It has been almost a month since my last blog entry. My excuse is that I have been very busy finishing up work and that for the last two weeks (at least) we have not had internet at the house. Also, since I was on leave and was not at the office, I was completely without internet access.
Since the last blog entry, so much has happened. From June 10th I have been on leave because my friend Priscilla from Vancouver was visiting me. Just this evening we took her to the airport. It has been a special blessing to have someone walking alongside me as I began to take leave from Kenya, Nairobi Chapel and especially the friends I have made here. She also got a taste of Kenyan hospitality and how a one-hour meeting can easily turn into a whole afternoon as we visited some of my friends to say good-bye (she says I have become more patient here... there were indeed a number of times we just had to sit and wait for someone or something, and I guess I have gotten used to it - but don't expect this to necessarily translate to another context!).
Last week, we went on safari together to the Maasai Mara and got to see the beauty of Kenya after experiencing the dust, crowds and traffic of Nairobi.
The last few days have been times of saying good-bye as we had a farewell meal with the staff of Nairobi Chapel (those who could make it - mostly interns), with my discipleship class and with some closer friends. I have been blessed with many gifts and memories to take home. The communal emphasis of this culture becomes very apparent when almost everyone tells me to take greetings to family, friends and people back home - even though they do not know anyone they are sending greetings to. Herewith I am passing the greetings to you, receive the greetings from all the many people here.
In two days it will be my turn to walk through the security check at the airport and check in for my flight. Some of the things I will miss about Kenya: the value that people have here and the time they will take for you, people-watching at a matatu stage, the challenge and experience of understanding what people are saying in Swahili, real African worship and dancing at church, being inspired by the deep faith of people here in God, the aliveness of Africa, having my meals cooked for me and my shoes cleaned ;-) and of course, my friends here.
Favourite disgusting experience: cleaning my nose in the evening and seeing the tissue turn black from all the dirt and dust in my nose! ;-)
What I am looking forward to at home: Being HOME, seeing my friends and family, having dependable internet access and power, having a washing machine, good roads, riding my bike, being able to be out in the evening after dark, not worrying about anything being stolen or picked from your pocket.
All in all it has been a good time here, sometimes challenging, sometimes frustrating, but a time in which I have learned a lot and have been given a bigger and wider perspective of life and faith.
Thanks to Pris I have lots of photos to post on my blog (links will follow on the right).
Showing posts with label Life in Kenya. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Life in Kenya. Show all posts
Monday, June 23, 2008
Thursday, May 15, 2008
Online again
The good news is (as you have noticed), that internet is back, both at the office and at home. The not so good news is that there is a water shortage (Knappheit, Engpass) in Nairobi. Though this has been the rainy season, we have hardly had rain (I only used the umbrella I bought about twice). This means that they will start rationing the water. We will only be getting water from Saturday afternoon to Wednesday morning. Fortunately, there is a water tank on the roof which is usually filled by the city council water, so even when the water stops running, we will still have water for a day or two, depending on how much water we use (we have guests here right now, in total we are five grown-ups and four kids). It will be an interesting experience - I can't quite imagine yet what that will mean.
Post Office Treasure Hunt
(written on Monday evening)
Today, I ran an obstacle course – well, not literally, but I was trying to pick up a parcel at the post office downtown.
Step 1 – I arrive at the GPO (General Post Office) downtown. I find the entrance and go straight to the customer care desk. The lady, upon seeing my pink slip, tells me that I am at the wrong post office (strange, I seem to remember someone at the office confirming that I was to go to GPO). She tells me to go to the Post Office at Times Tower and vaguely describes how to find it.
Step 2 – I leave the post office and walk towards what I think is Times Tower – a tower with a clock on it. It turns out to be City Hall. I ask one of the guards for directions. He first tries sending me back to GPO, but then explains that I should go towards KICC (Kenyatta International Conference Centre) and that the post office is behind there.
Step 3 – I set out towards KICC and cross City Square in front of it. In an effort to go around KICC, I end up much further to the right than I intended. This means that I get to do some Kenya government sight-seeing as I turn back left to get behind KICC: Along Harambee Avenue are all the important offices and ministries: Harambee House, where the president receives guests, the Office of The President, the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, the Ministry of This and the Ministry of That. At some point I start wondering about the post office. I ask another guard – I guess I had asked at the right point: He was able to point out the post office to me which was visible down the street on the next Avenue over.
Step 4 – As I walk towards the post office, I am glad to see the sign: City Square Post Office – 00200. Until then I had been wondering whether the people there would just send me straight back to GPO, but I recognize the numbers from my address (most people here just have a post box, so it is important to know what post office the box is at).
Step 5 – I enter the post office on the ground floor, wondering how I will find the right counter to pick up the parcel. I find one that says something about “box” and which has no queue (Schlange), so I ask the lady there for help. She points me to the far end of the big hall. Sure enough: there is a counter “PARCEL DELIVERY.” There is no one at the counter. Do I wait – will someone turn up? Or do I trust the sign saying “Parcel deliveries on 2nd and 3rd floor?”
Step 6 – I decide to go take a look on 2nd or 3rd floor. (Surely waiting will take me nowhere.) I find an elevator at the end of the building. As I approach, a man speaks to me, “Excuse me, Madame?” – “Yes?” (I am suspicious, is this an official guy or just someone random looking for an excuse to talk to a mzungu lady?) – “Where do you need to go?” (He is acting official…) – “Parcel delivery.” – “They are on lunch break.” (Surprise, surprise!) – “What time will they get back?” – “At two.” I am lucky, it is ten to two. The man (receptionist?) asks me to have a seat and shows me a sofa made for three people. There are already three people sitting there. They squeeze together to make room for me.
It is nice to sit down. It is an unusually hot day for this time of year, and I am tired from the sun and the long walk. After about five minutes, the gentleman calls us to go up to parcel delivery.
Step 7 – On the second floor, I enter a big hall with a long counter. Once again, there are different signs. None of them seem to apply to me, but I decide to go to airmail parcels. I notice that the other people have yellow slips while mine is pink. I hand the slip to the man behind the counter, knowing that he will tell me to go somewhere else… I am right. He tells me to go downstairs, leave the building, turn left – I am obviously confused. “But downstairs they told me to come up here!” – “Who told you?” – “A lady at a counter downstairs.” (Not quite true, but she was the last person who had given me directions, and from there I just followed the signs.) He shakes his head. “Ah, that one knows nothing.”
This is starting to feel like a treasure hunt (Schatzsuche/Schnitzeljagd). Fortunately, the parcel guy offers to take me downstairs to show me where I need to go.
Step 8 – I realise that I was indeed totally wrong. Since the parcel was delivered to a P.O. box, I should have gone to where the boxes are (you enter on second floor from the outside of the building – how confusing!). At the end of the hallway I find a counter and know: this is it!
I hand over my pink slip. This time I am not sent away. Instead, the lady asks for identification. Fortunately, I have my Swiss ID on me. “This is not an REN ID!” I stare at her. Did she say REN? Or Arian? Or – I just thought of this possibility now – is she Kikuyu and is trying to say Alien? (Kikuyus are like Japanese, they mix up their Rs and Ls.) “You don’t have an REN ID?” – “That is my ID,” I insist. “They didn’t give you an REN ID?” – “No.” Whatever it is that she is talking about, I am quite sure that I do not have it. She seems to give in and goes to get the package. “How long have you been in Kenya?” is her next question. I seem to have gotten the lady who is a secret agent working for immigration, checking for illegal immigrants. She is satisfied to know that I am just visiting for six months. I sign the book – don’t forget the date – and she finally hands over the package. Mission accomplished – obstacle course completed! It was fun and gave me another cultural experience, but I think next time I will accept the offer to let the office errand boy pick up the parcel for me!
Today, I ran an obstacle course – well, not literally, but I was trying to pick up a parcel at the post office downtown.
Step 1 – I arrive at the GPO (General Post Office) downtown. I find the entrance and go straight to the customer care desk. The lady, upon seeing my pink slip, tells me that I am at the wrong post office (strange, I seem to remember someone at the office confirming that I was to go to GPO). She tells me to go to the Post Office at Times Tower and vaguely describes how to find it.
Step 2 – I leave the post office and walk towards what I think is Times Tower – a tower with a clock on it. It turns out to be City Hall. I ask one of the guards for directions. He first tries sending me back to GPO, but then explains that I should go towards KICC (Kenyatta International Conference Centre) and that the post office is behind there.
Step 3 – I set out towards KICC and cross City Square in front of it. In an effort to go around KICC, I end up much further to the right than I intended. This means that I get to do some Kenya government sight-seeing as I turn back left to get behind KICC: Along Harambee Avenue are all the important offices and ministries: Harambee House, where the president receives guests, the Office of The President, the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, the Ministry of This and the Ministry of That. At some point I start wondering about the post office. I ask another guard – I guess I had asked at the right point: He was able to point out the post office to me which was visible down the street on the next Avenue over.
Step 4 – As I walk towards the post office, I am glad to see the sign: City Square Post Office – 00200. Until then I had been wondering whether the people there would just send me straight back to GPO, but I recognize the numbers from my address (most people here just have a post box, so it is important to know what post office the box is at).
Step 5 – I enter the post office on the ground floor, wondering how I will find the right counter to pick up the parcel. I find one that says something about “box” and which has no queue (Schlange), so I ask the lady there for help. She points me to the far end of the big hall. Sure enough: there is a counter “PARCEL DELIVERY.” There is no one at the counter. Do I wait – will someone turn up? Or do I trust the sign saying “Parcel deliveries on 2nd and 3rd floor?”
Step 6 – I decide to go take a look on 2nd or 3rd floor. (Surely waiting will take me nowhere.) I find an elevator at the end of the building. As I approach, a man speaks to me, “Excuse me, Madame?” – “Yes?” (I am suspicious, is this an official guy or just someone random looking for an excuse to talk to a mzungu lady?) – “Where do you need to go?” (He is acting official…) – “Parcel delivery.” – “They are on lunch break.” (Surprise, surprise!) – “What time will they get back?” – “At two.” I am lucky, it is ten to two. The man (receptionist?) asks me to have a seat and shows me a sofa made for three people. There are already three people sitting there. They squeeze together to make room for me.
It is nice to sit down. It is an unusually hot day for this time of year, and I am tired from the sun and the long walk. After about five minutes, the gentleman calls us to go up to parcel delivery.
Step 7 – On the second floor, I enter a big hall with a long counter. Once again, there are different signs. None of them seem to apply to me, but I decide to go to airmail parcels. I notice that the other people have yellow slips while mine is pink. I hand the slip to the man behind the counter, knowing that he will tell me to go somewhere else… I am right. He tells me to go downstairs, leave the building, turn left – I am obviously confused. “But downstairs they told me to come up here!” – “Who told you?” – “A lady at a counter downstairs.” (Not quite true, but she was the last person who had given me directions, and from there I just followed the signs.) He shakes his head. “Ah, that one knows nothing.”
This is starting to feel like a treasure hunt (Schatzsuche/Schnitzeljagd). Fortunately, the parcel guy offers to take me downstairs to show me where I need to go.
Step 8 – I realise that I was indeed totally wrong. Since the parcel was delivered to a P.O. box, I should have gone to where the boxes are (you enter on second floor from the outside of the building – how confusing!). At the end of the hallway I find a counter and know: this is it!
I hand over my pink slip. This time I am not sent away. Instead, the lady asks for identification. Fortunately, I have my Swiss ID on me. “This is not an REN ID!” I stare at her. Did she say REN? Or Arian? Or – I just thought of this possibility now – is she Kikuyu and is trying to say Alien? (Kikuyus are like Japanese, they mix up their Rs and Ls.) “You don’t have an REN ID?” – “That is my ID,” I insist. “They didn’t give you an REN ID?” – “No.” Whatever it is that she is talking about, I am quite sure that I do not have it. She seems to give in and goes to get the package. “How long have you been in Kenya?” is her next question. I seem to have gotten the lady who is a secret agent working for immigration, checking for illegal immigrants. She is satisfied to know that I am just visiting for six months. I sign the book – don’t forget the date – and she finally hands over the package. Mission accomplished – obstacle course completed! It was fun and gave me another cultural experience, but I think next time I will accept the offer to let the office errand boy pick up the parcel for me!
Monday, May 12, 2008
Offline
Here's a quick blog entry to tell you to hold on and keep watching this space - even though nothing much has been happening in the last week. The internet at home has been down for since Tuesday evening, and since the problem has to do with the government owned network, it might take a while for them to fix it. Unfortunately, the internet at the office wasn't working after Thursday either (for a reason unknown to me). It is common for the internet to be down for a few hours or a day or so, but this is the first time it has been this long. The power is also sometimes a matter of luck, though I hear that a few years ago it was much, much worse, with people getting only a few hours of electricity a day. However, I thank God every morning when I get into the shower and there it hot water!
Right now I am at an internet café because I got tired of waiting for internet to happen at home. Since I am paying for my time, this entry will end here - the Swahinglish answers and the next challenge will have to wait for a few days!
Right now I am at an internet café because I got tired of waiting for internet to happen at home. Since I am paying for my time, this entry will end here - the Swahinglish answers and the next challenge will have to wait for a few days!
Monday, May 5, 2008
Swahinglish (II) - Blog Reader Challenge!
Yesterday I felt good about my Swahili. First of all, I was able to carry a simple conversation with the house-help for a few minutes, even though it was challenging for me to understand her. It still takes me some ten seconds to register and understand what someone has said, and most people here have never learned a foreign language and do not know what it means to speak slowly to a foreigner. Even when I ask them to speak “pole pole”, they just keep going at the same pace!
Secondly, Rinna (the elder daughter) said something yesterday which made me laugh. Because the language at home is English, she does not speak Swahili very well, which is why the parents want the house-help to speak Swahili to the kids. When she doesn’t know a word in Swahili, she will resort to Swahinglish. Here’s what she said yesterday: “Wapi headi ya fishi?” (Where is the head of the fish – in proper Swahili: Kichwa ya samaki wapi?)
I cannot speak better Swahili than she does, but I can also speak Swahinglish (which is what many young people her do – e.g. nimekumiss – I have missed you).
Speaking of Swahinglish: Proper Swahili has many words that have come from other languages, Arabic, Portuguese, German and recently of course from English. Some of them may not look recognisable at first glance, but you may be able to figure them out. Many of them will add an “i” at the end (sheet turns into shiti, blanket into blanketi) or they take the way the words sounds in British-Kenyan pronunciation and transcribe it into Swahili (Swahili uses the same vowel sounds as German, so shiti is pronounced shee-tee).
Here’s the challenge: I have selected some words of foreign origin for you to figure out. If you think you know the English or German equivalent, post your answers as a comment. I will let you know who has gotten the most correct answers.
Level 1
Disemba
sukari
kompyuta
milionea
oksijeni (I love this one!)
operesheni
stempu
shule (especially for you German-speakers!)
plasta
buluu
gazeti
Level 2 – public transport and vehicles
baiskeli
stesheni
gari
motokaa
boti
dereva
gereji
mota
petroli
teksi
tiketi
Levels 3 and 4 to follow! Have fun!
P.S. Copyright by Cornelia; however, idea was taken from a certain travelling and blog-writing brother (though at that time there were no blogs, the quiz came in one of the very lengthy newsletters).
P.P.S. Sarah Nimo – don’t even try, you are excluded from this contest!!! Hope you had a good flight, though!
Secondly, Rinna (the elder daughter) said something yesterday which made me laugh. Because the language at home is English, she does not speak Swahili very well, which is why the parents want the house-help to speak Swahili to the kids. When she doesn’t know a word in Swahili, she will resort to Swahinglish. Here’s what she said yesterday: “Wapi headi ya fishi?” (Where is the head of the fish – in proper Swahili: Kichwa ya samaki wapi?)
I cannot speak better Swahili than she does, but I can also speak Swahinglish (which is what many young people her do – e.g. nimekumiss – I have missed you).
Speaking of Swahinglish: Proper Swahili has many words that have come from other languages, Arabic, Portuguese, German and recently of course from English. Some of them may not look recognisable at first glance, but you may be able to figure them out. Many of them will add an “i” at the end (sheet turns into shiti, blanket into blanketi) or they take the way the words sounds in British-Kenyan pronunciation and transcribe it into Swahili (Swahili uses the same vowel sounds as German, so shiti is pronounced shee-tee).
Here’s the challenge: I have selected some words of foreign origin for you to figure out. If you think you know the English or German equivalent, post your answers as a comment. I will let you know who has gotten the most correct answers.
Level 1
Disemba
sukari
kompyuta
milionea
oksijeni (I love this one!)
operesheni
stempu
shule (especially for you German-speakers!)
plasta
buluu
gazeti
Level 2 – public transport and vehicles
baiskeli
stesheni
gari
motokaa
boti
dereva
gereji
mota
petroli
teksi
tiketi
Levels 3 and 4 to follow! Have fun!
P.S. Copyright by Cornelia; however, idea was taken from a certain travelling and blog-writing brother (though at that time there were no blogs, the quiz came in one of the very lengthy newsletters).
P.P.S. Sarah Nimo – don’t even try, you are excluded from this contest!!! Hope you had a good flight, though!
“Birth-week”
For the most part, I had a good birthday. On the negative side, my birthday was overshadowed by the sad news of two friends being robbed at gunpoint on a bus the evening before (note to self: stay away from citi hoppa buses!). On the bright side, I got to celebrate my birthday for at least three days. Wednesday was a regular working day, but I got phone calls from the important people in my life, and in the evening I was surprised by my Kenyan family and the neighbours with a small party! We had cake and soda and crisps (chips) and popcorn and some more cake. The kids (Rinna and Tanielle and the neighbours’ kids) sang for me and then proceeded to run and jump around like crazy because of all the sugar! It is a custom here to “wash” people on their birthday, meaning that you pour water on them. I was able to avoid that, but was face-painted with cake icing instead by the kids.
On Thursday I went out for Ethiopian lunch with two friends, then in the evening I went to a concert at the Carnivore, a well-known restaurant and club serving mostly meat. Because of my birthday, I was given a CD for free! (In case you are worried about what I wrote earlier on about my friends being robbed: I am rarely out after dark here, and then not on public transport. That night we took a taxi to the restaurant and back.)
On Friday, we went for an evening service and then had a movie night and sleep over at a friend’s house. Since one is restricted by the safety issues here and since we are usually too busy to spend a lot of time with friends, it was fun to have a reason to celebrate and go out. By the time we got to Saturday, however, I was rather tired!
On Thursday I went out for Ethiopian lunch with two friends, then in the evening I went to a concert at the Carnivore, a well-known restaurant and club serving mostly meat. Because of my birthday, I was given a CD for free! (In case you are worried about what I wrote earlier on about my friends being robbed: I am rarely out after dark here, and then not on public transport. That night we took a taxi to the restaurant and back.)
On Friday, we went for an evening service and then had a movie night and sleep over at a friend’s house. Since one is restricted by the safety issues here and since we are usually too busy to spend a lot of time with friends, it was fun to have a reason to celebrate and go out. By the time we got to Saturday, however, I was rather tired!
Monday, April 28, 2008
Toilet Philosophies
If you live in North America or Europe, there are many things you will take for granted when it comes to toilets. I have gotten used to all kinds of toilets here, but I realised that I unconsciously still compare the washrooms I visit with the standards I have from places back home. I noticed it when I was using the toilet at another church and found myself commenting to a friend on the two positive facts of toilet paper and cleanliness – and then realising that the door would not shut or lock properly. “Two out of three is not bad,” was my evaluation. Since then I have come up with a number of criteria for the grading of toilets. Please let me know if I am missing certain criteria or whether the ones I have chosen are internationally useful.
Toilet paper
This is not a uniquely African problem – even in Switzerland I will often check public toilets for toilet paper, but here it is especially useful to carry some toilet paper in your pocket or purse when travelling.
Clean toilet/flushing
A toilet that can’t be flushed will not stay clean very long. Because of issues with running water or with water pressure, toilets will not always flush (probably also because it takes a long time for the tank to fill, and when there are many people using the toilet there is no time for the tank to fill properly).
Door/Lock
You may have never thought of this as an issue, but you would be surprised at how many doors here will not close properly. Even at our church, there are some toilet doors that you have to push very hard for them to close. Another thing is the lock – you will often find (even with hotel room doors) that there are multiple signs of locks that had once been there. Sometimes there is only a bent nail on the door jamb which you can turn towards the door to keep it from opening.
Running water
As mentioned above, running water can be a luxury item. If there is water to wash your hands, be thankful (even if the water is coming out of a canister or a tap outside the washroom facilities).
Soap
If there is soap to wash your hands with, even better! If there is liquid soap out of a soap dispenser, you have found luxury toilets!!!
Mirror
Some people go to the bathroom just for the reason of checking on their hair, make-up, teeth etc., but just remember that this presumes that you have a mirror available. In our office, only the toilet on the ground floor has a mirror – it is even a full-length mirror!
Drying your hands
The issue of drying your hands was one of the last items to come my mind. I guess I have already gotten used to the fact that you often have to go without drying your hands here. The really fancy bathrooms here have the automatic blow-drying machines for drying your hands – complete with the sticker assuring you that this appliance is “energiesparend” and “umweltschonend” (saving energy and taking care of the environment). It reminds me of the recycled toilet paper that was used in Swiss public schools which also had that signet (anyone remember that paper?).
Toilet seat
I have saved the most interesting for last: toilet seats. Just yesterday I used a public toilet in a nice shopping area that fulfilled all the other criteria – except the toilet seat. Even the Lonely Planet guide comments on the fact that many of the hotels or public toilets do not have toilet seats. Even after four months I do not understand the reason for it. The best explanation I have gotten is that people might want to squat (hocken, kauern) on the toilets, therefore the seats have broken or have not been installed in the first place. Or maybe there is a secret association for the liberation of toilet seats…
Toilet paper
This is not a uniquely African problem – even in Switzerland I will often check public toilets for toilet paper, but here it is especially useful to carry some toilet paper in your pocket or purse when travelling.
Clean toilet/flushing
A toilet that can’t be flushed will not stay clean very long. Because of issues with running water or with water pressure, toilets will not always flush (probably also because it takes a long time for the tank to fill, and when there are many people using the toilet there is no time for the tank to fill properly).
Door/Lock
You may have never thought of this as an issue, but you would be surprised at how many doors here will not close properly. Even at our church, there are some toilet doors that you have to push very hard for them to close. Another thing is the lock – you will often find (even with hotel room doors) that there are multiple signs of locks that had once been there. Sometimes there is only a bent nail on the door jamb which you can turn towards the door to keep it from opening.
Running water
As mentioned above, running water can be a luxury item. If there is water to wash your hands, be thankful (even if the water is coming out of a canister or a tap outside the washroom facilities).
Soap
If there is soap to wash your hands with, even better! If there is liquid soap out of a soap dispenser, you have found luxury toilets!!!
Mirror
Some people go to the bathroom just for the reason of checking on their hair, make-up, teeth etc., but just remember that this presumes that you have a mirror available. In our office, only the toilet on the ground floor has a mirror – it is even a full-length mirror!
Drying your hands
The issue of drying your hands was one of the last items to come my mind. I guess I have already gotten used to the fact that you often have to go without drying your hands here. The really fancy bathrooms here have the automatic blow-drying machines for drying your hands – complete with the sticker assuring you that this appliance is “energiesparend” and “umweltschonend” (saving energy and taking care of the environment). It reminds me of the recycled toilet paper that was used in Swiss public schools which also had that signet (anyone remember that paper?).
Toilet seat
I have saved the most interesting for last: toilet seats. Just yesterday I used a public toilet in a nice shopping area that fulfilled all the other criteria – except the toilet seat. Even the Lonely Planet guide comments on the fact that many of the hotels or public toilets do not have toilet seats. Even after four months I do not understand the reason for it. The best explanation I have gotten is that people might want to squat (hocken, kauern) on the toilets, therefore the seats have broken or have not been installed in the first place. Or maybe there is a secret association for the liberation of toilet seats…
Sunday, April 13, 2008
Swahinglish (I)
As some of you may know, I am fascinated by language and the diversity of how language is used. It is especially interesting to see how the same language can be used so differently! Since coming here, I have been listening to people speak English and have sometimes been puzzled, surprised or amused by what people will say here – because their English has been influenced by Swahili or their mother tongue. To demonstrate this, I will tell you a story using as many “Swahinglish” phrases as possible.
Last week but one, one of the chicks from Msafara invited some of the interns to her house for a bash. I met Njeri and Gedion at the bus stage to catch a citi hoppa to Karen. As we entered the bus, we happened to find another intern there who had come straight from town. Gedion, always eager to get the best option, had worked out a way to save money: take the bus to the first junction after the Karen round-about and then catch a mat, but his plans were crossed by the fact that the bus conductor came to complain after passing the round-about that we had not paid enough since we were supposed to get off there. Gedion started causing and actually succeeded in not having us pay more.
Last week but one – two weeks ago
chick – girl, gal
bash – party, get-together
stage – station
citi hoppa – a local bus company
to enter the bus – to get on the bus
town – downtown
mat – matatu, a Nissan minivan for public transport
to cause – to cause trouble, to give someone trouble, to complain or rant
When we reached, we alighted from the bus and looked for a mat. The matatu tout finally agreed to take us to where we were going for ten shillings, so we entered the mat and were soon on our way. The matatu was full when we left, but on the way, we kept stopping to add more people. When we stopped for the third time, Gedion started protesting, as he was to make room for an old mama. They made room in the first row and we continued with the tout and the mama hanging out the side of the open van. When we stopped again, Gedion really started causing, threatening come out of the mat and walk – which the four of us actually did, leaving just enough seats for the extra people. We hadn't paid yet, so we actually saved money, but then again, what service can you expect if you are only willing to pay ten shillings?!
to reach – meaning: to reach a certain point or destination (verbs here are often used without objects)
to alight – to get off a bus (sounds to me like getting out of a carriage like in Jane Austen’s day!)
a matatu tout – the guy who “advertises” for the matatu at the stations, shouting out the destination, enticing people to get on (rather than go to the competition), and who acts as a conductor
to add more people – to let more people on
mama – pronounce mamá: an older lady
to come out of a bus or mat – alight, get off
Gedion supposedly knew where to go and told us that it was the next road, but when we got there, the road was Kufuga Road instead of Kuwinda Road. Strangely enough, the person we asked confirmed that this was Kuwinda Road, despite the sign that clearly said otherwise. We started walking down the road, but then decided to call Sarah (our host) to check. I would like to say that she did not pick her phone (just to use that phrase), but she actually did and explained to us that we would have to go farther down the main road to where her dad was waiting to pick us. We finally reached there after half an hour of walking and found Sarah’s dad patiently waiting. By that time we were quite annoyed with Gedion and his making us shuka way too early, but at the same time we had a story to tell and someone to blame for being late!
to pick your phone – to answer your phone
to pick someone – to pick someone up
shuka (Swahili) – to alight, get off
Last week but one, one of the chicks from Msafara invited some of the interns to her house for a bash. I met Njeri and Gedion at the bus stage to catch a citi hoppa to Karen. As we entered the bus, we happened to find another intern there who had come straight from town. Gedion, always eager to get the best option, had worked out a way to save money: take the bus to the first junction after the Karen round-about and then catch a mat, but his plans were crossed by the fact that the bus conductor came to complain after passing the round-about that we had not paid enough since we were supposed to get off there. Gedion started causing and actually succeeded in not having us pay more.
Last week but one – two weeks ago
chick – girl, gal
bash – party, get-together
stage – station
citi hoppa – a local bus company
to enter the bus – to get on the bus
town – downtown
mat – matatu, a Nissan minivan for public transport
to cause – to cause trouble, to give someone trouble, to complain or rant
When we reached, we alighted from the bus and looked for a mat. The matatu tout finally agreed to take us to where we were going for ten shillings, so we entered the mat and were soon on our way. The matatu was full when we left, but on the way, we kept stopping to add more people. When we stopped for the third time, Gedion started protesting, as he was to make room for an old mama. They made room in the first row and we continued with the tout and the mama hanging out the side of the open van. When we stopped again, Gedion really started causing, threatening come out of the mat and walk – which the four of us actually did, leaving just enough seats for the extra people. We hadn't paid yet, so we actually saved money, but then again, what service can you expect if you are only willing to pay ten shillings?!
to reach – meaning: to reach a certain point or destination (verbs here are often used without objects)
to alight – to get off a bus (sounds to me like getting out of a carriage like in Jane Austen’s day!)
a matatu tout – the guy who “advertises” for the matatu at the stations, shouting out the destination, enticing people to get on (rather than go to the competition), and who acts as a conductor
to add more people – to let more people on
mama – pronounce mamá: an older lady
to come out of a bus or mat – alight, get off
Gedion supposedly knew where to go and told us that it was the next road, but when we got there, the road was Kufuga Road instead of Kuwinda Road. Strangely enough, the person we asked confirmed that this was Kuwinda Road, despite the sign that clearly said otherwise. We started walking down the road, but then decided to call Sarah (our host) to check. I would like to say that she did not pick her phone (just to use that phrase), but she actually did and explained to us that we would have to go farther down the main road to where her dad was waiting to pick us. We finally reached there after half an hour of walking and found Sarah’s dad patiently waiting. By that time we were quite annoyed with Gedion and his making us shuka way too early, but at the same time we had a story to tell and someone to blame for being late!
to pick your phone – to answer your phone
to pick someone – to pick someone up
shuka (Swahili) – to alight, get off
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
Adventures as a Mzungu (white person)
I am post-dating this (which you will only notice if you have checking the blog regularly) because I actually wrote it offline on Monday but have been so busy or not able to connect to the internet that it has stayed as a Word-document until today. It turned out rather long, but I am hoping you will enjoy it nonetheless.
Yesterday, I had an interesting day which made me feel like I was in the rural area, even though I was still in Nairobi.
I was at a retreat from Friday to Sunday up at Karen, which is a place unto itself, even though it is still part of Nairobi and only about twenty minutes from here by car. Even the weather feels cooler, and everything is much greener out there. On Sunday, I got permission to miss church and go visit two girls at their school visiting day. These two girls had been part of the outreach I was here for in 2005, and since they were not in school then, two of my team mates decided to sponsor them. I joined the sponsorship shortly after, and have been privileged to see them a few times since then.
I had agreed to meet Pastor Stephen, the contact person for the Giraffe Project girls, at the Karen round-about at 9am. I was early, and as was to be expected, I waited for about half an hour. When Pastor Stephen came, we got on a matatu (a minivan for public transport, but public transport in Kenya is worth a blog entry to itself). There were a few Masai in the matatu – recognizable by their dress (Masai blankets wrapped around their shoulders) and the woman’s colourful beaded jewelry. Apart from that, you can usually tell a Masai by the way their ears are pierced and stretched out so that they have a huge hole and their earlobe is hanging way below the rest of the ear. The Masai lady had her ears covered in interesting jewelry, including the huge hole (or the sides of it). As I entered the matatu, I noticed her looking at me and saying something. I sat down behind her. She kept turning and looking at me, commenting to her husband and then looking back at me. After a few comments, Pastor Stephen explained to me that she was admiring me. Now, I have gotten used to people giving me more attention here, but this was a new experience. After about another minute, she stopped turning and looking and seemed to forget me for the rest of the ride.
A Different Church Experience
Even though the main goal of my excursion was to visit the girls, Pastor Stephen of course wanted to take me to his church. Sometimes it feels like mzungus are like a prize exhibit (Vorzeigestück) that you want to show off to everyone you know – at least that’s what it felt like at this church. This church was like the kind I had seen in the slums (though it is not a slum area): a simple, one-room church with a wooden frame and corrugated iron (Wellblech), wooden benches, a few plastic chairs, and a pit latrine (Plumpsklo) behind the building. The ground was just packed-down dirt and even the stage was just dirt enclosed by large oblong hewn rocks (wie in der Schweiz Trottoir-Randsteine). The sound system (consisting of four microphones and a keyboard) was not very reliable, and the people kept exchanging microphones when singing. Nevertheless, the church has three pastors and about 60-70 people attending. The church service officially started at 10am, but I think it was 10:30 when we actually began with worship. The singing went on for one and a half hours, interrupted only for a short time of welcome of visitors and prayers. When they welcomed the visitors, they had them either come up front and share or at least stand up and say their name. Strangely enough, they did not ask me to do any of that – even though I was seated very conspicuously (deutlich sichtbar) with the pastors at the front (it is impossible for a mzungu to hide!). What I did not realize was that they were saving me for later…
After a short presentation by the Sunday School kids, the main pastor got up and said he had some announcements to make before inviting our sister from Switzerland to the front (everything was done bilingually for my sake). At that point I started wondering whether they had forgotten to tell me that they were expecting me to preach! However, I knew from previous experiences that they like having a special guest from afar come up and share something brief. It is their way of honouring a guest – and the guest’s way of honouring them (never mind the fact that some people would rather die than be honoured that way!). I hoped that it was just a case of sharing, and that is what I proceeded to do. I managed to keep it below fifteen minutes :-) which I felt was very considerate of me.
By the time the sermon began it was already 12:30pm, and Pastor Stephen actually said he would keep it short for the sake of time. Short in this case meant half an hour, and considering the fact that everything was translated, you could even say that it was just twenty minutes (not fifteen because he often was shouting so loudly and speaking so fast that the translator hardly had time to properly translate). By the way, I find it interesting how preachers here have a distinct “preaching voice”, maybe for added effect or the emphasis of authority. Even at Nairobi Chapel, I find that the preachers raise their voice or shout ever so slightly. On the other hand, I now remember people in Switzerland who would lower their voice for effect… But it did make me wonder whether here one has to do that to be taken seriously – maybe next time I could improve my sharing by developing a “preaching voice”. :-)
Enna Girls Secondary School
Before, after and during the service, many pictures were taken, and the senior pastor even advertised that today, people could have their picture taken with a mzungu – for free! After having tea and bread in the church “office”, we finally set out at 2pm to go and visit the school. Stacey and Grace had been waiting for us. We were their first visitors that day as their families live all the way across Nairobi and too far for most of them to come (except Stacey’s sister and sister-in-law who came a bit later). While Pastor Stephen visited with the other Giraffe Project girls (check out the website if you are interested in sponsoring a child in school or want to see pictures of the Enna Girls School: http://www.giraffeproject.org/), I got to chat with the Stacey and Grace. They are both almost 18 years old, but still in Form 3 (grade 11 or grade 3 of high school) because they missed a year or two as they were waiting for the finances to go to high school. Until just recently, high school has not been free, and many parents cannot afford the tuition. Grace is an orphan; she stays with her aunt when she is not in school. Stacey’s dad died some time ago, so of course her mom has a hard time providing for all the kids.
Nyama Choma
We only stayed at the school for about an hour, but I enjoyed my visit with the girls. I expected to go home from there, but Pastor Stephen insisted on taking me to have “lunch” (at 4pm). In Kenya, guests are honoured very highly (even more so when they are mzungu guests). He would not let me pay for any of my matatu fare, and he felt he could not let me go without my having had a real lunch (the tea and bread at the church was “just a snack – food is for the stomach and snack is for the mouth”).
We went back to a place called Dagoretti market to get some nyama choma (roasted meat). There were many Masai at this place, and Pastor Stephen explained to me that the largest slaughter house of Nairobi was just nearby and that the Masai come in to sell their cattle. Without my realizing it, he had called the team from the church to come and join us for nyama choma, so I was rather surprised when they suddenly turned up (the two pastors and two ladies who had still been at the church, planning for an upcoming event). I do not know how the pastors get paid at this church, but I could tell that all really enjoyed working together and doing ministry.
After this enjoyable “lunch” of nyama choma and ugali (something like polenta), they all escorted me to the matatu stage (bus station) and sent me off. This reminds me of another interesting thing that I experienced that day: almost every time we took a matatu, people would make room for the mzungu at the front of the minivan – something that has never happened to me otherwise. I actually prefer sitting in the back for a number of reasons: 1. I would rather not see so clearly how we are driving and what crazy manoeuvres the driver is making; 2. in case of an accident, you are probably better off in the back; 3. as I discovered, it is easier to get on and off the back of the matatu, especially with a skirt – unless you are sitting in the very back, in which case it is never easy to get on and off. On the other hand, you actually get to see where you are going when sitting at the front. Carrying my backpack with my things for the weekend did not make all the “matatuing” very easy, but fortunately it was a direct trip home from where we had eaten.
Yesterday, I had an interesting day which made me feel like I was in the rural area, even though I was still in Nairobi.
I was at a retreat from Friday to Sunday up at Karen, which is a place unto itself, even though it is still part of Nairobi and only about twenty minutes from here by car. Even the weather feels cooler, and everything is much greener out there. On Sunday, I got permission to miss church and go visit two girls at their school visiting day. These two girls had been part of the outreach I was here for in 2005, and since they were not in school then, two of my team mates decided to sponsor them. I joined the sponsorship shortly after, and have been privileged to see them a few times since then.
I had agreed to meet Pastor Stephen, the contact person for the Giraffe Project girls, at the Karen round-about at 9am. I was early, and as was to be expected, I waited for about half an hour. When Pastor Stephen came, we got on a matatu (a minivan for public transport, but public transport in Kenya is worth a blog entry to itself). There were a few Masai in the matatu – recognizable by their dress (Masai blankets wrapped around their shoulders) and the woman’s colourful beaded jewelry. Apart from that, you can usually tell a Masai by the way their ears are pierced and stretched out so that they have a huge hole and their earlobe is hanging way below the rest of the ear. The Masai lady had her ears covered in interesting jewelry, including the huge hole (or the sides of it). As I entered the matatu, I noticed her looking at me and saying something. I sat down behind her. She kept turning and looking at me, commenting to her husband and then looking back at me. After a few comments, Pastor Stephen explained to me that she was admiring me. Now, I have gotten used to people giving me more attention here, but this was a new experience. After about another minute, she stopped turning and looking and seemed to forget me for the rest of the ride.
A Different Church Experience
Even though the main goal of my excursion was to visit the girls, Pastor Stephen of course wanted to take me to his church. Sometimes it feels like mzungus are like a prize exhibit (Vorzeigestück) that you want to show off to everyone you know – at least that’s what it felt like at this church. This church was like the kind I had seen in the slums (though it is not a slum area): a simple, one-room church with a wooden frame and corrugated iron (Wellblech), wooden benches, a few plastic chairs, and a pit latrine (Plumpsklo) behind the building. The ground was just packed-down dirt and even the stage was just dirt enclosed by large oblong hewn rocks (wie in der Schweiz Trottoir-Randsteine). The sound system (consisting of four microphones and a keyboard) was not very reliable, and the people kept exchanging microphones when singing. Nevertheless, the church has three pastors and about 60-70 people attending. The church service officially started at 10am, but I think it was 10:30 when we actually began with worship. The singing went on for one and a half hours, interrupted only for a short time of welcome of visitors and prayers. When they welcomed the visitors, they had them either come up front and share or at least stand up and say their name. Strangely enough, they did not ask me to do any of that – even though I was seated very conspicuously (deutlich sichtbar) with the pastors at the front (it is impossible for a mzungu to hide!). What I did not realize was that they were saving me for later…
After a short presentation by the Sunday School kids, the main pastor got up and said he had some announcements to make before inviting our sister from Switzerland to the front (everything was done bilingually for my sake). At that point I started wondering whether they had forgotten to tell me that they were expecting me to preach! However, I knew from previous experiences that they like having a special guest from afar come up and share something brief. It is their way of honouring a guest – and the guest’s way of honouring them (never mind the fact that some people would rather die than be honoured that way!). I hoped that it was just a case of sharing, and that is what I proceeded to do. I managed to keep it below fifteen minutes :-) which I felt was very considerate of me.
By the time the sermon began it was already 12:30pm, and Pastor Stephen actually said he would keep it short for the sake of time. Short in this case meant half an hour, and considering the fact that everything was translated, you could even say that it was just twenty minutes (not fifteen because he often was shouting so loudly and speaking so fast that the translator hardly had time to properly translate). By the way, I find it interesting how preachers here have a distinct “preaching voice”, maybe for added effect or the emphasis of authority. Even at Nairobi Chapel, I find that the preachers raise their voice or shout ever so slightly. On the other hand, I now remember people in Switzerland who would lower their voice for effect… But it did make me wonder whether here one has to do that to be taken seriously – maybe next time I could improve my sharing by developing a “preaching voice”. :-)
Enna Girls Secondary School
Before, after and during the service, many pictures were taken, and the senior pastor even advertised that today, people could have their picture taken with a mzungu – for free! After having tea and bread in the church “office”, we finally set out at 2pm to go and visit the school. Stacey and Grace had been waiting for us. We were their first visitors that day as their families live all the way across Nairobi and too far for most of them to come (except Stacey’s sister and sister-in-law who came a bit later). While Pastor Stephen visited with the other Giraffe Project girls (check out the website if you are interested in sponsoring a child in school or want to see pictures of the Enna Girls School: http://www.giraffeproject.org/), I got to chat with the Stacey and Grace. They are both almost 18 years old, but still in Form 3 (grade 11 or grade 3 of high school) because they missed a year or two as they were waiting for the finances to go to high school. Until just recently, high school has not been free, and many parents cannot afford the tuition. Grace is an orphan; she stays with her aunt when she is not in school. Stacey’s dad died some time ago, so of course her mom has a hard time providing for all the kids.
Nyama Choma
We only stayed at the school for about an hour, but I enjoyed my visit with the girls. I expected to go home from there, but Pastor Stephen insisted on taking me to have “lunch” (at 4pm). In Kenya, guests are honoured very highly (even more so when they are mzungu guests). He would not let me pay for any of my matatu fare, and he felt he could not let me go without my having had a real lunch (the tea and bread at the church was “just a snack – food is for the stomach and snack is for the mouth”).
We went back to a place called Dagoretti market to get some nyama choma (roasted meat). There were many Masai at this place, and Pastor Stephen explained to me that the largest slaughter house of Nairobi was just nearby and that the Masai come in to sell their cattle. Without my realizing it, he had called the team from the church to come and join us for nyama choma, so I was rather surprised when they suddenly turned up (the two pastors and two ladies who had still been at the church, planning for an upcoming event). I do not know how the pastors get paid at this church, but I could tell that all really enjoyed working together and doing ministry.
After this enjoyable “lunch” of nyama choma and ugali (something like polenta), they all escorted me to the matatu stage (bus station) and sent me off. This reminds me of another interesting thing that I experienced that day: almost every time we took a matatu, people would make room for the mzungu at the front of the minivan – something that has never happened to me otherwise. I actually prefer sitting in the back for a number of reasons: 1. I would rather not see so clearly how we are driving and what crazy manoeuvres the driver is making; 2. in case of an accident, you are probably better off in the back; 3. as I discovered, it is easier to get on and off the back of the matatu, especially with a skirt – unless you are sitting in the very back, in which case it is never easy to get on and off. On the other hand, you actually get to see where you are going when sitting at the front. Carrying my backpack with my things for the weekend did not make all the “matatuing” very easy, but fortunately it was a direct trip home from where we had eaten.
Saturday, April 5, 2008
Back again
Yes, I am back, not just from Msafara, but from suffering from some stomach bug (which was never identified). I am still processing all that I experienced and learned on Msafara. It was a emotionally, physically and spiritually draining trip, but it was also amazing, moving and indescribable.
Let me give you an idea of what we did. In the group, I was part of the volunteer team which meant that much of what we did was with IDPs (internally displaced persons - get used to the abbreviation!). In every place, while the pastors were meeting with the local pastors and working on reconciliation among them, we would go to the IDP camps. It has been more than a month since the peace deal was signed, but there are still over 200 IDP camps all over the country. The people there are still waiting to see the fruits of the peace deal. During the visits, we got to talk with displaced people and hear some of their stories. Even though there is "peace" now, these people cannot return to their homes because they have either been burnt, or they just do not yet feel safe going back. Many of them, even kids, have witnessed people being killed or hurt and their houses and properties being burnt or destroyed. Many of them are also still very bitter and hurt on the inside - they cannot or do not want to forgive what has been done to them. In that, it is hard for them to move on and to have hope for the future.
We tried to help these people in different ways: We brought "hygiene packs" that were distributed, we interacted with the people, talking with grown-ups and playing with the kids, and we had worship services with them. Even though these people have been taken care of physically and also have been given counselling, they are really thirsting for spiritual food and spiritual accompaniment in what they are going through. It was amazing to see people in the IDP camp in Nakuru breaking down in tears, asking God to help them be able to forgive those who had hurt them. In many ways, this is just the beginning of the work of reconciliation - we pray that this seed will grow and bear fruit. Many are not yet able to think of forgiving or reconciling - much still needs to happen for them to be able to move on. (For some people this is the third time that they have been chased away in post-election clashes.)
In Eldoret and Kisumu, the tension could still be felt on the streets as we came into town.
Oops, I have run out of time and must leave for our retreat... to be continued!
Let me give you an idea of what we did. In the group, I was part of the volunteer team which meant that much of what we did was with IDPs (internally displaced persons - get used to the abbreviation!). In every place, while the pastors were meeting with the local pastors and working on reconciliation among them, we would go to the IDP camps. It has been more than a month since the peace deal was signed, but there are still over 200 IDP camps all over the country. The people there are still waiting to see the fruits of the peace deal. During the visits, we got to talk with displaced people and hear some of their stories. Even though there is "peace" now, these people cannot return to their homes because they have either been burnt, or they just do not yet feel safe going back. Many of them, even kids, have witnessed people being killed or hurt and their houses and properties being burnt or destroyed. Many of them are also still very bitter and hurt on the inside - they cannot or do not want to forgive what has been done to them. In that, it is hard for them to move on and to have hope for the future.
We tried to help these people in different ways: We brought "hygiene packs" that were distributed, we interacted with the people, talking with grown-ups and playing with the kids, and we had worship services with them. Even though these people have been taken care of physically and also have been given counselling, they are really thirsting for spiritual food and spiritual accompaniment in what they are going through. It was amazing to see people in the IDP camp in Nakuru breaking down in tears, asking God to help them be able to forgive those who had hurt them. In many ways, this is just the beginning of the work of reconciliation - we pray that this seed will grow and bear fruit. Many are not yet able to think of forgiving or reconciling - much still needs to happen for them to be able to move on. (For some people this is the third time that they have been chased away in post-election clashes.)
In Eldoret and Kisumu, the tension could still be felt on the streets as we came into town.
Oops, I have run out of time and must leave for our retreat... to be continued!
Friday, February 29, 2008
"We have a deal"
Today, finally, there is good news about the political situation. It is the news we have all been waiting to hear for the last two months. Kibaki and Raila Odinga have signed a coalition agreement whereby (not sure of the correct usage of this word, but this is a favourite word of Kenyans and is used in any and every context) the new post of prime minister will be created. The part about the prime minister was agreed upon some time ago, but the details and the powers of the prime minister and president took a long time to be worked out. Kofi Annan gave up talking with the two groups of party representatives this week and announced that he would be talking with the two head leaders, since they were the ones who really would have to agree. Today they finally struck a deal. (To read about the details of the deal, look up http://www.eastandard.net/news/?id=1143982557&cid=4.)
Everyone is relieved at the news. For such a long time we have been going back and forth between hope and dispair, further development in the talks and people predicting the failure of the talks, that it seems hard to believe that the crisis has finally come to an end. Our hope of the talks ending successfully had been deferred so many times that I realised that I had not dared hope for such a quick resolution when Kofi Annan announced his plans to talk with the leaders. The good news has yet to sink in. Finally, we can move on. Thank God.
Then again, many people will not be able to move on for a very long time. There are still thousands of people in living in camps, unable to return. They do not know yet where they will be going and how they will be able to continue their lives after they have lost everything. Hatred between tribal communities is still festering and there is additional bitterness over what has happened in the last few weeks. There is still much work to be done.
I hope and pray that this coalition will last and that the underlying issues of this crisis (such as tribalism and economic disparity) will be addressed and taken care of (and not swept under the carpet as they have been every other time they have come up).
Everyone is relieved at the news. For such a long time we have been going back and forth between hope and dispair, further development in the talks and people predicting the failure of the talks, that it seems hard to believe that the crisis has finally come to an end. Our hope of the talks ending successfully had been deferred so many times that I realised that I had not dared hope for such a quick resolution when Kofi Annan announced his plans to talk with the leaders. The good news has yet to sink in. Finally, we can move on. Thank God.
Then again, many people will not be able to move on for a very long time. There are still thousands of people in living in camps, unable to return. They do not know yet where they will be going and how they will be able to continue their lives after they have lost everything. Hatred between tribal communities is still festering and there is additional bitterness over what has happened in the last few weeks. There is still much work to be done.
I hope and pray that this coalition will last and that the underlying issues of this crisis (such as tribalism and economic disparity) will be addressed and taken care of (and not swept under the carpet as they have been every other time they have come up).
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Hospital visit
Last week I went to the hospital to visit Njeru’s mother. I went with Njeru, also a pastoral trainee at Nairobi Chapel, and a pastor from Nairobi Chapel. Njeru’s mom had had a stroke the week before. They had been able to have her transferred to Kenyatta Hospital from a hospital outside the city because they have a relative working in administration at Kenyatta (the sign outside the hospital says “corruption free zone”). I was amazed at how many people were walking around the hospital. It was absolutely crowded and we had to stand in line to get in the elevator. When I visit the hospital in Switzerland, I mostly see nurses and doctors in the hallways – here I was noticing all the other people. I soon realised why there were so many people. In Kenya, if you are sick, you do not just get visits from your family and friends, but from your family’s friends (like me) and your friends’ friends. There were eight people in the room with Mama Njeru – usually about ten at all times according to Njeru, sometimes they have to take turns being in the room. I cannot imagine being ill and constantly surrounded by ten people, many of whom I do not even know. Maybe that is why they limit visiting hours to 12-2pm and 4:30-6pm.
Thursday, January 17, 2008
Rain
For the first time since I have arrived here I awoke to the sound of rain. I also woke up to the fact that the power was out which was not huge problem except that it meant taking a cold shower, but the water is usually not very hot anyway. Cooking is done with gas here, so there was still a warm breakfast with hot tea (chai - milk tea).
The rain continued and got stronger until about 11am - the power was out until about 2pm - that is when it started raining again! The rain was a good thing in the sense that is has kept people from going out to the rallies in Nairobi. In other places like Mombasa and Kisumu there have been some riots, but it seemed rather quiet here - I am sure I will hear more on the news this evening. 13 of 18 expected interns turned up today for orientation (we are actually 22 interns) and there was no fee for latecomers today. (I realised that I should explain the 50 shilling fee in value rather than exchange rate. 40 shillings pay for my bus fare to church and back or for a 5dl bottle of coke.) The other interns probably not feel that it was safe to come, though there was very little traffic out of fear of riots, even though the rally was only set for 2pm. We had planned to go into Kibera and visit a clinic that the church has helped build up, but with the current situation and the mud that was to be expected as a result of the rain we were not able to go into the slums. That meant that I got the afternoon off which I am enjoying as people have been warning me that we will be exceedingly busy once the internship takes off!
While I still have the time, I want to write a bit about my host family so you can imagine where I am staying.
Steve and Mary are a couple in their late thirties with two girls ages four and a half and seven. I met Mary when I was in Kenya in 2005, taking a class at Daystar University. She was then working on a Masters in counselling. She has since then also taken courses in management since she works for a project called Amani ya Juu (http://www.amaniafrica.org/). Amani ya Juu means "a higher peace" and is a sewing project for marginalized women (mostly refugees) to empower them and work towards reconciliation and peace. Steve is an Anglican pastor working for Church Army Africa, a leadership training program within the Anglican Church (http://www.churcharmyafrica.net/).
The girls, Rinna and Tanielle, are very lively girls who love to play with the two neighbour children. School has started now, but recently they were playing hide and seek with their neighbours and locked themselves in the bathroom at the other house by breaking the key while turning it! Fortunately, the seeker was able to alert someone and they got out, but only after about an hour of waiting for a new key. They are both in school, and Tanielle is already learning to read (though often she guesses words from memory rather than reading them - she has got a great memory).
Their house has four bedrooms (and an additional little room in a separate house), and besides me there have been a number of people staying here as they have a very open house. First of all there is the house help, a young girl employed to do housework and also look after the children when the parents are out. She sleeps in the girls' room. Then there were other people here, a friend or a relative coming through on the way to university or the boarding school where she teaches, or a colleague looking for accomodation in Nairobi.
My room is on the groundfloor next to the living room which means I participate at least indirectly in the life happening here because I can hear what is going on in the house even from my room. All the rooms have a few ventilation holes above the doors and the windows, which explains why I can hear everything even though the house is made of concrete. The girls have to get up at 6 or 6:30am for school, so there is no sleeping in for me on weekdays - my day off is Monday :-( My room has a bed, a closet, a desk and a bookshelf - and I get afternoon sun through large windows, so I am quite happy here!
The rain continued and got stronger until about 11am - the power was out until about 2pm - that is when it started raining again! The rain was a good thing in the sense that is has kept people from going out to the rallies in Nairobi. In other places like Mombasa and Kisumu there have been some riots, but it seemed rather quiet here - I am sure I will hear more on the news this evening. 13 of 18 expected interns turned up today for orientation (we are actually 22 interns) and there was no fee for latecomers today. (I realised that I should explain the 50 shilling fee in value rather than exchange rate. 40 shillings pay for my bus fare to church and back or for a 5dl bottle of coke.) The other interns probably not feel that it was safe to come, though there was very little traffic out of fear of riots, even though the rally was only set for 2pm. We had planned to go into Kibera and visit a clinic that the church has helped build up, but with the current situation and the mud that was to be expected as a result of the rain we were not able to go into the slums. That meant that I got the afternoon off which I am enjoying as people have been warning me that we will be exceedingly busy once the internship takes off!
While I still have the time, I want to write a bit about my host family so you can imagine where I am staying.
Steve and Mary are a couple in their late thirties with two girls ages four and a half and seven. I met Mary when I was in Kenya in 2005, taking a class at Daystar University. She was then working on a Masters in counselling. She has since then also taken courses in management since she works for a project called Amani ya Juu (http://www.amaniafrica.org/). Amani ya Juu means "a higher peace" and is a sewing project for marginalized women (mostly refugees) to empower them and work towards reconciliation and peace. Steve is an Anglican pastor working for Church Army Africa, a leadership training program within the Anglican Church (http://www.churcharmyafrica.net/).
The girls, Rinna and Tanielle, are very lively girls who love to play with the two neighbour children. School has started now, but recently they were playing hide and seek with their neighbours and locked themselves in the bathroom at the other house by breaking the key while turning it! Fortunately, the seeker was able to alert someone and they got out, but only after about an hour of waiting for a new key. They are both in school, and Tanielle is already learning to read (though often she guesses words from memory rather than reading them - she has got a great memory).
Their house has four bedrooms (and an additional little room in a separate house), and besides me there have been a number of people staying here as they have a very open house. First of all there is the house help, a young girl employed to do housework and also look after the children when the parents are out. She sleeps in the girls' room. Then there were other people here, a friend or a relative coming through on the way to university or the boarding school where she teaches, or a colleague looking for accomodation in Nairobi.
My room is on the groundfloor next to the living room which means I participate at least indirectly in the life happening here because I can hear what is going on in the house even from my room. All the rooms have a few ventilation holes above the doors and the windows, which explains why I can hear everything even though the house is made of concrete. The girls have to get up at 6 or 6:30am for school, so there is no sleeping in for me on weekdays - my day off is Monday :-( My room has a bed, a closet, a desk and a bookshelf - and I get afternoon sun through large windows, so I am quite happy here!
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