Attachments

On one of her living room walls, Amina has a large poster on which past volunteers have glued their photos and written farewell notes. When I first arrived, I thought they all seemed exaggerated, ("You're my mom away from home," is a common theme) especially for the individuals who only stayed with her for a couple weeks. Now, it is clear to me that these people truly felt attached to Amina because I, too, feel the same.

Living with Amina has been better than I could have hoped for. Our personalities simply clicked (she's a Sagittarius). Having had an interesting experience with my host mother in Spain, I braced myself for what was to come this time around. I hit the jackpot with Amina, however, and now I am worried for my host mom in Mombasa, as she has large shoes to fill. Amina is hilarious; she is sarcastic (definitely my kind of person) and says what is on her mind. She is a poster child for the strong, no-nonsense, independent woman. I admire that. Also, she is an expert at ignoring my pleas to give up washing my sneakers since they are only going to continue to get dirty (although she somehow makes them look cleaner than when I bought them, which is a convincing factor for her argument). Her guidance and advice for surviving Kenya, and more specifically Githurai, has been invaluable. She taught me essential Kiswahili phrases to use against persistent men looking to make it big in America with their new Caucasian wife. As life here can sometimes be frustrating, it was comforting to know she is looking out for me. The care she has for me is something I feel deeply and there's no way to repay her for that. She has indeed been a mom away from home.

Aside from Amina, I will suffer a loss from the Elshadai kids, as well. The whole week I've been feeling sad about the looming inevitability of my departure. The girls and boys frequently confirm which day will be my last and have made it clear that they are upset about my leaving a month earlier than I originally told them. We have been having increasingly enjoyable days together; we celebrated a pizza day, organized a party with balloons and cake, and spent endless hours playing at the school lot. Every day is more exciting than the last.

There are always certain people we connect with more in any setting and the orphanage has not proved differently. Five year old Nivah and eleven year old Eric I have grown very close to. Nivah is always taking the opportunity to sit in my lap or hold my hand, and when she tells me she loves me, I melt. Eric is a little man; strong and confident on the outside but sensitive on the inside. He also has a gorgeous smile (upon verbalizing this to him, he became terribly bashful about it). I realized the connection I feel with each of them must be what it is like for soon-to-be parents who adopt children (don't worry, mom, I won't come home with a child). Instead, I need to use these types of connections to motivate me to find change on a broader scale. It will be kids like Nivah and Eric whom I will strive to make improvements for in the field of human rights and community development.

When I arrive in Mombasa, I will meet a whole new group of children and will eventually go through these feelings of attachment again. Regardless, the Elshadai children will always be special to me and each and every personality will be engraved in my memory forever. When I look at photos and videos of them, I laugh at their joy, wit, and companionship. They are truly a family and one that is happy just being together. They reinforced the lesson of the importance of love and laughter over material things. At the end of the day, they are the reason I went home with a smile on my face, and to me, that makes every challenge worth it.

The Halfway Mark

On safari, I had a lot of time to think. One topic I chose to reflect on was my time in Kenya so far. The halfway mark of this trip is approaching this weekend and it is a good time to analyze the ups and downs of this adventure. 

I have been having countless new experiences which have been enriching in some way or another. I am glad I challenged myself to come to Kenya. I am also glad, however, that I did not commit to a longer period of time. Considering this is the first time I embarked on such a journey, it was a good decision to transition with a short time frame. With almost one month gone, I have already been able to identify the things I am able to handle and the causes I feel more drawn to. For example, next time I would want to focus on a specific topic, such as FGM or reproductive rights for young women. It is necessary to have a goal to work towards because it is easy to lose motivation otherwise. I have also been able to identify the foundation of frustrations I face: lack of structure, to be broad. In terms of location, I would not be opposed to returning to Kenya but would most likely choose another country first, for the sake of going someplace unknown.

Orphanage work is difficult but mainly because of my status of "outsider". There are some barriers non-Kenyans face, including language. Although most of the children speak English, like I've mentioned, it is still not their native language and I am far from fluent in Kiswahili. Cultural barriers are also present, such as difference in social etiquette. The children have many chores to perform, such as laundry, which they do not often like to receive help with. This is understandable but also leaves me with little time to engage with them on their chore days. It can be frustrating, as I was warned it would be. When I do have time to play with them, we complete puzzles, do homework, read, or walk to a nearby school to use the lot for outdoor activities. The boys and girls enjoy soccer the most. They also love to be photographed, as well as taking on the role of photgrapher.

Next week, I will be transferred to Mombasa to teach children for the month of May. This will provide me with a chance to have two trips in one considering Nairobi and the coast are wildly different. It will also aid in reducing the stagnation I sometimes feel here. Mombasa will be a more active and lively placement due to both the nature of work I will be doing and the lifestyle and culture of the coast. As Franceska will be heading home to Canada earlier than planned, I will face this new placement alone. I am not sure how many volunteers are currently there but either way, it will be exciting. I'm proud of myself for being independent enough to face new challenges on my own.

I know, and have always known, that I am a New York girl. My life there is invaluable. I love living in the suburbs yet having the option to take advantage of all NYC has to offer, which is quite a lot (although that doesn't mean I'd turn down an apartment in Manhattan!). Living near my parents is very important to me, and my pup, Zula, keeps me laughing with all her antics. I have traveled quite a bit but acknowledge there are obviously countless countries I have yet to discover. Based on the places I have been to, however, I know I could not permanently live in any of them. Of course, I may travel somewhere new one day that will completely steal my heart, but until then, I'll continue calling New York my home sweet home.

Note to Self: Don't Ask What Kind of Elephant You're Looking At When You're in Africa (It's African)

The first moment it really hit me that I was indeed in Kenya occurred two weeks after my arrival. While riding a bike much too large for my body through Hell's Gate National Park (I let them know they should really think about catering to people with short legs), a few zebras bolted across the road in front of me. In the whirlwind of dust, all I could say was, "OH MY GOD!" over and over and over. It was an incredible moment, one that really took my breath away.

There have been several other moments of this sort, specifically my entire three day weekend spent on safari. We drove through Kenya on game drives, as the sun rose brilliantly in the sky, keeping our eyes peeled for the "Big Five" (lion, rhino, leopard, water buffalo, elephant). Ultimately, we saw four of the five; we would have had to be very lucky to see a rhino considering there are about thirty left on the Mara. Aside from the main events, we saw so many incredible animals (and some gorgeous Danes). Stopping to admire the majestic views and incredible species, I felt as though I was in a volume of National Geographic. Of course, I was most thrilled to see lions (maybe it's the Leo in me). 

When we neared a tower of giraffes (as I learned is the correct term for a group of giraffes), they were startled and ran away; I realized it seemed to be in slow motion not because my TV was broken but because giraffes are graceful when running, unlike myself. Jackson, our safari guide, successfully approached the following animals to the point that we were so close I wondered if I would experience death by charging elephant: lions (Simba and Nala), giraffes, elephants, cheetahs, leopard, zebras, hippos, alligator, jackals, warthogs (Pumbaa), meerkat (Timon), wildebeest, gazelle, topi, and hundreds of different birds. Hyenas were usually only heard barking throughout the night but on our last morning, we drove up to a lone hyena dragging and gnawing on a large carcass. Fun fact: hyenas can snap just about any bone in the human body except knee caps, so, watch out.

At the Manyatta Safari Camp, where we spent two nights, I was completely disconnected (their WiFi claims turned out to be false). In addition, the camp runs on a generator, therefore electricity was turned on for only a few hours at night. With only limited outlets, those hours were mayhem. Luckily, my battery pulled through somehow, so I was able to admire the beautiful sky. I have always loved the night sky and staring at the stars so I had been looking forward to camping far away from bright lights to do just that. I was definitely not disappointed.  The sky was blacker than my mascara, which is pretty black. It was decorated with so many stars and various constellations were clearly visible. Between the serenity of the night, and the game we saw during the day, I couldn't have been happier. Oh, and did I mention we had running water? It was luxurious.

Driving around the unmarked, and ridiculously rocky roads, of the Mara for hours at a time, on three consecutive days, raised two important questions: 1. Was there a trusted chiropractor in Nairobi? 2. How was Jackson finding his way around without a GPS?  He has been going on safari almost every weekend for five years but I am still impressed and/or suspicious of his directional skills; I could really use some lessons in this department. Overall, I've made an executive decision that safaris are wonderful. And though I totally wanted to witness a kill, I was glad Simba made an appearance, even if it was a lazy one.

Kiswahili Lesson 2

Chagua maisha: choose life
Fahani: pride
Wachana na mimi: leave me alone
Mimi na wewe: me and you
Siku ilikuwaaje: how was your day
Tunakulanini (leo): what are we eating (today)
Tafadhali ni saidia na...: can I please have...
Naangalia...: I am looking for...
Umetoka wapi: where are you from
Nimetoka (new york!): I am from (new york!)
Tafadhali usiniongeleze: please don't talk to me
Unasema nini...: how do you say...
Mtu: somebody
Asubuhi: morning
Alfajiri: afternoon
Alasiri: evening
Usiku: night
Hiyo: this
Andika: to write
Soma: to read

Body
Mwili: body
Pua: nose
Macho: eyes
Jicho: eye
Mdomo: mouth
Urimi: tongue
Jino: tooth
Nywele: hair
Shingo: neck
Maskio: ears
Sikio: ear
Uso: face
Kucha: nail
Mikono: hands
Mkono: hand
Miguu: legs
Mguu: leg

Clothes
Nguo: clothes
Rinda: dress
Fulana: pullover sweater
Shati: shirt
Kaptura: shorts
Surualindefu: pants
Viatu: shoes
Kiatu: shoe
Soksi: socks
Mshipi: belt

Living Positive Mlolongo

As it turned out, my dentist has a friend who works with an organization here in Nairobi and and also happens to be from a town over from mine back home; small world, huh? She put me in touch with him before I left New York. Aside from the invaluable advice he bestowed upon me, he arranged a meeting on my behalf with his fellow members at Living Positive Mlolongo. Early yesterday, I made my way over to Mlolongo and met with Cate, the social worker at LPM. She elaborated on LPM's mission, explaining their focus on empowering women living with HIV. Since it is difficult to help a mother without helping her child, the organization has expanded to also aid these women's children through means of sponsorship, education, and health. It is important to note that they strictly believe that every dream is valid but it cannot be achieved if one does not wish to take steps to help themselves. This is incredibly true.

I spent the day making home visits with Cate. We commuted to different slums to meet with some of the women LPM  works with. The slums were in the most dire situations. The "houses" were small shanty structures made of tin and plastic. The floors were dirt. There were chickens walking on the blankets where the children slept. Despite these factors, the children still managed to maintain cheerful dispositions. Of the stories I heard, there were both uplifting and heartbreaking ones. I'd like to recount some of them now:

1. Mary* has been living with HIV for three years. However, she has not yet informed her husband, mainly due to marital issues. She believes he may no longer welcome her in their home. As she has worked hard to attain the life her family has, she has a right to remain in her home. However, her husband also has the right to know. She managed to persuade him to get tested but, as it turns out, he is negative, making them what is usually know as a discordant couple. As a village elder of Mlolongo's Zone 3, Mary often takes in children who are not hers. Aside from her children, Faith and Joseph, her sister's two children are also residing in her home. The only two people who know about her status, aside from LPM staff, are her daughter and son. It is often feared to speak about having HIV as the stigma is particularly strong in Kenya. However, help cannot be afforded to someone who is silent. Mary has been taking excellent care of herself and receives about five months worth of medicine each time she returns to the doctor. She says she feels strong.

2. Karen is another village elder of Zone 3 in Mlolongo. It was only recently that Karen found out about her positive status. She is married to a Pastor and they live in a house afforded them by the Church. She has one daughter, Phoebe. Karen also cares for George, her sister's nine year-old. George does very well in school, which will hopefully motivate Phoebe to improve her grades, as well. It is particularly imperative for these children to excel in their classes so that they have a better chance of getting sponsored. George is under Karen's care because her sister was the victim of domestic abuse by her husband. She divulged that her sister's husband had turned violent on two occasions before their mother removed her from that environment and brought her to live at her house. Karen's sister's attack last year left her disabled to an extent. The burns she received on her body limit her from performing any strenuous movements or activities that require long periods of standing. Being unable to properly care for herself, she is even less able to also care for her son. Although a case was opened against the man who committed these heinous acts, no one has followed up. It is important to keep up with such cases so that proper justice can be reached. In addition, if the man ever came back to claim his son, which he technically has a right to do, there would be no documentation of his violent behavior and would be allowed custody of George.

3. At twenty-two years old, Stacy has already been through a lot. She is one of twelve children and has three of her own, with another on the way. She has been positive for five years. Luckily, her children do not have HIV. She feels frustration and pain due to her mother's alcohol abuse. Her mother and father fail to provide the necessary care and affection to their children, which strongly affect the entire family. They have married off daughters with intentions revolving around money. They tell their children to work and give her their income, which she will ultimately spend on becoming intoxicated. Although her children have attempted to address the issue with her, the situation does not change. Stacy has tried to leave home several times, but always returns. One of her sons has a protruding hernia stemming from his belly button. It is painful and aesthetically displeasing; both are reasons he cannot attend school. Since money is squandered in Stacy's family, she is trying to find another way to afford the operation her son must undergo. Unfortunately, she has not been able to get work yet, partly due to her pregnancy. There is a hospital that performs free operations, which she hopes to get her son admitted to.

*All names have been changed.

Meeting with Stacy put me in shock; we are the same age. It is incredible how differently two people can spend twenty-two years.

Thank you LPM for the opportunity to meet with women who challenge, not only HIV, but the stigma that goes with it. The women who dare to break the circle of poverty and shame are the ones who will truly change the world and inspire others to do the same.

Tatiana in the Kitchen

I don't belong in the kitchen. That could be a feminist statement, but it's just the honest truth. My cooking skills range from boiling water with an electric teapot to slicing tomatoes for my kale salad. I've attempted making entrees and take my word for it, it ain't pretty. The thing is, I enjoy my food simple therefore have no need, nor interest, to cook. Is that such crime?

Kenya has been teaching me the ways of the kitchen, however. I've already learned how to cook various native dishes. The other day, I helped make chipati at Elshadai. First, we made the dough, which required enough kneading to triple the size of my arms. Then, we floured the table we'd be working on and began to cut pieces of dough to form into balls the size of my palm. ("Amina's Style" rolls out the dough flat, cuts strips, and coils them to resemble cinnamon buns). We took each ball and rolled it flat with a wooden rolling pin; by the end of all this hard work, there were 60 chipati. While I was getting covered in flour, and fantasizing about my future as a world-renowned chef, Benjamin began frying. When I came home that day, Amina looked at me and said, " You made chipati today." At the sight of my quizzical look, she replied, "You're covered in flour, that's how I know." I can't get anything by that woman.

Taking advantage of my cooking mood, Amina decided to teach me to make ugali that same night. This is another common Kenyan dish made from cornmeal and is quite similar to polenta for all my Italians out there. Most foreigners find this dish to be flavorless, which I must agree with. Luckily, it is eaten with vegetable sides, such as cooked spinach, or omena (tiny fish with a taste like anchovies). Making ugali is quick and easy: after boiling water in a pot, the cornmeal is slowly poured in and must be simultaneously stirred until it gets very compact, in which form it is served. Amina had to take over at one point during my mixing because she said I was too weak. These Kenyan women are constantly impressing me with their hidden strength.

Aside from making Kenyan meals in Amina's kitchen, every Sunday night is "Muzungu Night," which means I have to wrack my brain to think of something to make that isn't constituted of kale and tomatoes. For our first Sunday dinner, Franceska and I made an omelette, except we made it in a pot. Don't try this at home, kids; it only ends in frustration and ugly scrambled eggs. We realized after our blood, sweat, and tears that Amina indeed had a pan, which would've made the entire experience more enjoyable. I guess that's what we get for not asking. As for our second Sunday dinner, we thought a simple Russian salad with beets and potatoes would be easy and delicious, and of course, a fruit salad for dessert. This turned out to be even more complicated than the omelette. To add insult to injury, Amina and the kids (Amina's daughter, Sarah, and niece, Nicole, are here) didn't necessarily jump at the opportunity to try the beets. Honestly, I don't blame them. Boiling anything over a tiny coal stove, on which there is no such thing as adjusting temperature, is challenging, therefore the beets were perhaps a little too hard and the potatoes a little overcooked. Hopefully, it's the thought that counts.

So, it seems my dreams of being a chef were short-lived. I'll have to stick to take-out and salads. Also, I'll need to find myself a man who can cook, which I'm definitely not complaining about. Breakfast in bed, anyone?!

Jua na Uchafu

Sunburnt is the understatement of the century. The first day I went to the school, I wore a tank top and no sunscreen. Obviously, this is my own fault but I've learned my lesson and really don't see the need for further punishment. I've only burned this way one other time in my life: in Lima, which is equally as hot due to its proximity to the equator. The skin on my shoulders has blistered (gross) and I'll definitely peel like a snake soon.

Jua nikali (the sun is very hot) here in Kenya, obviously. Even on breezy days, the sun beats down on you in a most unforgiving manner. I have been wearing long sleeves because I would rather have a heat stroke than look like a leper. The kids do not seem to be affected by the heat as much since many of them wear sweaters and tights. Perhaps the most perplexing sight was the sale of peacoats at the market. Who in their right mind is sporting a peacoat here?! Insanity.

Clothes wear out fast here, especially the children's, due to the sun and dirt. The children's clothes are washed at Elshadai. There are no washing machines, and as I said before, no running water. Everything must be washed by hand, which is not the most appealing chore if you remember that diapers are too expensive for many families. There are definitely no drying machines, either. It is a process of soak, scrub, rinse, rinse, hang to dry. Kezia says it is the most laborious task to complete. Sometimes there are too many clothes to wash so she must call someone (read: a woman) to help, whom she will pay 500-1000ksh. Sometimes there isn't enough water to wash at all.

I have not washed any clothes yet, however, I did take my first "shower" by means of pouring buckets of cold water over my head. Once I poured the first one, it wasn't so bad. I'm not confident the soap completely washed off my body, but at least I have some form of getting clean other than baby wipes, which got old very quickly. The day after I showered, I looked as though I hadn't. The dirt is inescapable, BUT it's been giving me an amazing spray tan for the best price in town: free!

Kiswahili Lesson 1

I use these words and phrases daily. Im sure I'm butchering a lot of the spelling, but hey, at least I can pronounce them correctly.

Phrases:
Jambo/mambo/sasa: hello/hi/hey (Reply: poa/ jambo sana)
Asante: thank you
Asante sana: thank you very much
Karibu: welcome/you're welcome
Kwaheri: goodbye
Tuonane baadaye: see you later
Tuonane kesho: see you tomorrow
Kesho: tomorrow
Hapana: no
Ndiyo: yes
Twende: let's go
Koja: come
Kiasi gani: how much
Kuelewa: I didn't understand
Jina lako nani: what is your name?
Jina langu ni.....: my name is ....
Jua nikali: the sun is very hot
Habari asubuhi: good morning
Nini: what
Wapi: where
Pole: sorry
Pole pole: slow
Araka: fast

Words:
Kushoto: left
Kulia: right
Mtoto: baby
Wewe: you
Meza: table
Kiti: chair
Lala: sleep
#1-10: moja, bili, tatu, nne, tano, sita, saba, nane, tisa, kumi
#20: irishini
Matatu: small crowded bus for public transportation

Animals:
Mbuzi: goat
Samaki: fish
Kuku: hen
Jogoo: rooster

Food:
Chipati
Ugali
Chai

Muzungu

Children are so innocent, no matter where in the world they are from. As a muzungu (someone who is a native English speaker) I am the object of fascination of many people, particularly children. Walking through Githurai translates into children running up to me, and any other muzungus I may be with, yelling "Hi hi hi muzungu!," and touching our hands. Based on testimonies I read from other volunteers, this is common. However, it is such a striking event and impossible to become accustomed to. Yesterday, when Franceska and I left Elshadai, a group of school kids immediately bombarded us and upon grabbing our hands, exclaimed, "their hands are so soft!" Franceska and I didn't know what to say. Kids pick up on the most interesting things.

All the children at Elshadai speak English and speak it well. There are currently 26 children who call it home; the youngest, Anthony, is 3 1/2 and the eldest is 17. I do not see much of the teenagers except for Benjamin who laughed at me when I asked what that animal with no feathers on its neck was (it was a chicken). Charles is the youngest mtoto (baby) at the orphanage but he is not technically under Elshadai's care. He is the baby of Debra who works at the orphanage. He cries when he sees muzungus but he is slowly getting used to us. Yesterday, when we drove over to the school to bring the kids lunch, Charles rode on my lap. He didn't cry and actually seemed very content, which was a big step for him.

Elshadai is run by Pastor John and his wife, Kezia.  They are registered with the government but do not receive a single Ksh (Kenyan shilling) for help with the children. John and Kezia must rely on help from friends and donations. When there is a need to feed 26 children, plus staff, plus the staff's children, plus themselves,  donations seem to go only a short way.  Budgeting is actually a necessity and there is no such thing as spending too much because when the money runs out, that's it.

There is no running water at the orphanage and no Western toilet. The latter I experienced in Morocco but definitely not to this extent. One's imagination cannot fathom how desperate the outhouse situation is at the orphanage. Disease is so easily spread for reasons I have experienced for myself and it is frustrating to know that cleanliness is not an option for these children. Chickens and roosters walk around the orphanage. Washing hands is not common since water is scarce, especially since the water they use is collected rain water and it has been dry for a while despite this being the "wet season".

The children need attention more than anything. They go to school through sponsorship of the orphanage. When we went to the school to visit them, we played with them as well as the other school children who do not return to Elshadai at the end of the day. All they wanted to do was play with the muzungus. They played with our hair, jumped on our backs for piggyback rides, and became captivated by my tiny silver stud earrings. I tried to learn as many words as possible from them: bata (duck), buzi (goat), habari asubuhi (good morning) plus a lot more I will make a separate post for. The children all have English names: Faith, Charles, Eunice, Stella, Nelson.  This is not surprising after realizing pretty much everything is in English here and it comes as a huge surprise when a muzungu speaks even a word of kiswahili. The road signs are in English, the shops advertise in English, and the soap operas are in English.

On the topic of soap operas, "The Poor Heiress" is pretty fantastic. It is what we watch with Amina at 6pm sharp every day while eating dinner. A lot of international soaps air on Kenyan TV with incredibly horrendous English voiceovers. There is everything from Filipino soaps to Mexican soaps (looking at you, Erica). After 6, we are not supposed to be out unless we are coming home via taxi, so usually we watch soaps and the news in kiswahili with Amina then play with Dornel, her 4 year old son who has more energy than any child I've ever known. He finished school this week and will resume in May. There are three major breaks during the school year: three weeks between April and May, three weeks between July and August, and five weeks for the end of the school year between November and January. By the way, he just passed his exams at the top of his class. All he's been chanting is "I'M NUMBER ONE!"