehand we camped in the Kakamega Rainforest. After the training I spent a weekend in Kisumu with friends which was amazing. We swam, ate delicious food, danced, and just relaxed. I almost never get to see my friends from that side of Kenya so the whole experience was wonderful (even though I was completely sick of traveling since it came at the tail-end of a month I spent out of site).This first group of pictures is from a sunrise hike in the forest. We woke up around 5:30 and walked to a raised platform just on the edge of a clearing in the forest. Watching the sun come up and hearing the forest awaken was a wonderful experience. It was really quiet in the early morning as we walked in the dark with our phone flashlights and a lantern, but as we stood on the platform the monkeys started calling and the birds were chirping. I made have a video that you can hear it all in, but I think uploading that might be asking a bit too much of my internet connection.

While in the forest we stayed in cabins that were raised up to the level of the branches so we had a good view to watch the monkeys. They would come up to the hut and watch us or hang out in the trees playing around. One even got into a woman from our groups room and she had to chase it out.

These next pictures are from a hike in the forest. Our guide was called Wycliffe and he knew so much about the birds, monkeys, trees, plants, ants... you name it. He has worked for the National Forest Service for 17 years and we really enjoyed having him as a guide. This was the day when I found out that in addition to mosquitoes, safari ants will also bite me preferentially over anyone else. We stopped for a couple minutes to look at a cool tree, but then I realized I had two huge safari ants on the outside of my pants. They had their huge pincers gripped into the fabric and had to be forcefully ripped off (better my pants than my skin). Then I felt a pinch on my calf and raised my pants to find a little one holding on tight. I pulled that off and had to brush a few more off my ankles. Wycliffe told us to start walking fast. Every couple minutes he would yell back "walk faster, faster please". By the end of that section of forest we were in a dead sprint. We reached a road and started walking at a normal pace again, but after a short while I felt another pinch on my thigh. Not too long after that I became aware of a little bugger inside my underwear! Ugh! No one else had more than one bite. On the way back through that same segment of trail we just ran, but it was to no avail for me. Two ants in my pants anyway.

The hike was really beautiful and I only wish that the pictures I posted here could convey half of the beauty. Also, I cannot express how wonderful it was to see green everywhere and real trees for once! I really miss the woods.

These are of a sunset we saw one night during training. I was lucky enough to be in the right place at the right time and got to see a double sunset :) It was one of the highlights of the whole trip.This is the only picture I managed to take while in Kisumu. It's from the roof of the hotel we stayed in, and was my only glimpse of Lake Victoria I got. Hanging out with everyone on the roof there was one of the better parts of the weekend.

Yesterday I finally got to spend a day with the women in Atheyle. This week I will be spending one whole day with each of the communities I do my women’s groups in. At 7:30 yesterday morning I met with a social worker on attachment with SIMAHO who wanted to join me in my village adventure. I was wearing my blue dhira (pillow-case dress) and was ready to be a village mama for a day. We walked up to the matatu stage and waited… and waited… and then a matatu came and we waited for people to fill it. Then it was full and we got kicked out/asked to leave and jump in another matatu. Then we waited for the tire on our new vehicle to be fixed and for it to fill before we finally hit the road around 9. Interesting side note: the tools for the tire repair, along with a pair of sandals and other presumably matatu-related paraphernalia, were stored under the cushion of the driver’s seat.

After some short-lived confusion about our purpose for coming to visit the women (“no, not for a meeting, we just want to see what the women do every day and help out”), we were assigned to a mama. She first showed us to her goat and cow pens. Ingenious constructions of mathenge branches (a sticker-ridden weed that grows EVERYWHERE in Garissa) put up around an area to keep in the animals. The cow pen had a fence of branches about 2 feet high and about a foot thick inside of which were they calves who are still too small to travel with the larger herd to go for water. The baby goats were inside a dome of mathenge which provided just enough room for them to fit crowded in together and was surprisingly sturdy; it stood up to the kids climbing up on the walls inside. It looked a bit like a beehive.

Next we started for the river to get the every other daily supply of water for cooking, cleaning, bathing… etc. We started out on foot, but were overtaken by the woman’s daughter who came with a donkey cart and asked us to hop on. Donkey carts are really amazing things. The cart itself is made of two long pieces of wood running parallel on either side of the donkey and boards attached across to sit on or to put water, produce… etc. There are two tires which are huge and look like they belonged to a tractor (a small one) at some point. The parallel sticks are tied to each other by a rope or sometimes chain links that are hitched over a wooden saddle sitting on a blanket or two. These are tied many times by any manner of thing which could be used: old rope, new rope, nylon bands, old clothes, chains… etc. The result is a surprisingly sturdy cart and a smoother-than-expected ride. The whole time I kept thinking about the poor donkey though, pulling a heavy cart through the sand and getting swatted with a stick every so often to encourage him to keep pace. Poor guy. Eventually I got off and walked. Partly because I wanted the exercise, partly to save the donkey from my added weight, and partly because I was tired of getting smacked in the face with low-hanging or overgrown bushes (why is every tree or bush that grows here covered in spikes?!). On the trip I just kept looking at the beautiful (who says sharp cant be beautiful) landscape around me and thinking about the people I was with. I’m lucky that these women are willing to share their lives with me. My coworker Rose, the mama with her baby tied with a leso to her back, her son, her daughter and myself made up our group. We ended up meeting with another two carts driven by mother and daughter, respectively (the daughter being about 8 I would guess, and handling the donkey like a pro) before arriving at the river.

There were a few other women and children from the village who had arrived before us to fetch water and everyone unloaded their jerry cans onto the bank to be filled. We all just started grabbing any of the cans and filling them by wading to our mid-calf into the river and pushing the mouth of the bucket below the water. Simple enough. Well, I managed to get my dhira soaked as well as my garabta (head scarf) since I’m not a professional at water avoidance like the mamas – although, it didn’t seem to matter since after we filled all of the cans people started jumping in. The mama I came with took off her dhira and got in for a bath in her slip and the kids just jumped all the way in wearing their clothes. Rose and I just lifted our dresses and waded in since we weren’t dressed appropriately enough under them to jump in too, but it was really tempting. Even though yesterday wasn’t a hot day by Garissa standards, the cool water still felt amazingly refreshing and the sun was out to dry you off fast. We all had a few good laughs at my expense. When filling the jerry cans something would rub against my foot every once in awhile causing me to squeal, kick my feet up, and run back to the shore. I did get less scared once everyone started jumping in though and now think going back there for a swim one day sounds like a great plan!

It’s probably a good thing that Rose and I didn’t decide to jump in because shortly after the bathing began a man from the village arrived. He was bringing the camels down for a drink and arrived ahead of the herd. To my surprise he helped one woman who was washing clothes in the river and talked with Rose and I about the benefits of being literate and having an education. His name is Ahmed Hassan and he was very excited to talk to us and answer all our questions about camels. We had a brief battle about whether the water in the river is dirty – he argued that no, it wasn’t because it cant make them sick since their stomachs are so strong. I replied that even though it might not make them sick every time, it is still dirty (point proven when the camels came and peed and pooped in the water, though I’m sure he doesn’t see it that way). We had planned to go back to the village with the mamas but he promised to take us to the shamba after the camels watered so we stayed behind when they took the water jugs (now strapped and positioned exactly onto the carts) back to the village. The mama we came with insisted on staying and accompanying us on the trip to the shamba even though she had her baby with her, it’s a long walk, she’s nursing still, and its Ramadan currently which means she is fasting all day (no food or water). Maybe she was nervous about leaving us with the men? So, we waited on the bank of the river talking about Kenya and life until the camels came. The sand is so soft on the bank and Rose and I were relaxing and enjoying the view when suddenly I was almost run over by a camel. I had no idea they had even arrived until they were right next to me walking down the slope to enter the water. They were within inches of my body and camels are really big so you can only imagine how monstrous they looked to me from a sitting position. At one point they came so close I ran/fell onto the other side of Rose and curled up against her cracking up at myself for being such a chicken. The guys had a good laugh about the chicken white lady.

Camels really are amazing animals. They remind me of dinosaurs in some ways: the sounds they make, the look of them (strange faces and bushy eyebrows), and their huge feet. I hadn’t brought my camera with me because I wanted to fully experience the day and sometimes feel like having a camera doesn’t let you get a good feel for everything, but in that moment I really regretted the choice. I plan to go back another day and I’ll bring my camera then. Seriously though, the image of 20 camels of all sizes wading into the river… it was an amazing site. Ahmed Hassan then milked one of the camels with another man while standing on one leg and balancing the bucket on his knee. His head was about level with the camel’s tits. I asked him if I could try and received a firm “no” in response. Though, today I was told by a coworker that it’s a bad omen for women to milk a camel because it will cause the camel never to bear milk again. Hmm, I’m gonna have to find a really open-minded Somali to let me try and milk a camel. I wonder how they feel about letting a woman ride one…? He offered us a taste but we both quickly declined after looking in the bucket at the little specks of “dirt” from the camel’s tit that were floating in the milk. I did end up trying it later though (only a cap-full) and I didn’t get sick.

On the way back to the village we passed through the community shamba. It’s a collection of gardens and fields that the community owns collectively. The farm comes us up on you so suddenly out of the desert. One moment you are walking through sand, past brown bushes with killer spikes and seeing only the occasional spot of green, and the next you are in the Garden of Eden. Banana trees, mangos, papaya, guava, and maize being grown alongside a winding moat of water pumped from the river. It is really impressive what they have going on there and so, SO green!! It feels like a completely different part of Kenya. It’s nothing like the rest of Garissa and one of the most surprising things I’ve seen since coming here. I tried to ask how the money from the produce comes back to the villagers, but it was hard to get an answer because the only one who even spoke enough Swahili to talk to Rose was the mama’s son. But he said that they pay for the water for the shamba, then pay the workers, then the money goes into an account for the community. But I’ll have to get more information about their shamba at the next meeting. Before leaving we were given many guavas and papayas (sadly the mangos aren’t in season – I’m dying a little bit every day). We then went to a second shamba where they were growing tomatoes and were given yet another bag bursting with tomatoes. The kindness of these communities is wonderful. We tried to have the mama keep some, but she would only take some few tomatoes because her family doesn’t like papaya (join the club, mama).

The whole day was such an eye-opening experience and I’m so thankful that I was able to do it. I have two more days this week that I will spend in the field with the other communities I work in and I’m really excited for the opportunity. It’s nice to get outside the city and get closer to understanding how people live in this area. I feel very fortunate to have had this experience.

Today was my first day back to work after a month-long trip around Kenya for various Peace Corps activities and thankfully some vacation. (I’ll write more about the trip soon). On my way home I stopped at a nearby duka to pick up some veggies to make pasta sauce tonight for dinner (a newly acquired talent – I never knew it was so easy). In front of me in line was a 5-year old-ish kid who is pickier about produce and knows more about haggling than I do… Kenya will never cease to amaze me. He was hassling the owner about the quality and size of some passion fruits he was buying in an effort to get a few more for his 50 ksh. My experience? I asked for some veggies, he gave them to me, and I paid the price he asked… maybe someday I will be better at bargaining; really I’d even settle for not hating it. Give me a flat rate and I’m a happy girl.   Being back home after living out of a bag and in resting my head in 7 different places is a welcome feeling. My own bed. My old roommates and a new one. My kitten (although the saga continues as he can now not walk with his back legs and just drags them around behind him – we’re going to the vet tomorrow morning). Its interesting being back now and thinking about my first ever arrival in this town. My initial impressions are funny to think about now that I know the place better and feel so comfortable here. Walking home after work I have a sense of heading to my home, in my neighborhood with my neighbors. In the beginning I was doubtful I could ever feel this way about Garissa. It’s not overly charming upon first sight. This place grows on you though, and more so the people grow on you. You get adjusted to the heat (thanks to this past year I’m now cold anytime the temperature goes below 75-80° and I even broke down and bought gloves to wear in Nairobi).   Over the past year, I’ve discovered many things about myself. I have identified strengths I never knew I had and have figured out how to just go with the flow. I feel more independent and more connected to the world at the same time. I have a new-found appreciation for friendships, new and old. I’ve also discovered weaknesses; my impatience, for example. Not really a new discovery, however I find it more of an obstacle here in a world of fluid deadlines and flexible time. I’m trying to work on that in the next year, for the sake of my sanity and the people who I work with. I’m proud of the person I’m becoming through this experience and I find myself getting better at standing up for myself (I guess you need to know who you are and be confident about it before you can really stick up for yourself). Many more discoveries and revelations lay in the year ahead and I’m excited to see what it will bring. Ups and downs certainly, but also so many more wonderful experiences and memories and lessons.   HIGHLIGHTS and ACCOMPLISHMENTS ·         Obviously, my Dad and brother’s visit during the holidays was amazing! We had so much fun and got to see so much of Kenya. ·         Visiting home for Theresa and Mark’s wedding and seeing everyone during that trip was definitely another high point for the year. I couldn’t imagine missing that for the world. Being home made me feel like the most spoiled person on earth, so many people love me!·         Returning to Loitokitok a year after my own training to help train the next group of Public Health Volunteers; I got to see my family again and also meet a bunch of really great trainees. It’s funny how much that place feels like coming home to me, even after living in Garissa for a whole year.·         Spending New Years on the coast with a great group of PCVs and having people make the long trek out to Garissa for the Super Bowl party.·         Having a great discussion with a large crowd about all things related to HIV at World AIDS Day.·         Being asked to join the group planning the Regional Girls Health Camps; this project has put me back on track so many times and helped to keep everything else in perspective.·         Starting the SIMAHO Community Health Education Program and seeing how it has been received by the community and embraced by SIMAHO staff has been a really rewarding, and time consuming, experience. It’s definitely something I’ll be able to look back on and say, “I did that”.   BIGGEST CHALLENGES ·         Seeing poverty and starving people on a daily basis and knowing I cant help everyone (or really do very much for any one person) – its especially hard seeing the kids begging in Nairobi or the children sniffing glue out of a bottle tucked under their noses.·         Figuring out my place in Garissa and at SIMAHO.·         Catching my stride with the school program. Especially, juggling all the schools and trying to meet with my Women’s Groups.   RANDOM FACTS ·         I’ve read around 31 books.·         I am NOT tan. Seriously, how is this possible? (I was described as the tall pale girl by the new group, awesome…)·         The cat around my work has had kittens 3 (possibly 4) times.·         I’ve seen a cat walking around near my work which was inexplicably dyed red.·         Leaves came out of the tap in my yard as I was filling my water jugs, although the water itself was actually clear for once.·         Mosquitoes and safari ants love me! They will bite me preferentially over just about anyone else around me… unlucky. (side not: safari ants got into my underpants on a hike in Kakamega forest; no one else really had a problem).   GOALS FOR NEXT YEAR ·         Bring more color and fun into the World AIDS Day celebration in Garissa and encourage participation by more community groups and individuals.·         Go to a Somali wedding.·         Learn more of the Somali language and practice my Swahili more often.·         Start the Community Empowerment Fund and encourage the Women’s Groups to start IGAs.·         Share more responsibility with my coworkers for the projects and programs I am working on to ensure their continuation and build the skills of SIMAHO staff.·         Finally get a good rhythm with the school program (where every week is not a mad dash to find help or do copies) and make a manual for future use about how to run and/or build on the program.·         Successfully implement the Regional Girls Health Camps and the follow-up community education.

These are some pictures of the kids I play with and teach on Sundays. There is more about this day in my blog below.The boys posing, there is a video too that is so cute, but I can upload that... they were saying "you cant see me" and waving their hands in front of their faces (apparently its a famous John Cena move a guy from WWE which EVERY Kenyan loves)

I think I should ask for funding from NFL in exchange for them using this picture ;)

They love to pose, only it's hard to get them to hold still.

I think this is the beginnings of a new house, but for now it will be monkey bars that they can play on.

This is what they wrote on my gate :)

I’ve been so busy over the past few months. The school program has been all but sucking the life out of me between my frustrations about lack of support (financial, moral, and otherwise) from SIMAHO, the wonderful feeling of working with an engaged and curious class, and the infuriating experiences standing in front of 50+ students who don’t care, don’t want to be there, and don’t listen – its entirely defeating. On the whole, it seems like things are coming together, pole pole, so I try to take it as it comes. I know that the management really likes this program and wants it to succeed, but the school program has been falling through the cracks between them focusing on other projects and staff crises. Somehow, we’ll figure this out and find a rhythm that works for everyone, I just hope it’s soon. My women’s groups have taken a spot on the back burner these past few weeks and I’m feeling badly about that. But last week, we had a wonderful meeting in Atheyle and I learned some very interesting things about their practices. For example, if a woman is having prolonged labor they used to put her on a donkey and ride her around town (although they were proud to report this isn’t done any more) and for women with delayed after birth they put her on the back of another woman and jiggle her around while pressing her back with some wooden tool (yes, they still do this – although we talked about how it may be harmful to the woman). They would like to have a new water source so I need to get serious about helping them to find funding. The other 2 groups will have to wait a week or so, but then I should be back on track with the monthly meetings. Things are moving along really well in terms of planning for the Regional Girls Health Camps. I spent an afternoon last week meeting with people about the camps. The District Education Officer had a support letter ready, which, I was informed by the District Health Officer, would promptly be followed by his own letter of support. At the FTC (the future location of the camp in Garissa if all things go well) I met with a very enthusiastic man who was amazingly helpful and sympathetic to a charitable cause. He was happy to lower prices and negotiate set rates for services because this camp is for a good cause. Everyone I met with was thoroughly supportive of the camp and its intention – which lifted my spirit immensely. The one exception – and a big one that is weighing on me – is the view of the Ministry of Education (or at least the second and third in command to the District Education Officer) about condoms. While I’m not surprised to hear an argument against the discussion of condoms by a Somali, I was surprised at his vehemence on the issue. I guess I felt as if at-large Somalis are against condoms, but that most individuals are reasonable when it comes down to facts and teaching the truth. These men flat out told me we could not talk about condoms as a possibility at all. Not even as a last resort if a girl doesn’t have control over a situation involving sex. He argued that in this society women are required to remain virgins until marriage, and hormones are running high among the age group we are targeting so if you give them any other option aside from abstinence they will be curious and try it. Or they will feel like there are options other than remaining abstinent or getting pregnant. I didn’t really say much in response because I was so shocked and also because I didn’t want to step on toes when I’m coming to them for approval on a project, but conversations will need to happen as we are moving forward. I’ll ask around to see what the general feeling is within the community. It was so frustrating to hear though, particularly because I know there are people within the town (other high-ranking officials and even religious leaders) that wouldn’t have a problem with saying that condoms should be used only if remaining abstinent is not an option. But at least there is time for meetings and negotiations. The other day I took my camera with me to lay with the kids and got so many great shots! My favorite is of what they wrote on my gate “RECHO NI TEACHER”. When the kids first showed it to me I was afraid maybe someone had written something bad on my gate, but when I read it I was so happy. It means “Rachel is a teacher”. They were really proud of it and I can tell they really like having me around. It feels good.

I have somewhat adopted a new philosophy over the past weeks. So many things in these past months, especially the school program, have really been causing me stress. I find myself on the verge of losing my temper so frequently. Yet somehow when it boils down to my flash point, I’m able to remember that this is a great learning experience – most of the time anyway. I can’t be expected to be perfect all the time and the reason I joined the Peace Corps was to be challenged. Well, here is my challenge. I’ve somewhat managed to convince myself that the small failures don’t add up to a larger one. That actually, every small failure and bump along the road is shaping an experience which can’t possibly end in less than a success. I am here. I am doing it. I will make it through. And that is the real point of this all – what I learn (about myself and about the world) in the process of trying to do some work.

Home. I was there for two weeks and then I came back home.   My time in Seattle, LaConner, Edmonds, Kirkland, and Pullman was perfect. All of it. I had the most wonderful vacation I could have ever imagined and was shown how spoiled I really am by my amazing friends and family. I was scared, leaving Kenya, that Home would be strange to me, that I would feel overwhelmed or anxious, but I just felt comfortable. It was oddly as if I had never left in the first place. Like the last 11 months were the exciting and trying dream of a really long night and I was now back to real life (but that I had pictures to show about and people who were interested in hearing stories of). Yes, shopping malls were a bit much, and I couldn’t help but spend many minutes starting at the vast selection of foods and snacks on the shelf in the stores, but it wasn’t the shock I imagined. I guess Peace Corps really does teach you flexibility… go with the flow. That’s what I did for my two weeks at home and I couldn’t have had more fun or made better use of my time if I had tried. So, to all my friends and family: thank you for my most amazing vacation and welcome/send off part two a girl could ever ask or hope for. I love you and miss you already!   Leaving Home and returning home, was not what I expected either. It was neither overwhelming nor strange after being away. It was like I had never left. Like the previous two weeks were just a crazy, food, friends, and family-filled dream, and I was back to real life. The chaos on the roads, the crowded buses, the smell of garbage from the piles on the streets… it was all familiar and comforting in its own way.  Coming home was not quite the transition I imagined it would be, I fell back into my routine with the added bonus of having a renewed wind. It feels like I’ve returned with a charged battery and a fresh state of mind. I’m back to my usual comforts (Somali eish – my favorite meal, a familiar and warm culture, a warm climate, and an improved diet – at least from a health perspective). I’ll admit that having to share my seat on the bus back to Garissa with a vomiting 8-year old and the women crowding the isle was a bit of a rough welcome back, but mostly it was all good.   Home and home; I’m lucky to have two. Not many people I would guess can leave Home, to come home. I suppose the question now is: which life is real? I don’t think I know the answer.

I’ve always heard that in Peace Corps your lows are incredibly low but the highs are incredibly high. Up until this point I haven’t really experienced too much of either. I haven’t been very low (and was counting my blessings) but I also didn’t think I had experienced the super high either (sadly). Well, now I have and I can tell you, it’s completely accurate. A couple weeks ago I experienced the lowest point so far.   I spent most of the morning in my office on the verge of tears. Why? Because I came to the realization that I’ve been here for almost 7 months and I haven’t accomplished anything yet. Most of all, I’m doing almost no health education (you know, the main point as a public health volunteer). I was seriously feeling so underutilized at SIMAHO and an utter failure at life outside it – at least in terms of starting up my own side projects. I have ideas, but none of them seem to go anywhere and in the mean time there is nothing going on at work to keep me busy. It’s so unbelievably frustrating being around people working hard, wanting to work hard, and having nothing to do… Luckily, the failed (ok, not totally failed because I ended up talking to 6 mamas and there were some good questions brought up that were really important) nutrition seminar I gave at work that morning sparked an idea which hit the ground running fast enough to make even my American head spin. I guess I just needed to find the right thing to suggest that fit with SIMAHO, was inexpensive, and I can do almost by myself. Or maybe the strategic plan we had just finished and all the goals and expectations it put forward for the organization were looming large so that Zahra and Rumana really are feeling pressure to move ahead. There is a big push coming to expand our services (especially community health education). I don’t really care why, I was just excited it happened. This has the potential to be a really amazing project! It’s so important for the mamas, simple to implement, and even with the snacks and incentives, it wont be too spendy (I might even be able to get some PC money through a partnership programs grant, in which case I’ll be putting it online for anyone to donate to and I’ll definitely let you all know in case you’d like to help). I suppose I should explain my project. I’ll be going to 3 different villages in the nearby rural area each month and meeting with the mamas to give health talks as well as holding a meeting for mamas at the clinic once a month. We will talk about everything relating to being mothers and keeping themselves and their kids healthy: pregnancy, birth, dealing with complications during pregnancy and birth, good nutrition, water and sanitation, kitchen gardens, composting…etc. I really want it to be a time where the mamas feel safe enough to bring up any problems they are facing and for group problem solving. It will just be me, the women, and a translator. I want to show the mamas that what they deal with is important and worth attention. I am absolutely ecstatic about the opportunities this will bring.   It’s amazing how quickly that low became a high… My first mama’s group was in a village called Atheyle and it went so much better than I could have imagined or hoped. 25 women came and they listened so well. Afterwards they were so grateful and are excited for the next session. When we arrived the mamas greeted us and after being instructed by Zahra to take care of us, they went to work sweeping and preparing the meeting place under a big tree. The men were even really supportive – which is definitely not always the case in this area. I was really nervous at the beginning of my session because it was my first time doing this and I was on my own aside from the translator (Zahra came in the cab with us, dropped us and left). As it went on and I could see the mamas were listening and appreciating what I was teaching them it got better and now I wont be nervous about next time. I taught them the basics of nutrition: the food groups (3 in Kenya), how to avoid diarrhea, why eating healthy matters, what are the effects of poor nutrition (they laughed when I told them that a sign of protein deficiency – Kwashiorkor -  is hair colored like  mzungus and pointed at my hair for an example), and why it’s really important to eat health during pregnancy and breast feeding. After the session we had some time before the car could get us so we hung around with mama and her daughters. I had them teach me a bit of Somali (its been slow going, but I really want to learn at least enough to get by) and we talked about why going to school is good (the girls didn’t want to go). It’s really amazing how few kids are in school in this area, especially once you get out of the urban center of Garissa; girls especially. I talked with the mama about water in the village. They have a pump that doesn’t work, and the closest one that does work gives salty water (I asked around afterwards and found out that it is probably drilled into limestone) so they only use it to clean their clothes. They have to go all the way to the river for water to drink and cook with. They also said there aren’t really any latrines in the town so I told them we could brainstorm ways to get some next time I come.   When I got back to the office that day I made a schedule of educational programs with the topic, date, and who will facilitate. Soon, we’ll be starting education outreach in the schools too. There are 9 primary schools in our catchment area so that should definitely keep us busy. I have been busy coming up with the curriculum for all the different topics I have planned as well as a list of teaching materials and methods that can be used for the different forums (mama’s groups, clinic talks, and schools). This has very energizing for me and so wonderful because I feel like I’m hitting my stride. My peace corps service is coming together it feels like… Finally! On my way home that day I stopped in the market and saw the mama and the auntie I love. They were so excited to see me and the mama gave me a hug even (I hadn’t been by in a while since I’d been too busy to really cook dinner). I used a new Somali phrase I learned that day “biria imani” (which I thought meant “we’ll meet again” but turned out to mean “I’ll see you tomorrow” – it worked fine in the situation though). They smiled so big! As I walked away I hear one say “anajua Kiswahili n asana anajaribu kujifunze afsomali” (“she knows Swahili and now she is trying to learn Somali”). I don’t think that day could have been any better. Rose, Mercy and I even went out to celebrate that night. We got dressed up and everything even though its just a regular bar where we went. Sometimes it just feels right to get a little dolled up and be girly.   Since my first mama’s group things haven’t stopped coming. The others haven’t been quite as wonderful as the first, but they are all different and that’s good too. In one center the mamas got so, so mad at us saying “you tricked us!”. They thought that because we were giving a health talk and invited them that they would be getting paid for it (a common perception/expectation throughout Kenya). I wasn’t too upset by this since I only want women who are interested in learning to come anyway. If I have to coerce someone into coming they aren’t likely to take much away from it, but if they want to be there then these groups have a lot of potential. It’s so frustrating though because I come with information, chai, and chapati and they just get mad I haven’t brought money – as if I’m not going out of my way to help them. Oh well, like I said I just want mamas to come who want to be there and I know some of them will (plus, I cant learn 30 names very quickly so a smaller group is fine by me). I’ve been completely busy at my primary and secondary projects. I haven’t had a weekend in three weeks!! But I love it and wouldn’t change it for the world. I am addicted to being busy so not having enough time is infinitely preferable to being bored all the time in my opinion. This, what I am finally doing, feels like what I thought Peace Corps would. I am making a difference in mamas lives, and even if it’s a small difference for just a few mamas in a few villages, it’s a difference and I started the project. I feel energized and motivated and love every second of it. Soon my organization will be going into the local schools and teaching health seminars so I’ve already begun preparing for that. It will give me a chance to do all the fun activities with kids that I’ve been thinking up and reading about in my books.    I spent the better part of the last week (from about 8am to at least 9pm) working on the second Symposia for the G-Youth project. We invited the youth to a conference to work on further developing their project proposals, strengthening their leadership skills, and being more comfortable sharing their opinions and making their voices heard. It was a lot of preparation, but it paid off and then some. The youth have so much potential and energy and its really impressive and exciting to see. I love helping them figure out that they can do something and helping them to learn how to plan and implement their ideas. I’m mentoring two projects which are spreading awareness of HIV within their communities and am really excited to see what happens over the next month.  The only down side to all this is that I won’t be around for the culmination of all this work the youth are doing. There is a big Youth Action Summit (YAS) and Garissa Youth Days coming up the first week in May – right when I’ll be home. This will be such an amazing event and opportunity for the youth in this area to showcase their talents, their ambition, and their projects and I’ll miss it. It kills me every time we talk about plans for the YAS (which unfortunately is basically all the time now that Symposia 2 is over). But I am still excited about being involved in the project and am hopeful that once this is over and goes well that there will be a repeat next year. And you can be sure I won’t miss it next time!   I’ve also been getting to know the kids in my neighborhood better since I started to play games with them and now they always greet me with big smiles. I tried to hug a couple of them the other day but I don’t think hugging is so common here because it just turned out really awkward, but maybe they’ll learn. This weekend one of the mamas even played volleyball with me. She was really good too! She kept the ball going back and forth for a long time.  The kids come to my gate and knock at least once a week looking for water and I try to be accommodating because it breaks my heart that they have to go around begging for it from people’s compounds. At the same time I’m trying to find a balance so that they aren’t always coming to me asking for things… or coming at 7 in the morning on a Saturday and pounding on my gate until I come out (yeah, not my favorite way to wake up). What I’d like to do is figure out a more formal activity for all of us to do that I can use to teach them about health.

Since I’ve been in Kenya I have had some really strange dreams and semi-hallucinations in my half wakefulness. Likely this is because of the medicine I take for malaria prophylaxis. For the most part I find them very entertaining (if not right at the moment, then later when I’m thinking back on them) so I’ve decided to share a few with you, so you too can be entertained by the randomness of my mind.

During IST, while we were staying in the conference center, I awoke one night under my mosquito net convinced that there was a baby octopus (yes it was orange) dangling from a web (like a spider would) directly above my head. In my half asleep state with my heart pounding, its more that I could sense that it was there then “see” it in the dark, but it really scared me. Before common sense kicked in, I grabbed my phone and had turned on the flashlight it has built in and was searching my net to make sure that the octopus was no longer inside… This is an example of one I find immediately funny. I laughed out loud at myself. Really?! An octopus dangling like a spider? Where did I think it would have come from? I find this is a recurring theme of my mefloquin dreams; things being inside my net. I have woken up convinced that a snake was inside my net, that cockroaches were crawling all over it, and all manner of other bugs joining me inside. These usually end in my searching every inch of the inside of my net to convince myself it was really a dream, although I’m becoming quicker at identifying the craziness and no longer feel the need to turn on a light.

Another dream I’ve had involved the other PCV at my site, Dan. Dan and I were at a party, I think it was like college party or something, drinking beers and hanging out. He really wanted me to go to another party but I wasn’t feeling it, I just wanted to relax and have a low-key night. He begged and offered me honey (just stay with me here, it gets even more strange and random…). “Just have some honey and we’ll go, its LSD honey.” I don’t know how to explain this, but in my dream it was not immediately obvious nor did I feel the need to be concerned by the brand name of the honey: LSD. So reluctantly, I gave in and ate the honey. While at the party I ran into friends I have rarely seen from high school, one of which was pregnant and drinking beer while smoking. I actually started having a good time and the next thing I knew it was light outside. I asked Dan what time it was and he told me it was 4. I had that feeling I always get when I’ve been up all night and see the sun rise – the simultaneous sense of awe and shattering of magic – and said, “its 4am already?!”. Everyone just looked at me like I was either crazy or maybe it was pitty…? Dan said, “no, it’s 4PM.” I was stunned, confused, and immediately panicked wondering what I was supposed to have done that day, what obligations I’d missed. I came to the realization that I must have blacked out, but I couldn’t figure out why. I was trying to put it all together when Dan said, “morning acid flashbacks are the worst!” to which I responded, “WHAT?!” He said, “you mean you’ve never had a morning acid flashback before?!” like it was the most normal experience to have and he was completely shocked at my inexperience. Obviously I started freaking out and getting angry as the implications of my unknowing drug use kicked in and I felt my life spinning out of control (common experience in my dreams, that I’ve done something I cant take back which will affect the rest of my life – I’m sure what a therapist would say is indicative of my need for control). So I got really mad at Dan who then explains that it was my choice and of course the honey had acid in it… Thankfully, this was about the time I woke up.

Another time I dreamt that my group of PCVs had to be vaccinated against snake bites. Not only did we have to give ourselves the shot, but we then (to solidify the immunity) had to allow ourselves to be bitten by huge python snakes. These snakes looked like something from the movie Anaconda and we were supposed to just let them bit us. Well, in the process as the rest of us are freaking out, Sonya and Dan W do get bitten... and then swallowed. We had to cut Dan out of the snake and luckily snakes just swallow you whole so he was just covered in slime. Dan's reaction to all this? Nonchalance... he thought it was no biggie and thanked us for cutting him out.

The irony of my being called down to Mombasa in the middle of the week to get a flu vaccine is that for months I’d been hoping for a call from PC saying for some reason or another I had to go to the coast, but the time I actually get the call is the one time I have legitimate plans in town and don’t want to go. Tough, it was required, so come Wednesday morning I was on the bus. My plans were with G-Youth, my secondary project. We were having the first day of the first group of youth attending the first Symposium for our project. Two youth from each village around Garissa were chosen by their peers to be youth leaders and participate in this program where they will develop volunteer projects with other youth in their village. They will learn how to write proposals and implement projects and then will present their projects in a Youth Action Summit in April. I was so excited to see the youth work through the process and wanted to meet them so they would feel more comfortable coming to me for advice (my primary purpose in the project is to act as a resource person and mentor if they need help with their projects). That’s not to say I was entirely upset at having to go to the coast (I never could be considering how much I love it and I’m never against seeing friends) but the timing was not so good.

I enjoyed seeing my friends and it was convenient in that I was already planning to go down to the coast to meet up with Courtney and Kristin for the weekend so it meant I would already be there come Friday. The trip on Wednesday was less than pleasant, taking 12 hours up to Mombasa and arriving covered in dirt. At one point I wiped sweat from my face on the sleeve of my black shirt, thinking it would be no big deal since dark doesn’t show dirt. You know the song, “black socks they never get dirty, the longer you wear them the blacker they get...” Not so much. It left a large brown spot where my sweat mixed with all the dust and grease from my face appeared on the cloth… awesome. I could see the dust, which was not coming through the windows, but from the undercarriage of the bus, accumulating in my collar bones and clinging to my clothes. Luckily when I got to the hotel I was told my roommate would be Mary who I hadn’t seen since IST and that was a huge pick-me-up. And the shower, of course.

I spent Thursday with my friends eating at our favorite place, Tarboush, which has delicious chicken schwarma, and drinking at our favorite chill coffee place, and getting my H1N1 vaccine - ouch. Then we bought cereal and milk and cheese and crackers for dinner… oh the things we miss! Sadly the cheese (a brie that I have had before) tasted like it was made in the Dead Sea and was actually difficult to eat, but we toughed it out unable to just let it be wasted. The following morning we met up for coffee before heading off our own ways, but first I had to wait for an hour past the time they told me my laundry would be ready for it to arrive. I had given in and decided to pay the hotel to clean a few things since I got so filthy on the way down and the women told me it would be ready by 11. I asked if maybe they could have it by 10 since that’s checkout time and they said yes, maybe by 10, but it turns out it never comes before 11. Sometimes I wish Kenyans could be more straight-forward instead of just telling you what you want to hear, but then again I’m the one who keeps listening… I have had an epiphany though. When Kenyans say “somehow” that should be interpreted like the American “ish”. For example, you might ask them, “is it dangerous” and they respond “somehow.” I believe this will be a helpful lesson.

My friends went ahead and ran some errands while I waited and during that time they text me to say they had found a really cute kitten which they would bring to coffee if I wanted it. I had been thinking about getting a kitten ever since the mice and rats and bats invaded our house and had even talked to my roommates about getting one. I told them to bring it along (even though in the back of my mind I knew there was no way I could bring it with me) so at least I could see it. When I got to coffee and saw the kitten hiding in the couch cushions I fell in love. It is by far this cutest cat I have EVER seen in Kenya and was so little with huge blue eyes… He just hid behind me against the cushion and eventually started to enjoy being pet. After a lot of back and forth, and thinking about all the traveling I still had to do for the weekend, I decided to give it a shot. I figure: worst case scenario, I realize I can’t make it all the way home with him and leave him somewhere which would likely still be better than roaming the streets of Mombasa. We decided he should be named Matoke and called Mo for short. I put him, bundled up in a laso, into my bag and headed up the coast to meet with Kristin and Courtney. He slept most of the way to Malindi and only tried seemed really agitated on the ride to Watamu after we stopped to buy my ticket home and some fish for him to eat. I was really surprised by the reaction from the Kenyans, who generally don’t keep pets for their companionship, but seemed really interested in Matoke. Even the matatu touts loved him and reached in the window to pet him as we went by. One man kept calling him my baby and laughing as Matoke peeked his little head out of my bag. Most memorably, one of the touts at a stop reached in to pet Matoke and told me, “I like your pussy… I like your pussy cat.” This awkward moment, like so many others, brought to you courtesy of British English. All I could do was laugh (at least once I realized what he was really talking about).

The rest of the weekend with Matoke went better than I expected, especially considering Kristin is allergic to cats which I had forgotten and he had to sleep outside at the hotels. Luckily, the staff all thought he was cute and didn’t seem to mind too much my keeping him around. The manager came out at Turtle Bay and I really thought we were in trouble, but he just offered a cage to keep him in so the monkeys wouldn’t take him. We found out quickly that my little adorable kitten is an escape artist extraordinaire. We came back from dinner the first night to find him in the dark alley next to our hotel. More accurately, a dog found him and we noticed before it had a chance to eat him. After only a short time in the cage at Turtle Bay Matoke realized he could fit through the holes between the bars and spent most of the day on top of his cage, though thankfully he remained on our porch. Taking him back on the bus to Garissa was a challenge, but we made it, somehow. He stayed on my lap for awhile but once we hit the turbulence portion of the road he spent the remainder of the trip desperately attempting to escape to the space under the seats. I grew so tired of picking him up (and prying his claws out of my legs, and the legs of my neighbor) that I wrapped him in my laso and dangled him between my legs. This may seem harsh, but really, he wanted to be down there anyway judging from his attempts at escape and I couldn’t deal with his shenanigans or his pestering of my neighbor so it was necessary. I didn’t ever leave him in there for too long and rationalized that the end point (my safe and wonderful home with food and love) was worth a little hassle if it was saving him from a life of hardship. Right? I did feel like a kidnapper and as a result spent most of the time desperately hoping this tiny creature would develop Stockholm Syndrome and start to love me. I think he has judging from his following me around the house and sleeping next to me as I watch movies. He will be the most spoiled cat in Kenya between my roommates and I. Lucky Matoke.

I told my coworkers that I had a cute new kitten which I brought with me from Mombasa and instead of being surprised, they expressed serious concern. Apparently you should never pick anything living from Mombasa and bring it with you because they have many ghosts. It’s been known to happen that people pick up a goat or some other animal which becomes a human on the way home and begs to be returned to Mombasa. They were not impressed with my ignorance, but it’s too bad because I love my little ghost.

Getting back to the weekend at the coast with Courtney and Kristin, it was amazing! The strange thing about hanging out with them on the beach in Kenya is that it didn’t feel strange at all. We had fun catching up and just enjoyed a relaxing time at the beach. I miss those girls so much and it was nice to have girl time. Plus, we obviously enjoyed fawning over Kristin’s 5-month baby belly (so cute) and feeling the baby kick! When we arrived at the beach we met one of the friends I made on vacation with my brother and dad. I introduced him to the girls and shook his hand. Unfortunately, his hand shake included the not so subtle wiggly finger to my palm… so inappropriate. I’m totally appalled that in a country that relies on peer pressure and shame to regulate inappropriate behavior something so violating could persist. It makes sense, somehow, because it is only known to the recipient of the hand shake and thus no outward signs could bring the shame, but the knowledge that you are the only one aware of the advance almost makes it worse. I’m just thankful this doesn’t exist in America as it does in so many other countries of the world. At least it seemed fairly harmless coming from this guy.

The entertainment the first night was a production of Phantom of the Opera. I absolutely love this play and was excited to see what they would do with it. They definitely didn’t disappoint. The costumes were very elaborate: white wigs, gold lipstick and gold face sparkles, and wild white hair for the phantom. The began with dialogue from the auction scene (the entire production was from a tape with each person lip synched to at the appropriate-ish time) and then began the first song. The guy who played the girl’s other love interest clearly had no idea what the words to the song were and it appeared he was overcompensating for this with broad gestures, that also didn’t seem to fit exactly with the emotion he was trying to convey. The phantom and the girl did better for the most part. The actions they all used to emphasize the feeling behind the songs were priceless and you could tell people were a bit unsure about where to be. The best part was the second, and final, song in which the girls goes with the phantom. They put a boat into the pool and had two guys in teh water walk it across while the girl was seated and the phantom “steered”. I am really amazed at the amount of effort they put into these shows. The costumes are wonderful, the sets are elaborate, and they must practice. It just makes me happy. Plus, I LOVE The Phantom of the Opera and thoroughly enjoy any chance to listen and sing along with the music (the music of the night)… even if the play ended with the girl being taken to the dungeon. For the rest of the evening we had a dance party. Be “we” I mean Courtney, Kristin, me and the handful of Kenyans paid to be dancing. It was tons of fun and we didn’t even feel that weird about the audience, who had remained after the end of the play, watching. This was an amazingly fun weekend!

I spent so many months planning my Superbowl party and while the weekend didn’t turn out exactly as I expected, it was perfect. I arranged for the game to be shown at a bar in town that has a projection screen (the manager there is a friend of a friend). Having friends in town was wonderful and everyone loved my roommates. A few people came in Saturday and we had a great dinner and watched at movie at Dan’s place on his projection screen. Sunday we ate a delicious, late breakfast with coffee which made me so happy since I hadn’t spent a weekend lazing away in weeks. Sunday night the rest of my friends got into town just in time to meet up with the missionaries for a game of flag football. This part of the weekend had been planned, but as the day wore on and I fully embraced laziness I didn’t really want to play anymore. I didn’t really think through the playing in a skirt and flips anyway so it turned out to be a boys game which was fine with me. Deanne and I started throwing a ball around with some of the neighborhood kids and they really enjoyed that. One kid was so good we were sure he must have played American football before, but he hadn’t. The way he jumped to catch the ball looked as if he were mimicking a professional player in the end-zone, but I guess that’s just natural talent. There were Somalis gathered at the field to watch the game and they had their own football game going on too. A few girls even joined in our game of catch. We formed a circle and it just kept getting larger as kids joined in.

As the sun went down and we started to lose the ball against the black sky the games wrapped up. The boys seemed to have a lot of fun and I arranged with the kids to meet them back at the field in two weeks to throw the ball around again. I’m hoping to make this a regular activity. I have been wanting a way to interact with the youth in my area and I think this is perfect. I’m really excited because you never know where this might lead and what opportunities might arise. As the light faded and I looked around the field I was overcome with an intense feeling of happiness. Complete happiness and a sense of family that I haven’t felt in a long time. It’s wonderful how much friends can feel like family and how comforting coming together for an American tradition can be. After the games we all went back to my house to hang out until it was time to head to the bar for the game (it aired at 2:30am here). We were going to cook dinner but since we had all eaten snacks or small dinners already it seemed pointless to cook. We did eat cake for my roommates birthday (I baked a chocolate cake with chocolate frosting, mmm) and then just sat around talking. Eventually we realized that while we weren’t hungry at the time we were likely to want snacks at the bar and since they don’t serve any I made chapati to take with us. I really liked playing hostess to all my friends. Around midnight we headed to the bar and at 2:30 the manager turned up the sound on the game and we were in football heaven. The only sad part was that the international feed doesn’t play the commercials, so instead of whatever you saw in America, we had the same 5ish ESPN commercials over and over. I actually laughed at one with a cactus that looked like Shaq which they called a “Shaqctus”. Yes, I judged myself for it… I’ll chalk that one up to my deprivation and let it slide. Some of the kids had to leave to catch their bus before the game finished, but the rest of us finished it out and walked home as the light was coming up. The weekend was so wonderful that I didn’t even mind the loss of sleep. I’m already planning to do it again next year, but I’ll try to figure out how to get the internet feed with the commercials played at the bar… that may prove too technical for me, but hey, I can dream.

I have officially been at site now for half a year… I can’t believe it’s gone by so fast! It’s strange to think back to my first reactions to Garissa and how it felt to be here without knowing anyone or having a place to live even. In honor of this occasion I have made a list of things I’ve done/accomplished/got used to etc since living in Garissa.

After 6 months at site…

· I have only worn real shoes once time for less than one hour (my one and only time running in Garissa) – I heart flip flops

· I am accustomed to the call to prayer 5 times a day (even the one that happens around 4 every morning)

· I have given up wearing the head scarf because a) people felt it gave them license to criticize the rest of my outfit, b) I’m not Muslim or a Somali and that is very obvious by my skin color, so why try to hide it, and c) it’s a MILLION times more comfortable without a scarf on my head/neck in this heat

· I’m finding my place and starting projects with my organization and others in town

· I’m growing accustomed to the heat, I think

· I got to witness an awesome solar eclipse (longest of the millennium)

· I no longer get lost in the market

· I know where to find the good samosas

· I don’t think twice about the various animals roaming the town or sleeping in the middle of the road if that’s where the shade falls

· I have friends!!!

· I have honed my skills at bat/rat/scorpion elimination

· I feel a sincere appreciation for my mosquito net (only a thin mesh fabric, but so reassuring considering the nightly visitors – bats/rats/scorpions/bugs… etc)

· I realize that what I miss most about home (aside from family and friends) is cold drinking water and/or Jamba Juice

· I am thoroughly enjoying a better diet, with fresh fruit and veggies on a daily basis, though I miss having a fridge to keep them fresh longer

· I continue to be impressed by the dedication of my supervisors who have such big hearts for the members of the surrounding communities

· I have accepted my Peace Corps service will be without a bike since it wouldn’t be very culturally acceptable for a girl to ride one in this area (it played a key role in all my PC day dreams before I became a volunteer, so this one has been tough)

· Even my English is becoming Kenyan English… the order is changed and the Kenyan sayings are being added, this is going to make coming back hard, haha

· I have read 15 books (one of which was the Lord of the Rings Trilogy)

oh my god, this really long and I'm sorry for that... maybe read a section per day for the rest of your life? I'm kidding, it's not really THAT long, I hope.

Garissa: I was waiting by the window in the guest bedroom after I received a call from the taxi telling me they were with him and on the way. The view from that room is better than mine of the gate in the yard because there is less mosquito netting on the window and I couldn’t pull myself away. Thankfully, my roommates took over the final preparations of dinner in the kitchen (I had made a dish with cooking bananas called matoke which is like mashed potatoes but tastes naturally buttery and a stew of lentils and veggies to go with it). When I saw the lights from the cab come up to the gate I ran down and opened it (too excited to walk) and was met with a huge hug from my brother and then dad. It was so amazing to be seeing them and hugging them after 6 months of not seeing anyone!! We ate dinner and caught up a bit but the jetlag made it an early night for us all. Not that I was jet-lagged but I was tired also from not sleeping the night before since I had been too excited about their arrival.

On their one full day in Garissa I wanted to show them the gist of the town so we started out eating breakfast at my favorite hoteli. Safari has the best food and prices and I wanted to share the joy. We all had chapati na mayai (chapati with a fried egg on it) which is the tastiest breakfast in the world (and which Sam wanted every subsequent morning, but sadly never had again). It was strange wearing my head scarf while walking around town with my dad and brother. We stopped by my work just long enough for them to meet everyone who was there and then grabbed our cab driver Hunash to take us out into the bush. The drive was beautiful, though the clouds took a bit away from the beauty (on the other side it made the temperature decent so that was a huge bonus). We had Hunash take us to one of the towns on the outskirts and back. I was getting a bit nervous that we wouldn’t see anything especially cool on the trip other than the bad condition of the road and desert plants and sad, but on the way back we came across a large family of baboons. Dad and Sam were really excited about that, and I’m always excited when I get to see monkeys, no matter how often it happens. Once back in town, we went to the market so they could meet the woman I buy my vegetables from. I had seen her the day before and told her they were coming so she wanted me to bring them by, but she wasn’t there (and was sad when I got back to town and she found out she missed meeting them). We spent some time looking at the clothes and I bargained for a skirt (one long enough for no one to argue with). Then we went to eat a snack/lunch and headed back to my place. During lunch Sam learned the lesson that one shouldn’t order fish when you are at least 9 hours from any ocean.

That evening I had a special plan: we would go for beers at a place across the bridge where you overlook the river (and supposedly can see hippos sometimes at dusk – though I never have) and drink your beers under the trees. The wonderful thing about this place is that it’s in the open-air at dusk and the temperature is completely reasonable, and you can catch a breeze if you’re lucky. After a few beers I went to another bar across the dirt path and ordered nyama choma (roast meat). When it was ready we migrated to the other place and ate a delicious meal of roast goat with ugali, kachumbari, (a bit like pico de gillo) and chapati on the side. I was happy they both liked it as it was my special treat to them. We had a pleasant walk home in the dark and went to bed soon after because our bus was leaving early the next morning. When I went to bed my stomach started really hurting me and as I was laying in bed, curled in the fetal position, I heard my dad and brother stiring… “damnit” I thought, “I’ve made us all sick! And on the first part of the vacation, right before a long bus ride…”, but it turned out I was the only one sick (maybe my stomach didn’t like so much meat at once when I hardly ever eat it?). Additionally, that night one of my winged friends also decided to come into my room, but since I was feeling ill and didn’t have the patience to fight with it, I just turned the lights on and let it sit in my window until morning. Luckily I was feeling mostly better by morning and we were able to catch the bus on time. Unfortunately, in my excitement to leave and being distracted by my worry over getting robbed while gone, I locked the bat into my room (which I only realized about an hour outside of Nairobi). Crap.

The bus ride was exciting. This is the first bus, of all the ones I’ve taken in Kenya, to get a flat tire – of course it would happen on vacation – so we spent an hour on the side of the road in a very small town. We made the most of it by trying to play with the children in the area, but they were mostly petrified of us and wouldn’t come any closer than 20 meteres. With time they grew more curious and eventually Dad was showing them how his camera worked and trying unsuccessfully to take their pictures (which they were very scared of). Back on the bus it was smooth sailing (at least between the checkpoints, which had at least doubled because of the holiday season), until we got closer to Nairobi and word of a thorough check point which would check the bus’s systems was heard. We pulled off the road and parked in a back ally so the conductors and drivers could examine all the systems and make sure we pass (though at one point I caught a clip of conversation where they were talking about possibly taking back roads around it). I’m very glad we stuck to the main road because even on that one, when you get near Thika there is a patch which is so pot-holed the drivers drive half on and half off the road, which might not be so bad if the resulting tilt of the bus didn’t dangle you on the edge of a 20 foot fall. Normally I just try to sleep through that part of the trip.

We made it safely to Nairobi (2 hours later than expected) but were rewarded with a hotel room built for a king. It was more like an apartment (not a small one) and we each had our own bedrooms – a good thing considering we were all cranky. I had been ever since getting back from IST for who-knows what reason, and dad and Sam from jet-lag and culture shock probably. We ate pizza and made the most of the night. In the morning we were off to Masai Mara for our safari!

Masai Mara: We took a small plane out to the hotel. From the window of the plane it was easy to see the Rift Valley and be impressed by its size, and it was interesting to watch all the changes in vegetation: from red to green to brown to speckled. The landing area at our hotel was just a patch of dirt in a sea of green where a shelter had been erected. It inspired an amazing feeling of remoteness upon landing. A short drive to the hotel and we were in paradise. The architecture of Mara Serena is impressive in itself but the whole resort is situated on top of a hill facing out over an open expanse of the game park so that animals can be seen from pool-side or while lounging in the lobby. While in the air we had met two British guys (Phil and Dougie) who were staying the same amount of time as us and who were really friendly so dad asked them if they wanted to do game drives together. The hotel has one drive at 7am and another at 4pm, and you can add in a night drive which starts at 7. We went to the pool for the afternoon and it was Sam who saw the first animal, before we even went on a drive. From the vantage point where he took his cigarette, he saw a large male and female lion!! Yeah, he definitely rubbed in his first place status. Our first game drive we were with an Australian named Brenden who had been on many safaris before and was able to point out a lot to us that we otherwise wouldn’t have known. We definitely got lucky that drive, we saw everything we wanted to: hippos, crocodiles, zebras, buffalos, gazelles, topis, lions (the same large male and female Sam saw from the hotel), elephants, a mama and baby rhino, a leopard, hyenas, and many cool birds. It was amazing how lucky we were!! We saw the Big 5 all in the first day J

The night drive with Phil and Dougie we did that night was a little less interesting. The biggest draw for me was the lighting storm making a great show of the sky (though no thunder could be heard). Mainly we saw a lot of eyes and small animals like dikdiks, long-tailed mongoose, hyenas, wild dogs… etc, but we got to see hippos out of water too and the same two lions at night this time (apparently they had been too busy mating all day to move around much and were found in exactly the same place as before). Phil and Dougie were good company, their sense of humor fit right in and we all had fun (even though my Garissa-adjusted body was FREEZING the whole time, even under my two layers plus a jacket from my dad – you’d have thought it was an arctic safari if you only saw me).

We came back and ate dinner with Phil and Dougie. A note on the food: SO SO WONDERFULLY AMAZING!! The buffet at this place had such an array of food that if you sampled everything I think you would explode, and the sad part was that everything looked delicious. Breakfast, lunch, dinner, all amazing and it was really hard to eat in moderation. I went to bed early that night because I wasn’t feeling well, but dad and Sam stayed out with Phil and Dougie drinking until late. The next morning I was too sick to go on the game drive and also missed the evening one too. I did however make it to the pool for a couple hours in the afternoon, but aside from that was again curled in the fetal position on my bed. I even had to miss the delicious buffets (tragic moment for a girl who is a fat kid at heart). Sam and dad saw a lot of cool things that day (like a leopard in a tree and cheetas with cubs) and they got to stand half in Tanzania and half in Kenya, so I’m glad if someone had to be sick it was me. It’s not my only time to spend in Kenya so if I miss something it isn’t as big a deal as if they did. I’m just happy I was able to go on the final morning drive, though dad was now feeling ill and didn’t come along. We didn’t see much that morning but we did have fun, and afterwards Sam and I got to eat a delicious bush breakfast by the hippo pool. Turns out hippos make some really funning grunting/snorting noises. There were tons of hippos and a bit further down (where we were escorted by a fake masai) there were crocodiles. Our whole experience at Mara Serena was amazing and we made a couple good new friends too which is always fun.

Lamu (aka the most wonderful place on earth – according to me): We arrived in Lamu after two plane rides and a boat ride on a dhow to a raucous celebration. As the boat arrived at the dock there were children in a wide variety of bathing attire (swim trunks, underwear, shorts, pants… etc) diving off the docks into the green-tinged water while music was blaring from a nearby loud speaker attached to a waterfront hotel. Kids and adults were piled around the railings of the dock to watch the divers and the dhow race taking place out in the channel. We were unaware of the reason for celebration and it was tempting to assume this just happened on a daily basis, but soon we discovered the reason: the Muslim New Year. The festivities gave Lamu an additional charm, though it didn’t need any extra help. The town is made up of tightly packed, tall, cement and brick buildings with every type of door imaginable leading into roads/alleys that were big enough only to allow a donkey cart to pass through. The hotel we stayed in was a converted 15th century house with three floors and a great view of other roof tops throughout town from its own open-air roof. Sam was definitely correct in pointing out that this is the kind of town a where a person could easily jump from roof to roof like in the movies. Along the water-front there is an array of wooden boats lined up: boats that bring food to the island (weighed down almost to the point of sinking), boats to take tourists to other beaches, boats for trips to the airport, and every type of personal craft imaginable.

We spent most of our time in Lamu eating at various establishments, though our favorite was the Lamu hotel (where we got to meet the owner, who is possibly English, Dutch, or German and very friendly). During our one full day in Lamu we walked down the beach, initially in search of the airline office to see if we could book a flight to Malindi instead of suffering a bus ride, but eventually just to see what was down there. After passing many impressive-looking gates (behind which we assume were impressive-looking houses/hotels) we came to the most wonderful beach I’ve been to in my life. The white sand stretches as far as you can see down the winding coast and behind it are dunes with palm trees and a castle (tacky, but somehow fitting at the same time). The water is clear and warm over sand bars, and there is a man called Mohammed who comes around selling samosas made by his mother (delicious, by the way). We got a ride back over to the airport and then back home from a very friendly captain who entertained Sam and I with stories about fish who will bite you on the penis if you are running in the water without shorts and of his wife who doesn’t like him, but sure likes his money while Dad went to investigate the tickets.

Our final day in town, before heading out to the airport, we wandered around town enjoying the crooked alley ways and exploring the shops full of crafts. We went into many which had wonderful paintings, carvings, and gifts, but our favorite by far was Mr. Slim. “Slim is my name and silver smith is my game”. He had some wood carvings, but his prized items were silver rings set with pieces of Chinese pottery he said were from the 17th century. He entertained us with stories about his love for Jimmy Carter (his favorite President because he continued to work for the people even after his term ended) and served us coffee and ginger snaps. You should ask my dad to see the video, I cant do justice to how energetic and friendly this guy is. As someone wrote in his comment book, “this guy could sell ice to Eskimos”. Its true.

Watamu: Another flight and a new town. First impressions aren’t everything it turns out, or this might not have been the wonderful 4 days it turned out to be. Walking into the lobby of the all-inclusive hotel, clearly built for tourists, we were met with blow-ups (the tacky inflatable yard ornaments becoming popular in America – to my disgust) of Santa and snowmen. At the front desk they slapped blue plastic bracelets onto our wrists (to remain there throughout our stay) and gave us t-shirts which had Santa on water skis in shorts and a t-shirt being pulled along by two turtles with Santa hats. Yikes. But, like I said, we ended up having a wonderful time. After game drives and city exploration we were all ready for the relaxing part of our vacation. We spent most of our time by the pool (especially since that’s where the buffet was served for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and snacks). We played darts, volleyball, water polo (Sam only), and made friends with other guests and some of the staff who played the games with us. It was even some of their jobs to populate the dance floor at the nightly discos, attended by Sam and I and only a handful of other guests since the majority were families with young children.

The all-inclusive bounty of the resort was hard for me to adjust to in the beginning. It’s difficult to let yourself enjoy something like this without feeling a pang of guilt after living with people in extreme poverty. I wouldn’t say I live in poverty, not at all, but this was excessive compared to my lifestyle so in the beginning I had to convince myself it was ok to sit back and enjoy it. Also, during the first night Sam and Dad turned up the air conditioning in our room and I had to sleep in pants and socks to stay warm. As a result, I spent the rest of our vacation with a cold which left me coughing any time I even walked too fast.

Over the days we went snorkeling, were shown moray eels by the beach boys (one particularly large eel, was named Obama), Dad and I went to the Gedi ruins which were very impressive, and Sam and I and some of our new friends jumped into the pool late on Christmas eve just because we were tired of not being able to swim. They had a celebration on Christmas Eve with carols and a special dinner so it almost really felt like Christmas for awhile (the most Christmas spirit I’ve had all season anyway). Mostly, though we worked on our tan between over-eating at meals and just relaxed. It was wonderful. And, the staff was really nice; leaving candies on our pillows every night and giving us a present for Christmas (a beautiful carved bone box painted with a scene of the waterfront).

Loitokitok: The last phase of our whir-wind trip around Kenya was to visit my host family and so Dad and Sam could see the town where I lived for 2 months. We went by cab, then by bus, then by matatu and it took 12 hours, but we made it just in time to quickly wash up and eat dinner which my mama had made for us. On the last leg of our journey (Christmas Day by the way, although none of us really felt like it) Mt. Kilimanjaro was visible barely through a break in the clouds as we neared town. I tried pointing it out, but Dad couldn’t see from his vantage point in the matatu. Seeing my brother and dad in the seat behind the driver with their knees pressed up against their faces was priceless! My baba even came to meet us at the matatu stage when we arrived and took us to our hotel so we wouldn’t have to walk and struggle with our bags. It was great seeing my family again and having my Kenyan and American families meet was fun. Kevin and Lydia loved Sam and had fun playing with all of us. Lydia kept asking me about presents, but we saved those for the next day so we just spent the evening eating and catching up. My mama kept thanking me for not forgetting my family, telling me how happy she was that I could still find my house, and layering on the guilt for staying in a hotel instead of in my room which they had again set up for me. My cold was getting the best of me at this point so I was drinking hot liquids to stay warm and trying to will my body not to ache (I’m pretty sure I had a fever).

When it came time to leave my mama tried to get my baba to drive us but I could tell it would be inconvenient for him so we decided to walk with him as an escort. My mama gave me a sweater to borrow for the walk home (and even helped me with the buttons) and we set off. About 2 minutes into the dark walk it started to rain. We took cover under the roof of a near-by duka hoping to wait it out, but the rain just kept falling and with increasing intensity. All I wanted at this point was to be warm in bed, but instead I was freezing outside under the overhang of a duka getting pestered by a local drunk man who just wouldn’t listen when I told him I was very tired and didn’t want to talk. Thankfully, Godi – a neighbor of my family and a friend – brought us umbrellas and Sam and Dad and I set off on what turned out to be quite an adventure. As the rain turned the roads and paths to mud, we all struggled not to fall with each step (we all had on sandals) and strained to see where we were walking by the light of my phone. After barely making it down the steepest hill in town, and then climbing half way back up the other side, I gave in to the elements and took off my shoes which were causing more problems than they were fixing. The rest of the walk home was punctuated by my “ouches” and “oohs”, but we made it and in a better mood than would be expected.

The following day we went to waterfall 51 with my mama, sister and brother and shockingly, it was really a waterfall! The El Nino rains have transformed all of Loitokitok for that matter, from the dusty town that I knew to what seems like a tropical paradise by comparison. The whole day I was amazed at the sights around me: fields that used to be brown and full of dirt now grew maize taller than me and coffee plants from every inch of ground, the trees were all green, my family’s garden was full. I couldn’t believe I was in the same place and Sam and Dad couldn’t imagine what I had been complaining about before. That night we bought two chickens and cooked them with chapati. I felt so at home back in the kitchen with my mama and in a house full of people, I’ve really missed that since I moved to Garissa. My mama and I sat together just like old times and talked while preparing dinner. We also gave out the gifts which everyone loved. Kevin was really excited about the books and he and Lydia played with the little flipping toys constantly for the rest of the weekend.

Our last day in Loitokitok, while my family was at church, Dad and I walked up to Outward Bound so I could show him where a lot of our training had taken place. It was a gorgeous walk and I even lost my way on the more scenic back roads since I wasn’t used to all the trees and didn’t know where to turn. The forest that used to look like those in Eastern Washington, was now more like a tropical jungle with green covering all the ground. It was amazing to see how extensive the change had been. Even the pool up at Outward Bound, which had been a festering puddle before, was now almost full. After our walk, we met up with a friend of mine and some of the new group of Peace Corps Trainees at his family’s house for a goat party. We sat around talking and attempted to finish the plate of goat meat put in front of us (a whole plate just for Dad and I) and drank mauratina (a fermented alcohol a bit like cider). The goat meat unfortunately was mostly matumbo (intestines) and coming on the heels of my last goat experience in Garissa before we left, was hard for me to look at. I was however pleasantly surprised. Although it looks like a dirty dish rag, it actually didn’t taste bad dipped in salt with a bit of ugali. It was exactly like Nik said when I asked him what it was like. “It’s like trident… you just keep chewing and chewing and chewing…”

That night I cooked dinner for my family; burritos as Kevin’s request. Apparently he has been asking for them non-stop since I left, and although my mama has tried to make them, he claims they aren’t the same. I used the opportunity to teach my dad to make chapattis. We had another wonderful night with my family and before we left my baba gave us each gifts: a head scarf for me, and Masai cloths for Dad and Sam. It was the perfect gift since they had been talking about how much they wanted one. When it came time for us to walk home Lydia and Kevin both cried, and of course my mama did too. I think my brother was more sad to see Sam go than me, but I know he loves me too. After we gave him “Three Cups of Tea” the young-readers addition (BTW he loved it Kristie so thanks for the mix-up), he teased me about having never consumed three cups of tea at one time with them so I wasn’t really family. It was so hard to leave them again knowing it will likely be even longer until I see them the next time. Lydia spend most of the weekend clinging to me which only made me remember how much I miss her hugs and kisses! My baba and his friend escorted us all the way back to our hotel as a send-off.

We left early the next morning on a “bus” (the kind that is a bus back with a truck cab up front). It started raining almost immediately after we left causing rain to drip in through cracks in the windows and meaning a mid-drive attachment of a tarp by the man riding on the roof. These guys are dare-devils really and I couldn’t help but think they are more brave and coordinated than stunt doubles in the movies in America. They climb up and down the ladder on the side of the bus while we are moving along bumpy roads with muddy army boots on their feet – I can only imagine they aren’t great for gripping to the metal of the rungs. When the bus got stuck (inevitable really when its pouring rain and you are driving down a dirt road that more closely resembles a river than a highway), the men on the bus would jump out and work together to get us going again, then after we were safe they would line up to jump back in as we started moving. Watching from my window the whole scene looked like a well organized dance troop performing acts.

After getting caught in the mud a couple times had a fairly uneventful trip back to Nairobi. We grabbed some snacks in the food court at the mall (Dad and I ate from a place called “Hot and Corny”) and killed some time shopping for the things I cant get in Garissa. That night we finally ate at my favorite Italian place and Sam even won money at the hotel casino (naturally). In the morning we ate at Java House (so I could have my last latte for the foreseeable future) and talked about our trip. We also hit up a book store and I left well-supplied for my time back at site. Sadly, it was then time to drop me off in Eastleigh (a place you’ll need to see pictures of to believe) where I caught my bus back home. It was hard saying goodbye but at least I got to talk to them one more time before they left when they called from the airport. Thanks for a great trip guys!! I miss you already!

It’s about 10pm, I’m sitting under my mosquito net (which is fully tucked in thanks to some cunning maneuvering of a rogue mosquito who managed to get in earlier in the night) watching episodes of 24. It’s the 18th hour of season 3 and things are getting really good. I begin to hear a tapping sound on my ceiling, coming from the space above. I figure it must be a bird or worse, maybe a rat… I try to ignore it because there is nothing I can do and being paranoid won’t help anything. The tapping continues so I pause my episode and listen more closely. At this point I notice that the tapping sound is coming from the portion of my ceiling right where there is a section caving in (i.e. right next to the gaping hole above my bed). Awesome. Still, I try to ignore it. That’s when my friend the bat decides to check out my room. Somehow he manages to flap his way through the hole and proceeds to fly/fall haphazardly around my room. He was crashing into walls, my mosquito net, the ceiling… Meanwhile, I’m under my net crouched in a sitting position trying to keep as far away from all sides as possible. The light in my room is off at the moment so I’m tracking the bat’s movements with my flashlight as best I can. “What am I going to do?!” I text my roommate (who was supposed to be in Nairobi this evening but couldn’t go at the last minute – luckily for me) and tell her about the bat and ask her what I should do.

I hear her come into the hallway, but she can’t come into my room because it’s still locked from the inside. She was calling in encouragement and telling me things like it won’t be able to see if I turn my light on and that bats don’t bite. Having her out in the hallway was enough moral support that after psyching myself up, and waiting for the bat to get on the other side of my bed so that I had a clear path to the door, I lifted up my net and ran for my life (making sure to turn my on light on my way out). So now Mercy and I are in the hallway trying to figure out what to do. We open the kitchen door since it’s the only way to get it out but then we’re stuck for a plan. My response, “Why are there no boys around for this stuff?” After a few minutes I decide we just need to arm ourselves and chase it out of my room, down the hall, into the kitchen and out the door. This would be no easy feat considering there are no ceilings in the hallway or kitchen, but really as long as the bat was out of my room I was alright with the outcome. You may be wondering, “arm themselves with what?” Brooms. They aren’t brooms like American brooms that have sticks though, they are just reeds tied together. Mine was maybe a foot and a half long and Mercy’s was maybe 3, but it was the best we could do. Slowly we forced ourselves to conquer the fear and move into my room. Mr. Bat was on my towel hanging near the middle of my room so we worked our way slowly past to angle in for the chase. I took a swing and our friend was airborne once more. This resulted in screaming and ducking and in both Mercy and I collapsing into my net and onto my bed when Mr. Bat turned into a skilled dive bomber. The racket we were making was bound to draw attention and by the time we got the bat out into the hall my neighbor was in his yard near my window asking what was going on and if we were ok. This was really reassuring to me, though I felt a bit silly confessing that our problem was a bat, because I know if something worse ever did happen it wouldn’t go unnoticed.

When the bat flew out of my room Mercy must have thrown a shoe because our friend was now pinned under a flip flop. He looked pretty solidly trapped, but since he was still moving around I wasn’t entirely convinced. We threw a duster over him and decided I needed to carry him outside. Yikes. I dislike carrying small bugs in tissues if I can feel them moving… how am I supposed to deal with a bat? More mental preparation, then go-time. Yes, that’s right, I picked up Mr. Bat, with his head showing so I could tell he was alright, and threw him out of our kitchen door (complete with duster which I’ll just have to retrieve tomorrow) then promptly slammed it shut. And it turns out, Mercy was wrong, that bat had teeth. I’m not so sure it wouldn’t have bitten me.

I guess we can just add this to the growing list of creepy crawly things we have to chase out of or kill in our house every night. Mercy is the queen of scorpion killing by now. My scorpion tally is only up to 2, but she kills them all the time. Rose also had a bat in her room a while back so I guess that’s the pest of choice on our end of the house. Yuck. We’re going to be war-hardened in no time by all this killing and attacking of the enemy.

UPDATE: Bats have infiltrated both mine and Rose’s rooms since I wrote this and we have now also been dealing with rats and mice. There was a lot of screaming and laughter the week we all got back from vacation as we had to battle the things that had taken up residence in our absence. I now go directly for the broom when there is a bat and start swinging away (but they still scare the shit out of me).

Some days are just crazy…

Yesterday started off as a continuation of the bad mood I’ve been in for the past three days (due in parts to my malaria prophylaxis, my lack of anything to occupy my time at work, and not having friends around – it was so nice to see everyone at IST but being back at site now is lonely). Around 8 I got to work and hung around doing nothing aside from trying to convince myself it was going to be a good day (not very successfully). At 9 I left for a meeting that I had arranged the day before yesterday with the District Youth Officer (DYO). I got to his office and sat down at which point the following exchange took place:

ME: My name is Rachel, I’m a Peace Corps volunteer in Garissa working at SIMAHO, another volunteer is also working at NEP Tech and we are both really interested in working with youth, in and especially out of school youth.

DYO: (blank stare)

ME: I was wondering what the best way to access out of school youth and my director advised me to come talk to you. He said you would have a list of youth clubs in the area.

DYO: (silence)

ME: Do you have a list of clubs in Garissa?

DYO: … what groups are you interested in? If you tell me that then we can arrange a meeting with the officers and you can discuss how you might work with them.

ME: I’m not really sure what types of groups there are so I don’t know. What types of clubs are there in Garissa and what do they do?

DYO: (very short explanation and list, then more silence)

ME: Really I am interested in all of the groups, but especially the HIV Awareness groups because I am a health volunteer. (figured I better ask for as little as possible at this point to increase my chances of getting anything)

DYO: (half amused grin and silence)

ME: Could we set up a meeting, you said before that is the way to get in touch with them right?

DYO: I’m busy today…

ME: Anytime that works for you is fine with me since I don’t know how long it will take to contact the group leaders and arrange a meeting. I’m around anytime starting in January so whatever works for you is fine with me.

Ugh… it was like pulling teeth to get anything from this guy. I just don’t understand how this is supposed to work I guess because people just look at me like I’m crazy when I feel like I’m just asking them to do their job. Usually meetings make me feel better, mainly because I feel like I’m actually making progress towards something. Not so much. I came back to work feeling more frustrated than before.

Thankfully the afternoon was much better. After an unsuccessful talk with my supervisor the day before yesterday about using a manual I got at IST for training midwives/traditional birth attendants, I figured I would arrange to talk with another woman I work for who is generally more receptive of my ideas. During the conversation with my supervisor I got the feeling she wasn’t really paying attention so I stopped talking mid sentence… it took her 10 minutes at least to remember we had been talking and then when I told her my idea she just shrugged it off. The conversation yesterday went so much better. Zahra looked at the booklet while listening to my idea and was really excited about it. The project would be a training of the traditional birth attendants in a rural area near here with home-based life saving skills centered around identifying problems in pregnancy, delivery, and after birth with the mother and child. It teaches preparedness, prevention and how to deal with emergency situations. We are meeting next week to discuss it more. If this takes off it will be a big commitment on our part and those involved. It’s a training program that works in a pyramid with 4 lead trainers who train others who train others. It will require funding, planning, assessment, implementation, monitoring, evaluation and most of all time. I am really excited about the project! It has the potential to help so many women and would be a way for me to feel like I’ve helped with something. I’ve been emailing with a woman in the US who has done the project (in Kenya even) and she is helping me with the basic information so that I can start making a plan. I really hope this happens. So, needless to say, after my afternoon meeting I was in a MUCH better mood and once again excited about the prospect of having something to occupy my time.

Also, in addition to this project, Dan and I have been talking about a youth center and all the things we could use it for. One of the nice/sometimes annoying things about Garissa is that when you have an idea most likely, someone has already thought of it. In this case, the EDC is already moving on a youth center run out of the library and thankfully is open to help and input from Dan and I. We would really like to run seminars/forums/activities out of it relating to health, environment, art, sports, income-generation… etc. I am really excited about all the opportunities that would come out of this center, which is supposed to open in February, so I hope that everything continues as planned and that we can really have an active role in its structure. One thing I have realized about Garissa is that even though there are a million NGOs doing health work or community work, and a million projects going on, people don’t really like to share their projects. What I mean is that if someone is doing a project that I’m really interested in, and I volunteer to help them in any way they might need, they will not be interested in the extra help. People are generally protective of any work they are doing and maybe don’t want to share the credit or something… it’s very frustrating for a health volunteer to be surrounded by great projects she can’t work on. But, this is why I’m excited to start my own projects hopefully.

Once I got home I had a phone date with Lizzie, my woman-love, (if boys can have bro-mances, we figure women can have woman-loves). It was so nice just having a friend to talk to. Then I watched a seriously amazing lightning storm out my window. The sky flashed almost every second for over an hour! It was strange to watch because there was almost no thunder and it wasn’t raining, but the sky was lighting up like the fourth of July. Every so often it wouldn’t just be the clouds lighting up either, there would be a clear streak of lightning all across the sky!! I sat on my bed in the dark (under my mosquito net) watching it for at least an hour. My roommates thought I was crazy since one hates lightning and the other couldn’t have cared less. Eventually it moved to the back of our house and I stood on the hill watching it (the most perfect panoramic view of the western sky). If it wasn’t for my fear of scorpions and my growing annoyance with mosquitoes I might have stayed out there forever watching the sky light up. It was truly a magnificent thing to watch.

SIDE NOTE: At work I let one of my coworkers sons use paint on my computer (with the finger pad mouse) while sitting on my lap. I doubt he has ever used a computer before so I was trying to teach him how to control the paint feature and change the color… etc. What I didn’t notice was how hard he was pushing on the mouse pad. Unfortunately, there is a pressure limit or something because now it is not working. Luckily there is an extra mouse at work so I’ll just have to use that and get my dad to bring my mouse when he comes. I don’t know why I’m not more upset about this… It must be a Kenyan thing.

UPDATE: it is now working again... thank god.

Recently, I have been experimenting with baking using a jiko oven. A jiko oven is basically a big pot with sand in the bottom with a smaller pot inside sitting on top of a charcoal cooking stove (jiko) and then a plate covering it with hot coals on top. Luckily Garissa is, as a friend put it, one big beach just without an ocean, so we can get the sand out of our yard (which isn’t so bad if you just ignore the fact that goats wander in and out and poop in our yard all the time… and you clean the pot afterwards obviously - don’t worry, it doesn’t ever get near the food). The other funny thing about baking in Kenya is that I don’t have any measuring cups or spoons so I just guesstimate. I’ve always felt like more of a true chef that way anyway so its kind of fun, but does create some challenges. I tried making brownies first, which turned out horribly… this was before I found out about putting the coals on top too so it burned on the bottom and didn’t cook ever on the top. My roommates actually still tasted it and continued to snack off it until it was gone however (guess they were as desperate for a sweet as me). Later that night I tried making bread, with the help of Rose, who showed me the proper construction of a jiko oven. The bread (the kind I always used to make back home - yeast free and super simple) turned out really good J The next night, after having another craving for sweets but not wanting to bother with a jiko oven, I decided to try my hand at one of the fudge recipes in the PC cook book. I didn’t have all of the ingredients for any of the recipes so I just took what I had and tried. It actually turned out well and now my roommates are always asking me what I’m going to bake next. This baking spree was the result of a three-day weekend after which I decided maybe it’s a good thing I don’t get that much time off or I’d be getting fat in no time.

But, after enough times being asked by Sheha what I would be baking I decided to try something else. We struck up the deal that if she got the jiko ready I would handle the rest, since that is the part that keeps my lazy ass from ever attempting to bake anything. Jikos can be hard to light and just generally a pain so this was a good deal. I guesstimated my way through a chocolate cake recipe, adding a bit of my own stuff, and the end result was nothing short of amazing. It was a cake I wouldn’t be embarrassed to claim as my own even if it had come from a real oven in America. I’m looking forward to making that one again.

I’m so happy, and I’ll tell you why…

1) I moved into my new room. It has two windows so it’s brighter during the day and cooler at night. I even have a breeze most nights and sometimes get cold enough to put on my sheet and a blanket!! Woot woot! Plus, this room actually feels like a room and I feel at home in my house now more than before. It has a place like a closet and an actual ceiling instead of just beams and a corrugated tin roof. It’s amazing how big a difference being in a new room is making.

2) It was stormy when I got home last night. Not rainy, but windy with dark clouds and not hot for once. I put on leggings (first time in months I’ve been able to wear anything close to pants without sweating all excess water from my body). Then as I was reading, it got cool enough for me to put a hoodie on. Not cold, but not too hot for once and let me tell you, you never appreciate the fine comforts of life like leggings and a hoodie until you can’t ever wear them. It was the most wonderful feeling: being cool and wearing a sweatshirt.

First of all, if you read the title as “the doodoos have come” you would be right. Ndudu is the word for insect and come they have. It all started last Thursday night… I got home from work around 4:30 and had just enough time to shower and be back safely inside when the sky opened up. It had been cloudy on and off all day but dark clouds had been moving in from the south east all day and were now on top of Garissa. What started out as a decent rain, the first I’ve ever seen in Garissa, turned into a torrential downpour equal to the power of the storm that came through Seattle a couple years ago turning all streets into rivers. One of my roommates was already gone for the weekend and the other was still at work so I was home alone to enjoy the festivities of a awesomely powerful storm. Naturally my first reaction was to go to the window and watch the magic, but I soon realized this wasn’t really a good option (at least not in my room, or my old room). Standing at the window I quickly discovered I was getting wet. The thing about the windows in my house is that they have no actual glass. They are simply netting to keep mosquitoes out and metal bars running horizontally every 6 inches or so. As much as I wanted to I wasn’t going to be able to watch the storm. The rain coming in my window concerned me a little, but I figured it wasn’t worth dealing with until the pounding had stopped, or at least the wind that was brining all the rain into my window.

Since there was no power I decided to get to cooking in my already dim kitchen before no light was left at all, and besides, I could watch the storm better out the kitchen window because it was sheltered from the wind and no rain was coming through it. As a bonus the tin roof in the kitchen doesn’t have a second ceiling like my new bedroom making the sound of pounding rain insanely cool. Shortly into my cooking endeavor I noticed that rain was coming inside the kitchen under the door leading outside. Slowly but surely the puddle was growing in size and venturing deeper into the room. It was about this time that I started wondering what was going on back in my room. I quickly ran in and pulled back the mats covering my floor to discover a massive puddle getting larger by the minute and also discovered that the side of my bed nearest my second window was becoming damp. I pulled the mats out of my room, ditching them in my old bedroom which also had a quickly growing puddle on the floor but at least nothing in its path it could destroy. I did my best to mop up the puddle (maybe indoor swimming pool is a better description?) using my super-absorbent towel but wasn’t getting much accomplished. I threw in the towel, quite literally, after I realized I was fighting a losing battle and worked on making sure none of my things were in the danger zone (read: anywhere on my floor). Curtains have no beneficial effect whatsoever when there is wind and rain, just so you know. One nice perk of homes in Kenya though is that they are made of concrete and therefore the floors are indestructible (at least by water or other liquids) so the fear of damage due to flooding is drastically lower than it would be in a house in America.

I went back to the kitchen and continued cooking by lantern light. The puddle continued to make its way further into the kitchen until at some point I ended up standing in it as I cooked. As the first deafening boom sounded I began to ponder my current situation: cooking while standing in a growing puddle coming from outside, in a house with a leaking roof, the roof being made of metal, in a thunder and lightning storm… my conclusion being, “Is this safe?!” Since I had no one to ask and no phone battery left and no electricity to charge it with I continued cooking. By the time I finished the rain had let up a little but the wind was almost gone so the rain had stopped coming into my room/indoor pool. I mopped it all up and spent the rest of the night listening to the rain on my roof and the sound of thunder in the distance.

By morning everything in my yard had changed: the slope of the hill behind our house, the slant of the front yard, the shape of the ground by our gate, the amount of rocks and pipe exposed. The paths I normally take to work were liked dried up creek beds and at least a foot or two deeper than the previous day. Trash and debris were strewn about all the streets in town from flooding of the gutters lining the roads and all side roads were drowned in massive puddles. We got a ride in a truck out into a part of town I hadn’t been to before to go to a community health day festival and had to drive through 3 foot deep puddles. It was amazing to see the difference to our town in one day, one night really. The market was a mess (not surprising considering its all built on dirt). Much of the town reminded me of the pictures in Six Months in Sudan after the rains came there. And yes, of course, there were ndudus a plenty. The air was swarming with winged insects that I don’t know the name of. I must have seen them on a show once though, maybe about Africa, because I knew that people catch and eat them as a good source of protein. As we were sitting in the truck waiting to pick someone up one of my bosses said “the ndudus have come” (which of course made me giggle), and right she was. As the day progressed more dark clouds moved in and by 4 it was pouring again. I walked a short way home in the rain (because the taxi wouldn’t go onto my puddle-ridden street) and had to wade my way through the streams that used to be the paths home. I stopped at a neighborhood duka to buy some milk so that I could make hot chocolate because even if it wasn’t exactly cold, it just felt right. That night I realized that more than just the winged insects had arrived. Along with the roads and paths in town the rain had also washed away my peace. Outside my window there were now not just goats and donkeys and children making noise, but also crickets and bats and frogs and the low-level electricity-like hum of some type of bug and all other manner of racket-making insect; my very own personal cacophonic serenade. The cockroach family in my choo, previously made up of three members with whom I had a good arrangement: they crawl away when I enter either down the choo or out the back, is now made up of a regular 6-10 on any given day who crawl wherever they feel like it – including across my feet while I’m squatting. There are so many more lizards around now too, maybe their burrows have flooded or maybe they’ve just come out to eat all the bugs. I saw one almost a foot long the other day with a red head and a teal-blue tail.

The other effects of the rains are less welcome than even the bugs. The water we get from the tap in our yard, normally clear and consistently-running, is now cloudy and sporadic. Some days we don’t get water at all for a whole evening (not at all fun when you get home sweaty after dealing with the hot temperatures and now humidity of Garissa). On the days we do have water it is cloudy, sometimes just barely – the new good days – but more often it’s a brownish red that looks like either rust or clay and is likely a combination of both. It settles at the bottom of bottles for the most part but makes drinking difficult because the water is still a yellowy-brown color. I’ve been told this will last as long as the rains. Additionally, the road to the coast is now water-logged and unreliable meaning my plan to go to Mombasa for Halloween is in jeopardy. As long as the rains don’t come back with a vengeance (they have been mostly gone for the better part of the last week) I should be able to make it, though now risk being caught in one of the tiny towns between should things get sticky – or more accurately, muddy.

The rains came every night that weekend giving me a much needed break from the wilting temperatures and a feeling of being at home because after all it is October and what could be more perfect than a good storm in October? Thankfully my supervisor, Rumana, who owns the house I live in, hired a fundi immediately to come and put actual glass panes in the windows. A fundi is basically any skilled laborer: carpenter, electrician, tailor… etc. She said she would call and let me know when he was going to be coming over so I could make sure to be home. Saturday I was sitting at home waiting for my friends to come over and cook dinner, and I had left the gate unlocked so they could just let themselves in, while I read. Suddenly I heard the gate, but I knew it was way too early for my friends to be coming over so nervously I snuck a peek out my window (remember, my roommates were not home). There was a man walking into my yard. Holy shit! I freaked out and backed into the most hidden corner of my room while trying to figure out what to do. I tried to calm myself down by telling myself no one could get into the house anyway since the doors are locked but quickly remembered the back door was not locked just pushed shut. Crap. I would have to make it there before the mystery man did, but first I would have to arm myself. The only weapon-like thing in my room was a giant wooden mixing spoon (mwiko in Swahili) so I grabbed it and slowly moved into the hallway. Before passing the next room I glanced in and through the window and saw the man looking back at me through the mosquito screen. I raised my mwiko (feeling a bit ridiculous, but also really glad he was still towards the front of the house so I could beat him to the back door and get it locked). He must have seen how freaked out I was because he immediately began explaining that he was just a fundi sent by Rumana to fix our window situation. Thank god. His name turned out to be Frederick, a really nice guy who took a few seconds to measure the windows before leaving to buy the supplies.

He came back Monday morning before I left for work to begin installing our new windows. I left him working in my house, after being promised by Rumana that he was a trustworthy guy and wouldn’t take anything. I didn’t really need the reassurance, I could already tell he was a nice, decent guy and had no problem leaving him to his work. I returned from work the following night and was standing by my gate when I met up with a neighbor of mine (Rumana’s sister’s husband who lives next door). He began telling me a story about earlier that day when he passed my house and heard odd noises coming from inside. He is a protective neighbor and decided to investigate. He grabbed the biggest, strongest stick he could find and slowly creeped his way through my yard until reaching the house. He could hear something going on inside and new all of us girls would be at work at that time so he naturally thought someone was breaking in. He crept up to the window and peeked in. He saw Frederick and Frederick saw him and once again had to explain to a weapon-wielding stranger exactly what he was up to. Poor Frederick the fundi… just trying to do an honest day’s work and getting nothing but grief. I’ll be surprised if he’s ever willing to come back to this house again after all the harassment he suffered. Haha It is, however, reassuring to know that I have neighbors on the lookout for me. And it’s also nice to have windows in my windows! They aren’t traditional window panes (which I’m thankful for because those wouldn’t allow for a breeze). They are 6-inch window slits that work like blinds that can be tilted upwards if you want them closed or downwards if you want them open. They don’t close completely but they should keep most of the water out in case of another storm so I don’t end up with another swimming pool.

Goats are much better looking than sheep… I never realized how ugly sheep are until being in Kenya, and specifically Garissa. I’m not sure if it’s a different kind of sheep or maybe I just never paid attention before, but they have this ugly lump of fat that hangs under their weird-looking tail. I cant help but think of the part in Cinderella where the women are at the ball and the backs of their dresses swish back and forth from the buttress when they walk. That is what sheep look like except its just gross.Sheep sleep in the middle of the road if there is shade there and wont move for anything.

Another thing about animals: they are all so thin here, with the exception of goats, sheep and donkeys. I have all but forgotten what a cow looks like when every one of its ribs and tail bones is not showing, and sadly I’m starting not to think anything of it. Although, there are still times I see an animal walking by (since they pretty much all just roam free through town) and I want to cry because it is so emaciated that you are left wondering how it is even still moving around. The camels are like that often too, with droopy humps and clearly visible rib cages. Its very sad.When you buy rice or beans you have to pick through it first, even if you buy it in a bag at the store, because otherwise you will break your tooth on a rock.At my work when people talk they use English, Swahili and Somali and I’m not saying sometimes one and sometimes the other… they use all three in one conversations and just skip in and out of each as the need arises. It boggles my mind.On the way to outreach, the first time I went, it was sprinkling, and when I say sprinkling I mean maybe one drop per 3 sq ft of earth per minute. We passed through an areas with a few houses and I saw a girl out in her yard with hands spread wide and head facing the sky twirling in a circle and then a few yards later I saw another girl doing the same thing. It took me a while to realize that they were playing in the rain… that was probably the most rain they had seen in months. And it has only rained maybe 3 more times since then, only once enough to make the ground entirely wet and even that dried within a couple hours.

I saw a small child at one of our outreaches that had obvious downs syndrome. She looked like she might be 3 years old… I later found out she was 6. In general, I find it really difficult to guess how old kids are. Many times I’m sure a kid is under 2 who turns out to be 3 or 4... The shelter we do outreach at in one of our locations was built by the community and is my favorite by far. Its made of sticks entirely and some reed thatching them together. Its my favorite not only because it looks beautiful, but because it manages to shade you from the sun and also allow for a breeze to come through (a nice breeze cant be overrated).

I know what it is like to be an animal at the zoo. At our last outreach, in a place where I guess few mzungus go, as the children came out of school in the afternoon they crowded around the mat where I was conducting interviews with women about FGM. They kept their distance, I think out of fear, and just stared speaking with each other in Somali (so I had no idea what they were saying). The girl I was with translated some for me like “look at her skin, its so white”. At one point the crowd was at least 20 or more just standing and staring, but unwilling to come any closer. Eventually they were chased off by a guy who was helping us who decided it was rude for them to stare.At the same site, the same day, we were interviewing a young girl (12 years old) about her experiences with FGM. In the Somali community (90% of the people here are Somalis), pretty much every woman has undergone FGM, most by the age of 12 at the latest. As we were interviewing the girl another came up and stood at a distance crying and appeared to be pleading with the girl. I asked what was going on and my translator told me, “she is crying because she thinks you are going to slaughter her sister”. The girl on the mat was her sister and I guess I looked as if my intentions were sinister. That was pretty much the most shocking thing I have heard yet.Earlier that same morning, an older woman came over to our mat yelling something in Somali. I had no idea what she was saying and we kept up our interviewing as best we could until the lady was escorted away. I then asked what she had been saying. She was yelling for all the woman not to take part in our interview and not answer the questions because they are bad. It definitely was an interesting day…Somali men wear skirts. They are called kikois and everyone wears them, maybe not every day, but they all do it. Its basically a sarong for men and then they will pair it with a button down shirt for a formal occasion or maybe with a t-shirt informally. I wish it were ok for me to wear one all the time. Just this past week, I walked through town in the morning and when I got to work I was really hot. I sat down in the office and took off my scarf so that I could cool off faster and then put it back on when I stopped sweating. While I was sitting there reading a report on FGM, without my scarf still, a woman came in talking to one of my coworkers. I thought it looked like she was gesturing at me but I couldn’t tell and when I tried to meet her eyes and smile she didn’t seem interested so I just assumed she wasn’t there to talk to me. Later in the day I found out that she hadn’t been there to talk to me, but more to yell at me. She was trying desperately to find someone in the office who would translate from Somali for her so that she could yell at me. What had I done to make her so mad? Well, apparently she sees me around town and knows I work at SIMAHO and that morning she had seen me walking to work. She was not pleased with the length of my skirt (which was mid calf length by the way) and came to yell at me to dress like a Somali with ankle length skirts. I think she just got more mad when she found me temporarily without my head scarf. Very strange situation, but its good to know that my coworkers will stick up for me like they did.There are many cemeteries on the outskirts of my town. At first I didn’t know what they were, I thought they were just fields that had been depleted of trees. Eventually, I noticed that each mound of dirt had a stick coming out of the top towards one end and realized that they must be cemeteries. I wonder if people still know who is buried under each mound?

There are storks in my town… probably thousands of them. It took me a long time to figure out what these strange-looking, tall birds were, but then one day it just clicked. They are storks. Although, they look more likely to swoop down and steal a child than deliver one.I used to buy my vegetables from the same woman in the market each time I went and eventually she asked me why I always buy so little of each thing. I only ever by a quarter of a pound of anything or else it will go bad before I can use it since things only keep for a couple days at most. The entire conversation was in Swahili. I told her, “because I cook for myself only” to which she replied “where are the visitors?”. I could only laugh and say “I don’t know” because saying “I don’t have any friends” just sounded sad. Haha. Maybe some day I’ll have a reason to buy more J I was buying mangos in the market the other day and a boy came running up to me with his hand out shouting “mzungu! Mzungu!” and the biggest smile on his face. I shook his hand and asked how he was. He ran away and then came right back to shake my hand again. The whole time I stood there buying my mangos he kept running up and grabbing my hand or fist bumping with me. His name was Julius and he is the cutest child in all of Garissa, I’m convinced. I had to stifle an urge to snatch him from the market right then and there. I hope I see him again his little smile made my whole day.Doing yoga and pilates in my room in the morning on the weekends I’m sure is the same as doing hot yoga back in America. I’m already sweating when I start, and sweating profusely by the time I finish… if only I could have cold water to shower in when I stopped I wouldn’t mind so much.The water straight from the ground outside my house, of late, is so warm. I come home from a long walk, sweaty and tired and hoping for a refreshing shower, but the water that comes from the tap is so warm. We’re talking, warm even to my hands that are sweaty and have been in 100 degree heat for an hour. The kind of water that would make for a great shower in the middle of winter back in Seattle. Water so warm that if I were baking I might be concerned that it would kill the yeast of my bread. Sometimes after running it for awhile, filling up other buckets, it becomes less hot, but some days it just keeps flowing like its coming straight from a hot water heater. I will never have to heat water using my solar shower at least… maybe someone could make one that cools water down?The face covering cloth that the Somali women wear, in addition to their head scarves, the one that covers all but their eyes, is called a Ninja. Seriously. Apparently its because of the similarity to the masks of ninjas… I didn’t believe it at first, but its true.There is a dance club in Garissa!! I found this out only last night and it was actually kind of fun. One of my roommates and I went, first to a bar called Town Club, and then to the club called Locus. I was shocked. Also, there is a big difference between dancing at clubs in Kenya an America. In Kenya, it’s the boys who are out on the floor first dancing with each other. Its very common and not at all strange for men to be dancing together or even to come pull a friend of theirs out of their seat to dance.

Ramadan (the month-long Muslim holiday) had just recently ended and I’m glad for it because my favorite hoteli in town is now open again and I can once more enjoy the best chapati in Garissa. Also, this marks the end of the early morning wake-up call from the mosque at 3am which means I get a much more peaceful night of sleep. I only fasted for three of the days this year, mostly because it started right after I had gotten into town and I thought it would be a shock to my system. I was curious though so for the three days between my trips to Malindi I fasted. My coworkers had kept asking me if I was going to fast so I decided to give it a try, although because I’m new to the Garissa climate I decided not to give up water (that just seemed a bit dangerous). So, I got up at 4:30 and made breakfast so that I could be done eating by sunrise around 5 and then didn’t eat again until the call to prayer at sunset (6:30ish) at night. It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be really. The second day of my fasting one of my coworkers and I talked about how I was fasting and how it was going and I told him it was fine. Then a little later he saw my water bottle and when he found out it was mine he told me that if I’m going to drink water I might as well not fast at all. Technically, you arent even allowed to swallow your own spit during Ramadan let alone drink anything. I told him that it would be dangerous for me to give up water considering I would get so dehydrated and might pass out (I drink 2-3 liters of water each day). I also made the point that since I’m not Muslim I might as well not be fasting either, but that didn’t seem to change his mind. So, I told him “fine, tomorrow I’ll fast kabisa (completely), but if I pass out its on you”. So the next day I made a point of telling him I was fasting kabisa and to that he responded “What?! You haven’t been here long enough, you arent used to the weather yet. You might pass out!” I couldn’t do anything really other than laugh it off, but really? Come on.

I’ll start by saying, this post is LONG overdue and I have been procrastinating (odd thing for me to do, right?) but here it is…

I finally had a chance to get out of site… and it was wonderful! For weeks I had been hearing about everyone else’s great weekends meeting up with other people from our training group while I was stuck in the middle of nowhere about a million miles away from anyone. So I convinced my supervisor that since I had been working weekends, she should let me have a Friday and Monday off so that I could use my out of community days (I need a day to travel on either end and I wanted to make the trip worth it). So I bought my bus ticket to Malindi on Thursday and was out of Garissa at dawn the next day. I decided that catching the bus at the bridge would be best since its closer to me and I wouldn’t have to leave as early. I had planned to walk and swear at one point someone assured me it would be fine to walk at 5 since its Ramadan and people would therefore be awake and moving around… not so much. I left my place at 5 and started walking towards the bridge bags and flashlight in hand. I saw two people the other time and am just thankful that it was pretty much a full moon so at least it wasn’t pitch black out. It was taking me longer than I thought it would to walk since I was weighed down by my bags so I was trying to speed walk towards the end of my road. I started hearing wild dogs fighting and was almost too scared to walk but since I was running late I had to keep moving. The entire time I was just thinking of what my dad would say if he could see me walking alone in the pre-dawn darkness along a deserted road, and he would be right. It was crazy. Luckily the dogs just ran along the other side of the road for awhile and disappeared (thank god). As I was getting to the end of my road I saw a bus coming and had to run to catch it. Turns out it wasn’t my bus and I got to the bridge with a few minutes to spare so I chatted with the police officers at the checkpoint until my bus came (sweating of course because even at this god awful time in the morning it still isn’t cold enough for even a sweater). I got on and sat in my seat by the window and after the guard came on to check everyone’s ID we were on our way. It all of a sudden hit me on our way out of town, as the sun was coming up over the desert, that this was my first solo journey in Africa… that was a really good feeling. And it went a long way towards calming my nerves from walking in the dark with dogs and no one around and almost missing my bus. At least my nerves were good until we hit the part of the paved road that has more pot holes than pavement and the bus decided to play leap-frog with the other buses headed to Malindi… this involved speeding up and getting partially off the road to go around the one in front, causing the bus to make an uncomfortably sharp angle to the ground, and then waiting to be passed by the same bus in 5 or 10 minutes. I decided at this point (gripping the seat in front of me so strongly that my knuckles were white) that I didn’t want a window seat next time. I got over that feeling at some point thanks to a combination of my excitement to be seeing friends and being out of site, and my resolution that whatever was going to happen would happen whether or not I was petrified by fear and gripping the seat for my life.

By the time I got to Malindi I was so happy to get off the bus. I had totally forgotten how dirty and gross a 7hr bus ride can make a person feel (no stops to pee, sweaty the whole time, crowded… ugh). The first thing I did was find my friends and eat at a pizza place: real food and CHEESE!!! I changed into my tourist clothes in the bathroom at the restaurant because I couldn’t wait to feel like myself again (short shorts and a tank top… I felt a bit like a prostitute, but the freedom was nice). The second was head to the beach, though we only spent a few minutes standing on the pier. It was amazing seeing the Indian Ocean. More than that, I cant explain how wonderful it was to see my friends again and hear about their sites and organizations.

We spent the first night at another volunteer’s house in Malindi (some people have all the luck). There were 6 of us sleeping on her floor and one person in her bed! We literally took up all the available space. The following day we headed to a small town close by called Watamu (funny cause its also the name of a bean dish here, so we just call it beans now) to a hotel. First, we were all hungry so we scoped out a gellato place that served focaccia bread with mozzarella and tomato (saving the fancier pizza place for dinner). When we had almost finished our breakfast/lunch it started pouring rain so we had gelatto and huddle inside the small shop until the rain passed. By the time we made it through town - we got a little lost a few times but eventually were led to the correct path by some locals - the sun was out and the beach was perfect. Its not very crowded in the cove where we were and the tide was way out so we could walk out to the big rock formations. The local beach boys and hawkers were out and offered to show us the way out to the big rocks for a small price. Mind you, we could see very clearly other people going to the rocks and the path in no way needed to be pointed out. After telling this guy again and again and again that we’d rather just go on our own he finally got the point and left us alone. We set up our spot near one of the big rocks that was currently sandy and went to play in the surf. Katie stayed behind first to watch our things (you never know who is going to come along on these beaches). Next time I looked there were three people spreading out something around her so I went back in. By the time I got there it was a full-blown mini market with clothes and trinkets and wooden carvings… it took us awhile to convince them that we were not tourists and had no intention of buying anything at that time. We spent the rest of the day at an amazing beach (I wish I could put up pictures). I swam in the Indian Ocean and didn’t even mind a bit of seaweed and the occasional fish (I know you’re impressed by my courageousness). Sand at these beaches is so amazing, its white and fine but somehow perfect for sand castles even when mostly dry. We didn’t make one though and I really wish we had.

So, the trip was pretty much magical. I was flying high when I boarded the bus on Monday morning (even though it was leaving at 7:30 and I had been hoping to spend a few relaxing hours at the beach before heading home). That feeling didn’t last very long. Unfortunately the bus was immediately crowded and this time I wasn’t lucky enough to have a window seat so I was on the isle at the end of a three seat row. When the bus left Malindi pretty much all the seats were full, but before long even the isle was starting to fill up and then not much longer before it started to fill past the point you might think possible. People were standing two deep all the way back to the rear of the bus causing most people to be leaning over the actual seats. For example, in my row there was a woman with a baby tied to her front in the entirety of the space above my seat. I had exactly the space required for my body to fill the seat and the air above me was hers. Every so often I would wake up being hit in the face with her baby because of the jostling of the bus over all the bumps in the road. She also had a small girl and boy with her. The boy was seated on the lap of the man next to me and the girl ended up in my lap after almost being trampled in the isle. So I spent 4 cramped, sweaty, breeze-free hours of the ride in what I have come to refer to as “my own personal kind of hell”. Eventually the man moved and we shifted over to give the woman a seat so that I was now in the middle. I dozed off, with the sleeping girl on my lap, and awoke to the sound of the ladies on either side of me yelling something in Somali. Before opening my eyes I became aware that something was touching my face and I couldn’t understand why these women were yelling at me and grabbing my face. But then I opened my eyes to find a shoe against my face. A shoe belonging to the man who was crawling over the seats to get to the front of the bus (since the isle was now too crowded for any realistic movement) who apparently found my head and the seat back indistinguishable. I think that was the low point of the ride… but honestly none of it was much better even though thanks to not much sleep over the weekend I was able to doze for a lot of it.

Being back in Garissa the following week was actually really great. I felt much more willing to engage in conversation and things were going well at work. I guess getting away made me realize that other people are struggling at their sites too, and it just gave me some time to mentally recharge so that things didn’t seem as frustrating as before. I was afraid being away would make coming back worse, but it was totally the opposite, making me much more aware of the good aspects of my new home. About mid-week, while reading through a report on FGM and wondering to myself where my glasses were thanks to a headache I was experiencing, I received a text informing me that my glasses had been left in Malindi. What to do… I mentioned it to my supervisor who suggested that I could have Friday off to go and get them if I wanted. Oddly enough, my first thought was not excitement at all, but dread inspired by flashbacks of the return bus ride. Could I do it again? Obviously I could. You don’t look a gift horse in the face, and I wasn’t about to refuse another trip to the happiest place in Kenya. So that Friday I found myself aboard another bus to Malindi (this time I took a taxi to the bus station). The ride down was better than the first and I spent a very enjoyable weekend with a couple friends. It was very low key and relaxing. The highlight of the weekend, and the thing I least expected to find myself doing anywhere let alone Kenya, was eating a hot dog on the sidewalk outside one of the petrol stations in town. It made us so happy though. And we followed it up with delicious gelatto J This time it was even harder for me to leave. Maybe because it was a shorter trip (I had to come back on Sunday) or maybe because I knew I was in for another 9 hours of hell - somehow the bus ride home takes 9 hours while the one there takes only 7... I don’t get it.

Well, in some ways the ride was better, but in some so much worse. I ended up in the isle seat again, but this time the girl at the window sat with her bags next to her so that her legs were in the next seat, and the girl next to me had her legs in my seat, and I was half way in the isle. I asked her to put her bag up (in polite Swahili) and she wouldn’t even when I explained that I couldn’t sit in my seat she only barely moved it. There was a man standing in the isle by my chair at this time who insisted on hovering over me even though there was no one else near him in the isle and he could have chosen to stand anywhere. I fell asleep, thankfully, but when I woke up I became aware that his crotch was on my shoulder… so unnecessary not to mention inappropriate! So I moved my shoulders to the right into the girl next to me (who was partly in my seat) and my legs still were hanging into the isle. It was a miserable position and the idea of this guy being there made me incredibly crabby. I got fed up with his failure to notice that I was actively avoiding touching him and finally, not kindly, asked that he back up and give me some space. He did and thankfully for the rest of the time he was on the bus his crotch at least did not touch my arm, but when he got off the bus he made a point of getting my attention and saying goodbye. The rest of the ride was much better, though painfully hot and claustrophobic due to the overcrowded bus and our seat not having a functioning window. The road was really bumpy and at one point I had fallen asleep only to wake up flying headfirst into the isle knocking into the two men standing nearest me after hitting a bump in the road that was strong enough to cause my butt to entirely come out of the seat. Luckily the men thought it was more fun than a ride at Disney land and we all had a good laugh. Until the bus broke down. We waited about 15 min before the driver had it fixed and we were off again. Two things that made the trip more enjoyable were a) the most beautiful child was sitting in the seat across the hall and she kept smiling at me and b) at some point a man purchased a chicken which was handed to him through the window at one of the many stops (at one point it was found about 5 rows in front of where he had stashed it and had to be handed back to the owner).

I guess what I’ve learned from all this is that I must really like the ocean if I’m willing to put up with the ride from hell to get there and I will NEVER take the trip two weekends in a row again, I don’t think my nerves could handle it.

I wake up between 6:30 and 7 Monday through Saturday (yes, we work on Saturday, although if I have my way I’ll be getting out of that soon). On my weekend, all one day of it, I sleep in… until 8 or 8:30. Booyah! Not quite the sleep schedule I’m used to (those of you who have ever lived with me know how much I like my sleep), but its too hot to sleep any longer than that and animals are up making noise anyway as well as my roommates who seem to like to sweep their bedroom floors at dawn. Currently, its Ramadan so that means one of my roommates is up at 3:30ish every morning making food so that she can eat before dawn and lets just say she is not all that stealthy about it. At 6:30 when my alarm goes off, if I look at my bedside clock which has a temperature gauge, it will tell me its around 80 degrees in my room. I have a sheet over my body at this point only because it feels odd to sleep the whole night without anything covering my body so I usually put it on for comfort in the wee hours of the morning.

The first thing I do in the morning is go out to the bathroom. Its in our front yard and gives me a chance to not feel hot for about 5 seconds on the walk because in the morning there is a nice breeze and its not hot, though I have never felt a chill either and that’s in shorts and a tank top. For breakfast I try to keep chapati on hand and a banana or something, but given my love for chapati it doesn’t always last and I end up having to come up with something else to eat. I try to make enough to last a few days but it really just makes too good a snack and too easy a lunch, so really its not my fault. My backup is usually bread, but since its so hot all the time here I haven’t yet made it through an entire loaf before it molded. My backup to that is coming up with a concoction out of flour, salt, sugar, vanilla, powdered milk, and water… you could call it a pancake but that would be giving it too much credit. Its just a blob that makes me not hungry any more and tastes a bit like a pancake if you really make yourself believe. I then wash my face in a bucket in my room and sometimes also my arms if the night has been particularly hot and I feel sticky (happening more and more often lately). On a normal day I wear a skirt and t-shirt with flip-flops and of course my head scarf, but some days I have the special privelage of wearing the pillow-case dress (or dhira, to be more culturally and linguistically accurate, sounds like “theera“ with the “th“ sound from “the“). Then I brush my teeth outside our kitchen door at the back of the house and leave for work. To get out of our compound I need to unlock the perimeter gate which we have a padlock on.

Some days I walk to work, in which case I leave at 7:30 because it takes about ½ hr to walk but I predict this will happen less often soon because as it is I sweat while walking and its only getting hotter from here. The other days I walk to the main road, maybe 5 min away, and catch a matatu there. Its basically a 15 passenger van driven by one guy and bounced by another. The bouncer’s (or tout as they are called here) job is to attract passengers and handle the door. The basic rule of matatus is that there is always more room. When the real seats fill up they often squeeze more people into a row or add a board across the small isle for someone to sit (not a great seat, trust me). It costs 20 shilings to ride the matatu and the trip takes maybe 5 min. It doesn’t get me all the way to work so I walk another 5ish when I get off before I’m at work. Either method I choose I end up getting to work sweaty and have to spend 10-15 minutes fanning myself (and coming up with reasons to remove temporarily my headscarf because MAN those things hold in heat!) before I’m sufficiently cooled off to the point I’m no longer noticeably sweating.

Now, up until this point, I have been getting to work only to spend 2 or so hours reading a book, an hour or so online checking email and facebook, a bit of time with solitare, and likely a lot of time just looking around and maybe talking with my co-workers. This week I decided enough is enough and its pointless for me to be at work so much not to do anything, especially when the time I spend at work is time I’m not integrating into the community. My time would be much better spent even wandering around town. So I talked with my counterpart and supervisor and it turns out my supervisor was wondering when I would start to work… interesting (and highly frustrating). How did she expect me to just start work when she never told me anything to do? She had mentioned vaguely on the first day that she wanted me to talk to mothers about health but I guess I assumed that she would direct me further when the time came. Well, you know what they say about assuming… I did it. Starting today I have been interviewing some of the mothers that come through to get their view of health in Garissa and what issues need to be addressed (in Swahili for the most part). Tomorrow I will start talking to them about health issues too and why preventing things like malaria and anemia in pregnancy are important. I decided baby steps were good because I’m nervous about jumping in to a lecture to someone I don’t know in a language I’m not fluent in (yet).

After work, these days usually around 3, I stop by the grocery store and/or the market to get the things I need to cook dinner - or have a breakfast on hand. The grocery store has your basic cooking ingredients like flour, dried milk, rice, sugar, salt, spaghetti, oil… etc a selection of “cookies” and other snacks and a variety of other household things like soap, detergent, TP… etc. The store also has cheese and chocolate but I cant really buy the cheese since its not individual servings and I have no fridge, but I do occasionally buy the chocolate. They have an iced tea drink in a fridge at the store that I think will be my substitute for a skinny vanilla latte for my off days when I need a pick-me-up. The chocolate is also kept in a fridge because otherwise it would just be melty. I really like going to the market, now that I know my way better and don’t spend most of the trip wandering around lost. I buy onions, tomatoes, carrots, peas, avocados, mangos, oranges, bananas, cabbage and lentils for the most part. I’ve got fairly simple tastes (that, and I’m a lazy cook). The mamas in the market are really nice for the most part and seem to be excited that I speak the language. I haven’t been overcharged yet that I know of which is always a bonus and something you cant take for granted as a mzungu, “white person”, in town.

As I’m walking through town I get all sorts of greetings. Most often they are genuine “how are you”s but sometimes people get a really odd accent and you can tell they are being facetious which I don’t appreciate and therefore don’t respond to. Many of the men greet me with “how are you madam?” which I occasionally respond to but for the most part don’t, especially after my coworker told me to stay away from boys during Ramadan because they are fasting and become “naughty”. Haha. The kids are really sweet for the most part and are most excited to see me, yelling “mzungu mzungu!!” and pointing me out to their friends or parents. Some kids actually greet me with “habari” which is Swahili and makes me really happy but even if they greet me with “How are you?” I answer in Swahili most of the time. The flip side to that is the kids that are nothing less than completely petrified of me. They hide behind their siblings with a look of sheer terror on their faces and scream if their sibling tries to get them to shake my hand. This poor kid on my way home the other day was looking at me like I had a machete in my hand and was coming after him with it.

After I do what I need to in town, I sometimes walk home, sometimes catch the matatu. Walking home is a much sweatier experience than walking to work, but I figure since I’m showering soon after getting home it doesn’t really matter and the exercise is nice. On my way home from town there are men and women selling fruit from wheelbarrows on the sides of the road. My favorite are the ones selling slices of pineapple for 10 shilings since I’d never be able to eat a whole pineapple on my own its my favorite snack.

When I get home its usually around 5 so I shower right away to make sure I’m done before its dark or the mosquitoes come out in full force. They seem to love our shower and bathrooms (an outhouse-looking building split into one side having a pit latrine-type bathroom and the other is pretty much just a room with a non-functional pipe on the wall). I fill my solar shower from the tap in our yard. The funny thing about the solar shower is I wish it could make the water colder and have never even considered using it for its real purpose, no need when the water coming out of the ground is warm already. If I’m lucky a bucket or two have been filled recently, meaning the water has had a chance to run and it might be a bit colder. Sometimes I get a mild cold sensation when it hits my skin, but it doesn’t last long usually. I hang the solar shower on the pipe (I guess it now has some function) and crouch below it to shower. After I shower I was my underwear because, as I think I’ve mentioned before, that’s what Kenyan’s do; wash their underwear in the shower. After my shower is through I sweep the standing water out of the stall with the broom we keep in there which is made of twigs and head back in the house. I put on as little clothing as possible so as not to sweat too much and negate the showering entirely and braid my hair. I braid my hair every single day because a) what else would I do with it in the absence of hairdryers, hairspray and straighteners, and b) no one sees it anyway since its under a scarf all day… I really should just chop it all off.

Next, I cook dinner. Usually pasta or rice on the weekdays because I’m too lazy to attempt much more. I’ll throw chapati in sometimes since I’ve made it often enough now that I’ve got a nice rhythm down and it goes fast. Cooking pasta is different here and I’ve adopted the Kenyan way. They add only enough water to cook the pasta so that none has to be drained which is necessary if you want to cook the pasta with onions, garlic, or other things that have to saute in oil first.

After dinner I was my dishes in our sink, yes we have a sink, with water from the bucket in my room, no we do not have running water. Then I either read for awhile - currently reading Walden, write in my journal, make a blog entry, or watch episodes of TV shows - currently Grey’s Anatomy. I sit under my mosquito net at all possible times, even though the breeze doesn’t really reach that side of my room so I end up sweating the whole time, because otherwise I get eaten alive by mosquitoes. Before I go to bed I make a last trip out to the bathroom and brush my teeth under the stars. Normally I try to go to sleep around 10, or at least start trying then. It’s very pleasant outside at night (if you ignore the mosquitoes): it’s the perfect temperature, there is a breeze, and its peaceful. Lately, the moon has been so bright there is no need for a flashlight when I go out, my shadow is almost as dark as it is during the day it seems like. Other nights, we can see the Milky Way perfectly. I like to stand out there for awhile and just admire it - and enjoy the fact that for once during the whole day I’m not sweating or too warm. I then go back into my room, crawl under my mosquito net, and lay in bed sweating until I fall asleep. Before I go to bed I like to look at the temperature again… normally somewhere around 86.

I forgot to mention something about the visitor I had last night...

While I was cooking dinner I decided I should fill my water bucket (which I fill about 2-3 times a week and keep on hand for cooking, washing my face, doing dishes...etc). We have a spicket in our yard that we can turn on and leave a bucket under to fill. So last night I had done this, but when I went back to check on it I discovered I had a friend who wanted some too... a monkey was in my yard. We had a stare-down for a bit, me on the porch and him/her about half way between our fence and the water bucket trying to decide what to do. Eventually I made a move and it ran away... lesson learned. Dont leave my water unattended.

This has been a busy couple days for me (finally). Yesterday I met the head of Aphia II for the North Eastern Province. Aphia II is one of our partner organizations who we do a lot of our outreach work with. He is really friendly and turned out to have been at Peace Corps volunteer many years back in Nairobi. Dan (the other PCV here) and I are going to have lunch with him on Saturday to talk more. This guy looks exactly like Ian will when he’s 50, by the way. I was also invited to a party last night to celebrate the launch of Aphia II’s new HIV awareness and prevention campaign. It was about two hours long and consisted mainly of speeches (in Kiswahili or Somali) that I couldn’t understand much of. There were some good presentations of data and a video though that were nice. The event was held at one of the nicest hotels in the city and was a fairly fancy affair (to which I wore my pillow case gown since that’s what my supervisor told me would be appropriate). The two hours was broken up towards the end when they came around with juice and snacks. The snacks were delicious but heavy considering it was 9 by that time… they had a sweet bread that tasted like biscotti, a doughnut, a samosa, some egg roll type thing, and camel meat sausage. That was my second time - that I know of - that I’ve eaten camel meat since being here and its fairly tasty. I imagine some of the samosas I eat have camel meat in them too.

Today was my first chance to do outreach with SIMAHO. We went to a small area called Dololowyne that was a 45min drive outside Garissa town. The area out there is very sandy and there is mainly desert scrub, though there are more trees near the river (its your stereotypical oasis in the desert situation). I saw tons of camels, an impala, some dik diks and another deer-like animal that I’m not sure the name of. It is still really exciting for me when I see camels (and its my goal to ride one some time in my two years if at all possible). The outreach wasn’t exactly what I imagined, but then again, I don’t know what I was expecting. We went to a building that wasn’t being used at the time and set up a mat and two tables on the porch. On the mat sat two nurses who set up all the medications and vitamins around them in an array so that everything was at arms reach (like I set up when I scrapbook for those of you who have seen that). Then at the tables were my supervisor and another nurse to check in patients and prescribe medications. The patients then brought papers to the mat and crowded around until they got the proper medication. My role in all of this was to give all the kids a deforming pill and vitamin A. It went better than I would have thought, in that only a few kids were too frightened of me to come near or let me put something into their mouths. Unfortunately, almost none of the people in the outlying regions speak Kiswahili so my language skills were no help in reassuring the children or trying to talk with the parents. Dan and I are going to be starting Somali lessons soon though so hopefully in a couple months time I’ll at least be able to communicate the rough idea of what I’m doing. Next week I will be doing outreach Monday through Thursday and I’m really looking forward to seeing more of the surrounding areas. It looks like I have always imagined Africa looks, the way I pictured my Peace Corps experience would be and it really drives home for me the fact that I’m living in Africa… like REALLY living here.

And, just for fun, here is a poem a fellow PCV wrote for our host family celebration in Loitokitok. First ,you should understand that I don’t get to eat cheese unless I’m in Nairobi or some other town where its easily accessible… We went two whole months without any cheese during training and now I’ll be going three months without it until IST. They have it in the supermarket here, but its in full blocks and I have no way to store it so it just sits in the fridge at the store and taunts me. In all likelihood, one of these days I’ll probably break down and just eat the whole chunk in one day out of desperation, but until then this poem is so true. Here is the poem (Majie, you’ll appreciate this):

ODE to CHEESE:

Mozzarella, Parmesan, and Cheddar,

If only I had thought to know you better

Than to think you’d be around all the time

Now I curse and toast you with this rhyme

Ricotta and Cottage and Brie

Whatever have I done to thee?

So what if I used you each day?

‘Twas done in the most loving way

I remember before my departure

The Cheddar was sharp as an archer

The Swiss was as holy as matrimony

And reverently covered the macaroni

Pro-va-lone, I should have known

Now I stand alone with narry a calzone

A roasted Sammie with cheese

Makes me weak in the knees

Or a cream cheese christened bagel

With coffee if I could finagle

If Kenya would do as I say so

Beans would be covered in Queso

Chapati accompany Munster

Ugali go get in a dumpster

So I’m begging you please to come back

My Colby my sweet Pepper Jack

Be it shredded or sliced or cubed

Or molten and straight from a tube

I hope you can find your way here

This week, this month, this year

-Nik Schuetz

PS. yes, Marilyn, one of the dresses is mostly pink with flowers :)

August 2nd:

I am now writing to you from my new home, Garissa. First, I guess I should fill you in on the time since I last wrote. Leaving Loitokitok was sad, especially because my mama kept telling me how much she would miss me and how bored she would be when I was gone. I already miss all the kids who would call my name as I went down the road and all the ladies in the market who I knew well enough to say hi to and get a smile in return. I had an impromptu going-away party thrown by the kids from my neighborhood. The last Saturday before we left (I guess, that would be a week from Yesterday, but it feels like much longer ago than that) I went with my friends Lizzie and Mitch to Mitch’s family’s house to watch him slaughter a chicken. He was really excited about doing and I for a long time I was opposed to watching, but eventually reasoned it would be a good thing to say I had done at some point in my life (watch anyway, because I could never do it myself). The process was much quicker than I could have imagined, actually. Afterwards I went home to pack and make mandazi (fried dough pillows that are delicious) because I had been promising Kelvin I would make them again before I left. My mama and baba were at the market, but Lydia and Kelvin (and what seemed to be every kid from the neighborhood) were home though and impatiently awaited a snack of andazi as I was making them. Eventually Lizzie and Mitch came over to have some andazi and hang out, but since all the kids were they came into the living room to join us too. Kelvin put on a music video that was actually just random clips of video from commercials and other weird clips put to music that in no way was related. The kids started all dancing around and playing and it was actually really fun, and very funny.

When my mama came home from the market that night she sent Kelvin and I running (literally sprinting) to the center of town to go get something. On the previous Thursday she had called me after class and asked me to stand on the corner of a certain building in Loitokitok because someone would be coming for me there to measure me. I awkwardly stood on the corner and was eventually summoned by a woman with a baby tied to her back to follow her up the steps inside the building. It had all the makings of a VERY shady transaction: cement building, meeting a total stranger and following them to an unknown destination. I was measured by a woman with a little clothing tailoring place in the end of a hallway and figured my mama must be having a dress made for me, but figured there wasn’t enough time for it to be done before I would have to leave. It was though, and as a result my brother and I sprinted to town in the dark with a flashlight each just in time for us to catch the woman before she went home. The dress was gorgeous too! My mama gave me a bracelet and necklace to wear with it the next day at our host family appreciation celebration. I felt really honored (and beautiful) wearing it the next day. Even the head of our technical training told me that in two years when I am done with the Peace Corps and return to America I will become a model. Haha, I don’t know about that, but it was very flattering. My mama and little sister wore matching outfits that were both amazing and my baba and brother each wore suits. Saying good bye was hard, but it was easier for knowing I would go back and visit, and that we could talk on the phone whenever we wanted to.

That night we had a lot of fun enjoying the freedom that we didn’t have while living with our host families, namely: staying out past dark and drinking more than one beer’s worth of alcohol. Its amazing how much I have come to love all these people who I trained with, or maybe its not considering we have spent the greater part of every day for the last few months together. Unfortunately, we had to leave Loitokitok very early the next morning and the mix of drinking the night before and motion sickness made for a epic journey to Nairobi. About 45 minutes into the trip over really bumpy dirt roads there was puking… on the bus. Then we stopped and there was more puking and sympathy puking… then there was puking out the window after that and another 5 stops worth of puking. All I can say is thank god some parts of the road are actually tarmaced because once we hit those it was smooth sailing. Its really a wonder we ever made it to Nairobi and a bigger wonder still that even after this display we heard many people saying we were one of the best groups of trainees yet J After being in a small town for 2 months Nairobi was like sensory overload. The first night we ate pizza (mmm cheese, how I have missed you so) at a really nice Italian place and had a glass of wine, then went to a coffee shop and had real coffee, and then went to see Harry Potter. It was a magical night, the epitome of sweet, sexy action (but also very spendy). The following night we had Mexican, but the next we decided to stay at the hostel for the free dinner to save some money and relax a bit. We had wine and watched movies and it was the most relaxing thing I have done in a long time.

On Thursday (July 30th) we swore in as Peace Corps Volunteers - that’s right, now I’m legit - and went out to Mexican and a bar called the crooked q to celebrate. I had so much fun hanging out with everyone that it just made leaving the next day (each to our own destination) that much harder. I couldn’t sleep well and was up early enough to see Lizzie leave at 5 and then most everyone else before they rocked out too which was nice even though all the extra time made me a great deal more anxious that I would have otherwise been. It was hard to see everyone leave knowing it was the last time we’d see each other for the 3 months until IST (in-service training) at least for those people who aren’t near enough to visit. Also, now that we’d been exposed to civilized foods like cheese again it was hard to admit we’d be deprived again so soon and back to eating beans and rice on a regular basis. My anxiety also had a lot to do with being so far from everyone else and not even sharing part of the journey with anyone… this was my first time being really alone in this whole Peace Corps journey. I have to keep telling myself that this is what the experience is really all about, not making friends like it has been up to this point. So, with out much nervousness I went with my supervisor and ended up at her relatives house in Nairobi (all alone in the living room with some really awful American movie on TV) while she did a few last minute errands before we boarded the bus. The trip went smoothly enough, and I even got my first glimpses of camels, though I haven’t seen any since arriving here. The ride took about 6 hours and was stifling hot by the time we arrived in Garissa (most likely attributable to my long skirt - the one my mama had made for me because it was my only one long enough - and the sweater I had to wear because apparently it is not appropriate for my arms to show). Before stepping off the bus in Garissa I donned my newest accessory, a head scarf. My supervisor is taking me shopping one of these days to find some more appropriate things to wear… I’m not entirely sure all my clothes are off limits, but time will tell.

Currently, I am sitting in a hotel room in Garissa because there was not planned house for me upon my arrival. I use the term “hotel” very loosely in this sense for what is offered in my lodging is much less than I would expect from the worst hotel I might ever consider staying at. At first it looked alright, but upon trying to use the sink in the bathroom I realized that the sink bowl was not actually connected to the pipe below and that when the water ran it dripped mostly onto the floor. I have since tried to rig it with a piece of my broken nalgene (for lack of any other sort of tie) but its generally not effective. The toilet in the bathroom is not as nice as having a choo considering there is no seat and the “hotel” does not provide even toilet paper (I had to use notebook paper for the first day and a half of my being here). There is a shower, which was very exciting to me until I realized that the spout on the bottom is in no way connected to the spout at the top and I can therefore deduce that it is only there for show (though there are rust stains that suggest it must have been functional at some point in the past). As for the beds… they are comfortable except for the itchy bites I find all over my arms in the morning… I’ve never seen the culprit but I’m willing to bet it’s a bed bug. I sprayed deet bug spray on the mattress today and so hopefully tomorrow I wont be totally covered with bites. I am hot and sweating and finding ways to occupy myself that don’t depend on electricity (as the lights are coming in and out on generator power). I was just informed also that I shouldn’t use my fan while the generator is working… it was my only saving grace so I desperately hope the power comes back on soon. At the very least, before I have to try and sleep. The heat on its own wouldn’t seem so bad maybe were it not for having to sleep under the mosquito net which effectively prevents any breeze from hitting my skin (more effectively than it prevents mosquitoes I imagine, given the holes in it). I cant wait to have my own place and set it up with my own bed and mosquito net.

What I thought was a description of my house on the information sheet we got with our site assignments a few weeks ago, was simply a description of what they would look for in suitable housing. So here I am, without a home for now at least. Today my supervisor and I were supposed to go look at a house that I would have a room in and share with 3 girls who recently moved her from Nyanza who work with a partner organization to mine. However, they weren’t home or something happened because that plan never materialized and I am left for another night in this hotel. Sarah stopped by tonight to tell me that tomorrow I might get to move into a place of my own that is near (maybe attached to) the hotel I am currently in. Happily, Sarah said it is bigger than the place we looked at yesterday which I could not be more thankful for. The proposed apartment made even this hotel seem like a relaxing, comforting alternative. I actually have a friend with me in the hotel right now, a small lizard on my wall whose skin appears to be see-through… maybe it’s a chameleon?

I took a walk today and ate dinner by myself at a restaurant in a nearby hotel. It feels lonely not having other volunteers around and not having any friends yet. There is not even the friendly chant of kids yelling “how are you” to bring some familiarity to my routine. I’m not sure why they don’t ask considering every kid in Loitokitok would starting yelling it at the distant site of our shimmering skin… I did get a stick thrown at me today by a group of kids, but thankfully and adult near told them not to throw things (it was nice to have someone on my side, especially so unexpectedly). A short time after that I was aware of someone walking near me and turned to find a guy walking close, I said “habari” Kiswahili for “how are you” and he grabbed my ass and ran away. I was so flustered that I couldn’t even think of what to say so I just made a disgusted noise and walked away (he was already half way down the road running away). I now have a response prepared in case anything happens again, but it was really just a disappointing experience. Its hard to walk with your head up after that, but you just have to assume that the majority of people around you are good and that there are bound to be bad eggs everywhere… If I didn’t believe that I probably wouldn’t be here right now. The experience hasn’t made me feel any different about the town in general. I guess with time this place will start to feel more welcoming and like home, it took a while in Loitokitok too. Though here I have the added awkwardness of wearing a head scarf and not with confidence. I cant figure out if its respectful or not… my supervisor said it is a must and that’s enough for me now, but I still wonder what people think of me. I go to work tomorrow and will continue to learn more about my role here so that will help bring some kind of anchor to my life until I can work out making friends. For now, I’m just thankful for the external hard drive B gave me because otherwise I would be so painfully bored.

August 12th:

I’ve been here for almost 2 weeks now, and am thankfully living in a house now. It is the one with three other girls and I’m glad to have the company actually. I feel more relaxed at night when otherwise I might be jumpy at any sound and its nice to have someone to talk with in the mornings and at night. This is a good set up for me to have while figuring out my place in the community and an easy way to have some quick friends.

Work is, well, not work. I go in and sit and try to look like I’m at least thinking about something important because there is nothing for me to do. My first days they had me just sit and watch what happened so I did that and tried my best to figure out the systems for each department. The office has a maternity ward, immunization room, laboratory section, exam room, prenatal care room and two different VCTs. My first day felt a bit like my first time at the Flynn center when I didn’t know anyone and was just desperately trying to figure out how everything worked and who did what tasks, except this was not as simple because the rules aren’t as rigid as health centers in the US. The second day however, was spent getting ready for the Agriculture Show in town (a big chance for our organization to show off). The show is a bit like the Puyallup Fair in that there are different booths that get judged on things like presentation, theme interpretation… etc. and they have animal judging, and entertainment and food. Its smaller, but the idea is the same. I sat with my counterpart, Hawa, for the majority of Wednesday helping to set up and really just making sure no one stole any of our stuff. We had a lot of time to talk and we get along really well. She is about my age and is working as a nurse with pregnant women at SIMAHO. She is fun and sassy, and occasionally swears which we had been told Kenyans do not do (but I fully appreciate). We were at the fair from Wednesday through Sunday and SIMAHO won three prizes: 2 first place trophys (best overall booth for non-governmental organization, and best overall booth for small community-based or non-governmental organization) and 1 second place for theme interpretation (which was a big deal because we were only second to agriculture and everyone loved to point out that of course they would win, its their show, so really the second place was as good as first). The fair was a good way for me to get to know the people I’ll be working with and served the added bonus of allowing me to be introduced to a lot of Garissa’s influential people as they came by our stand (like the chief - one of them, the Member of Parliament for the region, people from Kenya Red Cross - who I hope to partner with, and other people who will be good contacts as I start to find my place). Hawa and I also donated blood to the Kenya Red Cross which was totally worth it, not only because of how badly blood is needed, but because they gave us free Fantas for doing it. Score! Kenya is turning me into a soda adict with its hot temperatures and cold refreshing sodas… mmm. I never realized how much I took for granted in the US like being able to put ice into water on a hot day.

Anyway, after this weekend (which largely consisted of a crazy rush to get me settled in my new house) I am feeling better about living here. Its still hard to go out and feel completely out of place and work isn’t much better for the time being, but I’m gradually getting there. I don’t think that my supervisor had anything specific in mind for me to do once I started and I don’t know if that’s because she thought maybe I would come in and have my own agenda right away or if she thought that I could do things that I cant (like VCT - voluntary counseling and testing for HIV - and give immunizations), but work is a slow grind right now. I had my most productive day today so far: in the morning I got a PO Box, then came to work and spent about 2 hours making a list of things I’d like to do as part of my community needs assessment and talked to Hawa to get feedback, then practiced Swahili in my workbook until 3 and then just sat around and stared off into space until 5. It feels good to be making progress, even if its only theoretical at this point. Tomorrow I am going to the Bureau of Statistics to start gathering some basic data about Garissa for the community needs assessment (we have to turn in a 5-10 page report in 3 months when we go to IST). it’s a relief to start getting some of my perspective back. When I first arrived it was so overwhelming being in a new environment that it was hard for me to remember why I had come so far away from home and to feel that excitement that I felt I should be. Its trickling back now though and it’s a huge relief. Its going to be slow going at first, trying to make my way into the community, meet the right people, do the necessary first steps, but at least I’m moving in some direction. I hate being idle… one week was enough for me.

Note on the temperature: I have a thermometer built into my clock that has not gone below 80 in my room since I’ve been here. Also, it has never gone above 86 either so I guess I cant complain. Although, it really makes sleep difficult.

Oh, here are some funny things from the past few weeks:

I went to the market with Hawa on Saturday to buy some of the last things I needed for my house (we had bought all the basics, like a bed, a stove, buckets for water, kitchen essentials…etc on Friday) such as kerosene for my lamp. I didn’t have a container so instead of buying one Hawa gave me her water bottle. I chugged the water and after fighting in line with 10 other women filled the bottle with kerosene from a pump at the gas station. I went home that night, and we had electricity luckily so I just put the bottle with the rest of my kitchen stuff near the lamp. Later that night I realized that I hadn’t taken my medicine from the morning so I looked around for a water bottle (I have many now, I’m like a bag lady but I keep water bottles and have about 10 in my room to store water when I purify it). I grabbed a bottle, popped the pill in my mouth and took a swig. Unfortunately, I actually drank a little before my taste buds kicked in and the kerosene went flying out of my mouth. I couldn’t taste my dinner really that night and kept burping up gas… excellent. Don’t worry, no side effects other than a little stomach discomfort the next day and now the bottle is safely out of reach under my bed so I wont repeat the same mistake.

Two nights ago after watching a movie before bed, I wanted to go out to use the bathroom and brush my teeth, but as I was gathering my things I heard a strange sound from outside. I listened closer and realized it was the sound of a woman yelling in pain. I thought at first it was the sound of a woman getting beaten, but then it went on for too long and was too rhythmic and continuous… I came to the conclusion that it was a woman in labor, but I was already too unsettled to go out alone. Luckily one of my roommates was still up so I (with only a little embarrassment) asked her if she’d come out with me. She was going out anyway she said so as we walked outside I commented on the sound of the woman in labor. I said “she must be having a baby”. My roommate looked confused so I explained, “the sound right now, that woman must be in labor”. She looked puzzled for a minute and started laughing… she said “no, that’s a goat”. It turns out that farm animals make VERY different noises than they teach us as children.

I was standing in my yard on Sunday, outside the back door, just looking around. Our back door opens up to a slope upward of sand/clay/rock and some desert plants and I was admiring the scenery. I saw something move out of the corner of my eye and all of a sudden a troupe of monkeys (I think baboons, but don’t quote me on it) went traipsing across my backyard. - Not funny, but worth mentioning.

My supervisor gave me two dresses as presents the other day and wanted me to wear one of them to work today. No problem, except they are surprisingly similar to mumus that reach almost my ankles and have no shape, only a hole cut out for the head. It was so difficult for me to act grateful when she was showing them to me (mostly because I really wanted to cry… I hadn’t slept the night before because of my malaria prophylaxis and heat, I was stressed by the work situation, and annoyed at being treated like a child who has no idea how to run their life). I was so sure I wouldn’t have the courage to leave the house in one let alone board a matatu and walk through town in it so I took it in a bag to work and decided to change there. Hawa took one look at me and laughed so hard. She told me I made her day… I took it off (it smelled weird anyway because I hadn’t had a chance to wash it yet). I’m supposed to wear it tomorrow… we’ll see how it goes. The good news - for you anyway - is that this will make a good picture for face book. Gross.

August 13th:

I'm now wearing the outfit... I feel like Dobby the house elf in Harry Potter. This must be what it feels like to wear a pillow case. I'll admit though, that its really comfortable. I feel like I'm in pajamas. This has been a very productive day at work, but all I want to do in this outfit is go to sleep :)

I'm sorry its been so long since my last post... Ive tried a few times to update it but the internet has not been cooporating. So instead of writing about the things that have happened in the last month I'm going to start from this past week and move on (for my sanity's sake).

Alright folks, site assignments are in and the verdits doled out this past Tuesday... A week from today I'll be packing my bags and spending my last night with my new family, in preparation for leaving Loitokitok on Monday morning (my home for the past two months, though it feels more like a lifetime in some ways). After spending a few days in Nairobi (our last days of training), come Friday, I will be on the road again. Destination: Garissa (my new home for the next two years). Dont worry, I'll give you a minute to open a new tab and check for it on the map - hint: find the intersection of the equator and the Somali Boarder and work your way in.

Ok, now that you've located it on the map... this is how it went down. We met at Outward Bound and sat excitedly while Joseph (our training manager) walked in with the envelopes containing our fate. He called Mary first, she is located in a supremely awesome site right on the coast. We were all green with jealousy even though we had no idea where we were headed at that point. My envelop came up about 5 people in (these people had been placed in Coast or Nyanza) and I was hoping he would call out Coast. Not so much... My thoughts when Joseph called out "Rachel... Garissa, North Eastern Province!" were exactly this: "Wha..." because my brain went into shock before I processed the last "t". I managed a quick acceptance speech to my fellow trainees which was the following "You're welcome..." read "now that its been announced that I'm going to Garissa none of you have to worry anymore". I wasnt really sure what to think at this point...

Just to put this into perspective for you, Garissa is the site that we have been taunting eachother with for the last few weeks. For example, if you do something wrong or are speaking too loudly during class to your neighbor, I might wisper to you "that's it, you're going to Garissa!!". We all got a really good laugh because of ti too, at least those of us under 50, because for the past month or so a rumor has been circulating that the person going to Garissa would be one of the 6 older people in our group. Although, my friend Dan, for some reason known only to him, was convinced he was destined to Garissa. He drew a nice little picture in class one day (of his fate): it was a sign post with a highway sign on it and two directional arrows, right: Garissa, left: happiness. On the up side, he told me I'll be getting it as a present for Christmas.No idea where the rumor began, but it made sense to us all because we had been told that the climate in the North Eastern province is not exactly the ideal place for a young woman - or so we thought. Therefore, I thought I was safe. Guess we (and the Peace Corps rumor mill - last time I trust that by the way, although, probably not) were wrong.

The rest of the afternoon we all looked over maps and found out who our closest neighbors would be of our group (of course "close" is relative for me considering it is 345 km down the road). People came up to me to ask how I was taking the news (similar to how you would approach someone whose close family member has just died) and I actually felt ok about it. Once the initial shock passed and I read about my assignment (working in a maternity home doing mother and child health work, also with malaria, HIV/AIDS, and sanitation - including female circumcisions/female genital mutilation) I actually started to be excited about my placement. We joked about it a lot too, of course since its just funny that given all the gossip I of all people am getting sent to Garissa. We hypothesized that becasue Mike (who is living on an Island and communitng to work on the mainland via boat) gets a lifejacket allowance that maybe I would be getting a weapons allowance (dont worry mom, its only a joke... I'm sure its very safe there). I've basically decided to take this placement as a huge vote of confidence on the part of the Peace Corps staff, they must have faith in my ability. Plus, I'm pretty sure this will give me all sorts of streed cred so I'm feeling pretty bad ass about that.

The more I find out about my site the more excited I am to be moving there. Its sounds absolutely perfect (even the sweltering heat is at least dry heat, unlike the coast or lake region) and I'm excited to test my self in new ways. I look forward to the challenges and therefore establishing a new sense of self - which is what the Peace Corps is about in a lot of ways. I'll be living on my own for the first time in my life and I'm excited that I get to do it in Africa. My house sounds great: electricity, a bathroom (toilet?), a bedroom, a sitting room, a kitchen... not too shabby. It'll be hard being so far away from my new friends, but there is a volunteer there currently so that's reassuring and another one half way between me and the coast (where my closest fellow trainees will be).

I've been reading a book lately called "6 months in sudan" you should check it out. I feel a lot of the same things, although its written by a doctor in MSF, it related to my life in a lot of ways: struggling to find beer and having to haul a few cases acrossed town without getting too much attention - for a 4th of july party, foam mattresses, same food day in and day out, and soon the oppressive heat. Plus just general outlook on life - though mine is filled with much more happiness than his. Its worth checking out.

Alright, I'd love to write more, but I should go so I dont use all my money. If anyone wants to start being my penpal (more are always welcome) send me your address. I miss you all tons!!

Oh, PS. I passed my language exam last week (yippee!) but since I'm on the coast-ish (actually, the only one from our group in the whole North Eastern provice, but who's counting) I'm staying with Kiswahili not learning a new language so I'll be testing again a week from now. I wont be as nervous this time so we'll se how well I can do. :)

It poured here last night, good old Seattle-style rain and I, of course, loved every minute of it. My mama was happy too since the cows havent been producing very much milk because there isnt very much water to drink and of course the dust situation is VASTLY improved today, however she was less than pleased about the leak in the kitchen roof. We filled up two buckets of water while cooking the ugali, kale, and meat (I'm going to guess goat) last night for dinner. Mostly we laughed about it and revelled in the sound of the rain pounding on the tin roof of our house. I wanted to stay glued to the window and watch the rain being blown around and the huge drops on the ground, but I also had to help with dinner so I didnt get to enjoy it as much as I would have liked. I was so dusty after yesterday my first instinct was to run out into it. Getting up to the training facility at Outward Bound today was a bit of a challenge because of the big puddles and slippery mud, but I think I prefer it to dust.

This past weekend I went on a walk with my Peace Corps friends to a "waterfall" that is only referred to as waterfall 51 or just 51. It was nice to get out and walk around somewhere besides the main streets of town we saw all week. Our friend Neil's brother Mati took us there. The walk was dusty and hot (and my friend Dan's host family lives up the steepest hill around), but it was really pretty when we got down to the river. Really it was more of a creek of barely moving water, but men were taking cattle there to drink and women and children were washing clothes on the other side. Once we got to the river we walked on boulders until we got to a dead end of rock on three sides with a little trickle of water coming through. The spot was really peaceful there and we all agreed it wouldbe a nice destination to do some pondering if we ever felt inclined. On Sunday, another group of us went again because we wanted to be out and two of the group hadnt come the previous day. This time we were escorted by the young girls taking care of Katie while her mama was out of town for the weekend (ages 9 and 13, haha). We got to our group meeting on Monday morning and the first announcement was that no one was allowed to go back to 51 anymore because, as it turns out, the actual waterfall is in Tanzania. Oops! I'm glad I got to see it though (and the people that didnt are pretty jealous). I'm also glad we didnt get caught, seeing that we dont even have our passports at this point as they are in Nairobi for processing our work permits.

Tomorrow we are making our first journey by matatu and I am kind of scared (maybe more than kind of...). Its pretty much the only mode of transportation though so I guess I better get used to it. Apparently people take all sorts of animals with them on matatus too, so that will be interesting. I always feel like I'm forgeting so much when I write here but I'll try to keep notes or something and write more soon...

PS. Thanks for the emails, I definitely love getting them. Kristin, good luck on the prelim!! You'll kick ass (and you know it).

The city I am in now is incredibly dust... we are talking a few inches or more of dirt everywhere. Its very fine dirt and manages to get into everything (eyes included). And it has been really windy here lately making the dust an even bigger pain. The wind also creates problems with skirts I have come to find out and am currently working on a way not to become the town prostitute every time it is windy.

I am adjusting to life with my family well so far, although the food is a different from what I am used to and a lot heavier. My family teases me when I dont eat very much, saying that when I go back to America they want me to be big. I think my goal will be maintaining ;)

Swahili lessons are also coming along well although at times frustrating. There is so much to remember, although we're lucky its not as complicated as learning English.

I went to church last night with my family (they are Jahova's Witnesses) and tried to follow what I could of the Swahili sermon and read through the books to see what words I knew. I was excited to be out after dark though (our normal curfew is 6:30 although my mama would be worried if I werent home by 5) because our town is hosting elephants we are told who have come up from the game reserve for the greens. It has been so dry they need to come to higher ground. We were told to be very careful if out after dark because someone in the last group was chased by an elephant. It hasnt happened to anyone in our group yet, however.

I should go because people are waiting to use the internet, but I'll try to keep posting often. Next time I will tell you all about the story of the cat who lives with my family.

Hello everyone!! I am in Kenya now and just spent my first night with my host family. My mama is very welcoming and excited and so helpful! I have a little brother and sister as well. They are very cute and so much fun. Kelvin loves to help me with my Swahili which I'm sure will come in handy in the next few weeks. I hope I can learn quickly enough because if we have satisfactorily learned Swahili by the 5th week we can start to learn a local language for when we are at our sites. Lydia, my sisiter, is 5 and has unlimmited energy. She loves to come play with me and hold my hand and told her mama in Swahili this morning that even though she doesnt speak much english she loves talking to me. She also found out that I would be coming home from my school later than she was getting home and said she would drink my tea, and also that she was joking. My house has electricity and a TV even so we watched the Kenya vs Nigeria football game last night over dinner which I helped a little bit to make. This morning I took my first bucket bath which wasnt as bad as I was worried it would be... just a bit cold. I will be taking my mama up on the offer of warm bath water from now on. Last night was my first experience with the pit latrines. They are actually not as bad as you'd think: its quick, easy, and painless.

I am feeling pretty good about my Swhaili so far and get excited when I have a chance to use it, and when I can talk with my family at home. On the drive down to our training site we saw giraffes, zebras, donkeys, ostriches, and many cow and goat hearders. At the place we stayed on saturday night we saw monkeys. I really like all the people in my training class. They are fun and open and it feels like we've known eachother forever already. The last week feels like it has been more like a year. I have loved the food so far, and have encounted no associated illnesses yet. :) I'm trying to think of what else to say because there is so much... the town is really dusty, I almost died in a luggage avalanche on the bus to our training site because all the bags that didnt fit below the bus got stacked in the back and the roads are incredibly bumpy. It was during that trip that I first really felt like I was in Africa... although it still sometimes feels like a dream.

All I can say is that I have loved every minute so far (and I hope that this post actually makes it onto the internet because I am sitting in an internet cafe on lunch break that has a really slow connection). I love you all and will write more when I can!

Alright, the moment of truth... we leave tomorrow for Kenya. After a trip to New York, a 7 1/2 hour flight to Amsterdam, and an 8 hour flight to Kenya I will finally be there!!

I have met everyone in my group and they all seem really great. Some of us went out to dinner and that was really fun getting to know everyone. I think this is going to be a fun group.

Sadly, tomorrow will be the last time I have guarenteed communication with anyone. It will be really sad and an odd feeling to know that it could be a few weeks or months before I can even check email let alone blog or talk on Skype. Its a daunting thought and Im nervous for the isolation it might cause. But all in all I think I'm ready.

Here goes nothing...

Alright, enough time for a quick update before the information session this afternoon. I took a walk down to the liberty bell this morning with my roommate here and we discovered a mutal love of 24 (I knew I liked her). Luckily for us, Brandon put all the seasons of 24 on an external hard drive and we can watch the season finale together tonight :)

Now off to what I presume will be a very boring afternoon. I hear that ice breakers are included... awesome.