Baby Joseph

Baby Joseph.  Speaking of him creates a whirlwind of emotion to bubble up inside of me.  His parents, Nathan and Janet, worked with me at Hamomi, the school I volunteered with in Nairobi.  Part of me is so honored, as I remember being chosen to name this child, a rite which I still don’t feel was deserved.   I also feel helpless and guilty that I couldn’t/didn’t do more to help his Janet and her beautiful, and now motherless, family. I just remember talking with Teacher Nathan about how “maisha ni maisha, pesa ni pesa tu” (life is life, money is just money) when discussing how important it was to focus on his wife’s health and spare no cost to get her back.  The thought of losing her made him quiet for a second, and then he looked at me and said “Mimi, sijui kupika” (I do not know how to cook).  While I understand that part of this reaction was based in shock, his response also opened my eyes to the fact that especially in a poor family like theirs, there is no time to compartmentalize the mourning.  Personal pain and the actual logistics of the loss are experienced hand in hand, as both their companionship and contributions to daily life are gone in an instant.  Communities with safety nets can assist in lessening this shock to the family unit, but where baby Joseph now lives in Kangemi, there are none.  Nathan needed to shift into being the full caretaker of a family of now 3 children even before burying his devoted wife. 

            These personal emotions about my role and relationship with the entire family come first, but then I get an overwhelming sensation that surprises me.  I start to ache for the whole situation.  I hurt for those who stood like me in dirty hospitals where doctors are swamped to the point of not even looking up when a patient across the room yells to them in severe pain and throws up their latest attempt at a meal.  I arrived the morning I went to visit Janet and the baby a week after her cesarean section to a sight of her hobbling down the outside corridor getting the thick socks encasing her swollen legs wet as she went.  She was armed with a basin, a tiny handful of blue Ohmo detergent, and a pair of underwear.  Despite my protests, she continued to the small room used as a bathroom consisting of two units with short cement walls on the sides as partitions, and a water spigot, which you needed to wade through puddles of dirty water to get to.  She then proceeded to scrub her panties as vigorously as her weakened arms would allow, with crisp, sharp motions that have been part of her daily routine for probably as long as she could remember.  This is a task that as much as I tried to replicate, I was always laughed at for my “soft” technique.  She performed the routine as though on auto pilot, doing what she knew needed to be done, even though she was in incredible pain and could easily have just stayed in bed and let the laundry pile up, waiting for someone else to do it for her.  When I feel sick, tired, or even just lazy, I am quick to neglect chores (especially washing).  Watching her perform this task made me see that sickness is a big part of life in Kenya, and life would not continue to move on if you stopped or put off your duties during those times.  Many are living right on the brink of homelessness and starvation. A brief respite could lead to the collapse of even the small measures of stability that had been painstakingly erected. 

            After she finished the laundry, I took it outside to hang on the lines that were set up right outside the rooms.  The vivid colors of Africa stick out to most who visit, and its always interesting that they seem to be at their brightest amidst the most suffering.  Like a coping mechanism adopted by an entire region.  Here in this desolate hospital, the clothes lines were aglow with bright pinks, blues, purples, and reds.  It’s a constant reminder that death and life are intertwined, and that joy and sadness can both arise from the same circumstance.

            Next it was time for us to go to the nursery to visit baby Joseph.  I walked Janet towards the nursery and we went in and got him out of the incubator.  Only mothers are typically allowed inside, but because I’m white and was helping a visibly weak Janet, I was permitted to enter.  Any premature baby is going to look excessively tiny, but I was happy to be in a room of babies that were all in similar situations to put Joseph’s size into perspective.  He looked healthier than many, and had been steadily gaining weight, which was a great sign.  The saddest part of my day was while I sat on the floor holding him while his mother painstakingly squeezed milk out of her shriveled breasts into a cup so that we could feed him.  She began the process in obvious pain, and continued laboriously so that her child would get enough nutrients to survive.  It was as if she was emptying herself so that he might survive.  Motherhood is an incredible thing. 

            In the midst of a day of helplessness, I do feel proud to have learned enough Swahili to hear the nurses conferring about how sad it was that fathers could not go visit their children in the nursery.  After asking why this was, and pointing out Nathan as he waved from outside the door, the head nurse came over and explained that when the babies are sick, the fathers can definitely come in and see how their child is doing.  There had been a miscommunication and the other nurses had been turning the fathers away.  Nathan, even in the midst of such crisis in his family, was too respectful to argue this point, and had not even seen his child for the first week of its life.  I then guided him into the nursery and introduced him to his new baby.  I was asked to take a photo of the three of them, and am realizing that this was most likely the last photo of Janet taken before she passed away.   It was a difficult moment, capturing both the joy of them both holding their own tiny miracle together for the first time, and the complete weakness of her body, foreboding her inability to be part of that family unit in physical form again. 

Later in the day I washed some more clothes and added some laughter to the compound as any “traditional” task completed by a mzungu tends to bring.   As I stood in pooled water in the bathroom, rinsing the vomit out of the basin and began washing the few clothes I was entrusted with, the thought crossed my mind that being exposed to all these bodily fluids might not be a good idea.  I’m proud that my next reaction was that this might not have been the brightest undertaking of my life, that this is what I could do right now to help a woman who was struggling with her very life, and that there wasn’t anything else I’d feel more confortable doing. 

            Janet and I then sat by the drying clothes in the sun for a few quiet moments, enjoying the fresh air and each others company as she tried to stomach a few bites of the lunch her husband had arranged to have made for her.  Despite holding some of it down, her stomach continued making loud gurgling noises and she would vomit intermittently.  At one point her face contorted and she yelled out to the doctor doing some paperwork in the room that her stomach hurt very badly.  He barely looked up and asked her if she’d taken the medicine prescribed to her.  She replied that she had and then vomited almost effortlessly into the basin I was holding.  The doctor didn’t so much as flinch, and this was typical of the treatment I observed.  Each day, the patients were visited by a head doctor, and not even the husband was allowed to be part of the consultation.  Janet was so exhausted that she was in no state to plead her case or explain her symptoms or pains, so he hustled away without really doing anything.  Her legs had been swollen in the month leading up to her cesarean section, and continued getting worse and were very cold.  Nathan had gone out and bought her some thick socks to keep her warm, and when taking them off we noticed that the bottoms of her legs were still swollen, but there was a sudden depression that looked very unhealthy where the elastics were.  He asked me what to do about the swollen leg.  Here in a hospital, the economics major was being asked what to do.  Part of me wanted to scream that just because I am white, does not qualify me to do anything.  But having seen that the doctor either had no ideas or just didn’t care, I somehow thought of some info-mercial I’d seen for diabetic socks that keep you warm and don’t cut off circulation of swollen feet.  So we cut the elastics on the socks, and at least that seemed to relieve some of the pain around her upper shins. 

I think I maxed out emotionally around noontime and seemed to drift through the rest of the day as we struggled to understand the system and took Janet for X-Rays etc. I left a bit overloaded, but hopeful that Janet had in fact stomached a bit of food, and seemed to be feeling slightly more comfortable.  This gleam of hope has since been shattered by her passing, but it reminds me that there were good points of that day.  A joyous moment that stood out to me was watching about 20 vibrantly clothed pregnant women crowded into a room awaiting their time to give birth.  Their camaraderie was evident, as they embraced their collective struggle, alternating their time between pacing while yelling in pain, and laughing at the others who paced once their own contractions receded.  One lady was pacing and ended up against the railing outside yelling and experiencing back pain.  Her husband timidly tried to soothe her by running his hand along her back, when another woman (also very pregnant) shoved him aside and began digging into the woman’s back with her elbows and fists.  This caused the entire clan to laugh about how men don’t have a clue what needs to be done in this situation.  The spirit of African women was alive in that room, and knowing how important bearing children is as part of their society, they were not about to let a man belittle their plight with a feeble caress   

There is no easy way to sum up my experiences that day.  I am glad I could have been there, to help in at least some small ways, and gain a better understanding of the challenges facing a family I’d come to feel a deep connection to.  But losing a friend is a steep price to pay for a learning experience.  There is also the feeling of guilt that maybe I could have done more.  Some of my frustrations stem from the attitude of passivity that accompanied the whole process.  Nathan just kept working to help his wife as best he could, even though he kept running into roadblocks.  His response to each doctor who kept just prescribing another X-Ray (the cost of which would just be added to his ever growing hospital bill) was to do what they recommended without a complaint.  I really respected the humility held by both him and his wife, as they seemed to take what came at them with grace and without anger.  I wanted to parade around and demand better answers and to convince people that Janet was a wonderful person worth fighting for.  I was torn for wanting to honor how the family had chosen to handle this crisis, and yet feeling the need to do something to feel that I wasn’t completely helpless. 

At first, I suggested the name Joseph because it seemed to be an easy name for Kenyans to pronounce.  I thought that Nathan was asking lots of people for ideas for names, and was then going to choose the one that him and Janet liked best.  But instead he had chosen me to choose the “Christian” name for the baby, and would go with whatever I decided.  This upped the ante on my decision, but Joseph stuck in my mind.  Chapters 37 – 50 of Genesis describe Joseph’s life, especially his rise from life as a lowly slave to that of the Pharoh’s right hand man.  Nathan and I discussed Joseph as a man who started low, rose to be great, yet maintained his humility throughout.  Though our lives have taken us to different locations, whenever Nathan and I talk, we always refer back to that conversation and continue to pray for the future of Baby Joseph, and his older brothers Sammy and Godwin.

Since writing this, baby Joseph has also passed away.  Upon hearing this news, I was overwhelmed with a sense of peace, as his earthly suffering has ended and he is now in a better place.  Please continue to pray for the rest of the family and the entire Hamomi community with whom I truly loved learning from and laughing with. 

  

So I'm back in the US now!  Landed in San Francisco on Sunday afternoon.  The last couple weeks in Nairobi were very busy with lots of last minute things to do, and many goodbyes.  I finished up my classes at Hamomi, leaving my laptop with the school so that they can continue learning with it.  The last day was very sad and I even got tied up to a post so I couldn't leave.  Basketball threw me a lovely party and I was very appreciative of how much they had welcomed me into their family over the past few months.  Some close friends (council members) and I also had a last night out to celebrate our time together and hold us over until we meet again.  I had one last afternoon selling books with the boys at COI, and a nice party day in Mwiki where we cooked pilau and an epic cake and shared them with neighbors and friends who passed through all day before I headed to the airport.  All in all, a week that made me so thankful for all the wonderful friendships I have in Kenya, yet overwhelming knowing that I'd be leaving them all soon.

Ecclesiastes 1:18- "For with much wisdom comes much sorrow; the more knowledge, the more grief."

This verse explains some of how I feel coming back from Kenya.  Once your eyes are opened to a new world, a new suffering, you can't really go back to how you were before.  You carry that knowledge with you wherever you go, and it influences your very being.  I now have that burden of privilege to deal with, having recognized how blessed (especially materially and with things like the ability to get a visa and move around freely) my life has been, and how disadvantaged many others are.  Instead of drifting idly along living in blissful ignorance of the suffering around me, I have seen, heard, ate, held, and felt poverty.  The people who live in a daily reality many couldn't even imagine are my friends.  They have talked, laughed, and learned with me.  I've made fun of their attempts at using a tiny laptop, while they have been simultaneously snickering at my Swahili.  Now as I'm out making important, life implicating decisions about things like my career etc., I hold the memory of our friendships in my heart, vowing to follow God into a place which enables me to help their situation, giving them access to a better life where they too can have a platform to better spread the joy they so generously shared with me.


Times I realize I just lived in Kenya for 6 months:
- Standing in disbelief and shock when a driver lets me, a pedestrian, cross in front of them
- Can't get enough cheese...
- Good beer tastes like pure gold
- Wanting to go the wrong way around the rotaries
- I'm attention starved walking down the street and not having everyone talk/yell to me
- Not judging each  white person I meet
- I find myself looking down the street for a shop to buy a banana at to no avail
- When I find myself walking longer than I wanted to to get somewhere, telling myself its ok because I can just take a matatu back, so sad realizing that that is not an option here
- Customer service freaks me out a bit
- Instead of ignoring the woman along the road giving her quick one line pitch trying to get me to stop and listen to why I should donate money to her cause,  I extended my hand and shook hers
- I open the mailbox all the time.  Even if its Sunday and I know there is no mail.
- Rushing home like Cinderella, with a curfew of dark that nobody else has/is aware of
- I don't feel rushed at all when meetings go long
- Seeing vendors on the street makes me thankful for the convenience of not having to walk inside a store, not annoyed at their taking up the sidewalk
- Its hard for me to go a whole conversation without having to rethink my words into English
- I'm annoyed to have to go all the way to the store to buy basic foods (yet relieved at how relatively close that same store is for less basic ones)
- I almost don't even put down the toilet seat cause I'm used to none being there
- I constantly regulate the temp of the shower water, even if I get it right the first time

Well it was a wonderful journey back to Kenya, and I look forward to continuing my relationships there and returning again sometime soon.  As I continue to debrief and think about this experience, I might post more insights/funny stories, so keep a look out!  And more photos to come : )

Kenya: Home of the free [stuff]

A typical day lately finds me walking through Mwiki, greeting people as I go.  When I reach the restaurant that sells chapatis, I am typically offered one in exchange for some chewing gum.  Then I get to the stage and get excited if I find that one of my friends is working a bus there.  If so, we joke and talk and then they tend to pay my fare.  It’s nice, and I tend to carry food for them as especially during rush hours they work hard and typically go home with about 700 shillings a day (1,000 for drivers, which amounts to about $13USD).  Sometimes they pay for me and I don’t bring food, and sometimes I bring them food and they don’t pay.  I like relationships like this where we both look to help each other out, but we don’t need it.  After reaching town, I walk to another bus station where I take the bus to Kangemi where Hamomi is.  The man who organizes the bus I take wears this cute sailors hat and loves the fact that I teach classes.  He always quizzes me with trivia questions through the window while I sit on the bus.  If the bus is about to take off and has no more seats, he kicks someone off so I can get on the bus that is leaving soon and not have to wait for the next one to leave.  Once in Kangemi, I start my walk to school, and every third day or so a piki piki (motorbike) driver will come up to me and ask if I want a ride.  When I say no, that I will just walk and have no intention of paying, they say OK and go away.  The people around me laugh and then I give them this smug look knowing what will come next.  The driver will drive away a bit, then come back and say “nitakupromote” which means he’ll promote me, and take me for free.  After school, my friend takes me on his piki piki to the stage.  He actually gets disappointed if decide to walk with friends or students instead of getting a ride from him.  My knowledge of Swahili makes me intriguing and they like talking with me, and the drivers also get lots of street cred for being seen taking the mzungu around.  It’s a nice relationship I have here with Kenya.  I give my time and energy to various projects like Hamomi at my own expense, and then many people bless me with free things.  I like constantly being reminded how interconnected the world is, and how we can all do something to help out, even indirectly.

 

Working for free is another topic I’ve been thinking about lately, and it seems to fit into this blog topic nicely.  There are varied schools of thought on this subject, ranging from its benefits in the form of gaining relevant experience and assisting an organization, to disrupting the economics of the labor supply and demand curves.  A related example of the latter is like how at Hamomi a volunteer paid for the school to use an additional classroom for 5 months.  I thought this was a wonderful gift until it came up in the context of school operations and learned that it is now difficult because there is not money in the budget to continue paying that additional rent, and they cannot keep the classroom.  Therefore, this was an unsustainable improvement.  Similarly, if someone works for an organization without being paid, it can be difficult to replace that workload once they leave because there had not been money budgeted in for a salary related to the specific work they had done. 

For me, it has been an interesting experience and my views have developed throughout my time here.  Most people I know here are Kenyans, but one day recently I went to dinner with some white girls who have been working here.  They are all really cool, but the dinner made me think a bit.  I typically feel very small in gatherings like this, as I don’t have a job, or a nice apartment, or access to the social world of ex-pats here.  But I kept getting asked to order things because I know Swahili, and I was also responsible for bringing some Kenyan friends to hang out with us.  When my friends came, I ended up sitting in the middle of the table, with my Kenyan friends to one side and my American friends to the other.  My positioning at the table couldn’t have been better, as I felt in an in between place, not fitting in with the Americans and their conversations and lives here, but also not being Kenyan.  My feelings of insecurity were later changed as I realized that while I may not yet have the professional success of many here, I know Kenya, and that is something that some people have stayed here for years and not been able to say.  I enjoy my humble life here where I can enter into conversations with pretty much anyone here, from the women washing clothes by the river, to the Americans with high powered jobs, and be able to engage in a meaningful conversations because we share common bonds. 

In working for free, I’m constantly reminded that I am doing what I do because I want to do, not because I need the paycheck.  I truly enjoy going to school each day and actually feel guilty when people praise me for being a good person and volunteering my time to these children.  Instead of having it feel like a sacrifice, I feel indebted to everyone I interact with for making my life so enjoyable.  If I can work a job for no pay and enjoy myself, I want to make sure that moving forward in my life, I find fulfillment and happiness in whatever job I work.  Obviously money is important, but detaching the act of working from the fiscal reward will help me to evaluate potential careers in a more honest light.  Working for free has opened my eyes to the other motivations we bring into a job, but sometimes loose sight of because of the paycheck. 

Well that’s enough for now, I’m gonna try to upload this post using the free wi-fi of a café and then go for a run.  I’ll be in Cali July 1st, and then to the East Coast at the beginning of August.  See you guys soon!

A rainy day in Nairobi

So here's a good story of my day yesterday... After teaching my computer class I walked back with some kids to their house and waited out the rain a bit.  Then once it stopped, I headed to town to see if I'd have bball practice.  So I left at 3:30, stopped along the way to eat a little when I had to change vehicles, and then reached town around 5 in the midst of a torrential downpour.  Nothing here is meant for rain, so I had to bob and weave my way through traffic and massive rivers which had taken over the roads to get to my friends who sell books under an overhang.  I was feeling silly walking in my soaked jeans and no umbrella, although I had my nice northface rain jacket on.  This feeling was confirmed as I approached looking for a bit of a laugh, and heard coming out of the crowd that had gathered around their books "you look like shit!!".  I love good friends : )  It was cute as the crowd parted to let the soaking wet white girl who apparently knows the booksellers in.  We hung out a bit as I tried to get warm and thought maybe the storm might subside, then I waded and jumped my way to my bus.  Got on the bus and sat in a soaking wet seat (which I decided was better for me to do than anyone else as I was already soaked though) and then the bus took off.  This was at 6pm.  Roughly 45 seconds later, the bus stopped, still within sight of the bus station we'd left, and we sat there in traffic for the next 2 hours.  I just kept laughing through this whole situation and am not sure I can describe it fully, but here goes- I'm wedged into a three seater so that I'm by the window, the guy next to me keeps talking to me and kind of hitting on me (which is weird cause he's old, but I play along cause I'm bored and its more fun to talk when stuck on a bus), and the bus leaks.  So I had to keep my rain coat on and zipped as there was a spot above me that allowed the rain to pass through every so often.  The radio had some cool mixes on, and it was just a very silly situation stuck, contemplating the fact that the traffic might never move, rocking out in the rain, on the bus.  Got to a friend's house who lives on the way to my house at 9pm, and took a hot shower and drank some hot chocolate.  Very silly, very Kenya, night.  2 days ago it rained for 30 minutes in town and it took me 4.5 hours to get home.  It's amazing to me how a small storm can literally shut down the economic hub of East Africa.  A good parallel of life here though, as most people make enough money to pay the regular bills and eat, until one thing like a funeral, or medical bill comes up- then with minimal safety nets , the savings are used up and then life gets difficult.  Its been 2 days between this incident and now that I’m actually ready to post it, and another humorous story should probably be added here.  Today I got off my matatu in the rain and was so proud of myself for carrying my umbrella and having it accessible enough to use right away.  So then as I walked my way to where I was going I stepped in some mud and sunk in up to my mid calf.  As I pulled upwards against the suction of the mud to get my leg out, my flipflop came off and stayed in the mud.  So then I was in the middle of this muddy road trying to balance my umbrella with one hand, and digging in the mud with the other arm.  It took me a full 2 minutes to locate my shoe and pull it out.  Some guy saw my struggles and offered to help me while we both shared a laugh, but I was able to proudly hold up my arm/show which were both covered in mud in success and continue on my way.  Well I’ll try my best to stay dry moving forward, although the rain seems to bring more funny stories with it… : )

Upcountry 2.0

At 90 years old, you would expect Papa Matilda’s grandmother to be either retired and living a quiet life at home, or possibly in a nursing home somewhere.  But that is much less of an option in rural Kenya, and as we showed up at her house on Saturday we found her sitting on the ground enjoying the afternoon.  Our presence prompted her to get up and excitedly greet me, Mama Matilda, and her great grand-daughter Jasmine.  After talking for a while, she led us past her kitchen (which is a self contained room at the front of her property which seems to have a constant stream of smoke coming from it), and the main house building, to her garden/farm.  There are avacado trees, banana trees, maize, passion fruit, and sugar cane growing right by the house.  Further down the valley they also have chai (tea) growing plentifully (the whole area does and walking around you are surrounded by beautiful bright green plants).  She had carried her machete and quickly cut us 5 stalks of sugar cane to carry back with us.  As we sat back down to eat one before going home and sharing with the rest of our family and friends, she stripped the outer covering off from her seat on the ground, passing each of us and some of the kids who were playing nearby the fruits of her labor.  At first I felt awkward that she had given it all away and kept none for herself, but then I realized that she has only about 5 teeth, and therefore is unable to eat this delicious, chewing intensive, treat. 

 

The big reason for us going upcountry was to host a Thanksgiving service at the local church there.   So we invited lots of friends and family and were able to fill the little church to the point of people standing outside and listening from there.  Mama Matilda had two very difficult childbirths, and this was a celebration where they publicly thanked God for the immense blessing of their two beautiful children and healthy mother.  It was very humbling to be a part of their family, which truly takes the time to see God in the little things and doesn’t take his blessings for granted.  As a family, we bought a bunch of plastic chairs to donate to the congregation as an upgrade from the thin wooden benches with no backs which I found uncomfortable, never mind the aging population of the church on a typical Sunday.  Mama Matilda was telling me that their plan is to buy more chairs each time they are blessed with money. 

 

 

This is Mama Matilda, Papa Matilda, and Jasmine standing up the hill a bit from their upcountry home.  There is not a bad view in the area, and I love just standing outside by the house and looking out at the hills and valleys filled with various crops and especially chai.  I like the pace of life upcountry, especially when there on vacation (farming is very hard work and I wasn’t involved in that side of life there).  Saturday morning I washed the floors throughout the house, ridding them of a few months of dirt and dust since they’d been up there last, while our good friend Ann washed all of the dishes.  Then the two of us just hung out for a while on the benches by the house, later we helped cut things to help cook lunch, and watched Jasmine.  It was a nice amount of having time to just relax and enjoy being there, while also having the opportunity to work and pitch in when you wanted to.  I spent one night on this bench where I laid down just as it was beginning to get dark, and stayed there for the next 3 hours or so (even taking my dinner on the bench) watching the stars.  It was so cool as there is not power there yet, so the stars are many and it was sweet to see them all come out, and then wait as the clouds rolled in and they disappeared again.  I liked feeling like I was part of the whole cycle.  Papa Matilda’s brother Michael and also one of the young boys who live with the neighbors kept me company, and we laughed and joked while watching the stars.  It was a great night!

  

 

The class 8 kids at Hamomi are eagerly learning in computer class, even taking their exams early so as to get in more time with me.  Today we built a spread sheet and learned about Microsoft Excel, they will each be getting email addresses soon as well.  Last week we went online and I asked them what they wanted to learn about.  So we googled “planets” and they were intrigued to click links and learn information about each planet very easily.  We checked out image searches and found nice pictures as well.  It’s cool seeing their eyes opened to things that I’ve known most of my life and taken for granted.  I haven’t been using the internet much at all lately (either because I haven’t bought credit for my modem, the internet here hasn’t been working, or I’ve been busy and away from my computer), and there are many times that I realize how easy it would be to find out information quickly online, but instead end up going through a more round about process to figure things out.  For instance, I wanted to know who won March Madness, and met a kid at the basketball court who had DSTV (the big cable package here) and then he went home and later texted me what he found out from watching ESPN.  Everyone is a bit more dependent on each other here.

 

We had a lengthy discussion on the car ride home from upcountry yesterday about the culture of giving in Kenya, and the challenges facing foreigners living here.  It is very Kenyan to serve a large meal to visitors, no matter what time they come to your home.  So no matter what the culture is where you are from, you are expected to adapt to the local culture and provide this to visitors, especially since they do it for you whenever you go there.  The mutuality is nice here, although I’m realizing that I need to depend on people a bit more, asking of them just like they ask of me.  We also talked about giving money to people in your family who are really in need, and when it would be ok to refuse them, and especially when working in the NGO world, to ensure that you are not neglecting your own family to help others in need. 

 

I’m learning about myself as I struggle daily with the opportunities to give to those around me.  When within a mutual relationship of giving and taking, I am excited to join into this culture and love picking out food to carry with me and give whenever I stay at someone’s house for the night.  But when I feel that people are expecting me to give, that is when I find myself holding back and becoming more guarded.  Ironically, those situations are when I am truly faced with need and when people could really benefit from a gift.  Yet I struggle with wanting to be seen as a person, building relationships, instead of just a meal ticket.

 

How people view “the rich” is also an interesting thing.  It seems that nobody anywhere ever likes the rich, yet they work their whole lives to be one of them.  People in the US get annoyed when people with money spend it, and see it as flaunting it in their faces.  People in Kenya get upset when rich people don’t spend their money on them and share what they have. 

 

So I hope you are doing well!  Kenya is great, starting to get rainy which makes things a bit different, but still very good.  I love the work I’m doing with the various organizations I work for, and am loving getting better at Swahili.  Going to see an And 1 basketball game this weekend which should be lots of fun!  Love you all :)

Stories from Nairobi

 

We have been waiting for it to rain here in Nairobi, and today it happened.  In church last week the pastor asked the congregation to pray for rain, although my mom (who was here for a week with my Melissa and Uncle Dave Johnson as well) said she’d pray that there was no rain for as long as they were here.  Apparently her prayers were stronger than the rest of the people, because it held off, and a day after she returned to the US, it has rained.  I love the smell of rain.  I’m realizing that living in California, and then moving to Kenya, I have gone almost an entire year without seeing much rain.  The rain tends to depress me sometimes like in a place like Meadville where it happens for days without letting the sun shine, but here, knowing that it has come to nourish the fields and that food will once again become cheap, and farmers will be able to make a living, it comes with a different connotation than just making me stay inside.  My friend Greg told me that if a Kenyan hears a gun shot, they will continue to go about their business in the same vicinity of the shooting, whereas if they feel a drop of rain- they will run screaming for cover.  Today as I arrived and began my walk to Hamomi, I was enjoying hearing the swirling of the thunder, knowing that the rain was about to come.  Just as I came into sight of the school, it began pouring.  The 1st and 2nd grade classrooms spotted me and begain screaming “kimbia! kuja! mzungu, kimbia!” which means come, run, come!!  So I ran through the first few minutes of the rain and reached the safety of the classroom and we pulled the door shut just as the rain turned very heavy.  It must have made for a very humorous sight (that is if anyone had braved the rain and stayed outside to watch long enough, which I strongly doubt).  The roof of the classroom is tin, so then we all sat trying to move the desks away from the walls that were getting wet, yelling instructions to eachother, yet unable to hear anything due to the pounding on the roof.  The teacher had gone out and left them with some homework to fill out, so I sat and made sure they finished it.  Next, they gave me books on science and religion, so I taught about the parts of animals such as wings and horns, and then told the story of Abraham obeying God to the point of willingness to sacrifice Isaac.  After the rain let up, I climbed up the hill to the offices (which I’m very proud to say I managed without falling), and hung out with the teachers over lunch.  This is always a fun part of my day and I enjoy the jokes we tell and how I get better at Swahili.  

 

I had a great week with my mom, uncle and sister!  They got to see my life here, ate lots of food, met many of my friends, and spent the end of the week by the ocean.  Thank you guys so much for coming!!!

Yesterday I went swimming at a public pool and I love going here because the level of swimming is so different than in the US.  Here most of the learners are adults, and many of the kids can swim circles around the adults, many of who learned on their own in rivers.  We have been teaching my friend Kevin to swim, and his goal is that by the time I leave to go back to America, he will be able to go with us into the deep end.  I learned to swim all these fancy strokes in swimming lessons as a kid, so it was funny teaching them to people who have just learned to swim on their own and without formal teaching.  My friends want to learn to “stand in the water” next time we go, which is to tread water without your hands.

Last night I boarded the bus to go back to Mwiki and read my book.  For the last 10 minutes of the bus ride there was a drunk guy who kept yelling at me and trying to bother me.  It was dark by the time I reached the bus station in Mwiki and I was trying to think of a way to get rid of this guy as a boarded so that he couldn’t follow me.  Then one of the guys I know from a barber shop I stop and talk to people at occasionally (some of my many friends in town I greet daily) spotted my trouble and pushed the other guy away and walked with me to the barber shop.  We then picked up another friend and they bought me soup.  They boil meat with some water, adding flavorings, and then serve the flavored water as soup.  My friends handed me my cup saying that it would most likely make me sick.  How’s that for a warning!  But it was delicious, and I finished and then had them walk me home.  So I’m happy to report that God has blessed me with many good friends, and turned a potentially bad situation into a good one that didn’t even end up with a stomach ache!

Here are some random observations I’d like to share with the world. You should be able to share these insights with your friends and feel smart and cultured:

When Kenyan women are learning to type on a keyboard, they have difficulty just pushing down a key enough for only one letter to be typed. Their hands are rough from years of tough labor and that delicate touch is not the first instinct.

The word “funga” means close, and is also used in basketball to refer to finishing a basket, or dunking the ball. (This tidbit is courtesy of the women’s club team I’ve been playing on lately which is really fun)

Standardized testing is huge in Kenya. The news for the last week or so has been all about the secondary schools in the nation who ranked the best on last years end of secondary school examinations (KCSE). Kids in their senior year put tons of effort into passing this test, the results of which are the biggest factor towards any continuation to university.

I watched the Uconn Syracuse Big East Tourney game with friends and we all were thinking of where we were when watching that epic 6 over time matchup a few years ago. Even separated by so much distance, its kind of cool to see how common our lives are at times. And even though my internet has been super spotty lately, worked it out and filled out my March Madness bracket!

“1 like a stick, 2 like a duck, 3 like a butterfly, 4 like a chair, 5 like a pussycat, 6 like a spoon, 7 like a walking stick, 8 like a snake, 9 like a head and leg, 10 like a stick and ball” This is a song for how kids here learn to write numbers.

This is a bit old, but an interesting tidbit none the less- There is a province called Nyeri in Kenya and last month a bunch of cases occurred there of men being beaten by their husbands.  Spousal abuse by men is much more common here than in the US, but it was very interesting to see it going the other way, and the cases were on the news showing men being beaten and scarred within an inch of their lives.  In response to this, the chairmen of Men’s rights issued the women of Nyeri a “red card” for their actions on national tv. 

There was a soccer game between two national teams that are tribal rivals here recently and they had to stop the game for 15 minutes because the fans started to riot and throw rocks on the field.  An interesting sight to watch on tv as these professional athletes walked across the field removing the rocks from the playing field so the game could resume.  It was like the girls who gather the flowers once a figure skater skates and people throw things like animals onto the ice. 

One of my favorite things about Kenyans is that they like sharing stories.  Hope you’ve enjoyed the selection of ones I’ve told here!

Hamomi

The last post was part of the computer class that we (Brady and I) have been teaching at Hamomi. 

Laurel and Eric taught the students when they were here as well, and we’ve been reviewing some of what they learned before, practicing typing, and recently learning to write letters (both informal and formal).  Brady and I also hang out with the kids during PE, and have enjoyed playing football, kickball, and also many singing games that the kids enjoy.  Hide and Seek is also a favorite (some things seem to naturally transcend cultural boundaries.  Today Brady and I also adventured around to a local Kinyozi (barber shop) and he got his beard and hair cut and trimmed (see the convenient before and after pictures for easy reference).  It was fun, and the barber was excited to cut his first mzungu’s hair. 

I was able to have a nice conversation with him in Swahili and translating what he wanted his hair to look like felt like taking Aaron to get a hair cut for my Christmas present, where I had the power to make things look awful with a moment of neglect, or the wrong vocabulary in this case.  Many Kenyan men complain of bumps from shaving on their own here, and it is so cheap to go to the barber shop, that many go for both their beards and hair to be trimmed.  They use an electric razor for both the head and face.  Then after he was done, lathered up Brady’s face with 3 different applications of after shave.  It was quite the treatment, and if you get your head shaved it typically comes with a massage as well.  One of the fun things I’ve been up to lately is teaching a woman (and sometimes her friends as well) to use the computer.  I was walking to school and started talking with her about her life and mine, and what typeof things had brought us to the bridge together that morning.  When she heard that I was going to teach a computer class to a primary school, she asked me how much I charged for lessons, and said that learning to use a computer would greatly help her to communicate and organize, without depending on others as much.  I loved that it was something she suggested, and was so interested in that she was willing to pay for it.  So each Monday morning I go and sit with her on a hill by a stream and we learn about email and typing.  It’s been fun getting to know her, and watching her eyes be opened to a totally new tool.  I just finished reading the book the “Blue Sweater” by Jaqueline Novogratz who left a career at Chase Bank to pursue a course of empowering those around the globe in need.  It’s a fascinating narrative that I highly recommend, and was wonderful to read while here, as most of it takes place in the same part of East Africa where I am.  She eloquently elaborates on topics and emotions I feel each day, yet hadn’t fully sat down and recognized until I read similar things in her book.