Just got back from Mombasa, where two other volunteers (Amy and Lauren from Canada) and I spent the weekend lying on the beach under the hot tropical sun. The beach was so beautiful; white sand, gorgeous blue sky, and clear blue water. For around $7 per person, we were able to ride a camel and enjoy an hour-long massage. We also had dinner in a cave-like restaurant called Ali Barbour's, where the waiter flambeed mango at our table. Photos to be uploaded later.
I've been guilty of not updating my blog regularly. I will blog more about the orphanage in the next few days and hopefully also upload some pictures.
Monday, August 30, 2010
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Faraja Kuku Project!
Marc (a previous volunteer) and I are helping the orphanage raise money to expand their chicken farm. Currently, the chicken farm provides the only source of income for the orphanage. The eggs are sold locally, and profits are used to meet some of the basic needs like food and water. By increasing the number of chickens in the farm, we hope the farm would eventually be able to generate enough income to pay for other things like rent and school fees. The ultimate goal is to move away from over-dependence on charity and to create a financially self-sufficient orphanage.
For more information on how you can help, please visit http://farajaproject.blogspot.com/
Thanks in advance!
For more information on how you can help, please visit http://farajaproject.blogspot.com/
Thanks in advance!
Monday, August 23, 2010
More About Faraja
There is no running water at Faraja. Clutching a 2-liter plastic bottle in each hand, the children – the five year-olds included – shuttle back and forth daily between the orphanage and a water pump some ten minutes away uphill behind the orphanage. They make multiple trips to fetch the 200 liters of water that the orphanage uses everyday.
Neither is there electricity. The children, according to Moraa, would normally have an early dinner before it gets too dark to see. Rarely can the orphanage afford to light lanterns or candles inside the house, so the children often cannot study at night.
Congestion is a problem – the boys and girls live in two separate bedrooms, with more than ten kids to each room. One sick child is all it'd take to initiate a mini-epidemic. There is no quiet study space. No wardrobe where they could keep their clothes organized. No bookshelf for their books. Everything was haphazardly stuffed into several rice sacks.
Moraa also worries constantly about eviction, which I believe has happened before when they were in Kibera and couldn’t afford to pay rent.
Despite these challenges, not once has the orphanage pressured the volunteers for money. Moraa and Omari appreciate the presence of volunteers for the simple joy it brings to the orphanage. Visitors, Moraa says, “donate their time” to make the children, most of whom have suffered some form of abuse or abandonment in their lives, feel special and loved.
Nevertheless, volunteers have been donating somewhat generously to the orphanage. An American volunteer, Marc, paid for water to be delivered twice weekly to the orphanage while he was here for a month. He also bought a wheelbarrow (to fetch water) and two weeks’ worth of beans for the orphanage just before he left. Others brought toys for the kids on their last day at the orphanage.
The presence of foreign volunteers, moreover, seems to have stirred the local conscience. Last week, one Kenyan volunteer remarked to me, “If people come all the way from America to care for these children, how can we who live here not do anything to help?” A local woman, Catherine, volunteers at the orphanage regularly.
Most amazingly, these kids never have to be told what to do. They are not your average kids. They help Moraa with the chores and keep the orphanage running – fetching the water, doing the dishes, washing the laundry, cooking the meals, feeding the chickens etc. These kids, inured to poverty and hardship, have learned to be independent and resourceful. They understand the value of hard work, of sharing, the importance of looking out for each other. A previous volunteer, Gloria, calls them the “good” kids.
I will upload pictures soon, if internet speed willing.
Neither is there electricity. The children, according to Moraa, would normally have an early dinner before it gets too dark to see. Rarely can the orphanage afford to light lanterns or candles inside the house, so the children often cannot study at night.
Congestion is a problem – the boys and girls live in two separate bedrooms, with more than ten kids to each room. One sick child is all it'd take to initiate a mini-epidemic. There is no quiet study space. No wardrobe where they could keep their clothes organized. No bookshelf for their books. Everything was haphazardly stuffed into several rice sacks.
Moraa also worries constantly about eviction, which I believe has happened before when they were in Kibera and couldn’t afford to pay rent.
Despite these challenges, not once has the orphanage pressured the volunteers for money. Moraa and Omari appreciate the presence of volunteers for the simple joy it brings to the orphanage. Visitors, Moraa says, “donate their time” to make the children, most of whom have suffered some form of abuse or abandonment in their lives, feel special and loved.
Nevertheless, volunteers have been donating somewhat generously to the orphanage. An American volunteer, Marc, paid for water to be delivered twice weekly to the orphanage while he was here for a month. He also bought a wheelbarrow (to fetch water) and two weeks’ worth of beans for the orphanage just before he left. Others brought toys for the kids on their last day at the orphanage.
The presence of foreign volunteers, moreover, seems to have stirred the local conscience. Last week, one Kenyan volunteer remarked to me, “If people come all the way from America to care for these children, how can we who live here not do anything to help?” A local woman, Catherine, volunteers at the orphanage regularly.
Most amazingly, these kids never have to be told what to do. They are not your average kids. They help Moraa with the chores and keep the orphanage running – fetching the water, doing the dishes, washing the laundry, cooking the meals, feeding the chickens etc. These kids, inured to poverty and hardship, have learned to be independent and resourceful. They understand the value of hard work, of sharing, the importance of looking out for each other. A previous volunteer, Gloria, calls them the “good” kids.
I will upload pictures soon, if internet speed willing.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Lions and Wildebeests
Went on a 3-day safari this past weekend at the Maasai Mara Game Reserve (around 4 hours’ drive from Nairobi) with a couple of other volunteers.
Here are some photos/highlights from my trip:
A safari van has a detachable roof so that you can stick your head out to take pictures.
A herd of African elephants
Maasai giraffes
Lions!
Zebras, my least favorite. They do nothing but eat all day long, their heads bowed low in the mud, perpetually stuffing their faces with grass.
Impalas. According to our driver Jimmy, each male impala can have up to 30 wives! Can you spot the male impala in the picture (it's the one with horns)? What a player.
In the distance, miniature wildebeests dot the savannah landscape. Our visit coincided with the annual wildebeest migration, so these somewhat plain-looking creatures, which gallop with an awkward strut, were everywhere.
Sausage(fest) tree. I later learnt from a Maasai that the “sausages” are fermented with honey and water to make beer. Interesting.
Sunset over the Mara. Gorgeous.
Sunrise over the Mara.
The ride, I must say, was extremely uncomfortable for one susceptible to spells of motion sickness. All day long our vehicle staggered across a rocky, sandy terrain, swaying left and right to dodge the countless potholes. The ride was so bumpy, I could feel my organs shifting inside my body after a while. Dust mercilessly stung my eyes. We (five of us volunteers) were cooped up in the van all day long, the tedium relieved only by the occasional animal sightings.
Our tents. Complete with hot showers, beds, and a toilet.
We also visited a Maasai village on our second day in the late afternoon.
Greeted with a traditional Maasai dance upon arrival. Male visitors were invited to dance along.
Traditional Maasai housing is constructed mostly out of cow dung, with a thatched roof.
The interior. Pitch black and suffocatingly smoky.
Making fire by friction.
The Maasais drink cow blood for breakfast. The animal is not killed; its vein is pierced with an arrow at close range, and when enough blood has been collected, the wound is sealed and the cow remains alive.
The Maasai in this picture offered us a sip of the sickly-looking red liquid, at which point we hastily backed off.
Maasai women display their colorful crafts at the Maasai Market
The highlight of my visit was probably buying a lion’s tooth necklace (at a very good price) off a Maasai gentleman. He claimed the canine came from a lion he killed years ago while undergoing his rite of passage as a young Maasai warrior.
An elusive purchase, my favorite thus far in Kenya.
P.S. Fell sick right after safari, and freaked out majorly thinking I caught malaria. Went to the clinic yesterday. Thankfully, no malaria, only the common cold.
Here are some photos/highlights from my trip:
A safari van has a detachable roof so that you can stick your head out to take pictures.
A herd of African elephants
Maasai giraffes
Lions!
Zebras, my least favorite. They do nothing but eat all day long, their heads bowed low in the mud, perpetually stuffing their faces with grass.
Impalas. According to our driver Jimmy, each male impala can have up to 30 wives! Can you spot the male impala in the picture (it's the one with horns)? What a player.
In the distance, miniature wildebeests dot the savannah landscape. Our visit coincided with the annual wildebeest migration, so these somewhat plain-looking creatures, which gallop with an awkward strut, were everywhere.
Sausage(fest) tree. I later learnt from a Maasai that the “sausages” are fermented with honey and water to make beer. Interesting.
Sunset over the Mara. Gorgeous.
Sunrise over the Mara.
The ride, I must say, was extremely uncomfortable for one susceptible to spells of motion sickness. All day long our vehicle staggered across a rocky, sandy terrain, swaying left and right to dodge the countless potholes. The ride was so bumpy, I could feel my organs shifting inside my body after a while. Dust mercilessly stung my eyes. We (five of us volunteers) were cooped up in the van all day long, the tedium relieved only by the occasional animal sightings.
Our tents. Complete with hot showers, beds, and a toilet.
We also visited a Maasai village on our second day in the late afternoon.
Greeted with a traditional Maasai dance upon arrival. Male visitors were invited to dance along.
Traditional Maasai housing is constructed mostly out of cow dung, with a thatched roof.
The interior. Pitch black and suffocatingly smoky.
Making fire by friction.
The Maasais drink cow blood for breakfast. The animal is not killed; its vein is pierced with an arrow at close range, and when enough blood has been collected, the wound is sealed and the cow remains alive.
The Maasai in this picture offered us a sip of the sickly-looking red liquid, at which point we hastily backed off.
Maasai women display their colorful crafts at the Maasai Market
The highlight of my visit was probably buying a lion’s tooth necklace (at a very good price) off a Maasai gentleman. He claimed the canine came from a lion he killed years ago while undergoing his rite of passage as a young Maasai warrior.
An elusive purchase, my favorite thus far in Kenya.
P.S. Fell sick right after safari, and freaked out majorly thinking I caught malaria. Went to the clinic yesterday. Thankfully, no malaria, only the common cold.
Faraja Children's Home: The Orphanage on the Hill
I have been volunteering at Faraja (which means “comfort” in Swahili) Children’s Home for more than a week now.
The story of the orphanage began in 2006 in a one-room shack in Kibera, the largest slum in East Africa today. One day, Moraa’s youngest son, Emmanuel, brought home two playmates, siblings Mwadime and Mogoi, who eventually grew so attached to the family that they would follow Emmanuel home in the evening and refuse to leave.
Later, Moraa found out they were orphans – HIV-positive - whose parents had succumbed to AIDS. They were living with relatives who abused them. Touched by the plight of these two children, Moraa – herself a struggling 46-year old single mother of three children – decided to take them in.
As word got around in the slum that a mother was taking in unwanted children, people started dropping off their children at Moraa’s shack – permanently. Several children, whose parents were killed during the 2007 post-election violence in Kibera, also came to Moraa for help. In spite of her limited resources, she did not have the heart to turn them away.
Today, the Faraja Children’s Home, registered as a Community-Based Organization just the beginning of this year, provides a safe haven for 34 orphans and vulnerable children (OVCs), ranging from 2 – 13 years of age. 7 of them are HIV-positive.
The children’s stories are nothing short of tragic. One day, Moraa noticed one of the girls urinating blood. She told Moraa how years ago, a man would “touch” her every time she went to fetch water. Today, at a tender age of 10, this little girl not only suffers from vaginal injuries but also is HIV-positive.
Others were orphaned by HIV/AIDS, some abandoned by their parents/relatives, or rescued from abusive homes. One child’s parents – who made a living as thieves in the Kibera slum – were hacked to death by an angry mob.
Moraa, a humble, soft-spoken woman, has three children of her own. The eldest, 23 year-old Omari, is a final year civil engineering student at a local university who helps out around the orphanage during summer vacation. A budding social entrepreneur, Omari recently built a chicken farm behind the orphanage in order to generate income for the orphanage (more details later). Moraa’s younger children, Emmanuel (11?) and Esther (9?), treat the orphans as their own siblings. “Ma,” meaning “mother,” is what all the children at the orphanage call Moraa.
“This is when I feel happiest – when I see my children eating,” she beamed proudly a few days ago. Amazing what a difference one woman’s grace and compassion can make in the lives of these children.
The story of the orphanage began in 2006 in a one-room shack in Kibera, the largest slum in East Africa today. One day, Moraa’s youngest son, Emmanuel, brought home two playmates, siblings Mwadime and Mogoi, who eventually grew so attached to the family that they would follow Emmanuel home in the evening and refuse to leave.
Later, Moraa found out they were orphans – HIV-positive - whose parents had succumbed to AIDS. They were living with relatives who abused them. Touched by the plight of these two children, Moraa – herself a struggling 46-year old single mother of three children – decided to take them in.
As word got around in the slum that a mother was taking in unwanted children, people started dropping off their children at Moraa’s shack – permanently. Several children, whose parents were killed during the 2007 post-election violence in Kibera, also came to Moraa for help. In spite of her limited resources, she did not have the heart to turn them away.
Today, the Faraja Children’s Home, registered as a Community-Based Organization just the beginning of this year, provides a safe haven for 34 orphans and vulnerable children (OVCs), ranging from 2 – 13 years of age. 7 of them are HIV-positive.
The children’s stories are nothing short of tragic. One day, Moraa noticed one of the girls urinating blood. She told Moraa how years ago, a man would “touch” her every time she went to fetch water. Today, at a tender age of 10, this little girl not only suffers from vaginal injuries but also is HIV-positive.
Others were orphaned by HIV/AIDS, some abandoned by their parents/relatives, or rescued from abusive homes. One child’s parents – who made a living as thieves in the Kibera slum – were hacked to death by an angry mob.
Moraa, a humble, soft-spoken woman, has three children of her own. The eldest, 23 year-old Omari, is a final year civil engineering student at a local university who helps out around the orphanage during summer vacation. A budding social entrepreneur, Omari recently built a chicken farm behind the orphanage in order to generate income for the orphanage (more details later). Moraa’s younger children, Emmanuel (11?) and Esther (9?), treat the orphans as their own siblings. “Ma,” meaning “mother,” is what all the children at the orphanage call Moraa.
“This is when I feel happiest – when I see my children eating,” she beamed proudly a few days ago. Amazing what a difference one woman’s grace and compassion can make in the lives of these children.
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Random
Taking a shower here is like rubbing ice cubes all over your body (*shivers*). FML.
The lower left ring of my braces is broken. I've been applying inordinate amounts of wax to it to keep the metal protrusion from poking a hole through my left cheek. 5 weeks to my next dental appointment. FML.
Found a nearby restaurant where I could indulge in my daily serving of meat (our hostel has been serving mostly vegetarian meals). Beef stew + fried eggs for USD2. MLIBlessed.
I don't like ugali (traditional maize dish, a Kenyan staple). MLIChoosy
Fresh fruit juice for USD0.50. MLIG.
My laptop (macbook pro) costs enough to buy fifteen cows to start a milk farm.
Safari this weekend. MLIG.
(Sorry for wasting your time)
The lower left ring of my braces is broken. I've been applying inordinate amounts of wax to it to keep the metal protrusion from poking a hole through my left cheek. 5 weeks to my next dental appointment. FML.
Found a nearby restaurant where I could indulge in my daily serving of meat (our hostel has been serving mostly vegetarian meals). Beef stew + fried eggs for USD2. MLIBlessed.
I don't like ugali (traditional maize dish, a Kenyan staple). MLIChoosy
Fresh fruit juice for USD0.50. MLIG.
My laptop (macbook pro) costs enough to buy fifteen cows to start a milk farm.
Safari this weekend. MLIG.
(Sorry for wasting your time)
Sunday, August 8, 2010
Exploitative Hospitality?
How do you tell if people are being nice to you out of genuine hospitality or because they are expecting something in return? Do these motivations blur into each other, so there is really no black and white?
A few days ago, the outreach team was at a supermarket to procure bags of maize flour as gifts for the homes we were going to visit. When it came time to pay, Nicholas (the director of Providence VCT) turned to me and Amy and gestured towards the cashier. I was taken aback at his directness (but did not show it of course). Though we readily paid for the gifts, which weren't expensive (1200 KSH ~ USD 15), we nevertheless felt uncomfortable because we were simply put on the spot (a no-no in the west). Moreover, no one thanked us, as if it was something expected of us anyway.
That wasn't the last time they'd be asking us for money. A day later, we received a letter asking for 40 000 shillings (ridiculous!) to sponsor a HIV/AIDS walk.
After talking to Naomi, our host mother, I was surprised to find out that Kinyua had not been taking us to the project assigned to us by the head office. We were supposed to be working for a different organization, not Providence VCT. Moreover, Naomi told us Kinyua had not attended the meeting in which coordinators were asked not to solicit donations from volunteers. What's been happening to us, Naomi called it "exploitation." She added that she suspected something fishy was going on from the start because "they" were being so nice to us.
In my view, the people we've been been working with probably have good intentions, and are not really to blame. Their mindset reflects a larger cultural tendency to automatically assume that every mzungu is loaded. In most Kenyans' eyes, we are walking ATM machines, literally.
Lol, if only they knew how many credit cards I have. They are barking up the wrong tree.
Truth be told, we haven't been very helpful thus far except to serve as "trophy visitors." During home visits, we would sit quietly in a corner while Veronicah and Judith conversed to the client in Swahili. We were told our presence was good enough and "highly appreciated," and that we'd learn by "observing." In retrospect, I wonder if the main point of these home visits was really to bombard/overwhelm us with scenes of poverty. What I call tugging at the heartstrings to loosen the purse strings. After all, we aren't certified to do HIV testing. Neither are we trained to provide counseling. How else to avail of us if not as financial support?
Yesterday, I made it clear to Kinyua that I wasn't here to throw money at a problem (yo dude, I really don't have money), but that I'd be happy to look at his project proposals and locate sources of funding for him.
In any case, I am going to work in the orphanage next week, so hopefully, I can put all this behind me for the rest of my time here in Kenya.
A few days ago, the outreach team was at a supermarket to procure bags of maize flour as gifts for the homes we were going to visit. When it came time to pay, Nicholas (the director of Providence VCT) turned to me and Amy and gestured towards the cashier. I was taken aback at his directness (but did not show it of course). Though we readily paid for the gifts, which weren't expensive (1200 KSH ~ USD 15), we nevertheless felt uncomfortable because we were simply put on the spot (a no-no in the west). Moreover, no one thanked us, as if it was something expected of us anyway.
That wasn't the last time they'd be asking us for money. A day later, we received a letter asking for 40 000 shillings (ridiculous!) to sponsor a HIV/AIDS walk.
After talking to Naomi, our host mother, I was surprised to find out that Kinyua had not been taking us to the project assigned to us by the head office. We were supposed to be working for a different organization, not Providence VCT. Moreover, Naomi told us Kinyua had not attended the meeting in which coordinators were asked not to solicit donations from volunteers. What's been happening to us, Naomi called it "exploitation." She added that she suspected something fishy was going on from the start because "they" were being so nice to us.
In my view, the people we've been been working with probably have good intentions, and are not really to blame. Their mindset reflects a larger cultural tendency to automatically assume that every mzungu is loaded. In most Kenyans' eyes, we are walking ATM machines, literally.
Lol, if only they knew how many credit cards I have. They are barking up the wrong tree.
Truth be told, we haven't been very helpful thus far except to serve as "trophy visitors." During home visits, we would sit quietly in a corner while Veronicah and Judith conversed to the client in Swahili. We were told our presence was good enough and "highly appreciated," and that we'd learn by "observing." In retrospect, I wonder if the main point of these home visits was really to bombard/overwhelm us with scenes of poverty. What I call tugging at the heartstrings to loosen the purse strings. After all, we aren't certified to do HIV testing. Neither are we trained to provide counseling. How else to avail of us if not as financial support?
Yesterday, I made it clear to Kinyua that I wasn't here to throw money at a problem (yo dude, I really don't have money), but that I'd be happy to look at his project proposals and locate sources of funding for him.
In any case, I am going to work in the orphanage next week, so hopefully, I can put all this behind me for the rest of my time here in Kenya.
Saturday, August 7, 2010
Mathare, Stories, & Poverty
Today, Kinyua, Judith, me and a local lad visited several HIV patients in Mathare - a slum of about 3800 people - located a few minutes (by walking) behind my apartment building. Directly next to Mathare is a garbage dump. The stench from the trash was overwhelming. According to Kinyua, the slum residents make a living by sifting through the garbage and collecting and selling whatever could be recycled. During our visit, we could see a group of children playing, unsupervised, with odds and ends beside a foul-smelling stream that meanders through the dump.
Yesterday, Judith (the lady who has been accompanying us to the slums in the past few days) revealed that she was HIV positive. She discovered her status in 2006. She is currently on ARV Therapy with help from Doctors Without Borders. Raising four children (see Day 4) as a single parent (her husband passed away 5 years ago when their family couldn't afford to pay for his second-line TB medications), she earns a small income as a HIV/AIDS advocate for Kinyua's nonprofit. Her children do not know her status.
Then there are other stories, not just about the unilateral impact of HIV/AIDS, but also how this disease actually interacts/combines with personal tragedies to impoverish and devastate families. There is the grandmother left with the care of her two grandchildren after their mother died of AIDS. Many years ago, the same family fell victim to a property scam and were driven off their land. Then there is the Maasai mother - HIV positive - who ran away from her village with her daughters in order to protect them from being forced into marriage. We also met a single mother who supports her family of five by scavenging the garbage, and whose last born is now mentally handicapped after suffering from meningitis. HIV/AIDS also breaks families apart. Veronicah and Judith spoke to a couple estranged from each other because the wife kept her HIV status secret at the time of their marriage. The husband, angry and visibly resentful during out visit, is still in denial about his seropositive status, and now spends most of his time blaming her.
Poverty is the common denominator of all the homes and people we visited. In fact, according to Veronicah, it is poverty, not the lack of access to/availability of drugs, that kills. Kinyua, the Community Health Worker, says that the main issue is food. Malnutrition exacerbates the side effects of ARV therapy. Many, he says, have simply become discouraged from taking the drugs because they are too poor to afford a proper meal. What people really need, I think, are sustainable income-generating activities, whether it is starting a chicken farm, a commercial water tank, or a hostel to host mzungus. Anything but scavenging the garbage.
Yesterday, Judith (the lady who has been accompanying us to the slums in the past few days) revealed that she was HIV positive. She discovered her status in 2006. She is currently on ARV Therapy with help from Doctors Without Borders. Raising four children (see Day 4) as a single parent (her husband passed away 5 years ago when their family couldn't afford to pay for his second-line TB medications), she earns a small income as a HIV/AIDS advocate for Kinyua's nonprofit. Her children do not know her status.
Then there are other stories, not just about the unilateral impact of HIV/AIDS, but also how this disease actually interacts/combines with personal tragedies to impoverish and devastate families. There is the grandmother left with the care of her two grandchildren after their mother died of AIDS. Many years ago, the same family fell victim to a property scam and were driven off their land. Then there is the Maasai mother - HIV positive - who ran away from her village with her daughters in order to protect them from being forced into marriage. We also met a single mother who supports her family of five by scavenging the garbage, and whose last born is now mentally handicapped after suffering from meningitis. HIV/AIDS also breaks families apart. Veronicah and Judith spoke to a couple estranged from each other because the wife kept her HIV status secret at the time of their marriage. The husband, angry and visibly resentful during out visit, is still in denial about his seropositive status, and now spends most of his time blaming her.
Poverty is the common denominator of all the homes and people we visited. In fact, according to Veronicah, it is poverty, not the lack of access to/availability of drugs, that kills. Kinyua, the Community Health Worker, says that the main issue is food. Malnutrition exacerbates the side effects of ARV therapy. Many, he says, have simply become discouraged from taking the drugs because they are too poor to afford a proper meal. What people really need, I think, are sustainable income-generating activities, whether it is starting a chicken farm, a commercial water tank, or a hostel to host mzungus. Anything but scavenging the garbage.
Friday, August 6, 2010
Day 6, Thursday, 5/8
Today, Amy and I visited Kambekisii, a slum of around 500 people (according to a resident, though there seemed to be way fewer people during our visit) located 15 minutes from Ngong/Karen road, together with Susan, Veronicah, and Rachel from Providence VCT in order to hold an "empowerment" session.
Kambekisii is situated directly next to a wealthy suburb, a somewhat poignant juxtaposition. Kambekisii's cluster of flimsy-looking, corrugated-iron shacks provides a stark contrast to the modern, western-style brick buildings (complete with tiled roofs and state-of-the-art water tanks, a luxury in Kenya) located literally just a few meters away. These two worlds are thinly separated from each other by a stone wall. Next to this wall is a ditch that drains away the waste water from the luxury homes. The slum residents, however, call it a "river" and do all their laundry there.
During the outreach, we were housed in a little wooden shack, where Amy and I gave a presentation on the basic facts of ARV Therapy in English (which Rachel helped translate into Swahili) to a small group of around 20 people. After that, we went around the slum distributing free brochures on HIV testing and prevention.
What I found interesting/puzzling was that though the staff demonstrated how to use a diaphragm (during which the women and girls giggled hysterically), there was, however, no instruction on the proper way to use a condom (there were men present in the audience). In fact, during her presentation, Rachel encouraged "total abstinence" before marriage, and told the villagers that she wouldn't even encourage the use of condoms. Though I could understand that technically, "total abstinence" is the safest way to go, I wonder how practical her recommendation is for these slum-dwellers (how do you teach abstinence to girls who have to prostitute themselves to stay afloat financially?).
I finally experienced my first "culture shock" in Africa. I was a little shocked when one of the young mothers, who was sitting directly in front of me, bared her breast and started (openly) breastfeeding her baby (I believe I was in the middle of a sentence when this happened, and I nearly choked on my words). Halfway through the meeting, the other babies too, started latching on to their mothers, who made little attempt to make the process more private. Was I the only one who was surprised by this collective (concerted?) public display of nudity? It seems like Kenyans (Africans?) have very a different notion of privacy as far as nudity is concerned. In any case, to avoid any potential awkwardness, I looked away whenever possible.
Oh, one of the villagers also gave me a Kenyan (Maasai?) name, "Kripotich" which supposedly means "the one who is born when the cows are coming out." Go figure.
Kambekisii is situated directly next to a wealthy suburb, a somewhat poignant juxtaposition. Kambekisii's cluster of flimsy-looking, corrugated-iron shacks provides a stark contrast to the modern, western-style brick buildings (complete with tiled roofs and state-of-the-art water tanks, a luxury in Kenya) located literally just a few meters away. These two worlds are thinly separated from each other by a stone wall. Next to this wall is a ditch that drains away the waste water from the luxury homes. The slum residents, however, call it a "river" and do all their laundry there.
During the outreach, we were housed in a little wooden shack, where Amy and I gave a presentation on the basic facts of ARV Therapy in English (which Rachel helped translate into Swahili) to a small group of around 20 people. After that, we went around the slum distributing free brochures on HIV testing and prevention.
What I found interesting/puzzling was that though the staff demonstrated how to use a diaphragm (during which the women and girls giggled hysterically), there was, however, no instruction on the proper way to use a condom (there were men present in the audience). In fact, during her presentation, Rachel encouraged "total abstinence" before marriage, and told the villagers that she wouldn't even encourage the use of condoms. Though I could understand that technically, "total abstinence" is the safest way to go, I wonder how practical her recommendation is for these slum-dwellers (how do you teach abstinence to girls who have to prostitute themselves to stay afloat financially?).
I finally experienced my first "culture shock" in Africa. I was a little shocked when one of the young mothers, who was sitting directly in front of me, bared her breast and started (openly) breastfeeding her baby (I believe I was in the middle of a sentence when this happened, and I nearly choked on my words). Halfway through the meeting, the other babies too, started latching on to their mothers, who made little attempt to make the process more private. Was I the only one who was surprised by this collective (concerted?) public display of nudity? It seems like Kenyans (Africans?) have very a different notion of privacy as far as nudity is concerned. In any case, to avoid any potential awkwardness, I looked away whenever possible.
Oh, one of the villagers also gave me a Kenyan (Maasai?) name, "Kripotich" which supposedly means "the one who is born when the cows are coming out." Go figure.
Thursday, August 5, 2010
Jambo!
Kenya has been quite an experience so far.
A summary of the past few days:
Day 1, Saturday, 31/7
Arrived in Nairobi at 8am at the Jomo Kenyatta International Airport. Ran into travel document issues at the immigration. Threatened with deportation because I did not own a passport. An hour of drama later (which involved a crash course into the idiosyncrasies of Brunei's citizenship laws, some puppy-eyed pleading on my part, and divine intervention), I finally got through immigration. Picked up by Oliver, the coordinator from Fadhili Community (my host organization). Taken to his flat (which a volunteer described as "an island in a sea of slums") in Kawangware, a quickly expanding shanty about half an hour from Nairobi city, where I was to be housed temporarily until assigned to my project.My first impressions of Kenya (as far as the drive from the airport to Kawangware is concerned)? Nairobi's a fairly "modern-looking" city in terms of architecture, and the highway connecting the airport to the city was in excellent condition. Billboards along the highway and shop signs flaunted fluent English (surprisingly, I haven't seen any that's in Swahili). I was also a little overwhelmed by the air pollution, and the fact that the weather's much chillier than I expected (low 20s).
My first experience of Africa was ironically a western one. In the afternoon, I went with other volunteers (who hailed mainly from the US, UK, and Australia) to Nakumatt Junction (the Kenyan version of Walmart) to stock up on necessities. Then we had lunch at Java, a multi-cuisine restaurant that catered mainly to local expats and foreigners. For a second, I thought I was in Europe; there were lots of mzungus (Swahili for white people), and several volunteers ordered scones and drank tea. I ordered an Indonesian curry dish that somewhat reminded me of home.
The rich-poor divide somewhat took me by surprise. Just a few minutes off the orderly, concrete highway, the roads rapidly deteriorated into a series of muddy and rocky paths. Glass-paneled buildings quickly gave way to little shacks constructed out of corrugated iron and planks of decaying wood. The traffic, especially in Kawangware, was extremely chaotic as the ubiquitous matatus (passenger vans) weaved in and out of traffic and pedestrians crossed the roads in a haphazard fashion. At Nakumatt Junction, on the other hand, BMWs and Mercedes graced the parking lot, and several traffic lights promised some measure of order and safety.
Later that night, we hired a matatu to go clubbing in the city. African beer is pretty cheap (around $2 for a bottle of Tusker). After drinks, we grooved to African music on a small dance floor. The mzungu girls in our group were hit on repeatedly by the locals (one girl was simply grabbed and kissed on the cheek by an intoxicated middle-aged man, and I had to help "extricate" her).
It was a tiring, but good first day.
Day 2, Sunday, 1/8
Watched orphaned elephants getting fed out of humongous milk bottles. Kissed (photo evidence to be uploaded later) a giraffe named Daisy (who wasn't always nice, as she dismissed another volunteer with a "head-butt" when she did not have any food to offer). Held a baby crocodile. Fed a bunch of somewhat aggressive monkeys out of my palms (several volunteers simply had their peanut packages yanked out of their hands). Went shopping at a Maasai market, but left early when a somewhat dramatic argument broke out (cause unclear) between two sellers. What an eventful day.Day 3, Monday, 2/8
Orientation day. Found out I'd be working with the HIV Foundation with another volunteer, Amy from Canada, and staying with Naomi. Transported to my permanent lodging in Ngong town, about an hour from Nairobi city.Day 4, Tuesday, 3/8
First day of work. In the morning, we met up with the project coordinator, Kinyua, and took the matatu to Providence VCT (Voluntary Counseling and Testing Center, more details later) in Karen. Veronica (a local volunteer at Providence) taught us how to use a HIV/AIDS testing kit. In the afternoon, Judith (another Providence worker) took us to visit her home and her four children. She showed us how to make ugali, a traditional Kenyan dish prepared by stirring maize flour above a charcoal stove. Later, her children (3 girls and a boy, ages 3-15) attempted to teach Amy and me hip-hop (ALL the Kenyan youth I've met so far can do hip-hop!). Later in the evening, we were invited for dinner in the home of Nicholas and Peninah, the founders of Providence VCT. We were treated to a delicious meal of rice, spicy beef, beans and maize, peas, collard greens, and fruits. The hospitality was truly amazing =)Day 5, Wednesday, 4/8
As a safety precaution, all volunteers are staying indoors in view of the Kenyan elections that are taking place today (the 2007 Kenyan Elections ended with a lot of violence and bloodshed on the streets). Which gives me some time to update my blog.
My host mother's name is Naomi. She keeps the apartment extremely clean, and cooks for the volunteers with the help of her cousin, Aminah, the single mother of an infant child. Naomi's two nephews (Izzo and Isaac, 16 and 20 respectively) and niece (Josephine, 12) are also staying with us. Right now, there are seven volunteers (myself included) living in the apartment. More details about the family later.
I'm fairly excited about my project placement. We had a "coordination meeting" yesterday to plan out our activities for the next two weeks. Amy and I will be visiting several slums (Kambikisii, Matassia, Lenana) to do HIV/AIDS outreach. We will be talking to HIV-positive patients about the importance of nutrition, tracking their treatment adherence, as well as providing home-based care (cooking and cleaning?) for PLWAs (People Living with AIDS).
I'm fairly excited about my project placement. We had a "coordination meeting" yesterday to plan out our activities for the next two weeks. Amy and I will be visiting several slums (Kambikisii, Matassia, Lenana) to do HIV/AIDS outreach. We will be talking to HIV-positive patients about the importance of nutrition, tracking their treatment adherence, as well as providing home-based care (cooking and cleaning?) for PLWAs (People Living with AIDS).
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