Hello. I am just briefly writing to say.. I am back in Western Kenya. Came back Friday but headed straight up to Kakamega Saturday morning. Sarah and I took Tanya to the very peaceful Rondo Retreat for her birthday. I was in bed by 8:30 last night with a very good book (currently reading Margaret Atwood's "Lady Oracle" and enjoying it immensly), while the rained pummelled our lovely colonial accomodations. Heavenly..
So. Won't be back on internet until next Friday. I owe so many people long, long emails (Laura, Mimi you are on the top of my list I promise), my inbox needs some work.
Anyway, tomorrow I am headed to Busia and Mumias, but I will have gathered myself by this time next week. Really. b xx
Sunday, May 27, 2007
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
May 20, 2007
I am in Kitui and once again I am the only person in the whole hotel. A strange sensation. I am in Kitui Tourist Hotel, though unbeknownst to me a room had been booked at ‘Multipurpose’ where the training is being held. I guess I will go there tomorrow. Or maybe I won’t. I guess I should have a look at it first. Of this hotel all I will say is.. the rough guide is very very wrong. It’s location doesn’t even approximate the one marked on their map. It is barely even in the same town as their map. Subsequently I spent a good hour wandering around with my heavy back pack until my hands went numb and I asked a succession of people where I was going. Someone at the “Traveller” restaurant volunteered to drive me and so I jumped in! Claire had given me the directive “it’s down the hill from the law court” this didn’t prove particularly useful as I had no idea where the that was either.
Kitui appears to be about 100,000 more times interesting than Kajiado. Maybe that’s unfair. But for one, it’s bigger. For two, it’s quite beautiful. Rolling hills that open on to lovely views. Surreal (a Kitui based VSO volunteer) assures me its quite boring. Kitui, by the by, is also the location that Peace Corps use to train their Kenya based volunteers (there are about 150 in country at any one time I believe) so I am told at times it is overrun with wzungu (us white folk).
Sometimes it is easy to be complacent about what I do. Lately I am a little pissy with teachers because they are so clueless (my perception not necessarily reality). The other day I actually said “if you call a child stupid or an idiot, you really need to rethink your choice of career” an immensely unsupportive thing to say even if I believe it to be true. Anyway.. I forget my ‘people are doing the best they can with their resources’ mantra and want to rant about the need for adults to take responsibility for their own learning. I am predictably stirred up whenever 1. people are really bloody late and show up at leisure and then put on their feedback form they wish there was more time and 2. the issue of their sitting stipend comes up (yes, you can’t run a workshop unless you feed people, pay for their transportation and give them a stipend to attend.. the first two I get, the last infuriates me). Anyway, sometimes I am a fairly abrupt deliverer of information.. and then I get feedback like this (see below) and I think.. you know what.. these teachers really are doing their best, and they really do care.
- good, keep up. Do it to the rest of the teachers in schools in Kenya
- you have changed my family, life and career as well to the better
In response to three things learned during this workshop one participant said the following:
• It is good to encourage every attempt
• I should not be shouting at pupils
• Every child when given the right environment can perform
Hallelujah. I can quit and go home now. One person heard me. Bev would be so proud.
May 22, 2007
Last night the feeling of ‘life is good’ settled on me like my covers as I crawled into bed. Kitui feels like the countryside. If I had a different life, I’d be tempted to pile my family in my car and go for a drive. I have managed to spend much of my time here lost. I have set off each day with the misguided notion that I know where I am going, and sure enough, many hills and valleys later, it occurred to me, not only did I have no idea where I was going, I had no idea where I was.
The training is going well and Abbie and I are probably going to come back and visit Kitui ECE (Early Childhood Education) Training Center in August. Right now I am attempting to write a paper about early childhood in Kenya based on my experiences last summer. Okay.. well I am not yet attempting to write it, but its been on my mind since January and the deadline is June 1st. I was reading through Kenya’s Early Childhood Curriculum syllabus today. My favorite part was under religious studies and it looked like this:
19.2.3.9 Things created by Allah
• Universe
End of lesson. I liked the succinct nature of the syllabus.
Speaking of the universe. Recently I thought to myself 'what I need is a doctor!' It was two fold. Firstly I need to go to a doctor, because I have this nasty chest congestion which has not cleared in nearly a month now (I cough up the contents of my lungs daily which is fairly nasty). Also, I had decided that I liked Phil and I liked our life together, but I needed someone who wanted to live in the developing world.
Last night I was sent a doctor. I couldn’t stop laughing as I drank down my beers. I had never specified what I really wanted and well.. where to begin? Mid conversation I would just crack up. I really can’t explain.
May 23, 2007
I am in Nairobi. It's Tanya's birthday and we are going for Japanese food tonight. Hurrah. Will head back to Kisumu Friday I think, spend the weekend with Tanya and Sarah in Kakamega and then up to Mumias for their district training on Monday. I love the Mumias team. Martin called me today to tell me he had only assigned me one session! It's the first session, the intro to definitions.. I already loved Martin, now it is the undying variety. They are so boldly confident that they know their stuff. I love it. I am glad. Plus I am sick of doing sessions 2,4,5,7 and 9! I am supporting two simulatneous trainings next week so I also plan to be in Busia at some point.
Alright. Need to go to Kassarani and wash my hair. It's nasty. I forgot shampoo/conditioner to Kitui. Soon. B xx
I am in Kitui and once again I am the only person in the whole hotel. A strange sensation. I am in Kitui Tourist Hotel, though unbeknownst to me a room had been booked at ‘Multipurpose’ where the training is being held. I guess I will go there tomorrow. Or maybe I won’t. I guess I should have a look at it first. Of this hotel all I will say is.. the rough guide is very very wrong. It’s location doesn’t even approximate the one marked on their map. It is barely even in the same town as their map. Subsequently I spent a good hour wandering around with my heavy back pack until my hands went numb and I asked a succession of people where I was going. Someone at the “Traveller” restaurant volunteered to drive me and so I jumped in! Claire had given me the directive “it’s down the hill from the law court” this didn’t prove particularly useful as I had no idea where the that was either.
Kitui appears to be about 100,000 more times interesting than Kajiado. Maybe that’s unfair. But for one, it’s bigger. For two, it’s quite beautiful. Rolling hills that open on to lovely views. Surreal (a Kitui based VSO volunteer) assures me its quite boring. Kitui, by the by, is also the location that Peace Corps use to train their Kenya based volunteers (there are about 150 in country at any one time I believe) so I am told at times it is overrun with wzungu (us white folk).
Sometimes it is easy to be complacent about what I do. Lately I am a little pissy with teachers because they are so clueless (my perception not necessarily reality). The other day I actually said “if you call a child stupid or an idiot, you really need to rethink your choice of career” an immensely unsupportive thing to say even if I believe it to be true. Anyway.. I forget my ‘people are doing the best they can with their resources’ mantra and want to rant about the need for adults to take responsibility for their own learning. I am predictably stirred up whenever 1. people are really bloody late and show up at leisure and then put on their feedback form they wish there was more time and 2. the issue of their sitting stipend comes up (yes, you can’t run a workshop unless you feed people, pay for their transportation and give them a stipend to attend.. the first two I get, the last infuriates me). Anyway, sometimes I am a fairly abrupt deliverer of information.. and then I get feedback like this (see below) and I think.. you know what.. these teachers really are doing their best, and they really do care.
- good, keep up. Do it to the rest of the teachers in schools in Kenya
- you have changed my family, life and career as well to the better
In response to three things learned during this workshop one participant said the following:
• It is good to encourage every attempt
• I should not be shouting at pupils
• Every child when given the right environment can perform
Hallelujah. I can quit and go home now. One person heard me. Bev would be so proud.
May 22, 2007
Last night the feeling of ‘life is good’ settled on me like my covers as I crawled into bed. Kitui feels like the countryside. If I had a different life, I’d be tempted to pile my family in my car and go for a drive. I have managed to spend much of my time here lost. I have set off each day with the misguided notion that I know where I am going, and sure enough, many hills and valleys later, it occurred to me, not only did I have no idea where I was going, I had no idea where I was.
The training is going well and Abbie and I are probably going to come back and visit Kitui ECE (Early Childhood Education) Training Center in August. Right now I am attempting to write a paper about early childhood in Kenya based on my experiences last summer. Okay.. well I am not yet attempting to write it, but its been on my mind since January and the deadline is June 1st. I was reading through Kenya’s Early Childhood Curriculum syllabus today. My favorite part was under religious studies and it looked like this:
19.2.3.9 Things created by Allah
• Universe
End of lesson. I liked the succinct nature of the syllabus.
Speaking of the universe. Recently I thought to myself 'what I need is a doctor!' It was two fold. Firstly I need to go to a doctor, because I have this nasty chest congestion which has not cleared in nearly a month now (I cough up the contents of my lungs daily which is fairly nasty). Also, I had decided that I liked Phil and I liked our life together, but I needed someone who wanted to live in the developing world.
Last night I was sent a doctor. I couldn’t stop laughing as I drank down my beers. I had never specified what I really wanted and well.. where to begin? Mid conversation I would just crack up. I really can’t explain.
May 23, 2007
I am in Nairobi. It's Tanya's birthday and we are going for Japanese food tonight. Hurrah. Will head back to Kisumu Friday I think, spend the weekend with Tanya and Sarah in Kakamega and then up to Mumias for their district training on Monday. I love the Mumias team. Martin called me today to tell me he had only assigned me one session! It's the first session, the intro to definitions.. I already loved Martin, now it is the undying variety. They are so boldly confident that they know their stuff. I love it. I am glad. Plus I am sick of doing sessions 2,4,5,7 and 9! I am supporting two simulatneous trainings next week so I also plan to be in Busia at some point.
Alright. Need to go to Kassarani and wash my hair. It's nasty. I forgot shampoo/conditioner to Kitui. Soon. B xx
Sunday, May 20, 2007
Kajiado - Thursday May 17, 2007
Well.. tonight can probably rank in the top 20 wierdest nights of my life. Really. But let me back up.
This week has sucked on the whole. Though my blues only lasted a scant 24 hours, no I’d say more like 30 hours I still prefer happiness over my crabby pants self (who doesn’t?).
Monday. I took easy coach from Kisumu to Nairobi. Jumped off at Westlands, had a drink with my Kenyan boy, took a cab to Kassarani and was blessed with Sarah’s cooking.. nothing less than a wonderful vegetable curry (coconut milk and eggplant seemed like such novel flavours).
Tuesday, I went to KISE (Kenya Institute of Special Education) with Tanya to meet the staff, and then giggling to myself over the previous nights conversations I headed into Nairobi. My mood pretty much plummeted hence forth. No one was available to meet with me at VSO, and my long list of chores (including embassy visits) seemed impossible. At 1pm I found myself at lunch with Potash and 5 hours and too many beers later I realized that not only had I not done anything useful with my day I hadn’t gone to the store or started dinner for Tanya and Sarah. Fortunately when I arrived in Kassarani Tanya beckoned me from the balcony of a pub and several drinks later I completely bailed on the pretense that I was making dinner and we munched on chapattis as we walked home in the dark. None of this sounds terrible, but by the next morning (and I did go to bed at 8:30) my shit colored glasses were firmly in place and I had a “what’s the point?” attitude about just about everything. As Sarah and I rode into town she tolerated this line of thought for a whole lot longer than she should of. We did email, had coffee and I decided not to go to Kajiado as scheduled. Instead I went back to Kassarani meditated (which turned into a nap) and attempted to do some computer work. I also swam with Tanya when she got off work. The pool she goes to is a funny place really. It’s the Kassarani sports complex. It looks like it was built by the Russians and although both Tanya and Sarah go there often I find the place desolate and a bit freaky. But afterwards I made dinner and my mood generally improved (exercise perhaps?).
So this morning.. made a short but seemingly epic journey to Kajiado. About one hour north of the Tanzania border it’s an interesting part of the country. When you come out of Nairobi the plains to the south open up before you and Kajiado is one of those places where you can experience the full bredth of the horizon. Today the sky was low and heavy with cloud, and honestly for this one horse town it seemed apt.
Alex my albino colleague and counterpart is really quite knowledgeable about all sorts of things, and I was impressed at the level of organization for the training. They are running the workshop in a ministry administration lecture room (sounds much fancier than it is) but the people doing the food are a huge improvement over Kisumu’s caterers. Really I just have a secret penchant for mdazi (sp?) and we get them twice a day with chai.
So, each district perceives me to play a different role and before I offer or refute any service provision I try and find out exactly what it is they want from me. With Kajiado I have no idea. I think they want me to marry a Masai man and stay permanently, but I pointed out it had already been done and the book already written so perhaps I need something different for myself. Claire only came to Kajiado once, and I can’t recall if this is the district she avoided because she didn’t like a staff member or it was some other.. anyway the coordinator for Kajiado EARC is an interesting character and an aspiring politician (though his candidacy won’t be official until July!). When he offered to take me out dancing during my next visit and I nodded absently I was suddenly uncertain about what exactly I had agreed too. He also promised me a position on his staff if he was elected if I would volunteer to support his campaigning by writing documents. My English he claimed was better than his. Possibly. I pointed out that VSO probably wouldn’t be that hot on me creating political material, especially when it was for the opposition party.
But anyway, politics aside, I can’t remember another evening, when I’ve been in a dive bar, drinking warm beer in a small and unalluring town with a couple of new colleagues and two other unknown men eating fish, ugali and skumawiki with my hands whilst they all chomp on goat bones. And its times like this when I am thankful. Because .. all along.. isn’t this exactly what I had in mind for my life? Lala salama. B xx
May 18, 2007
Today I am bored. What a nasty, dirty word. One I try to avoid at all costs. I have re-written a developmental play group article I am working on with Martin, I have attempted to pen a letter to Jamie, I have created fancy pants Ministry of Education certificates and now.. I am just trying to keep my eyes open, because it would be rude to sleep in the training. They are currently writing educational goals. This activity may have been going on for the last 20 minutes. Roll on 4:00.
(the boredom was catching by the way.. at least 2 other people pronounced they were bored later this same day. oh dear.)
Today
Headed to Kitui today. Soon. b x
Well.. tonight can probably rank in the top 20 wierdest nights of my life. Really. But let me back up.
This week has sucked on the whole. Though my blues only lasted a scant 24 hours, no I’d say more like 30 hours I still prefer happiness over my crabby pants self (who doesn’t?).
Monday. I took easy coach from Kisumu to Nairobi. Jumped off at Westlands, had a drink with my Kenyan boy, took a cab to Kassarani and was blessed with Sarah’s cooking.. nothing less than a wonderful vegetable curry (coconut milk and eggplant seemed like such novel flavours).
Tuesday, I went to KISE (Kenya Institute of Special Education) with Tanya to meet the staff, and then giggling to myself over the previous nights conversations I headed into Nairobi. My mood pretty much plummeted hence forth. No one was available to meet with me at VSO, and my long list of chores (including embassy visits) seemed impossible. At 1pm I found myself at lunch with Potash and 5 hours and too many beers later I realized that not only had I not done anything useful with my day I hadn’t gone to the store or started dinner for Tanya and Sarah. Fortunately when I arrived in Kassarani Tanya beckoned me from the balcony of a pub and several drinks later I completely bailed on the pretense that I was making dinner and we munched on chapattis as we walked home in the dark. None of this sounds terrible, but by the next morning (and I did go to bed at 8:30) my shit colored glasses were firmly in place and I had a “what’s the point?” attitude about just about everything. As Sarah and I rode into town she tolerated this line of thought for a whole lot longer than she should of. We did email, had coffee and I decided not to go to Kajiado as scheduled. Instead I went back to Kassarani meditated (which turned into a nap) and attempted to do some computer work. I also swam with Tanya when she got off work. The pool she goes to is a funny place really. It’s the Kassarani sports complex. It looks like it was built by the Russians and although both Tanya and Sarah go there often I find the place desolate and a bit freaky. But afterwards I made dinner and my mood generally improved (exercise perhaps?).
So this morning.. made a short but seemingly epic journey to Kajiado. About one hour north of the Tanzania border it’s an interesting part of the country. When you come out of Nairobi the plains to the south open up before you and Kajiado is one of those places where you can experience the full bredth of the horizon. Today the sky was low and heavy with cloud, and honestly for this one horse town it seemed apt.
Alex my albino colleague and counterpart is really quite knowledgeable about all sorts of things, and I was impressed at the level of organization for the training. They are running the workshop in a ministry administration lecture room (sounds much fancier than it is) but the people doing the food are a huge improvement over Kisumu’s caterers. Really I just have a secret penchant for mdazi (sp?) and we get them twice a day with chai.
So, each district perceives me to play a different role and before I offer or refute any service provision I try and find out exactly what it is they want from me. With Kajiado I have no idea. I think they want me to marry a Masai man and stay permanently, but I pointed out it had already been done and the book already written so perhaps I need something different for myself. Claire only came to Kajiado once, and I can’t recall if this is the district she avoided because she didn’t like a staff member or it was some other.. anyway the coordinator for Kajiado EARC is an interesting character and an aspiring politician (though his candidacy won’t be official until July!). When he offered to take me out dancing during my next visit and I nodded absently I was suddenly uncertain about what exactly I had agreed too. He also promised me a position on his staff if he was elected if I would volunteer to support his campaigning by writing documents. My English he claimed was better than his. Possibly. I pointed out that VSO probably wouldn’t be that hot on me creating political material, especially when it was for the opposition party.
But anyway, politics aside, I can’t remember another evening, when I’ve been in a dive bar, drinking warm beer in a small and unalluring town with a couple of new colleagues and two other unknown men eating fish, ugali and skumawiki with my hands whilst they all chomp on goat bones. And its times like this when I am thankful. Because .. all along.. isn’t this exactly what I had in mind for my life? Lala salama. B xx
May 18, 2007
Today I am bored. What a nasty, dirty word. One I try to avoid at all costs. I have re-written a developmental play group article I am working on with Martin, I have attempted to pen a letter to Jamie, I have created fancy pants Ministry of Education certificates and now.. I am just trying to keep my eyes open, because it would be rude to sleep in the training. They are currently writing educational goals. This activity may have been going on for the last 20 minutes. Roll on 4:00.
(the boredom was catching by the way.. at least 2 other people pronounced they were bored later this same day. oh dear.)
Today
Headed to Kitui today. Soon. b x
Saturday, May 19, 2007
Sunday, May 13, 2007
My blogging abilities have gone down the toilet. Too tired to write. Too disorganized to get around to uploading things I do write. Sorry.
Great weekend. But that's another story for another time. The highlight.. perhaps spending the afternoon by the pool at Kiboko Bay drinking cold Tusker Malt. Headed to Nairobi tomorrow. b xx
p.s. i forget the words exactly but i was told my last post was terrible, pompous, something something, contrived, superficial... you get the gist. My apologies.
May 10, 2007
Kisumu is in the midst of district training. It is challenging my inner control freak. Really. Does it matter where the chart paper is posted on the wall. No. Of course not. But I still have to squelch this desire to have things happen the way I would do it. I am just in a supporting role. Oh, that’s right.
I must say Caro and Silas are doing very very well. I did get this overwhelming sinking feeling during the assessment session though. I wondered.. what is the point of doing a speech and language training when children with special needs are basically sitting in classrooms in their own little universe, while teachers do what they do without ever attempting to meet the child at their level. So basically as we talk about service provision, we are talking about actually finding out what the kids know. I keep chanting “everyone is doing the best that they can with what they have, everyone is doing the best they can with what they know.” It’s true. I need to develop better checklists to assess the teachers and measure their behavioral change.
“Let’s take time and pray for our tea” says Silas. Here. Here.
Evening
I have been eating so much raw onion lately I am officially undateable. Guacamole on toast tonight which is a considerable step up from the two packets of Maggi/ramen noodles last night. Tuesday night I did make a pretty stunning Provincial Tomato soup if I may say so myself. It was so weird though.. I was standing in the kitchen cooking, listening for Brian to arrive and I swear I heard a key turn in the lock, like “honey I’m home.” But the thing is I don’t even have a lock like that, I have bolts and a padlock. It must have been my dismissed inner housewife calling.
Getting home from work at 6 pm is significantly worse than getting home at just say 3 or 4. I was very very cranky this afternoon because I had to go back into town and print off the certificates for tomorrow’s ceremony. I would have suggested someone else do it, but it occurred to me that my colleagues don’t actually type anything themselves. They hand write documents and take them to a lady downtown who does the typing and prints it out. Not particularly expedient. There was also a threat of no transportation, which never really materialized as an issue. I would have been doubly cranky if I had to hoof it through Kondele at 7pm.
Speaking of which.. I came home the other day, took my shoes off, walked in and stood on something. Disgustingly enough is was a massive roach. I was so disturbed to have killed in such a manner. Urrggh.
Anyway, this week is one of minimal excitement. They are building an actual wall around the compound so now it actually seems like one (was a barbed wire fence covered in blossoms of bougainvillea (sp?) before). More privacy now, less light, I’m not thrilled about it, but I may create a potted garden by my back door. Sadly the chickens and goats can’t really wander through.
Kajiado’s training is next week so I am going to head to Nairobi on Monday I think. I’ll write next week. b
Great weekend. But that's another story for another time. The highlight.. perhaps spending the afternoon by the pool at Kiboko Bay drinking cold Tusker Malt. Headed to Nairobi tomorrow. b xx
p.s. i forget the words exactly but i was told my last post was terrible, pompous, something something, contrived, superficial... you get the gist. My apologies.
May 10, 2007
Kisumu is in the midst of district training. It is challenging my inner control freak. Really. Does it matter where the chart paper is posted on the wall. No. Of course not. But I still have to squelch this desire to have things happen the way I would do it. I am just in a supporting role. Oh, that’s right.
I must say Caro and Silas are doing very very well. I did get this overwhelming sinking feeling during the assessment session though. I wondered.. what is the point of doing a speech and language training when children with special needs are basically sitting in classrooms in their own little universe, while teachers do what they do without ever attempting to meet the child at their level. So basically as we talk about service provision, we are talking about actually finding out what the kids know. I keep chanting “everyone is doing the best that they can with what they have, everyone is doing the best they can with what they know.” It’s true. I need to develop better checklists to assess the teachers and measure their behavioral change.
“Let’s take time and pray for our tea” says Silas. Here. Here.
Evening
I have been eating so much raw onion lately I am officially undateable. Guacamole on toast tonight which is a considerable step up from the two packets of Maggi/ramen noodles last night. Tuesday night I did make a pretty stunning Provincial Tomato soup if I may say so myself. It was so weird though.. I was standing in the kitchen cooking, listening for Brian to arrive and I swear I heard a key turn in the lock, like “honey I’m home.” But the thing is I don’t even have a lock like that, I have bolts and a padlock. It must have been my dismissed inner housewife calling.
Getting home from work at 6 pm is significantly worse than getting home at just say 3 or 4. I was very very cranky this afternoon because I had to go back into town and print off the certificates for tomorrow’s ceremony. I would have suggested someone else do it, but it occurred to me that my colleagues don’t actually type anything themselves. They hand write documents and take them to a lady downtown who does the typing and prints it out. Not particularly expedient. There was also a threat of no transportation, which never really materialized as an issue. I would have been doubly cranky if I had to hoof it through Kondele at 7pm.
Speaking of which.. I came home the other day, took my shoes off, walked in and stood on something. Disgustingly enough is was a massive roach. I was so disturbed to have killed in such a manner. Urrggh.
Anyway, this week is one of minimal excitement. They are building an actual wall around the compound so now it actually seems like one (was a barbed wire fence covered in blossoms of bougainvillea (sp?) before). More privacy now, less light, I’m not thrilled about it, but I may create a potted garden by my back door. Sadly the chickens and goats can’t really wander through.
Kajiado’s training is next week so I am going to head to Nairobi on Monday I think. I’ll write next week. b
Tuesday, May 08, 2007
May 8, 2007
It is after midnight and I am not sure why I am awake. That is.. I have been asleep, albeit not for long. When I first awoke I just assumed that it was 3 am ish. Last night I was awake at this hour and I had the crack pot notion that maybe someone in a different time zone was thinking about me very hard (Ha!). I wished they wouldn’t do that while I am trying to sleep. I always think that there must be a reason I have fallen out of dream-state, and the latest and greatest conclusion probably comes directly from my current reading material. But it’s not 3, it’s 1:06 and here I am.
I returned to work to sad news. During break, my colleague’s 9 year old daughter was raped on the way to market by ‘a big man’. He is worried about the fact she has to be on prophalactic anti-retroviral medication and is unsure of their effect on her. I tried to be reassuring (about the drugs, not the event). I am glad that this horrible thing isn’t being treated like a big secret. There is guilt assumed in things no one talks about.
Kisumu’s the first district to do their teacher training. It starts Wednesday and I was impressed to return and see the preparation Silas and Caro had already done. Given they hadn’t yet received either the trainer or participant manuals I had worked on all month, they had reviewed and pulled together much information from the national workshop.
So 21 teachers will gather at YWCA in Kisumu and I will present less than a third of the material. More on all this later..
~
Someone I know would say that when I am not blogging, that means I am actually living. But is this true? I feel like I have barely written a word this last two weeks, but I am not sure that I have lived more fully than when I do blog. The sad thing is Lamu has evaporated from me. The extent of what I managed to capture is below:
May 6, 2007
I am back in Nairobi. Well Kassarani. My home away from home. Lamu was wonderful. I had an undescribably nice time, but attempt to portray it I will.
Lamu was as hot as a mother-fucker. Now in my family using the f-word is the equivalent of throwing down a gauntlet but the girls and I tried out some other ‘hot as..’ phrases and they just didn’t measure up. “Hot like a volcano” “Hot as hell” (exceedingly creative huh?) “Hot as a blazing inferno” “Hotter than a Kenyan man playing soccer in the noon sun” “Chilli spicy tuna hot” (I do like this one) “So hot the devil himself would need a cold beer” (from the book Sarah’s reading at the moment). But no. None of these really describe how hot we were. All the time. Anyway.. We were in a constant state of sweatiness. When searching for accommodation, I looked at my friend and the only area of her t-shirt not wet was her breasts. Two dry triangles. Attractive no?
The days and nights whizzed by, and that wonderful feeling that there was no where else I would rather be settled on me. This was a sensation that visited me a lot last summer (especially in the Masai Mara), and it’s a place from which laughter flows easily.
~
Well. That journal entry was discontinued due to a very good reason. Namely the idea of breakfast at the Java house in downtown Nairobi, and you see, Lamu gone, poof.
But I do want to add one thing. And maybe if I get into the swing, another.. On Friday we went out on a dhow. I can’t recall exactly where we went (maybe Manda beach and to the Takwa ruins) but although I hadn’t been too excited about the prospects of the day, I literally spent hours in the ocean, and the remainder of the time sitting on the boat with my legs trailing in the sea. It was heavenly. Dhows are basically crude wooden sailboats that come with a band of young and probably high males to drive the thing. Okay, that’s unfair, their mellowness and the aroma of weed may be completely unrelated.
After a blissful day, Tanya, Soetinah, myself and Moiz (Kenyan now residing in Florida) disembarked and considered our evening plans. I had two separate offers unrelated to the girls but seeing as it appeared all Friday nights in Lamu end up at the A.P. (which stands for what I wonder?) anyway, I decided that I would just see where the evening took me.
So it went something like this.. beers at our guest house, a bean and chapatti dinner on the water front, more beer at Petley’s, then onto the A.P. The A.P. is on the outskirts of Lamu on the edge of sand dune as best I can tell. There is a $1 cover charge and it appears that you are entering a building, but you aren’t really. It’s more like an old farm courtyard, or an internally verandahed (is that a word?) enclosure. So you are there in this outdoor/indoor space, with the full moon and stars above you completely trumping the effect of the tentatively suspended disco ball.
The ratio of men to women in this establishment is approximately 25:1. For a woman the key is to just pick a guy and dance with him. We had the advantage this night of being accompanied by Moiz, our favorite waiter, and his adorable friend Musini. Swahili men dance differently to Luor men. Both groups move like the ocean, but on the coast it’s a whole lot more lively than in Western, the waves are choppier. There's a lot more body surfing. ha. This was an extra-ordinarily fun time. Oh.. and I fit into a favorite skirt I haven’t worn since 2001 – hallelujah!
Thursday night was really nice too now that I consider it. Moiz, Tanya, Soetinah and I (Sarah was unwell during this time frame.. in fact everyone, save myself was sick at one point or the other from undiagnosed issues) went for pre-dinner drinks at Lamu House. This nearly became no-dinner drinks as we realized it was 10 pm and everywhere was closed. Moiz did a reconnaissance mission and came back the waiter and his cute friend from Hapa Hapa, who took our order and told us we needed to get to the restaurant in 20 minutes so they could close. In return, I convinced the bar tender at Lamu Palace to sell us beers to take away on the promise of my first born that I would return the bottles.
Dinner was unmemorable, but then afterwards Tanya, myself, waiter, friend and Moiz found ourselves on coconut beach trying to figure out riddles. And here I am back in high school. As I read this it seems like a big drinking night, but no, I think it included a total of 4 beers over 6 hours. Anyway I mention this beach because it is basically a man made area of white sand that was the result of some dredging between the island mainland and in the light of the full moon it was a positively bright place to be. As my highly spirited friend calls it “moon baking”.
On a less good note.. Unbeknownst to me, that night Moiz was also offered money if he would talk to me about sleeping with some old guy for $200. Despicable. I don’t know which I dislike more, the fact that he suggested it, or the fact that he made Moiz my pimp all of a sudden. And having fully recovered from the general disgust I can only add that it has been 8 ½ years since I was offered money for sex and at least I have apparently gone up in value.
~
Alright, to sleep. I have to go to the hospital tomorrow and see little ones. Thank you thank you for all your packages. The post office is like a laundry chute into my world. Of course, dirty garments would arrive faster than anything Kenyan post can deal with, but dumped into my lap came books and toys and toothbrushes and a beautiful new hat and I am so so very grateful. With much love. B xx
It is after midnight and I am not sure why I am awake. That is.. I have been asleep, albeit not for long. When I first awoke I just assumed that it was 3 am ish. Last night I was awake at this hour and I had the crack pot notion that maybe someone in a different time zone was thinking about me very hard (Ha!). I wished they wouldn’t do that while I am trying to sleep. I always think that there must be a reason I have fallen out of dream-state, and the latest and greatest conclusion probably comes directly from my current reading material. But it’s not 3, it’s 1:06 and here I am.
I returned to work to sad news. During break, my colleague’s 9 year old daughter was raped on the way to market by ‘a big man’. He is worried about the fact she has to be on prophalactic anti-retroviral medication and is unsure of their effect on her. I tried to be reassuring (about the drugs, not the event). I am glad that this horrible thing isn’t being treated like a big secret. There is guilt assumed in things no one talks about.
Kisumu’s the first district to do their teacher training. It starts Wednesday and I was impressed to return and see the preparation Silas and Caro had already done. Given they hadn’t yet received either the trainer or participant manuals I had worked on all month, they had reviewed and pulled together much information from the national workshop.
So 21 teachers will gather at YWCA in Kisumu and I will present less than a third of the material. More on all this later..
~
Someone I know would say that when I am not blogging, that means I am actually living. But is this true? I feel like I have barely written a word this last two weeks, but I am not sure that I have lived more fully than when I do blog. The sad thing is Lamu has evaporated from me. The extent of what I managed to capture is below:
May 6, 2007
I am back in Nairobi. Well Kassarani. My home away from home. Lamu was wonderful. I had an undescribably nice time, but attempt to portray it I will.
Lamu was as hot as a mother-fucker. Now in my family using the f-word is the equivalent of throwing down a gauntlet but the girls and I tried out some other ‘hot as..’ phrases and they just didn’t measure up. “Hot like a volcano” “Hot as hell” (exceedingly creative huh?) “Hot as a blazing inferno” “Hotter than a Kenyan man playing soccer in the noon sun” “Chilli spicy tuna hot” (I do like this one) “So hot the devil himself would need a cold beer” (from the book Sarah’s reading at the moment). But no. None of these really describe how hot we were. All the time. Anyway.. We were in a constant state of sweatiness. When searching for accommodation, I looked at my friend and the only area of her t-shirt not wet was her breasts. Two dry triangles. Attractive no?
The days and nights whizzed by, and that wonderful feeling that there was no where else I would rather be settled on me. This was a sensation that visited me a lot last summer (especially in the Masai Mara), and it’s a place from which laughter flows easily.
~
Well. That journal entry was discontinued due to a very good reason. Namely the idea of breakfast at the Java house in downtown Nairobi, and you see, Lamu gone, poof.
But I do want to add one thing. And maybe if I get into the swing, another.. On Friday we went out on a dhow. I can’t recall exactly where we went (maybe Manda beach and to the Takwa ruins) but although I hadn’t been too excited about the prospects of the day, I literally spent hours in the ocean, and the remainder of the time sitting on the boat with my legs trailing in the sea. It was heavenly. Dhows are basically crude wooden sailboats that come with a band of young and probably high males to drive the thing. Okay, that’s unfair, their mellowness and the aroma of weed may be completely unrelated.
After a blissful day, Tanya, Soetinah, myself and Moiz (Kenyan now residing in Florida) disembarked and considered our evening plans. I had two separate offers unrelated to the girls but seeing as it appeared all Friday nights in Lamu end up at the A.P. (which stands for what I wonder?) anyway, I decided that I would just see where the evening took me.
So it went something like this.. beers at our guest house, a bean and chapatti dinner on the water front, more beer at Petley’s, then onto the A.P. The A.P. is on the outskirts of Lamu on the edge of sand dune as best I can tell. There is a $1 cover charge and it appears that you are entering a building, but you aren’t really. It’s more like an old farm courtyard, or an internally verandahed (is that a word?) enclosure. So you are there in this outdoor/indoor space, with the full moon and stars above you completely trumping the effect of the tentatively suspended disco ball.
The ratio of men to women in this establishment is approximately 25:1. For a woman the key is to just pick a guy and dance with him. We had the advantage this night of being accompanied by Moiz, our favorite waiter, and his adorable friend Musini. Swahili men dance differently to Luor men. Both groups move like the ocean, but on the coast it’s a whole lot more lively than in Western, the waves are choppier. There's a lot more body surfing. ha. This was an extra-ordinarily fun time. Oh.. and I fit into a favorite skirt I haven’t worn since 2001 – hallelujah!
Thursday night was really nice too now that I consider it. Moiz, Tanya, Soetinah and I (Sarah was unwell during this time frame.. in fact everyone, save myself was sick at one point or the other from undiagnosed issues) went for pre-dinner drinks at Lamu House. This nearly became no-dinner drinks as we realized it was 10 pm and everywhere was closed. Moiz did a reconnaissance mission and came back the waiter and his cute friend from Hapa Hapa, who took our order and told us we needed to get to the restaurant in 20 minutes so they could close. In return, I convinced the bar tender at Lamu Palace to sell us beers to take away on the promise of my first born that I would return the bottles.
Dinner was unmemorable, but then afterwards Tanya, myself, waiter, friend and Moiz found ourselves on coconut beach trying to figure out riddles. And here I am back in high school. As I read this it seems like a big drinking night, but no, I think it included a total of 4 beers over 6 hours. Anyway I mention this beach because it is basically a man made area of white sand that was the result of some dredging between the island mainland and in the light of the full moon it was a positively bright place to be. As my highly spirited friend calls it “moon baking”.
On a less good note.. Unbeknownst to me, that night Moiz was also offered money if he would talk to me about sleeping with some old guy for $200. Despicable. I don’t know which I dislike more, the fact that he suggested it, or the fact that he made Moiz my pimp all of a sudden. And having fully recovered from the general disgust I can only add that it has been 8 ½ years since I was offered money for sex and at least I have apparently gone up in value.
~
Alright, to sleep. I have to go to the hospital tomorrow and see little ones. Thank you thank you for all your packages. The post office is like a laundry chute into my world. Of course, dirty garments would arrive faster than anything Kenyan post can deal with, but dumped into my lap came books and toys and toothbrushes and a beautiful new hat and I am so so very grateful. With much love. B xx
Wednesday, May 02, 2007
Many Months Ago:
“Vacation time and the relative lack of it available to Americans compared to others around the world, was an oft discussed topic of conversation in my life. A soap box I climbed up onto frequently, sometimes in conjunction with the happiness of people in general, sometimes when berating corporations for the way they have convinced us that a 40 hour work week is a minimum requirement and holidays only for the very slovenly. Something I hadn’t pondered however was that while I take an excess of days compared to most of my peers, the quantity of my travel sometimes overtook the general quality.
On the way to an airport recently I realized much to my shock that my passport was exactly two years old to the day and completely full. This, in turn made me reflect on the excessive amounts of travel I had pursued, my compulsion to constantly keep moving, and the further realization that I hadn’t enjoyed all that much of it. Actually.. though I have always known this.. I have barely recognized that my perfect holiday is one where I lay on the beach and occasionally surface from my novel to submerge my body in the ocean. I also rise from the towel at the thought of fresh seafood and a crisp glass of wine at a table by the water. Yet, in my relationship where we flew as often as some might buy groceries we rarely traveled like that.
Going beyond the passport back to days of dating and cohabiting.. though the trips were numerous, there were but perhaps five that contained these idyllic properties. In St. Lucia we complained of boredom but cherished the creativity that arises from such a lack of schedule. In New Zealand we were enchanted by scallops and candles on a picnic table in a three boat harbor. Puerto Rico, while only a weekend away was momentous in the conversation, drinks and utter bliss it provided. So why didn’t we do more of what we loved?
I write because I am struck by this. I formulate the sentences because I hope to put this into consideration as I arrange future travel. Maybe seeing all the things I think I should see isn’t the way forward. When really all I want is a little beach time with people I adore.
VSO has certain travel restrictions. You aren’t forbidden to travel to these areas or on these routes, they are mainly a firm recommendation. The punch line being the story of a volunteer who took that bus from Rwanda to Burundi, and was duely shot along with the rest of the passengers enroute. And this gets me to the question dad has been asking all along. What am I doing here? Why am I so far from everyone I love? And though I don’t feel compelled to have an answer to justify my choices, I do wonder.. maybe in the future, maybe when this adventure is over, will I still feel the need to globe trot, or will I be content to enjoy holidays just as I like them, where I might not see as much, but I know I will return refreshed and rejuvenated.
I have 6 weeks up my sleeve for 2007. And I am rethinking the way I want to spend the time. Initially I had a list of countries to conquer and sights to see, but the vacation I am looking forward to the most is Zanzibar Island. Maybe I am a need to exercise the inner beach bunny.”
May 1, 2007
I am in Lamu. Lamu* is an old Swahili island on the Kenyan coast just south of Sudan I think. There are no cars but one arse-load (I will allow ass-load) of donkeys. There are also perhaps two arse-loads of flies (per establishment). People come for the beach, the pace. The glorious thing about Lamu is there is absolutely nothing to do here. Nothing. Because we are off-off season, many more popular establishments are closed. Lamu is entirely Muslim, or so I believe and beers are not so easy to come by leaving our choices for entertainment as 1. read in bed, 2. read on beach. Hooray. I can’t actually remember the last time when I checked into one same hotel for five consecutive nights.
We are staying at Wildebeest guest house I think, and our apartment is more like a warren of up and down rooms which the breeze whispers through. Flowers and foliage wrap themselves around things to serve as screens. Privacy is dubious at best. Soetinah and I share a room on the roof, and Sarah and Tanya are in what might be best described as the attic. There really are no doors, but then there really are few walls. From my netted bed (and you know how I feel about this sacred place on the whole) I can see the ocean and the sky and three satellite dishes. Ha. We have been joined by the moon in its full glory, so that at night, it never gets quite dark. Delightfully, it is safe to walk around at any hour. Or so we’re told.
I am so glad to be back in Kenya. By last Saturday morning I was beginning to feel like I never left the States. I am however trying to recuperate from non-digestive related issues acquired in Chicago (that I should have taken care of properly in London) and the inability to sleep between the hours of 1 and 5 am. I am also covered in bites. From bed companions, mostly small and winged.. but strangely quiet (why do mosquitos not buzz here?).
So.. what am I reading? I finished David Mitchell’s “Black Swan Green” which I enjoyed more than his “Ghost Written.” It’s an interesting story, and I especially like his writing. I am now reading Elizabeth Gilbert’s “Eat, Pray, Love” (thank you Jamie) and enjoying it immensely. One of my best few hours in Chicago was spent in a book store with Bev, perusing the shelves for nothing in particular armed only with a friend’s wish list.. which took me in some new directions. I found Anna Gavalda’s latest novel… well most recently translated book and am so excited to get into Lionel Shriver’s new one too. Paulo Coehlo has another out and then there was some books I just had to buy for the picture on the cover (e.g. Julia’s Chocolates with the wedding dress hanging in the tree).
So. There has been more discussion about this whole blogging malarkey. But it can wait.. in fact this week everything can wait. B xx
*It occurs to me that rather than spout nonsense I could look at a guide book and find out something about where I am staying before writing my entries. I’m not going to do that.
“Vacation time and the relative lack of it available to Americans compared to others around the world, was an oft discussed topic of conversation in my life. A soap box I climbed up onto frequently, sometimes in conjunction with the happiness of people in general, sometimes when berating corporations for the way they have convinced us that a 40 hour work week is a minimum requirement and holidays only for the very slovenly. Something I hadn’t pondered however was that while I take an excess of days compared to most of my peers, the quantity of my travel sometimes overtook the general quality.
On the way to an airport recently I realized much to my shock that my passport was exactly two years old to the day and completely full. This, in turn made me reflect on the excessive amounts of travel I had pursued, my compulsion to constantly keep moving, and the further realization that I hadn’t enjoyed all that much of it. Actually.. though I have always known this.. I have barely recognized that my perfect holiday is one where I lay on the beach and occasionally surface from my novel to submerge my body in the ocean. I also rise from the towel at the thought of fresh seafood and a crisp glass of wine at a table by the water. Yet, in my relationship where we flew as often as some might buy groceries we rarely traveled like that.
Going beyond the passport back to days of dating and cohabiting.. though the trips were numerous, there were but perhaps five that contained these idyllic properties. In St. Lucia we complained of boredom but cherished the creativity that arises from such a lack of schedule. In New Zealand we were enchanted by scallops and candles on a picnic table in a three boat harbor. Puerto Rico, while only a weekend away was momentous in the conversation, drinks and utter bliss it provided. So why didn’t we do more of what we loved?
I write because I am struck by this. I formulate the sentences because I hope to put this into consideration as I arrange future travel. Maybe seeing all the things I think I should see isn’t the way forward. When really all I want is a little beach time with people I adore.
VSO has certain travel restrictions. You aren’t forbidden to travel to these areas or on these routes, they are mainly a firm recommendation. The punch line being the story of a volunteer who took that bus from Rwanda to Burundi, and was duely shot along with the rest of the passengers enroute. And this gets me to the question dad has been asking all along. What am I doing here? Why am I so far from everyone I love? And though I don’t feel compelled to have an answer to justify my choices, I do wonder.. maybe in the future, maybe when this adventure is over, will I still feel the need to globe trot, or will I be content to enjoy holidays just as I like them, where I might not see as much, but I know I will return refreshed and rejuvenated.
I have 6 weeks up my sleeve for 2007. And I am rethinking the way I want to spend the time. Initially I had a list of countries to conquer and sights to see, but the vacation I am looking forward to the most is Zanzibar Island. Maybe I am a need to exercise the inner beach bunny.”
May 1, 2007
I am in Lamu. Lamu* is an old Swahili island on the Kenyan coast just south of Sudan I think. There are no cars but one arse-load (I will allow ass-load) of donkeys. There are also perhaps two arse-loads of flies (per establishment). People come for the beach, the pace. The glorious thing about Lamu is there is absolutely nothing to do here. Nothing. Because we are off-off season, many more popular establishments are closed. Lamu is entirely Muslim, or so I believe and beers are not so easy to come by leaving our choices for entertainment as 1. read in bed, 2. read on beach. Hooray. I can’t actually remember the last time when I checked into one same hotel for five consecutive nights.
We are staying at Wildebeest guest house I think, and our apartment is more like a warren of up and down rooms which the breeze whispers through. Flowers and foliage wrap themselves around things to serve as screens. Privacy is dubious at best. Soetinah and I share a room on the roof, and Sarah and Tanya are in what might be best described as the attic. There really are no doors, but then there really are few walls. From my netted bed (and you know how I feel about this sacred place on the whole) I can see the ocean and the sky and three satellite dishes. Ha. We have been joined by the moon in its full glory, so that at night, it never gets quite dark. Delightfully, it is safe to walk around at any hour. Or so we’re told.
I am so glad to be back in Kenya. By last Saturday morning I was beginning to feel like I never left the States. I am however trying to recuperate from non-digestive related issues acquired in Chicago (that I should have taken care of properly in London) and the inability to sleep between the hours of 1 and 5 am. I am also covered in bites. From bed companions, mostly small and winged.. but strangely quiet (why do mosquitos not buzz here?).
So.. what am I reading? I finished David Mitchell’s “Black Swan Green” which I enjoyed more than his “Ghost Written.” It’s an interesting story, and I especially like his writing. I am now reading Elizabeth Gilbert’s “Eat, Pray, Love” (thank you Jamie) and enjoying it immensely. One of my best few hours in Chicago was spent in a book store with Bev, perusing the shelves for nothing in particular armed only with a friend’s wish list.. which took me in some new directions. I found Anna Gavalda’s latest novel… well most recently translated book and am so excited to get into Lionel Shriver’s new one too. Paulo Coehlo has another out and then there was some books I just had to buy for the picture on the cover (e.g. Julia’s Chocolates with the wedding dress hanging in the tree).
So. There has been more discussion about this whole blogging malarkey. But it can wait.. in fact this week everything can wait. B xx
*It occurs to me that rather than spout nonsense I could look at a guide book and find out something about where I am staying before writing my entries. I’m not going to do that.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)