Play time.

Today as we approached Faraja we could hear squeals, giggles, and tears. This is unual since the kids would normally be at school. Upon opening the gates we were greeted by nearly all (except a few older girls) of the kids. Moraa explained that they were out of school for the day and had already done all the work. At this point they were just running around causing a ruckus. I offered to take them out to play and she was grateful. First I walked back to Ngong and got the soccer ball I had brought from home. The air pump I brought was broke, which really sucked. But thankfully we were able to get the ball blown up by the man working at the petro station. After walking back towards Faraja I called Ben and told him "Twende!" (let's go) and waited at the bottom of the hill. The sight of the kids running down the hill was slightly chaotic but one of the best things I've seen since I came here. They were all shouting and ripped the ball out of my hands and just kept running. Ben handed Kepha to Abi and I and took off after the other boys (do they ever grow up? lol).

Playing soccer with the kids has been one of the things I've wanted to do ever since I knew I was coming to Kenya. And it didn't dissapoint. They played for hours, in a dirt field cover with rocks and cows. I was shocked and humbled when I saw many of them playing barefoot. I mostly watched, but I hopped in the game every now and again, and let myself go enough to scream "GOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAALLLLLLLLLL" and run around and high fives all the kids when necesary.

One of the boys came up to me about midgame and said "band-aid?" and I asked why. He showed me his foot which was covered in blood. no band-aid was going to do the trick and of course I couldn't convince him to walk home and stop playing. Time to improvise! I took him to my backpack to see what we could do. First we rinsed his foot off and I had him clean the cut (it wasn't bad, but in a really inconvintent spot) I gave him some alcohol swabs and he cleaned it (6 of the kids at Faraja have HIV so caution is a must). Next I help him put a gauze pad on it and tied one of my socks around his foot to hold it using extra ponytail holders. I gave him my other sock to cover the attempted bandage and a kid loaned him one shoe (I never understood that part). With that it was back to the game.

It was a blast. They had a lot of fun and so did I. On the downside I am burnt to hell. Which is really unfortunate since I've heard nothing but horror stories of the Mombasa sun. Most people I know insist they've lost a full layer of skin after their adventures at Kenya's east coast paradise. Oh well I guess I'm just starting the game early. And what is it about sunburn that makes you SO tired? I napped today for the first time in a while, but that could also be because the kids ran me ragged.

Anyway, I am going to the coast this weekend. We leave tomorrow night at 9pm.I'm going with about 10 people and I have only met 1.5 of them, that makes me kind of nervous, but actually it should be an awesome opportunity for networking (since I still need to find a group to go to the equator with!). Im excited since I've never actually been to a real beach before. This place has a way of catching up to you that isn't always so plesant, and I need a break to regroup my head. Next time I blog should be from the beach :D

Rays coming from the sunset on the walk home

from Faraja.

Alright! Weekend recap in 25 words or less:

Sickly, fever, gross, sleep, sleep, delicious lunch, hitch-hiking, dog = safety, cuddly, giraffes, kisses, cheesy TV, blogging, Red Bull, danger, more hitch-hiking, pedicures, Mzungu Sunday.

Faraja Children's Home

I had a quite pleasant Monday. It started out by waking up and running a few errands. It was nice to be able to relax in the morning and do my own thing. But the best part of the day was when we went to Faraja. There was a lot of work to do yesterday, but I realized I didn't mind a bit. Kepha was in a great mood, and insisted on “helping” with all the chores. First things first: dishes. Since we got there a little passed one in the afternoon the kids had just left and there were plenty of lunch dishes to do. We knocked this task out no problem, which was nice because it's usually my least favorite. To my surprise Kepha is a shockingly good dishwasher for a toddler... well till he realized he could just play in the water instead. Next, we had to sort beans. This chore sucks, but not because it's hard to do. It's super tedious, and there is no fun in it at all [I stand corrected, continue reading]. Sorting beans is exactly what it sounds like. Moraa hands you a five gallon bucket of beans and you pick through them individually to sort the good from the bad. Since the majority of Faraja's food is donated it's not always the best quality; sorting the beans ensures that the kids don't wind up eating beans with bugs in them. Like I said, it's not a hard thing to do, it's just very time consuming and the bucket never ever seems to get any less full. Yesterday Ben and Kepha spiced the chore up by throwing beans everywhere: at the cat, in people's shirts, in people's mouths, over the fence, anywhere possible (Ben's forte is making all the children counterproductive to what ever task I'm trying to complete). On a normal day this would have irked me, but Kepha was having so much fun I couldn't even be bothered. About this time in the day Moraa told us she needed to go to the District Office and asked us to watch the orphanage while she was gone. Can a couple wazungu (plural mzungu) run an African orphanage for a just a few hours? Yes and no.

After Moraa left we finished sorting. Then I washed the beans and removed all the ones left floating (they're hollow and therefore no good) and Ben went to deal with the chickens. [Side note: watching Kepha help us round up stray chickens definitely goes on the top 10 cutest things I've ever seen list] Next Ben and I started dinner. We were cooking githeri (a maize and bean mixture, it's quite nice). We added our washed and sorted beans to the maize that had already been cooking since noonish, cooking for nearly 40 people is a lot more difficult than cooking in a small pot at home. Having to stir all of this stuff together in a GIANT pot takes muscle. When we felt confident that it was mixed enough we tried to get the fire under the pot (with Kepha fanning to ensure the fire has oxygen)... we failed. After working at it for about ten minutes some of the kids started arriving home from school. A girl named Jaclyn was able to get our fire up and going in under three minutes (kids: 1 wazungu: 0). For the rest of the time we were there we just supervised the kids and helped them with a couple chores here and there, within an hour of them being home they had swept the whole yard, washed all the uniforms, bathed the younger kids, mopped the house, organized laundry, and tons more (kids: 396 wazungu:0). When I went to stir the githeri and make sure the fire was still going Kevin happened to be watching and more trying to gain his trust than actually assuming I had screwed up I asked him “am I doing it right?” He looked at me like I was joking and said “there is no water in that.” Uhhh... oops? I was supposed to add water? Duh. So I brought back a pitcher of water and poured it in. “Enough?” I asked. Apparently not, I worked on filling this stupid pot for ever while Kevin watched me with a mixture of confusion and humor. By the time I was nearly finished with the water the fire was dying and Jaclyn was back at it. Eventually the Kevin/Jaclyn combo told me that it was okay, I'd tried, they would take over making dinner now. I just got schooled by kids half my age, but I have no regrets. These kids are 10x the person I was at that age, and most more than I'll ever be. (kids: ∞)

This was just an average day at Faraja Children's Home. Not much special happened, but the reason I am posting this is too give you an idea just how smart and resourceful these kids are. Kepha is not even two years old and he knows how to help with every chore in the house. Hell, if the kid could reach the clothes line I'd consider paying him (in piggyback rides) if he'd do my laundry. Goodness knows he's better at it than I am. He's less afraid of the kukus (chickens) than Ben will ever be, and can work a broom that's taller than he is. He's the youngest person in the house, imagine the other kids! Marry and Dama (the two oldest girls 16/17) can run the house without a hitch. The kids respect each of them almost as much as Moraa. When I just give up and sit there helpless as the kids run circles around me Dama can walk in and with a few sharp-sounding swahili words the kids will be sitting on their beds with pencils in hands ready to listen to whatever I have to say. Nancy and Phoebe are a dynamic duo (approx 6/7). Yesterday I watched them sweep the entire yard till it was spotless, this is hard to achieve considering their yard is made of stone/dirt. Long story short, the kids are awesome. It hurts me to see how fast they have to grow up, but at the same time I know it's unavoidable. The older girls rarely laugh which breaks my heart, and I only hope that the younger kids will grow up knowing more joy in their lives. I talked to Moraa about the monkey park again yesterday and it sounds like it's a plan. We've set a date for Saturday April 9, so I guess that means I better get to planning. I'm excited and I hope it all works out in an affordable manner. I think it will do the kids a world of good to get out of the house for once and have an opportunity to be kids.

Faraja Children's Home; a call for help

I feel like in the last week I have neglected the real reason I came to Kenya. I came here to volunteer and do my best to make an impact on the community. Every weekday for the last week and a half I have gone to Faraja to work along side Ben and Abi to do our best to make a difference in the run down orphanage. To be honest though, when I think about everything the kids need and that Moraa needs to help run the orphanage I become so overwhelmed it makes it hard to focus on any one thing. So, therefore, I am asking for your help. I need some new perspectives, new thoughts, and some hope for these people. I'm asking you to read up on Faraja Children's Home and give me your thoughts and opinions. Any help is much appreciated.

Faraja is ran solely by a woman named Moraa (Mor-ah) and has been in existence for about seven years now. Everyday Moraa manages to take 'mom' to a whole new level. The days start off at 5:30am when Moraa wakes the kids for breakfast, from there she helps the all get ready for school before sending them off for the day. This is when the real work starts. It may seem like the hard part of running an orphanage would be when the kids were actually home, but that would be incorrect. While the kids are at school Moraa has the laundry of 36 people to do (remember there are no washers/dryers here, in fact Faraja has neither electricity nor running water), clean the home, visit with social workers, she also has to wash the dishes from breakfast and start preparing lunch for the kids who come home midday, feed and water the chickens, and collect what few eggs they've laid. Again, you might think that was the hard part... and again, you're mistaken. When the kids get home from lunch Moraa ensures that they have a speedy meal and make it back to school for their afternoon lessons. From there it's a whole new pile of dishes (by now I'm sure you've gathered that there are also no dishwashers), and afternoon chores. When the kids get home in the evening she has to tutor the ones who need tutoring, counsel the children who need counseling because they've lived more screwed up lives than most people double their age, ensure that all of the kids are bathed and make dinner for the rowdy bunch of 35 orphans before bedtime at 9:30pm. In the beginning I assumed that was the hard part of running a foundation like Moraa's; the physical labor and grueling hours. But I couldn't have been more wrong. The hard part is not knowing where the next meal is coming from, having to find time to make the 45 minute walk into town to beg for donations and food, arguing with the government as they try and give you more kids but down right refuse to give you any funds or aid in raising them.

Faraja Children's Home is currently receiving no income other than the few hundred shillings a week she is able to make from selling the chicken eggs that her kids don't eat (a bag of chicken feed costs 2,100 shillings so you can see how counterproductive that is). The home is 100% dependent on donations and charity, and in a country where everyone has a sob story those are not always easy to come by. I remember the very first time I met Moraa she seemed so pleased that Ben, Abi, and I had come to work that day. “Oh good! I can go to town and beg now,” is essentially what she told us. Not before she insisted on taking a cup of tea with us and getting to know her new comers, however. I have never before seen hospitality like this woman. “How are mom and dad,” she asked me within minutes of shaking my hand. Only after I assured her they were well would she excuse herself to the kitchen to bring us a hot cup of chai. It took exactly that; one cup of chai tea in Faraja's rundown living room, for me to realize just how much Moraa loved everyone of these orphans she calls her children.

There are currently 35 orphans living in Faraja. Kepha is the youngest of the kids being just 18 months old, he sticks around the house all day reeking havoc in the most precious way possible. Being gone from him for just two days during the weekend makes my heart ache and I appreciate his snotty nose hugs every Monday through Friday. Marry is the oldest of the gang at 17 years old and is 2^nd in charge behind Moraa. The other 33 kids vary in age, but all of them are more grown up than any numeric value can convey. Many of them have lived rougher lives than I'd wish on anyone. They are scrappers, kids who have the priorities of adults. And anyone who has grown up with siblings knows what it's like. You've got to be a little tougher; that's just fact. Now imagine your siblings just so happen to be a few dozen African orphans?

One might think that with all of this adversary and conflict in their lives that the kids of Faraja would be ornery or unkind. But this couldn't be farther from the truth. They are the definition of family. I enjoy watching the way the children interact with each other because they're love for one another is so apparent. I've seen them share food that's given to them even when they know there is a chance another meal couldn't come for a few days. And their respect for Moraa is transpiring. While the last few paragraphs may sound like a concoction for depression, this also is untrue. I've never met someone so optimistic, hopeful, and caring as Moraa. Her attitude reflects on the kids and the atmosphere of Faraja is always welcoming and positive. Days when I want to ask Moraa “what next,” I just bite my tongue. I know her answer, “God will provide.”

The needs of the Children's Home are innumerable; starting with basic needs (food, money, medicines) ranging all the way to school books/uniforms and new mattresses. Trying to benefit such a place in just 6 weeks seems a daunting task. One I am not sure I am up to, honestly. I never in a thousand years imagined my time working in an orphanage would have involved so much cooking and cleaning and so very little time actually spent with kids (they are at school the majority of the time I am at work, though Abi and I have started staying later in the day to hopefully do some tutorials). Ben has spent nearly two months at Faraja now and is working very hard on a grant proposal to send to some major organizations here and possibly in America. With his success he would bring Moraa an income that would help her with all of the needs of her giant family.

One thing that Outreach Weekend taught me is that projects are best when they are made to be sustaining. Meaning, that while I could stick around here and do a little work at Faraja and hold some flashcards up for some kids, what am I really doing? Soon as I leave it will all be for naught. I want to do something for these kids... something that lasts.

A past volunteer set up a chicken program; meaning set bought chickens and a chicken coop in hope that she could sell the chicken eggs in order to make some money. Which was great in theory, but when things got harder for Moraa the chickens have become difficult to feed which means they stop producing eggs. It is, however, this type of mentality I'd like to have. Some thoughts I've had include writing profiles on all of the children, and hoping to get independent sponsors for them. But where? What about the kids who don't get sponsors? Is there any point in bothering with the profiles? I thought about trying to set up some kind of steady tutoring program (many kids over the age of 13 can't even read), but that seems like such a moot point when they might well be distracted from hunger while being tutored. I hope to go home and do some kind of fundrasing at home, but even then it's not sustainable. Ben and I have been writing to different companies and organizations asking for sponsorship and donations but our luck has been... well... shit.

Here's where you come in. I am asking for you help. Any kind of help I can get. Honestly I'd like to pick your brains more than anything. Help me help Moraa, the kids, and Faraja Children's School. Help me create something sustaining. Your ideas are golden. Feel free to respond in the comments, via email (portia.duke@gmail.com), via facebook (add me with my email) any way you want. If by chance you would like to make a physical donation of some kind you can also contact me at any of the following and I will of course ensure that it's used with every bit of integrity possible.

I would also like to take a second to say thank you to everyone reading my blog, I know there is many people who I have never met who've been keeping up and that means a lot to me. I would also like to thank all the friends and family who helped make this possible, all in your own ways. Your support and company on this journey has been invaluable to me. Thank you, everyone.

By popular request, I present to you pictures of my Kenyan life.

First, a virtual tour of Ngong. Mind you no pictures could even begin to capture the true essence of Ngong, and cameras are not exactly something to flash around while walking alone. But I've done my best.

The view from the main junction in Ngong.



The sweets/ice cream/juice shop I (obviously) frequent.


Side road behind our apartment.


The giant trash heap next to our apartment building.
Often smoking, always covered with goats.


The place I call home.

Next, a couple shots of my roommates.

Issac and Nikki doing what they do best.
(DJing & Eating)


Abi & Ben eating nyama choma mentioned in the previous post.


The Faraja crew

Lastly, a couple random snapshots.

A real live dung beetle.
Worth every bit of the money I paid to come to Africa.

Kids of the KCC slum in Navashia.

Hell's Gate National Park


Hiking through the gorge.


And, of course, puppies.

Shade Butchery

More like Shady Butchery. This post is without a doubt, dedicated to my dad.

Today Ben, Abi, and I went to lunch before going into work. We agreed yesterday that we should get some Nyama Choma soon, so today was the day. Nyama (nuh-yah-muh) Choma (cho-muh) is often called the national dish of Kenya, and stands for 'grilled meat'. It's like Kenyan BBQ. I was starved, and if you know me you know I love meat. Ben told us he knew a good place to get nyama choma and he hasn't led us wrong before (especially on food) so we trusted him. He led us to a place called Shade Butchery. Shade was a total dive. A shack behind another shack. The dingiest and sketchiest looking place I can imagine eating bbq. Well to be fair, the kitchen didn't even really exist so I can't say much on that note. After our fearless leader Ben ordered us some meat and a couple cokes we went to sit at a picnic table in a little cubby to the side of the kitchen. After we sat down a man brought out a couple cutting boards and set them on the table, then returned with about a quarter of a cow. I was shocked, but I could already feel my stomach growling. He set the hunk of meat down and pulled out a giant shank-like knife and proceeded to hack up the nyama choma in front of us. It was the most brutal display of food I've ever seen. When he was done he left us to it. There was no clean proper way to eat this. We ate like animals, and I tell you now; cow has never tasted so good.

When we could take small breaks between chowing down to talk we spoke of how dodgy the place was, and the potential diseases we could get from eating this meat. In the end the food was great, and we paid 400 Ksh ($5ish) for the whole lot of it. Shade Butchery is certainly on my recommendation list if you ever happen to be passing through Kenya.

For desert? None other than a 20 shilling ($0.30) bag of the best sugar cane the street vendors of Ngong can offer.

Meal = success

Joining the Club!

It happened! Way too early in the game I must admit. I was pick-pocketed last night (calm down mom!). I'm fine. My stuff is, thankfully, fine. Here's what happened:

Well, I suppose it might help to say I completely jinxed myself. Yesterday afternoon I was talking to a friend back home and explaining that living in Kenya is worrisome at times, and that's what makes it nice. The risk of danger/theft makes you more alert and I finally feel like I'm actually living. It's certainly not politically correct, squishy, happy America.

So... The four of us had planned to do karaoke, on Tuesday, all weekend. The power had been out all day so we got ready in the dark, and then shortly before leaving it came back on. So, of course, we (the girls) did a few last minute touch ups, causing us to leave when the sun was just setting. Mind you, this is not a dangerous time... well anymore dangerous than most daylight hours at least. The problem with this time of day is that it's rush hour, both on foot and in vehicles here in Kenya. Tons of people walking past you and gone before you can blink an eye. Makes for easy pick-pocketing. However, I'm too smart for that and got on our bus to town without complications. Upon sitting on the bus next to Abi I spotted the front seats were open. You know me... I'm easily amused. So I asked Abi to come sit in the front seat with me. As we moved to the front I sat in the seat next to the window and the rest of our crew (Ben, Nikki, and Naomi's nephew Issac) moved with us. While waiting for the bus to fill and take off I felt something grab my leg. I turned just in time to see a man's arm reaching through the bus window, swiping his hand across my leg, pull his arm out of the window and quickly walk away. It happened so fast, and I didn't really see much, so I just thought it was really odd. I turned to Abi and Nikki and told them what happened and we concluded that it was really strange, but just one of a thousand “this is Africa” moments. Shortly later I reached in my pocket to send a text to my best friend about what had just happened... the rest of the story is pretty simple. I patted down all my pockets and had a giant “DUH” moment. Of course the man had taken my phone, it must have slipped out of my pocket when I sat down, making it visible through the window.

I'm relieved that only my phone was stolen. It could have been a lot worse. I know few people here who have not been pick-pocketed. When I nice looking man walked up to my roommate and asked her to pick up the change he dropped on the ground, she was robbed of her wallet (debit cards, money, ids, ect). My other roommate got his passport stolen and is kinda stranded here in Kenya. The schemes are endless; “Quick! Police! Put on your seat-belt” someone will yell, then while you're distracted they'll relieve you of your Ipod, camera, wallet, $20 phone, anything really. Their job is to steal, and they are damn good at it. If you're not sitting in the middle seat (easy target) on a matatu they'll claim they are going to vomit and need to sit next to the window, forcing you to move to the most vulnerable seat on the ride. Thankfully we've been given prior knowledge to the majority of these tricks, but that certainly doesn't stop people from trying. I never carry all my money on me at once, never carry my debit card on me unless absolutely necessary, and haven't taken my passport out once. I'm generally very cautious of my surroundings and now that I've joined the club I hope I will be more careful in the future.

Another problem with pick-pockets in Kenya is that it's really hard to do anything about it. The police couldn't possibly care less, and often times the crooks will turns things on you. And sure, you can tell a local that's nearby or scream at the thief. But there is a 50/50 chance that vigilant justice will take over and the perpetrator will be beat to death before anyone can stop the madness. As you can imagine it's generally easier to just let go of your belongings rather than play Russian Roulette with someone else's life over replaceable goods.

So for those of you interested my NEW Kenyan number is: 0787211167. I don't advise calling me for any reason really, the charges are absurd. If you need to get in contact with me text me and ask me to call you, though I will warn you that some charges may apply. For the people waiting on my address: I'm working on it! The places here don't actually have addresses. It's kinda like this; Ngong Road on the corner after you turn left at the gas station. Not quite the kinda thing you wanna write on a post card. I know it's possible to send donations to the Fadaili office however I haven't been able to get in touch with them for the last few days and I promise to call again today.

Not For Vegitarians

Just a quick post before I go back to work today.



Last night some friends and I went to Carnivore in Nairobi. It's basically the Kenyan version of Texas De Brazil. All you can eat meat. Our meal started off with some minestrone soup and drinks. I ordered a cocktail called a Dawa that I've been waiting to try for ages. The Dawa is a Kenyan specialty made table side with vodka, honey, lime and sugar cane. It was pretty strong but not too bad. After soup came the main courses. Meat. We started out with some lamb, pork, turkey, beef, and bull balls. Then we got to the real treat of the meal, the exotic meats. We sampled camel, crocodile, and ostrictch meatballs. I tried everything, but the ostritch meatballs were my favorite (everyone else agrees). We absolutely stuffed ourselves. Then for desert I had cheesecake (I've been craving some SGFC!). To make the chzcake a little more adventurous and local they topped it with a passion fruit sauce which was lovely. In the end my bill was about 3,500 shillings and my tummy was quite satisfied.



Our trip home was a nightmare!! First off our driver had no idea he had to drive us all the way to Ngong even though we told him repeatedly. Then... we ran out of gas at a petrol station. He was baffled that he could get gas from the closed station we stopped at and decided the best idea was to lock two young mzungo girls in the car and walk away. He left us in the car alone for about 20 minutes while he went to go search for gas (mind you he didn't inform us that he was leaving). There were people just standing outside the car staring at us like dogs in a cage. It was pretty scary (considering we've been warned to stay off the streets at night a thousand times). Oh well... this is Africa. You go with the flow and hope for the best. Eventually he came back on a motorbike with some gas and put enough in the tank to get us to Ngong.





This morning Abi and I walked to town to barter over some chicken feed then we cooked Ugi (flour and water porrige) for the first time mostly by ourselves and the kids who came home from lunch even said it was good. Go us! I tried to eat it but I really couldn't it was awful to be honest. I came to town to grab a bite and post a blog real quick, but now it's time to go back to Faraja. This week I'm going to focus on getting to know the kids and making sure they are comfortable around me so that I can make the most of my time with them. I'm thinking about organizing a soccer game on Friday! Hope it goes well.





I should have a pretty good post up sometime this week that gives a better look at Kenyan lifestyle. See ya then!

Just got home from Outreach (4.5 hours late) and I have to say I have never looked forward to Ugali (Oo-gah-li) so much! I was starved. Now my stomach has nearly as much to digest as my head.

My weekend started at 5:30ish on Friday when Abi and I woke up and caught our first Matatu (a minibus used as public transportation, more on these to follow in future posts) all by ourselves. Pretty uneventful besides the conductor trying to charge us double the normal fare. Then we met with the other volunteers at Junction and grabbed my very first Kenyan coffee before setting off on our adventures.

First stop was the KCC Slum in Navashia. This was easily the most mild project we saw all weekend, and even so it was heartbreaking. KCC is currently home to about 6000 people who were living in metal shacks and had no access to clean water. The housing accommodations for the people of the slum were what shocked me the most. Can you imagine living in an aluminum heat of African summer? Honestly though, to me, KCC was an experience of hope and inspiration. The volunteers took the initiative into their own hands and have since then set up a school (all the teachers being women of the slum) and have been able to provide the children with lunch five days a week.

Reading to the kids during activity time.

One of the many faces from the KCC Slum

After feeding the kids and spending lots of time playing different activities with them we left for Hells Gate National Park. This was (obviously) the fun part of the weekend. It started out with a four mile bike ride through the park. For someone who is chronically lazy and hasn't ridden a bike in many many years I have to say I did quite well. On the ride down to the gorge we saw the famous Pride Rock and actually had to stop once to let some zebras cross the road in front of us. It was pretty wild, no pun intended. When we got to the end of the bike ride we started our descent into the gorge..barefoot (due to rising water levels). I can now say I've successfully hiked in Africa sans shoes. It was absolutely breathtakingly beautiful. No pictures can do it justice. After making it back to the top of the gorge we headed to Gilgil where we would be staying for the night. The HOT SHOWERS at our hotel were worth every penny of the $130 we paid to go on the Outreach weekend. Running water is a rarity here in Kenya, but to get a hot shower is an event to be cherished.

In the gorge! How I didn't break my neck will forever remain a mystery.

Pushing our matatu out of the mud.

In the morning we had breakfast and then started our next project; divvying four 90k bags of flour into about 240 smaller 1.5L bags for distribution to the people of the IDP camp and Garbage slum. Then we loaded the bags into the matatu and set out for Vumilia IDP. As we were driving across the mud-filled field our matatu spun off the dirt road and into the bush facing 180 degrees in the opposite direction. Then we proceeded to get stuck in the mud as we tried to get back the road. Children came running from the camp to help us get the truck unstuck, it was precious. In the end we (the volunteers) pushed it out of the mud and we finally made it to IDP .

The Vumilia IDP (Internally Displaced People) camp was quite an eye opener. It was the first time since coming to Kenya I didn't feel like I was ready to see the things that I saw. The luckier people of Vumilia are living in 'tents' that the UN provided in 2007 after the violence, which is fine... except that the tents were only made to last six months. The not-so-lucky people have made their own tents from flour sacks and sticks. When we were invited inside of a 'home' the heat was unbearable. The tents also leak causing mold and damp beds. The heat, along with the mold, made the air hard to breath and being in the tent for just ten minutes left me feeling dizzy. For these same reasons many of the people at the camp have respiratory problems that they cannot get medication for. One thing that I feel like really sets the IDP camp apart from some of the other slums here is that these people had no choice but to relocate. They lost their property, their homes, and in some cases their families because of other people's actions. Then when the government promised each family 10,000 shillings in repercussion it was stolen from them by a middle man leaving them nothing once again. These people had lives, jobs, educations. Now they are depending on the small bag of flour they get every two weeks and prostituting their daughters for extra money. The volunteers placed at the IDP camp have started a school and also feed the kids Ugi (a water and flour porridge, no nutritional value) a couple times a week. This seems to be successful so far and I hope it continues to work well for them.

A woman working in her garden outside her home in the IDP camp.

Last comes the Gioto Garbage Slum. I have researched the slum quite a bit before I came to Kenya, so I thought I knew what to expect... I was wrong. Upon approaching the slum the smell became repugnant. Tons and tons of trash in heaps rotting away, I suppose I should have expected this. Trying to breath as little as possible as our matatu navigated the pathways through the dump I was shocked to see children who couldn't be a day over four sorting through the garbage. When we finally made it to the top of the hill we exited the car and were greeted by a man who would show us around. He first gave us some history on the slum. It has been in existence for nearly 17 years now meaning some of the kids there have never seen life out side of the slum. Rape is prominent, so there are tons of unwanted pregnancies, and approximately 40% of the population is HIV positive. Along with the smell there were flies everywhere and since it's beginning the rainy season we were covered in mud within minutes of exiting the matatu. Mud isn't generally a big deal, but imagine your 'house' is located on a hill of trash... as water rushes down the hill is sweeps mud and trash through your bedroom floor. Mind you the houses (10x10 huts) were also built from trash found at the dump; plastic siding, sheets of metal if you're lucky, and old towels. All held together with branches and junk, one could hardly call them sturdy. Since so many of the girls are getting pregnant so fast the majority of the homes accommodate four generations of family at a time. Digging through garbage for a living, cramming 8-9 people in a tiny damp hut... can you imagine the disease? However, as with the first two projects, there is some hope being made in the Gioto Garbage Slum. Volunteers have set up a school for some of the younger children (though is recently collapsed) and better yet have raised funds to send 15 of the older kids to boarding school. Currently they are working on gathering sponsors for the other children to help get them out of that place and into boarding schools where they eat three times a day and have a chance at a decent education.

A child collecting plastic bottles to sell for his families income.


The garbage dump, notice the houses in the background.

That was my weekend. It was absolutely incredible and horrible at the same time. I've seen things like this my whole life on the news and in National Geographic, but to be there smell it, see it, hear the children crying... it changed my life. Media makes things so easy to ignore and tune out. If it's ugly and not perfect you change the channel or pick up a gossip magazine instead. The experience was sobering in ways I can't explain. This weekend made me want to live. I may not be able to give all the money I'd like to these people but I can do my part by getting the word out there. I am not going to turn this into a guilt trip or beg for your money or donations. I will say, however, that if any of these causes strike you (like sponsoring a child) or you would like to find out more information please please get in touch with me. I can put you in contact with some really wonderful people.

One thing I will ask, and will harass you to do is to vote for the Gioto Garbage Slum here. They are in a competition of sorts for a $5,000 grant, and of last time I checked they were in first place. Please help us keep it that way. The money they would win would be able to send many more of the children to boarding school and with the feeding program among more. It only takes a couple minutes, and I was able to do it from a dinky internet cafe in Ngong, Kenya.

Just a couple photos

Kepha helping us sweep up the maize and beans after sorting them.

Abi and I washing dishes at Faraja.



The mart a couple houses down from the volunteer home.






It's damn near impossible to upload pictures here. I am genuinely shocked that this even worked (though my bill may be absurd for taking up extra bandwith), so here are a few for now. I'll post more if possible at a later time.

I've been in Kenya about half a week now and I'm having such a great time. I don't even know where to begin. Since I last posted I have gone through orientation (pretty boring, but I did get to eat meat for the first/only time) and arrived at my new placement. I am currently staying in Ngong. It's a town about twenty minutes outside of Nairobi. I've heard that it's the place where Out of Africa is set, but I'm not sure about the validity of that. The town is awesome, I've explored a small bit (enough to find out where to get ice cream and top up on my minutes) and today one of the other volunteers who has been here for a month already showed us a juice shop where I got some delicious passion mango fruit juice.

I am staying here with Abi (the English girl from the last post), Ben and Nikki (who've both been here for a month), and our host mom (Naomi, whom I haven't gotten to know much yet, but she seems quite nice). So far this place is wonderful.

This weekend I am going on an Outreach Weekend. Myself along with lots of other volunteers will meet at Junction at 7:15 on Friday and spend the weekend visiting three projects set up exclusively by other volunteers. The KCC slum in Naivasha first. Then we're going to Hells Gate to hike/bike. The next project we'll go to is the Vumilia IDP (Internally Displaced People) camp, I am really interested to go to this because it is a camp of people who were displaced by the political falling out of the 2008 election. For those of you who don't know I was supposed to visit Kenya in 2009, however opted out due to the issues caused by the election. And last, and most anticipated, the Gioto Garbage Slum .

I am really excited for all of this, but also ready to get back so I can get into a routine without moving around constantly.

Today I went to work for the first time, at a place called Faraja Children's Home. The home is ran by a woman named Moraa, who takes Kenyan hospitality to a whole new level. The house is so small and shelters Moraa plus the 35 orphans she calls her children. Kepha is a young genius at just one and a half who spend the day with Moraa while the rest of the 34 children go to school during the day. I've only spent one day here, but I really like it. I am excited to get to know the kids and help out and spend more time getting to know Moraa. Abi and I are hoping to find a way to take the kids out for a day of fun, hopefully to the Monkey Park in Nairobi.

The children's home is completely unfunded by any kind of organization. The only income the house has in the few chicken eggs that Moraa is able to scrounge up from the chickens (when she can feed them) and sell. Other then that she begs, and depends on donations. However the house is not big or well known like some of the other organizations here. Ben, one of the other volunteers I'm working/living with, is attempting to create awareness and get some sponsors for the home but from here it is a slow and tedious process. You can view his blog and his view of the Faraja home here.

I am happy to learn more about the house and the kids, and know I will have so much more to say about them.

This place is unreal. Waking up at 7am to goats bleeting outside my window, walking down the road and hearing kids screaming “Mzungu (white person), how are you?” over and over, the best produce I've ever tasted. Everything about Kenya, it's so different from the world I know. The people are so hospitable, always telling you “karibu” (you're welcome) to their house, their food, everything even when they can hardly afford to feed themselves. There hasn't been a time yet where I've felt uncomfortable here be it in someone's home or walking down Ngong road. And the food is incredible! I can't believe I'm eating it, but everything that has been placed in front of me I have been surprised to enjoy it so much. I could go on forever, but I need to make a run to Nakumatt to pick up some stuff and also make it to a Cyber to post this, so I should probably stop babbling.

Post again when I can.

Karibu Kenya!

First blog post from Kenya! I can't believe I am here. It's so wonderful, I am absolutely smitten with this place already. I arrived at JBO airport at 8:30pm last night and easily found my bags, got my visa, ect. Then I walked down to the arrivals gate where I was greeted by a sea of people holding signs with peoples names and cab companies. I found the person there to pick me up (sadly no sign with my name though). He was a Kenyan man named Benjamin. On the way to the car he asked me where I was from and I told him Texas. His reply was classic. “Oh!! Texas, just like Chick Norris” he said. After we loaded my bags into the car I stood waiting by the door to get in, Ben stood there as well staring at me odddly before saying “Umm... miss, you use other door.” Derp. Of course Africans drive on the right side of the car.


When I arrived at the volunteer house the power was out, this kind of freaked me out b/c I didn't think that kind of thing happened much in Nairobi, but all things considered it was okay since I went straigt to sleep. I was told there was only one other lady here, and that really worried me. Thankfully however I was woken up a couple hours later to the arrival of three more girls. We didn't talk (mostly because I was asleep) until this morning though.


At six o'clock I saw one of last night's arrivals in the bed next to mine, I could tell she was awake but neither of us knew quite what to say. Finally I got out of bed to look out my window and we struck up a conversation. My roommate (for now) is a Brazillian girl named Thais. She is very nice and has traveled a fair amount. She laughed at me when I said I did not know of Rio and explained “You know, beaches, hot girls, the samba” I think I know what she means now, and she's promised to teach me how to use Kilometers and Celsius temperatures later today since “American's just make it so difficult.” Soon we ventured off into the other bedroom to meet the other girls. Two Canadian's named Victoria (18 yrs) and Erica (17 yrs). There is also Kristian (sorry, if I butchered the spelling!) a nice lady who is from a little bit of everywhere, but mostly France and the US. Soon Wumbai (the host lady here) served us breakfast, toast with peanut butter (I thought of you Kaitlin!!) and some bananas. It was yummy. The food here seems to be utilized well, made to fill you up and give you some protein in a cheap manner.


After breakfast a few more girls arrived (Kristin, 25, California. And Abbey, 18, England). Then we walked to Nakumatt (think Kenyan Wal-mart) and got cell phones. The walk there was so nice, however it also confirmed that I am definitely not in America anymore, things here are so different. But so far I am loving every second of it.


On the way into our neighborhood the first kind of scary thing happened. As we were walking in I saw a man collapse in the street and start to seize and vomit. No one stopped to help him or even blink an eye. People just walked on by. Myself and a couple other girls looked to Mika (the lady to walked us to Nakumatt) in concern and she said to just keep walking. It disturbed me a bit, but realistically there isnt much I could/should do. Life here isn't perfect, but that is what makes it so beautiful. Being surrounded by so many different nationalities is awesome. I love sitting and listening to everyone talk. Thais pausing occasionally to try and remember the English word for something,Abbey's precious accent, and the occasional British infused “fuck!” is like music to my ears.


Anyway, orientation is supposed to be at 9am tomorrow, so hopefully then I'll have a more permanent place to stay. I can not wait for the next six weeks!

The internet connection is intensely slow here, I will upload a couple pics when possible, but to be honest I don't expect that to be anytime soon.

2 Flights Down, 1 To Go

I'm not much for eloquent words right now. My head is kinda spinny, I'm surrounded by every nationality but my own (not that I'm complaining, just makes things a bit disorienting.) Oh, perhaps it would be pertinent to tell you I am sitting at my gate in the Amsterdam airport as I type this.

Everything has gone splendidly today. I woke up, not too stressed or worried. Mostly just wanting some coffee. My family dropped me off at DFW, got some breakfast, flew to Minneapolis, got some lunch, flew here, and well... tried to get some food. I'm not sure if it would be considered breakfast (it's nearly 8am here) or lunch. Regardless, I didn't eat much of it.

Anyway, all is well. I should be in Kenya by night fall.

Here We Go

I would like to start off by saying that while I may not be able to play Tetris to save my life, I can pack a suitcase like no one's business.

On a more serious note, I leave tomorrow morning at 9:55am! I have a layover in Minneapolis and one in Amsterdam. I should be arriving in Nairobi at 8:30pm on Sunday. I still cannot believe it. I have wanted to go to Africa (Kenya specifically) for as long as I can remember. I've always assumed that my dream of going to work in an orphanage was just that... a dream.

People ask me how I made this happen, and I really don't really have a solid answer. The best I've got is this: I wanted it. I worked my ass off, and thought of nearly nothing else for months. I stopped saying "someday I'm going to go to Kenya," and instead said "I'm going to Kenya, ASAP." Four months later, innumerable hours of work (and plenty more spent daydreaming), a couple emails, and I'm on my way.

I've researched this off and on for years, but none of that could prepare me for the way I feel right now. My brain is going ninety to nothing trying to make sure everything is packed and that I've made all the right preparations. Realistically though, I'm passed that point. I am doing my best to proceed with open eyes and without expectations. I am as ready as I ever will be.

So, here goes nothing...

Productive!

Finally, a day that was utilized to the most of its ability! I've been procrastinating everything till the last minute, naturally. Today I went to the airport to confirm my plane ticket and ran almost all the rest of my errands. Best of all though, I accomplished all of this while hanging out with my best friend. We also had a going away dinner at Babe's, and while we were there I took notice of all the honey and sauces that they had on sale. Thinking that it might be nice to bring one with me for my host family I went to check them out. This picture just happened to be placed on top of the display:



In case you can't read that, due to my sucky camera phone, it says "Babe's Chicken... now famous in Nairobi, Kenya"

Pivot Point Free Till May

Saltgrass Steakhouse; it is the epitome of a love-hate relationship. Kind of like your annoying little sister, you want to strangle her whenever she is around but as soon as she's gone you wish she was there.

Today was my last day at work for the next six weeks. I held it together pretty well, but to be honest I'm gonna miss that place and those people more than I let on. Everyone there (as much as they pick on me) seems to be really supportive, and I know there is a couple girls who would like to have the same opportunity someday. It was nice to leave with their well-wishings, and gave me a little more confidence in myself since mine own seems to be waning in these last few days. And, potentially most importantly, a lovely girl named Tanya brought me cupcakes... with sprinkles. How nice is that?!

It's certainly not the best job in the world, but the people I've met there have, without a doubt, changed my life. I've been there for one year as of this month, and looking back to the person I was when I started and the person I am now is mind boggling. And, let's face it, had I not had this job there is no way this trip would have been possible. I can't think of any other job I'd rather endure 60 hour work weeks at, or for that matter any other cause.

So, goodbye SGFC, until Mayish. You will be missed.

One week to go and accidently packed.

One week to go. Yikes. This week I accomplished more or less nothing... up until about an hour ago that is.

For a while I have been setting things for my trip aside as I came across them; some bug spray, a couple pair of old shoes to give to a child who needs them, playing cards, medicines, ect. Well, my Portia-esque 2am productivity kicked in and I thought to myself that I should go ahead and put those things into my suitcase, so that they don't get misplaced. An hour later, here I sit, very nearly packed. I'm not sure what happened. I just started tossing things into the suitcase and before I knew it I was like, "okay! done!" I still have some stuff to pick up at the store, and I guarantee that suitcase will be unpacked and repacked about once a day till I leave. But for the most part I'm set.


The number one bit of advice I have received since I started 'studying' for this adventure was NOT to over-pack. My goodness, I am a stress-aholic, 20 year old female, going alone to a developing country, for a month and a half... don't over-pack? You're kidding me, right? That seems impossible. However, when it comes down to it trying to pack 'the perfect suitcase' will drive me absolutely mad. I'll worry that I forgot something, that whatever I packed is insufficient, that I should have brought more long sleeved clothes... the list is never ending. So for once, I think I'm just going to skip the worry and assume that whatever I leave my house with will workout, and if not I'll pick things up along the way.

I am torn between wanting time to speed up and slow down. I have a lot left to do this week, however since my last day of work is on Tuesday I should have plenty of time to get everything done. Kila la kheri, (good luck) to me. :)

Lists

I am a compulsive list maker. I make lists about making lists. My to-do lists have everything on them, from 'sleep' to 'wake up' 'do laundry' to 'make new to-do list.' It's a pretty strange habit that I think I inherited from my mother (she is a compulsive sticky-note user, though the same concept still applies).
Anyway, I make lists... for everything. In the last week I have made more lists than I could ever fathom all because of this trip. Things to do, things to buy, things to pack, things to worry about, things to be excited about... a plethora of things.

Then, I found this site. Which allows you to customize your packing list for the duration/location/activities of your personal trip. It's all pretty generic, but it has tons of little things from experienced travelers that I would have never thought of on my own. Plus it's nice not to have to compile the list myself once in a while.