I had a wonderful two weeks at my peace corps training. It was nice to have a chance to be in Nairobi… which feels more and more like America. It was also nice to spend time with my fellow Americans. I got to drink a real vanilla latte and “real” beer on tap. I also ate some protein for the first time since I killed my last chicken (about a month ago) and took hot showers (sometimes twice a day… just because I could). It’s always hard coming back to taking bucket baths, dealing with lots of bugs (sometimes in my food), and struggling with cultural and language barriers being the only white person in my rural village.
I expected to feel a little depressed coming back to the village but I wasn’t prepared for what I would find. I spent my entire Peace Corps stipend and then some in Nairobi so coming back to the village I had just enough money to pick up my packages from the post office and for transportation to my house. Of course I came home on Sunday when the post office was closed so after I paid for my transport back to my house, I didn’t have enough left over to go back to town and pick them up the next day. That’s just how it goes I thought; I’ll get to my packages eventually. Little did I know there had been no rain while I was gone and my outside water tank was completely empty. Also, there had been a lot of male circumcisions while I was gone and the staff used my gas for the autoclave to sterilize the surgical equipment which also left my gas tank completely empty. So here I am, in the middle of a Kenyan village with no water, no way of cooking my food. I am left with one half-full indoor water tank which I need for washing two weeks’ worth of clothes, bathing (although it would be cold because I have no way to heat my water), and drinking. That also leaves my food choices to milk, peanuts, raw oatmeal and jelly. I figured people eat raw oatmeal in granola bars and such, so I poured milk over it like cereal and added a little jelly to flavor for breakfast. It wasn’t awful but I had to eat something because I was going to spend my whole day walking around the village for our last round of the polio vaccination campaign. Was I internally freaking out about what I was going to eat or how I was going to solve my problem of not being able to cook my food? Of course I was. Was there anything I could do about it? Not really. I didn’t have any money to buy gas, let alone pay for the transport to get to town and back with my 50lb. gas tank. Also, the way Kenya works, there was no guarantee that if I went to town, that there would even be gas at the station for me. It seems to be a rare commodity and difficult to get when you need it.
I had already searched my Peace Corps cook book for ways to make “no-bake” granola bars with my peanut butter and oatmeal when Sister Mien came up to me and said “I’m sorry the clinic had to use your gas. They have gas in Rongo and I’d like to go fill up your tank for you.” I asked to go along in order to pick up my packages. Now here I sit with a full tank of gas, warm water for my bucket bath, and I’m listening to my favorite Christmas music with a Christmas tree smelling candle burning and more food and snacks than I could eat in a month.
Buffalo Jerky, twislers, butter and cheddar flavored seasonings, boxed macaroni and cheese, and did I mention the candle that smells like a Christmas tree? I guess everything happens for a reason and I couldn’t feel happier or more loved. Thanks for keeping me going and Merry Christmas.
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