Wanna Fanta!

So I know some may be curious as to the cuisine I have been encountering. As I previously had eluded to a 7 month pregnant belly, I will assure you all it is an Ugali baby. Not one that will be walking and talking in 2 months time.

Ugali is a main staple in the Kenyan menu. It is what rice is to the Asians… A lifesource.

For those who attended my mother’s African extravaganza and tasted the Ugali she had attempted, it surprisingly was quite accurate. Pretty much it is a giant ball of maize flour extremely similar to cream of wheat without the fixins’.

It is served in a giant dome and then you cut a slice to be transferred to your own plate. It is used as the utensil for the meal. It is the transportation vessel for all the other goodness to move from plate to mouth.

The ‘other goodness’ tends to mainly consist of fish or chicken. I don’t usually eat fish at home, but here I have little choice. We eat talapia, nile perch and last night I provided the headlamp light for the YGC girls to saw into a 3 foot long catfish that I just finished for lunch.

The chicken we are served are not like the fresh meaty pieces that I am used to. Rather it appears as though they take the whole chicken, rip off its limbs and throw it in a pot. Sometimes I can’t even find the meat through the chewy flesh.

Whenever the pots are placed on the table we all have a little thrill of the unknown. What will we be eating today? It is like Christmas morning 2 times a day. Whoever is most eager will take a peek into the pot, lift the lid and by the expression left on their faces we are informed of whether or not it will be an enjoyable meal. Once in Mbita, Megan lifted the lid only to see a chicken’s face staring back at her. The head in fact was tangled into the talon of its own foot. Needless to say Megan did not eat that night.

Other than those face-happy proteins, I eat a lot of rice, potatoes and beans. These three ingredients are I am sure congealing into the Ugali baby I have growing, making my stomach a carb camp.

As for the veggie tales, I eat scumawiki and cabbage. Scuma is like a shredded kale. Prepared similar to the cabbage, it is a nice green addition to any meal.

Nyama choma is the next item on our list. It translates into ‘pile of meat’ which then brings us to the beef. Well, hold your horses… the beef is not infact beef, but goat! Yes, I know that we joked before my departure on how I would get to taste the delightful delicacy of African goat, but seriously, I have had the chewy, jerky-esque meat too many time to count at this point.

My warm-feelings toward goat only stretch to the roasted kind. I know that it is very special to eat goat, but really, when it is chopped into bits with the white fatty tissue still connected, I have a hard time choking it down. Whenever a stew is prepared, I put the serving spoon on dancing duty and try my best to have a fat-free scoop. 9 times out of 10 that is not the case.

But the roasted goat is another story. I have now seen them slit a goat’s throat and then skin the useless animal so that we can devour its insides. I feel like a primitive carnivore just describing the process, but truthfully that is what we are! They cut the pieces of meat and just roast it on a grill. It is the best in all its simplicity.

Beverages oh beverages. Well we hit the target with the FANTA! That is all I drink when magi (water) doesn’t quite quench the thirst. That or a nice Tusker, which is the famed Kenyan beer. I started this journey hoping to abstain from the booze, but I was convinced that I could not be in Kenya and take Tusker, I’ll throw a few back once in a while.

What do I miss? Well I always find it interesting to see what my tummy calls for and at the moment it is screaming Mexican. 3 more weeks until a margarita in hand!

I AM LEGEND

What is like to be a white person in Kenya you ask? Well let me take this moment to enlighten.

Throughout all of my travels, I have experienced the feeling of being an outsider of some sort or the feeling of being ‘the other’. Kenya though, takes this feeling to the extreme times 200.

Man or woman makes no difference. We are all Nzungus. We are all white man. Literally no matter where we travel “nzungu!” is yelled across town. Even packed in the back of Simon’s truck, the flash of white skin can make a blind man see.

Yes we are a rarity in Kenya, but at least within the city we are mildly accepted. In any establishment we are treated fair (but I am sure we would be ripped off if we weren’t with a local). Those that yell to us are either children or men who have the mental mindset of 13 year old boy.

While here in Kisumu, I take a boda-boda (bicycle) into town. The chorus of “Nzungu nzungu!” is my daily soundtrack. It is just like the “ciao bella” of Italy. You grow to love it and hate it all at once. It is always one of those funny moments when you arrive back in the states and realize that you are back to being a shade of gray. You can go unnoticed anywhere and mind your own business. You can just blend. Not that I love fitting into the crowd, but I love that it I can become invisible if I desire. Here, no luck Chuck.

In the rural Mbita it is actually most amusing. There they are really so secluded from the world that when they see a white person chances are that we are the first they have seen. I am like a walking legend. A myth come to life! Vampires do exist! Ah just kidding.

But, yeah, we are like aliens. The children’s eyes become wide and soak in the terror and thrill at once. The adults invite us to bless their homes. I am a Holy angel come to life.

It is all about the skin man. The children at the YGC orphanage are accustomed to seeing us volunteers come and go, but they like everyone else cannot help but want to touch my burnt, blistered flesh. They poke and prod as though my skin is magic. What will it feel like? How does it change colors? (White to fire red that is…)

Kenyans don’t burn. They seem to not even be bothered by the heat. Real Rude.

Well I guess I should appreciate the attention whilst possible. I am walking Medusa. I pass and turn viewers to stone from my beauty.  Yes. My blistered beauty. 

Hammertime!

One week later right!

Well I have been a busy girl. Well sort of.

Last Monday we took of for Mbita again, so it was off to the wilderness! I spent the last we at the boys Vocational School again where I worked on a few little projects that surrounded the Med25 Clinic. t

Things are making progress at a "Kenyan Pace" so the small details of the clinic are still getting sorted before they are ready to open late March. Last week we stomped through the mud once again and the team finished some community assessments and I documented some of the journey.

We girls are working on a couple of Peer Educator programs at 3 different primary schools so we were able to have smooth first meetings last week. We just asked the students some questions about their knowledge of healthcare for themselves and their community. The hope is that over the next few months, these kids will learn enough to pass on the information to their peers and soon their education on malaria, sex, clean water, and HIV will be a little more clear.

Let me be completely honest with you... Mbita is beautiful but there really isn't much to do there outside of our community visits. Oh and unfortunately, Kenya has been disagreeing with my bodily functions, so my system has been shut down. That being so, I enjoyed a nice week of school visits in the afternoon and sitting on my bum for the rest of the days end. My tummy currently is inflated to the size of a 7 month prego. Sweet right?

Anyways, we did take a nice weekend vacay and went to Takaweri Island. "The Island", as the locals put it, is a deserted resort. So there are nice rooms and bunks and a private beach but no one to enjoy its comforts. So we took a break from the busy work that I was doing (ha) and we all went last Saturday.

We brought along 3 of the boys from YCG as a reward for their help throughout the week. So on Saturday morning we packed 11 of us into a small station wagon that is really only suited for 6. I mean picture it. 4 in the front, 5 in the back and 2 in the trunk with 2 coolers and luggage. Packed like SARDINES!

By the time we arrived at Lake Victoria, our boat driver was there waiting. I will refer to him as MC Hammer as he was dressed a la 1982 with sweet purple track suit bottoms. Hammertime was a bust. We were attempting to leave in the middle of a storm and this fool did not know a boat from a goat. As soon as we were all in and in the middle of the waves, we all realized that he did not know how to navigate in the weather so we made the executive decision to wait a day and leave Sunday.

This being so MC Hammer had us "help" him dock the boat. Basically we all pushed the boat on to shore. Then pushed it back in the water. Then repeated the process 12 times. Crazy man. He anchored it 6 feet from shore...

Of course overnight the boat had been filled with a nice 2 feet of water so before leaving on Sunday he had to scoop it all out again. Smart smart man.

But we made it and it was AMAZING! I mean private deserted island. Who could ask for more? We swam, got fried, threw a few back, sacrificed a goat then had a bonfire. Nice little paradise.

Back in Mbita we finished one more days work. I painted the gate of the clinic to state "YGC Mbita Clinic" and evidently the town's chairman is so pleased with my work he wants me to paint his latrines. Ha. Nice reward right! The honor to paint an old man's toilet!

But up to speed. I have been back in Kisumu now for 2 days and I was back to the technological world and I whipped out my first fundraising video for Becca and Med25. It is just a taste of what a Med25 Family is and how we hope to gain donors. Hopefully I will get a link up soon so you all can see!

New Photos

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Marissa's Flickr Photos

Hiking towards a major sunburn

After my lesson on fish farming and sustainable business, I returned back to the YGC Boys Centre just in time for lunch and my next adventure.

Kelsey and Paula were preparing to visit a school in order to make our presence known in the community and to ask them their medical needs so I tagged along on a hike through the bush. We though that it would be about an hour each way (and since I need my exercise somehow) I felt it would be a great idea to see more of my surroundings.

Atleast, our hospitality lead, was given the privilge of being our guide. Dressed in our knee length skirts and white sneakers, I was reminded of the ultimate tourist, sticking out like a sore thumb. I mean, obviously we are the only white people around, but man oh man, when I looked down at my attire, I couldn’t help but laugh at myself.

Off we went straight into the bush. It was quite the hike to start and don’t forget the sun was beating down at its hottest point of the afternoon. As we left the Centre, we would walk for 10 minutes and run into the occasional goat or donkey, but rarely came across huts or homes.

As we continued into the elevation, it was quite the sight to see. The higher we rose, you realized that through the bush there are many homes spread so far apart. These children that live here travel an hour by foot to get to school each day. It makes my walk to work seem like a joke.

Atleast got us lost a couple of times, but we would just stop and ask for directions at  the next house we stumbled upon. There the owner would greet us with welcome. Actually, anytime you pass someone you greet them with a “habari yaku?”, “amosi” or “sasa” greeting. A handshake always follows and then a “assante sana” thank you very much, ends the interaction.

The villagers were fantastic though as they would actually walk the mountain with us until they felt secure in giving us appropriate directions. The children would just stare as we were no doubt the first white people they were to ever see and 3 girls to boot! We must be like aliens to them.

2 hours later we finally arrived at a school. Not the one we intended, but it would do. As we entered the grounds, the children froze. Other schools in town would yell “Nzungu! Nzungu!” as we passed which translates into “white person”, but this school’s inhabitants were so awestruck they giggled as we passed but did not know how to react.

We found the head teacher and he invited us into his office. He was so impressed at our journey and noticed that we were sweaty as all hell. Ha. But really, he was so stunned by the hard feat that we had just accomplished by walking 2 hours, that he beamed with excitement.

He listened to Kelsey as she explained the details involving the clinic that is almost ready to be opened, and he in turn gathered all the staff to listen to our purpose and meet us. Kelsey asked about how far they travel for their current healthcare and about what ailments the community and children most often seek help for. Of course malaria was number 1 and along with ringworm and typhoid the trifecta seemed accurate.

Basically by the end of the meeting, the teachers were all so happy to have us there and were grateful for our visit. The deputy head teacher even tried to marry us off to his staff. Can anyone say Green Card?

After exchanging contact info, we made our departure right back up the mountain. Again we greeted those we passed and even were handed a watermelon as a gift for our journey. Another 2 hours and a few more stops later we had made it home just as the sun began to set.

My time in Mbita will not be doing many community visits, but it was very interesting to tag along and see how excited the people get about the prospect of affordable healthcare.

A lesson on how to get what you want...

On my second day in Mbita, I was woken by the sounds of Kenya nature. What exactly does that sound like? Well try listening to goats scratching their bodies on the outside of your room, cows and donkey’s speaking out of boredom and too many roosters proving that they have a might lung capacity. Rude. Besides the animals though, it really is amazing. You hear nothing but nature.

After a quick breakfast, Simon offered to take me into Mbita town to give me a tour of the Women’s Vocational School site and to tag along on some of his business meetings. I happily accepted and I was very interested to see how a typical morning went for him.

Back on the bumpy road, we drove into town to the Lake Victoria Water Company. There we picked up bottles of water for the week (since the other option is rain water…not so clean) and the delicacy of ice. The Company is the only place in town to manufacture ice and sell ice and typically there are no refridgerators, or power in general in Mbita, so ice is rare to come by and a cold drink is welcomed.

The building was of warehouse fashion, and as we entered we followed a worker into his office. There he took out manual sales books and calculated our totals. Once paid, he handed us a gigantic plastic bag. I was not quite sure what this was for as the bag was taped on the outside, a sign of previous use, and was comparable to the size of a black garbage bag.

Soon enough, I learned the use… We were shown these metal bins the size of tables, and as we approached them a worker opened the lid to show us the ice. He took our plastic bag and with a large bucket he loaded the ice in the bag. Sanitary right? Tis the way.

Anyways, our alternate purpose for that stop was for Simon to meet with the Head Deputy Officer of the Fishing Department. I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to follow into the meeting, but the man, Michael Ubontu, invited me in. Simon’s reason for the meeting was to form a good relationship with this ‘man of certain power’ as the Women’s Vocational Centre is going to be building fish ponds to create a sustainable business.

Simon started by explaining to Michael the goal of the Centre. They plan on building two ponds where they will grow 5 different products. Talapia fingerlings will be sold to the surrounding Masai fishermen to be used as bait. And along with catfish and the byproducts of selling female breeding fish and large table fish, the system seems to sound as though if successful, sustainable.

Throughout the meeting Michael would continually ask Simon “Why”. Why would you set up the ponds this way? Why would you use this pump? Why do you think the product will be useful? – Simon had answers to all of his questions and as Michael explained, only when there are no more questions to be asked, do you know that you are doing something completely right.

Simon drew out some test plans of the fish pond layouts and Michael, now feeling as though he could correct and pass on knowledge, told Simon different ways of thinking and different ways of construction planning. He even went as far as to take out pictures from other successful fish farming businesses.

By the end of the meeting, Simon asked to set up the next meeting outside of the office and offered Michael dinner. Michael was extremely aware that Simon was buttering him up for more knowledge, but as he was also a proud man, he did not refuse.

As Simon explained to me on the ride home, he was getting a read on how to best use Michael. At first he played naieve, even to the extent of drawing fake plans just to see how Michael would fix them. After he saw that he did have useful information, he set up the next meeting so he can gain the most possible… outside the office.

It was interesting to see the politics of business and the interaction of forming useful relationships. As Simon explained, Michael will be a useful man to know, but his knowledge will come at a cost… Most likely favors for the future.

My lesson learned? Play dumb…get info.

A Taste of Mbita

On my second day in Kenya, we traveled to the rural town of Mbita where the actual clinic is being constructed.

From Kisumu, Kelsey, Paula, Charles the “gutterman” and I squeezed into the back of Simon’s truck and along with Becca comfortably in the front seat, we started our journey. Driving through Kisumu reminded me very much of the streets of Chennai, India. You see boda boda (bicycles) and motos and tuk tuks (golf cart taxis) everywhere and as you look left to right there are stalls lining the road ready to sell you beauty products, phone service and clothes all from a 2 square foot shack.

Downtown is lively and colorful. The “buildings” you pass are all of equal height, with their outer faces built from sheets of tin then painted with bright attractive colors. Pinks, blues, greens and yellow. Many topped with signs “Mama’s Grocery”, “Mama’s Music”, “Mama’s etc…”

So we drove for an hour and a half out of the city and slowly as we departed the bustle of downtown, the scenery transformed into fields upon fields with the occasional local walking on the side of the road making their trek to an unknown destination. It was amazing to see the different people making their journeys from the shepard to the businessman, from the woman with gigantic bowls on head to the small child going to school.

Finally, we arrived to the ferry where we then crossed Lake Victoria to make it to the penisula town of Mbita. Evidently the ferry driver was quite taken with me and offered to let me drive to boat. At this point I won’t risk the lives of the passengers, but someday right!

Kisumu and Mbita are like day and night. Where Kisumu was busy and complicated, Mbita was tranquil and simple. There are yet to be paved roads and there were no other cars to be seen. Thus the 30 minute drive to the YGC Boys Vocational School and the Clinic was a very bumpy one. It was off-roading to the extreme.

All you see in Mbita are mountains of the bush and although it appears as though there are few inhabiting the area, if you travel closer (which another story will elaborate) you find that there are many villagers living in the bush…many more than would be expected.

Soon we arrived at the YGC clinic that Becca and Med25 has been working on. It looked fantastic. Although construction is moving at a Kenyan pace (mos mos…very slowly) it is coming together nicely and they were just finishing the first coat of paint. They hope to open to the community in mid-march.

They took us on a tour of the compound that included 3 consultation rooms, observation rooms, a treatment room, a lab and a pharmacy. They even have eco-compost toilets to turn waste into fertilizer for the gardens surrounding.  By the time it is finished it will be a great addition to the community.

Just next to the clinic is the actual YGC Boys Vocational School. At this point, all of the boys that work at there are helping with the construction. The school includes a guesthouse, which we sleep at, a boys hostel, kitchen, chicken coup, and 2 large classrooms that the boys work on masonry and construction. Right now there are 14 boys living and working at the YGC. In time they hope to accommodate 24.

Each boy is assigned a job field that he works on. Our hospitality lead is named Atleast, and he makes sure that we are well taken care of and that our stay is comfortable. Others focus on construction of not only the clinic, but of products that they can sell to the community to create a sustainable profit.

It is such a great program because each of the YCG boys were orphaned, and now they are giving back to their program and making a salary themselves. They make 300 shillings a day, which in our terms is approx $2.50, but for them it is something to be proud of. They have good jobs that are creating a clinic that they are extremely happy to be a part of.

That first night there, we took a short walk and ended up at this gigantic cleared field that was waiting for the boys to play football on. Football of course is soccer in our sports lingo, and they love to play. Simon and Kelsey rallied the troops and they even got me and Paula to join, but after 3 minutes in, one or two sprints and a slight touch of the ball, I though better of my situation and took pictures instead. It was fun to watch.  I am pretty sure they could give my US soccer friends a run for their money…

By the time football was finished, the sun was beginning to set. We walked back to the YGC and for the first time since I entered Kenya, it was actually cool. The breeze brought in by Lake Victoria was beginning to border on cold. So on with the sweatshirts and pants. We were served goat that first night. Surprise, surprise. They must have killed it for us as they are abundant around the compound and are useless noismakers. Anyways, it tasted like jerky for those who wonder. Not my favorite, but interesting nonetheless.

Just wait for Mbita day 2. Fishing deputies and a hike into the bush await!

I'm Alive...

Three days into my stay and I have already learned so much. This is a short update to tell you all I am alive. I have a lot to say about multiple subjects so check back soon.

So Paula, another Seattle volunteer, and I arrived in Kisumu on Wednesday morning after flying in from Nairobi and were happily greeted by Becca and Simon who took us straight to the Young Generation Centre of Kisumu. There we were welcomed by the children of the school singing a song that included our names and they held signs made for us. Along with the kids we were greeted by Megan, another Seattlelite, Kelsey and the YGC staff. (Queen Anners will be happy to know Kelsey is doing great!)

I have much to fill in as I left for Mbita the next morning and had some fantastic adventures there. So give me a minute...

Ohhh We're Halfway There...

10 hours down, 10 to go.

As I am sitting here at an airport internet spot, I am pondering some facts about traveling. Seriously. How crazy is it that I woke up this morning in Seattle, had my breakfast, went to the airport and 3 movies and 3 meals later I am now sitting in the Netherlands?! I made it half way around the world and now I am waiting to go to a slightly warmer climate.

Airports are funny. The whole process says a lot about a person. I mean maybe I am ahead of the game or maybe behind, but I think you can tell a lot about a person by the way they travel.

Through the baggage claim you see the businessmen with their solitary suitcases, you can always point out the college students in their sweatshirts. The ‘cruise couples’, usually older, wearing their full matching work-out suits, with their luggage room tags already pre-attached to their bags… the list goes on and on.

From my experience, I have found that flying is a time for comfort. Most people who know me in my everyday attire will take note that I am usually put together. Flying Marissa on the other hand knows that she will soon enough be folded into some sort of yoga pretzel pose on board flight in order to catch some zzzzs so what is the point of dressing up for a high altitude nap?

Sure you want to impress others. Especially when you hit foreign soil. But with a backpack bordering 60 pounds on your back and the idea of 20+ hours of travel, I say screw appearances. I know I look like a 12 year old boy.

I do find it amusing though. Just sitting here, watching all the people pass. I love international travel. I swear there were only 5 other Americans on board and since my flight was primarily a connecting flight. The passengers were from all over the globe. The man in front of me was headed home to India and the kids on the flight spoke a variety of European languages that I vaguely understood.

I am currently sitting one story above the moving travelers below watching them move from one flight to the next. Hippie Australian backpackers, some colorful posse of South Africans, an Amish kid, the Japanese… Oh did I mention the 20-somethings carrying the artillery!? Oh Europe and the need for armed security.

Oh yes a Euro Mullet! I may have just found my traveling twin.

Time to move along. Hopefully I will sleep on this flight. Man, I usually can knock myself out before take-off, but that last flight was rough. I think I am just anxious. I actually watched 3 movies but couldn’t read, couldn’t write and the thought of listening to music was just not satisfying. Too many thoughts running around my head. See you in Kenya.

Here I Go (again on my own)...

Well well well. It is now 3 years since I embarked on my travels around the world and it seems about time for another adventure. Don't you agree?

Quick recap for those who may not know and are minimally interested; after SAS, I graduated, taught preschool for a year, worked on some fantastic sports photography and then somehow got trapped working as an Assistant Store Manager for a certain new age bohemian boutique. What can I say... a fantastic discount and a great team of gals kept me sucked in for longer than I had ever expected and all I was looking for was a way out.

Low an behold I held that power myself. Surprised? Yeah, well besides the fact that I had been at the point where I physically felt dread every day I had to go to work, I also met some random lady that inspired me to kick my butt in gear. She was a customer from South Africa, and when we got to talking I mentioned how I had sailed alongside Archbishop Desmond Tutu and how I went skydiving over her very own Table Top Mountain. We talked about some other adventures of my past and when she was ready to check out she actually thanked me for reminding her that there are still girls in the world ready to take risks and have a little fun in their lives. Well, she left me feeling so conflicted as yes, I had done some amazing things in the past, but at that point I had nothing inspiring to show for the last year.

I came to a bit of self-realization as I started to understand just how unhappy I was. I literally would become embarrassed when strangers asked what I did for a living. I know that there are many girls who would kill for my job for the company I was with, but for me, I choked on the words every time I explained my position.

So what to do? With help from some lovely girlfriends, the idea of 'living in the moment' came into my life. I know many try to keep this phrase alive within themselves, but I feel like I used to fake it a lot. No more in twenty-ten. Seriously. Within 4 days of the new year, I realized I needed to make some changes. Fast.

My amazing friend Kelsey has been working on medical projects in Africa over the last couple of years. When she was home this holiday season I got to know her even better and through everything she has accomplished I found her to be so inspiring. She and a few other nurses were heading back to Kenya to open their second HIV/Aids clinic with Med25 International (check it out...donate!). She mentioned to me that I should come volunteer and with everything in my life I took it as a sign. This was my opportunity for a new start.

Even though it started out as just a suggestion, tossed in somewhere between a heart-to-heart and a bachelor extravaganza on a party bus, it was something that stuck with me in the days to come. Actually it hit me pretty hard. I knew this was the perfect situation to volunteer my time, give back and it gave me comfort to know it was a credible organization.

Fast forward to the present... Well I requested a leave of absence from work, was denied. Put my 2-weeks notice in and now am leaving tomorrow! Why wait? I pushed up my departure from my original plan of March and am doing a quick trip of 6 weeks. I won't have a job when I get back (my steady salary gone!) and I have no idea what to expect. All I know is that I needed a change and here it is.

No one should be stuck hating what they do. I know we all need to make money to survive, but it was so much stress that was so unnecessary.  When I walked out after giving my resignation, I felt so free. It was like a weight had been lifted off of my shoulders. I found my escape from my corner-windowed prison.

Now I am ready for my next challenge. Kenya is just the start. All I know is that I am worth so much more than what I was settling for. Bring it on...