So yesterday was a very interesting and exhausting and wonderful day. First off, just an amusing little tidbit...I went to take my bucket shower yesterday morning as usual, leaving the bucket of water in the shower stall while I went away for a minute to put on my towel. And when I came back, I discovered that one of our cows had drunk up ALL my bathwater!! Those damn cows will eat or drink ANYTHING! They even attempted to eat my underwear off the laundry line this morning! Nothing is safe around a cow.
Also, I have successfully made friends with our cat, who I decided to name Baba Ghanoush. He will now come and cuddle with me, and even likes to scare me by climbing up the inside of my curtains and then jumping on me while I'm lying in bed. I loooove having a kitty to cuddle with again!
So on to the main event. Yesterday was the day of the much anticipated Sauri blood drive I have been helping to plan and advertise for in the villages surrounding my house. The Sauri cluster of villages is HUGE, so we had decided to launch this initiative in just a small area at first to see how many people we could get to come and donate blood. The villages included were Bar Sauri and Nyamninia (where I live).
Blood donation is a big deal around here because so many people need transfusions (children with malaria and women who give birth in the clinics in particular). However, people are scared to donate for numerous reasons: they think we will sell the blood, they think the needles are tainted with HIV, they think we are secretly trying to test them for HIV, they claim they don't have enough blood in their bodies, etc. It's difficult to get people to come and donate! The last blood drive they attempted here got only 5 people to come. ONLY FIVE PEOPLE. There are several thousand living in the Sauri cluster, so it was a spectacular failure. This time, however, we mobilized within the villages themselves. We attended church meetings and sang and danced with the members, then the bishop would let us distribute fliers and he would translate from English into Luo so everyone understood us. We went to community meetings and talked to the men and women there. We went to the local high school and talked about the importance of donating blood. We went to the clinic and explained to all the women bringing in their children that their blood could save the life of their child. We also got the Community Health Workers to talk about the drive during their normal rounds. We worked SO HARD. And guess what...
It payed off!! We got 106 people to donate yesterday!! And even more WANTED to give blood, but we actually ran out of blood bags to take it with! It was a huge huge success, and now the villages here have enough blood to last them an entire year. It's truly amazing how just a little extra effort and understanding of how people think can make all the difference.
I am feeling very good about my work out here, but these days I and most of the other MSID students are getting really disillusioned with the MSID program and how it is managed in general. Details will bore you, but I'm really starting to wish that I was here of my own accord rather than under the hands of Minnesota. They have no idea how to REALLY allow us to get the most out of our time here. It's so so frustrating and I just hope it all gets resolved soon.
Tata for now! Lanzy
Friday, February 13, 2009
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Disillusioned...
It's been a rough few weeks.
What with some of my closest friends leaving, being mugged, being sick (again), the difficult travels all the time from my rural home to Kisumu, adjusting to a new place and a new family, and just the daily harassment for simply being a white girl in Africa. I'm EXHAUSTED!!
Yesterday, after a difficult overnight bus trip from Nairobi, I arrived in Kisumu at 5:15am. I slept for an hour in the bus company waiting room with 10 or so other people, then searched for some food, then went straight to work. I was at work from 7am-4pm straight through. You can imagine how tired I was, and I felt a bad headache coming on. But I had to get my butt back to the rural home before dark. So I got on a matatu.
I F**KING HATE MATATUS!!!!!!
The asshole conductor took my money and then REFUSED to give me my change. Even though he, I, and everyone else in a 100 meter radius knew he was overcharging me. I must've argued for 10 minutes, but he refused to give it back. And I knew that if I got out and tried to find another one, the word would spread and I might have to pay even more. So I stayed put and gave that f**ker my death glare. He was unfazed, which pissed me off even more. I was actually about to start crying from the frustration, and probably would have had I not needed to yell and slam my window shut on guys trying to sell me crap.
I'm sick of being ripped off all the time, I'm sick of being called "mzungu!" and "hey white lady!", I'm sick of being asked to make Obamas, I'm sick of being touched inappropriately whenever I'm in a crowd. Basically, I'M SICK OF AFRICAN MEN. I miss being able to walk down the street and have NO ONE speak to me! Even when I got home and was swearing and half-crying under my breath as I walked to the house, all the little children and kids getting out of school were yelling out to me. I feel I HAVE to answer them (even though Ken assures me I don't). I don't want to be that asshole white girl who is so rude she won't say hi. But can you imagine just really needing to be left alone, needing to just cry and yell and let it out...and having people expect you stop and chat with them every 2 seconds?? OY GAVALT!! FREAKIN AFRICA!!
So yes, I had my big moment of disillusionment. I had my "WHAT THE FUCK AM I DOING HERE??" freak out. I think I did pretty good lasting 5 months before having one! But now I'm going to make a list of the 10 things I love most about being here and things I still have to look forward to before I leave in May. That way, I can look at it everytime I'm feeling like I want to scratch the matatu guys' eyes out or curse and swear at a bunch of kids to just leave me alone. Haha. (I'm serious about the matatu guys though. One of these days...)
WHY I LOVE KENYA
1. My mom is coming to visit in just over 2 weeks!
2. I'm going to CAIRO for Spring Break to see Jesse and Anna.
3. The Lisa Frank-esque rainbow I see everytime I go back to my rural home in the late afternoon (it rains over the mountains around 4 everyday, creating the most gorgeous rainbow you've EVER seen...I swear I see leprechauns and unicorns dancing around the base). And the rain itself, cause it's always a fabulous lightning storm here!
4. Our cat at the rural home, who I call Kitty, who is just starting to trust me and likes to take naps with one of our dogs. And the cows and chickens in my yard who wake me up every morning and never fail to amuse.
5. My Sauri, Nairobi and Mombasa-(minus the dad)-families...and Ken of course.
6. Going out to shake-shake (aka DANCING), and having everyone say "are you SURE you're white?".
7. Paying the equivalent of about $3.50 for a movie, a hot dog, a big popcorn, and a big soda.
8. Piki-piki rides! (Motorbikes). Especially at night when I can look at the perfect perfect stars.
9. Learning how to cook African food...and having everyone be super impressed when I make cookies out of a Betty Crocker bag.
10. Having micro-braids...cause I haven't had to wash my hair in over 3 weeks!
What with some of my closest friends leaving, being mugged, being sick (again), the difficult travels all the time from my rural home to Kisumu, adjusting to a new place and a new family, and just the daily harassment for simply being a white girl in Africa. I'm EXHAUSTED!!
Yesterday, after a difficult overnight bus trip from Nairobi, I arrived in Kisumu at 5:15am. I slept for an hour in the bus company waiting room with 10 or so other people, then searched for some food, then went straight to work. I was at work from 7am-4pm straight through. You can imagine how tired I was, and I felt a bad headache coming on. But I had to get my butt back to the rural home before dark. So I got on a matatu.
I F**KING HATE MATATUS!!!!!!
The asshole conductor took my money and then REFUSED to give me my change. Even though he, I, and everyone else in a 100 meter radius knew he was overcharging me. I must've argued for 10 minutes, but he refused to give it back. And I knew that if I got out and tried to find another one, the word would spread and I might have to pay even more. So I stayed put and gave that f**ker my death glare. He was unfazed, which pissed me off even more. I was actually about to start crying from the frustration, and probably would have had I not needed to yell and slam my window shut on guys trying to sell me crap.
I'm sick of being ripped off all the time, I'm sick of being called "mzungu!" and "hey white lady!", I'm sick of being asked to make Obamas, I'm sick of being touched inappropriately whenever I'm in a crowd. Basically, I'M SICK OF AFRICAN MEN. I miss being able to walk down the street and have NO ONE speak to me! Even when I got home and was swearing and half-crying under my breath as I walked to the house, all the little children and kids getting out of school were yelling out to me. I feel I HAVE to answer them (even though Ken assures me I don't). I don't want to be that asshole white girl who is so rude she won't say hi. But can you imagine just really needing to be left alone, needing to just cry and yell and let it out...and having people expect you stop and chat with them every 2 seconds?? OY GAVALT!! FREAKIN AFRICA!!
So yes, I had my big moment of disillusionment. I had my "WHAT THE FUCK AM I DOING HERE??" freak out. I think I did pretty good lasting 5 months before having one! But now I'm going to make a list of the 10 things I love most about being here and things I still have to look forward to before I leave in May. That way, I can look at it everytime I'm feeling like I want to scratch the matatu guys' eyes out or curse and swear at a bunch of kids to just leave me alone. Haha. (I'm serious about the matatu guys though. One of these days...)
WHY I LOVE KENYA
1. My mom is coming to visit in just over 2 weeks!
2. I'm going to CAIRO for Spring Break to see Jesse and Anna.
3. The Lisa Frank-esque rainbow I see everytime I go back to my rural home in the late afternoon (it rains over the mountains around 4 everyday, creating the most gorgeous rainbow you've EVER seen...I swear I see leprechauns and unicorns dancing around the base). And the rain itself, cause it's always a fabulous lightning storm here!
4. Our cat at the rural home, who I call Kitty, who is just starting to trust me and likes to take naps with one of our dogs. And the cows and chickens in my yard who wake me up every morning and never fail to amuse.
5. My Sauri, Nairobi and Mombasa-(minus the dad)-families...and Ken of course.
6. Going out to shake-shake (aka DANCING), and having everyone say "are you SURE you're white?".
7. Paying the equivalent of about $3.50 for a movie, a hot dog, a big popcorn, and a big soda.
8. Piki-piki rides! (Motorbikes). Especially at night when I can look at the perfect perfect stars.
9. Learning how to cook African food...and having everyone be super impressed when I make cookies out of a Betty Crocker bag.
10. Having micro-braids...cause I haven't had to wash my hair in over 3 weeks!
Monday, January 26, 2009
$$$ issues
Okay, so first off I want to say that YAY SARA IS FINALLY IN KENYA AND I'LL BE GOIN TO SEE HER IN A WEEK OR TWO!! For those of you who don't know, Sara is a friend from Wisco who has been in Belgium all last semester, but now she's here on the same program as me! Psyched to have her here and be able to show her around. :)
Now, on to the subject of this post. I assume you all know that my wallet was stolen a couple weeks ago--along with my Visa card and my ATM card. So I've had no way to pull out any money since then. Thankfully my mom wired me some bills that have been more than enough, but I have to budget the money until my new ATM card gets here. It puts a new spin on my thought process whenever somebody asks me for something now.
One thing that you may not know about African culture (not trying to generalize, its just that I've seen it in every country I've been to), is that people here have no shame in asking you to give them things. Even well-off people will ask...or rather tell...you to give them things. They want money, they want food, they want your iPod, they want your clothes, etc. No shame whatsoever! It's probably the single most off-putting thing an American will experience here, because to us, begging is shameful, and there is even shame is asking politely to borrow something! Think about it! We're always soo soooooo careful when asking to borrow something from a friend. And if we don't bother to ask that person we took from, even if it's our best friend, they will get really really mad.
Living in Nairobi and Mombasa was different because, a). I always had access to money with my ATM card, and b). yes, people need help, but in the cities it's not as widespread as in the rural areas. There was a level of guilt associated with it for the first few months. But then the cultural difference in how people beg started getting to me. I know things are lost in translation, and in Swahili it's not rude to say "nipe pesa", meaning "give me money". But of course, if someone comes up to you and in English says, "you give me that shirt" or "give me money, mzungu"......well, it feels rude and you get mad!
I had learned to tune it out, but now that I actually CAN'T give out money (because, let's be honest, I normally could afford to give away something small), I feel even more violated because people see my skin color and EVERYONE just comes straight to me. And I actually don't have anything now! Yesterday I was stuck sitting in a matatu in Kisumu for 1 1/2 hours waiting for it to fill up so I could go home. I was sitting in the front seat next to the window, and I had to almost FIGHT people away from my window. At one point, I got so sick of it, that I spent 5 minutes explaining to one guy why it's really rude to say "mzungu, give me money". At the end, he laughed and then said "okay mzungu, please will you give me that Obama pin?" I had a few pinned onto my bag. I figured, okay, that was relatively polite (though I still hate being called Mzungu), and gave him one pin. He'll love it forever and maybe now he'll remember to say please.
Anyway, in the rural areas, I get it three-fold compared to the cities because just about everyone here could use a few extra shillings. I'm really tired of it. Today I walked around with my iPod on to try and block it out just for a little while. Unfortunately, then they wanted my iPod.
ARRRGGHHH!!! Okay, I feel a bit better now. But man oh man, will I be glad to get back to certain American social standards in a few months! There is something to be said for our isolated, unfriendly, personal space bubble culture at times!
Now, on to the subject of this post. I assume you all know that my wallet was stolen a couple weeks ago--along with my Visa card and my ATM card. So I've had no way to pull out any money since then. Thankfully my mom wired me some bills that have been more than enough, but I have to budget the money until my new ATM card gets here. It puts a new spin on my thought process whenever somebody asks me for something now.
One thing that you may not know about African culture (not trying to generalize, its just that I've seen it in every country I've been to), is that people here have no shame in asking you to give them things. Even well-off people will ask...or rather tell...you to give them things. They want money, they want food, they want your iPod, they want your clothes, etc. No shame whatsoever! It's probably the single most off-putting thing an American will experience here, because to us, begging is shameful, and there is even shame is asking politely to borrow something! Think about it! We're always soo soooooo careful when asking to borrow something from a friend. And if we don't bother to ask that person we took from, even if it's our best friend, they will get really really mad.
Living in Nairobi and Mombasa was different because, a). I always had access to money with my ATM card, and b). yes, people need help, but in the cities it's not as widespread as in the rural areas. There was a level of guilt associated with it for the first few months. But then the cultural difference in how people beg started getting to me. I know things are lost in translation, and in Swahili it's not rude to say "nipe pesa", meaning "give me money". But of course, if someone comes up to you and in English says, "you give me that shirt" or "give me money, mzungu"......well, it feels rude and you get mad!
I had learned to tune it out, but now that I actually CAN'T give out money (because, let's be honest, I normally could afford to give away something small), I feel even more violated because people see my skin color and EVERYONE just comes straight to me. And I actually don't have anything now! Yesterday I was stuck sitting in a matatu in Kisumu for 1 1/2 hours waiting for it to fill up so I could go home. I was sitting in the front seat next to the window, and I had to almost FIGHT people away from my window. At one point, I got so sick of it, that I spent 5 minutes explaining to one guy why it's really rude to say "mzungu, give me money". At the end, he laughed and then said "okay mzungu, please will you give me that Obama pin?" I had a few pinned onto my bag. I figured, okay, that was relatively polite (though I still hate being called Mzungu), and gave him one pin. He'll love it forever and maybe now he'll remember to say please.
Anyway, in the rural areas, I get it three-fold compared to the cities because just about everyone here could use a few extra shillings. I'm really tired of it. Today I walked around with my iPod on to try and block it out just for a little while. Unfortunately, then they wanted my iPod.
ARRRGGHHH!!! Okay, I feel a bit better now. But man oh man, will I be glad to get back to certain American social standards in a few months! There is something to be said for our isolated, unfriendly, personal space bubble culture at times!
Saturday, January 24, 2009
cool little tidbit
I have to cross over the equator when traveling between Kisumu and my rural home. How sweet is that?? I LIVE ON THE EQUATOR! Guess this means I'll be rockin the daily SPF 45, lol.
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
...to the smallest village, where my father was born
In the land of Obama, the American is queen.
Okeedokee, so I have now moved from Nairobi out to a little village in Nyanza Province called Sauri. I love love loooooove my new home! I'm living with an older couple, dad is a retired meteorologist and mom is a Community Health Worker (CHW) in the area. They have 7 children, but none of them are at home currently, so it's mostly just me, them, and all the visitors we usually have! Our home is RURAL. It's about a 10 minute walk from the main road to Kisumu, up in the green countryside through winding dirt roads. In our yard we have cows and chickens running around! There is a little main house, two smaller houses (called simbas, which are built for the married boys), another guest house for the girls, and a block of rooms for the animals, including another kitchen with a fire place and stone blocks for cooking on! I live in the main house with my parents. It's a small concrete structure, but very cozy on the inside, with a (relatively) big living room, a small dining room, a kitchen and pantry, 2 bedrooms and a storage room. I live in a small bedroom that is just perfect for me! A big bed, cabinet (with full length mirror--shocker!!) and a little table to put all my stuff on. It's very cute and just what I need after bedroom-switching everytime I'm back in Nairobi. We have electricity in the house, which no one else in the village has, so I'm very very lucky! There is running water....outside. We have a tap that I can use to get all the water I need for my bucket shower. We just heat it up over a fire before I go use it in the outdoor shower room. And our toilet is a latrine outside, but they have converted the squat toilet into a sitting one by adding a cement block and an actual toilet seat to it! Very crafty! It's mildly disconcerting when I'm showering or otherwise and giant moths are trying to dive-bomb me, but all-in-all, it's not bad.
My internship has not officially started yet because there was all this paperwork I had to do that had been overlooked, so I'm working on getting that done and officializing my stay here. Hopefully it comes through quickly, seeing as my time here is limited! All this red tape is really annoying. I don't see why they find it so necessary, considering that Jeff Sachs himself has already approved me for the project. But they just loooooove "procedure" here in Kenya...even when it prohibits me from being a useful member of the Millennium Villages team. I'm here, MVP! USE ME! LET ME WORK!!!!!
Oh yeah, did I even tell you what I'll be doing? Well, I'm working in the ORIGINAL millennium village: Sauri, Kenya. The Millennium Village Project is a spin-off from the larger Millennium Development Goals initiative. Basically, they are using rural villages across Africa as models of how to properly implement the MDGs to improve quality of life in poverty-stricken areas. Go to the website if you want to hear more about the goals and how they're progressing: http://www.endpoverty2015.org/. But anywho, Sauri was the first MV to be established, about 5 years ago. It has been a great model for the MDGs and quite successful in its initiatives. I'm going to (hopefully) be working on several different projects.
1) Working with a local school that recently received a computer lab, training the teachers & students in ICT and doing research on how to best utilize this resource for the best education of the students.
2) Working on a school to school initiative that will partner MV schools with schools in the US for a mutual learning commitment to each other.
3) I'll also be, unofficially, assiting with some medical team projects, which are currently TBD.
The third thing is what I've been doing this week, as I'm not yet approved to work in the schools here. I assisted with an HIV/AIDS training seminar for some local CHWs on Monday, and now I'm doing research for a triage project in the rural clincs. I'm loving the work so far and the people I'll be working with are fantastic, so it's looking very promising! I only wish I had been doing this work since the beginning so I could have been here for a longer time!
Now, something you may not know about the Kisumu area is that, just about 2 hours from town (one hour from the village where I live) is the home of Obama's father--where his grandmother and other relatives still live! This is the HEART of Obamaland! So you can imagine I was completely stoked to be here for his inauguration. Anywhere in Kenya, white people (not just Americans) get cat-called about Obama. But in Kisumu, it's NEVERENDING! People are sooooo excited to be a part of it. They all yell out "Oh, sista Obama!" "We make Obamas together!" "Obama Obama Obama!" "Mzungu, Obama, yes we can!". It's pretty funny, but I'm sure will get tiring after a few weeks. Maybe the fervor will start to die down now, though I doubt it! Anyway, I made the long and sometimes treacherous journey into town from my home yesterday morning. I say treacherous because, though usually it's fine, I happened to be in a matatu yesterday that had the brakes fail halfway through the trip! And I was in what we call the "death seat", aka the front middle seat with no seatbelts. But did that stop this vehicle from continuing? Nope! They really take this "yes we can!" attitude to the limit. The driver just would casually shift into first gear and put on the emergency brake anytime a stop was required. I was scared shitless, but what can you do? If I got out I'd have to pay for ANOTHER one, which may not come for another 10-30 minutes. I figured we were pretty close, and matatus always suck, so I'd just stick it out and get to Kisumu as fast as possible. Anyway, we made it without other mishaps, thank god. I went to the MVP offices for a while to do some paperwork, then I met up with Andre, Ashley, Jen, her husband Ben, and Dan to head to Sports Grounds. That's this big arena in town where they had set up huge screens to view the inauguration, and you can get well priced drinks and food there. Unfortunately, though predicatably, Sports Grounds was a MADHOUSE. There were thousands of Kenyans running around and screaming and dancing in celebration for Obama! It was NUTS. In the end, we moved to the Imperial Hotel across the street to watch. That was a lot more pleasant and easier to see and hear at. We watched everything go down in a very plush lounge with a nice, big flatscreen. At the same time, we could hear the multiple echoes of the TVs in Sports Grounds, so that we heard everything that was said three times! We also could hear the crowds cheering insanely...especially at the part where Obama mentioned Kogelo, his father's village. The screaming and cheering at that part (which is the title of this post) was INSANE!
After the inauguration speech (which made me cry, btw), a few of us really wanted to go back to Sports Grounds to celebrate with everyone there. So we dropped off some of our bags at the hotel desk and headed over. Almost immediatley, we were MOBBED by people! I guess at that point, nearly all the women had already left, and the remaining men were drunk, and the remaining kids were street kids looking to pickpocket. I was seriously disappointed because I had wanted to dance and have a good time with Obama's people, but the situation made it unbearable for my friends. They felt horribly violated by everyone hounding us, touching us, kids trying to steal from us or begging, etc. So we left after only a few minutes. I was soooo sad :(
So that was my Obama night. I loved watching the inauguration, and it is the first time in my life when I am proud to say I am American. But the celebrations afterward fell VERY short of my expectations. I just wish I had been here for the elections, because THAT was a party that everyone could go to and have fun at. Obamamania here is definitely more intense than in America!
Anyway, now I must get back to researching. But I will try to update this as much as possible because there will be a LOT to talk about here. I don't have any computer access near my home yet, but hopefully the ones at the school will prove useful.
All my love and congrats to everyone at home on our new prez! O-BA-MA! Now if only you all could hear the songs that have been written for him here since the election. They are priceless.
Okeedokee, so I have now moved from Nairobi out to a little village in Nyanza Province called Sauri. I love love loooooove my new home! I'm living with an older couple, dad is a retired meteorologist and mom is a Community Health Worker (CHW) in the area. They have 7 children, but none of them are at home currently, so it's mostly just me, them, and all the visitors we usually have! Our home is RURAL. It's about a 10 minute walk from the main road to Kisumu, up in the green countryside through winding dirt roads. In our yard we have cows and chickens running around! There is a little main house, two smaller houses (called simbas, which are built for the married boys), another guest house for the girls, and a block of rooms for the animals, including another kitchen with a fire place and stone blocks for cooking on! I live in the main house with my parents. It's a small concrete structure, but very cozy on the inside, with a (relatively) big living room, a small dining room, a kitchen and pantry, 2 bedrooms and a storage room. I live in a small bedroom that is just perfect for me! A big bed, cabinet (with full length mirror--shocker!!) and a little table to put all my stuff on. It's very cute and just what I need after bedroom-switching everytime I'm back in Nairobi. We have electricity in the house, which no one else in the village has, so I'm very very lucky! There is running water....outside. We have a tap that I can use to get all the water I need for my bucket shower. We just heat it up over a fire before I go use it in the outdoor shower room. And our toilet is a latrine outside, but they have converted the squat toilet into a sitting one by adding a cement block and an actual toilet seat to it! Very crafty! It's mildly disconcerting when I'm showering or otherwise and giant moths are trying to dive-bomb me, but all-in-all, it's not bad.
My internship has not officially started yet because there was all this paperwork I had to do that had been overlooked, so I'm working on getting that done and officializing my stay here. Hopefully it comes through quickly, seeing as my time here is limited! All this red tape is really annoying. I don't see why they find it so necessary, considering that Jeff Sachs himself has already approved me for the project. But they just loooooove "procedure" here in Kenya...even when it prohibits me from being a useful member of the Millennium Villages team. I'm here, MVP! USE ME! LET ME WORK!!!!!
Oh yeah, did I even tell you what I'll be doing? Well, I'm working in the ORIGINAL millennium village: Sauri, Kenya. The Millennium Village Project is a spin-off from the larger Millennium Development Goals initiative. Basically, they are using rural villages across Africa as models of how to properly implement the MDGs to improve quality of life in poverty-stricken areas. Go to the website if you want to hear more about the goals and how they're progressing: http://www.endpoverty2015.org/. But anywho, Sauri was the first MV to be established, about 5 years ago. It has been a great model for the MDGs and quite successful in its initiatives. I'm going to (hopefully) be working on several different projects.
1) Working with a local school that recently received a computer lab, training the teachers & students in ICT and doing research on how to best utilize this resource for the best education of the students.
2) Working on a school to school initiative that will partner MV schools with schools in the US for a mutual learning commitment to each other.
3) I'll also be, unofficially, assiting with some medical team projects, which are currently TBD.
The third thing is what I've been doing this week, as I'm not yet approved to work in the schools here. I assisted with an HIV/AIDS training seminar for some local CHWs on Monday, and now I'm doing research for a triage project in the rural clincs. I'm loving the work so far and the people I'll be working with are fantastic, so it's looking very promising! I only wish I had been doing this work since the beginning so I could have been here for a longer time!
Now, something you may not know about the Kisumu area is that, just about 2 hours from town (one hour from the village where I live) is the home of Obama's father--where his grandmother and other relatives still live! This is the HEART of Obamaland! So you can imagine I was completely stoked to be here for his inauguration. Anywhere in Kenya, white people (not just Americans) get cat-called about Obama. But in Kisumu, it's NEVERENDING! People are sooooo excited to be a part of it. They all yell out "Oh, sista Obama!" "We make Obamas together!" "Obama Obama Obama!" "Mzungu, Obama, yes we can!". It's pretty funny, but I'm sure will get tiring after a few weeks. Maybe the fervor will start to die down now, though I doubt it! Anyway, I made the long and sometimes treacherous journey into town from my home yesterday morning. I say treacherous because, though usually it's fine, I happened to be in a matatu yesterday that had the brakes fail halfway through the trip! And I was in what we call the "death seat", aka the front middle seat with no seatbelts. But did that stop this vehicle from continuing? Nope! They really take this "yes we can!" attitude to the limit. The driver just would casually shift into first gear and put on the emergency brake anytime a stop was required. I was scared shitless, but what can you do? If I got out I'd have to pay for ANOTHER one, which may not come for another 10-30 minutes. I figured we were pretty close, and matatus always suck, so I'd just stick it out and get to Kisumu as fast as possible. Anyway, we made it without other mishaps, thank god. I went to the MVP offices for a while to do some paperwork, then I met up with Andre, Ashley, Jen, her husband Ben, and Dan to head to Sports Grounds. That's this big arena in town where they had set up huge screens to view the inauguration, and you can get well priced drinks and food there. Unfortunately, though predicatably, Sports Grounds was a MADHOUSE. There were thousands of Kenyans running around and screaming and dancing in celebration for Obama! It was NUTS. In the end, we moved to the Imperial Hotel across the street to watch. That was a lot more pleasant and easier to see and hear at. We watched everything go down in a very plush lounge with a nice, big flatscreen. At the same time, we could hear the multiple echoes of the TVs in Sports Grounds, so that we heard everything that was said three times! We also could hear the crowds cheering insanely...especially at the part where Obama mentioned Kogelo, his father's village. The screaming and cheering at that part (which is the title of this post) was INSANE!
After the inauguration speech (which made me cry, btw), a few of us really wanted to go back to Sports Grounds to celebrate with everyone there. So we dropped off some of our bags at the hotel desk and headed over. Almost immediatley, we were MOBBED by people! I guess at that point, nearly all the women had already left, and the remaining men were drunk, and the remaining kids were street kids looking to pickpocket. I was seriously disappointed because I had wanted to dance and have a good time with Obama's people, but the situation made it unbearable for my friends. They felt horribly violated by everyone hounding us, touching us, kids trying to steal from us or begging, etc. So we left after only a few minutes. I was soooo sad :(
So that was my Obama night. I loved watching the inauguration, and it is the first time in my life when I am proud to say I am American. But the celebrations afterward fell VERY short of my expectations. I just wish I had been here for the elections, because THAT was a party that everyone could go to and have fun at. Obamamania here is definitely more intense than in America!
Anyway, now I must get back to researching. But I will try to update this as much as possible because there will be a LOT to talk about here. I don't have any computer access near my home yet, but hopefully the ones at the school will prove useful.
All my love and congrats to everyone at home on our new prez! O-BA-MA! Now if only you all could hear the songs that have been written for him here since the election. They are priceless.
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Nairobbery
Hahahaha, oh Nairobbery, you really lived up to your nickname didn’t you? Yes folks, it has finally happened. I got robbed.
In my last post, I mentioned offhand the 2 guys sitting behind me and Ashley in a matatu who were acting kind of strange. They were grabbing for our seatbelts and yelling and making quite a commotion…and then suddenly they just bolted. Neither me or Ashley really thought much of it at the time, except as an annoyance. But then, right after posting that story, I realized that Ashley’s computer had a slot for the type of memory card my camera has…had…(sad face!). This was a great opportunity to download all the pictures from our vacation without having to buy a new camera cord (which got lost somewhere between South Africa and Kuwait). So I went looking for my camera………
Nowhere to be found.
I looked all over the house, all through my luggage, everywhere I could think of. It was missing! I had, and still have, no recollection of putting it in my messenger bag when we left for Westlands that morning, but that was the only explanation. Except it wasn’t in my bag! I started panicking. I figured the only explanation was that, somewhere along the way to and from Westlands, it had been stolen directly out of my bag (which is never out of my sight nor even out of my lap usually!). It didn’t make any sense. But that was all I could think of, so of course, I was pretty upset. I shunned poor Ken, who was only trying to make me feel better, and retreated to a corner of the front yard to call my mom. Had a good cry with her over the phone about my lost pictures, then went back inside to inform Ken that he could make me feel much much better by driving me to Nakumatt to buy comfort foods! He happily agreed (pretty great guy, huh?), then tried to make me feel even better by saying, Well at least you still have your wallet!
I FROZE. I didn’t remember seeing my wallet in my bag either!
I bolted upstairs as fast as possible, only to confirm my fears…my wallet had also been stolen, with my brand new ATM card, my Visa, and my drivers license! The only consolation about this whole thing is that I keep my cash separate from my wallet, just in case something like this were to happen. So the stupid fuckers who stole my shit got about $1’s worth of Tanzanian shillings, and a bunch of random Malawian, Zambian and South African coins. HAHAHAHAHAHAHA BITCHES! I figured that, since 80% of people on this continent (excluding South Africa) don’t even know what a credit card is, my plastic was safe. They got zero cash. And yes, it sucked about my camera…most of all about my lost pictures. Maybe it would feed their families for a week. But in the end, they will be reincarnated as stick insects or cockroaches…and I will crush them. Karma.
So then I spent the next few hours attempting to cancel my cards, order new ones for my mom to bring me when she comes in a month, and get temporary emergency ones sent directly here to Kenya. Thank GOD for Skype. And all the calls were toll-free numbers, so I didn’t waste any of my yet again limited supply of cash. Phew!
As I was checking on my accounts, however, I noticed three strange charges on both my Sovereign debit card, and my UW credit card……..three charges of $50 each at a Macy’s in, of all places, Oklahoma! Well, that sucked. I had been robbed by the only two assholes in Nairobi who were capable of committing credit card fraud!! FIGURES. So now, not only do I have to somehow get my temp cards sent here (not an easy task), but I also have to dispute the fraudulent charges. Son of a bitch.
While all this was going on, Ashley and I were trying our hardest to figure out where and when my shit got taken. We figured it out after talking to my host bro, Toti. He was helping us retrace our steps, and we figured the most likely place for my stuff to have been taken was in a matatu. Those minibuses are notorious for being robbery-central. At first, she and I thought it must have been in the few seconds when I was trying to squeeze out of the first matatu at Westlands. This asshole practically boxed me in, and I had to push and shove and yell a bit to get past him. But the whole saga had taken maybe 7 seconds, and with my bag in front of me the whole time and clutched tight, there may have been about a 2 second opening for him to reach his hand under the closed flap, find both my wallet and camera (in its case), and remove them, without my noticing. Unlikely. Then we remembered the seatbelt guys. We described the scene of them yelling at us to get our seatbelts on, and Toti’s eyes lit up and he said, Ah yes! That’s a classic move they pull to distract you! How many of them were there?
Two.
Yeah, that must’ve been it. There’s four main ways they get you on matatus. One of them is they do the seatbelt thing, and while you’re distracted looking for your belt, one of them reaches into your bag.
What are the other ones?
Well, let’s see, another one is when they “accidentally” drop money and ask you to help look for it, and while you’re trying to help, they rob you…
[[Ashley and I looked at each other in disbelief. That was EXACTLY one of the things those guys had done to us! One of them had dropped some coins behind me, and I had grabbed them quickly and given them back, but even after that, he had claimed there was more down there. I disagreed and stopped looking. Guess that trick didn’t work so well for him.]]
….then another is of course the big, brown envelope. They position an envelope or notebook or newspaper over your lap so they can reach into your bag without you noticing…
[[This was unbelievable. The guy sitting next to me had done that also!!]]
…then finally, sometimes someone will ask you to help them out by opening a window, and while you’re struggling to get it open, they reach in your bag.
Finally, that was one trick they hadn’t tried on us. But the other three were textbook! We couldn’t believe how hard and long these guys had been trying to take my stuff! The first thing they tried was the envelope. The guy next to me acted as though he didn’t have enough room to fit his legs and the big envelope in the seat, so he extended the envelope partially over my bag. I was trying to be polite and at first didn’t really say anything. But then I got annoyed, and moved the envelope away a bit. I guess that’s what threw him off, because they moved onto step 2: the coins. When THAT didn’t work, they pulled out the big guns with the Police are arresting everyone who isn’t wearing a seatbelt! Quick quick put yours on!
That must’ve been the clincher, because as soon as we came to a stop after that move, they BOLTED as fast as possible out of the matatu. At the time, I just thought they were irrationally scared about being arrested for not wearing a belt. Stupid stupid me. I had let them invade my space in an effort to be polite…and I got screwed. When I realized exactly what had happened, I was SO MAD I could barely sit still. It’s one thing to have your bag stolen at the airport or to be mugged for your phone. Those situations are completely out of your control and you just have to go with it. But I had let my guard down in an attempt to not seem like a paranoid tourist. So therefore, it was mostly my fault. I felt and still feel like a total asshole for falling for all those theatrics. But what pisses me off even more is the fact that not a single other person on that matatu made a move to help us. Every local in Nairobi knows about these tricks and can list them off in a second. They must have seen what these guys were doing to us, and that we were falling for it. But they didn’t say a WORD. What the hell good is culturally acceptable mob justice if no one bothers to utilize it?????
Anyway, I hope that other travelers learn from my misfortune. It’s pretty unfortunate to be reminded that, as a white person, we are always targets and we don’t have the luxury of acting like a local.
So, the moral of the story is:
Never, EVER, be polite in Nairobi.
In my last post, I mentioned offhand the 2 guys sitting behind me and Ashley in a matatu who were acting kind of strange. They were grabbing for our seatbelts and yelling and making quite a commotion…and then suddenly they just bolted. Neither me or Ashley really thought much of it at the time, except as an annoyance. But then, right after posting that story, I realized that Ashley’s computer had a slot for the type of memory card my camera has…had…(sad face!). This was a great opportunity to download all the pictures from our vacation without having to buy a new camera cord (which got lost somewhere between South Africa and Kuwait). So I went looking for my camera………
Nowhere to be found.
I looked all over the house, all through my luggage, everywhere I could think of. It was missing! I had, and still have, no recollection of putting it in my messenger bag when we left for Westlands that morning, but that was the only explanation. Except it wasn’t in my bag! I started panicking. I figured the only explanation was that, somewhere along the way to and from Westlands, it had been stolen directly out of my bag (which is never out of my sight nor even out of my lap usually!). It didn’t make any sense. But that was all I could think of, so of course, I was pretty upset. I shunned poor Ken, who was only trying to make me feel better, and retreated to a corner of the front yard to call my mom. Had a good cry with her over the phone about my lost pictures, then went back inside to inform Ken that he could make me feel much much better by driving me to Nakumatt to buy comfort foods! He happily agreed (pretty great guy, huh?), then tried to make me feel even better by saying, Well at least you still have your wallet!
I FROZE. I didn’t remember seeing my wallet in my bag either!
I bolted upstairs as fast as possible, only to confirm my fears…my wallet had also been stolen, with my brand new ATM card, my Visa, and my drivers license! The only consolation about this whole thing is that I keep my cash separate from my wallet, just in case something like this were to happen. So the stupid fuckers who stole my shit got about $1’s worth of Tanzanian shillings, and a bunch of random Malawian, Zambian and South African coins. HAHAHAHAHAHAHA BITCHES! I figured that, since 80% of people on this continent (excluding South Africa) don’t even know what a credit card is, my plastic was safe. They got zero cash. And yes, it sucked about my camera…most of all about my lost pictures. Maybe it would feed their families for a week. But in the end, they will be reincarnated as stick insects or cockroaches…and I will crush them. Karma.
So then I spent the next few hours attempting to cancel my cards, order new ones for my mom to bring me when she comes in a month, and get temporary emergency ones sent directly here to Kenya. Thank GOD for Skype. And all the calls were toll-free numbers, so I didn’t waste any of my yet again limited supply of cash. Phew!
As I was checking on my accounts, however, I noticed three strange charges on both my Sovereign debit card, and my UW credit card……..three charges of $50 each at a Macy’s in, of all places, Oklahoma! Well, that sucked. I had been robbed by the only two assholes in Nairobi who were capable of committing credit card fraud!! FIGURES. So now, not only do I have to somehow get my temp cards sent here (not an easy task), but I also have to dispute the fraudulent charges. Son of a bitch.
While all this was going on, Ashley and I were trying our hardest to figure out where and when my shit got taken. We figured it out after talking to my host bro, Toti. He was helping us retrace our steps, and we figured the most likely place for my stuff to have been taken was in a matatu. Those minibuses are notorious for being robbery-central. At first, she and I thought it must have been in the few seconds when I was trying to squeeze out of the first matatu at Westlands. This asshole practically boxed me in, and I had to push and shove and yell a bit to get past him. But the whole saga had taken maybe 7 seconds, and with my bag in front of me the whole time and clutched tight, there may have been about a 2 second opening for him to reach his hand under the closed flap, find both my wallet and camera (in its case), and remove them, without my noticing. Unlikely. Then we remembered the seatbelt guys. We described the scene of them yelling at us to get our seatbelts on, and Toti’s eyes lit up and he said, Ah yes! That’s a classic move they pull to distract you! How many of them were there?
Two.
Yeah, that must’ve been it. There’s four main ways they get you on matatus. One of them is they do the seatbelt thing, and while you’re distracted looking for your belt, one of them reaches into your bag.
What are the other ones?
Well, let’s see, another one is when they “accidentally” drop money and ask you to help look for it, and while you’re trying to help, they rob you…
[[Ashley and I looked at each other in disbelief. That was EXACTLY one of the things those guys had done to us! One of them had dropped some coins behind me, and I had grabbed them quickly and given them back, but even after that, he had claimed there was more down there. I disagreed and stopped looking. Guess that trick didn’t work so well for him.]]
….then another is of course the big, brown envelope. They position an envelope or notebook or newspaper over your lap so they can reach into your bag without you noticing…
[[This was unbelievable. The guy sitting next to me had done that also!!]]
…then finally, sometimes someone will ask you to help them out by opening a window, and while you’re struggling to get it open, they reach in your bag.
Finally, that was one trick they hadn’t tried on us. But the other three were textbook! We couldn’t believe how hard and long these guys had been trying to take my stuff! The first thing they tried was the envelope. The guy next to me acted as though he didn’t have enough room to fit his legs and the big envelope in the seat, so he extended the envelope partially over my bag. I was trying to be polite and at first didn’t really say anything. But then I got annoyed, and moved the envelope away a bit. I guess that’s what threw him off, because they moved onto step 2: the coins. When THAT didn’t work, they pulled out the big guns with the Police are arresting everyone who isn’t wearing a seatbelt! Quick quick put yours on!
That must’ve been the clincher, because as soon as we came to a stop after that move, they BOLTED as fast as possible out of the matatu. At the time, I just thought they were irrationally scared about being arrested for not wearing a belt. Stupid stupid me. I had let them invade my space in an effort to be polite…and I got screwed. When I realized exactly what had happened, I was SO MAD I could barely sit still. It’s one thing to have your bag stolen at the airport or to be mugged for your phone. Those situations are completely out of your control and you just have to go with it. But I had let my guard down in an attempt to not seem like a paranoid tourist. So therefore, it was mostly my fault. I felt and still feel like a total asshole for falling for all those theatrics. But what pisses me off even more is the fact that not a single other person on that matatu made a move to help us. Every local in Nairobi knows about these tricks and can list them off in a second. They must have seen what these guys were doing to us, and that we were falling for it. But they didn’t say a WORD. What the hell good is culturally acceptable mob justice if no one bothers to utilize it?????
Anyway, I hope that other travelers learn from my misfortune. It’s pretty unfortunate to be reminded that, as a white person, we are always targets and we don’t have the luxury of acting like a local.
So, the moral of the story is:
Never, EVER, be polite in Nairobi.
Saturday, January 10, 2009
Tetanus much?
I'll keep this post short because, as Eliza put it, I tend to be quite a chatterbox on this blog! Luckily I only have something quick to say.
Ashley and I decided to do a bit of exploring of Westlands today, which we go to at night for clubbing, but have never seen in the day. It was uneventful really. Found a nice salon to get my eyebrows done, looked at a few restaurants but decided they were too expensive for our cheap-skate ways, ended up getting pizza at Pizza Inn instead...the usual. Our matatu ride back to town was mildling interesting in that halfway there, these 2 guys sitting behind us started yelling and scrambling around and grabbing dangerously close to our butts. We asked, as calmly as possible when some stranger is apparently reaching for your goodies, what on earth they were doing? They said that cops were arresting everyone for not wearing seatbelts. They were apparently trying to find our seatbelts for us. Unfortunately, my seat didn't have a seatbelt. So, not wanting to be arrested just in case those guys were telling the truth, we hopped out of the matatu ASAP.
We caught the bus back from town to the estate, and that's when it happened. There was a metal plate under the lifted armrest as I went to sit down...and I accidentally slid against it...and ripped a HUGE hole in my pants! My left butt cheek was on display for all of Nairobi! Thank god I was sitting down at this point, and I had my messenger bag, which I strategically placed to avoid humiliation. But now I have a big cut on my ass, so when I eventually get tetanus or something from that rusty metal plate, at least I know how.
Ashley and I decided to do a bit of exploring of Westlands today, which we go to at night for clubbing, but have never seen in the day. It was uneventful really. Found a nice salon to get my eyebrows done, looked at a few restaurants but decided they were too expensive for our cheap-skate ways, ended up getting pizza at Pizza Inn instead...the usual. Our matatu ride back to town was mildling interesting in that halfway there, these 2 guys sitting behind us started yelling and scrambling around and grabbing dangerously close to our butts. We asked, as calmly as possible when some stranger is apparently reaching for your goodies, what on earth they were doing? They said that cops were arresting everyone for not wearing seatbelts. They were apparently trying to find our seatbelts for us. Unfortunately, my seat didn't have a seatbelt. So, not wanting to be arrested just in case those guys were telling the truth, we hopped out of the matatu ASAP.
We caught the bus back from town to the estate, and that's when it happened. There was a metal plate under the lifted armrest as I went to sit down...and I accidentally slid against it...and ripped a HUGE hole in my pants! My left butt cheek was on display for all of Nairobi! Thank god I was sitting down at this point, and I had my messenger bag, which I strategically placed to avoid humiliation. But now I have a big cut on my ass, so when I eventually get tetanus or something from that rusty metal plate, at least I know how.
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