What's Behind Door #4?

We were on another site visit to schools the day I finally met
my match. I knew it would only be a matter of time, but I
hoped to prolong it as long as possible, maybe forever. We had visited about 25 schools, and had gotten into a bit of a routine when surveying the grounds. When it came to inspecting the pit latrines, my standard procedure was to hold my nose, creak open the door (if it had one), look around as if I expected to see something, nod approvingly, jot down some notes, take some photos, and move on. By this time I've seen a number of pit latrines in various conditions, but none quite like the one I saw this time. We were at a school that had 4 stalls in a row, all without doors except one, which was closed. I began my inspection protocol, and eventually ended up at the last door. In order to be thorough and to satiate my curiosity, I creaked open the metal door and peeked in. Instinctively, my eyes looked down to assess the condition of the floor of the latrine first, and came across a snake stretched out near the entrance. I let go of the door and backed away, motioning to our Kenyan tour guides that there was something inside that needed their attention. I'm not sure how to explain that motion in words, but they seemed to understand.

Seemingly embarrassed and caught in a compromising position, the snake tried to slither out of the latrine unnoticed, but all eyes were on it as the three guys circled around, throwing large branches at it until it stopped moving. As I watched from a distance, one of the bravest guys finished it off, picked up the limp body with a stick and threw it down the very same pit latrine to it's final resting place. I thanked all of them profusely, shaking their hands, but they shrugged it off as though it was commonplace. They did walk around the rest of the school compound with us wielding large sticks, though.

Upon returning to Mutomo I mustered up the courage to flip through one of the engineers' books on various types of snakes (complete with photos and detailed descriptions-this does not help my fear) but I could not locate it. Now I don't know if that should alleviate my fear or heighten it.

I'm going to start kicking in the pit latrine door Rambo-style, from now on, just to be safe.

I'm in Nairobi this weekend for work-related duties.
Happy Labor Day. Don't work too hard.

disclaimer: no animals were harmed in the writing of this entry, although I can't say the same for the unfortunate ones that cross my path here in Kenya.

School Tours

Last week I spent visiting schools in the area we’re working with, helping to complete a follow-up assessment to an earlier survey. This involved meeting with the headmasters of the schools, taking photos and measurements of classrooms, inquiring about water consumption, inspecting the latrines (my favorite part), and providing excitement for the students while unintentionally disrupting their summer school classes. Although we arrived unannounced to all of the schools, we were received with warm receptions.

We travelled in a pickup truck, or a “Yute” (short for “utility”) as I’m told by my Australian supervisor, three of us snug in the front cab. Some of the roads made the Kitui-Mutomo road look like a racetrack in comparison, but with a proper vehicle and a skilled Kenyan driver, the roads were actually possible to traverse. I’d like to consider myself an optimist, but several times we came across a river, stream, ditch, cluster of roots and rocks, tree branches, thorns, washed away gullies, livestock, I thought for sure we’d need to give up and turn around. I even saw a mountain goat attempt to climb a bank alongside the road and slip and fall. Not kidding. The driver didn’t even blink as he put the Yute into gear and gunned it forward. As a result, I have a sore rear end and a bruised collarbone from the seat belt holding me in place while we jostled around.

Many of the schools had no signboards or other indication to announce its location or how far away it was, so we navigated most of the roads with pure instinct and the assistance of the local villagers and their directions. The people in this area are notoriously known for saying anyywhere you’re going is “just there”, as in, you’re always almost there. No matter that we’ve been driving for hours since the last person directed us with the school being “just there”. Sometimes the driver would turn to me and unknowingly ask the person with the world’s worst sense of direction, “Are we lost?" If you’re asking me, I think we’re in trouble. At every junction, the driver would suggest we proceed in one direction, my supervisor suggesting another, and they would both turn expectantly to me to break the tie. I effectively excused myself from weighing in, warning them that even if I suggested I had a “gut feeling” about a certain path to take, they should ignore me completely, or go the exact opposite way.

Also, interestingly enough, although I rode with a different driver each day, all of the drivers are men, none of them seemed to have any hesitation asking the locals for directions when realizing (and admitting) we were lost. Hmm…there goes that nature vs. nurture argument…

And it was a happy birthday, thanks all for the wishes.

Cheers!
(also as my Aussie supervisor would say)

Home, Sweet Mutomo

So far, so good. I'm learning how to cook with the locally available produce which includes lots of tomatoes, potatoes, onions, avocado, and garlic. LOTS of garlic. Every one of my meals involve some combination of these aforementioned ingredients. It does take some serious creativity, and I've found the upside of eating lots of garlic is that it scares away the mosquitoes (and some people).

This past weekend I saw my first dead snake, stoned to death on the hospital grounds. Lucky for me, Kenyans seem to dislike snakes as much as I do, and are far more brave to actually do something about it. Also fortunate for me, they do not seem to make a distinction between those which are harmful and poisonous and those which are not when attempting to kill them. Even the nuns here try to assure me that snakes are more scared of me than I am of them, but I honestly don't think that is even possible. Maybe my garlic breath will scare them off, too.

Saturday is Market Day here in Mutomo, which is probably the most exciting thing to happen in a week. I've started buying my weekly allotment of oranges and eggs from the same sellers, so I am building a relationship with them (also known as integrating into the community). Often I'll get an extra egg and/or orange slipped in my bag, which I think is a form of appreciation at my attempts to speak Swahili. It's a nice system we have going.

This week I'm going to visit some of the local schools to do some follow-up assessments, so it will be interesting to get out and see more parts of the surrounding areas. More updates to come. Hope all is well.

PS. My foot has seemed to heal itself. I guess ignoring it and feeding it Ibuprofen once in a while is a cure in itself...

The end...and a new beginning

First things first: the chicken lived a long and prosperous life, and although I'll again spare you the details, I did the honors with a steady hand and no tears. I'm directly impacting the circle of life.

Next, last week we were in Nairobi for our swearing in ceremony, so I took advantage of having the medical staff at my disposal to have my foot checked out. It was slightly swollen and the nurse suggested I get it x-rayed. I was sent to Nairobi Hospitals' x-ray department in the Casualty Center, which I hoped was one of those leftover British terms that doesn't translate well into American English or else I was in for a big surprise.
Nothing could be determined from the x-ray, perhaps because I still have a pulse, so I was instructed to take Ibuprofen and rest and ice the foot, which is easier said than done here in Kenya.

Training has come to an end and after our Swahili language proficiency test (I passed!), we've officially been sworn in as Volunteers at the US Ambassador's residence in Nairobi, and yes there was even a certificate involved. Friday we said goodbye and moved to our new sites, where I had the good fortune of returning to Kitui to switch buses and head to Mutomo. Mutomo is directly south of Kitui, two hours down the same dirt road as my homestay family (I'm literally moving down the street). Although the distance in kilometers is not very far, it takes a while to travel because the road is so treacherous. Pot holes that could swallow a car (reminds me of DC), and various livestock being herded around in no hurry to get to their destination (I wonder if they knew my chicken and are holding a grudge). Using public transportation in the form of matatus also calls for an interesting ride, as they are brightly painted minibuses with strange slogans like "DeathStar 2000" painted on the outside, and although it looks like an entire door or other such important part of the vehicle could rattle right off it's hinges at any moment, it always seems to have state-of-the-art speakers blaring music (I've even seen one with a flat screen TV), which does help distract me from fearing for my life at every turn. Luckily for me, Mariah Carey and Toni Braxton are very popular here on the radio.
My ride to from Kitui to Mutomo was so packed full of people that my luggage had to be strapped to the roof. My host mama escorted me onto the bus, pushing her way through the crowd while holding my hand, and helped me to get a good seat. I watched helplessly as my luggage was hoisted atop the roof among sacks of rice, furniture, and bundles of (live) chickens tied together. I was weary about the safety of my belongings, but I heard my host mama yell at the conductor to tie my bag down tightly. He nodded in understanding and as I settled in for a bone-jarring ride, I realized that her word and threat was probably more influential than if I held my bag in my own lap. It must have worked, because during the ride the conductor nestled up to me and asked me if I knew that woman who took me to the bus. Know her?! I told him she was my mama in Kitui and he shook my hand.
I arrived in Mutomo with my bags safely and intact, and made a new friend in the process. Considering I'll need to make trips to the big town of Kitui for the comforts of home rather frequently, it's good to have friends in high places.

I got to my site safely last night and had dinner at the head engineer's house, who also happens to be my neighbor. All present were one Aussie, two Irish, three Kenyans, and one American. Thanks to colonialism, we were all able to communicate, albeit with varying accents.

Now I'm starting to settle in and figure out how to make a 10x6 room feel like a home. Also at the top of my list of things to do is figure out how to download photos, right after locating 4 nails to hang my mosquito net from...

Although Mutomo town does not have power and therefore no internet cafes, the NGO I'm working with has rigged solar panels to the roof of their office and has a modem internet card that's shared among the staff. I'll continue updating when I have good stories and it's my turn to be connected.

Hope all is well with everyone.

P.S. I have a new mailing address. Only a digit away from the most expensive zip code in America, but you wouldn't know it here.