not malaria

I'm a horrible patient. I absolutely hate being sick and i whine a lot and feel sorry for myself. Yesterday evening i spent almost 4 hours in the hospital. I left work after a mere hour of computer-time 'cause i was feverish and had muscle aches and was getting dizzy. i came home, slept soundly and watched some mad men. then federico came home. federico, i learned (rightfully so?) is terrified of malaria. we sat at our kitchen table and did a rapid self-administered test that he had in his closet. it was a sight. me: in sweatpants, feverish, trying to make jokes and federico reading the instructions and wondering why my finger isn't producing enough blood for the test. We had to prick my finger 4+ times to get a solid drop of blood.

It was negative, but we went to the hospital anyway. we waited. i got more blood taken. we watched bad mexican soap operas dubbed in english. we waited some more. federico had to leave. i waited more. the test came back and it was negative! i took a taxi home and went to bed. it cost me $60 to quickly meet with a doctor and learn i didn't have malaria.

This past weekend, I went on a couple adventures. My buddy Matt and I and Co. went to another part of Nairobi for roasted goat meat. We sat in the little hotel and waited for our selection to be cooked. (You go to the butcher, chose your meat, then wait in the hotel while they cook it) It took a couple hours, so we had some beer and watched the news in Swahili with drunk Kenyan men then we braved the matatu back at night, which is actually fine, I've just gotten quite used to tucking my cell phone and credit card in my bra (if I am to be robbed, at least I can call someone and take out money?) Then on Saturday I went to Eldoret for a night. I saw Regina and Leon and sat with her and her soda-selling business. I went out to spree with a few good people. I had a nice mama mia's lunch with Jani. I stayed at a hotel in town that had "free" breakfast. The room where you ate breakfast had praise-jesus music playing by 6am, a huge mural of a N. American-looking lake and mountain vista and a half-full fish tank with 2 goldfish. It was classy. I also rode the bus for 5 hours each way. On the way out to Eldoret I sat in the middle of two men. Kenyan's don't like a windy bus ride, I've learned. So, it's a constant passive aggressive fight about much to keep the window open. I would love the window all the way open. It's warm out, let's feel the breeze in our hair, eh? But, no, Kenyans like to keep the windows closed. It's warmer, not as a noisy, etc. So, the politically correct thing to do is wait till the window-sitter has fallen asleep then if you're in the middle, you can adjust the window. I did it. On the way back to Nairobi I had the window seat and every time I woke up from a doze, the window was closed. It's a fun game.

I also walked around Eldoret all morning long (the hotel was LOUD by 6am, so I didn't have much choice). I got shamelessly heckled until I found a nice bench that was secluded and I sat there and daydreamed for over an hour. An elderly woman and her grandson came in and sat down. He was so sweet to her until she couldn't find her change in her purse. I adored the whole scene. I eavesdropped for too long. She sat, hunchbacked, in an old sweater and drank a big bottle of Coke and had a muffin. Too cute.

My camera battery charger is missing, so no photos for awhile. I've been listening to this song a lot. Read this article about yoga. And, that's all I got. Nursing a mild illness is pretty boring.

wish i could be back for LCD Soundsystem

you spend the first five years trying to get with the plan, and the next five years trying to be with your friends again

i’ve been working on this post for awhile. mostly in my head, while jotting down an idea here or there. the past six weeks have been pretty influential in my deciding what I want, professionally and personally. After this internship, I timed it so I have a month to live out of a backpack and bum around a corner of this globe. I was meant to head to SE Asia, join the other hundreds of backpackers and eat delicious, cheap Thai food, see some temples and maybe check out a few beaches. As the decision time crept up on me, I wasn’t too keen on spending another month schmoozing with strangers. Everyone I have met is in some way beautiful and interesting and humorous, but the conversations begin to sound similar: How long have you been here? Where are you from? Where do you plan to go next? Do you want to share a taxi? What do you do (fill in: professionally? for fun? when it rains?)? Do you have a book you want to swap? So, SE Asia will have to wait (maybe subconsciously it just didn’t seem right to go without you, Justin).

So! New plan! (STA student, flexible refundable tickets are so.... flexible!) I am going to leave Nairobi and go loiter in Kampala for a few days with Jonathan. I plan to ride his bike and finish whatever book I’m reading at that point. Then I will fly to Johannesburg (and leave immediately, it’s been suggested) to make my way down the coast to Cape Town. That’s all I know. I’ll find a few hostels, ride some buses and see a piece of this continent I have only heard about. Then I will arrive in Cape Town and meet Grace (and her lovely Kigali friends) and venture into the desert for Afrika’s Burning Man. Jonathan will wander up at some point and meet us as well. Assuming I come out alive and with my mental state intact, I will drive up the Garden Route with that crew in that big yellow van that is currently under construction. After that fun, music-filled, hazy adventure I plan to return to Sierra Leone. I’ll make my way back to Evan’s village and spend a glorious week there doing everything (and nothing) I did last time. That place is every idealistic idea I have of Africa and I miss it. They also give Americans a year-long, multi-entry visa and I suppose I should get my money’s worth. Oh, and there’s Evan. A pretty cool kid, whose company I enjoy immensely every time we’re able to get together. So, I figure it’s worth it to run with a good thing.

(also, because of the funding for this kenya fellowship, i got a significant amount in student loans. i may be in debt for the rest of my life, but at least i'll have some good memories, right?)

Then I will return to D.C. (the night of May 14th, mark yer calendars!) Indefinitely. Yes, that’s right. I plan to brave a D.C. winter with ya’ll once and for all. I’ll look for a full-time job or internship (anything to be back with the refugees at the IRC) and hunker down. I enjoy it there. The little lives we’ve carved out for ourselves are quite perfect. And bicycles don’t go as fast on unpaved roads. And shamelessly dancing on U Street soothes my soul. And DC's slam poetry keeps me conscious. But, seriously, this trip has presented me with an quarter-life crisis. I am not sure being an aid worker in Africa is doing much good. And the life I have had this time around, although educational and independent has raised more questions than answers. Even as I attempt Swahili and eat with my hands and make all of those self-serving sacrifices, I am still an outsider. I can feel at home here, but perhaps that’s not the most important point. It was never supposed to be about me. So, although I love the romance and the adventures of an unreliable infrastructure, I also know it’s not going anywhere. Even if I’m okay at it and comfortable with the whole notion of living in another culture and place. Kenya will always be (too) welcoming. A new NGO will continue to crop up every week, started by hard-working and idealistic (sometimes naive?) people and USAID will continue to fund them. Ex-pats will continuously sit around with their $7 bottle of wine and discuss Kenya’s troubles and successes, as if they are our own. I need to formulate a stronger opinion and gain some more experience before I sit there. So, I will table my ideas of a foreign job for the meantime. I can always (and will) come back. It is my home away from home, after all.

hold me back

so much fun stuff has happened in the last 4 days! i watched blue valentine (sad. right?) i made sweet potato fries successfully. i ran on the treadmill faster than usual (after it dawned on me my "running" was more or less a glorified speed walk). i examined medical forms at work. i listened to the new radiohead album on repeat. i ate dinner with federico and his two spanish friends, who spoke english to soothe my ignorant soul. i watched thom yorke dance. i tried to understand the wikipedia page on quantum mechanics (which was a waste of my time). i found this article helpful in summarizing all the action happening in the middle east. i read some of a book and drank a lot of instant coffee. i got a bonnaroo ticket. i thought about the people of christchurch. and watched as the week went by. i am half done with my time in nairobi and my student loan check cleared, so i can now plan and purchase my future adventures (!!)

a country with a thousand hills

Immediately after Kakuma, I boarded a tiny, old-timey, UN prop plane and got back to Nairobi and rushed from one airport to the other for a flight into Kampala. Traffic was horrible. Stress was high. I arrived though, and the flight was an hour delayed. Silly of me to think otherwise.

I arrived in Kampala on the eve of their presidential election to meet Jonathan, get a couple of beers, dance to a couple of songs and board a bus to Kigali on Friday morning. We had our tickets in hand and piled on a motorbike and got to the bus station with time to spare:
"What time does the bus leave for Kigali, sir?"
{woman next to him} "Eh?! Tsssst."
"I'm not sure what that means.."
"No bus to Kigali today. Your tickets are wrong."

Perfect! crisis adverted though, we hopped on another dodgier bus and sat (quite crowded) for 8 hours to a town named Kabale, where our plan was to hop various public transport the remaining 2 hours into Kigali. Like a guardian angel though a man approached us and asked if we wanted a ride to Kigali for $5. Yes! He had recruited two other Ugandans working in Rwanda who had come home to vote that morning and we had a lovely, comfortable, effortless ride into Rwanda. We talked about Obama (as one does), and how the ripple of that election was felt by African men everywhere ("Everyday I think, if Obama can do it {insert an accomplishment}, so can I.") He even dropped us off at the restaurant Grace was working at. Door to door service. Hospitality as only Africans know how.

jonathan (and his man purse) with our chariot

Friday night was lovely. The hospitality only continued. The people Grace has surrounded herself with are funny and smart and generous and wonderful company. We sat and ate delicious food (theme of the weekend) and then went out, danced a bit, found a Rwandan man who thought Jonathan was "so special," then wandered back to their patio and sat up talking till the early morning eating passion fruit. Saturday we lounged. We picnicked. We ran errands. We sat and drank iced coffee and passion juice for hours. Then we went to eat some more. A wonderful restaurant on a hill where a giant (i mean humungous) fish is served whole with potatoes and you dig in with your hands and you leave feeling gluttonous, but happy. Saturday night a movie was projected and we lounged (do you also notice a pattern?) in the living room on big mattresses.

brunch picnic in grace's garden

the inside of a big yellow van that will safely guide fun-loving people around s. africa (it's coming along nicely)

a lovely fish dinner overlooking kigali's lights in the background (if you squint you can see everyone in the darkness)

Sunday we woke up! And went on a road trip! In a convertible! Out to Kibuye, which is on Lake Kivu. It borders Congo. It was a scene of horrible crimes in '94. It is painfully beautiful. You should read the wikipedia page. We stopped at a church that I went to 6 years ago. Six years ago I found a dance troupe of young girls singing hymns on the balcony, this time the church was still beautiful, but quiet. As we frantically snapped pictures, however, the man in charge told Shawn if we were really there to take pictures in the house of God, we may want to move on. Noted. Sometimes I forget that churches aren't simply a nice piece of architecture for me to gawk at while on vacation in a foreign place. There is a lot of faith in those walls.

grace and i in the back of the convertible

a view from the car

raph and the car that got us there

what all of rwanda looks like: green and hilly

the inside of the church

more food!

a view of lake kivu

Then we just sat by the water and ate fried fish and drank beer. We ended the experience with a walk out to the peninsula and a lovely, star-filled, music-packed, windy, 3-hour ride back into Kigali. The city they call home is gorgeous. You could eat off the streets they are so clean. (although, not without controversy) Rwanda does not allow plastic bags. The motorcycle drivers are required to have helmets (even for passengers!). The police do not take bribes. There is no traffic. Rwanda drives on the right (as in the direction, not necessarily 'correct') side of the road. The Rwandan people were found to be a bit more cold than Kenyans. Kenyans want to chat and joke and dance and flirt and Rwandans seemed to be a bit more reserved. Quieter. The whole city was quieter.

It was a perfect weekend. A lovely vacation. My cell phone didn't work. I attempted to remember 4 words of French. The company was wonderful. It made me happy to be here.

kakuma, in 4 pictures

well, the internet is slow, folks. but here are 4 photos from my recent trip up north:

obama street is THE street

all for you, dgh. (the driver strategically placed the van so we could get as many NGO signs as possible in one photo)

the night sky. the photo does not do justice, unfortunately

the IOM staff compound, i stayed in a room off to the right

kakuma update

When I learn something new, I just want to post it. To give validity to my experience, perhaps. Today was another good day on the camp. I cruised in the Land Cruiser (pun intended) to the IOM sub-office where they do the medical review and interviews for the refugees. I rode with them to pick up a family of 4 who were on their way to America. I sat with them in the car and watched as their neighbors surrounded the van, crying and saying goodbye. The 14 yr-old girl had henna done all over her hands and feet, new sparkly sandals (which gave her blisters) and bright pink lipstick on. It was really the first day of the rest of her life. It also suggests that really, Somali or American, 14 yr old girls are all kind of the same. It still chokes me up: the excitement, the uncertainty, the hope, maybe that's how I know I'm on the right career path: I still really dig refugees and their complex experiences. Then I wandered to the best restaurant in the camp, Francos, for some Ethiopian (I can't get enough). Then I had an hour to kill before my van came to "pick me," so I walked and sat in some man's shop and talked about how he has been here for 20 years, how he has a lot of family in Maryland (sponsored by the IRC!), he speaks 4 languages, and he will sell all of his hundreds of onions by the end of the week. My Swahili is enough to get in the door. I also sat and watched a (presumably) crazy Turkana woman dance in the middle of the road, sweat pouring off her, oblivious to the people that walked passed and chuckled. Then the charismatic IOM nurse came and got me and we rode to visit a shop in town where they are making crafts out of camel and cow bones. i bought a key chain.

'fugees

there is nothing like returning to a place that has remained unchanged and seeing the ways in which you yourself have altered [mandela. i may be paraphrasing]

I am back in the Kakuma Refugee Camp in northwestern Kenya. I spent 3 (now knowingly clueless) weeks here in 2005 as part of my study abroad program. We spent days wandering around the camp, using the internet, eating food and feeling lost, just looking for (what i now know are called) informants. Today I got mildly scolded for wandering out into the camp alone. In broad daylight. Now that I am a guest of IOM, I am a security risk. Yet, I enjoyed every second I was out and about. People talk to you, as they are kind of confused to see a white person on foot (due to IOM/UNHCR security precautions). And I purposefully wore my Obama t-shirt, which is always a crowd pleaser. I'd prefer to be called "Obama!" from across the road than "mzungu!" I wandered through the dust and took some Ethiopian dish with brown, liquid, spicy goat fat and njera and watched music videos of a voluptuous woman singing and aggressively shaking her shoulders in about 62 different outfits.

The camp hasn't changed that much. It is still diverse ("oh, you want njera, mzungu? you must walk this way {points} to Ethiopia"--apparently I was in the S. Sudan region) with thousands of refugees and Turkana people milling about. And people are living their lives. For decades. The money is soft and light brown in color, not like newly printed money we get in Nairobi. I gave a man a dime today 'cause he said he will get resettled to America. I figured when his federal assistance runs out after 8 months, maybe a dime will mean something. My room is air conditioned though, lest I melt in the hot, dry climate. But, I love being out of Nairobi and seeing something different and new.

My flight here was harmless, as was the two hour land cruiser ride with 5 kenyan colleagues across the desert. The conversation was priceless. I heard about how Bill Gates made a killing off Y2K by designing "viruses" then selling people programs to get rid of them; if the weather got as cold in Africa as it did in the D.C. people here would have to adapt and would spend more time inside thinking of new ideas and Africa would be more developed; email reached Kenya in 1996 and that made it easier to communicate faster (text messaging made it easier to get the ladies. it was informal and no one cares if you spell incorrectly); the Luos physically fought their future brother-in-laws to show their strength and ability to care for their desired wife ("now, it is still the same, eh? it is just with chocolates and not physical force.")

the guy next to me had just been in D.C. last week and said it was TOO COLD.

this past weekend was low-key. lots of sleeping in. movie watching (true grit and when harry met sally--always a classic). A few of us went out to an Ethiopian dinner and dancing Saturday night (dance jams included billy ocean's top 40) and I was home by 2am. The Valentine's Day was lovely. Ann came over and we indulged in mac 'n cheese and sweet red wine. It had unexpectedly poured in Nairobi and I was glad I brought my rain boots and hat and hiking pants, as I trudged to the grocery store unaffected by the mud, like a warrior.

welp, now i'm alone in my IOM, air conditioned room. What to do now? I think i'll wander out for a soda.

(i'll upload enough photos to wet your whistle when i'm not paying for the internet)