Kwaheri Kenya!

"Kwaheri Kenya!"  (Goodbye Kenya!)  

I spent 9 weeks living in Kakamega.  63 days full of challenges, surprises, and learning. And now I've been home for just a week, already back to my American way of life.  Going from drinking chai, walking everywhere, and bucket showers, to drinking tap water, driving everywhere, and long, hot "normal" showers.

Although I've quickly adapted back to my old habits and lifestyle, a few things from Kenya will stay with me for the long run.  The relationships I developed, with my host family especially.  The memories of everyday life (...and of adventurous excursions).     A more mature perspective on development work.  A broader perspective on               cultural practices.  A greater appreciation for living as a minority.  And a better insight to how many more similarities than differences we share with our friends in Kakamega.

I wanted to take this last blog post to share a few final photos (along with a couple stories) to anyone still interested.  

First of all, here's the cool gorge in Naivasha I had mentioned earlier.  The one featured in Tomb Raider 2.  There used to be a river running through it, but has since become just a trickling stream.

Another look at my house.  This was the hallway, with my room on the left and the kitchen, storage room, and "shower" room on the right.  The containers lined up on the side were used to store water.  There was one running tap, so once or twice a week they would be refilled.  Most of the pictured containers were used as extra storage in case there was a drought or some other issue with the tap.  The tap basically served as a water source (rather than having to fetch water from a river or gather rain water), but was never used like a shower or sink.  The bucket sitting on top of the containers is what I would use to take my bucket showers.  And I would stand just outside the blue door on a ledge outside to brush my teeth.

Here's a view of the pit latrine that all the houses in my compound shared.  A compound is just a name for a common piece of land with several buildings.  The compound at work consisted of a church, a kitchen, offices, the associated tailoring school, and the pastor's home.  The compound at home consisted of 3 distinct buildings (but 5 families), non of whom were related.  However, it is common for extended family members to live together and fill a compound. My family didn't interact much with the neighbors in our compound, only while selling milk or crossing paths outside.  

The door on the left is for the pit latrine, and the door on the right is for the shower room (a room with a small drainage hole in the back).  Luckily I didn't have to make the trek outside to shower; we had our own shower room right inside our house.  But the one-minute walk to the pit latrine I was not allowed to make on my own at night, even with a gated compound (...with a very simple-to-open latch) and a watch dog (...a very friendly watch dog).  So maybe the night-time accompaniment to the latrine was appropriate.

This is the kitchen.  All dishes would be cooked on the charcoal-fueled "jiko" under the chimney.  There's a lantern on the table-top because the electricity was out at the time (I guess my camera has a powerful flash).  The electricity would go out most nights around or just before dinner time, so cooking in the dark became a common activity.  Momma Mary would sit on the low bench in front of the chimney place, while I would bring in a stool for myself and do the chopping, mixing, and cutting on the closer corner of the table.  It was a bit crammed, but it always worked.

This is the part of the kitchen hidden by the doorway in the previous photo.  The hardened ceramic jug was what Momma Mary liked the call "the African refrigerator."  It only held water (that had been previously boiled for purification), but did a surprisingly good job of keeping the water cooler than room temperature.  Which, especially in that kitchen, could get pretty hot!  The two other containers were also purified water, and we used that water to wash and cook the food.  The large wooden stick is used for cooking large quantities of ugali (a thick, stiff corn flour/water mixture).  We always used a smaller one at home, since we were just cooking for three and a half.  I have a ugali stick out in my room at home as one of the gifts my host mom left me. :) 

My host family!!  They were so wonderful.  The left is Momma Mary, right is my host dad (Stomas, but I never called him by name because it was hard for me to pronounce), and center is Zungu, their 2-year-old granddaughter.

 I thought this photo was a better representation of Zungu's adorably cheeky personality.  Our interactions (although maybe limited by the language barrier) consisted of simple Swahili commands and a lot of expressive faces.  It was just about the saddest thing, though, when I had to say goodbye.  She did not like it at all when her playmate got in that car, closed the door, and left her there.

My extended family.  These were many of the relatives who stayed with us during the preparations for the funeral.  The woman furthest to your right with the little girl on her lap is my host sister Joanna.  She took care of me when my host mom was off preparing for the funeral.

A picture of the church at Mahiakalo Child Development Center.  The offices were in a separate building, but the church was the focal point of the compound.  For one last sum-up of the "internship" part of my summer:  I spent the first two weeks doing a needs-/opportunity-assessment of the center.  From there my work plan was my independent responsibility, more so than I had anticipated.  I decided to set up a simple Excel spreadsheet designed for making the tracking of child updates much easier.  I spent one day per week giving lessons to the post-secondary school children aged 19 to 21.  My two favorite topics were on technology (check out this TED talk I showed them on the social media revolution) and peer mentoring.  The peer mentoring lesson developed into a peer mentoring program, with 14 different mentors (age 19-21) responsible for 8 kids (age 12-14) each.  I wrote and distributed a questionnaire about the children's general interest in the program, and tweaked the program (food choices, game time, mentoring, library) based on the results.  Lastly I renumbered the library books to help organize them by subject.  All small things, but I hope my work helped make a small, positive, sustainable  change.  More importantly, I hope I portrayed a positive image for what I was representing (FSD, Duke, the Midwest) and left my coworkers and the children with fond memories.

Here's me on a bodaboda with my personal driver, Steve.  He would often take me from Mahiakalo CDC back home after a long day of work.  After he learned I liked to run in the mornings, he commented that he'd like to start running too, and suggested we go after work.  So for the last two weeks, I ran with my bodaboda driver on a 50-ft stretch of field in a schoolyard.  I would run in my work clothes (long skirts and modest shirts) and my bare feet.  By this time of evening, school was out of session, so we were only accompanied by the cheers and laughter of the neighborhood children.  One day when we drove up (on the bicycle) for practice, 20 children were chanting "Welcome, welcome, welcome, visitor!" They started running along with us when we began practice.  I'm sure it was quite a sight.

At long last, I arrived back home, safe and sound.  And I was greeted by my anxious parents, my brother and a few cousins, and my very best friends!  What a warm welcome after 40+ hours of travel, getting totally lost in Amsterdam, and almost missing my connecting flight to Chicago.  It's good to be home.





And that's that!  My trip to Kenya.  Not as a visitor or a foreigner, but as an intern and a partner.  As a sister and a daughter.  Here's to the most challenging, rousing, inspiring experience.  Kwaheri Kenya!  You will not be forgotten.

A Rural Kenyan Funeral

My 9 week stay in Kakamega has ever so quickly come to an end.  I’m in the Nairobi airport now waiting for the long flights ahead to Amsterdam then Chicago.  Unfortunately, the past 12 days or so I’ve I found myself so busy at work and wanting to spend as much time as possible with my host family.  So it’s been a bit of a blog drought from this end.  But don’t worry!  I won’t leave my blog stranded without a few more stories, pictures, and a proper ending.  So starting with a post about my last weekend in Kakamega, at a rural Kenyan funeral:

It was my host sister’s husband.  He was 48 years old when he passed on July 2^nd.  He was either an alcohol abuser or a diabetic (or maybe a combination); I got contradicting explanations from family members.  Either way, his unfortunate passing left a family of a widow and three teenage daughters.  The mother and one of the daughters spent the following week and a half living with my host family.  The dynamics of home life changed for the duration with extra help around the house and a lot of visitors stopping by with well wishes and prayers for the family.

On Thursday afternoon, the body of the man was transported from a holding room in the hospital to the place of the burial: his hometown, Isulu (one of the many rural sub-communities of Kakamega).  In big cities the deceased of wealthy families are buried in cemeteries, but in rural or poor communities they are buried in their hometown.  Momma Mary stayed in Isulu for the following several days to help prepare for the burial of her son-in-law while meanwhile I stayed back in Lurambi (the village I live in) with my big-city host sister Joanna. 

Joanna and I joined the rest of the family on Saturday after a 40 minute drive through Kakamega.  (Although it’s not very developed, Kakamega is a big town!)  When we arrived around noon, there were already 200 people sitting in plastic chairs-borrowed from the church- or on the ground, all positioned strategically out of the hot African sun.  I was shocked at the high turnout, considering we were in a genuine rural community; mud and stick homes were few and far between, each separated by large fields of crops.  Joanna and I brought two more chairs with us and somehow squeezed into the limited space of shade.  Once we were sitting, I got a glimpse of a very basic program outline:  The funeral was set to begin at 9 AM, but in typical Kenyan fashion it started about two hours late.  Most of the program outlined who was to be speaking at the funeral, everyone from the mother-in-law and daughters to the neighbors and the landlord.  I felt beads of sweat forming on my neck as I listened to speaker after speaker rant in Swahili.  The microphone system screeched and malfunctioned with every transfer of hands.  Most speakers who came to share their well wishes and stories were well composed, but the occasional drunkard made quite a scene.

When the last speaker (and by speaker, I mean any member from the crowd who wanted to say a few words) finished, the priest lead mass for the Catholic family.  At this point Joanna and I went back to a neighbor’s house to get some lunch. Momma Mary was cooking in a two-room, non-furnished mud and stick house with a few other neighborhood women.  There was what had to be the biggest pot of ugali I had ever seen!  Ugali, pilau (spiced rice) with beef, and cabbage were almost ready to serve the growing crowd of about 300.  The small house was so hot from all the cooking; smoke and steam filled the room and made the inside a good 10 degrees hotter than the already smoldering outside air.  The vats of food were brought outside while I was instructed to sit inside, so I’m not very sure how all of the guests were fed (I didn’t see a single plate or utensil other than what they handed me to use).  After I had finished eating, the mass was just finishing and it was time for the burial.  The guests moved from the site of the speeches to where the body would be buried.  A tiny mud house had been built as a temporary home for my widowed host sister just 200 yards away from the gathering.  They had built the house only three days before and the mud was still wet.  It’s the belief that the immediate family should live next to the grave of the deceased, and this simple house served as a temporary home before a proper, permanent house could be built.

 Finally after a very long hot day in the sun, it was time for the burial.  The priest blessed the coffin and body with holy water before it was lowered into a deep hole.  (It’s customary to bury, not cremate, the dead.)  While two neighborhood boys worked to fill in the hole with dirt, a choir of 20 wearing all white sang joyous songs, celebrating a life and praising God.  The only sad song they sang through the entirety of the funeral was when the body had been completely buried and each family member placed a small flower on the grave.  Once the sad song was finished, the family and priest filed into the temporary mud house to give blessings.  When they came out of the house, they were singing, dancing, and clapping their hands to the music of the choir.  About 100 of the guests followed the choir and family as they trotted up and down the dirt path through the rural neighborhood.  The song they were dancing to was a final, joyous goodbye to the deceased husband.

Finally, around 6 in the evening, it was time to go back home to Lurambi.  My widowed host sister stayed in Isulu wile I went home with some other relatives.  After another day with extended family, everyone said their goodbyes and went back to their hometowns around Kenya.  The house was strangely quiet when it was once again just me, my host parents, and the 2 year old.  After that it was just 5 short days left for me in Kenya, which I will post about a little bit later!

Attack of the Ants

As promised, a short narration of my encounter with some rather unfriendly ants in Naivasha:

I had just returned to our campsite after a long day of hiking.  Time for a relaxing yoga session in my short shorts and bare feet.  We had just started the “clear your mind, focus on breathing” part by lying flat in the grass.  Right as I was getting comfortable, I felt a sharp pinch on my lower left calf.  Ouch!  I sat up and smacked my leg, receiving a few glares from the others.  Okay, Lainey, you can be quiet, you can relax, there are only a few (rather large) ants around.  I squirmed as I felt a few more ants crawling over my feet, but was salvaged when another intern discovered a few ants of his own and jumped up to whack them off.  Our yoga circle migrated about 20 feet, which was enough to prevent any other disturbances by the ants.  Well, for now, at least.

The next afternoon, after waking from a nap, I left my tent to go to the central lodge for a meeting and dinner.  As I closed up the tent, I felt another piercing bite or two on my feet.  This time, I got a better look: the ant was 5x the size of small ants that I’m used to, reddish-brown in color, and had two big, nasty pincers protruding from its head.  There were maybe twenty ants in the grass nearby my tent, but at this point they were no more than a minor disturbance, so I brushed off my feet, and went to the meeting without bringing anything with me.

After a short two hours, I realized I needed my wallet for dinner.  And I could really use my jacket, it was getting fairly cold.  So between the meeting and dinner, as dusk was falling, I walked back to our campsite by myself.  I approached my tent, but stopped just short of the zipper… there were about 70 ants swarming the front side of the tarp.  Well.  I didn’t come back for nothing.  So I’m going for it.  That’s a good idea, right?  Wrong.  As soon as I took another step in and reached for the zipper, it became clear that I had entered enemy territory.  Ants were swarming my feet and beginning to climb my legs.  (I had overlooked, in the dim lighting, the fact that there were A LOT more ants in the grass around the tent.)  Within seconds I felt maybe fifteen bites on my feet, which was all it took to change my mind.  I jumped back shrieking and kicked off my sandals, which instantly turned from bright blue to that reddish-brown color.  Ant-covered flip flops in hand, I ran to the nearby dirt path, slapping myself and yelping the whole way there.  After throwing my flip flops on the ground repeatedly to rid the ants, and enduring just a few more bites, I plucked the remaining stubborn ants out of the rubber of my shoes.  (Those pincers hold strong!)  Just as I began returning down the path towards the main lodge, I felt two more sharp bites- one on my side and one on my head.  Those darn pests had me pretty worked up by this point, so naturally I screamed and ran like a fool to the bathroom.  I had to swat at and pluck out the remaining ants until I was finally satisfied that my body was ant-free. 

Back at the dinner table, I warned my roommate that the ants had completely invaded the area around (but hopefully not inside) our tent.  Strangely enough, they had not touched the tents on either side of our own.  (We didn’t even have any food or drink inside our tent to particularly attract the ants.)  I just hoped that they would be gone by the time we were done eating.  Wrong again.  A few other interns headed back to the camp site before I had finished eating, and came back with full reports: The ants had invaded.  Or rather the demon ants.  Apparently it was a site to see: ants had covered 3/4^th of the tents, any attempt to enter the war zone was met with expletives and frantic hopping, and a few interns took refuge on the tree stumps in the center of our site.  There’s no WAY I’m going back there.  Those ants won’t fool me twice.  Lucky for us, the campgrounds manager was more than accommodating.  After pouring kerosene around our site, which I believe deters, but doesn’t kill, the ants, he set up a large room upstairs in the main lodge with mattresses and blankets.  So we had a surprisingly peaceful slumber party without a single ant bite throughout the night.

When morning rolled around, I was not looking forward to going back to my tent.  One way or another, I’d have to get all my belongings out of there; we were leaving that morning.  But as I approached my tent, I found the ants would not be a problem.  Just as quickly as they had come, the demon ants had completely vanished from the site.  Not a one to be found.  Whew.

When I got back home from Naivasha, I just had to find out what kind of ants these were.  The campgrounds manager referred to them as safari ants, but could that possibly be a euphemism for the insects featured on Discovery Channel, siafu ants, native to East Africa?  I cannot be sure, as there are around 500 species of ants in East Africa, but the Wikipedia definition of Dorylus (aka siafu ants or safari ants) sounds about right.  “Their bite is severely painful, each soldier leaving two puncture wounds when removed. Removal is difficult, however, as their jaws are extremely strong, and one can pull a soldier ant in two without it releasing its hold.”   So THAT’S why they hurt!  Also: “In East Africa they are used as natural, emergency sutures. Various East African indigenous tribal peoples will use the soldiers to stitch the wound by getting the ants to bite on both sides of the gash, then breaking off the body. This seal can hold for days at a time.” How’s that for indigenous medicine?

Needless to say, I was not exactly looking forward to the camping portion of our travels to Masaai Mara, tourist central of Kenya.  Our housing was described as tents with beddings and a toilet/shower in each tent.  Confusing!  But that’s exactly what they were: large tents (with beds inside) attached to a permanent bathroom with plumbing.  Luckily these tents protected us from most insects, so siafu ants were not a problem. 

Masaai Mara was a great place for safari.  The highlights were the wildebeest migration, watching the sunrise, and seeing two cheetahs and some adorable lion cubs.  But it was a lot of travel time (about 32 hours total) for such a short time there (less than two full days, with most of the waking hours spent in a safari vehicle.)  I’m glad I went, but I’m ready to be staying put for the next (and last!) two weeks in Kenya.

Midterm Retreat: Reflect, Relax, Explore

After 6 ½ weeks spent in Kenya, and with just under 3 weeks to go, the FSD midterm retreat was a much needed break.  I could reflect on my experiences so far, spend some time relaxing, and go for some crazy adventures. Here’s the breakdown:

Reflect:

Although I was able to sort out some thoughts in my head, when I attempted to convey them through my blog I found myself staring at a blank word document.  Sometimes I feel frustrated: Why is that bottle of glue the only comfort to that child?  How is it okay for teachers to beat their students? Does being a mzungu make it okay for a pikipiki driver to exploit my wealth, and does my giving in just reinforce a stereotype?  Other times I feel confident and valuable:  My work and progress might just contribute some sort of lasting impact to my workplace.  I’m getting used to this whole “new culture, new food, Kenyan English” thing.  My host family actually likes me!  But no matter what I’m feeling at the time, I’ve found a sense of humor, a bit of patience, and a big smile to go a long way.  Because it’s not about the situation I’m facing, but rather how I handle it.  How I can manage the challenges, rejoice in the triumphs, and allow my experience to be meaningful and rewarding.

Relax:

I spent a significantly longer time than usual in the sunshine, leaving myself with some funny tan lines.  For the first time in months, I enjoyed a long, soothing stretch- a dancer kind of stretch.  (And was reassured to find that the splits are still not a problem!)  I participated in a short-but-refreshing yoga session and took a nap on a bench of a picnic table.  Just hanging around the campgrounds and chatting was a great chance to unwind.  Steamy hot showers, watching The Lion King, and eating real Western-style pizza also topped the list. J

Explore:

But don’t be fooled by my short “relax” paragraph; my weekend in Naivasha was certainly an adventure.  Naivasha is a small town and is a top tourist attraction for safaris in its national park.  One day we endured a walking safari, where we practically herded the wildlife as we followed (and chased away) zebras, giraffes, impala, and buffalo.  We were hot in the tracks of some leopards, according to the fresh footprints in the mud.  The next day was a biking safari and a hike through a gorge.  Again, we were getting up close and personal with some incredible wildlife.  And the gorge was just about the coolest thing I’ve ever seen (or at least hiked through).  Imagine 40-ft high sheer cliffs of limestone surrounding you on all sides with a small, hot stream running through the center.  If you don’t have the imagination, just watch Tomb Raider II; parts of the movie where filmed in that same gorge.  We were also attacked by a swarm of crazy vicious demon ants, but I think that’s a story for another blog post…

That’s all for now, short and sweet.  Goodnight and Happy 4^th of July!

A slow work week and a trip to Nakuru

Last week marked my fourth week working at Mahiakalo CDC.  Unfortunately, I was not able to move forward with my work plan quite like I had planned.  I reviewed responses to a questionnaire I had written and prepared to go on school visits.  But when it was finally time to go visit the schools, a budgeting issue came up, causing me to spend the rest of the next two days only visiting schools within walking distance (there are three) and mending the communication issues regarding my budget.  Even though I progressed to some extent on my work plan, I felt like I was a full week behind.  But hey, this is Africa.  Sometimes things move slower than expected, and a lot of unanticipated obstacles come up.  I’m just glad patience is not a quality that comes in finite quantities.

So after a slow, somewhat frustrating week at work, it was nice fulfill the role of tourist for the weekend.  I traveled with most of the other interns to Nakuru, the 4^th largest city in Kenya.  Nakuru is known for its wildlife and its beautiful freshwater lake, Lake Nakuru, which is considered one of the top 10 most beautiful lakes in the world.  (There are a lot of lakes out there I haven’t seen, but I’ll vouch for the ranking.  Unfortunately the pictures I took don’t quite do it justice.)

Instead of reviewing the excursion in chronological sequence, I’ll highlight my favorite parts and some otherwise memorable moments:

- On a safari around Lake Nakuru in the National Park I saw tons of flamingos, several rhinos, and a few zebras and giraffes.  We were even lucky enough to pass by a lion lounging on the side of the road (lions rest during the day) and later two sleeping atop a stone formation almost resembling Pride Rock.

- We also had a chance to see the gorgeous Nakuru Crater, which is approximately 12 square kilometers.  It seemed a lot to me like a sheer cliff into a vast valley since the other side of the crater wall was too far to see.

- The matatu ride to Nakuru had music/white noise blasting through the stereo to the point of hurting my ears.  Any time we asked the driver to turn down the volume, he would comply for a few minutes before turning it up even louder.

- The matatu ride home from Nakuru was interrupted by my first encounter with the Kenyan police.  Upon seeing a bus load of mzungus, the police jumped on the chance of earning some extra money… One officer noticed that we weren’t wearing seat belts (come on, who wears seatbelts in a MATATU?), attempted to charge us 2,000 schillings each, and threatened to put us in jail if we didn’t pay.  Lucky for us, the other officer was very friendly and liked to chat.  While the first officer was threatening the front half of the bus, i was having a nice conversation with the other in the back seat.  Eventually one of the other interns asked the chatty officer why his friend was trying to charge us so much money, to which he responded with surprise and quickly convinced the first to let us go free of charge.  We all buckled up for the remainder and were relieved to not have to pay the money, which would have surely ended in the pocket of the police. That was a close one.

- Continuing with the matatu theme, the bus that was supposed to take us to the top of the Nakuru Crater faced a few complications. The drive along the steep, bumpy path was going just fine until out of nowhere smoke started pouring out of the transmission.  We all rushed out of the vehicle but were relieved to find that it was steam, not smoke.  After the driver convinced us the bus was fixed, we piled back in only to find the engine wouldn’t start.  It wasn’t until we started rolling backwards down the hill that we had enough and decided to hike the rest of the way up the crater.  The decision was surely for the better; the remaining walk was refreshing and took just under an hour to get to a beautiful view of the crater.

-The hotel we booked had given away our rooms just before we arrived.  So much for reservations?  Lucky for us a security guard from the hotel guided us through the streets in a search for a new place to stay.

- Our hotel ended up being cheap and luxurious… for only 200 /= per person (about $2), we shared double beds and were provided with a single towel, a bar of soap, two left flip flops for shower shoes, a sink in the room, and a communal bathroom with a FLUSH pit latrine and a shower with HOT RUNNING WATER. Mmmmm, it was wonderful. J

- Compare that hotel with the resort we briefly stopped by as a rest point during the safari.  As we got out of our safari vehicle, a doorman handed us steaming hot, mint-scented towels to wipe away the accumulated layer of dust that covered our bodies.  Just past the lobby an array of tea, coffee, and cookies led the way to a huge stone balcony that overlooked the park grounds.  I enjoyed a Pina Colada while looking out into the sunset and feeling totally over-the-top luxurious.  This was a hotel that belonged in Hawaii.  And for just 100x the rate of the other hotel, we could have stayed for the night.

- Nighttime in Nakuru is much livelier than in Kakamega; there were quite a few people out and about.  Lights lined the major streets, and while it’s not bright like cities at home, it’s bright enough to see around.  Our late night outing was to a disco called Dimples.  The dancing was fun!  This disco was a lot more western that the one in Kakamega, as about every other song was American.

- One evening we ate a family style dinner at a Chinese restaurant in town.  At first I thought the idea of Chinese food in Kenya was questionable, but it ended up being delicious- chicken without the bones and fat and flavors other than the usual tomato/onion/garlic combo was a nice treat. 

- We had our first taste of a tourist market, where we browsed through and bargained for animal figurines, decorated plates, and jewelry.  I think I’m getting better at this whole bargain-harshly-so-as-to-not-support-inflation thing; some of the shop owners even called me brutal (which is not an adjective typically used to describe my personality).

- We also had our first troublesome encounter with a group a street boys, who successfully pickpocketed one of the girls in the group (they got off with a small amount of cash, but both credit cards were recovered).  They smelled strongly of glue from the half empty bottles in their hands.  And as they asked for money, food, and water, I did my best to avert my eyes as I still feel completely uncomfortable and unsure of how to act around the street boys.  I was very grateful to get in the matatu and off the street when our driver pulled up.

By the end of our journey, we were arriving in Kakamega long after the sunset Sunday night.  Although it was a fun, touristy, eventful weekend, I was so glad to be home again relaxing with my host family.  I’ve come to feel so comfortable, happy, and safe at my homestay, and how could I not be with a family who cares about my whereabouts and refers to their new daughter as wonderful and brilliant? So it’s off to a short week with my wonderful and wise host family before a new excursion next weekend.  A short work week and a trip to Naivasha.

Morning Runs, Work Plan, Chicken Liver, and the Disco

The end of last week marked the one month point of my stay in Kenya, just under halfway through my trip.  And I can’t believe how quickly the time has been going!  Each week seems to move by faster; orientation week was slow, as was my first week with my host family and at my host organization.  But as I continually gain more responsibilities and independence, the days (and weeks) have started to fly by.  Last week at work I was able to set up a work plan for the remainder of my time at Mahiakalo.  It took all of two weeks to really get a feel for how the center works and what kinds of obstacles they face daily.  At the end of the previous week I passed my ideas by my coworkers and supervisor.  Since I’m the first intern to work at their organization, they weren’t particularly critical of any of my ideas, but gaging by their responses (“it’s good” vs. “yes, it is very good”), I was able to mold my ideas in a direction that would be most suitable to their wants and needs.  I think.  It’s been odd having so much independence in terms of my work plan; after 13 years of being told exactly what to study, read, and report, being on my own has been a little scary.  FSD does check over all the interns’ work plans to make sure we are contributing “sustainable development” (hence Foundation for Sustainable Development), so I know at least my ideas aren’t totally off track.  But at the same time I feel like absolutely anything I would have suggested to my supervisor she would have given me the OK. 

Anyways, for my actual work plan, my objectives are threefold.  (I’ll keep it brief for now and elaborate as I implement a given aspect).  First, I hope to improve office efficiency. Right now the only way to check for child updates is by going through every file and checking dates for home visits, school visits, photo updates, and the like.  I will be starting a simple excel program that can easily generate “update reports,” rather than manually checking every child folder (which took me a good part of two weeks).  At the end of last week we installed a brand-new computer (alas, a PC…) in MY office- I feel spoiled!  But this will make my work a lot easier.  Secondly, I am trying to identify reasons for child absences and departures from the program.  The two tie together, since most departures result from an accumulation of successive absences.  In just 2011, about eight children have been departed from the program, and if looking through the files, you will find a lot of gaps in the numbering (from completions or departures).  I started my work in this objective last week; I went through attendance records for 2010 and 2011 and generated a report showing which age group was absent the most and why (school, sick, or other).  I also wrote a questionnaire regarding absences and general interest in the program, and had it distributed it to all the kids aged 12 and above at the program last Saturday.  This week I’ll be going on school visits to distribute the questionnaire to as many of the absent children (my target audience) as possible.  Thirdly, I will be holding weekly seminars/discussions with the 19-21 age group about technology, peer mentoring, health, etc.  I hope that by the end of my time here, the kids will be able and ready to take more responsibility during the Saturday program by being youth mentors to the primary-aged kids.

That’s the general outline for the rest of my summer at work.  Home life is a whole separate topic entirely.  I’ll start with a story…

It was 6:45 in the morning; the sun was up but the air was still cool.  I had woken up early to go for a run, my first form of real exercise in almost two weeks.  Much to my surprise, Momma Mary was all for the idea of me going for a run when I suggested it the night before.  She even said it was okay if I wear my running shorts rather than pants.  So I walked out of my room in my running shorts, Duke T-shirt, and tennis shoes, feeling more American than ever.  Momma Mary was in the kitchen already working on the dishes from dinner the night before.  “Are you ready?” She asked me.  After agreeing, she said “Okay, I will take you to where you can run.” 

I couldn’t help but think I had finally gotten a chance at independence, being able to run along the main road as I liked.  But how wrong I was.  Momma Mary walked me just across the road and up a small hill to the gate of a primary school.  She instructed me to run around the “nice big field” and come back when I was finished.  Not only was the field quite small, but also maybe 70 kids were around the yard already cleaning the grounds with more arriving by the minute.  I started my laps (each lap took just under 2 minutes) while the eyes of all the kids followed me all the way around.  Every time I would pass the school building or the area where the kids where sweeping the grounds they would yell out to me “Hello! Habari! How are you!”  One brave 10-year-old came up to me and quickly shook my hand as I passed.  I felt so foreign.   On my third lap around the field, before I had gotten a good feel for the grounds, I fell into a pothole hidden by the rough and grassy terrain.  I was literally on my hands and knees with 100 pairs of eyes on me (by this point more kids have arrived), and of course, the kids thought my fall was just hilarious.  I guess when I step back and look the scene, it was pretty funny.  All I could do was dust myself off, laugh at myself, and keep going.  I finished my run after 15 very long minutes I went back to my house and got myself ready for work. 

The next few days I would take 5 laps around the school before going down the main road for the rest of the run.  Even though I still get a lot of attention from the inflow of workers walking to town to start their day, it’s a little better than causing such a scene at the school.  Maybe after a few weeks they (the workers AND the school children) will get used to me?

Even though running has not been the most peaceful time each morning, I’ve welcomed it as a nice break from a home life that seems to revolve around food.  I wake up in the morning, get myself ready, eat some breakfast.  When I get home from work, the first thing I’m to do is take tea.  Then after about an hour of relaxing, the evening activity is cooking dinner.  And then it’s bed time.  Last week was unusual in that we had a few “easy dinners,” which means there’s not much to do in the kitchen and I don’t get to help prepare the meals.  Actually, we had exactly three “easy dinners,” all in a row, and I quickly learned that these dinners are NOT my favorite.  The main dish, and I repeat, three nights in a row, was chicken liver.  I knew something was strange when my host mom declared that we’d be eating “meat” rather than the usual clarification of beef or chicken.  And something was definitely strange when my spoon slid easily through the twice-too-large-for-bite-size piece of “meat,” as the beef and chicken are typically very tough.  I needed to know what I was getting myself into, and just as I swallowed my first bite, I asked, “What type of meat is this?”  Chicken liver.  “Ohh, it’s good!” (I shouldn’t have said that.)  Either way, the first night we had it was rough.  I was a little grossed out, plus Momma Mary decided to serve me a heaping spoonful of this meat.  She has caught on to the fact that I usually pick around the fat and bones that make up half of most meat dishes, so this was my chance to eat a lot of meat.  I thought it would be best to get the food down as quickly as possible with large bites, but the liver just seemed to expand in my mouth.  But I will at least concede that chicken liver must be an acquired taste, because even by the third night it wasn’t so bad.  I learned that taking smaller bites and mixing it with the pasta or matoke (cooked bananas) makes it very tolerable.

Now that my blog post is sufficiently scattered and officially too long, I’ll end with a brief update of my weekend. Weekends up to this point have been very relaxed, and honestly, very long.  With the exception of a day trip to Kisumu one Sunday, most Saturdays and Sundays consist of a lot of sitting around.  Church services and meetings carry on for hours upon end; thank goodness at least the Saturday meetings are conducted in English.  This past weekend was a change in pace.  Friday all of the interns decided it would be fun to go out to the disco together.  Momma Mary didn’t want me traveling alone in the dark, so I met up with the group Friday around 6 pm and went to one of the other girl’s host family’s house for dinner.  This house was closer to town than my own and right next to two other homes, which made it easy for us to coordinate rides.  We went out to the disco shortly after nine, and the dancing was really fun!  A time or two I claimed to be married, which works like a charm if you want to get rid of a persistent local.  (I promise this isn’t as shady as it sounds.  We were all safe and looking out for each other.  Our program leader even brought us to this disco our first week here to show us where we could go if we wanted to go out, and he dropped us off there that night.)  At around midnight we were partied out and called a taxi to take us back to our homes.  Midnight is pretty late for Kenya- well, maybe it’s just late for me, there were still quite a few locals going strong!    

Speaking of being late, it’s just past 11 pm here, so I’m off to sleep.  Goodnight and until next time! 

Photo Update

Hey to all!  It's been a while since I've last posted, so I thought I'd take the time to share some photos with you.  

This is my very spacious and very comfortable bedroom! :) I was pleasantly surprised with how much room and storage space I was given.  And it's been great having some space of my very own.  The blue net that is knotted up over my bed is my mosquito net (or, rather, princess canopy).  And yes, I do tie away the net and make my bed every single morning. The wrap that's draped across my desk chair is what I use to cover up going to and from the "shower", which is just down the narrow hallway in the house.  The table that I use as my desk is about the same height as the seat of my chair, which doesn't make for an ideal working space, but I'm getting used to it.  On the far side of my window there is a small table where I keep a jug of clean water and a cup for brushing my teeth.  I have electricity (that is, if it hasn't been turned off due to rationing) and even my own outlet.

This is a picture of my house from the outside.  The blue door is the main door and leads into a small porch.  Just to the left of the porch is the living room/ dining room.  And the window on the left is the one in my room.  The roof above functions as both a roof and a ceiling- the individual rooms do not have separate ceilings.  I tried to get a better picture of the house, but the other houses in the compound are fairly close; right behind me is one of the other houses.  There are about 5 families in the compound, but I can't be sure because some separate houses share a wall (including my family's home).  It's typical for every family in the compound to be related, but in this compound we are just neighbors and don't really interact, other than sharing a pit latrine and maybe saying hello on the way into the house.

This photo was taken in Kisumu, the 3rd largest city in Kenya.  Kisumu sits right next to Lake Victoria, which is a gorgeous and huge freshwater lake that Kenya shares with Uganda and Tanzania.  Just don't touch the water- you may end up with schistosomiasis, a parasitic and chronic illness that eats away at your internal organs.  This is the boat the other interns and I road to go around the lake and see some hippos.

"Woodpecker" is the name of our favorite bungalow at the very western Golf Hotel.  We like to come here on Saturdays after our weekly seminars to relax, catch up on stories, and utilize the free internet service. 

This is a picture of my first matatu ride into Kisumu.  When we first boarded it was quite spacious and comfortable, but that changed quickly.  After 12 more people crammed into the vehicle we were finally "full enough" to begin our journey to Kisumu.

This is my office at Mahiakalo CDC.  I was surprised to get my own space at work, and although it's small, it's plenty of space for my purposes, and the desk-to-chair height ratio is just right.  My office also functions as a library for the 258 children who come in on Saturdays, but currently the center is working on getting funds to construct and furnish a new library just next door.  

Here is part of Mahiakalo from the outside.  The window to the left is to a conference room (where I was trained in first aid) and the window to the right is to the office of the social worker.  The other three offices/library are in the white building.  There's plenty of grassy space around and behind where I'm standing for the kids to play.  

I hope these pictures have given you a better idea of what I'm seeing every day!  :)

Establishing a routine has never been so exciting

This week has begun the start of some amount of normalcy.  I am following a routine, and while each day brings new challenges (or, should I say, opportunities), there is a structure behind the madness.  Here’s the basic breakdown:

I wake up every morning at 6:45, take a bucket shower and get myself ready, and go to the sitting room, where there is tea and bread already waiting for me.  I take the food by myself before Momma Mary or I call my bodaboda driver, Steve.  Steve works as a cook at Mahiakalo and on the side as a boda driver, so he takes me everywhere.  The ride to work is a quick 3 minutes straight down the road.  Definitely walking distance, but I’m still slowly building up the confidence my host mom has in my independence.  I walked out the front gate all by myself yesterday.   Maybe I’ll be walking to work next week. 

Once I get to work, there is no sort of routine.  We deal with issues as they arise, whether kids are sick and in the hospital or monthly monetary gifts from sponsors need to be sorted and spent.  We take tea any time between 10 and 1 and lunch between 1 and 5. (Yes, one time I had my lunch break at 5 pm and went straight home afterwards.)  We eat lunch when lunch is ready. A few things are consistent, though: gospel music blaring out of Mark’s office, 19 to 21 year-olds out of high school hanging around and helping out, rain in the late afternoon that requires us to stay until whenever it happens to clear up, the tiniest mouse I’ve ever seen always scurrying between and around the offices.  I think Mahiakalo CDC needs a cat.

I usually get home around 5:30, when my host mom, host dad and I take coffee.  The TV is on playing awful foreign soap operas with English dubbed over, and my host dad offers me Nation, the national Kenyan newspaper, to read.  After coffee I have some time to relax, and I’ll stay in the living room and chat with my host dad, read from my Kindle, or entertain the 2-year old.  Then I will help my host mom prepare dinner, which ALWAYS involves a few fresh tomatoes, an onion, and some garlic.  (I’m starting to get good at cutting vegetables and spices! As for making chapati or ugali, that will take some more practice…) We eat dinner around 8:30, just in time to catch Soy Tu Duena- a soap favorite of all the interns.  After dinner I have some time to myself, where I do my “work”: emails or blogging or facebook.  By 10 I start getting myself ready for bed, and all the lights in the house are out by 10:45, leaving plenty of time for sleep  The noises at night (and in the morning) don’t bother me anymore, so I sleep soundly.  And then starts another day.

Having some sort of template for the day, having reasonable expectations, has been quite a relief.  I feel like I’m settled in.  And while I’m still the mzungu who is so often viewed as an outsider, I’m feeling less and less like a guest and starting to become a coworker/family member.  I still have a lot to learn, and I’m still almost constantly pushed beyond my comfort zone, but it’s a process that’s making progress.

Here’s to a few things that have made this week unique:

I spent a good part of three days with the 19-21 year old kids getting certified in first aid.

I visited a public hospital (to check up on and pay the hospital bills for one of the children who had fallen sick) and was surprised to see beds lined up two feet apart from each other, two patients to a bed.  The girl we came to see was terribly sick with malaria, sharing a bed with a non-responsive young girl, and six visitors crowded close to the bed with nowhere to sit.

I danced to African gospel music with Truphosa and Annette, two 19-year-old girls at Mahiakalo, for about 45 minutes before first aid lessons started.  The rest of the kids sat around the classroom laughing and taking videos.  I perhaps made a fool of myself.

In first aid lessons we have short breaks they like to call “energizers.”  We played this game where you sing a short song called “Fishers of Men” and the Females sit down and the Males stand up when you say a word starting with F, and vice versa with a word with M.  I had played this game the Saturday before without it being explained to me- now I understand why the primary school kids thought it was so hilarious when I was standing and sitting opposite of the two female teachers next to me.  Oops.

The most common word I hear around home is “chapa.” What does it mean? “I’ll beat you.”  Yes, as in beat you up.  It’s always directed at the “naughty” two-year-old.

The 5 month old cat likes to follow me into my room (or meow outside of my window until it gets bored or I let it in) and cuddle.  I was so close to saying it didn’t bother my allergies, as just being in the same room hasn’t given me any issues.  But judging by the current redness of my eyes, I am very much still allergic.  (Although that is my own fault for being ambitious and actually petting the cat.  Then rubbing my eyes.)

The power has gone out almost every night since Monday for 20 minutes or so, except for tonight when it was out for 2 hours.  Just makes me all the more glad that I have electricity most of the time!

3 of the past 4 nights my lunch menu has been identical to my dinner menu.  Purely coincidental but I found it amusing.  (Today I ate ugali and sukumawiki, a green leafy vegetable.  Then I had more ugali and sukumawiki.  Yesterday it was rice and beans. And rice and beans.  You get the picture.)

Now that it’s just past 11 and way past my bed time, I will get some sleep.  And happily get on with my routine tomorrow. J

Mahiakalo CDC

Last week was my introduction to working in Kakamega- my first week of work at Mahiakalo Child Development Center.  First for some background on Mahiakalo:  The center currently sponsors 258 vulnerable or needy children living in Kakamega by providing spiritual guidance, access to medical care, support to the parents, and skills and leadership training.  They partner with Compassion International (check this out: http://www.compassion.com/about/aboutus.htm ) for sponsors and funding.  When school is in session, the children come in only on Saturdays for devotionals, lessons, skills training, games, and a meal.  Unfortunately that means I won’t have much time to spend with the kids as weekends are for FSD intern meetings or time for traveling around Kenya.

On the first day of work I was introduced to my supervisor, Elizabeth, and the two other employees, Mark and Ephel.  It’s a small staff and they are all in their upper 20’s, which makes very easy for me to take part in (or at least ask questions about) daily activities.  We had our weekly staff meeting first thing Monday morning, where I was debriefed on the basic mission of the program, last week’s progress, and this week’s agenda.  Ephel and I then went to the Children’s Department, a government organization, which if anything was a great indicator for the amount of patience I’ll need while working in Kenya.  We went simply to ask about any activities they had planned for the Day of the African Child (had to travel to the office  by boda since we didn’t have their contact information).  After waiting for over an hour, they told us to come back later since they hadn’t finalized their plans yet.  And then it was already lunchtime.  (I guess I’ve gotten used to finding our any information- and answers- in minutes, whether it’s a phone call, email, or Google-search away).  After lunch, I spent the rest of the afternoon asking questions and going through records of the children to track the last time they had been visited at home or school.  Each child is supposed to be visited twice a year at home and once at school, but the records hadn’t been sorted through in a while, and there were multiple kids who hadn’t been visited since 2008 or 2009.  For good reason; I don’t know how the three staff members begin to manage the issues and concerns of 258 vulnerable children and families, let alone make time for 516 routine visits home a year!

Tuesday was a similar day to my first; taking records, asking questions, sitting through a monthly meeting with the Church Partnership Committee.  Wednesday was a national holiday, Madaraka Day, so everyone had the day off work. (The interns got together in the afternoon- it was a lot of fun to reconnect with everyone and share stories of our crazy host families.)  On Thursday it was back to work, and I went on my first trip into the rural villages for home visits.  Ephel and I visited three homes of children they were particularly concerned about because they were malnourished.  The homes were humble at best: two-room “semi-permanent” structures made of mud with tin roofs.  When asked what the family had to eat the night before, the mothers would respond, “nothing.” And for breakfast? Nothing. We spent about 20 minutes in each house evaluating, asking questions, and always opening and closing in prayer.  And each time we left without answers to their problems, without knowing when the next time this family would eat.

On Friday I went on 10 more home visits, this time routine visits (instead of to children with particular concerns.)  It was a much happier experience; almost all of the kids were doing well and in school, with minor complaints like a toothache or in need of paraffin for a lantern in order to do homework at night.  It was reassuring to see smiling mothers at home and babies with round, nourished faces.

 

On Saturday it was evident that many of the kids in the program were thriving.  I got to stop by Mahiakalo CDC for an hour in the morning before my FSD intern meeting, and I was introduced to all the kids and took part in the younger children’s morning devotional.  There was so much energy, with lots of giggling and calling “mzungu!”

 

I learned a lot during my first week of work at Mahiakalo, getting used to the office dynamics and daily routines.  But now it’s time to start brainstorming a work plan for the next 7 weeks…

Until next time!

Lainey

Sensory Overload

I keep thinking that soon, very soon, I will start getting used to the Kenyan way of life.  Things will start to become normal, routine. That couldn’t be further from the truth (so far, at least).  With each new day I’m finding myself enthralled with new experiences, thoughts, emotions…  The only way I know how to do justice to the thoughts buzzing in and out of my mind is a simple (but scattered) laundry list.  So here it goes:

• Weather.  Right at this moment as I’m sitting on my bed in my room, raindrops are clunking against the tin roof.  It rains just about every day; usually hard, heavy rain for an hour or two (leaving some nice and muddy roads).  The climate ranges from up to 90 degrees in the sun down to the upper 60’s at night (which is considered “chilly” and therefore Momma Mary insists I put on my jacket and have a warm cup of coffee or tea).
•  Public transportation.  I’ve gotten a nice sampling of all types of public transportation, which is for the most part widely available and easy to use.  Matatus are vans that squish 17 (plus ALWAYS room for one more) people like sardines across your long-distance journeys.  Tuktuks are basically covered motorcycles with three wheels, but slower and bumpier.  Pikipikis are actual motorcycles (hold on tight!) and bodabodas, like I’ve said before, are bicycles.  I use the bodabodas a lot to get to and from town as they’re the cheapest and most readily available.  But pikipikis are the most fun!
• Orientation week.  On the last day of orientation week we traveled to Kisumu, took a boat on Lake Victoria, and saw some hippos. Or their noses and eyes, anyways.  When we got back we went to the disco and danced (or made fools of ourselves?) with the locals- so fun!
• Kumbikumbi is the Swahili word for fried termite.  I ate one, and it tasted kind of like a burnt sunflower seed.  I see how it’s a common snack food in Kenya, but I don’t need another one anytime soon…
• It gets really really REALLY dark at night. You can’t see your own feet, or even your hand for that matter. But the stars are that much brighter.
• Having a house with “running water” means there is one tap in the corner that we use to refill the large basins.  When you need water, you take from the basin, not the tap.
• Zungu’s (the 2 year old) toys consist of parts of a broken doll I’ve seen lying around the compound and a ball made from a rolled up and tattered article of clothing.
• Speaking of tattered clothing, an old torn shirt is used as a mop to clean the concrete floors.  Other than for cleaning and towels (and sometimes toys), clothes are carefully washed, dried, and ironed every day; a clean, put-together appearance is high priority.
• The house iron is a metal box with a wooden handle.  Simply fill the box with charcoal, start a fire, and you’re ready to iron!
• Momma Mary is very protective of me.  If its dark outside she escorts me the 20 steps out to the pit latrine. She walks me to work in the morning (despite the fact it’s just straight down the road), and she is sure to arrange a bodaboda ride home or wherever I may need to go.
• There are separate rooms in my house, but no ceilings- just one all-encompassing roof.  I can hear every sound in the other rooms (especially the snoring in the middle of the night).
• Mornings are noisy too.  The chickens sleep inside (so they don’t get stolen) and make quite a scene when it starts getting light out.
• Every morning I take a bucket shower.  I mix boiled water with cold water to get a nice temperature, keep the water in a basin, and use a pitcher help rinse off.
• When I brush my teeth, I take my toothbrush and a glass of water to a ledge outside of the house.  When I'm done brushing I rinse and spit onto the ground just outside of the house.
• There are no garbage cans here, and I still haven't exactly figured what to do with my trash.  One time I asked, and Grace had me throw it on the ground in the house. It was swept outside to the grounds of the compound later that day.

There’s always more to write, but I’m calling it a night for now.  Look out for the next post, I’ll be summing up my first week at work!

Guests Will Have Chicken

“In Kenya, when you have a guest and you love them, you show that love by slaughtering for them.”  This is what my host mom, Momma Mary, explained to me within just an hour of meeting me.  I had arrived on Saturday in the late morning, and from the very start I was treated as a guest in the house.  After showing me around the house and giving me a key and lock to my room, Momma Mary insisted that I sit in the dining/living room and relax while she and her daughter Grace (14) prepared lunch.  She also explained, as stated, that it was Kenyan culture to slaughter a chicken for a guest, and that she would slaughter one of her own hens that night for dinner.

The dining/living room I waited in was very comfortable.  It is one of five rooms in the house: my bedroom, the parents’ bedroom, a kitchen, and “bathroom” are the others.  The living room has several couches around the perimeter of the room, a short table in the center, and a television in the corner.  I sat with the host dad as we talked for a while (and although he has good English, I understood only some of what he was saying).  Meanwhile I kept thinking about how our FSD program leaders repeatedly told us we needed to be part of the family, not guests, and how we- or rather the girls- should be helping out around the house. (Gender roles are more traditional in Kenya.)  But since, after multiple requests, my host mom insisted that I relax and that I could help cook dinner, I stayed seated in the living room.

Cooking meals is a rather long ordeal, and when my host dad ran out of things to talk about we both watched the TV that is almost always turned on.  After lunch was served, we ate mostly in silence or the others spoke Swahili, with only a few English conversations. (All the more reason to learn the language!) I don’t really see it as a language barrier, since almost everyone I’ve encountered is fluent in English.  But out of cultural respect and as a personal challenge, I will try to practice Swahili whenever possible. 

After lunch I went to town with my host mom and one of her other daughters, Diana.  My host mom and dad have 5 kids, 3 girls and two boys, and I’ve only met two, Diana and Grace.  Diana is in her 20s, married, and has a two-year-old daughter who stays with her grandparents.   The girl’s name is Sasha, but her nickname is “Zungu” (short for “mzungu” because of her light appearance as a newborn), so now there are two Zungus in the house.  Anyways, Diana, Momma Mary, and I went to town on bodabodas and they showed me around a little between stops at various supermarkets.  It was really nice to already be familiar with the transportation and the town as almost everything else throughout the day was new and unfamiliar.

When we got back it was time for me to start learning.  “And now we will slaughter the hen,” Momma Mary explained as she had Grace pick one of the seven chickens the family owns.  I considered sparing you the details, but since this my only form of record-keeping for this trip, here it goes.  My host mom took the hen into the small kitchen and pinned it to the floor using her feet, the wings under one foot and the talons beneath the other.  A small tin plate was positioned underneath the hen’s neck and one of my host mom’s hands was holding its head still as it struggled violently.  Meanwhile I was crouching nervously right next to the hen with Zungu beside me, unfazed.   My host mom plucked out some of the feathers from the hen’s neck while she explained “this is the way we do it in Africa.”  Time for the knife.  Momma Mary took the knife in her open hand and made a good cut- maybe a third of the way through.  Blood ran out onto the tin plate for about a minute, and as it slowed, the chicken stopped struggling.  “Now, it is dead.”  (Whew, hard part’s over.)  She placed the chicken in a pot of boiling water to make it easier to pluck off all the feathers and peel away the outer layer of the talons and the beak.  Once the plucking was finished, the hen was briefly roasted above a pot that held a charcoal fire.  Its skin was seared to dry it out so the family could eat half for dinner and save the other half for a day or two.  Then it was time to gut the chicken, which I chose to look at exactly like a biology dissection, minus the smell of formaldehyde plus a slightly less precise instrument (think forceps vs. 4-inch butcher knife).  Momma Mary sliced the chicken open in half and used her bare hands to take out the guts to feed to the dog (after cooking them of course, as you don’t want your guard dog to start eating raw, live chickens.)  The rest was for us, except the blood, which was lapped up by the house cat.  The chicken would be cooked later, but it was then time to take tea.  I stood up and found my legs shaking slightly and wasn’t exactly sure if it was from watching the whole process or squatting for so long.  But like I said, I was here to learn, not to be a guest, and I was certainly learning the African way of life.

The rest of the past two days have been full of plenty of new experiences (and a lot of patience on the ends of both “guest” and host).  I’ve used a pit latrine in the pitch-black darkness.  I’ve attended an almost 4 hour church service conducted in a different language.  I’ve tasted the guts of a fish.  I’ve learned to enjoy a cup of hot tea.  I’m still working on establishing myself as a responsible family member rather than guest.  And I’m ready to approach the next 8 weeks I’ll have with this family with an open mind and patience.  And an appetite for chicken.