Sorry I never put up a final post. I think everybody knows I made it home, before Christmas and was able to enjoy the holidays with family and then with friends in New York.
I move back to William and Mary tomorrow and am excited for real classes to begin again. I'm hoping to get funding to do my honors thesis this summer, so I will hopefully be returning to Kenya this summer. If all goes according to plan, my funding will cover my transportation, living costs, and be enough extra that I can pretend I actually had a paying job.
My life at William and Mary isn't interesting enough to report here, but check back during the summer as I'm sure I'll be off on some exciting adventure even if it isn't overseas. Hopefully it won't be the adventures of a temp in Staunton. My options as of right now are:
1) Research in Kenya
2) Red Cross Presidential Internship (paid and everything)
3) Partners in Health Internship (although this would involve me getting chosen over several thousand applicants and finding someone to give me money to live in Boston)
4) White Water Rafting Guide in Colorado (also offering you an exciting place to vacation next July and celebrate my 21st with me)
5) My own personal version of The Office as a temp in Staunton
Friday, January 16, 2009
Monday, December 1, 2008
Mathare
My month long project is coming to a close, and I thought it might be a good time to fill you in a little on where I've been spending my days. The project certainly hasn't turned out as I had planned or hoped, but I've also been able to learn many valuable things because of this project. My time has been spent in Mathare, a slum about 1.5 to 2 hours away from my house.
Mathare is certainly not even close to being the largest slum of Nairobi, yet is still home to over half a million people. Most are women and their children; most unemployed. Many of the men you see are passed out in the alleys because of drug and alcohol abuse. The population increases daily as people flock to Nairobi in hopes of employment and opportunities. Unfortunately, instead most live off about a dollar a day in complete squaller, with no government aid and no hope for their future or their children.
In all the interviews I've completed, I've met few that have had the opportunity to attend secondary school, and less than five who have been able to complete it. The Kenyan government provides universal primary education. Too bad that there aren't enough primary schools in Mathare for all the children. Instead, private schools have popped up to accommodate the ever-increasing poverty. These "private" schools are made from scrap metal, lack electricity, are stifling hot, and fit 20 to 30 students in each classroom which is about the size of a nice bathroom.
Large families fight to fit into small ramshackle huts made of scrap metal and other products usually regarded to as trash. Rent for these "houses" range anywhere from 800 to 2500 Kenyan Shillings (between 10 and 30 USD). It may not sound like much, but most families struggle to make three or four thousand a month. These are the dollar a day statistics you always hear about.
The “streets” are lined with sewage and other waste. Streams of unusable water run through the entire slum, making walking through the slum a dangerous and arduous adventure. The government does not provide adequate water supplies, with many people being forced to go on long walks each day to fetch water. The water supply was turned off a year ago because the government complained too many people were not paying. There are not enough bathrooms to suffice for the overabundant population. Where electricity exists, it is usually in an illegal form; hijacked from families up on the hills above Mathare, still costing each household about 300 shillings a month.
Nighttime is a dangerous time in Mathare. Although the Kenyan government
implemented a project to instill large lights for all of the slums, there are still areas of darkness. When there are power outages the slums become infinitely more dangerous at night. With little police intervention throughout the slums, people are left to fend off muggers, rapists, and other violent persons by themselves.
If you wanted to walk through Mathare by yourself, it would be nearly impossible. The maze of homes and shops is nearly impenetrable without a knowledgeable guide. If you do get in, be prepared for the nonstop chants of "How are you, how are you" over and over again from young children excited to see a white person. The jaded adults just stare at you, occasionally asking that you sponsor their child through school. The meaner ones yell at you to leave, that this isn't a show for my privileged eyes to see.
On hot days, I am embarrassed to say, I can not survive staying in Mathare for more than 2 hours. The combination of heat, lack of ventilation, and the awful stench of human waste makes me physically ill. Instead I leave, sit on my matatu for 2 hours, and realize how unbelievably lucky I am that my journeys to Mathare last for a few hours at most, while all the people I talked to during the day were born, raised, and will probably die in conditions that will never even be an option for me to live in.
Mathare is certainly not even close to being the largest slum of Nairobi, yet is still home to over half a million people. Most are women and their children; most unemployed. Many of the men you see are passed out in the alleys because of drug and alcohol abuse. The population increases daily as people flock to Nairobi in hopes of employment and opportunities. Unfortunately, instead most live off about a dollar a day in complete squaller, with no government aid and no hope for their future or their children.
In all the interviews I've completed, I've met few that have had the opportunity to attend secondary school, and less than five who have been able to complete it. The Kenyan government provides universal primary education. Too bad that there aren't enough primary schools in Mathare for all the children. Instead, private schools have popped up to accommodate the ever-increasing poverty. These "private" schools are made from scrap metal, lack electricity, are stifling hot, and fit 20 to 30 students in each classroom which is about the size of a nice bathroom.
Large families fight to fit into small ramshackle huts made of scrap metal and other products usually regarded to as trash. Rent for these "houses" range anywhere from 800 to 2500 Kenyan Shillings (between 10 and 30 USD). It may not sound like much, but most families struggle to make three or four thousand a month. These are the dollar a day statistics you always hear about.
The “streets” are lined with sewage and other waste. Streams of unusable water run through the entire slum, making walking through the slum a dangerous and arduous adventure. The government does not provide adequate water supplies, with many people being forced to go on long walks each day to fetch water. The water supply was turned off a year ago because the government complained too many people were not paying. There are not enough bathrooms to suffice for the overabundant population. Where electricity exists, it is usually in an illegal form; hijacked from families up on the hills above Mathare, still costing each household about 300 shillings a month.
Nighttime is a dangerous time in Mathare. Although the Kenyan government
implemented a project to instill large lights for all of the slums, there are still areas of darkness. When there are power outages the slums become infinitely more dangerous at night. With little police intervention throughout the slums, people are left to fend off muggers, rapists, and other violent persons by themselves.
If you wanted to walk through Mathare by yourself, it would be nearly impossible. The maze of homes and shops is nearly impenetrable without a knowledgeable guide. If you do get in, be prepared for the nonstop chants of "How are you, how are you" over and over again from young children excited to see a white person. The jaded adults just stare at you, occasionally asking that you sponsor their child through school. The meaner ones yell at you to leave, that this isn't a show for my privileged eyes to see.
On hot days, I am embarrassed to say, I can not survive staying in Mathare for more than 2 hours. The combination of heat, lack of ventilation, and the awful stench of human waste makes me physically ill. Instead I leave, sit on my matatu for 2 hours, and realize how unbelievably lucky I am that my journeys to Mathare last for a few hours at most, while all the people I talked to during the day were born, raised, and will probably die in conditions that will never even be an option for me to live in.
Thursday, November 27, 2008
Thanksgiving in Kenya
I love Thanksgiving. It may be my favorite holiday, so I was not about to stop a little thing like being in Kenya where they don't have Turkey stop me from having my Thanksgiving dinner.
Luckily Nairobi is swarming with ex pats, particularly the area that I live in. It wasn't too hard finding a large turkey (although finding one that wasn't completely ridiculously overpriced was a bit of a challenge). The real challenge came in trying to cook the turkey and all the other delicious goodies that are necessary for Thanksgiving in a Kenyan oven. At least our apartment comes with an oven, which is a huge luxury here. The turkey just barely fit, but we somehow got it in (and even managed to bake brie and pigs in a blanket at the same time)
So all in all, Thanksgiving was wonderful. I found all the necessary ingredients except cranberries. I had a week filled with baking. I even successfully cooked my first turkey, although apparently its head had been stuffed in the Turkey and i didn't take that out. Oops. I did get the neck and giblets out successfully, didn't dry the turkey out, and had it out on the table with all the other delicious food I prepared only 2 and a half hours after we had originally planned. Then I celebrated with 11 others, and it was wonderful.
Nairobi is now decorated for Christmas, which I am highly opposed to. Now the grocery store that I go to has power outages every seven minutes because of all the lights that are on outside. Personally I would rather keep my meat refrigerated than have palm trees lit up for a month. There are also probably large sections of Nairobi that have lot longer power outages than the somewhat (okay, very) shwanky part of town I have found myself in.
I've also decided not to go to Tanzania this year. It was a somewhat difficult decision to make, but I don't think I can handle flying into New York, driving to William and Mary, and starting classes the next day. I'm still going to travel around Uganda with a friend for two weeks, and then fly home. I'll miss Christmas, but hopefully be home in time for New Years in New York. Now it's just a matter of changing my flight (again), so everybody should say a little prayer or do a little dance, or just cross your fingers for me, that I can get home when I want to.
Hope everyone's Thanksgiving was wonderful. Enjoy Black Friday. New York Times says that sales are going to blow your mind, so make sure to buy me a lot of stuff.
Luckily Nairobi is swarming with ex pats, particularly the area that I live in. It wasn't too hard finding a large turkey (although finding one that wasn't completely ridiculously overpriced was a bit of a challenge). The real challenge came in trying to cook the turkey and all the other delicious goodies that are necessary for Thanksgiving in a Kenyan oven. At least our apartment comes with an oven, which is a huge luxury here. The turkey just barely fit, but we somehow got it in (and even managed to bake brie and pigs in a blanket at the same time)
So all in all, Thanksgiving was wonderful. I found all the necessary ingredients except cranberries. I had a week filled with baking. I even successfully cooked my first turkey, although apparently its head had been stuffed in the Turkey and i didn't take that out. Oops. I did get the neck and giblets out successfully, didn't dry the turkey out, and had it out on the table with all the other delicious food I prepared only 2 and a half hours after we had originally planned. Then I celebrated with 11 others, and it was wonderful.
Nairobi is now decorated for Christmas, which I am highly opposed to. Now the grocery store that I go to has power outages every seven minutes because of all the lights that are on outside. Personally I would rather keep my meat refrigerated than have palm trees lit up for a month. There are also probably large sections of Nairobi that have lot longer power outages than the somewhat (okay, very) shwanky part of town I have found myself in.
I've also decided not to go to Tanzania this year. It was a somewhat difficult decision to make, but I don't think I can handle flying into New York, driving to William and Mary, and starting classes the next day. I'm still going to travel around Uganda with a friend for two weeks, and then fly home. I'll miss Christmas, but hopefully be home in time for New Years in New York. Now it's just a matter of changing my flight (again), so everybody should say a little prayer or do a little dance, or just cross your fingers for me, that I can get home when I want to.
Hope everyone's Thanksgiving was wonderful. Enjoy Black Friday. New York Times says that sales are going to blow your mind, so make sure to buy me a lot of stuff.
Sunday, November 23, 2008
Driving Lessons
If upon visiting Nairobi, matatus do not seem like an appealing mode of transportation, there is always the option to rent a car. However, there are certain elements of driving that will suddenly appear, while most standard rules that you’ve appropriately obeyed your whole driving life will suddenly disappear.
Which Side of the Road Do I Drive On?
Technically, drivers should stay on the left side of the road at all times. However, if in heavy traffic, most likely you will dash onto the wrong side of the road, speed as far as you can go before crashing into an oncoming car, and then slyly force yourself back into the left lane by simply not allowing anybody else to take your spot. Although this will inevitably cause you to be in several car accidents a year, nobody will really mind all that much as it is daily life and their cars are already being destroyed by the unfathomable number of potholes. If driving on the wrong side of the road doesn’t appeal to you, you can always take the side walk approach. Now this poses a problem when you run into all the people walking and the street venders selling fruits and vegetables. Here you just simply drive to about an inch of them, viciously honk your horn until they figure out their unforgivable audaciousness in using the sidewalk, and then move themselves and all of their belongings out of your way.
What’s With all Those Roundabouts Anyway?
I’m sure if an analysis of worldwide roundabouts was done, Nairobi would come out as number one in the number that exist. In town (which is what westerners would consider “downtown”, but here downtown refers to the unsafe red light districts), you will be hard pressed to find yourself traveling more than a minute without coming across another roundabout. At midnight, these make great sense and are great fun to travel around with your crazy cab driver. At noon, they are treacherous awful things where traffic laws are thrown out the window, and you will likely witness at least 1 traffic accident, and you will probably sit in 15-20 minutes of traffic at each one (a tremendous amount of time when you have to sit through several roundabouts). Here it is extremely common to see the mass exodus of people from their matatus as walking 5 kms suddenly becomes exponentially faster than sitting in the car. Unfortunately this then adds to the degree of difficulty, as not only do you have to avoid hundreds of cars, you also have to attempt to avoid the hundreds of people milling around between cars in the streets.
How Do I Avoid That Unfathomable Number of Potholes?
Simply put, you don’t. Give it two weeks and your stomach will suddenly be used to the constant throws of the road, and suddenly you start to enjoy the unavoidable ab workout of riding around Nairobi.
When are the Best Times to Drive to Avoid an Immense Amount of Traffic?
If you like to drive around at night, Nairobi will be perfect for you. Between the hours of 8:30pm and 4:30 am you will be hard pressed to find traffic, and those roundabouts are great Otherwise you will be stuck in traffic no matter what, no matter where you are. If you thought your cities traffic was bad, I assure you, it is not. So be thankful next time you’re driving down the LIE; at least you have your 711 coffee.
Traffic Lights?
In theory, they exist. In practice, you go when you can. Although at times you see traffic officers trying to control the roads, they are also largely ignored. When people do follow them, it usually turns into a version of the opposite game, gravely frightening the passengers but somehow always working out.
The Rights of the Pedestrian
I haven’t quite figured these out. Usually the pedestrian just runs. There are numerous mind games played between the drivers and the walkers where the drivers often speed up immensely in order to see if they can get the pedestrian. In town there are a number of pedestrian signals, but like all other things they are ignored.
Overall, the main goal is to have great luck. Basically just drive, drive anywhere and everywhere, look intimidating, and you will probably make it from point A to point B. Then again you could just take a cab which takes all of the above to a new level.
Which Side of the Road Do I Drive On?
Technically, drivers should stay on the left side of the road at all times. However, if in heavy traffic, most likely you will dash onto the wrong side of the road, speed as far as you can go before crashing into an oncoming car, and then slyly force yourself back into the left lane by simply not allowing anybody else to take your spot. Although this will inevitably cause you to be in several car accidents a year, nobody will really mind all that much as it is daily life and their cars are already being destroyed by the unfathomable number of potholes. If driving on the wrong side of the road doesn’t appeal to you, you can always take the side walk approach. Now this poses a problem when you run into all the people walking and the street venders selling fruits and vegetables. Here you just simply drive to about an inch of them, viciously honk your horn until they figure out their unforgivable audaciousness in using the sidewalk, and then move themselves and all of their belongings out of your way.
What’s With all Those Roundabouts Anyway?
I’m sure if an analysis of worldwide roundabouts was done, Nairobi would come out as number one in the number that exist. In town (which is what westerners would consider “downtown”, but here downtown refers to the unsafe red light districts), you will be hard pressed to find yourself traveling more than a minute without coming across another roundabout. At midnight, these make great sense and are great fun to travel around with your crazy cab driver. At noon, they are treacherous awful things where traffic laws are thrown out the window, and you will likely witness at least 1 traffic accident, and you will probably sit in 15-20 minutes of traffic at each one (a tremendous amount of time when you have to sit through several roundabouts). Here it is extremely common to see the mass exodus of people from their matatus as walking 5 kms suddenly becomes exponentially faster than sitting in the car. Unfortunately this then adds to the degree of difficulty, as not only do you have to avoid hundreds of cars, you also have to attempt to avoid the hundreds of people milling around between cars in the streets.
How Do I Avoid That Unfathomable Number of Potholes?
Simply put, you don’t. Give it two weeks and your stomach will suddenly be used to the constant throws of the road, and suddenly you start to enjoy the unavoidable ab workout of riding around Nairobi.
When are the Best Times to Drive to Avoid an Immense Amount of Traffic?
If you like to drive around at night, Nairobi will be perfect for you. Between the hours of 8:30pm and 4:30 am you will be hard pressed to find traffic, and those roundabouts are great Otherwise you will be stuck in traffic no matter what, no matter where you are. If you thought your cities traffic was bad, I assure you, it is not. So be thankful next time you’re driving down the LIE; at least you have your 711 coffee.
Traffic Lights?
In theory, they exist. In practice, you go when you can. Although at times you see traffic officers trying to control the roads, they are also largely ignored. When people do follow them, it usually turns into a version of the opposite game, gravely frightening the passengers but somehow always working out.
The Rights of the Pedestrian
I haven’t quite figured these out. Usually the pedestrian just runs. There are numerous mind games played between the drivers and the walkers where the drivers often speed up immensely in order to see if they can get the pedestrian. In town there are a number of pedestrian signals, but like all other things they are ignored.
Overall, the main goal is to have great luck. Basically just drive, drive anywhere and everywhere, look intimidating, and you will probably make it from point A to point B. Then again you could just take a cab which takes all of the above to a new level.
Thursday, November 20, 2008
My Stomach
So it turns out that what I had affectionately named Jacque von Claudue was not actually a worm in my tummy. Instead it was a billion bacteria viciously attacking my intestines for a month and a half. Oops.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Monday, November 17, 2008
Matatus
I've decided to follow my sister's lead and begin a tutorial of how to survive in Kenya.
What is a Matatu?
A matatu is East Africa's response to a lack of public transportation and incredible traffic. The small ones start at 14 passengers (although a little squeezing can go a long way in adding a few passengers), and can go up to bus size. They travel on routes throughout Nairobi and beyond.
How Reliable is a Matatu?
Great question. That really relies on what traffic is like. Usually you stand on the side of the road and have found your matatu of choice to hop on. In the peak of rush hour it may take a few matatus to find one that has an empty seat, bust most likely you won't wait more than 5 minutes. However, once on, you don't necessarily know how long you will stay on. If you happen to hit an unexpected traffic jam (which should actually be expected), you will most likely be kicked off the matatu as they have decided to no longer run. Sometimes you'll get your money back, but usually you won't, and then the door will be slammed in your face.
How Do I Know Which Route to Take
The general consensus on how to figure out which route to take is "you just know". Although there are very set routes the matatus take, there is nothing in writing anywhere to tell you, leaving the white people cluesless. Instead you ask "Wapi matatu mpaka insert name here" (Where is the matatu to....). People most point in an indeterminable direction, you walk fifteen steps, and repeat the process. However, there is a catch to this. For instance, there is Rt 46 which goes to my house, and also to Mathare (a slum on the opposite side of Nairobi). If you ask matatus near my house if they go to Mathare they look at you like you are an idiot, and promptly drive away. Why? Because Route 46 does not actually go the whole way. Instead you must get off at the railway station, take a ten minute walk, and then hop another 46 to Mathare. Why is there this mystery gap in matatu service? Another great unknown.
Where Do You Sit in a Matatu
Seating on a matatu is at a premium. To sit in the front means an absolute panic attack, and you are near death almost the entire time as the matatu lurches into the nearest automobile. Sitting on a window seat is equally as bad as you watch your matatu creep up to the matatu next to you, until you can't creep anymore, and then you DO creep more, and become positive that at any given moment the person's head next to is going to crash through your window and onto your lap. If you sit in the back row you are certain to hit your head multiple times on the roof, as for some reason the roof dips down just in time for the back row. Then if you sit in the seat next to the door, you will probably have the fare taker sit on your lap at least once as he tries to make room for extra passengers. So that leaves 2 seats for the taking. Good luck.
Decoration
Matatus can be broken into three categories: the Obama Matatu, the Jesus Matatu, or the Ghetto Party Matatu. Sometimes if you're really lucky, you can catch one that has combined all three.
The Obama
Consists of various pictures of Obama's head plastered onto the windows and sides of the vehicle. Then there are various phrases like "Yes we Can" and "The Change you Can Believe In".
The Jesus
The large window in back has a picture of Jesus, usually with a saying such as "Believe in your Shepherd" or some such thing. Usually the sides of the vehicle are covered in the Beatitudes and various other religious sayings, along with smaller images of Jesus.
Ghetto Party
These matatus are the ones that are most often vibrant oranges, pinks, and purples. Then they are covered with obscene phrases, and either pictures of half naked girls, or American rap and hip hop celebrities.
The Combination
These usually cover Jesus and Obama on the outside. Once inside however you are surrounded with ridiculous phrases, that even I proficient in English, sometimes have a hard time understanding.
Matatu Entertainment
No matter which matatu you take, you are sure to have the same in transit entertainment. It consists of obnoxiously loud, bad bad bad music, that often revolves around alcohol, drugs, and parts of the female anatomy. Some songs are only three words long, but I will refrain from posting them here as my mother reads this. If you are lucky and catch a matatu when it is getting dark, you will also experience the flashing lights and television screens to play music videos or other random tidbits that rarely actually go along with the songs being played. Once in a blue moon, this music will be foregone for a mix of Whitney Houston and bad country.
And that is how I spend at least 3 hours of my day. Next I will touch on how to drive in Nairobi, as that is a bizarre experience in itself.
What is a Matatu?
A matatu is East Africa's response to a lack of public transportation and incredible traffic. The small ones start at 14 passengers (although a little squeezing can go a long way in adding a few passengers), and can go up to bus size. They travel on routes throughout Nairobi and beyond.
How Reliable is a Matatu?
Great question. That really relies on what traffic is like. Usually you stand on the side of the road and have found your matatu of choice to hop on. In the peak of rush hour it may take a few matatus to find one that has an empty seat, bust most likely you won't wait more than 5 minutes. However, once on, you don't necessarily know how long you will stay on. If you happen to hit an unexpected traffic jam (which should actually be expected), you will most likely be kicked off the matatu as they have decided to no longer run. Sometimes you'll get your money back, but usually you won't, and then the door will be slammed in your face.
How Do I Know Which Route to Take
The general consensus on how to figure out which route to take is "you just know". Although there are very set routes the matatus take, there is nothing in writing anywhere to tell you, leaving the white people cluesless. Instead you ask "Wapi matatu mpaka insert name here" (Where is the matatu to....). People most point in an indeterminable direction, you walk fifteen steps, and repeat the process. However, there is a catch to this. For instance, there is Rt 46 which goes to my house, and also to Mathare (a slum on the opposite side of Nairobi). If you ask matatus near my house if they go to Mathare they look at you like you are an idiot, and promptly drive away. Why? Because Route 46 does not actually go the whole way. Instead you must get off at the railway station, take a ten minute walk, and then hop another 46 to Mathare. Why is there this mystery gap in matatu service? Another great unknown.
Where Do You Sit in a Matatu
Seating on a matatu is at a premium. To sit in the front means an absolute panic attack, and you are near death almost the entire time as the matatu lurches into the nearest automobile. Sitting on a window seat is equally as bad as you watch your matatu creep up to the matatu next to you, until you can't creep anymore, and then you DO creep more, and become positive that at any given moment the person's head next to is going to crash through your window and onto your lap. If you sit in the back row you are certain to hit your head multiple times on the roof, as for some reason the roof dips down just in time for the back row. Then if you sit in the seat next to the door, you will probably have the fare taker sit on your lap at least once as he tries to make room for extra passengers. So that leaves 2 seats for the taking. Good luck.
Decoration
Matatus can be broken into three categories: the Obama Matatu, the Jesus Matatu, or the Ghetto Party Matatu. Sometimes if you're really lucky, you can catch one that has combined all three.
The Obama
Consists of various pictures of Obama's head plastered onto the windows and sides of the vehicle. Then there are various phrases like "Yes we Can" and "The Change you Can Believe In".
The Jesus
The large window in back has a picture of Jesus, usually with a saying such as "Believe in your Shepherd" or some such thing. Usually the sides of the vehicle are covered in the Beatitudes and various other religious sayings, along with smaller images of Jesus.
Ghetto Party
These matatus are the ones that are most often vibrant oranges, pinks, and purples. Then they are covered with obscene phrases, and either pictures of half naked girls, or American rap and hip hop celebrities.
The Combination
These usually cover Jesus and Obama on the outside. Once inside however you are surrounded with ridiculous phrases, that even I proficient in English, sometimes have a hard time understanding.
Matatu Entertainment
No matter which matatu you take, you are sure to have the same in transit entertainment. It consists of obnoxiously loud, bad bad bad music, that often revolves around alcohol, drugs, and parts of the female anatomy. Some songs are only three words long, but I will refrain from posting them here as my mother reads this. If you are lucky and catch a matatu when it is getting dark, you will also experience the flashing lights and television screens to play music videos or other random tidbits that rarely actually go along with the songs being played. Once in a blue moon, this music will be foregone for a mix of Whitney Houston and bad country.
And that is how I spend at least 3 hours of my day. Next I will touch on how to drive in Nairobi, as that is a bizarre experience in itself.
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
Obama Day
Today I am celebrating Obama Day, the newest national holiday on Kenya's calendar. Yesterday there were parades of people blocking off the streets downtown, and everywhere I went people shouted "OBAMA" at me. People have flooded to "Obama's" homestead, and everyone is in preparation for when he comes "home".
I unfortunately will not be celebrating a lot. Instead I will be writing a proposal that was due two days ago and moving into my new apartment.
Pictures of my new bald and beautiful head will follow shortly.
I unfortunately will not be celebrating a lot. Instead I will be writing a proposal that was due two days ago and moving into my new apartment.
Pictures of my new bald and beautiful head will follow shortly.
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Shaved Head
I shaved my head today. I woke up and said "I don't want hair anymore". And then I shaved it all off.
The end.
The end.
Monday, November 3, 2008
Dadaab
Just thought you all should know that I'm alive and that I just spent a week in Tanzania. I'll update about that some other time.
While in a Massaii Village I was given approval to go to Dadaab. My adviser apparently bribed Kenyan officials into letting us go (although that was only hinted at since I had nothing to do with it and I don't think anybody wants to admit to that).
So it was all great, until this morning, when the camp officially became too dangerous for me to go.
I give up.
While in a Massaii Village I was given approval to go to Dadaab. My adviser apparently bribed Kenyan officials into letting us go (although that was only hinted at since I had nothing to do with it and I don't think anybody wants to admit to that).
So it was all great, until this morning, when the camp officially became too dangerous for me to go.
I give up.
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Just Hilarious
So...the refugee camp that I decided to go to because it is too dangerous to go to the western portions of the country.
Remember my nice safe alternative?
You mean the one that has just erupted in violence?
Oh yea...that one.
Really, it's all just absolutely hilarious.
No big deal.
Remember my nice safe alternative?
You mean the one that has just erupted in violence?
Oh yea...that one.
Really, it's all just absolutely hilarious.
No big deal.
Raspberries
The word raspberry may have become my most commonly used while in Kenya. Whenever someone talks about fruits my mind wanders to images of me strolling through large open fields, skipping around with raspberries in my hand, and being in pure bliss. Then all too suddenly, I am reminded that Kenya has no raspberries.
But today...I found them. I got one of the two cartons of them, and am overlooking the fact that they all have a bit of mold on them, and am thoroughly enjoying the beautiful beautiful experience of this wonderful fruit. I also found kiwis and a pomegranate, but they were a bit out of my price range.
The moral of the story: don't take berries for granted because you never know when they will disappear from your life.
But today...I found them. I got one of the two cartons of them, and am overlooking the fact that they all have a bit of mold on them, and am thoroughly enjoying the beautiful beautiful experience of this wonderful fruit. I also found kiwis and a pomegranate, but they were a bit out of my price range.
The moral of the story: don't take berries for granted because you never know when they will disappear from your life.
Sunday, October 19, 2008
Maybe I'm a Spoiled Brat
....but I’m sick of waking up in the middle of the night, realizing that it is pouring rain outside, and beginning to feel guilty that I’m in a house with two blankets, a roof, and that I don’t have mud and human waste spilling into my hut that has about 10 people living in the space that should be made for one.
My heart shouldn’t break when I see a child drop a ball of fried dough, but it does because I know that that mandazi is probably the only food he’s going to get for the day, while I get to go eat 3 full nutritious meals, followed by ice cream if I want. And then I have enough money left over to go see a movie, or grab a beer or two, or buy whatever I want.
I’ve spent less than $50 of my own money in the past 6 weeks (keeping in mind that my housing has been covered and that $50 has gone to spending money on baking and restaurants)...this country is as cheap as you can get, and more than 90% of its population works in the informal economy and can’t afford any of these things.
I’m sick of having to question why I’m lucky enough to be a white girl from America, born to two well educated parents that have the ability to cosign my loans so that I can pick up and travel through the world, while everyone that I see here doesn’t even want to go to primary school because they know it’s not worth it. Secondary school for four years here costs about the same as my parents paid to send me to my private school for less than a trimester, and yet nobody can afford to send their children here. My house help, who completed secondary school, shouldn’t have to work in this house so that she can spend a few years saving up for a trade school- which costs less than $300 to complete
People shouldn’t just accept AIDS as a part of their society, and say that getting it is inevitable so why should we even protect ourselves. Knowing that it’s in the school curriculum, but none of the teachers understand it, and that most children don’t go to school and when my friends and I explain it to our families they are completely flabbergasted, makes me irate.
My Mama is one of the most educated women I have ever met, including those in the US. She’s visited the slums twice in her life, and is just blind to everything going on around her.
I’m writing a final paper on development and health, and I have no idea what development is. But I’m fairly certain that all our foreign aid, and the UN, and the awful governments set in place are doing nothing to accomplish any form of it. And I’ve resigned myself to the position of having no clue, and just deciding that I am going to enjoy pumpkin break because I am too frustrated to do anything else, which sets off the whole irate cycle again.
My heart shouldn’t break when I see a child drop a ball of fried dough, but it does because I know that that mandazi is probably the only food he’s going to get for the day, while I get to go eat 3 full nutritious meals, followed by ice cream if I want. And then I have enough money left over to go see a movie, or grab a beer or two, or buy whatever I want.
I’ve spent less than $50 of my own money in the past 6 weeks (keeping in mind that my housing has been covered and that $50 has gone to spending money on baking and restaurants)...this country is as cheap as you can get, and more than 90% of its population works in the informal economy and can’t afford any of these things.
I’m sick of having to question why I’m lucky enough to be a white girl from America, born to two well educated parents that have the ability to cosign my loans so that I can pick up and travel through the world, while everyone that I see here doesn’t even want to go to primary school because they know it’s not worth it. Secondary school for four years here costs about the same as my parents paid to send me to my private school for less than a trimester, and yet nobody can afford to send their children here. My house help, who completed secondary school, shouldn’t have to work in this house so that she can spend a few years saving up for a trade school- which costs less than $300 to complete
People shouldn’t just accept AIDS as a part of their society, and say that getting it is inevitable so why should we even protect ourselves. Knowing that it’s in the school curriculum, but none of the teachers understand it, and that most children don’t go to school and when my friends and I explain it to our families they are completely flabbergasted, makes me irate.
My Mama is one of the most educated women I have ever met, including those in the US. She’s visited the slums twice in her life, and is just blind to everything going on around her.
I’m writing a final paper on development and health, and I have no idea what development is. But I’m fairly certain that all our foreign aid, and the UN, and the awful governments set in place are doing nothing to accomplish any form of it. And I’ve resigned myself to the position of having no clue, and just deciding that I am going to enjoy pumpkin break because I am too frustrated to do anything else, which sets off the whole irate cycle again.
Saturday, October 18, 2008
Realizing I Know Nothing
As some may have noticed from a post earlier this week, I wasn't in the best mood ever. I blame most of that on Kenyan maize, boiled or grilled- it still tastes awful. Or maybe it had something to do with going to visit a woman with AIDS, living in the slums, abandoned by her alcoholic husband, trying to raise 2 babies with absolutely no money and unable to feed them or herself. Or going out to dinner with a group of women who's husbands had cheated on them and then infected them with HIV, and it being totally okay because it's okay when men aren't faithful- no big deal. Or realizing that I live minutes away from the largest slum in all of Africa, and that the Kenyan government has just decided that millions of people in Nairobi alone just aren't worth providing basic services to, and furthermore let's just cut off the little supply of water they did have so that they can rely on a stream that is polluted with human waste and trash.
I'm realizing I actually know nothing, and that any of the information I learned in America really has no bearing on anything actually going on in Kenya (and I would imagine most places). I'm frustrated.
On the bright side it looks like I have a research topic. On the downside it takes place in the Dadaab refuge camp, which is the most populous refugee camp in the world, and I'll be there by myself. Now I have to deal with a lot of bureaucratic stuff. I have to get an NGO to be my partner, get permission from the UNHCR (after finding an NGO), and then finally get the Kenyan government to give me permission. And I leave for Tanzania next weekend, so I have a lot of work to do between now and then. Hopefully it all works out, and if it doesn't, I've decided I'm just going to go live in the slums and take African Dance Classes, and bake a lot of pumpkin bread which turned out delicious last night.
I'm realizing I actually know nothing, and that any of the information I learned in America really has no bearing on anything actually going on in Kenya (and I would imagine most places). I'm frustrated.
On the bright side it looks like I have a research topic. On the downside it takes place in the Dadaab refuge camp, which is the most populous refugee camp in the world, and I'll be there by myself. Now I have to deal with a lot of bureaucratic stuff. I have to get an NGO to be my partner, get permission from the UNHCR (after finding an NGO), and then finally get the Kenyan government to give me permission. And I leave for Tanzania next weekend, so I have a lot of work to do between now and then. Hopefully it all works out, and if it doesn't, I've decided I'm just going to go live in the slums and take African Dance Classes, and bake a lot of pumpkin bread which turned out delicious last night.
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Batman vs. The Joker
Now I’ll preface this with saying I just watched The Dark Knight yesterday, but I really couldn’t help but notice how much John McCain looks like the Joker. He’s got that smug, wide, toothless grin behind which he’s thinking about how he can’t wait to be president so that he can bring down the best in our society, and make them into the worst. How he can’t wait to disappoint Joe the Plumber, take away our health care, make the rest of the world hate us even more, and well- the list goes on. But it’s okay because at least he’ll be going against all those PRO-abortioners.
So not the greatest image...BUT, you can't tell me that both remind you of crazy, insane, I'm going to destroy the world and all its people kind of people. And if you need further proof, go rewatch the debate and just look at McCain as Obama answers questions next to The Dark Knight.
So not the greatest image...BUT, you can't tell me that both remind you of crazy, insane, I'm going to destroy the world and all its people kind of people. And if you need further proof, go rewatch the debate and just look at McCain as Obama answers questions next to The Dark Knight.
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
No Big Deal
I really love Kenya. I do.
However I do not like the lack of health care and severely lacking communication skills.
Yesterday I made my first ever trip to a hospital. Not that I am actually sick enough to go to the hospital, but quality health care centers aren’t exactly plentiful here in Kenya (even though Nairobi is one of the medical centers of Africa- a somewhat frightening fact). Basically I paid a lot of money ( Kenyan standards which have recently become my own, not at all by American standards) to wait a long time, have my temperature taken, and to be handed a lot of medicine that I’m fairly certain won’t work. I’m pretty sure I have a worm living inside of me, and I’m pretty sure that my new Flora Norm medicine isn’t going to kill the bastard. Oh well. The uncontrollable burp fest that occurred for approximately 20 straight hours (a feat I never imagined possible, but oh it can, and it is not particularly fun), is at least under control for the time being, alleviating my classmates from having the smell the rotten eggs continuously coming out of my mouth. Gross I know; but if I had to suffer through it, so should all of you.
As far as communication skills; Our academic advisor decided to tell us TODAY that next week we are supposed to be going to our research sites to start getting ready for the actual month we are doing research. That means I don't actually have a place to live for a few days next week. In the next breath he also told us that I will not be allowed to go to the city that I had planned on going to. Fantastic. All of this info was known a little while ago, but like always- we’re not told anything because East Africans just seem to think that everyone is a mind reader.
So now I am planning on staying in Nairobi, where I can’t actually afford to live, and I don’t have a research topic. Fun.
I immediately decided that the only solution to my new problems was to take shots of whiskey. Too bad it was 9 in the morning and that would be inappropriate. Instead I’m just going to go see The Dark Night, sulk in the fact that I have a worm/amoeba eating through my intestines and doctors won’t help me, and that I am going to be homeless and stupid in a few weeks, and hope that miraculously NGOs, government agencies, and Kenyans start contacting me with the most valuable information in the world so that I can do my project.
On the upside, I found a place with fantastic smoothies and good cheese.
Oh, and tomorrow is my big Swahili test. Have I mentioned how I can't tell one word from the other.
No big deal.
However I do not like the lack of health care and severely lacking communication skills.
Yesterday I made my first ever trip to a hospital. Not that I am actually sick enough to go to the hospital, but quality health care centers aren’t exactly plentiful here in Kenya (even though Nairobi is one of the medical centers of Africa- a somewhat frightening fact). Basically I paid a lot of money ( Kenyan standards which have recently become my own, not at all by American standards) to wait a long time, have my temperature taken, and to be handed a lot of medicine that I’m fairly certain won’t work. I’m pretty sure I have a worm living inside of me, and I’m pretty sure that my new Flora Norm medicine isn’t going to kill the bastard. Oh well. The uncontrollable burp fest that occurred for approximately 20 straight hours (a feat I never imagined possible, but oh it can, and it is not particularly fun), is at least under control for the time being, alleviating my classmates from having the smell the rotten eggs continuously coming out of my mouth. Gross I know; but if I had to suffer through it, so should all of you.
As far as communication skills; Our academic advisor decided to tell us TODAY that next week we are supposed to be going to our research sites to start getting ready for the actual month we are doing research. That means I don't actually have a place to live for a few days next week. In the next breath he also told us that I will not be allowed to go to the city that I had planned on going to. Fantastic. All of this info was known a little while ago, but like always- we’re not told anything because East Africans just seem to think that everyone is a mind reader.
So now I am planning on staying in Nairobi, where I can’t actually afford to live, and I don’t have a research topic. Fun.
I immediately decided that the only solution to my new problems was to take shots of whiskey. Too bad it was 9 in the morning and that would be inappropriate. Instead I’m just going to go see The Dark Night, sulk in the fact that I have a worm/amoeba eating through my intestines and doctors won’t help me, and that I am going to be homeless and stupid in a few weeks, and hope that miraculously NGOs, government agencies, and Kenyans start contacting me with the most valuable information in the world so that I can do my project.
On the upside, I found a place with fantastic smoothies and good cheese.
Oh, and tomorrow is my big Swahili test. Have I mentioned how I can't tell one word from the other.
No big deal.
Friday, October 10, 2008
Obama The Musical
Yes, it's true folks. Now in addition to the numerous Obama bumper stickers, Obama t-shirts, the smiling face of Obama on the backs of Kenya's matatus (East Africa's answer to lack of public transportation and a scary, scary adventure), and the already popular Obama reggae song on the radio, Nairobi is now adding Obama: The Musical to the list of items.
Thursday, October 9, 2008
My First Jewish Holiday
I finally got over the fact that my parents were not going to send me to public school when I was about 15. It may have taken a long time, but I realized that the bomb threats and gang violence were probably excellent reasons I shouldn't attend Longwood. However, I still have not gotten over the fact that all those years when the Jewish holidays came about, I was still putting on my ridiculously stereotypical Catholic school girl uniform. Never mind the fact that Catholics enjoyed many more religious holidays, and usually at better times (such as the day after Halloween, which would have been my favorite had my parents allowed me to celebrate the holiday), I was jealous that Long Island was full of Jews and that they and their friends didn't have to go to school.
Who would have thought that I would travel across the world, to a nation where many people don't even know that Judaism exists (and if they do are shocked at the fact that people actually follow it), and have my first Jewish holiday. My program is filled with Jews, and unlike my days on Long Island, I am now enjoying the fruits of it.
I was even going to go to the temple services with them (although I have a feeling that going to a temple in Nairobi is not exactly a great example for my first Jewish experience), but unfortunately my stomach has decided to go haywire for the past week and has experienced every possible ailment known for a stomach, on a rotating schedule that I haven't quite figured out. So instead of enjoying my first Jewish holiday, instead I lay in bed and watched the best of Jennifer Lopez and Kate Winslet, because China has poured the best DVDs into Kenyan society that include 36 movies on one DVD, and have titles like "Lopez vs. Winslet". I love it. Now I can watch Monster in Law and Quills without ever having to get up to change the disc. I've also caught up on all the sleep I lost when I decided to have a sleepover to watch the debate and pig out on American food. I would like to think we got up to watch it because we like to be informed citizens who care about what is going on in the world, but really I think we just wanted an excuse for an Oreo overload and a feta cheese fest.
Of course it was also nice to actually see the candidates, and not just read the newspapers in a country where most people have decided Obama is already president, and that there is nothing wrong with him (ask someone if they know his views and policies you'll get a mighty laugh). This is the country that just deported the author of an anti-Obama book and didn't even really attempt to hide that it was for bogus reasons. You gotta love corruption and government organizations that make up their own rules on each of their whims.
Hope all is well in America and that the economy hasn't completely collapsed yet. It really stinks to see prices rising in Kenya and the cereal that I had put off buying because I wanted to save it until I really craved it, is now actually almost out of my price range. That being said, my price range has radically changed in a country where I can easily live off of nothing, and spending the equivalent of $5 is absolutely appalling and almost unconscionable.
Who would have thought that I would travel across the world, to a nation where many people don't even know that Judaism exists (and if they do are shocked at the fact that people actually follow it), and have my first Jewish holiday. My program is filled with Jews, and unlike my days on Long Island, I am now enjoying the fruits of it.
I was even going to go to the temple services with them (although I have a feeling that going to a temple in Nairobi is not exactly a great example for my first Jewish experience), but unfortunately my stomach has decided to go haywire for the past week and has experienced every possible ailment known for a stomach, on a rotating schedule that I haven't quite figured out. So instead of enjoying my first Jewish holiday, instead I lay in bed and watched the best of Jennifer Lopez and Kate Winslet, because China has poured the best DVDs into Kenyan society that include 36 movies on one DVD, and have titles like "Lopez vs. Winslet". I love it. Now I can watch Monster in Law and Quills without ever having to get up to change the disc. I've also caught up on all the sleep I lost when I decided to have a sleepover to watch the debate and pig out on American food. I would like to think we got up to watch it because we like to be informed citizens who care about what is going on in the world, but really I think we just wanted an excuse for an Oreo overload and a feta cheese fest.
Of course it was also nice to actually see the candidates, and not just read the newspapers in a country where most people have decided Obama is already president, and that there is nothing wrong with him (ask someone if they know his views and policies you'll get a mighty laugh). This is the country that just deported the author of an anti-Obama book and didn't even really attempt to hide that it was for bogus reasons. You gotta love corruption and government organizations that make up their own rules on each of their whims.
Hope all is well in America and that the economy hasn't completely collapsed yet. It really stinks to see prices rising in Kenya and the cereal that I had put off buying because I wanted to save it until I really craved it, is now actually almost out of my price range. That being said, my price range has radically changed in a country where I can easily live off of nothing, and spending the equivalent of $5 is absolutely appalling and almost unconscionable.
Sunday, October 5, 2008
Thumbs Up for Escaping Marriage
The Swahili language is impossible. The language is actually extremely easy, with possibly the most basic grammatical rules of any language, but EVERY word sounds exactly alike.
For example: One could say nyoko or nyoka. One means snake, the other to abuse. Don't ask me which one is which because I still can't tell. Kumi means 10 and kuma means something that would be too inappropriate to post.
My personal favorite was when I was trying to say "Ningependa kuenda kuogelea." Instead I said "Ningependa kuenda kuolea". My sentence changed from "I would like to go swimming" to "I would like to go get married."
Not the greatest thing to say when you are in a very remote village, where a marriage for me could have easily been set up. Personally I don't think I could take on the duties expected of a Muslim wife in the middle of nowhere.
Other than those slight language glitches, the fact that I couldn't speak to my Mama or Grandmother at all, and how I was pretty clueless the first couple of days concerning how to act, dress, and where I should go to the bathroom my village stay was wonderful. I would go back immediately if I could, and if it weren't blistering hot all the time with terrible humidity. But then again, I was able to bathe under the stars and go skinny dipping off a deserted island in the Indian Ocean. Life could be a worse.
I just happened to be there during Ramadan, the holiest month of the year for Muslims and also a month of fasting. So every morning, anytime between 2 and 4 I had some nice knocks on my bedroom door and my Baba calling out "Mog" to wake me up. I'll never understand the food choices- steaming hot ugali (maize floor and water boiled together) so that I couldn't even eat it without burning my hands, and cold fish. Why one thing could be heated and not the other will be a burning question that I just don't think will ever be answered. I will also never understand why I now have henna all over my feet and hands, and my nails will be bright orange for the next few months in celebration of the end of Ramadan.
I loved my family, and even tho we couldn't really talk we got used to each other pretty quickly, and soon I was realizing that they weren't kicking me out of the kitchen area to go on a walk with my 12 year old uncle/cousin because they didn't love me, but rather because my American cooking skills pale in comparison with the work they do. I was put on child duty all the time, and that mostly consisted of me giving them my camera and letting them play with it. I couldn't figure out who exactly was related to me, but I got used to a core group of people that continuously liked to laugh at me and my inability to speak to them.
They also all wanted me to fast, and when me just saying "No, I'm not Muslim" didn't work, I attempted the "Well, I have to take medicine every day, and eat when I take it, so I can't fast." The village then thought I had malaria, and it took a few days to dispel that myth. The idea of ANTI-malaria medication just was not something my limited Kiswahili was going to express.
We also spent a few days in Mombasa where I didn't do much more than catch up on my ice cream intake, and eat so much food that I have made myself sick.
Now we're back in Nairobi, where I am appreciating my wireless internet and connection to world news more than ever. The lack of humidity is also doing wonders for my hair, which I woke up one morning needing to cut immediately. So I did, and now I have no hair.
Here are some limited pictures of my family I lived with. Hopefully I will be able to add some more in the next few days.
For example: One could say nyoko or nyoka. One means snake, the other to abuse. Don't ask me which one is which because I still can't tell. Kumi means 10 and kuma means something that would be too inappropriate to post.
My personal favorite was when I was trying to say "Ningependa kuenda kuogelea." Instead I said "Ningependa kuenda kuolea". My sentence changed from "I would like to go swimming" to "I would like to go get married."
Not the greatest thing to say when you are in a very remote village, where a marriage for me could have easily been set up. Personally I don't think I could take on the duties expected of a Muslim wife in the middle of nowhere.
Other than those slight language glitches, the fact that I couldn't speak to my Mama or Grandmother at all, and how I was pretty clueless the first couple of days concerning how to act, dress, and where I should go to the bathroom my village stay was wonderful. I would go back immediately if I could, and if it weren't blistering hot all the time with terrible humidity. But then again, I was able to bathe under the stars and go skinny dipping off a deserted island in the Indian Ocean. Life could be a worse.
I just happened to be there during Ramadan, the holiest month of the year for Muslims and also a month of fasting. So every morning, anytime between 2 and 4 I had some nice knocks on my bedroom door and my Baba calling out "Mog" to wake me up. I'll never understand the food choices- steaming hot ugali (maize floor and water boiled together) so that I couldn't even eat it without burning my hands, and cold fish. Why one thing could be heated and not the other will be a burning question that I just don't think will ever be answered. I will also never understand why I now have henna all over my feet and hands, and my nails will be bright orange for the next few months in celebration of the end of Ramadan.
I loved my family, and even tho we couldn't really talk we got used to each other pretty quickly, and soon I was realizing that they weren't kicking me out of the kitchen area to go on a walk with my 12 year old uncle/cousin because they didn't love me, but rather because my American cooking skills pale in comparison with the work they do. I was put on child duty all the time, and that mostly consisted of me giving them my camera and letting them play with it. I couldn't figure out who exactly was related to me, but I got used to a core group of people that continuously liked to laugh at me and my inability to speak to them.
They also all wanted me to fast, and when me just saying "No, I'm not Muslim" didn't work, I attempted the "Well, I have to take medicine every day, and eat when I take it, so I can't fast." The village then thought I had malaria, and it took a few days to dispel that myth. The idea of ANTI-malaria medication just was not something my limited Kiswahili was going to express.
We also spent a few days in Mombasa where I didn't do much more than catch up on my ice cream intake, and eat so much food that I have made myself sick.
Now we're back in Nairobi, where I am appreciating my wireless internet and connection to world news more than ever. The lack of humidity is also doing wonders for my hair, which I woke up one morning needing to cut immediately. So I did, and now I have no hair.
Here are some limited pictures of my family I lived with. Hopefully I will be able to add some more in the next few days.
Thursday, September 18, 2008
Interesting Cultural Tidbit
If asking men and women if they are married, the word is different. For men, the verb is active and for women it is in the passive form. Men marry a woman, while a woman gets married to a man. Subtle, but begins to show just a bit of the gender inequality over here.
Boo.
Boo.
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