Mutomo is located conveniently near one of Kenya's oldest and biggest National game parks, which is probably why this region is known for it's array of animals. There are of course the "Big 5", but there are also those which the guide books don't mention. These seem to have taken up residence in my small room, making the less well-known but equally impressive "Small 5". I wonder if I could start charging admission to view these.
We have the following (in order of annoyance):
scorpions- yes, they seem to have followed me from Kitui. I've only spotted one outside my room, but it won't be long before it realizes my host mama is still in Kitui and does not pose an immediate threat anymore
spiders- are fearless and usually appear on my towel early in the morning when I am exiting the shower, groggy and vulnerable
ants- we have an agreement that I will tolerate their little parades through my room but if I find them in my sugar bowl, I will eat them alive without hesitation
lizards- salamanders, geckos, I'm not sure of the difference, but they're probably all in my room. The only good thing about these is that they are very skittish and seem to be more afraid of their own shadow than of me. I usually leave them alone (unless they are in my bed)
mosquitoes- am constantly trying to discourage these persistent beasts by sleeping under a mosquito net and taking my malaria meds dutifully. They're not getting my non-verbal signals.
Until we can work out our differences and co-exist peacefully, I'm arming my fortress and the brave will be sorry. To demonstrate I mean business, I've invested in a spray can of Doom, a favorite repellant among Kenyans to rid their homes of pesty creatures. I'm considering purchasing a holster so I can practice whipping out the can as an added incentive if the negotiations aren't going my way.
In other news, the constructions of the pit latrines at the first school has officially begun. As it's completed, myself and the Peer Educators will start our descent onto the Primary school students to try and convince them that hand washing is important and fun. Wish me luck.
Hope everyone is well.
PS. I've added some photos and a video clip to the site. Enjoy. I'll add more as I have them.
Saturday, September 22, 2007
Thursday, September 13, 2007
The Nuns and the Runs
Finally some photos! Although these pictures hardly do the town of Mutomo true justice, it's some indication as to what I see everyday. Notice the dirt roads and the abundance of donkeys and church signs. The options are so overwhelming that I have yet to make my choice.
Speaking of church, there are some fierce nuns who work on the hospital compound who are big rugby followers. Now that rugby season has started, I know more about Irish rugby than I ever thought I'd learn in a lifetime (especially in Kenya).
Speaking of church, there are some fierce nuns who work on the hospital compound who are big rugby followers. Now that rugby season has started, I know more about Irish rugby than I ever thought I'd learn in a lifetime (especially in Kenya).
Sometimes, no matter what you do, you may have the bad luck to come down with diarrhea. (sorry, there's just no good transition for that). Fortunately, there is a pit latrine about 50 feet away from the office that I could sprint to several times a day. Squatting and aiming over a small hole in a cement slab over and over again demands some serious balance and focus. Yet again I find myself sparing you the details (trust me, this is sparing the details), but on the upside, I think my thigh muscles have strengthened as a result. Treatment includes letting it pass on it's own in 5-7 days, but since I can't trace the origin of the tenants harboring unwelcomed in my digestive tract, I don't know what to avoid in the future. Also on the upside, I can finally partake in the lively and commonplace brag-fests that occur when any Peace Corps people get together to tell tales of amoebas, giardia, and other such fun health concerns. The opportunities abound. Did I mention life is a bit uneventful here?
In the end, I am feeling better, a bit more acclimated to life in Kenya, and a bit more prepared to face the next bout, as I'm sure this is not the last.
Monday, August 27, 2007
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.
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)
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)
Monday, August 20, 2007
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...
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...
Sunday, August 5, 2007
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.
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.
Monday, July 23, 2007
Last Week of Training
Last week we went on an overnight trip to Nairobi to visit the Peace Corps headquarters and a government health organization. The purpose of the trip was to become acquainted with the various resources available to us while at site, such as HIV manuals and teaching supplements, as well as the large framed photos of our President and Vice President. I was nostalgic for a moment when I realized I recognized those two faces right away although I hadn't seen their smiling faces for several months.
I'm not sure how much news from Kenya makes it's way across the world, but there were some earthquake tremors that began in Tanzania and made it's way to Nairobi last week. My host mama said she felt a tremor while she was sleeping, but I was awake and in the same house and didn't notice a thing. I didn't think much of it until we were packed in a matatu on our way to Nairobi and head an announcement on the radio (in English) mentioning that all rumors from the American Embassy warning it's citizens to evacuate were false, and that everyone should continue on as normal. We all turned to stare at one another because I think this was the first time any of us heard anything about it. Then the news report went on to discredit the headlines made by various religious sects and witchdoctors that claimed they could predict the next big earthquake that was scheduled for later that week as a punishment for wrongdoings in Africa (which did not occur, maybe their lines were crossed). It's incredible how much influence religion has here. Meanwhile, the large California contingent of trainees all laughed at us because they experience earthquakes and tremors (not to mention mudslides/wildfires/celebrities driving under the influence) all of the time and told us not to worry.
So all is well and we're wrapping up the last week of training. Several of my colleagues have dropped out after visiting their site and now they're back safely in the US of A. I'm still hanging in there, as is the chicken who will likely meet it's fate this weekend to mark my departure from Kitui. It has grown significantly and is looking healthy. I've noticed it also gets a little nervous around me, so perhaps it can predict the future.
More updates to come...
I'm not sure how much news from Kenya makes it's way across the world, but there were some earthquake tremors that began in Tanzania and made it's way to Nairobi last week. My host mama said she felt a tremor while she was sleeping, but I was awake and in the same house and didn't notice a thing. I didn't think much of it until we were packed in a matatu on our way to Nairobi and head an announcement on the radio (in English) mentioning that all rumors from the American Embassy warning it's citizens to evacuate were false, and that everyone should continue on as normal. We all turned to stare at one another because I think this was the first time any of us heard anything about it. Then the news report went on to discredit the headlines made by various religious sects and witchdoctors that claimed they could predict the next big earthquake that was scheduled for later that week as a punishment for wrongdoings in Africa (which did not occur, maybe their lines were crossed). It's incredible how much influence religion has here. Meanwhile, the large California contingent of trainees all laughed at us because they experience earthquakes and tremors (not to mention mudslides/wildfires/celebrities driving under the influence) all of the time and told us not to worry.
So all is well and we're wrapping up the last week of training. Several of my colleagues have dropped out after visiting their site and now they're back safely in the US of A. I'm still hanging in there, as is the chicken who will likely meet it's fate this weekend to mark my departure from Kitui. It has grown significantly and is looking healthy. I've noticed it also gets a little nervous around me, so perhaps it can predict the future.
More updates to come...
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