weekend in nairobi, take 1.

This past weekend was lovely and full of new friends in Nairobi. Friday afternoon, Federico and I went to Nakumatt to get party preparations and it felt good, to be in a friend’s car and buying food and beer for expecting guests. I took advantage of bringing the car and bought a yoga mat (awkward to walk home with one of those here) and it will hopefully bring me endless happiness in the mornings before work. Then the festivities began. My “cooking” skills weren’t impressive enough for my Italian-born roommate, so he swiftly took over the pasta and I just made sure everyone had enough to drink and people to converse with. It was a wild success. I called upon every person in Nairobi I knew, even on the peripheral, and people came! and drank! and ate! and spontaneously danced even. Then we wandered out to the bar/night club that is a stone’s throw away and kept dancing. We got home and decided we would wait until morning to tackle the kitchen clean-up.

federico and i

beautiful ann

new friends

laura and two women from work, guarding the desserts

Saturday, I recovered. Went to breakfast with Ann and napped and read the news in bed. I also paid my rent. It’s really hard to pass the street kids here. Last year, in Eldoret spending time at Tumaini minimized the wealthy, white-person guilt I felt when walking around town. The town was small. I knew (some of) the street kids, and I knew just enough Swahili to joke and I felt okay buying them a loaf of bread, ‘cause I knew on Monday they would put down their glue bottles for a few hours and come do math problems. In Nairobi, it’s completely different. I don’t know anyone I pass on the street. The kids anxiously skip across the street to strategically position themselves in my path and look as helpless as possible and put out their hand. And I greet them and it’s always followed by “sina pesa, pole.” But that is a big ole lie. I turned down two street kids while I walked with my month’s rent IN CASH in my backpack. As if there was any doubt, I pay more in monthly rent than most Kenyans make in a year. It just makes me feel dirty. Lying to an 8 year old. But the alternative is impossible. I can’t give out money, ‘cause then I’ll just perpetuate the problem of white people being banks. And I only have 4 t-shirts here, so I think word would spread and the kids would start to recognize me. “Oh! the mzungu that hands out 20 bob when she walks from the nice mall to her nicer apartment! She’s there!” Wealth disparity is just very in your face in Nairobi. But, I’d prefer the daily reminder over putting poor children on a bus and shipping them out of town. (which I’m sure they do anyway, I’m just naive). I’m comfortable. I made my bed of luxury, I need to lay in it.

Following my inner monologue about my wealth situation, I went to a graduation ceremony from the Kibera Film School (a production company who has made this great film, Togetherness Supreme) with Federico where he was the “Chief Guest”. We, sadly, didn’t know how important he was and were 2 hours late to the event. Africa-time got the best of us. We failed. But he gave a speech and was such a good Chief Guest. That night the internet entertained me and I fell asleep early.

the chief guest!

screening the short films

Sunday I woke up and went on a hike with new-friend-from-DC, Matt, who I met at the film school the day before, his Kenyan roommate and two British girls who are hanging out in Kenya working for various NGOs and backpacking around. It was a good long walk in the sun in the Ngong Hills (about 30 mins outside of Nairobi). We wandered over 1 hill (there are 8, and we arrogantly thought we could conquer them all), came back to my apartment and went for a swim and then had dinner at the place across the street. My apartment could use a little cleaning, I will do that tonight. It was interesting to spend a day with transient people with backpacks. I don’t live here for long, but I do live here right now, and I have to get up early every morning and put on my Gap clothes and go to work. Every day. Monday through Friday. For really the first time in my adult life. Spending the day with them was just like being forced to see how I’m changing a bit.

a view from the base of hill #1

progress in the ngong hills

I think I would love this video. But the internet has taken 2+ days to load it, and I may never get to know, but you can fill me in on how wonderful it is.

and i got justin's birthday present, and it warmed my heart.

tgif

"i don't need friends, i have a usb modem"-anonymous

It is Friday here. It will be Friday where you are in 10 hours or less! (the world is so small) This week passed without much happening, but it flew by. The highlight was finding an old college friend that coincidentally lives down the street from me! So we had dinner and it was nice to catch up on the past 4 years, she writes for the Enough! Project, and you can read her good work here. I also got lights put in above my cubicle. I think the handy man took a light from 4 fixtures around the office and combined them above my cubicle, but whatever gets the job done. There has also been less traffic on the road. It is hypothesized that it's because it's the end of the month and people can't afford gas money until their next paycheck.

Otherwise, I read a lot of blogs. And this article by Kristof about Catholic Hospitals. Learned a bit about Microsoft Access to build databases. G-chatted all day with other fellows at desks around E. Africa. Listened to this song a lot. Read this article about the culture of elitism. Quote: "The main culprits turn out to be people for whom a monied and therefore educated background lies behind the adoption of aesthetic, intellectual, or political values that demur from the money-making mandate that otherwise dominates society." (I keep a blog, about my comfortable (adventurous?), brief life in a foreign place, made possible by my graduate school grant, i think i may fall into this). I bought some books. I ate (early) Valentine's Day candy (thanks, mom!). And I ran on the treadmill for a combined total of 35 minutes (probably over 3 days). I went to the orphanage and held a chubby baby boy until he fell asleep. It was a good week though. Scheduled and robotic. The kind of time that makes me feel as though I am building a resemblance of a life here.

I also discovered this fact sheet on my desk, which shows where most refugees are resettled from in Africa:

there is a mzungu sleeping on the bus

and i know i can leave in the night, just a moment in time, a moment in

time, don't be scared of what you find, in the night. [us royalty]

After finishing my second work week, i left on a night bus to head to jinja, uganda to meet up with the other fellows and indulge myself on rolex's (a chapati with nutella and a banana = kind of awesome), white backpackers and beer. Moral of the story is the bus was completely harmless. I was the only white person on the bus, which essentially meant i did not go unnoticed. there was a rumor going around the CDC about travelers who shook hands with a stranger, then felt woozy and woke up to find their belongings gone. The scientific rationale for said scam seemed debatable as we discussed it, yet when my bus neighbor sat down and offered his hand to introduce himself, I was a little weary (i am a sucker for urban legends, i have only ever flashed someone driving without headlights maybe once). But, I shook his hand. and LIVED! Huzzah! and I took a nap and woke up to my wallet and passport and camera exactly where I had left them! Praise Jesus.

The bus was comfortable. The seats are constantly in a super reclined position, just like a bed in first class. Before we left we said a prayer for a safe journey, and the conductor gave a little speech that ended with, "...i hope you have an enjoyable ride, even if the road is in terrible condition." I fell asleep immediately and slept like a baby the whole way. I was pushed awake at the border (4:20am) and when I stumbled to the border agent at the window, he said "Oh! We heard there was a mzungu asleep on the bus." I can only imagine the gossip train that took place before I got there between the passengers, the driver, the money exchangers and the random people that congregate. I also had a man on my bus wearing a stunning 1984 Nike track jacket that was brightly colored. I just followed him for the border crossing, and never got lost. Even in the dark.

eastern uganda speeding by at sunrise

I made it to Jinja (the main mode of transportation are boda bodas, or motorcycle taxis, so, again I'm sorry for breaking the "no-motorcycle" rule, dad. but they're just SO FUN) I met up with Christina and we had coffee and wandered into town and through the market and had chicken for lunch and the roads were so dusty that every time we got to our destination Christina has a layer of red dust on her face (she sat in the middle of the motorcycle, therefore I got to use her as a shield)

sitting over the nile and waiting for jinja to wake up

just being stereotypical in a coffee shop

christina with new friends in the market

omg. shoes.

That night, Jonathan arrived (for those that are concerned, he survived the rafting and in standard fashion, was underimpressed) as did Wingo, Becca and Purser. We spent that night meeting new people (plenty of Americans, as the Peace Corps Uganda team was also camping out at the hostel), drinking beer, dancing, talking and having an all-around carefree, white-person-in-a-foreign-hostel-experience. The next morning, my headache, rolex, Jonathan and I got in a matatu and rode the hour back to Kampala. We had a lovely burger at a Japanese restaurant (Sushi? in Uganda?) then parted ways.

a view from inside the safari tent

jonathan and wingo outside of the tent, on our lil porch

...it'll make you lazy?

I wandered to the old taxi park when you can get a matatu going more or less anywhere. Organized chaos, definitely. But, I found my bus to head to Entebbe (the airport is an hour or so outside of Kampala) and napped and then got off and wandered to the beach front and sat for 2 hours, napping, reading, and taking a soda (I may turn into a bottle of Coca-Cola before too long). I am half-way through The Road to Hell by Mike Maren and so far the take away messages are: NEVER, EVER work for Save the Children. And that the politics of development work fueled the crisis in the Somalia in the 80s and 90s. And if you're working on your MPH in Global Health and have life-long aspirations of working "in the field" you may want to further develop your justification for said activity or find a career change so you don't look like an idiot. (errr, awkward.)

from the vault: justin in front of the old taxi park in 2005

a view of the lake

where i camped out for the afternoon

Otherwise, I am almost done with Season 1 of Mad Men, and I am hooked! I downloaded a lot of jams from here: www.thisbandissick.com. I learned how much Asian-Pacific geography I don't know: Nauru, Kiribati, Niue and Borneo, to name a few. I read about how if you're not on Facebook in Tunisia, you just may miss out on the revolution. I went out to a delicious dinner with my roommate and his brother and girlfriend who have since left Nairobi to head back to Spain. I looked at these photos from Cote d'Ivoire. I toyed with the idea of getting up at 5am to watch the State of the Union. I had a few meetings and played around in Excel with DHS data re: resettled refugees. I ate a lot of fruit from the canteen on the KEMRI campus and
enjoyed the candy my mom sent in my birthday package.

how to write about africa

..note that 'People' means Africans who are not black, while 'The People' means black Africans....In your text, treat Africa as if it were one country. It is hot and dusty with rolling grassland and huge herds of animals and tall, thin people who are starving...Don't get bogged down with precise descriptions. Africa is big: fifty-four countries, 900 million people who are too busy starving and dying and warring and emigrating to read your book (err, blog)...Make sure you show how Africans have music and rhythm deep in their souls, and eat things no other humans eat...Make sure you show that you are able to eat such food without flinching, and describe how you learn to enjoy it--because you care...Animals, on the other hand, must be treated as well rounded, complex characters...they have family values... Elephants are caring and good feminists...Never say anything negative about an elephant....You'll also need a nightclub called Tropicana where mercenaries, evil nouveau riche Africans and prostitutes and guerrillas and expats hang out...Always end your book with Nelson Mandela saying something about rainbows or renaissances. Because you care. [Binyavanga Wainaina]

guilty as charged. the whole hilarious, satirical piece is here. i had read it before, but now my roommate gave me a little book of perfect stories accurately describing and poking fun at our time here. and then there is this lady's kenyan guide to kenya, "if you're bored in kenya it's because you're dead." read it.

this week I learned that you know you are working for a government agency when:
1. you get reprimanded by the parking lot security guards for taking a picture without a written letter.
2. you need a badge to show your legitimacy.
3. most doors are locked at all times.

#1 actually happened. But, I "deleted" the photos and swore it wouldn't happen again. If you can believe it, contrary to American paranoia, I have no plans to deface the building or harm anyone inside. I just wanted to show my mommy all the way back in America where I'm working, you can understand that, right? That was a minor setback and if I can't take photos I don't know how I'm going to submit those required 6 photos to the Department of Global Health. First World Problems.

the refugee health team

a view of the driveway in KEMRI

My 26th Birthday passed here without much fanfare. I cannot thank ya'll enough for the notes and facebook postings and ecards. It made being so far away tolerable. I may have hung out on my couch with Don Draper for three hours, but I didn't feel alone. I got to see the face of a few important people, including my mom (who had a cupcake with a candle and a chorus to sing happy birthday!), the littlest sis, and a dozen curious villagers in Jimmi. My roommate's visiting, Italian parents made me pizza and I had a beer on my balcony in 70 degree weather.

Additionally, grooveshark works on the work computer! hooray! So, I dug up some unknown Florence + the Machine jams, Four tet and listened to the Naked and Famous. all day.

And how excited are you that the pandas get to stay in D.C?! yay, China! and I was confused by Tunisia, but this helped.

nimerudi eldy

and all that lingers is the scent of you. i once swore if i threw that scent into a wishing well, all the wishes in the world would come true [ag]

I feel at home here, and I always forget that at first. That feeling of comfort washed over me again somewhere between Kibera and the Spree dance floor in Eldoret. I know just enough Swahili to be amusing (a useful blend of slang and 14 words not used since the 1996 Swahili grammar book was written) and just enough about a Kenyan way of life to feel safe but still interested. I'm always interested.

Jonathan arrived on Thursday night without incident and my friend and go-to taxi driver, Daniel, was pleased to ask him if he was excited to see "so many black people in one place." Friday morning the CDC was nice enough to give me the day off, so we got to go on adventures! We had brunch at Java House (where I ran into Jani from Eldoret, small world? country? town?) then boarded the matatu and headed to the giraffe center. Giraffes are quite pretty and have fuzzy lips. Then we wandered through the slum of Kibera. I got sunburned and enjoyed shooting the breeze with an older woman who wanted to either 1. come back to the US on my back or 2. marry Jonathan. The slum is a busy, energetic place and we were lucky enough to stumble on a soccer (football! sorry) game. That night we went over to a new friend's house for dinner with my ole pal Mwangi, where we met a fabulous Kenyan woman who took us to a club opening (read: we were the only white people and got Tuskers on the house for a few hours) then we staggered to the dance club and made it home with my roommate at 4am. It was a nice visit. I hope Jonathan would agree, but you can read about his impressions when he starts blogging (he told me it would be blesstherainsdowninafrica.blogspot.com).

jonathan feeding the giraffe

from above

necessary photo-op

the football field we stumbled upon

Saturday morning i hopped the shuttle for the 6 hour drive to Eldoret. My seat had a tiny little screw sticking through it though (someone forgot to measure the length of the screw and the seat before drilling), which made for a jarring ride. When I made it to Eldy, I had not been in town for more than 6 minutes before running into Andrew from Tumaini on the sidewalk. So, he showed me his shop and I got to see all the volunteers from Tumaini, a wonderful, initial reunion. That was the start to a perfect lil weekend in our old stomping ground. We went out to delicious Indian food, rode with Taxi Steve, danced at Spree (the renovations have made it quite the classy joint), played IU soccer and cruised around with Andrew and Jani in the farm truck. (For those that will know, I got to see Andrew, Jani, Enoch, William, Ann, Vivian, Jay, Marion, Andrew and Kimani--but everyone sends their love and it wasn't the same without you). The man who sold gum outside of the night club remembered who I was. The kitchen staff at IU House were so welcoming. The guards were still happy sitting in the sun with the dogs. It was if, at every turn, a Kenyan had a huge smile and a warm, reaffirming explanation as to why I love it here. At the risk of sounding ______, I catch myself often forgetting that I am white. I no longer recognize it when I am the only white person on the dance floor or a bus. My dance moves instantly remind me (and everyone around me) that I am a rhythm-less mzungu, but I still love being on the dance floor at Spree. It hasn't changed and there is a smell of thick air, (heavy) body odor and fun, and the music is still better than anywhere else.

old and new friends at mama mia's

little Michelle and her friend playing at Tumaini

one of the boys at Tumaini this morning

only white people take pictures of dogs (but it's Simba! all grown up!)

beautiful Marion and some of the kids

The most important thing I did in Eldoret was see Purity Regina and her now growing son, Leon. She did not come to Tumaini in the morning, so Kimani and I hopped on the piki-piki (a motorcycle, sorry dad.) and went down to "base" to find her. She came running up when she saw from across the river that we were there, and she was just a little shy and smiling and Leon was covered in boogers and dirt, but laughing and talking and he looks just like her and it was so wonderful to see her. She is a gorgeous girl. I also met her niece, who was born a few weeks after Leon and Purity told her sister to call her Lauren. So, I have a little namesake in the town of Eldoret. I hope Kenyans don't call her Maureen or Lawrence for the rest of her life. Purity and her friends then made fun of me for wearing the same red jeans (now with a hole in the knee) and Obama t-shirt almost a year later, they must be convinced I don't have any other clothes.

We rode to Purity Regina's home and then to the matatu stand where she has a small plot of land and will start selling Coca-Cola and snacks to travelers soon. She was just quiet and proud. Kimani talked about how her and I are really friends, so even if I don't have money now (the student loan thing resonated), one day when I can help more, I will never forget Purity. And he's right, and that felt good, because in varying degrees, we all knew it. Purity then giggled and pointed to her obligatory poster of a puppy licking a kitten with the line, "a friend is forever."

Purity, Leon, Lauren and I

my namesake!

There was this op-ed by Wangari Maathai about Kenya staying the course with the ICC indictment, that I read over my neighbor's shoulder today on the bus while jamming to countless, awesome mix CDs. I miss ya'll and D.C., and so you know, whenever I think of D.C. it is always warm and sunny and we are riding bikes to BBQs in my daydreams. I never think of the city in winter. And thankfully Anna is keeping me hip from across the pond, and I just can't. stop.listening. to this song.

Today was also "Blue Monday" according to a Kenyan radio DJ (and her cited psychologists), it was the most depressing day of the year. Because 1. you are in debt from christmas 2. you have already broken your new year's resolution and 3. it is so dry in Kenya, it's not helping anything. So, phef, I'm happy I survived this day with a smile on my face.

movin' and shakin'

i got thrown up on today. which, as life would have it, makes me pretty happy. i discovered an orphanage about a 4 minute walk from my apartment. similar to the sally test center from yester-year, as a mzungu i can go in and hold babies and sit with them and feed them bottles and help change them for bed. it's nice and comforting (and selfish) and it gives me something to look forward to at the end of the day. just a little unassuming love and some cuddles. and some throw up, of course. but i will look forward to spending time there, sitting and listening to the kenyan women gossip in Swahili.

today at the CDC was good though. i got out of the office and went to the IOM building and met with the Chief Medical Director for Sub-Saharan Africa and IOM's chief medical data person. It felt formal (we got a ride in a CDC car and needed a visitor's badge to be allowed in) and everyone couldn't have been more welcoming to me, the graduate student visiting from Washington. We discussed surveillance options for catching data on illnesses as refugees are in transit and various other seemingly important buisness.

We went back to the office to eat lunch (i made pasta! with vegetables! oh my!) then took another CDC car to the transit center. it's a big building near the airport where all refugees pass through for 5 days before flying on the U.S. or Canada. it was super interesting to me. i have heard stories of the transit center from refugees while working at the IRC and it was so awesome to see it, just something else i now may know a little bit more about. We arrived as a group of 35 Somali refugees were ready to leave. They were sitting in the courtyard with their suitcases, the children were dressed up in little suits and plenty of people were wearing their gifted red, white and blue sneakers. Some men had t-shirts with American flags and women were carrying bags with cheesy pictures of the White House and London on them. Everyone was excited. (Sadly, I think taking photos in such a place would make me look like a starry-eyed amateur.) I tried to tell a few people that South Dakota and Minneapolis are cold and they may want to swap out their flip-flops, but they were too overwhelmed to care.

It looks like i may be working on a surveillance database to examine the importance of the transit center. It's all quantitative stuff--not usually my cup of tea, i'm more of the behavioral, social, bleeding heart breed--but I figure I should learn about databases and collecting quantitative data while I have the opportunity. Refugees get examined for fevers, diarrhea, rashes, etc. to determine if they are "fit to fly." Some horror stories involve people that get stuck at the transit center for weeks, months or a year while they await treatment. We spoke to the doctor there and met with the Operation Staff that handles all the logistics. I hope i get to spend more time there. They do cultural orientation for 3 days at the center and i want to go back and sit in on and observe how refugees are taught about traffic lights and ATM machines and being on time to appointments. Ultimately, it's an exciting, bustling place; the first real step to starting a new life in America. Everyone's smiles were too genuine for me to tell them that the next year may be even more difficult than the last. At that moment they didn't want to hear that America is expensive and cold and jobs are scarce and bus routes can be complicated. They were certainly operating from their belief that this was the first day of the rest of their better life. And, in many ways, they are right. The 4-year old boy in the suit may be a high school soccer star someday and get to go to medical school in America.

In other (superficial?) news, the other day my water bottle opened in my backpack. My iPod was an immediate causality, which bummed me out. But! huzzah! I put it in a bowl of rice for 2 days and it works. Crisis adverted, I know you were worried for me. After that triumph, I did 30 minutes of my yoga dvd and am motivating to clean my room. I also found out that the CDC observes American and Kenyan holidays, naturally. That being said, I get MLK day off. Good excuse to play with babies and work on my tan (err, freckles).

Otherwise, this weekend will be great. I'm heading back to Eldoret and can't wait to see some old friends.

i'm an intern!

today was my first day at the CDC. it is a clean, official, american-looking office building on the KEMRI (Kenya Medical Research Institute) campus about 15 minutes from my apartment. I arrived and was introduced to a diverse staff of Americans and Kenyans, all wearing official badges and with immaculate English. I took an internet security training course (i.e. don't post sensitive, CDC material on facebook or blogs, don't give out your password to strangers, etc.) and received my very own laptop! I also got a .gov email address for all the important buisness I hope to handle one day. I was gifted a pizza lunch (with pineapple on it--an indulgence i am only comfortable with in Kenya) and talked with my two supervisors about the structure of the CDC-Kenya and what projects I will be working on.

Then I spent the majority of my afternoon sitting under a tree, cruisin' the net, and reading about technical instructions for TB detection for panel physicians during the pre-resettlement medical exam. once i get up to speed on what docs are supposed to do in order to test, asses and treat i will probably examine some medical documents from Atlanta and see if there are any gaps between what is supposed to be done and what is done during these exams. On Wednesday, we have a meeting with IOM (International Office of Migration), a big partner and will go to the Transit Center, which is where refugees are held for 5 days prior to flying for last minute screening for cholera, etc. I'm excited for that part. The office is fancy, my laptop works, and I didn't even break a sweat. I want to hang out with the refugees, so i'm looking forward to Wednesday.

then i got a ride home and walked to the grocery store (= i may grocery shop little by little, every day, just to give me something to do) and then my grandpa called. 4 times. we talked for about 45 seconds. i then went to the fancy restaurant and treated myself to dinner. i asked for the tomato and cheese sandwich and ended up with an avocado panini. naturally. the area of town i live in, about 1 in every 4 people i see in this mall-like-building nearby are white. so, even though in theory, while abroad it sounds appropriate to strike up a conversation with another lone-white-restaurant patron, it feels weirder in actuality. so, i ate alone, read the newspaper and wandered home. tomorrow, i have a hunch, will be pretty similar. personal excitement is limited when you should be safely indoors after dark.

i'm on my 4th episode of mad men, but the weather here is delightful!