SB 2k10

well, i now know where heaven is. it's nestled off the coast on Kenya on a small island called Lamu. i think we had too much fun. the only two cars on the island are the "ambulance" and the district commissioners vehicle. the streets are small and beautiful Swahili people jump out from everywhere saying "Karibu!" there are about as many donkeys as people and they just stand around calmly, so you can pet them as you pass. the passion fruit juice is real and cold and less than $1. and it is hot, similar to d.c. in mid-july.

we did everything and nothing: i finished a book, took photos (to be developed soon), napped on the beach, sea-kayaked (again?!) to isolated beaches, swam in the indian ocean during the day, got sunburned, drank fresh juice, got a (cheap) deep-tissue massage laying on a mat under a fan, hung out at the one watering hole on the island making friends with rastas, spent one lucky night at this place with kayla and kei and a group of military men on vacation (little did i know, there is a large U.S. Army base on the coast of Kenya), swam in the indian ocean at night where our hands glowed under water, took a sunset cruise on a dhow, napped in a hammock, drank more juice, learned how to play dominoes, had a delicious coastal homemade meal with our kayak guides and had an all-around great time.

oh! also i got an internship at the International Rescue Committee for the summer--so i'll be hanging out with refugees, which is great 'cause it means i can still practice my swahili. and the national's new album 'high violet' leaked, and i like it.

home in two weeks. itakuwaje? how's it going to be?

the airport

a view of a small lamu town street

another street

the waterfront

our kayak guide, freddy and the beach we went to

my view

kayla and kei and i, cruisin' the indian ocean

a sunset view from my seat on the boat

our crew members, as seen through the blueblockers

sunset, take 2

kayla and i on the beach

kei on shella beach--it was the low-season for tourism

on the speedboat, with our new Canadian friend, Trish

a view from the majlis resort

in the resort, googly-eyed at the nice things

kei, myself and kayla

kayla, ash (a fellow ethiopian backpacker), penquin and freddy (our kenyan dinner hosts) playing dominoes

port victoria, part III

we are winding down here in the field. it's been an interesting 3 weeks. the other night kayla and my room was invested with little bugs. it kind of looked like the walls were moving. that passed, thank goodness. but now they're dead all over the floor. it's become a little cooler and i have gotten quite used to wearing ankle length kindergarten-teacher-esque skirts. the main takeaway message from our fieldwork has been that nothing in kenya really goes as planned. we were at the mercy of the ministry of health--they were to be our tour guides--and as many kenyans feel, (i'm sure) they don't always do what they say they will. or it's a cultural difference. or it gets lost in translation. or all of the above.

we spent a lot of time touring hospitals and dispensaries. a majority of women in this rural region deliver their babies at home. it's not entirely surprising when you see the health care facilities. in the mid 1980s the Ministry of Health initiated a campaign to incorporate and train TBAs--they were brought into big cities and given certificates and then sent back home to begin delivering their neighbor's children. then in 2002 the WHO published a meta-analysis stating that the use of TBAs increases maternal mortality, so the MOH retracted their previous training and banned all connection with TBAs. we met an elderly woman yesterday who was a TBA for 20 years. she was toothless and walked with a cane and gave us a real-life demonstration of a "typical birth" using a 4 year old bystander as her pregnant mother. we met with a handful of mothers in a clinic as well. it has been whispered that depo is the preferred method of birth control, because they can hide the injection from their husbands. some nurses even train women on how to fake having their period every month so their husband does not become suspicious.

and...now! the port victoria double-decker music video!!

earlier this week we had been going on (endless?) rounds with the CLTS (Community Led Total Sanitation) group and UNICEF who sent an important lady to check on the progress. they "trigger" communities by walking around and picking up their poop, without latrines people defecate in the open, which then gets into the water, their food and their bellies = definite health problems. CLTS was started in Bangladesh following the tsunami and the idea is that people will be so disgusted they will find ways to build latrines. in theory this should work, but when people are living on less than a dollar a day they find it challenging to find resources to build latrines. for three days, however, we walked around and checked out the latrines that had been built. was the footpath leading to it worn? were there flies around (suggesting use)? was there privacy? was it near a borehole? how many people shared it? was it built in the V-formation to ensure stability? we held a number of focus group discussions, always under large trees. the trees were the "conference room," they belong to the community, they are not trimmed and are just there to provide a meeting place and shade. miraculously, a dozen chairs always appear at said gatherings, as does a visitors book to sign. it was discovered in a focus discussion group that a father and a daughter-in-law can't share a latrine, this poses problems when building one for a homestead where 40+ people may live.

there was also a supposed cholera outbreak while we were here. a handful of us paired up with our kenyan doctor counterparts and went to take histories of 4 patients. they put the cholera patients in "isolation" (the side room next to the operating theater). i watched as mr. odukis took a history on a 40 year old HIV+ woman who looked like a skeleton. they were all lying on cots with holes cut out so they could just defecate into buckets below the cots--some had had diarrhea for 2+ days. then the rest of the team went down to the beach and distributed AquaTabs and Pur and instructed bystanders and fishermen on the importance of treating drinking water.

we've spent a lot of time talking with people about malaria as well--it's quite prevalent in this area. LLITNs (long lasting insecticide treated bed nets) have been distributed, but interestingly people have been using them for various other uses: fishing in the river, building latrines, as a blanket and to protect their crops in their kitchen gardens. many people have used them correctly though and much progress has been made in the area around malaria prevention.

i spent an afternoon with a few CHWs (community health workers) we visited homes, and walked for hours, talking about health topics. i was offered a kitten and learned that kenyans are taught america is rich because we keep 10% of our crops and export 90%, so we always have enough. we have spent every afternoon "taking a soda" which is usually a highlight. this past weekend we went back to our home city and it was so nice to dance and have cold drinks and sleep without bugs--it's the little things in life. there is also an affordable beer here--it's now called 'president'. but back in the day it was called 'senator.' the brewery switched the name once obama was elected. i liked that.

i could go on and on. but i suppose that means i'm learning. namely that a dozen kenyan children can appear out of seemingly no where yelling, "Mzungu! how are you! fine!" wearing 1980's track jackets and no pants. this next week is spring break. i plan to learn nothing but how to apply sunscreen on the white beaches of lamu.

all of us on the island we visited on the last day to distribute AquaTab and condoms

a view of the beach

the braids and i on the island

read this derrick c. brown poem, japanese paper. it's a good one.

port victoria, part II

we finished our second week in the rural field site. here are a few pictures:

two houses (and a grave site) that we passed when surveying for pit latrines

a fisherman just fixin' his net

one of the little boys that followed us around

the scene down by the lake

three little girls that followed us up the big hill in town

a view of the village and the river that frequently causes flooding

joel and nancy, two of our classmates

all of us after successfully bungee jumping

for some sunday reading: this article about the ex-rwandan UN ambassador is interesting. and in case you were wondering if you can change human feces into fertilizer, you bet you can! also, a little kenyan comedy.

bucket list.

this past weekend we went to jinja, uganda. there were a lot of cold beverages, bacon, beautiful views, dancing (to Dispatch!?) and plenty of white people. the girls went rafting while a few of us sat by the pool and got a massage (?!) there is a big sign outside of the backpackers compound that says, "avoid morning sex africa." if you can tell me why, i'd love to know. also right outside the backpackers haven were delicious chappati creations with nutella and bananas in them. both nights it rained and we were staying in sturdy safari tents overlooking the nile, listening to the water on the roof--it was heaven.

all in all, a good, relaxing weekend. and i crossed something off my bucket list: bungee jumping into (and immediately out of) the nile river.

port victoria, part I

we begun our journey to the rural village on sunday. saturday night we left eldoret with a bang--full of dancing and cheap rum. sunday morning we said good-bye to our good buddy mark (he's off to madagasgar) and hit the open highway with our hangovers. the ride on our 60-passenger "Moi University" bus was nothing short of hilarious. my bike almost fell out from underneath the bus twice, we needed to stop to put on windshield wipers in the rain, and one of the windows is covered by cardboard (naturally, a music video will come soon)

kayla and i with phillip and our professor outside of the bus

we moved into our guest house and spent the next two days touring hospitals. yesterday i went to a missionary clinic. it was dead quiet by 11am. so i sat around, sitting under the tree and drawing maps of the U.S. and playing with the few babies that stayed around. at one point i had this conversation:

me: "is there a bathroom i can use?"

nurse: "um, let me consult with the other woman."

{goes and talks in swahili for about a minute, comes back}

nurse: "so, you want to take a bath?"

me: "ohh, ha! no. just the latrine, please."

nurse: "oh, ok! this way!"

the costs painted on the wall

the operating theater

the gorgeous, daily sunset from the front door of my room

today, we went to a rural clinic 2 hours away. we sat around for awhile, talking to the one clinical officer and taking tours. there are 3 nurses for a catchment area of 21,000 people. their most recent delivery of anti-biotics was in july, and they're out by now. the bus ride is bumpy and little children yell in a chorus, "how are you! fine!"

when we walked into the pediatric ward there was a little boy who had just died of malaria. the mother walked by us with her hands on her head and just threw herself on the ground in front of the hospital and started to wail. she cried out for the remaining 45 minutes we were there. they had gone to two facilities in the area and both were out of the necessary anti-malarial medication. so, this helpless 4-year old boy died. it was difficult to actually witness the statistics i've read about. when we asked the public health officers when the father would come to console the mother, he said it was best to just let her grieve. then he chuckled. kenyans have a different habit of laughing in the face of despair. it's a nervous chuckle and i'm not sure if it's because they know more hardship than i do, so laughter may be the best medicine.

in other news, the bugs in my room are a force to be reckoned with. and my bathroom is a nice toilet (hole)/shower combo:

frightened rabbits

the emergency department here is called the "casualty". the operating room is called the "theatre". the morgue has been called "the final office". the cardiac department is a single room. this week we went to to talk to the head nurse of the local, private hospital. the only hospital in North Rift province with an MRI machine--and it's usually out of order. they don't have an ambulance. but they do have delicious chai and enormous mandazis for your enjoyment. and you will pay a significant amount of money to go there.

otherwise, this week i sat through getting my hair braided (they will be out before i return home. hakuna matata, mom) i took a couple of tests, made some bracelets with a few women at the street kid center, held a crying baby with a soaking wet bum, did some tae-bo at the gym, took a couple of naps, read a lot about the health care bill (!!), booked my 5-day vacation to lamu, made two eggs for breakfast, had swahili class, started watching Six Feet Under on DVD and briefly saw an outdoor photo exhibit of post-election violence done by this guy.

just hangin' around with the women and babies, making some bracelets

my friend and i

we are packing up and heading to the field on sunday morning = limited internet access.

so, for the next three weeks i will be here:


and i think the republicans are losing it. (again?! yup.)

hell, again.

this past weekend a few of us jumped in the van and went to Hells Gate National Park. Naturally, I made a music video (please pardon the swear words, typically i never curse--but lil weezy (and his teeth!) were just too good here and my imovie skillz are still in progress.)

glad it's warming up for you all on back stateside.

and in case ya'll want a history lesson about humanitarianism

our living room! hanging out on friday night

bikes!

the ladies at (delicious) dinner