Like Niagara falls but...

My life at the dispensary has been filled with ups and downs; often both within the same day. My first three months at my site I am supposed to be preparing my “Community Needs Assessment” report for Peace Corps. This involves making a map of my community and tracking different social calendars such as when schools are in session, when people are busy harvesting or planting crops, and tracking the history and development of my community. There is no science for how this is done and since I have yet to be able to have a conversation in Luo, most of my research has to be done simply by observation. Most of my “down” days are when I sit around the clinic all day waiting for something to happen, counting down the hours until lunch, and then counting down the hours until the work day is over so I can stop trying to look productive and crawl under my mosquito net and watch movies on my computer. If I had grand visions of what Peace Corps is, this was not it. It is these days that I question why I am here, and it’s on these days that I feel the pains of absolute boredom and loneliness.
A wise Peace Corps volunteer who served back in the 80’s once told me that if I ever felt like I wanted to go home, I should pack my bags but then wait three days. If I couldn’t find anything to keep me where I was after three days, then I should just throw in the towel and go home. I haven’t even considered packing my bags, but there are little things that happen every day that remind me of what he said. Each of these little things is enough to make me pack my bags in America and start this whole process over again to be where I am right now. I’d like to share a story from yesterday that encompasses several of those “little things.”
Monday morning:
I spent over 4 and ½ hours in church on Sunday. The Father asked me to stand in front of the whole congregation (100 or so people) to say a few words of introduction about myself and this was in the 4th hour. I had started counting the planks in the ceiling at this point because the whole service was in Luo, which I don’t understand yet, and the two hours of announcements where like white noise.  I needed food at the market, so after the service I ventured down to the nearest market while getting caught in a torrential downpour and ended up standing under a storefront for 3 hours to wait out the rain. Needless to say, I didn’t expect my Monday to be any better. Mondays never are right?
My alarm went off and I considered snoozing for a little bit because it was 8am and the clinic doesn’t get busy until at least 9. Unfortunately I heard Sister Gaudie’s voice outside my window and figured if my supervisor was already at the clinic I better get my butt in motion because it takes about an hour to make my oatmeal and coffee in the morning. And yes it really does take me an hour to make oatmeal because I have to pick all the little worms out of the oats before I cook them.  When I walked into the clinic to report for duty there was a big line-up of people waiting to be seen and a mother in labor who was resting in the delivery room. I jumped at the chance to not be sitting around bored today and sister Gaudie gave me a lesson in midwifery using our pregnant mother as the case study. This particular woman had been in labor for a few hours, it was her 5th child, she was 6cm dilated and her water had not broken yet. Sister informed me that with the rates of HIV in this area that it was recommended to keep the membranes intact for as long as possible to reduce the baby’s exposure to the HIV virus. I stress the words “as long as possible” because they truly were intact “as long as possible.” I was in the room next door waiting for a malaria blood smear to be analyzed in the lab when I heard Sister Gaudie call out “CHRIS, CHRIS!!!” (Most Kenyans shorten my name to Chris because it’s just easier to say). I ran into the delivery room to find the mother lying on her side and in literally a split second her water broke as the baby popped right out. It was basically Niagara falls but with blood, placenta, and a baby boy. Sister was holding the baby by his feet with one hand and trying to block the sprays of water and birth with her other hand. It was spectacular! We diagnosed several children with Malaria that day, and I finally got to see what the Plasmodium that causes Malaria looks like under a microscope.  This was not the Monday morning I thought I was waking up to.  I still feel like I am in the way sometimes and that I don’t have a clearly defined role at the dispensary yet, but it truly is the little moments like this particular Monday that remind me of the reasons I packed my bags in the first place.

Me at the rural outreach clinic assessing pregnant mothers.
 

Day one

I spent my first night in the house with the sisters. There are four sisters and two that are in training. They were so wonderful and welcoming that I instantly felt at home with them. They even celebrated my arrival with ice cream and cake from town! I had a great night of sleep and felt prepared to start my first day.

The beginning of day one started off with whole wheat bread covered in butter and honey, alongside cheese, chicken sausages, and REAL coffee made from a French press. This may not sound so exciting for everyone at home, but I’m sure all my fellow peace corps volunteers are drooling! It was absolutely amazing. I then walked down the dirt road to the dispensary (small clinic) where I will be living and working. I met the nurses and lab technician that I will be working alongside and we had a meeting to discuss our plans for the next few weeks. Shortly after I had arrived, I was asked if I wanted to see a circumcision performed. It is not the tradition in Kenya to circumcise children when they are born. In fact, IF it is tradition to perform circumcision in ones’ particular tribe, it is usually done as part of a “coming of age” ceremony when they are in their teens. However, in current research it has been shown that HIV transmission can be decreased by up to 60% if a man is circumcised, so young people are making the choice to be circumcised even if it is not part of their tribal traditions. The young boy who sat on the table today was probably around 14 years old. I still cannot even comprehend what must have been going through his head when they brought out the needle of lidocaine to numb him up. I’ve seen blood, guts, and surgery before, but there was something about the nonchalant manor in which they snip-snipped this young boy while joking around and not even closing the door to the room. I think I was more traumatized than the boy! The rest of my day went smoothly and I rode with the sisters the 12 kilometers into town to see what there was to see.

We first visited the Rongo District Hospital so the two sisters could get a paper signed for school. We sat outside the “outpatient department” which is this hospital’s version of the ER. I sat next to a mother and her 3 year old girl who was trying to get medication for malaria. The baby’s name was Sharon and we enjoyed a little game of pic-a-boo. Almost instantaneously a dark cloud rolled in with a clap of thunder and the sky exploded with rain. This must have been a prelude for what was about to unfold. A young man and a small boy raced up to the door of the outpatient department. This boy, who was probably 6 or 7 years old, stood in front of me sopping wet from rain, shaking violently and trying to hold back the tears as the tip of his tiny ring finger dangled by a strand in a bloody twisted mess. There was no mother to coddle him and tell him it would all be ok. There was just the young man who pushed him towards the door entrance after asking the rest of us if it was ok for him to cut in line.

Following my experience at the hospital, the two sisters and I went to town to pick up some things at the supermarket. We stopped briefly to watch a funeral procession parade down the street. There were a large group of people wailing, screaming, and waving tree branches… as is the custom for a funeral. Amongst what I had seen today and the torrential downpour, I was happy to make the drive back to the safe haven that is the sisters’ house.

Day Three

I spent my first night and cooked my first meal at my new home! I have three beautiful rooms at the dispensary. First is my bedroom. I have a bed, desk, dresser, and two chairs. It is spacious and the mattress is incredibly comfortable by Kenyan standards.

Next is my sitting room. I have a table, two chairs, a cupboard to put all my food and dishes, along with a bookshelf to store things. There is a little gecko that I’ve seen twice now every time I open one of the windows in this room. I think I’ll name him Ivan.

The third room is my kitchen. I have a gas stove with a working oven, a sink, counter top and small water tank. I have solar powered electricity but no running water. There is a door to the dispensary in this room and another door that leads out back. This is where I like to sit and watch the cows graze and children walk by. It’s a nice quiet escape and the views are excellent!

Getting ready for the new Ivan

The last few days have been filled with more emotion and more commotion than my whole two months in Africa so far! On Friday night I had my last dinner with my host family in Loitokitok. They killed a chicken and me and my mama cooked chapatti and lentils. I ate four pieces of chicken, a giant bowl of lentils and two chapattis! I bought some coca-cola for dessert so me and my family washed it all down with a glass of room temperature coke. I gave my host family cards from home with pictures of the tulip fields in Mount Vernon and the Puget Sound. I wrote a nice note (in all Swahili) thanking them for making feel like a part of their family.  I then gave them a gift of laundry soap, toilet paper, bars of soap and some earrings for my mama. She asked me the next morning if all of that stuff was for them… I guess not realizing it was a gift. I went to bed with my room packed up and feeling sad to be leaving this little room of mine behind.

The next morning I got done up in my traditional African dress that I had made and mama told me how “smart” I looked. We walked up to the Peace Corps hub for the host family appreciation ceremony and lunch. A group of us put on skits for the families about all of our crazy experiences over the past 10 weeks. One was showcasing the telenovelas (Spanish soap operas) that Kenyans absolutely love to watch. The worst part about them is that they are overly dramatized then dubbed over in English which, I swear, is done by only one person in a bland monotone voice. It can be painful to watch. Other skits were about how we scream like little girls when we find bugs in our rooms, how we had no idea how to bathe out of a bucket when we arrived, and how Kenyans and Americans palate for food differ so greatly. We all laughed and then cried when one of the host mothers gave a speech about how much she will miss her new “daughter.” We all hugged our families’ goodbye and prepared for the next stage in our adventure.

We were all loaded up on matatus (large vans used for public transportation) and took the 4 hour drive back into Nairobi. It was so nice to take a hot shower and have an inside toilet all to myself! After class today we found out our “Supervisors” were coming to dinner with us to attend our training workshop tomorrow. Our supervisors are the people who requested a peace corps volunteer for their organization and are responsible for the care and feeding of us until we gain our sea-legs at our sites. It feels like going on a blind date and a job interview at the same time, except the stakes are higher because you very well might accidentally do something culturally inappropriate without realizing AND you have to actually live and work with this person for the next two years. The pressure is on!

The Peace Corps staff was talking about “maintaining strong emotions” yesterday. They said the experience of doing Peace Corps is similar to the top three stressors in a person’s life:  Moving, starting a new job, and the death of a loved one (this one being the loss of all our friends who we have met in training which are our new Peace Corps family now.) It’s the unexpected that weighs the heaviest right now. All of these strong ties that I have built with people are going to be nothing but long distance phone calls as I move into another new life. On the bright side of things, I cannot wait to have my own little house and buy my own bed and new dishes! This is the final step I’ve been waiting for. Of our original group of 56 people, only 49 remain.

Maybe I’ll have a new spider I can name Ivan at my new place J

Siku ya Zaliwa

My life as a peace corps trainee is about to come to an end. I started packing today and reflected a little bit of my journey so far. I have learned enough conversational Swahili to pass the Peace corps required level, I am getting pretty good at washing a large load of laundry by hand, and I can bake a batch of brownies over a charcoal fire. Yup, I think i'm ready for the real life Peace corps volunteer experience. We will have one last host-family appreciation party next saturday and then we will all head back to Nairobi to prepare for our swearing in celebration at the US ambassadors house. It all seems a little bittersweet. I have gotten so close with my host mama (she promises she will call me once a month after I leave). I am so excited to start the real peace corps service, to start projects, set up my own house, and cook my own foods! However, I went to the market yesterday to do a little shopping and meet up with a friend. I chatted with Mama Mauwa (my favorite clothing seller) in Kiswahili, greeted several people on the streets, informed a group of heckling men that I wasn't a "muzungu" and that I had a name, did some shopping and bargained a blanket down to the best price. I then checked my phone and it was time to meet my friend at the gas station. I was feeling great and thinking to myself... this is what life is going to be like when I get to my site! EXCEPT for the part where I get to meet my friend or share my day with someone. I didn't expect I was going to become so close with so many people in a few short weeks that I was going to miss them as much as I miss my friends at home. I plan on making the most of the next few days with them before I head off to Rongo, Kenya on August 18th!

On a second note... I had an amazing 25th birthday! My wonderful friend Breezie gave me some easy cheese along with cheez-its that she had gotten from the states. I can't explain to you how wonderful cheddar-bacon easy cheese is on a bowl of lentils! I had messages and phone calls from home! I got a pair of grape-chinese socks from my friend Jo! I even got a brownie with sprinkles (my birthday cake) from Lussia and Ryan. I cooked KRAFT macaroni and cheese for dinner with my friend Breezie and my host mama sat and watched us intently throughout the entire process. It could be because she has never seen food cooked out of a box before, or maybe because she has no idea what "cheese" is. She followed us into the sitting room to watch us eat our concoction. We then asked her to take a picture for us and handed over the digital camera, after about 5 minutes of trying to explain, we ended up with a picture of our knees and part of the table. Mama has never seen a digital camera (or maybe any camera) before. I went to bed with a belly full of cheese, twislers, and oreos! I can't remember those things ever making me so happy at home. Thanks again everyone for all the wonderful birthday wishes. I can't wait to update you again once I am a sworn-in Peace corps volunteer.

Today my brain is as cloudy as the Loitokitok sky

Not sure what witty things I am going to come up with in this post. I have been introduced to a few difficult things in Kenya the past few days. A few days ago when I was at the hospital visiting an HIV/Aids support group I was actually able to understand parts of the conversation, which was entirely in Kiswahili! It felt like such an amazing accomplishment. The group then showed us to the room where they perform HIV tests and the doctor in the room invited us in. Of course there is no such thing as HIPPA (the rules that keep your medical information confidential in America) in Africa. So our group of 4 enter the room where the doctor is sitting with a small child. She appeared to be 11-12 years old and the doctor explained that this "mother" was raped a few weeks ago, is now pregnant, and getting tested for HIV. Words can't even describe the sad/distant look on her face and we were all at a loss for what to do next... other than leave the room with tears tugging at the corner of our eyes. On our way out of the hospital an expectant mother was being rushed in from an ambulance about to give birth. This "mother" also couldn't have been over the age of 15 or 16. I think we all had heavy hearts that day.

We have met several serving peace corps volunteers throughout training and I met one yesterday who is from Seattle! I don't think I have ever felt homesick before, but he showed me a Blue Scholars music video filmed in Seattle and I found myself with damp eyes for the second time this week! I got a photo album in the mail from Adam with pictures of everyone at home and I know I expected to miss people at home, so I felt more joy than sadness with those pictures. I think it was something about the views of Seattle that made me so sad because it was a depiction of my LIFE in Seattle and in America. Even my hardest days in Seattle seem insignificant compared to my bucket-bathing-pooping-in-a-hole-without-any-cheese-or-coffee life in Africa.

I think Africa must have known I missed Seattle, because its cold and cloudy today. Hehe. On the brighter side of things, i'm not sick of it yet! There are small victories and moments every day that make me happy to be here. I cook dinner over the fire for 2 hours with my host mama every evening and her limited English is as good as my limited Swahili, but I feel like we are finally able to have meaningful conversations about life. I also feel completely Kenyan because I ordered Githeri and Chai for lunch today (beans and corn mixed together and a cup of tea). I can't wait to show you all pictures of what I do and where i've been. I miss you terribly, but I will continue to miss you from my new home in Kenya!

Swahili and Swanglish

     I have had several tests this week on my Swahili skills and as I was walking up the hill to my one-on-one verbal test this morning I realized there were so many funny parts of the Swahili language that I want to share with you all. I'd like to start by saying that I scored "novice-high" in my proficiency, which is one step below the "intermediate-low" that we have to obtain before week 8 of training. I'm hoping to get that score by monday if I study well enough this weekend!!
     Swhahili 101: when in doubt, just add an "i" to the end of any english word. For example the swahili word for "cheese" is "chezi" (pronounced cheesy). The Swahili word for "shirt" is "shati" (pronouced shirti but with a british accent). Some words are not this easy however, for example, the word for green pepper is "pilipilihoho" and watermelon is "tikitimaji." These have been fun words that we throw around just for shits and giggles.
     Gusa: My last name is very simple for Kenyans to say and remember because the word "Guza" means touch in Kiswahili and its pronounced the same as my last name. You can also use the word "kupunguza" which means to bargain, "kuuguza" which means the act of being a nurse, or "kuuza" which means to sell.
     One last thing that I absolutely must comment on is the way Kenyans use the english words "smart" and "sweet" for everything. I have gathered enough information to realize that if something is "sweet" it literally means that it is good. A very salty food is considered "sweet" if you like the way it tastes. My host mama and sister ask me constantly if things are "sweet" and were very concerned that I wasn't going to eat any of the food because for my first few weeks I told them that nothing was sweet (and that is because it was literally salty.) oops. The second word "smart" is used for anything but typically about dress. Not a day goes by that my mama doesn't say my skirt is smart, or my hair is smart, or my shoes are smart. Last weekend she even told me "the smart market doesn't start until 10am."
      Last but not least, I think you will all be tickled to know that my host family's last name is Kariuki and it is pronounced Karaoke. I desperately attempted to explain Karaoke to my family and i'm sure they still don't understand what i'm talking about. That's all for now! Enjoy the Swanglish!

Vyakula cha Kenya (Foods of Kenya)

     Each time I sit at the internet cafe I can never think of how to summarize my life. I think I hit the basics in my first post, and now it is time for specifics. Chakula means food and Vyakula means foods in Kiswahili. I have learned that food is the heart, soul, life and being of Kenya. I remember hearing all my friends saying to me "eat as much as you can before you leave because you are going to loose so much weight in Kenya!" Well if any of them had actually seen the portion size of a typical Kenyan meal, they probably would have held their tongues. For example, last sunday afternoon my 10 year old host sister ate approximately 3 cups of cooked rice covered in what would amount to a large bowl of potato and banana stew. It was like she ordered a meal at "Claim Jumper" and finished the whole thing in a matter of minutes. I will also mention that she is the tallest/leanest 10 year old I have ever seen.
      Food here in Kenya consists of the same staple ingredients. Rice, spaghetti noodles, ugali (tasteless blob of cooked corn meal), chapati bread, beans, beans, beans, lentils, stewed cabbage, stewed spinach, beans, mystery meat, boiled root (various sorts), potatoes, plantains (or green bananas),and beans, all served with a healthy dose of lard. I'm sure weight watchers will never include these ingredients in any of their meal planning. I have had the misfortune of eating cow intestine soup (wantam) and I have also had the experience of a daily "bean or chapati baby" in my belly.
     Chai. Those four letters have been a sore subject for those in my group with lactose intolerance issues. Chai is made with whole milk straight from the cow teet, water, and tea leaves boiled together and drank several specific times throughout the day with ,if you are a true Kenyan, a whole cup of sugar per cup. My host Mama insists that I have at least 2 cups of chai with breakfast, then another few immediately upon returning home from class. I am not allowed to touch my homework, study, bathe, or change my filthy clothes until I have thrown back a few cups of chai. I have developed a love for this warm tasty beverage and I find myself craving it at breakfast, 10am, lunch, 5pm, and with dinner as most Kenyans drink it. My mama even throws in a little tangaweze (ginger) when she makes tea in the afternoons. Its a rare treat when I get the tangaweze tainted chai.
     There is no shortage of carbohydrates and fat in my life, but I would do just about anything (within the rules of Peace Corps) for some cheese. Hell, i'd even eat a block of velveta at this point! There is literally no cheese in this entire country. None. I would also do just about anything for a real cup of coffee. Believe it or not, but every bean grown in Kenya is exported. I am left with the most awful instant coffees known to man. So if anyone has some free time, please send me a french press and maybe to return the exported coffee beans back into Kenya for me to consume. Until next time! hugs and kisses from Kenya.