Mombasa (finally)

Here is the expected post about life in coastal Kenya. Sorry it took so long!

So to start with, I arrived in Mombasa on a typical hot, humid afternoon having traveled for nearly 7 hours in a bus with no A/C. In fact, just figure from here on out that A/C doesn't really exist here in Kenya! Our new host families met us at the Mash Bus waiting room on Jomo Kenyatta Avenue, right in the centre of downtown. I was the first person to be picked up, as opposed to in Nairobi, where my family didn't even SHOW. Lol. My host dad and sister came to meet me. I was surprised when my host dad gave me a really big hug and kissed my hand when he met me. I knew my family was Muslim and I didn't expect him to be so forward! My sister (who I originally thought was my very very young looking mom) shyly kissed my hand also. She wears a bui-bui (the full body, black Muslim dress conservative women wear), and she didn't say anything, so I figured she would be really reserved. We walked just a block away from the bus stop and I learned that was as far as we were going! We actually live in an apartment building right next to where we got dropped off. It is a 5 story walk-up to the apartment, which I'll admit I was a bit out of shape for. You have to walk through a goods storage area to get to the entrance of the building, and my host dad got a guy working there to carry my REALLY heavy luggage all the way up. He was seriously amazing. It would've taken me about an hour and a lot of pain to drag my suitcase up those stairs! Anyway, the apartment is pretty amazing. It's got very high ceilings in all the rooms, a huge family room, 3 big bedrooms, a big kitchen, a dining room and 2 toilets & showers. It also has this amazing balcony that wraps around 2 entire sides of the building, which is the best part because up on the 5th floor, there is almost always a heavenly breeze that makes all the difference in the suffocating heat & humidity of this town. But don't feel too jealous about my digs...because it may be big...but I have less privacy here than ever before in my life! Living in the apartment is me, my mom & dad, my 16 year old sister (Mariam), my 14 year old (Omar) and 7 year old (Hamiad) brothers, and my 6-month old sister (Khaula). I share a big bed with Mariam and sometimes Khaula. The windows & doors are open at all times to allow the wind in, which consequently allows my siblings into the room too! Hamiad has a very adorable habit of climbing in the window by my head while I'm sleeping or resting and scaring the crap out of me from behind! And anyone who chooses to walk past my windows on the balcony has a clear view of anything I'm doing, whether it be changing or putting away my laundry. The 2 boys & the househelp have seen more of me than I care to mention in this way! So yes, there is ZERO privacy here. And it was strange sharing a bed at first with this stranger, but I like my sister a lot and it turns out not to be a big deal. I don't have to worry about fighting for blankets because we don't use any! Just a sheet covering the bare mattress, and that's it. It's too hot to sleep w/ anything on top of you. Unfortunately, this gives the mosquitoes free access to me at night, and I'm now covered in bites. Hopefully my malaria meds work because I'm definitely being exposed to it!! The toilet is an interesting situation because it doesn't flush. You just pour buckets of water into it until everything goes down. And the family doesn't use toilet paper, they use water (no, I don't understand how). So I have to remember to bring my own in each time or I'm just S.O.L. The floor and toilet are always covered in water, so I also have to remember to hike up my pants each time or they're gonna get wet. There is no hot water to be had, but thankfully here you definitely don't need it! I take at least 2 cold showers everyday because it's just so damn hot all the time.

I know you still don't believe me that I've gotten used to the bug situation here, but if this doesn't convince you, nothing will. There are these pesky little guys in Mombasa, tiny tiny crawling black bugs that are attracted to sweet things. I woke up on my second morning to find them not only all over my soap and shampoo bottle...but actually on and IN my toothbrush and toothpaste!! I don't know if I just missed them on the first day and had a little bug breakfast unknowingly...but you can't really do anything about it. So I just rinsed them off as best I could...and continued to brush my teeth and wash my face. They also made a lovely little appearance in my food that evening. I couldn't bring myself to eat the buggy-fish, even after it had been rinsed. But it doesn't freak me out anymore! And there are lots of lovely cockroaches in our kitchen & living room. I've probably killed at least 10 by now. I caught one in fridge last night too. Again...nothing to do about it, so I just put up with them.

The street we live on is the busiest on the whole of Mombasa island. It is the road that goes to Nairobi and leads onto the mainland, so it's constantly packed with buses and matatus and pedestrians. It's so loud all the time that I just thank the lord I'm a deep sleeper! There would be no rest for a light sleeper in this place. That combined w/ the call to prayer 5 times a day really makes for a unique experience. Mombasa, in comparison to Nairobi, is almost entirely Muslim. There are tons of women in bui-buis or wearing hijab, and the men often wear the long white robes for prayer and the kofia (hats). And lots of people here are of Arab descent. My family is of Omani and Yemeni descent and they speak a combination of Kiswahili sanifu (the pure Kiswahili of the coast) and a bit of Arabic thrown in for good measure. It's a huge change from the Sheng/Swahili of Nairobi. Where I got praise for my excellent Swahili grammar back in Nairobi, here I find myself constantly struggling to keep up! But it IS good for my language skills and I'm slowly starting to improve, though I'm far far from being fluent.

I had hoped to end up living on or near the beach, but such is not the case. The area I live in (called Mwembe Tayari) is pure city. And a bit run-down at that. I don't like it too much right here because there is constantly a huge crowd of horny young African guys with the wrong idea about white women. I try to dress conservatively and even wear a scarf sometimes in the mid-day heat, but not much deters them. I just feel bad for women who are uninformed because the reaction is something you DEFINITELY don't want to experience. A couple weeks ago, I was on the balcony reading when I heard a huge commotion on the street below. I looked down and saw hundreds and hundreds of men flocking to the other side of the street. At first I couldn't see anything, but after a few minutes of the chaos, a single tuk-tuk (motorbike taxi) zoomed away from the crowd as fast as possible. I figured there must have been someone famous in the tuk-tuk and went back to reading. When my host mom came home a few minutes later, she asked me "did you see what happened?" I said yes, but I didn't kn0w why. She then told me, very simply "there was a girl wearing shorts in that tuk-tuk". And that was it...a girl was wearing shorts and HUNDREDS of men surrounded her tuk-tuk and openly stared and harassed her because of it! You have to be so careful here because, since most of the women are completely covered by hijab and bui-buis, the smallest glimpse of skin can send these men into hysterics. It makes me miss the relative invisibility I was blessed with in Nairobi because the people there are more used to Western dress & Westerners in general.

My work has proven to be very interesting, though at times frustrating and exhausting. My minimal Kiswahili allows me to do only the basic things required in the language, and the rest of the time, I find myself just listening to my colleagues as they work and trying to figure out what I'm doing there. I get to go out and do field work sometimes, which is always enjoyable, but the heat makes me dehydrated very fast, and by the end of the day I have a terrible headache and I could just fall asleep on my feet! But slowly slowly things are improving. The girls who are currently being trained in making shoes have gotten to know me and they include me in a lot of their activities, like singing & drawing, with enthusiasm! And as they start to trust me more, I feel more comfortable asking about their histories. They all came to SOLWODI in some way related to commercial sex work, abuse, and poverty. The programs take in girls who are either already engaged in sex work or who are at risk of entering the trade because they have no other way to make money. Many of them have lost one or both of their parents and they are supporting huge families of 6, 7 or 8 siblings. Some of them already have their own children, though they are younger than me. I met a girl the other day whose parents both died years ago and who doesn't know where her older brother is. She is the 2nd born and managed to get to sophomore year in high school before she had to drop out to support herself. Her younger siblings are supported in going to school by another organization, but it doesn't support her. She was living with some friends and engaged in commercial sex work, but got kicked out of that house. Now she lives with a man who she found on the streets of Mombasa. He forces her to have unprotected sex with him every night in exchange for a place to live and food to eat. She is only 20 years old. In a couple weeks, the man she is staying with is leaving Mombasa to visit his family at the rural home. He won't bring her with him, and he wont let her stay in the house. Essentially, in a couple weeks she will be homeless again. It's a tragic story because she's very bright and could have a good future...she just needs the financial and emotional support to get there. I'm hoping that SOLWODI will accept her as a client, fund her return to school for a college certificate in some useful trade, and provide her with counseling. SOLWODI also locates and helps children who have been trafficked to the coast for forced labor and/or sex slavery. We identify them through the help of informants and churches/religious groups, find them a temporary place to stay, and find a way to return them to their families. I've begun to do a lot of research on the topics, and it's disgusting how many people find themselves trapped in situations like these. The driving factor in all of it is poverty, which is way more prevalent here than it was in Nairobi. Every day, in town, on the beach, near hotels, out in the field...I see women and children who are clearly involved in the trade. And there are tons of street kids here. You see them everywhere, slumped on the side of the road in a small bit of shade with a water bottle full of glue hanging from their mouths. Glue sniffing is extremely common among street kids here and you can see what it does to them. Their eyes are dead and their bodies ravaged by the toxic drug. I'm so sad everytime I see them, but I can't give them money because they'll just go and spend it on more glue.

I haven't been out to explore much of the city or the surrounding areas yet because I've been so exhausted all the time. I thought it was just the heat that made me so tired & completely took away my appetite. But nope! It was my first brush with disease in Africa! Yay! Lol. Those of you who were with me in Madison this summer probably remember the hacking cough I brought back from Europe. Well, 5 months later, it was still with me. I finally gave in and went to the hospital to get it checked out about 2 weeks ago. I mentioned my lack of appetite and the stomach pains that had been bothering me since I got to Mombasa, but those symptoms were pretty much ignored. I don't blame them. They thought I had TB and wanted to get that checked out ASAP! They examined me, gave me a chest X-ray and drew blood...all the while allowing my completely over-bearing and ridiculous host-dad sit in and control everything! He used to be a psychiatric nurse, but now he's a fish monger. He thinks of himself as a doctor though and wasn't quiet in letting everyone in the hospital know that! I found it annoying at first, then uncomfortable, but the most horrifying part was when I went to get blood drawn. My host dad decided that the technician wasn't doing a good enough job locating a vein in my arm......so he grabbed the needle himself and tried to do it for him!!! I had been gently hinting the whole night that I wanted him to back off, but this freaked me out completely. I yelled at him to just let the technician do it, but that damn technician didn't listen to me and my host dad just told me he was an "expert". I realized there was nothing I could do to stop him, so I gave in and just made him put on gloves at the least. Yes...he was going to try and take blood from me WITHOUT GLOVES ON. Of course, his "expertise" was a crock because he also completely missed my vein and ended up just giving me a huge bruise. They had to eventually take the blood from my hand instead. The image of my host dad coming at me with a needle will probably haunt me for the rest of my life. Tests showed I had an elevated white blood cell count and some small infection brewing in my lungs, so they gave me antibiotics and sent me home. My cough started to clear up, but the stomach pain didn't.

A week later (this past Tuesday night) I was watching TV with my host family when the stomach cramping came back. I ignored it...but this time it didn't go away. It just got worse and worse until I was sweating with the pain and effort of trying not to throw up. The nausea hit me in waves, but nothing was coming up and the pain was causing me to hyperventilate. I went into my room and collapsed on the floor, then lost all feeling in my hands and feet! Apparently, that was a reaction to the heavy breathing, but at the time I didn't know what was happening and it really freaked me out. Then my hands started cramping and I couldn't get them out of this strange, claw-like shape. This led to my first brush with traditional medicine here in Kenya. My host mom said I was reacting to the change in climate from Nairobi to Mombasa (I had visited Nairobi that weekend) and told me to remove my shirt because I was too hot. Then, with a kanga covering me as best I could, she proceeded to slather my arms and legs in this medicinal oil mixture she'd put together. She massaged it into my cramped hands and feet, then poured cold water over my head. Then she ordered me to lie face down on the floor and open my mouth. I didn't resist because the pain in my stomach was still so bad. So, half naked on my bedroom floor, she poured the rest of the oil on my back and rubbed it in. The herbs in the oil stayed on my skin and I swear I looked a chicken ready for the oven! My brothers and sister thought this was quite amusing and watched from my bed. The distraction calmed my breathing and I regained feeling in my hands and feet, but my stomach was still cramping horribly. Again, my host dad tried to play doctor and forced me to take some pills which I think were pain killers, but at the time I didn't know. When I still didn't feel better 45 minutes later, I decided to just go back to the hospital. Of course, as soon as I got downstairs and into a taxi, THAT'S when the nausea really hit me and I threw up all the way to Aga Khan hospital. When they drew my blood this time, they discovered that the anti-biotics they'd given me the week before had done nothing because my white blood cell count was almost double what it should have been...higher even than the week before! They decided to admit me for observation and to give me IV anti-biotics, so I spent the next 2 days in the hospital with a needle in my arm. I've learned that medicine here in Africa is very different from America, probably because most people don't have insurance so they don't run so many tests. In America, I would've gotten a thorough review of all possible diagnoses, and even when they learned it was a bacterial infection in my stomach, they would have tried to figure out WHICH bacteria specifically it was. Here in Africa, they do things only if they feel they absolutely have to, which saves money but can also be dangerous (if you ask me). Had they paid attention to all my symptoms the week before, they might have caught my stomach infection much earlier and saved me the in-patient stay. I came here with a very high opinion of the Kenyan health-care system...but experience has caused that opinion to be lowered significantly. The doctors didn't even do a thorough history, which is completely standard in America! And they never bothered to keep me informed about the test results or what meds/IVs exactly they were giving me. Had I not piped up, they wouldn't have known anything about the medications I'm on or the history of my symptoms and I wouldn't have known anything about my condition. Pretty ridiculous. I'm not ragging on the doctors themselves...they are just as educated and highly trained as anywhere else. But I am disappointed in the SYSTEM. One more reason to appreciate America I guess. Anyway, I'm much better now, though the insane number of meds I'm on make me sick when I take them. Such is life, huh?

I've spent the past few days now just resting and sleeping a lot. I ventured out for work a bit yesterday, but the trade fair I was volunteering at turned out to be outdoors on the hottest day I've ever experienced and I got dehydrated really really fast. I had to come home and sleep because I was about to pass out from the heat! Today was the first day I've really felt like myself in a few weeks now, and I woke up early and spent the morning playing with my baby sister. She is so so cute, but such a handful! I was so grateful when she passed out on my bed after I fed her. Then my mom called me into the kitchen to teach me how to cook coconut fish stew and coconut rice with prawns. I actually squeezed coconut milk from fresh coconuts by hand!! The stew is the most delicious thing I've ever tasted, I swear to god. And I hand-picked through the rice to clean it then slow-cooked it with baby prawns and coconut milk. And as the stew and rice were cooking, my mom and I sat on the floor and cut up fresh pineapple, papaya and bananas for a fruit salad. It was so much fun! My mom is a truly fantastic cook and I can't wait to learn more from her. Yes, Maria, I am taking notes and will try to replicate these dishes in Madison next year! Though nothing will beat the fresh coconut milk, squeezed by hand! =P

So there you go, a little taste of life here in Mombasa. It's definitely not how I pictured it at all, but I'm enjoying myself most of the time. I cannot believe the semester will be over in just a few weeks! I need to do some serious thinking about what I might want to do next semester...if I want to come back to Mombasa or stay in Nairobi. It's a tough choice but I still have time to consider it. And the outcome of the situation with my host dad will also play a role in my decision, I'm sure. Nobody freak out please, but I have been having some additional problems with my host dad besides the needle thing. He is a bit too friendly with me, if you know what I mean, and he makes me uncomfortable a lot. He is also rather sexist, so nothing I say in protest to his actions really registers. I am eternally grateful that my homestay in Nairobi didn't have a father in the house! From this experience and the experiences of my other friends, I can say that many African men are difficult to live with. Maybe this is a taste of what life was like in America before women's rights...except escalated by the fact that white women are particularly desired and conspicuous here. It's very hard to describe what it's like. Anyway, I finally decided to report my host dad to the program, and in the next few days I expect someone will be talking to him about his actions. I don't know if this will help or hurt in the long run. The situation could be resolved and he could become more respectful...or I could end up having to move to another home, which would suck because I absolutely ADORE my mom and siblings. Anyway, I've been told by my Nairobi family that I am welcome back to their house anytime I want. And it's a tempting offer because I love that house & my family & boyfriend there...and I miss the comfort of Nairobi, where it's not constantly hot and no one really cares about the white girl walking around. But I'd also be missing out on my job here and the great Kiswahili and the beaches & beautiful towns that I have yet to explore. I guess we'll just see, huh? Cross that bridge when I come to it.

Okay, I know I also need to write about Obama's win & my birthday a little bit, but I will have to do that next time because this post has taken me nearly 2 hours to write! Take care everyone, loving you and missing you a lot! XOXO