2nd consecutive day of internet and I figure I should make the most of it, regardless of how slow this connection is… never take your high speed wireless for granted!!!
Words are just going to have to suffice until I figure out how to post pictures.. it just won't work at this internet cafe. Please don't die of boredom.
I have survived 7 out of the 7 main forms of transportation in Kenya, and am still alive, praise Jesus. Because TI has no official vehicle, we take the matatus most places, or kanguroos. Friday in town we all piled into the back of a pick up with hand rails on it.. not sure what the official title of that one is. Saturday we went to visit the orphanage TI supports; we got half way there in matatus and the rest of the way on boda bodas, which are bikes with tiny seats on the back. This is particularly fun when all the drivers decide to race each other down a hill and you are hanging off the back of the bike screaming “pole! pole!” (slow) . The public buses here are similar to Costa Rica ones (hot, crowded, with a dash of chaos); the taxis are the fastest and easiest way to go if you’re not by yourself or getting ripped off for being mzungu (white).Yesterday I experienced a piki piki, aka motorcycle, for the first time. This was rather intimidating considering the huge 3rd degree burn Young Lauren has from her leg touching a piki piki’s very hot exhaust pipe last week. I was holding a big roll of posterboard with one hand and the back of the seat with the other, trying to figure out where the pipe was so I wouldn’t get a matching burn. First instinct is to hold on to the drivers’ waist for dear life, but women touching men here is taboo so that’s not an option. At this point you look around at all the other people going way too fast on all different kinds of completely unsafe vehicles, and realize, God exists. The buses here have huge pictures of Jesus’ face on the back and “God We Trust” in big letters, and it is true that if you don’t believe in God by the time you exit the bus alive, something is wrong with you.
Apart from Lauren’s impressive burn (which is uncannily shaped very much like Kenya), everyone is more or less healthy. The malaria meds most people are on help wield off most sicknesses we might otherwise get. Nate and I were playing soccer with the orphanage kids Saturday and he managed to slice the bottoms of both feet open, which is quite inconvenient for all the walking we do around here, but they are healing well and not infected. Old Lauren has ‘wilderness cpr and first aid’ training, which comes in handy at least 3 times a day.
All glory to God: there is a functioning shower. I was preparing myself for 3 months of cold bucket baths. Every morning we pray for lots of rain at the most convenient times of the day so the shower tanks will fill up enough for everyone to shower in the evening. When people are out of water, sometimes the city pumps more into the tanks, and sometimes it doesn’t. Fortunately the last few days of no rain, the pumps have been turned on, always right before we are about to run dry. Everyone takes very quick showers (I try not to turn on the electric water heater because the cold makes me finish faster) and ‘recycles’ a lot of water, ie uses the kitchen water to water plants, or the water we wash clothes in to flush the toilet. ‘If it’s yellow let it mellow, if it’s brown flush it down” definitely applies in these occassions.
The climate here is absolutely amazing. Mornings and evenings are cool, and the days are clear and sunny, now that the rainy season is over. Yet again I realize: I can handle so many things if I have sunshine.
Yesterday we visited the house of Daniel Jouma and his 26 children. He is a former orphan himself, with a wife and 6 biological children, and he started taking in kids 8 years ago. It is ridiculous how smoothly their household runs, how faithfully God provides every single little thing they need, and how happy all the kids are. I asked Daniel if there’s ever any animosity from his own kids towards the foster children, and he said no, they would rather sit on the couch and let the foster kids sit on his lap because they want them to feel how good it is to have a father. All but two of the children are sponsored by people in Canada and Holland.
It is so bittersweet to hear their stories of having absolutely no one and nothing before, and seeing how happy they are to be in this family. There were 2 sisters, 4 and 6, whose parents were both killed in the election violence. Before, they were living in a very nice house in a wealthy neighborhood, and now they are in a tiny hut with 26 other people, but were without a doubt some of the happiest kids there. That is mind boggling to me. Daniel Jouma is also a huge advocate of helping these kids get their inherited land before the government or other family members take it over. One of the boys, Stanley, a 15 year old ex-street kid, recently won a court case fighting to get his land back from his uncle, who tried to claim it after Stanley’s Mum died. It may seem like a silly thing to fight for, but in most cases it is the ONLY thing these kids will ever have to their name, and something they can rent out and have income from later in their adult lives.
Off to get the groceries home. The fridge broke yesterday and we are hoping it can be repaired today vs. buying a whole new one..
Love to you all!
*a
Monday, September 29, 2008
Sunday, September 28, 2008
I. Am. In. Africa.
In one piece, not too jet lagged, and yet to experience the inevitable explosive diarrhea everyone says you get in your first few days here (very excited about that one).
The trip here was incredibly long but fine. I was able to get my visa, track down my bag, and find Meredith (from TI) in 2 hours (1 hrour, 58 minutes spent in line for the visa).
Funny story: Meredith e.mailed Sunday before I left saying “see you tomorrow!” I was confused, considering I wasn’t taking off till Monday night, but my very intelligent sister chalked it up to gaining time crossing the date line. Fast forward 24 hours to plane ride#2, winding my watch to Nairobi time, and watching in horror as the date dial turned from the 23rd to 24th. Knowing I was leaving the 22nd and the trip was 2around 24 hours, I’d told Meredith I’d arrive the 23rd , not realizing you actually LOSE a bunch of time crossing that dumb date line. So, she waited an entire 24 hours for me. Imagine my parents surprise when Daniel (from TI) called only 2 hours after I’d taken off, asking where I was! They said they were pretty sure my plane wasn’t that fast. The moral of this story is, I am an idiot with time zones, and Meredith is a saint to wait for me.
From the airport, we took a taxi to downtown Nairobi and got a matatu (shuttle with 12+ passengers) to Elduret. 4 police stops and 6 hours of reckless driving later, we hauled my 50 pound bag through the dusty streets of Elduret and boarded a kangaroo (6+ person matatu) to Kitale. From Kitale, TI’s trusty taxi driver, Peter, picked us up and drove us to the compound, where I was greeted by my new family for the next 3 months:
Daniel, who runs TI; his younger brother Andrew and friend Nate, both 18 and from Nevada; Sean, Meredith’s fiancé from Ontario; “Big Lauren” and “Little Lauren”, both from Texas; and Ina, 25, from Finland. It is apparently a universal truth that wherever I go in the world, I meet a fantastic Finn, and Ina is no exception.
Yesterday the two of us ran a few miles on the lumpy red dirt roads around the base. At one point a group of little kids ran with us but got bored when they realized how slow we were. Later we passed an old woman sauntering down the road with a basket on her head. She looked at us oddly and said, “Why you running?” and started laughing.
Currently there is a team of 6 “elderly folks” (over 50) from Toronto here helping with projects. This week they are working on food distribution at a nearby slum. This means my first day here was spent taking 120 200-pound bags of corn out of the garage and dividing each one into two 100-pound bags. After lunch and a downpour, we did the same thing with 100 200lb bags of beans. Almost 50,000 pounds we were working with, and everything was done with plain old elbow grease in the hot sun. Everyone’s fingers are raw from grabbing so much burlap and twine, but Friday made everything worth it.
We spent the morning in a neighborhood where most of the women are widows due to AIDS or post-election violence, and there are a few children with both parents gone because of one or the other. When we got out of the matutu, all the women stood up and started dancing and shouting and clapping and singing, shaking our hands and kissing and hugging us, saying ‘sante, sante!’ (thank you). What I felt just then was inexplicable: I think all the interns were surprised at how emotional it made us.
The names of the neediest women were called (160 in all) and they lined up to get blankets, beans, and corn, and we prayed for each one before they left. Based on the extent of my sunburn, it must’ve been quite hot and sunny but we were so busy praying for and talking to these people, I didn’t notice anything else around us. I can only imagine the lives they have lived and the devastation they’ve experienced this last year.
The evidence of the post-election violence earlier this year is still very obvious in the Rift Valley. On the way to Kitale I saw four different IDP camps, countless brick house skeletons blackened by smoke, and rows of businesses closed, gutted, or burnt to the ground. The current crisis is that many of the country’s maize reserves were also destroyed, as well as this years’ crops. Combine that with the oncoming dry season, and there are actually people starving to death in Kenya, which is both sobering and something that has never been a problem here before. But I guess that’s why it’s so sweet to be passing out 50,000 pounds of food to people.
In cheerier news, I have a mobile number to text (calling is spendy): 0011254715222112
and an address to send mail to (takes 1 to 4 weeks):
Andrea Day
c/o Transformed Intl.
PO Box 815
Kitale, Kenya
This blog was meant to have pictures, but due to unbelievably slow internet, I am going to have to scheme up some alternative methods to get them on here. Soon, very soon!
I miss you all, but I can’t lie; it is fantastic to finally be here.
Hope everyone is well!
Lots of love,
*a
The trip here was incredibly long but fine. I was able to get my visa, track down my bag, and find Meredith (from TI) in 2 hours (1 hrour, 58 minutes spent in line for the visa).
Funny story: Meredith e.mailed Sunday before I left saying “see you tomorrow!” I was confused, considering I wasn’t taking off till Monday night, but my very intelligent sister chalked it up to gaining time crossing the date line. Fast forward 24 hours to plane ride#2, winding my watch to Nairobi time, and watching in horror as the date dial turned from the 23rd to 24th. Knowing I was leaving the 22nd and the trip was 2around 24 hours, I’d told Meredith I’d arrive the 23rd , not realizing you actually LOSE a bunch of time crossing that dumb date line. So, she waited an entire 24 hours for me. Imagine my parents surprise when Daniel (from TI) called only 2 hours after I’d taken off, asking where I was! They said they were pretty sure my plane wasn’t that fast. The moral of this story is, I am an idiot with time zones, and Meredith is a saint to wait for me.
From the airport, we took a taxi to downtown Nairobi and got a matatu (shuttle with 12+ passengers) to Elduret. 4 police stops and 6 hours of reckless driving later, we hauled my 50 pound bag through the dusty streets of Elduret and boarded a kangaroo (6+ person matatu) to Kitale. From Kitale, TI’s trusty taxi driver, Peter, picked us up and drove us to the compound, where I was greeted by my new family for the next 3 months:
Daniel, who runs TI; his younger brother Andrew and friend Nate, both 18 and from Nevada; Sean, Meredith’s fiancé from Ontario; “Big Lauren” and “Little Lauren”, both from Texas; and Ina, 25, from Finland. It is apparently a universal truth that wherever I go in the world, I meet a fantastic Finn, and Ina is no exception.
Yesterday the two of us ran a few miles on the lumpy red dirt roads around the base. At one point a group of little kids ran with us but got bored when they realized how slow we were. Later we passed an old woman sauntering down the road with a basket on her head. She looked at us oddly and said, “Why you running?” and started laughing.
Currently there is a team of 6 “elderly folks” (over 50) from Toronto here helping with projects. This week they are working on food distribution at a nearby slum. This means my first day here was spent taking 120 200-pound bags of corn out of the garage and dividing each one into two 100-pound bags. After lunch and a downpour, we did the same thing with 100 200lb bags of beans. Almost 50,000 pounds we were working with, and everything was done with plain old elbow grease in the hot sun. Everyone’s fingers are raw from grabbing so much burlap and twine, but Friday made everything worth it.
We spent the morning in a neighborhood where most of the women are widows due to AIDS or post-election violence, and there are a few children with both parents gone because of one or the other. When we got out of the matutu, all the women stood up and started dancing and shouting and clapping and singing, shaking our hands and kissing and hugging us, saying ‘sante, sante!’ (thank you). What I felt just then was inexplicable: I think all the interns were surprised at how emotional it made us.
The names of the neediest women were called (160 in all) and they lined up to get blankets, beans, and corn, and we prayed for each one before they left. Based on the extent of my sunburn, it must’ve been quite hot and sunny but we were so busy praying for and talking to these people, I didn’t notice anything else around us. I can only imagine the lives they have lived and the devastation they’ve experienced this last year.
The evidence of the post-election violence earlier this year is still very obvious in the Rift Valley. On the way to Kitale I saw four different IDP camps, countless brick house skeletons blackened by smoke, and rows of businesses closed, gutted, or burnt to the ground. The current crisis is that many of the country’s maize reserves were also destroyed, as well as this years’ crops. Combine that with the oncoming dry season, and there are actually people starving to death in Kenya, which is both sobering and something that has never been a problem here before. But I guess that’s why it’s so sweet to be passing out 50,000 pounds of food to people.
In cheerier news, I have a mobile number to text (calling is spendy): 0011254715222112
and an address to send mail to (takes 1 to 4 weeks):
Andrea Day
c/o Transformed Intl.
PO Box 815
Kitale, Kenya
This blog was meant to have pictures, but due to unbelievably slow internet, I am going to have to scheme up some alternative methods to get them on here. Soon, very soon!
I miss you all, but I can’t lie; it is fantastic to finally be here.
Hope everyone is well!
Lots of love,
*a
Sunday, September 21, 2008
22 Hours and 15 Minutes.
Supposedly how long it will take me to get from Seattle to Heathrow to Nairobi..
Here is a map of Kenya for your viewing pleasure.. 22 hours of airplanes will get me to the capital city of Nairobi, and 8 hours in bus will (hopefully) have me in Kitale, on the northwest side near Uganda. Also very close to the equator, which I like very much considering the Bellingham fall/winter downpours are starting already.
ETA in Kitale is sometime mid-Tuesday. I smell major jet lag. Still jet lagged from France but so excited to get going! 2 years ago I would've paid good money just to stay far, far away from Africa. It took hearing a 70-year old Australian granny talk about living there for the last 20 years and the enormous amount of need this entire continent has to change my mind. All of a sudden I was not okay just giving her some money to feed a few hungry kids; I felt something asking me if I had some great excuse why I couldn't go over and do something about the situation myself.
And I didn't.
So here I go!
More later from the other side of the world!
*a
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