Monday 30 January 2012

Saying Cya Later to my New Love

Oh what a bitter sweet week it has been saying good bye to the place and people that I have fallen so deeply in love with, while getting excited for the next leg of my journey.

I started the week after returning from my trip from Kisumu, which wsa amazing.  I got the chance to meet such amazing and inspirational people, and do some sight seeing as well!  I took some time to tour the Kakamega rain forest which is home to too many species of trees, plants and birds to count. Along with monkeys too! It was nice to be able to hike through such a beautiful and fresh place.  The highlight was my hike up to the highest point of the forest in the dark at 5am to see the sunrise. Amazing, beautiful African sky.  Then went into a cave 50m long.  My guide told me there were bats, and then all of the sudden I could feel them zooming by.  I kind of screamed a little, trying to duck and dodge the bats.  My guide laughed at me, asking why I was scared, and telling me the bats won`t touch me, don`t  worry.  Easy for him to say.

After getting back `home` to nairobi I basically was hanging out, trying to see as many people as I could to say good bye.  Spent a few late nights out enjoying Tuskers as well.  One of the days I headed out to the IDP Camp to interview some secondary students to see if we can try to get them sponsors from back home so they can continue their education.  While there I got some terrible news... almost half of the chickens we had bought for the second batch of families had all come down with some disease, likely somehting they had before and died... UH! But what can we do, I was leaving in two days and there was no way we would be able to buy new ones in time.  I feel terrible that now some families have to go without, but hopefully we can help in the future.  This is maybe alearning experience, so next time we can be more careful and ensure we inspect all chickens so one doesn`t get the rest sick.  I bought the group medicine to ensure the rest of the chickens dont fall ill and die also.

My last night in Kenya I wanted to be a traditional Kenyan evening.  We organized a night and got a bunch of the local staff and volunteers to go out for some good ole fashinon Nyama Choma complete with all the fixings. SO GOOD! We ate a million kgs of goat, beef and the most delicious chicken I have ever tasted.  Such a perfect way to spend my last night, but so sad as I had to say good bye to so many of the people there, especially the Fadhili staff who had been so amazing the entire time I was there. 

The next morning I left the house earlier than I needed to because I had a bunch oif errands to do before going (one including picking up my passport from the high commission of India, maybe important for the next 6 months). Saying good bye to my mamas was the worst.  It made it feel so much more final that I was actually leaving Kenya.  The moment I said goodbye to Milcah and gave her a hug I couldn`t hold it in anymore and sobbed like a little girl.  The both hugged me and told me not to cry, just like my real mama would do.  As sad as I am to be out of Kenya, I think maybe it was time.  I will miss it terribly, but I am excited for what the next chapter of my adventure holds :)


Adventures with Visas

Maybe it`s the procrastinator in me, or the optimist that assumes everything will always work out… but in 4 days I have had two close calls with not being given visas to enter two different countries.

My first adventure began with the Indian Embassay.  Even before leaving Canada (another vias experience I did at the last minute), I realized the visa I had been issued from Vancouver for India was going to expire in April, while I expect to be in India until May.  But at the time I assumed once I get to india I will simply be able to extend it.  Luckily, the Monday night beofre I left I was looking through my India travel guide and happened to read the visa portion and read that India doesn`t extend visas under any circumstance and a person must leave the country for two months before being issued another.  Another girl in the house who had already visited India said oh yes, India is very strict. Hmmm.  So the next day, Tuesday, I ventured to downtown Nairobi set to the High Commission of India. Along the way my brand new sandle broke… in downtown Nairobi.  No biggy, after some slicing and dicing with my trusty Swiss Army knife, I got it to function enough so that I wasn`t walking around bare foot. But the fact that I was walking around downtown Nairobi with a sandle barely staying together may have been an indication of how the rest of my day might unfold.

Explaining my issue to the men at the front desk they sent me to the visa office and told me to queue up. Getting into the queue at the visa office was confusing enough, but a nice young Indian man explained it to me, saying it`s the indian way.  There are rows of chairs and as each person goes up you move over a chair until you snake your way through to the front.  I rather enjoyed getting to sit while having to wait in a ridiculously long line. After making it to the front I was told that I was in the wrong line and would have to talk to the guy in the office.  After waiting more, I was met by a not so smily man who kept interrupting our conversation to answer the phone, in between which he told me there was nothing he could do.  I would have to either leave India for two months  once my visa expired and then go back or cancel my current visa, apply for a new one and wait.  No problem except the fact it would not be ready until Tuesday and I was reading out to Dubai Friday. After the man repeatidly told me there was nothing he could do, my eyes started to well up and all I could say was `nothing... there is nothing...`Seeing that I was clearly upset, he said he would let me talk to his supervisor who would likely not be back for an hour, and this was already after closing hours. But I was desperate and waited again.  Once again I was met by an even less smily man and the first unsmily man.  This man did not really listen to what I had to say.  Instead he lectured me on why I should not have applied for my visa so long ago, then about how I should have done this earlier and then about how inconsiderate I was for  coming so late (even though I had been there since 2). After agreeing with everything he said and admitting my own fault of putting it off and not fully understanding how the system worked, I was once again told it was impossible.  He said a few more lectures, and it was at this point that I couldn`t hold it back anymore and tears started coming down my cheek.  I reached for passport, squeeked out thanks for seeing me and started to leave. `Wait, wait, wait`says the second unsmily man.  After figuring out what time exactly I had to be out of Nairobi on Friday he agreed to ensure that it would be ready in time.  Also telling me that I shouldn`t cry.  As the other gentleman was helping me fill out my forms he asked why I didn`t just telephone to try and sort things out.  I didn`t want to say because clearly coming in and crying helped me get my visa easier than if I had just cried over the phone.  On my way home, two blocks from my apartment my sandle broke again.  The sweet Indian watchman at the hotel nearby saw my struggle, came over fixed my sandle and even wired it up so I can continue to wear it.  Oh, if all Indian men are this sweet I`m gonna be in for a treat.  After having to bring in other documents the following few days I began to be known at the high commission.  Luckily this meant no more lines as I was allowed to go right to the source JAnd as I was leaving the building Friday morning with Visa in hand the stern female security guard said with a smile, `finally you got it`.

Then it came to Dubai, Sharjah actually, to get my visa… I thought I had looked into the requirements and saw that I could purchase my visa upon arrival… but as I approached the immigration counter and handed over my passport, the woman looked at me and said where is your visa. Shit. Now what do I do! I was able to ask about a transit visa since I was only there for the weekend.  I had to wait another 3 hours but they gave it to me! I got into Dubai at 2am to my posh hotel and went to bed... in my own room! 

Wednesday 18 January 2012

Maasai land, more chickens and a new found love of ugali?

It's been an eventful few weeks, brace yourself, this is a long one.

Sadly, I am starting to fear that my Kenya adventure is winding down as I have only 10 days left in this beautiful country filled with beautiful people.  But that doesn't mean I'm winding down, in fact it is the total opposite!
My New Years was a jolly ole time spent at a outdoor type local bar with plenty of other volunteers and even more locals.  Once the festivities ended I wasn't exactly tired so I continued on with some of the local staff here.  We danced in up in a small, crammed even more local bar and finished the night off with nyama choma and ugali.  Likely the best choma and ugali I've ever had! I don't know if the fact that it was 4 am had anything to do with it.  For those of you who haven't had the pleasure of trying ugali, it is maize flour mixed in with boiling water to create a doughy pasty type cake that is eaten with meat, beans, kale, whatever really.

I started the new year off by switching volunteer placements to go out to maasai land, Saikeri to be exact.  I headed out there with Aussie Jane and American Colby, both very fine people, happy to be stuck with them :).  Our host mom, Maggie, is the head nurse at the government run clinic.  We also had Marcy who cooked all our meals for us, and showed us how to make chipatti, and her precious son Jabeth who just started preschool.  We were meant to be teaching, but since we aren't trained teachers we basically spent our days marking papers and giving extra help.  The fun parts came at break time when all the children would run up to us, stroke our skin, grab on to our hands and start to grill us with questions. "What's your name? What's your Maasai name? How old are you? Are you circumsized?" The last question was one that threw me off a little.  I explained to one boy who had asked that we don't do that in my country to girls because it is very dangerous.  He replied by telling me that my country is unsafe since we don't circumsize our girls... a clear cultural difference.  Maggie, our host, has a few words to say regarding this topic.  She is such an inspiration and leader in her community.  She is all about female rights in the Maasai community, making sure they are educated and letting them know their rights.  She even presented us with a great idea about turning one of the buildings into a boarding school for girls.  Many girls in the community walk for hours to and from the school.  This is a very danergous time, they are not educated about their rights about sex, nore do they know what sex really is and it's consequences.  The danger comes when they are approached by young men, and do not understand what is happening or how to say no.  Maggie told us that last year alone 7 girls dropped out of primary because of pregnancy. Thats grades 8 and lower.... I will keep you all posted on the progress of the planning for the boarding school in case you are interested in getting involved.

When the children asked what my Maasai name is, I would respond with the name I was given my first night in Maasai, Nosim.  I had to laugh a little when one of the school children, Margret, told me my name meant "someone who is always talking".   She explained that as long as I am around people I will be talking, and when I am alone that is the time I sleep. I don't think this name suits me at all. Margaret is another child that I got to know a bit more.  She was so welcoming and invited Jane and I out to her home to meet her family.  Of course we were greeted with chai by her mother, sister, uncle, step mother (father's second wife) and step brother (half brother).  All the children were so incredible out in Maasai land, so welcoming and so friendly.  After my two weeks were up the children of the class presented me with the bracelets and necklaces they had made for me and sang and danced for me, it was great.  I'm already missing Saikeri, the surroundings were absolutely breathtaking with clear stary skies at night and crisp fresh air to breath.  I will also greatly miss the people.  I loved going to the market on Tuesdays and Fridays just to see all the beautiful colours worn by the women.  The women there would always be outfitted in colourful Kangas, their stretched ears showing off the beautiful beaded earrings and theirs necks and arms covered with bright beaded jewelry.  Maasai land really confirmed the fact that I am not a city girl, and getting away from Nairobi made me MUCH happier.  Saikeri was peaceful, with afternoons spent reading and writting and then in the evenings playing a card game called "flower" with a big, burly, lovable Kenyan names Henry.  While the bucket showers and squat hole in the grounds didn't bother me, it may by the one part about Saikeri I will not miss.  At the end of the two weeks I made my way back to Nairobi via bodaboda (motorbike) along a very bumpy, rocky gravel road sans helmet, TIA.



I didn't stay in Nairobi long, the next day I was off to Mai Mahu at 6:30am to meet Rooney, the Kenyan man who had been helping Sam and I collect chickens back in December.  Saturday it was our mission to supply the remaining 30 families with 3 chickens each and buy a few extra for the nursery at the IDP camp.  A few hours later, combined with some Kenyan inefficiency, we got to the market...late.  Meaning that the bulk chickens had all been sold and now we were left to round up 100 chickens from all the men who would now be sell them 3,4,5 at a time.  We spent hours in the sun, but were able to get all 100 chickens that we needed, ensuring that we had the right number of males and females as each family was getting 2 females and 1 male.  We loaded our 100 chickens into the back of a Toyota corolla hatchback and headed off the the nearest town where we then transfered them into the boot of a matatu and strapped to the roof.



Because the market took so long we didn't get to the camp until after dark, but we were still met by smiling faces happy to welcome us back.  I spent the night in a nearby town and made my way back to the camp early in the morning to pass out chickens.  The people there were so greatful, as their names were called and they were handed the chickens they would turn to me in thanks.  Now I am passing this thanks onto all of those who contributed to my fundraising efforts.  I could never have funded this project on my own, and I am so grateful that everyone back home has contributed to helping to improve a the members of a community's lives.  All together we purchase 153 chickens with 4 unfortunate casualities and 5 gone lame, but all families still got their 3 chickens each. But the thank yous did not stop there.  I got the chance to go around the camp and see how some of the chickens were doing which we had gotten for the previous families.  Many have gotten to eat eggs and some had already even laid chicks!! EXCITING!  When I asked Rooney how many people ate chickens for Christmas dinner he looked surprised and exclaimed "none! I told them not to and that I would be checking to make sure they were using them for eggs and more chickens." Yeah to Rooney and the people for seeing how these chickens will continue to benefit them in the long run!


  < Young Rachel carring home a new chicken

While passing out the chickens, a young man from the camp shyly came up to me and asked to speak with me in private.  He told me about how he had been sent home from school last week in the first week of school because his parents were unable to pay the 13,800 Ksh (about 160CAD) for first term of his form 3 (grade11).  He asked if I may consider sponsoring him, so I said let's talk and followed him to his family's tent.  I was greeted by both his parents, who neither have a job at the moment and survive off of very little.  However, these people were SO welcoming and wanted to give me what little they had. I was handed a cup of chai and a tea biscuit, a typical breakfast for them.  They handed me his school forms and report card to look at.  It brought me back to the reality of these people's lives when under the line "Parent's Assets:" the word "nothing" was written. I looked at his straight A report card and immediately knew that this boy had to go to school.  He is the youngest of 7, and will be the first to complete secondary if he makes it through form 4.  One of the worst parts about it is that he almost made it through form 3, but since his fees were not paid in full he was unable to write the required exams to enter form 4 and therefore must do form 3 again.  But today I deposited 26,600 Ksh into the school's bank account to pay for the rest of his form 3 year.  I have outlined to him that if he performs well, and gets good marks I will sponsor him through form 4 as well.  This is once again thanks to everyone else.  You are educating someone who would otherwise have to unvoluntarily drop out of school.  It  has become SO clear while I am here that the BEST way to help Africa is to educate their young people.  This was all so inspiring to me that my brain started to do some turning and I am thinking of ways that we will be able to send more of the children from the IDP camp to secondary, because Isaiah's family is not the only ones in this situation. 
 < 18 year old Isaiah and his parents in the tent they have been living in for 4 years.

When I first got to Kenya with my pocket full of fundraised money I kept searching for some fantastic way to spend it, but was coming up empty handed.  Through working with the people at the IDP camp I have learned that instead of looking to be inspired, you simply have to listen for it.  People will tell you what they need, whether directly or indirectly.  While I thought I was entering every situation with no expectations and my ears wide open, I wasn't.  It wasn't until recently that I have actually started to do this and I am having the most incredible feelings and inspirations all around me!

As I was leaving, Esther, one of the women from the camp who weaves purses wanted to know when I would return to Kenya because she wanted to make me a special bag.  Since it likely won't be for about a year or so she gave me one she had already made "a year is to long!" she said.  She literally has nothing but wanted to give me a gift to show her appreciation. These people are too much for me, I cannot get over their overwhelming kindness and welcoming spirits.

It breaks my heart that these wonderful people are forced to endure such unbearable conditions all because of the tribal conflict and post election violence 4 years ago! And now they have to fear what will happen in the election that will be happening at the end of the year.  They constantly say they can only pray and hope for the best.

After getting home Sunday afternoon, I was off again Sunday night on an overnight bus to Kisumu! In case you are wondering I have been doing these excursions as a solo traveller, but I have been very safe!  I arrived to the bus station at 5am and because it was still dark i caught a few extra hours of sleep in the secure waiting room.

The reason I came to Kisumu was to visit a community support center for orphans and children who have been affected by HIV/AIDS, called St. Rita. I got a chance to meet Bernadette Otieno, the inspiring woman who started it all. She told me how they offer support to these orphans in the way of uniforms, school fees, books and feeding programs when the funds allow for it.  I also got to meet a new friend, Naomi who is a recent social worker graduate who volunteers with St. Rita simply because she loves children.   Later in the day Naomi and I ventured down to the shore of Lake Victoria, the source of the Nile.  The shore is lined with tin shacks, boasting plastic furnite and loud women shouting at every passer by to come into their restaurant. There we ate fresh Tilapia, with skumaweeki and ugali.  Yes, I ordered the ugali willingly, and I enjoyed it! Strange things happen once you've been in Kenya for a few months.  While we enjoyed the beautiful view and semi-relaxing atmosphere, I couldn't help notice the issue of street children.  Some looking as young as 11, seen huffing glue to get drunk and acting as if they have no clue what is happening.

 I also met Ruth, an HIV positive woman who is the mother of 7 and her last born is in the St. Rita program.  She told me of her struggles with her husband, who liked more than one woman as she put it.  She used to fight him, until one woman told her it's best to just go along with it, do what he says  and stay out of his way, or she'll die.  While her husband has passed, and those troubles are behind her, she still faces difficulties everyday trying to put food on the table for herself and her older children.  The principle of the nearby school also told me of a young girl who has just completed her class 8 and is waiting to see if there will be enough money for her to go to secondary.  She is a bright girl who scored 403/500 (a VERY good mark) who has been dealt a tough hand.  She lost her mom when she was 7 months, her father when she was 4, both of her sisters and then her guardian who had taken her in.  She now lives with her grandmother and works at a makeshift restaurant.  I also met two young boys who's mothers are living positive.  When I asked them what they liked to do in their spare time they told me they enjoyed cooking and cleaning and taking care of their mothers. Not the answer I was expecting from 11 and 12 year old boys.  St. Rita has helped these children in so many ways, and I love that their major emphasis is EDUCATION, EDUCATION, EDUCATION.  They have even assisted some of the kids through university.  While most organizations stop helping once the child is 18, Bernadette says she sees no benefit to that, you must continue the support as long as the child works hard.  She has truly changed lives, but like all organizations they are constantly in need of funds, let me know if you want to help, or check out their website, www.strita.info/ . I had a tough time listening to everyone's stories, as their challenges and struggles are of a nature we would rarely see in Canada.  I've learned I can't assist everyone, but I can't help but feel helpless when I am being told some of these stories.

Naomi and I spent more of our time sitting by the lake and just hanging out.  While Kisumu is a city, it has a much calmer feel to it than Nairobi, and that I appreciate about Kisumu.

I could continue to describe more of my experiences, but I think I've gone on long enough for now.  Heading of to the Kakamega rain forest tomorrow for a more touristy experience.  Fill ya in later!