Although I just recently sent one and all an email highlighting the wonderful experiences of life in Nairobi, I feel compelled to write again especially after my most recent experience.
One of the girls on the program, Bria, is staying with a woman who works for Mother's Love, a group that brings together women who are living and barely surviving in Kibera, the largest slum in Nairobi. I don't know all the facts, but I believe it is one of the largest in the world. Yesterday afternoon, seven of us responded to her mother's pleas to join her on a visit to three of these mothers and their families. Directly after class we went to the market and purchased for each family two loaves of bread, three cartons of milk, maize flour, and sugar, and walked the several kilometers to Bria's home. After meeting her mother, Beatrice, we dropped off our bags, and grabbed only our cameras, at Beatrice's request, hidden in small bags. Accompanied by her house help and good friend we all walked across the street, and entered Kibera.
"How are you, how are you, how are you!", chanted all the smiling children at the first sight of our white skin. We clutched the bags hiding our shiny, silver valuables as we entered a world of uncertainty. Walking carefully down an intensely packed dirt hill lined with plastic bags, well-eaten cobs of corn, and innumerable other indistinguishable items, our noses were nailed with odors of all shades we have never quite experienced before. Masses of people were heading in and out of this contained city and some of them stared, some of them took no notice of us at all as we climbed back up a similar hill to a high ridge. At the top were railroad tracks which you had to assume were long forgotten as hundreds of people were making their way along this high path to reach their homes below. Beatrice told us we could now take out our cameras as our eyes focused on what was before us. Sprawling as far as our eyes could see was something we had each perhaps seen before on TV, but may have assumed was exaggerated with special effects.
Down the hill and up another, and down some more, all the way to the horizon were earthen, dung, and corrugated homes, woven together in something of a masterpiece. Movement could be seen in every tiny crevice and smoke rose here and there through the mass of dwellings. We took out our cameras and began to shoot, and little smiling faces made their chanting way in front of our lenses. Shot after shot we took of these surprisingly well dressed and clean little babes just coming home from school. Turning toward the tracks we noticed the men walking their bikes in their nice suits, and we recognized them as the same men riding along Ngong Road, the backbone of the city on 50 shillings a day, coming home to no electricity or toilets.
We walked along the tracks a bit until we reached our path, our turn, and in good time... there was a train coming. Down the hill we went, weaving and bowing under rooftops, stepping over trenches containing the filth of all the thousands, thousands of residents. Children continued to run up with their chant and an outreached hand wanting nothing more than a shake from your own. Women lined the sides frying fish, samosas, and fries, smiling at us as we passed and most calling out a "Kariboo" -- Welcome. By now we had began to feel more comfortable, and we kept our cameras out and stopped continually taking pictures of all whom wanted theirs taken.
We finally made it to our first destination, the home of Beatrice's house help. We all squeezed into her little place, which was the same size as all the other homes we were to visit that afternoon, about 12x12. On the one metal framed couch, we piled in, and one after the other family members came in and sat around us where they could. There was one sheet covering a back area smaller than the size of a twin bed, where we assumed the older ones slept. We were allowed to ask anything and "Please, please" take as many pictures as we wanted. This woman lives here with her nine children. Her youngest baby boy is sick, and no one knows why. They do not attend school, even though primary school was made free to all by President Kibaki, for they don't have the shoes to wear. None of them had eaten all day. They only had the clothes they were wearing, and access to water was a difficult journey; and very expensive.
We had to move on as the sun sets early and we were in the middle of the largest electricity desert in the city. At Beatrice's request, we were led in a prayer by Bria, focusing especially on the little boy. It was too much for us visitors and the tears started as we watched these young, desperate children soak up every foreign word. After presenting our bag of food, we proceeded to our second home.We were greeted by an excited woman with the biggest smile in Kibera. She grabbed each one of us and gave us the strongest hugs we'd felt since leaving the States. We again took a seat where we could, Julia found one on a half exposed bed where she also found a half-naked undisturbed baby. She scooped up the little girl and cradled her as we fired our questions out.
Agnes, our host, could barely speak English, but threw out a laugh at everything we said, as life alone appeared to be pure joy in her eyes. She earns her money by babysitting up to ten children a day for 30Ksh a piece. She has five children of her own and one grandson. One of her children attends school, the others "do nothing". She apologized that she could not serve us tea, but begged us to visit her again. And we will. More prayers, and we wove on.
The third home was one which none of us will ever forget. The woman's name is Emily. She lives in the tiny earthen home with 15 children; half of them hers, half the children of her sister, who died of AIDS. Two of the young children are HIV positive and one of those also has TB and therefore cannot walk. Emily also has HIV. Through her tremendous smile she told us her story. How her parents, her husband, and all four of her siblings have died. She gets treatment for her sick children, but cannot afford her own. She doesn't know what to do. She told us again and again that our visit meant the world to her. She, like the others, asked nothing more of us. They never even glanced at the bags of food, or expected us to open our pockets. They just thanked us for seeing them, and we'd sit like a family, holding each other, realizing how the power of the human touch truly enlightens the spirit. And like the others, she asked that we visit as much as possible.
I don't think, after the amazing reception we received, and the lessons we learned, we could possibly stay away.
Thanks for reading.
Emily Sara
Thursday, September 20, 2007
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
And For The Second Installment...
Hamjambo! Habari za Amerika? Katika Jamhuri, nyumbani ni salama sana. Ninapenda mama, baba, na kaka, Kevin. Ninaenda chuo kikuu cha Nazerene kwa miguu. Kazi sana. Juzi, nilienda nyumbani cha Karen Blixen kwa basi. Nilirudi nyumbani kwa basi na miguu na nilitazama "Charlies Angels". Ninapenda chakula ya Kenya. Nzuri sana. But, wao put Vegetable oil in everything, which contains gluten, and I got pretty mgonjwa. So, I can no longer kula out. Chakula cha asubuhi, ninakula yai na ninakunywa kahawa. Chakula cha mchana, katika chuo kikuu, ninakula rice cakes na siagi ya njugu na jelly na matoke chips. Mmmmm tamu. Chakula cha jioni, mama anapika with corn oil, so that I can kula chakula ya Kenya; like mukimo, pilau, na matoke with arrowroot. Do we have arrowroot back home??????? Because I love it! Ninapenda arrowroot, or dhoma in Kikuyu, my mama's tongue.
I am not going to translate any of that because it's not really all that important. But, I want to clarify that Swahili is not a "clicking language" and I am not living in a hut. It is quite civilized here, Nairobi being one of the largest cities in Africa. So, please, when someone wants to know how I'm handling baring my breasts and eating dirt while clicking my way through a conversation, slap them or something. On that note, I would love to thank all of you who have written me. I have received many lovely messages that really make my week, and make me laugh as well. It's good to know you're all out there when I'm so far away. I apologize that I cannot respond to individuals as it took ten minutes just to load up this page. Ten minutes, folks. Try that sometime when the meter's running.
One thing I will tell you from that Swahili jumble is that I mentioned that I went to Karen Blixen's house on Sunday. She wrote "Out of Africa", and the house she lived in is only about 15 minutes away from me; I am right off of Ngong Road, and she lived near that overlooking Ngong Hills as she mentions countless times in her book. I'm actually reading it now, and it is really interesting reading an 80 or so year old novel about the place I am now surrounded by. Just walking up to her home was a vision that stirred me, and I was willing to pay the 200 Ksh to walk into the four rooms they allow you to see... only I didn't have to pay the tourist price. He asked if we were residents, and was quite surprised when our answer was "Ndiyo! Sisi ni wanafunzi katika Nairobi." -- Yes, we are students here in Nairobi. And then we showed him our residency cards which took 100 Ksh off the price. No kidding. In order to be able to do our internships, we had to become residents of Kenya which meant hours at the immigration office filling out paperwork and getting fingerprints. A lot of fingerprints. A lot. So, we walked through her home filled with carcasses and antique furniture and pictures of her and her husband Bror and her lover Denis. The backyard was the real treat. She writes mostly of her land and the views from her terrace. I sat on the deteriorating old stones and looked off beyond her large beautifully landscaped yard, beyond the tall trees each draping with flowers of all sizes and shapes POPping out reds, brilliant purples and oranges and pinks and blues. I stared beyond these fragrant beauties to the Ngong Hills in the distance. These hills... I took a deep breath and felt that same inspiration enter through every part of me. She was inspired to write, which I understand, but it inspired in me many things. I knew it was doing the same to the other wageni. I knew there was inspiration and awe of all ilks pushing out smiles and gratitude in everyone. Indescribable, really, the feelings one has when you come so far...
My wonder and glee went PATUUWY though when I got back on the basi, the citi hoppa, back to Jamhuri. Just because my friend and I were coming from a tourist attraction the conductor was trying to suck more money from us, as though we were ignorant of prices. Even on the way there, after we gave the man the rightful 20 Ksh, he told us it was 30. I objected and pointed out that I just saw him take 20 from the woman next to me. "She's different", he said and quickly added, "You are going to Karen Blixen's". I told him he was very, very wrong as I handed him 10 more shillings. But on the way back I wasn't going to do it. We gave him 20Ksh and he asked us where we were going. I said, "Don't worry about it, we know where we're going". He laughed and walked away but kept coming back and asking. The bus was full, but he kept coming to us. He said it was 40 Ksh to go to town. I said, "We're not going to town, we are residents here, we are going home". "Where is that?" "I am not going to tell you where I live. Go away! Stop bothering us!" But he stayed and told me he wanted more money. By this time I started to recognize the area, so I told him I'm close enough to my house, I'll just get off. He pushed the button for the bus to stop and threw open the door and pushed us out. I was so disturbed I walked home in silence. I waved goodbye to my friend, and sped-walked to my empty home. I didn't know where my family was, and I did not want to face Nairobi anymore for the day, so I threw in the "Charlies Angels" DVD and watched some ladies kick some ass.
The last two days have been dry, thank all that's holy, because I was on the brink, many, many times of completely losing my waterlogged mind. It's been unusually rainy here, and add that to the chill of Nairobi, and you have a lot of wet, muddy, cold, sad, angry, misled, American students. I had been watching the weather for years in this area, knowing all along I wanted to come, so I knew it's not hot on this plateau. But the rain can kiss my patunga. It is a 40 minute walk to school from where I live, and that turned into 50 minutes to an hour on the worst days. It all started when I did my laundry. Of course, "SORRY NAIROBI, I DECIDED TO DO MY LAUNDRY!" The drops began before I even finished. I bailed before I got my pants in the bucket, deciding to wear the dirty buggers for as long as I had to until I had more time to wash. Mama and I got back into our little apartment, and it poured. It poured, you guys. You don't even know what I mean when I say it poured. Well, maybe you do, Craig and Lois, but my God. I kept turning to my little brother asking him if he thought my laundry was done, and he would laugh and laugh. It rained for three days. "Kev, will you go see if my laundry is dry?", everyday after school which was met with more laughter.
Meanwhile, I was wearing the same clothes, no underwear, trudging through mud everyday to and from school. Wait, let me explain the trudging a little better. There is no pavement the entire three and a half kilometers from Jamhuri until about two blocks before The University of Nazarene. Emmy and I, my neighbor and walking partner, try to stick together and hold a conversation, but you have to be so careful about where you step that it became impossible not only to talk to each other, but to have any concept whatsoever of your surroundings. For the first week, I had no idea where anything was, including my home which got pretty scary one night, because I was trying to keep from falling in a hole. We've got cement holes which go into drainage pipes, sidewalk holes which are just mistakes, and perfectly dug holes in the grass and mud which are dug for God knows what, which is what I fell in one time. I kept myself clean, only twisting an ankle, but others have not been so lucky.
When it's raining, however, the holes aren't your biggest enemy. It's the mud. Mud, mud, mud, mud. I used to like the stuff, what had it ever done to me? This is not of the same species that we're used to, I tell you. It has a mind. It grabs on to you, if you're not paying attention, it'll get a good hold and keep you there while your forward momentum keeps going, whoops! Emmy and I fight through it, slowly, slowly. It clings to your shoe and splashes on your legs. By the time you get through one tough spot, your feet are three times as heavy and you're carrying an extra load wondering to yourself, where does it want to go, this intelligent substance... what does it know? I tried to avoid it once by taking the grass route. Yeah, that was smart. I found myself ankle deep in a swamp and no way out but to keep on going. Shoes and socks were a good idea on the wet day until that happened and I spent seven hours at school with cold wet feet. I walk through it, feeling a "This is bullshit" creeping to my lips, but I fight it, ladies and gentlemen. It's so close, it's almost there, but I breathe. I look at Emmy and smile, and know, "I will get through this, I will get through this". And forty five minutes later I do. No big deal, just forty five frickin minutes.
But, like I said, it's been dry now and I am floating on the broken clouds. Yesterday was the first time we saw the sun, and we ran to it. We ate lunch in it. And I rushed home and washed my jeans and my pants in it praying, praying it would hold. Today, I threw on a skirt and sandals even though it was cloudy and cold, because I was thinking positively. The clouds broke again, and when I got home, my pants were dry and folded neatly on my bed, thanks mama.
So this is what I do here. Go to school, study, watch a movie here and there (watched a great Baliwood one in the theater on Saturday), email, eat, hang with friends at the bar, and I'm thinking of joining a gym. Yes, I said gym, even I'm a little shocked by it. See, even though my walk's a pain in the everywhere, the filling starches my mama feeds me do not sit well with no job or regular exercise to keep the heart rate up. There's this little place across the uneven, rocky, muddy way from the front gate of my little building. It's got a doorway with a cloth hanging and I hear music and women doing aerobics inside. Emmy joined and said they were so surprised a woman went into the weight-training portion that she suddenly got her own personal trainer. There isn't much in there, but when I'm dying to go for a walk, and the sun has set, and it's muddy, and it's unsafe, it'd be nice to check and see if the treadmill is working. Plus, I've never done aerobics. I thought it would be a nice way to meet some of the neighbors as well. We'll see. I also thought I might get braids, but scratched the idea when the one girl who got them can't even move them they're so stiff.
So that's where I'm at. Oh, I did miss a great opportunity to cut the ear off a goat head and eat it when I had to turn down an invitation to a small village because I was having a glutentastic glutennightmare. You may not all know, but I have Celiac Disease and am still learning what I can't eat. Vegetable oil I learned is a real killer, and now I'm suspecting emulsifiers that are in chocolate. If anyone has any info on that please let me know. I can't stay online long enough to research it myself. Emulsifiers, flavourings, soya lecithin.. bad? Help! Does Hershey's have them, and if not send it, dammit, send it NOW! Cadbury is killing me and I'm a choco fiend! Either it kills me, or I'm going to kill someone else from withdrawals!!!
Done with the tangent. Love you all. Eat well, stay safe. Be there on my return. Kwa heri.
Your rafiki, dada, and daughter,
Emily
I am not going to translate any of that because it's not really all that important. But, I want to clarify that Swahili is not a "clicking language" and I am not living in a hut. It is quite civilized here, Nairobi being one of the largest cities in Africa. So, please, when someone wants to know how I'm handling baring my breasts and eating dirt while clicking my way through a conversation, slap them or something. On that note, I would love to thank all of you who have written me. I have received many lovely messages that really make my week, and make me laugh as well. It's good to know you're all out there when I'm so far away. I apologize that I cannot respond to individuals as it took ten minutes just to load up this page. Ten minutes, folks. Try that sometime when the meter's running.
One thing I will tell you from that Swahili jumble is that I mentioned that I went to Karen Blixen's house on Sunday. She wrote "Out of Africa", and the house she lived in is only about 15 minutes away from me; I am right off of Ngong Road, and she lived near that overlooking Ngong Hills as she mentions countless times in her book. I'm actually reading it now, and it is really interesting reading an 80 or so year old novel about the place I am now surrounded by. Just walking up to her home was a vision that stirred me, and I was willing to pay the 200 Ksh to walk into the four rooms they allow you to see... only I didn't have to pay the tourist price. He asked if we were residents, and was quite surprised when our answer was "Ndiyo! Sisi ni wanafunzi katika Nairobi." -- Yes, we are students here in Nairobi. And then we showed him our residency cards which took 100 Ksh off the price. No kidding. In order to be able to do our internships, we had to become residents of Kenya which meant hours at the immigration office filling out paperwork and getting fingerprints. A lot of fingerprints. A lot. So, we walked through her home filled with carcasses and antique furniture and pictures of her and her husband Bror and her lover Denis. The backyard was the real treat. She writes mostly of her land and the views from her terrace. I sat on the deteriorating old stones and looked off beyond her large beautifully landscaped yard, beyond the tall trees each draping with flowers of all sizes and shapes POPping out reds, brilliant purples and oranges and pinks and blues. I stared beyond these fragrant beauties to the Ngong Hills in the distance. These hills... I took a deep breath and felt that same inspiration enter through every part of me. She was inspired to write, which I understand, but it inspired in me many things. I knew it was doing the same to the other wageni. I knew there was inspiration and awe of all ilks pushing out smiles and gratitude in everyone. Indescribable, really, the feelings one has when you come so far...
My wonder and glee went PATUUWY though when I got back on the basi, the citi hoppa, back to Jamhuri. Just because my friend and I were coming from a tourist attraction the conductor was trying to suck more money from us, as though we were ignorant of prices. Even on the way there, after we gave the man the rightful 20 Ksh, he told us it was 30. I objected and pointed out that I just saw him take 20 from the woman next to me. "She's different", he said and quickly added, "You are going to Karen Blixen's". I told him he was very, very wrong as I handed him 10 more shillings. But on the way back I wasn't going to do it. We gave him 20Ksh and he asked us where we were going. I said, "Don't worry about it, we know where we're going". He laughed and walked away but kept coming back and asking. The bus was full, but he kept coming to us. He said it was 40 Ksh to go to town. I said, "We're not going to town, we are residents here, we are going home". "Where is that?" "I am not going to tell you where I live. Go away! Stop bothering us!" But he stayed and told me he wanted more money. By this time I started to recognize the area, so I told him I'm close enough to my house, I'll just get off. He pushed the button for the bus to stop and threw open the door and pushed us out. I was so disturbed I walked home in silence. I waved goodbye to my friend, and sped-walked to my empty home. I didn't know where my family was, and I did not want to face Nairobi anymore for the day, so I threw in the "Charlies Angels" DVD and watched some ladies kick some ass.
The last two days have been dry, thank all that's holy, because I was on the brink, many, many times of completely losing my waterlogged mind. It's been unusually rainy here, and add that to the chill of Nairobi, and you have a lot of wet, muddy, cold, sad, angry, misled, American students. I had been watching the weather for years in this area, knowing all along I wanted to come, so I knew it's not hot on this plateau. But the rain can kiss my patunga. It is a 40 minute walk to school from where I live, and that turned into 50 minutes to an hour on the worst days. It all started when I did my laundry. Of course, "SORRY NAIROBI, I DECIDED TO DO MY LAUNDRY!" The drops began before I even finished. I bailed before I got my pants in the bucket, deciding to wear the dirty buggers for as long as I had to until I had more time to wash. Mama and I got back into our little apartment, and it poured. It poured, you guys. You don't even know what I mean when I say it poured. Well, maybe you do, Craig and Lois, but my God. I kept turning to my little brother asking him if he thought my laundry was done, and he would laugh and laugh. It rained for three days. "Kev, will you go see if my laundry is dry?", everyday after school which was met with more laughter.
Meanwhile, I was wearing the same clothes, no underwear, trudging through mud everyday to and from school. Wait, let me explain the trudging a little better. There is no pavement the entire three and a half kilometers from Jamhuri until about two blocks before The University of Nazarene. Emmy and I, my neighbor and walking partner, try to stick together and hold a conversation, but you have to be so careful about where you step that it became impossible not only to talk to each other, but to have any concept whatsoever of your surroundings. For the first week, I had no idea where anything was, including my home which got pretty scary one night, because I was trying to keep from falling in a hole. We've got cement holes which go into drainage pipes, sidewalk holes which are just mistakes, and perfectly dug holes in the grass and mud which are dug for God knows what, which is what I fell in one time. I kept myself clean, only twisting an ankle, but others have not been so lucky.
When it's raining, however, the holes aren't your biggest enemy. It's the mud. Mud, mud, mud, mud. I used to like the stuff, what had it ever done to me? This is not of the same species that we're used to, I tell you. It has a mind. It grabs on to you, if you're not paying attention, it'll get a good hold and keep you there while your forward momentum keeps going, whoops! Emmy and I fight through it, slowly, slowly. It clings to your shoe and splashes on your legs. By the time you get through one tough spot, your feet are three times as heavy and you're carrying an extra load wondering to yourself, where does it want to go, this intelligent substance... what does it know? I tried to avoid it once by taking the grass route. Yeah, that was smart. I found myself ankle deep in a swamp and no way out but to keep on going. Shoes and socks were a good idea on the wet day until that happened and I spent seven hours at school with cold wet feet. I walk through it, feeling a "This is bullshit" creeping to my lips, but I fight it, ladies and gentlemen. It's so close, it's almost there, but I breathe. I look at Emmy and smile, and know, "I will get through this, I will get through this". And forty five minutes later I do. No big deal, just forty five frickin minutes.
But, like I said, it's been dry now and I am floating on the broken clouds. Yesterday was the first time we saw the sun, and we ran to it. We ate lunch in it. And I rushed home and washed my jeans and my pants in it praying, praying it would hold. Today, I threw on a skirt and sandals even though it was cloudy and cold, because I was thinking positively. The clouds broke again, and when I got home, my pants were dry and folded neatly on my bed, thanks mama.
So this is what I do here. Go to school, study, watch a movie here and there (watched a great Baliwood one in the theater on Saturday), email, eat, hang with friends at the bar, and I'm thinking of joining a gym. Yes, I said gym, even I'm a little shocked by it. See, even though my walk's a pain in the everywhere, the filling starches my mama feeds me do not sit well with no job or regular exercise to keep the heart rate up. There's this little place across the uneven, rocky, muddy way from the front gate of my little building. It's got a doorway with a cloth hanging and I hear music and women doing aerobics inside. Emmy joined and said they were so surprised a woman went into the weight-training portion that she suddenly got her own personal trainer. There isn't much in there, but when I'm dying to go for a walk, and the sun has set, and it's muddy, and it's unsafe, it'd be nice to check and see if the treadmill is working. Plus, I've never done aerobics. I thought it would be a nice way to meet some of the neighbors as well. We'll see. I also thought I might get braids, but scratched the idea when the one girl who got them can't even move them they're so stiff.
So that's where I'm at. Oh, I did miss a great opportunity to cut the ear off a goat head and eat it when I had to turn down an invitation to a small village because I was having a glutentastic glutennightmare. You may not all know, but I have Celiac Disease and am still learning what I can't eat. Vegetable oil I learned is a real killer, and now I'm suspecting emulsifiers that are in chocolate. If anyone has any info on that please let me know. I can't stay online long enough to research it myself. Emulsifiers, flavourings, soya lecithin.. bad? Help! Does Hershey's have them, and if not send it, dammit, send it NOW! Cadbury is killing me and I'm a choco fiend! Either it kills me, or I'm going to kill someone else from withdrawals!!!
Done with the tangent. Love you all. Eat well, stay safe. Be there on my return. Kwa heri.
Your rafiki, dada, and daughter,
Emily
Sunday, September 9, 2007
With Family, In Nairobi
Jambo all,
I believe I misled you all when I told you I was going to be staying at a resort in a nature reserve. After a four hour ride down a bumpy, dusty, makeshift road (while they fix the main one) which was twice as long as it was supposed to take, we arrived at Lake Nakuru Game Reserve. We stayed at the camp compound, and it was beautiful. The compound consisted of many circular buildings including a classroom, kitchen, dining area and many dorms and toilets/showers all surrounded by a big circular fence to keep the animals out. We had about 10 people to a room where we bunked and shared one of three toilet facilities with hot bucket showers. Because hot water was limited, several of us would share a bucket. In this way, we really did become one big family. We spent the mornings in a circle of chairs having orientation while the equatorial sun burnt through layers and layers of 50SPF and higher sunscreen. Everyone of us is burnt, it's amazing.
The orientation was fun actually, especially because no fence can keep out a baboon. So, they ran all around us. Big ones, little ones, angry ones having loud fights near us, and hungry ones digging through our garbage. On more than one occasion, Francis, our cook, would run out of the kitchen throwing things at a very big guy who would not give up.
In the early evenings, we were taken on game drives. We saw buffalo, thousands of flamingos, eland, water buck, zebras, white rhinos and one black rhino. We saw many impala and gazelle. Warthogs were one of my favorites and we even saw one leopard right next to our truck. The views were amazing of course as we are in the Rift Valley.
On Saturday morning we left early for Nairobi where we were to meet our families. My palms sweat even now as I remember the feeling of arrival. We sat outside of our school as we waited for our parents to arrive. I felt a little like an orphan who was close to her fellow orphans as we each one at a time were snatched up and waved goodbye. Students left in little white cars, pickups, cars of aqua green, and one black Mercedes Benz. I was picked up by my mother and brother and we had to wait for a cab to come take us home.
My brother is Kevin and he is really beautiful. Seriously, a face like an angel and very happy to meet me. My mother is Esther. She wouldn't look at me and spent our time waiting complaining to Simon (a coordinator) about something in Swahili. So, Kevin and I got acquainted. Once in our cab, I realized that there would be no conversation if I didn't talk, so I did the best I could asking questions. My mom told me that they wanted a boy. I said, "Oh, well, maybe next time". We got to the tiny, little apartment, and my father, John, was watching TV. The TV stayed on as I sat on the couch with them in silence. After some time, however, I lost my nervousness, as they kept saying it was my home, and Esther and I finally got to know one another. She is actually quite sweet, but many times, she just looks pissed. I broke the ice with Kevin by pulling out the paper, and teaching him Sudoku from the puzzles page (he loves math and numbers but never learned this). It is easy to make my little brother laugh, and once we were lying on the floor making faces at each other and goofing around, I could see that my mother was happy with me.
I am one of the only ones at a home without house help, so I will be making my own breaky (no prob), and doing my own laundry (little prob). Lunch and dinner are provided, but it's the same meal as mom told me "Why spend so much time cooking? I cook once, then we microwave". She had had one other student who was gluten intolerant so she understands. That student's name was also Emily, she was also the oldest in the group, and she also had a boyfriend named Mike. However, she was a problem for them because Mike broke up with her while she was here and she cried all the time. So...that's where we differ. Right? Mike?
Today is Sunday and we went to church down the street. It was quite fun in the beginning, the music is fantastic. I couldn't help but clap and swing and sing the Swahili on the screen. But it got difficult once that ended after fifteen minutes. The service is two hours long. That's a lot of God. Most of it was about HIV/AIDS stigma and how to deal with it. Strange to have in church, but the pastor found no shortage of passages related to that issue. And he had numerous ways to alert the end of his sermon."Finally...", ten minutes later, "Lastly....", ten minutes later, "In my conclusion.....", five minutes later, "Amen". Thankfully, Esther was up and out, but almost too fast cause I nearly lost her. This afternoon, she left me to chat with neighbors, so I finally got here and asked if I could email and here I am.
I've seen one other student's home down the street as Esther was strict on me cybercafeing it with someone else, and I've talked with her and one other now. They both have been out escorted around so they are familiar with the area. My father stays in the bedroom all day and watches TV, and my mother stays in the living room all day watching TV. Kevin runs out every once in a while, and mom does only when it's visit the neighbors time. They are very kind, but I cannot wait for tomorrow, when I begin school and start doing my own thing. I should also tell you that my family has been hosting since 2002. They've had over 10 host children, so they are probably just very used to it all. So, tomorrow we all meet at school again (I have a forty min. walk), and we go into central Nairobi to buy cell phones. By Wednesday, we begin our normal classes. Joy.
I have also learned about my internship. I am located at the bottom of Mt.Kenya in the small town of Embu. I am working for NEMA, National Environmental Management Agency. I will be trained on proper work and farming methods, then visiting small businesses in Embu and making sure they are up to code. It's not exactly what I asked for, but they showed me what I wrote on my app, and and I had forgotten how environmental I was in my theme. I am truly very excited about it. It is closer to what I am truly passionate about. And, Mom, they tried to get me involved with The Green Belt Movement, but it is located in central Kenya right now. Too dangerous according to the US government, so I can't even visit it. However, Esther laughed when I told her this. She said she could take me no problem, so, we'll see.
Overall there have been no major problems. No one has fallen ill, and it seems we are all very comfortable and welcome here. I have to stick with my earlier exclamation, I love this place! And the weather is perfect right now. About 70, cloudy with occasional thunder, but no rain yet. I'm down the dusty, rocky, road from this Internet place, so I can probably email often. Especially as it seems my family isn't one for "family time". But I'll remind you all again: send no forwards please and no photos. I appreciate the pic of Mike, Melinda, but it will take too long for me to open my inbox if you keep that up. Besides, I have many, many photos of him with me. Love again to you all. Mom, or someone, please keep these somewhere, as I don't trust that I can. I will give out my address here soon if anyone wants to send anything. I already know I need pencil tip erasers as my brother has already stolen mine. He's never seen them before, I'd like to get a whole bag of multi-color ones.
Asante, asante sana,
Emily Sara
I believe I misled you all when I told you I was going to be staying at a resort in a nature reserve. After a four hour ride down a bumpy, dusty, makeshift road (while they fix the main one) which was twice as long as it was supposed to take, we arrived at Lake Nakuru Game Reserve. We stayed at the camp compound, and it was beautiful. The compound consisted of many circular buildings including a classroom, kitchen, dining area and many dorms and toilets/showers all surrounded by a big circular fence to keep the animals out. We had about 10 people to a room where we bunked and shared one of three toilet facilities with hot bucket showers. Because hot water was limited, several of us would share a bucket. In this way, we really did become one big family. We spent the mornings in a circle of chairs having orientation while the equatorial sun burnt through layers and layers of 50SPF and higher sunscreen. Everyone of us is burnt, it's amazing.
The orientation was fun actually, especially because no fence can keep out a baboon. So, they ran all around us. Big ones, little ones, angry ones having loud fights near us, and hungry ones digging through our garbage. On more than one occasion, Francis, our cook, would run out of the kitchen throwing things at a very big guy who would not give up.
In the early evenings, we were taken on game drives. We saw buffalo, thousands of flamingos, eland, water buck, zebras, white rhinos and one black rhino. We saw many impala and gazelle. Warthogs were one of my favorites and we even saw one leopard right next to our truck. The views were amazing of course as we are in the Rift Valley.
On Saturday morning we left early for Nairobi where we were to meet our families. My palms sweat even now as I remember the feeling of arrival. We sat outside of our school as we waited for our parents to arrive. I felt a little like an orphan who was close to her fellow orphans as we each one at a time were snatched up and waved goodbye. Students left in little white cars, pickups, cars of aqua green, and one black Mercedes Benz. I was picked up by my mother and brother and we had to wait for a cab to come take us home.
My brother is Kevin and he is really beautiful. Seriously, a face like an angel and very happy to meet me. My mother is Esther. She wouldn't look at me and spent our time waiting complaining to Simon (a coordinator) about something in Swahili. So, Kevin and I got acquainted. Once in our cab, I realized that there would be no conversation if I didn't talk, so I did the best I could asking questions. My mom told me that they wanted a boy. I said, "Oh, well, maybe next time". We got to the tiny, little apartment, and my father, John, was watching TV. The TV stayed on as I sat on the couch with them in silence. After some time, however, I lost my nervousness, as they kept saying it was my home, and Esther and I finally got to know one another. She is actually quite sweet, but many times, she just looks pissed. I broke the ice with Kevin by pulling out the paper, and teaching him Sudoku from the puzzles page (he loves math and numbers but never learned this). It is easy to make my little brother laugh, and once we were lying on the floor making faces at each other and goofing around, I could see that my mother was happy with me.
I am one of the only ones at a home without house help, so I will be making my own breaky (no prob), and doing my own laundry (little prob). Lunch and dinner are provided, but it's the same meal as mom told me "Why spend so much time cooking? I cook once, then we microwave". She had had one other student who was gluten intolerant so she understands. That student's name was also Emily, she was also the oldest in the group, and she also had a boyfriend named Mike. However, she was a problem for them because Mike broke up with her while she was here and she cried all the time. So...that's where we differ. Right? Mike?
Today is Sunday and we went to church down the street. It was quite fun in the beginning, the music is fantastic. I couldn't help but clap and swing and sing the Swahili on the screen. But it got difficult once that ended after fifteen minutes. The service is two hours long. That's a lot of God. Most of it was about HIV/AIDS stigma and how to deal with it. Strange to have in church, but the pastor found no shortage of passages related to that issue. And he had numerous ways to alert the end of his sermon."Finally...", ten minutes later, "Lastly....", ten minutes later, "In my conclusion.....", five minutes later, "Amen". Thankfully, Esther was up and out, but almost too fast cause I nearly lost her. This afternoon, she left me to chat with neighbors, so I finally got here and asked if I could email and here I am.
I've seen one other student's home down the street as Esther was strict on me cybercafeing it with someone else, and I've talked with her and one other now. They both have been out escorted around so they are familiar with the area. My father stays in the bedroom all day and watches TV, and my mother stays in the living room all day watching TV. Kevin runs out every once in a while, and mom does only when it's visit the neighbors time. They are very kind, but I cannot wait for tomorrow, when I begin school and start doing my own thing. I should also tell you that my family has been hosting since 2002. They've had over 10 host children, so they are probably just very used to it all. So, tomorrow we all meet at school again (I have a forty min. walk), and we go into central Nairobi to buy cell phones. By Wednesday, we begin our normal classes. Joy.
I have also learned about my internship. I am located at the bottom of Mt.Kenya in the small town of Embu. I am working for NEMA, National Environmental Management Agency. I will be trained on proper work and farming methods, then visiting small businesses in Embu and making sure they are up to code. It's not exactly what I asked for, but they showed me what I wrote on my app, and and I had forgotten how environmental I was in my theme. I am truly very excited about it. It is closer to what I am truly passionate about. And, Mom, they tried to get me involved with The Green Belt Movement, but it is located in central Kenya right now. Too dangerous according to the US government, so I can't even visit it. However, Esther laughed when I told her this. She said she could take me no problem, so, we'll see.
Overall there have been no major problems. No one has fallen ill, and it seems we are all very comfortable and welcome here. I have to stick with my earlier exclamation, I love this place! And the weather is perfect right now. About 70, cloudy with occasional thunder, but no rain yet. I'm down the dusty, rocky, road from this Internet place, so I can probably email often. Especially as it seems my family isn't one for "family time". But I'll remind you all again: send no forwards please and no photos. I appreciate the pic of Mike, Melinda, but it will take too long for me to open my inbox if you keep that up. Besides, I have many, many photos of him with me. Love again to you all. Mom, or someone, please keep these somewhere, as I don't trust that I can. I will give out my address here soon if anyone wants to send anything. I already know I need pencil tip erasers as my brother has already stolen mine. He's never seen them before, I'd like to get a whole bag of multi-color ones.
Asante, asante sana,
Emily Sara
Tuesday, September 4, 2007
I'm Here And Safe
Greetings from Kenya! I am finally in Africa and I have bouts of absolute excitement and I just start laughing out loud. Of course that's between all the waiting and walking around we're all doing as a group of 37. Right now we are being forced to write home and tell our loved ones that we are okay and loving life before we're allowed to have lunch.
We spent our first night in a conservation camp, pretty primitive, and were greeted with dozens of baboons running all around us in the morning. Today is about getting the right visas, exchanging money, buying local cell phones and picking phone plans (a requirement for this program) and slowly trying to learn each others' names and interests as we walk around the crowded streets of Nairobi like one big white blob. Despite not having a lick of water and only a small breakfast hours ago, I am really enjoying myself. These students are great. I seriously think I love each and every one of them already. And with that thought I should get going for now because there are three of them now sitting beside me waiting to write their families as all 37 of us invaded a small internet shop four stories up from the bustling, fumy street below. They will feed us in a bit, and after we're all done with our errands we're being brought to the resort in a nature reserve where we will learn everything about each other for the next three days. On Saturday I meet my new African family.
I love this place. I know I'll complain later, many many times. But I am absolutely in love with this place!
Love to you all. Thanks for listening. Asante.
Emily Sara
We spent our first night in a conservation camp, pretty primitive, and were greeted with dozens of baboons running all around us in the morning. Today is about getting the right visas, exchanging money, buying local cell phones and picking phone plans (a requirement for this program) and slowly trying to learn each others' names and interests as we walk around the crowded streets of Nairobi like one big white blob. Despite not having a lick of water and only a small breakfast hours ago, I am really enjoying myself. These students are great. I seriously think I love each and every one of them already. And with that thought I should get going for now because there are three of them now sitting beside me waiting to write their families as all 37 of us invaded a small internet shop four stories up from the bustling, fumy street below. They will feed us in a bit, and after we're all done with our errands we're being brought to the resort in a nature reserve where we will learn everything about each other for the next three days. On Saturday I meet my new African family.
I love this place. I know I'll complain later, many many times. But I am absolutely in love with this place!
Love to you all. Thanks for listening. Asante.
Emily Sara
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