Well the big week has come and gone; Rural Week. Unless I have a mysterious ghostwriter somewhere in the world, my writing of this post proves that I have gone a full week without running water and electricity and have survived. WARNING: THIS WILL BE A LONG POST
On Saturday we all left our cozy apartments bright and early and headed off to the bus station to go from Nairobi to Machakos. Rather then leaving on a set schedule, buses in Kenya leave when the bus is full. So while we all got on the bus at 8 am, we did not leave until 9:30. Also, instead of being able to get some peace, quiet and sleep during the waiting game, we were constantly bombarded with hawkers boarding our bus trying to sell us everything from knockoff watches to food and drink. At Machakos we then boarded a private matatu and headed off to Nyumbani Village for 2 days to get our bearings in the Kenyan boonies.
The village is actually an artificially constructed center which acts as an all inclusive orphanage for children with many of them having HIV/Aids. The village contains a church, school, health center, and activity fields. Children are split into houses of 10 each with a grandparent caring for the kids. Other then taking a sustainability tour of the place and playing some sports with the kids, we really did not do much other then play endless rounds of mafia and various card games. Also having everyone stuck together for 48 hours adjusting to a new environment was really a bad idea and by the end of our stay, I think we were all at each others throats.
After eating our final breakfast on Monday, we packed up our things and headed off to our rural homestays in Katangi and Kyua (pronounced Chua) about 40 minutes away. When we arrived in Kyua, all those staying in the village got kicked out immediately at the chief’s house and waited to head off with their host families who were there waiting. The sudden departure of half our group shook some of us a little bit as the reality of our situation set in. We would be on our own, miles away from each other, and would need to call upon everything we have learned up to this point in order to make it through. Very soon after leaving Kyua, we dropped two more of us off along the side of the road before the remaining 5 of us were brought to the District Officer (something similar to the mayor of a county), to be officially welcomed to the town and asked to sign their visitors book ( a big thing in Kenya). Following a security escort back to the local counselors house, we waited patiently over a cup of chai for our host families to arrive and take us off into the sunset for the next 7 days. As luck would have it, everyone got picked up except for me, leaving me all by my lonesome with Lynsey, Tony- Lynsey’s Boyfriend, and our two African attaches; Osewe and Nick. Rather then being completely cruel and unusual and leaving me to find my host family on my own, Lynsey- for once, showed compassion and took the AU gang and I to my family’s house. In continuing the great luck I was having, no one was home when we showed up. Luckily though after a few minutes, my family started to pop out of the woodwork-literally, and welcomed me to their compound with open arms.
My family consisted of 3 people Jeremiah Raphael- the father, Joyce- the mother, and Mercy- their 25 year old daughter. While those were the only ones who lived at home, Jeremiah and Joyce had 5 other children-3 boys and 2 girls, who ranged in age from 13-35. Somehow, I came to realize over the course of the week that besides the obvious socioeconomic differences and color of skin, my host parents were exactly like my mom and dad back home. Jeremiah was a former retired air force instructor who was well read and could talk about any topic ranging from religion,education reform, to even American conspiracy theories. Like my dad, Jeremiah liked to be on time and have everything planned and rather then honking the car horn to get my mom, Raphi and I out of the house when we needed to go somewhere, Jeremiah would just leave without you if you were late. My mother Joyce just needed to be Jewish to be an exact replica of my mom. At mealtimes she would never let me have a empty plate and would always offer me everything that she had when I came looking for a snack. Whenever I wanted to do something that members of the normal population would consider stupid and crazy, Joyce would always voice her concern and overworry- I think this part matches my mom exactly. While i did not have a picture of my parents to show them, I did call my mom and let her talk to Jeremiah. Like usual my mom told Jeremiah to look out for me and make sure I came back in one piece and just like I realized, Jeremiah made the connection that my mom and Joyce are the same person.
During the week at Jeremiah’s, I was kept beyond busy ( a much different experience then most of the people in the group). The second day there, I was drafted to help build a new latrine for the church. For some reason, Jeremiah thought I was weak so it surprised him when I could carry 40 pound stones and push wheel barrels of sand to make cement. One thing that boggled his mind and all those who watched was my use of the Lifestraw on the construction site. Since it was a good 95 degrees that day and there was no clean water for me, I drank from a barrel filled with sandy and muddy water which was to be used to mix the cement. Though everyone at first I was completely nuts and were trying to stop me from drinking, there jaws literally dropped when they saw the water I spit out of my mouth to be clear and drinkable and the water blown out of the filter to be as dark as milk chocolate. Honestly this moment was one of my personal highlights for the week. As I said in the last post, I first learned about the Lifestraw as a high schooler in Model UN and being able to take the product from a theoretical solution that means nothing at a simulation to bringing it into the field and have it change the lives of people who need it is quite a remarkable journey.
Wednesday brought market day to Katangi with what seemed like the whole community coming out to buy and sell wares. To give you an idea of what a rural market day is like, try to imagine Wall Mart but with each section having stalls and it all being outside. There was a livestock market, fruit section, pop up bars, clothing sellers, toys for the young kids, and anything else you could think of. While us in the states simply go to the market buy our things and leave, here in Katangi, market day is a full day excursion where you socialize, catch up on the latest gossip, and of course eat nyama choma and drink Tusker. On our list for the day included buying a goat for our Saturday party, getting vegetables for the week, and I needing to buy a present for my host family. On our way we stopped into a shop owned by Joyce’s sister and brother in law and had a great conversation about life in the states and African politics from a man who was thirty years out of date (he thought Pan Am was still a functioning airline and that East Germany was being repressed by the West). That night after we got back, I had one of the most delicious meals I have ever had which included food from the farm, what we bought at the market, and it was all vegetarian. To say that I have ever had a carrot that was that sweet or nutritious would be a complete lie. You could feel the vitamins and minerals course through your veins on its way to your stomach.
For the rest of the week after that, I was mainly tasked with helping out around the farm and was able to try things I would never be able to experience back home. So yes while hoeing some land to get rid of plants would not be at the top of list, herding goats is a throwback to a simpler time and with me wearing my Keffeyiah, all i needed was a stick and burning bush to turn into a modern day Moses. Also learning to do things in a new simpler way really makes you appreciate things back home. Cooking over an open fire takes at least 3 hours to feed a family of four and washing clothes by hand makes you really miss a washing machine and dryer. The one break I got from helping around was my visit to the local primary school. Since most of the kids in the village have never seen a mzungu before, having one visit their school was like having a Justin Beiber pay a visit to a elementary school girls commune-if those exist. Literally all of the children dropped what they were doing and came over to the class I was talking with to simply watch me. When it came time to meet with some of the teachers though their attitude to me was much more civil. After the usual questions about me and where I lived, they got interested in asking about the role of the teacher in the states and how they were viewed in society. Even though Kenyan teachers are highly looked upon, they are usually paid only 300-400 American Dollars a month. The other big question I was asked which really took me aback was about the Lifestraw. Apparently news of my Jesus like miracle has spread all over town and they were begging me to tell them how they could get their hands on a pair.
However like all good things rural week did come to an end. On Saturday, everyone’s host family, some local celebrities, and Jeremiah’s eldest daughter along with her 7 month old son came by the house for a celebration filled with freshly killed goat ( I butchered the ribs), chicken, vegetables from the farm and market, Tusker and the local brew Karibo which kind of tasted like mojito mixed with a kamikaze. We all danced-terribly, endured endless speeches, and exchanged gifts with our families which for me included a handwoven basket for Mercy, a kanga for Joyce, and 1500 shillings for Jeremiah which were to be used as payment for his first few months of electricity which he was hoping to be able to afford within the next year. After seeing the purpose of what the money was for, Jeremiah got really water eyed and gave me a good ol hug which like everything else about the week reminded me of the ones my dad usually gives out after I come home from college after a long time. In return, Jeremiah gave me a handcrafted ebony water buffalo which looks really nice and since I made such a big impact on his brother-in-law (aka East Germany still being repressed guy), he gave me a hand carved wooden ostrich which is quite beautiful but REALLY REALLY delicate. Then after another cup of Karibo, we all said our goodbyes and parted ways back to civilization.
After having some time to look back on the week, I really am shocked that somehow it became my favorite week so far in Kenya and one of the most unforgettable experiences in my life. While I was really psyched for the chance to do this sitting on my couch in the states looking at abroad programs, right before I was dropped off I was beyond anxious for the week; how would I survive, would my Swahili be good enough to communicate with my family, would I even like my family. Lucky for me all these fears were calmed and not only did I survive, I thrived. While at times Nairobi might show the worst of Kenya, Katangi showed some of the best. After all the talks about how corruption, the government and even foreign aid agencies have destroyed development, seeing the difference that can still be made at the micro level in rural areas with ideas as simple as just giving a Lifestraw or expanding out electricity has recharged my passion and pursuit of this field. I came to Kenya hoping to not only get some field work in development and have an adventure but to figure out some questions that I had about myself. After this past week, I know I have grown leaps and bounds as a person with the knowledge that I have lived on so little. I really do not know how to explain it but sitting down outside Jeremiah’s house listening to the song of weaver birds it just hit me that I was at peace with myself and with the world around me. I simply feel like a different person; one who is more open and mature about a lot of things in my life. I can only hope that this new found wave of energy carries me through the second half of the program and stays with me when I return home to the states. Even though I know that when I return home the transition back might be scary and quite long, I can say with much confidence that whatever happens, I will be ready to embrace what comes out the other side.
Hello, I saw one of your posts about how you attend USIU in Kenya. I was thinking about attending that college & I would love to know your views about it. Are there other Universities in Kenya that you would recommend? PS. I'm a Senior in high school in the US.
Archive
Mobile
RSS
Revista Theme
Tumblr
