Delicacies of Kenya

I have had the opportunity to try many different foods in all the countries I have visited.

Gibnut: Belize (Small wild guinnea pig type rodent)

Jerk Chicken: Jamaica

Termites: Guatemala (The tiny ones found in trees and they taste like mint)

Chicken cartilage and Octopus: Japan

Tatarak: Czech Republic (Raw ground beef patty covered in a raw egg yolk)

Wild Boar: Hawaii

Cream Cheese Hot Dogs: Seattle, WA

My palate in Kenya has been a strange mixture of local and “lets see if this goes together” type of foods.

Githeri (Nyoyo): This is by far my favorite Kenyan dish. It consists of beans and corn being boiled together for hours. For those of you that know how I love my corn, you know I can’t go wrong! Give me a bowl of this stuff and a cup of chai and it’s a meal!

Matumbo: While learning Swahili, I was also learning the different names for foods. One fateful lunch I accidentally ordered this dish instead of the bowl of beans I had intended. I was horrified to receive a bowl of steaming cow intestine. Mmmm. One bite was enough, and I sent it back for beans.

Samaki (fish): For those of you that know me well, know that fish has never been a food of choice for me. I have sampled some of the finest Pacific Northwest Salmon and had homemade fried fish that I caught myself in a Minnesota Lake. I have tried it all, and never had a taste for it. Strangely enough what started out as an “I’ll eat it out of respect” turned into a genuine enjoyment of Lake Victoria’s sweet Tilapia. While visiting one of the Islands out in Lake Victoria, I found myself eating an entire fish for lunch and dinner.

Peanuts: My staple food. When you go to the supermarket at home and buy a bag of peanuts, you have no appreciation for what goes in to producing that nice, dried, edible nut. When a neighbor gave me a plastic bag of peanuts dug up from the ground I had no idea what to do with them. For your information they can be shelled, boiled and eaten immediately. They can also be dried, shelled, rinsed, then baked and eaten.  Seems like a lot of work, but sometimes I have nothing better to do than sit on my porch and shell peanuts (that I must then rinse and bake before eating).

Kuku (chicken): Another food that you take for granted that you can just take it home and eat it; or just buy the pieces you want to eat. Here in Kenya, $2-3 will buy you an entire chicken. The catch is that you have to slaughter it, pluck it, chop it up, and then decide what you want to do with it. I would give anything to cut a chicken open and discover its body is entirely composed of white breast meat! You know how people in America pay almost double the price for a chicken that is “free-range Organic.” Well, they can take my stringy, lean, tiny breasted chicken and I will gladly take the genetically modified, steroidally enhanced,  and juicy 2lb breasted chicken that has done nothing but sit in its pretty little cage. Sad, I know.

Meat: About 80 cents will buy me ¼ kilo of pure beef. Most Kenyans prefer the fatty pieces, so I can get a pretty nice cut for a good price. The only problem is that all the meat in Kenya tastes like a rotten, rancid, piece of gamey mystery meat. How on earth do we get our meat in America to taste like meat? Is this how meat really tasted before we regulated our cattle’s diet and pumped them with antibiotics? Anybody know how to turn a dead animal into a tasty meal?

Salad: The one thing Kenya does really well is garden fresh produce. The carrots are the sweetest carrots I have ever tasted. The green peppers and tomatoes have such powerful flavors that you hardly need more than olive oil and a little salt to call it a salad. Every person has their own chamba (garden) in which they grow what they need. It is fantastic. Now, if I could only get the people in my village to grow more than just kale, tomatoes, and onions.

Termites: Enjoying a warm beer I see a woman walk into the bar with a giant tub of “snacks.” These termites were essentially tasteless except for the salt on them. The bad part was how juicy their bodies were… like those gushers fruit snacks. The worst part was that some of them were not dead yet. It was awful having to watch the few live ones struggle to walk over the graveyard of dead ones in my plastic bag.

Obama: Because everything in Nyanza province begins and ends with Obama.

Me: “I’m from America.”

Kenyan: “Oh you mean you are from Obama’s country?”

Another Kenyan: “Ah, you are from the land of Obama!”

On another note, the only English spoken during my 5 hours in church today was when everyone shouted: “Yes we can!”

Things you just do not expect

It’s a Friday night and I’m going to meet my friends in the town of Kisii tomorrow so I can’t wait to fall asleep. The only problem is that there is a funeral in the soccer field that is literally 100 meters outside my bedroom window. When I say funeral, I mean a Luo funeral which to the untrained ear could sound more like a wedding or a crazy block party. I kept looking at my clock wondering how late the bass would bumping and how long I would have to lay awake listening to someone yelling into a loudspeaker while blasting Kenyan and reggae tunes. I remember thinking, the sun will start coming up at 6am and people have to start heading home by then right? I was absolutely wrong and the music continued until I left for Kisii the following morning at 9am. Needless to say, I was completely exhausted and sleep deprived as I walked myself to my bathroom to use the toilet and wash up a little bit.

My “toilet” is a grand porcelain looking bowl that is cemented into the floor. It can be “flushed” by pouring a few pitchers of water into it and gravity does the rest. I have become accustomed to using it and really have no problem squatting and doing my business. Today was different. I was squatting down and happened to see what looked like a tarantula claw crawling out of the dark hole and making its way up the side of the porcelain bowl. I jumped up mid-stream and backed up towards the door to the bathroom to try and figure out what in the world was in my toilet. From my vantage point with my back against the door and my tired, bloodshot eyes trying to make out the shape of this creature, I determined it was either a rat or a bat and I had not the patience or energy to deal with it.

Upon my return on Sunday my bat friend was still clutching the sides of the toilet bowl but unable to climb out. I determined it was a bat because I used my camera to take a closer look at the thing without having to be physically so close. I guess I figured having it nearly between my legs the day before was as close as I ever cared to get to it again. I kindly asked my co-worker to help me with a “problem” and he came to remove the creature from my toilet. With two long sticks he picked up the bat, brought it outside and smashed its head against a rock as it let out a little batty squeak. Before coming to Africa there were many things that I mentally prepared myself for: feeling dirty, living without running water or electricity, getting sick etc. Peeing on a bat that was stuck in my squat toilet was definitely not on any such list…

Village Polio Vaccinations

I wake up in the morning, strap on my chaco sandals, fortify myself with a big breakfast (today it was rice with milk and cinnamon, an Avocado the size of my head, and some tea), pack my bag full of water, a PB&J,  sliced carrots, and I’m ready. We do a thorough check to make sure we have the right paperwork and all the vaccines have been put in the cooler and begin the morning walk.

Me and Emmanuel drew the map of the village we were going to today and I’m lucky he knows where we are going because our map consisted of a square with the name “Aguom” on it. There are no paved roads or landmarks where we are going other than the river that we would have to cross to get to some of the homes. We walk down dirt trails, cross through corn fields, and I joke that it is like we are on a scavenger hunt because once we reach a house we have to ask them where the next house is. It’s like we are picking up little clues as we go along. Some of the homes are as long as 10 minutes walk from each other. We are searching for every child we can find under the age of 5 to give them the polio vaccine. At our clinic we vaccinate against the Polio 1 strain, but the outbreak in our village was of the Polio 3 strain and we must try and reach as many children as possible to vaccinate against both strains. The polio vaccination is easy because all you have to do is drop 2 drops in the child’s mouth. We then record the child on our tally sheet, mark their left pinky finger with a henna marker and write a code on the door to their home to signify we have been there. I used my limited Luo to greet the families, thank them or say goodbye; most chuckle and smile saying “Oh you know Luo!” I suppose my three words have now made me fluent in the language. We walk in the sun for hours, without food or bathroom breaks, and I soon realize the sunscreen I put on is probably not sufficient. I can see the dirt and scratches on my legs from bushwhacking from house to house and my favorite part was the “bridge” we had to cross. It was like something from Dirty Dancing; just logs thrown across to bridge the gap between land. I was also amused by the children who shriek in fear of me. Yesterday the small toddler covered her eyes when she saw me and started wailing and crying when I came close. Today it was a small boy who was around 3 years old. His mother had to chase after him through the field because he ran away when he saw me. He was thrashing around in his mother’s arms trying to get away and screaming at the top of his lungs when I got close. I had to let Emmanuel do everything (vaccination and mark the child) because he would only calm down when I walked away. I suppose if I saw a green skinned person in Seattle, I might be taken aback or wonder what sort of disease they had etc.

I finally ate my lunch on the walk home and though my feet were aching and I could feel the tingle of sunburn on my skin, my heart was full. For the second day in a row, we vaccinated over 100 kids!

Chenin Blanc and Cheddar Cheese

Home Sweet Home

The clinic where I live and work. My room is the yellow door in the middle behind the tree.

I live despairingly far away from civilization. I am 12 kilometers from the nearest town which houses a supermarket and since I will be kicked out of the Peace Corps if I ride a pikipiki (motorcycle) into town AND since it would take me almost 3 hours round trip to ride my bike to town, gets dark at 6:30pm, and I get off work at 4pm, do the math… I am pretty far away from some of the basic things I need to survive on (like wheat bread, oatmeal, sunflower oil, rice etc.). On Wednesdays and Sundays I have the fortune of walking 15 minutes to a local market for: tomato, kale, oranges, bananas, and potatoes. If I am lucky they have onions or eggs, maybe both if it’s not raining. Oh yeah, and it rains just about every afternoon.  What I am getting at, is that it’s imperative to my nutritional status for me to stock up on some key non-perishable items that I, both, like to eat and know how to cook. It’s also imperative to my sanity that I get a bag of salt and vinegar potato chips every once in a while.  I was getting low on food for consumption which lead me to make a version of “fried rice,” but all I had to put in it was garlic, tomato, eggs, and soy sauce. It really turned out to be a sort of salty Spanish rice with egg in it. I broke down and asked sister Tina to take me to Rongo or Kisii the next time she was driving there.

Today was that day. We drove the 30 minute drive to Kisii so I could do some shopping at the Nakumat  and Tuskys (Kenya’s versions of walmart). Sister had told me she wanted to get her internet modem fixed, so I ran my errands around town going to the bank and stocking up on minutes for my phone while she did her computer stuff. We then went to the Tuskys right in town to do some grocery shopping. Sister said to me, and I quote, “oh I don’t need much. I really don’t need to do any shopping.” I assured her that I had a list and knew what I wanted and promised to be in-and-out. We agreed to meet in the front of the store when we were both finished. In a somewhat leisurely yet focused pace, I expertly managed my way through the store picking up each and every item I needed to fill my cupboards. I finished my shopping, paid for my items and walked to the front of the store to drink my yogurt. Yes, I had to drink my yogurt because it’s nice and runny here in Kenya and I frankly didn’t care because it’s the first time I have had yogurt in a couple months. I honestly didn’t even think twice when I realized the seal was broken and parts of the yogurt were dried spilling out of the top of the lid. I’ll let you know if I get sick… it’s supposed to be “good” bacteria right? I stood there waiting for sister Tina.

Waiting in the front of a busy store in Kenya is no easy task. There are young Kenyan men that walk up to say “How are you” attempting conversation but can’t go much further than that. There are men who stare from a distance. I’m talking about the stalker sort of attempting-to-lock-eyes-but-continually-alternating-glances-from-head-to-toe-while-slowly-turning-their-body-towards-you-and-winking-or-head-knodding-in-attempts-to-make-the-staring-more-intense kind of stalker creepy. I sometimes forget that my skin looks so different because the people in my village are so welcoming, and I don’t have a mirror to constantly remind me of what I look like. However, there is nothing like a good waiting period in front of a busy store to remind you that your skin is blindingly white, your hair is yellow and fluffy, and no matter how hard you try to dress like the locals… you always look funny. I had a nice conversation with Adam on the phone which helped me escape for a little bit. After our chat, the security guard graciously brought me a plastic chair to sit in. I didn’t even realize how tired my legs were, or how long I had actually been standing there. The guys bagging groceries were taking turns staring at me, in that creepy stalker way, and I exchanged glances with almost everyone who entered the store. I looked at my watch only to realize I had been standing, now sitting, in front of this store for an hour! What happened to “I don’t really need to do any shopping?” What on gods green earth was sweet 4 foot tall sister Tina doing? This place was hardly a quarter the size of an American grocery store and she lives here, so she can’t be nearly as star-struck as I get with the “bounty” of stuff on the shelves?  More staring and nodding from the grocery baggers.  No marriage proposals yet, but it could have only been a matter of time. Thankfully I see the tippy top of Tina’s head in one of the checkout lines. Grocery list obviously included: 3 loafs of bread, shoes, rice, sanitary pads and a garden hose. Nice.

It started to rain on our way home, like it does almost every afternoon. But, it was the nice kind of rain. It was the kind of rain where the sky opens up in a downpour, but you can still see the sun shining. As we got closer to home I had one of those “I can’t believe I live here” moments. My village is beautiful, lush and green. Sometimes it reminds me of Maui because there are velvety green rolling hills and fields of sugar cane and banana. Kenya definitely has its ups and downs. I may not be eating the foods that I want to or enjoying all the pleasures of life. But I have learned that nothing could make me happier right now than a beautiful sunset, warm cheddar cheese, and a room temperature glass of Chenin Blanc.

Sunset at the field behind the clinic



Things I’ve forgotten were not “normal”:

Every culture has its own set of beliefs, values, and sense of what behavior is acceptable. I can imagine my Kenyan counterparts have their own list of “things the strange Mzungu does.” As I have come to adapt to the culture I realized there are some things that have stopped surprising me and I have taken them to be “normal.”

1.       Masai men can be seen in traditional dress (i.e. red robes, beaded jewelry, and a stick) walking down any street.

2.       “How are you” is used as a general greeting and not meant to actually find out how you are doing.

3.       The response to “how are you” is ALWAYS “I am fine” no matter what.

4.       Tea, or chai is compulsory.

5.       “No” means “yes” especially when a man is asking a woman on a date.

6.       “You look smart” does not mean you look intelligent, and often times it actually is used to mean you look strange, or ill-dressed.

7.       Washing clothes should be done bent over a bucket on the ground without any sign of a bend in your knees.

8.       If you feel tired, you have malaria.

9.       If you have a fever, you have malaria.

10.   If you have a headache, you have malaria.

11.   A western style toilet is of no practical use if it does not flush.

12.   When a meeting is scheduled to begin at 10AM, no one is expected until 10:30 or 11.

13.   If a gathering is planned from 10AM-1PM, at least a quarter of the participants will arrive at 1PM.

14.   If an individual does not know the answer to a question, an answer will be made up and vehemently defended without regard to common sense. This is often seen when asking directions.

15.   When asking directions the answer is always “it is near” whether the destination is 10 feet or 10 miles away.

16.   Small children think white skin feels different than black skin.

17.   There is no time limit for blatant staring.

18.   Plastic garbage bags make perfectly fine rain coats.

19.   It is acceptable to write IOU’s for services rendered.

20.   It is perfectly acceptable to say you do not have change.

21.   Upon arriving at a shop to buy goods one must first locate a small child who will then be sent to find the shop owner.  Approximately 10-20 minutes later once the shop owner has arrived one must search their vocabulary to determine the appropriate language to speak.  After being told that this particular bread shop does not have any bread to speak of, one must thank the shop owner and hope for better results tomorrow.

22.   A menu at a restaurant is merely for decoration.

23.   Oranges are not orange.

24.   A meal without 3 types of starch is not considered a meal.

25.   Beer is sold, served, and drank at room temperature. In Kenya this is typically 75 degrees F.

26.   Ice does not exist.

27.   Despite the abundance of tomatoes, ketchup is labeled “tomato sauce” and generally has the taste and consistency of pink unflavored gelatin.

28.   Work ceases if it is “too cold” or raining.

29.   Dogs are an annoying creature that should be beaten, not fed, and expected to guard the home.

30.   If you see a place to wash your hands, do not expect soap. If you find soap, do not expect it to be clean. If you do happen find soap that is not covered with dirt, do not expect it to be there tomorrow.

31.   If you ask any public transit where they are going, they will immediately ask you where YOU are going and claim that is where they are headed.

32.   There is no such thing as customer service.

33.   If you order eggs and bread for breakfast, do not expect eggs and bread.

34.   If you are purchasing 6 tomatoes and have established a price, after paying you then ask the seller to “add a little” to which you will  be given one or two additional small tomatoes.

35.   Something is wrong with you if you do not own land and grow crops regardless of profession.

I could quite honestly continue forever... but i'm sure thats enough for now.

It's a girl!

Today was a fantastic day. I woke up and started my day with a few lunges and crunches in my little home. It felt good to get the blood pumping a little bit. This was followed by a failed attempt at french toast so I had the usual oatmeal instead and the best cup of coffee I’ve had in a long time. My French press makes a whopping 12 cup so I took my time enjoying about 5 of those. There is something therapeutic about having a 9am start to your work day and it’s especially easy when you live at your work place. Needless to say, I was feeling pretty good.

I started in the maternal-child health clinic where I assessed a few expectant mothers measuring their bellies and listening to the fetus’s heart rate through an old school looking cone shaped device. I always feel like I’m back in the 1800’s when I use that thing. Then I registered a few babies while sister Gaudie administered their immunizations. As soon as we cleared the line, I walked to the main clinic to see if anyone needed help. The woman who was in a motorcycle accident a few days ago was back again to get her dressings changed. Emmanuel, the lab tech guy, was about to do the dressing change and I could tell he was relieved that I stepped in for him. She has 5 major wounds on her knees and all over her face. They have been improving pretty well considering all I have to work with is iodine and gauze to dress the wounds. (I’d give anything for some santyl or collagenase right now for all you nurses out there). I can’t communicate with this woman in words because she is older and only speaks Luo but I try and be as gentle as possible while I’m exfoliating the dead skin off her cheek and she smiles at me, knowing I’m doing the best I can. I’m not sure how far she has to walk to get to the clinic, but I know she has been coming diligently every day since her accident to pay approximately 50 cents (that she probably doesn’t have) to pay for treatment.

In the next room over, we have an 18 year old girl who has been in labor since last night. Her contractions started to become stronger around lunchtime and after her water broke, I knew it wouldn’t be too much longer before we had a new baby in the world! Now some of the Kenyan women I have seen in labor hardly make a sound and you wouldn’t even know they were giving birth until you hear the newborn baby cry. This birth was not one of them… Nurse Pheobe was on the business end of things making sure she was fully dilated and checking for the head to show up. Our mother-to-be asked me for water which she threw all over herself as she thrashed around on the bed. She almost pulled her IV out and she was clutching me for dear life with each round of contractions. Pheobe yelled at the girl telling her she was going to kill the baby if she didn’t push like she was supposed to. I did my best to comfort our new mommy by letting her grab onto me and helping her push with each contraction. After what seemed like eternity, we had a new beautiful baby girl!

Another mom had given birth on her way to the hospital, so after getting mom #1 settled in bed with her baby, I got to weigh and assess baby #2 while Sister Gaudie took a look at the mom. I think I was the most excited person in the whole clinic as I proudly announced that there were “two beautiful baby girls” to the people in the waiting room who understood nothing of what I said. The day wrapped up with a flashlight and tweezers as Sister Suzie asked me to take the “insect” out of her ear. Unfortunately it had crawled back into the depths of her ear before I could take it out. Now I am just waiting for the houseboy from the convent to bring me my chicken to slaughter for dinner tonight. My mouth is watering already. All in all, I couldn’t ask for more today.

Mom #1

Mom #2

Polio outbreaks and fish

The news came to me while I was gone this weekend and it felt like I was getting a telegram from the 1930’s or something! There was a confirmed case of polio in a 3 year old girl at the Rongo District Hospital. It seems so strange that there is a CURE for this disease, yet the newsletter accurately stated that Polio will continue to be a threat to the world if even one child has it. Time to beef up on the vaccinations!

On a lighter note, I would like to describe my weekend get-away to Mfungano Island. Me, brother Richard and four of the sisters hopped in their car at 6am Saturday morning. I got to witness a beautiful sunrise around 6:30 and we had an impromptu breakfast at the side of the road where I shared the left-over fried chicken I made the night before. (I chopped the head off with a dull knife… it took nearly twice as long as it should have because the knife was so dull. Pictures say a thousand words, so check out the chronicles on facebook). We then had to take an hour and a half boat ride from the town of Mbita across Lake Victoria before finally reaching the Island. It was so nice to be near the water. I find myself truly missing the sound, feel and look of being around water. I almost felt as though I was riding through the San Juan Islands at home, except the boat was really more of a ramshackle canoe so that brought me back to Africa real quick.

We got a tour of the Catholic Church compound, health clinic, and youth center and ate our second breakfast. Next we walked down to the lake shore and I taught the sisters how to skip rocks. It was nice to bask in the sunlight a little, even though I was covered from head to toe with my long skirt and blouse. Then we were called back for lunch, and since fish is such a prized possession around the lake, I ate and actually enjoyed a nice fillet of Tilapia. Those of you who know me best probably won’t believe me when I say this, but I ate fish for lunch and dinner two days straight this weekend. The father then took us again to the lake shore to help the locals fish. This consists of spending, sometimes, over an hour dragging in a single net that has been deposited on the opposite side of the lake. It makes you appreciate where the fish comes from after getting blisters on your hands and feeling tired after only a single hour. These people do this from sunrise to sunset day after day. It was incredible to watch, and help! At one point during a stroll down the beach there were two young boys (maybe 3 years old) who came running as fast as they could to meet us yelling “muzungu, muzungu, amosi, amosi!” That means hey white girl, I greet you. Sister Gaudie thought it was so funny that they wrapped their arms around my legs like they knew me and then persisted to follow me around for the next few hours. I almost had a small child wrapped around every one of my fingers during our stroll.

We went back to the compound for porridge while we waited for dinner to be ready.  I honestly felt like I was at grandma and grandpas house because all these Kenyans wanted to do was feed me every scrap of home cookin’ they could! The food and hospitality was amazing. At church the next morning I was asked to introduce myself to the congregation, then the father announced to everyone that “Christina will be bringing her parents here next year!” FYI mom and dad… I ate more, and ate more, until it was finally time to leave. I’m sure I will fall into a deep sleep tonight.