Karibu sana, Charity

(C with her girls, Precious and Jane)

Charity finally and successfully received our money the other week. She had this to say:

"Oh my goodness!!! Lisette I got the money, it was big surprise!! Asante Lisette and your family, God bless you. Tell your mama that I have real appreciation, for she has sacrificed her birthday treat to treat me. I cannot describe the generosity. You are also amazing, sure I have not enough words to use saying thanks a lot. Lisette, allow me to say that you and your family are great to me. Love you, Charity"

My friend Katie, who is closer to Charity than anyone, told me that Charity called her and said she was trembling when she received our money. Charity went on to tell me again that we are kind, generous, caring, and amazing.

It's incredible how much $20, $30, $40, etc, here and there -- money we can easily spend at the grocery store or shopping elsewhere without thinking -- can have such an intense impact on one person.

Asante sana, jamii.. x 1,000,000.

A broad volunteering, part 8... Home!

Hello everyone!

Well, I've been home for a couple of weeks and it's beginning to feel a lot more normal. Leaving Kenya was harder than I expected it to be. I was prepared to be sad when I left, but stupidly thought arriving home would erase all that. Someone doesn't know herself very well, hah.

I think I experienced my own version of "culture shock" when I got home. I prepped myself to have that the same feeling I did the first time I came home from college -- the kiss the ground sort of excitement and the feeling that you haven't been there for years -- but I didn't at all. Everything seemed so normal that it felt like I hadn't even gone to Africa, as if it never happened. I will say that in social situations it felt very odd and I found myself being a lot more quiet than I usually am, which is not quiet at all. Anyway, I'm feeling better now. The realization that I was there and am not anymore comes in waves and, I suppose, will continue to do so for some time. Describing my time in Kenya is close to impossible, and when I read over my previous blog entries I'm not happy with the job I've done. A lot of it is so personal that it's really not meant to be blogged about though, and I think the same applies to the way I'm feeling now. It's hard to not want to tell people about it because some of the things feel infinitely more important than what the food was like, but are sort of random and quite difficult to describe.

There were so many times that I would think, my gosh, I have to tell everyone about this, but never did. About two weeks before I left Charity's younger brother, John, 24, was shot and killed by a police officer. They had been chasing robbers, one of which ran into his apartment. John looked over the balcony to see what was going on and an officer shot him in the head. Charity was devastated. We all went to the funeral and I ended up riding in the hearse, directly next to the casket. It was so emotional and the bumpy roads we were driving over were surrounded by this absolute lush farm land, it was just this insane "I'm in Africa" moment. How do you describe these things? Saying it felt spiritual feels trite because I think that words gets so overused by hippie dippie people, but what can I say? It was spiritual. So many times were like this and truly awe-some.

There's just too much to say, and if this blog were all about me I'd write post after post describing my favorite boys at the Rehab and giving a tour of what my days were like. Since I don't, I've deciding to break it down to my top 5 favorite parts about the past four months.

5) Matatus.

I've written about them before, but there is no way to adequately describe them unless you experience it first hand. Legally they sit 14 people, but the numbers are often in the 20s. They are cramped, often smelly, loud, terrifying, cheap, and the best way to feel like you are one of the locals. How can you replicate being seated in between a 60-year-old Kenyan woman while her sacks of maize jab into your side, and a man who has to morph his body to fit in the vehicle causing your head to be squashed in his armpit?

4) #5, Mugumo Lane.

Our house was sandwiched between a rich Danish plantation owner and a member of Parliament, and if it was trying to keep up with those houses, it failed miserably, but we loved it so. We had monkeys in our backyard the same way we have squirrels at home and multiple geckos that rested peacefully on our living room walls. It was green and green and green outside and afforded me the opportunity to meet dozens of volunteers, some of which became my best friends whom I love and miss terribly. It's going to be one of my strong, strong memories of Kenya.

3) The people that made #5 Mugumo Lane work: Charity and Mouli.

I've told you all about Charity, our wonderful house mother. The more I think about her the more I realized how much she taught me. I mentioned her brother being killed and if anything or anyone acted as a face to the violence in Africa and the total injustice, this did. The two things I thought about when this happened were Brent and that this was how her husband was killed. This event definitely brought us even closer as we talked for hours about loss and mourning and faith. This woman is strong, strong, strong ( and gets paid less than $2 a day).

Me and C, red-eyed on my last night. It was very hard to say goodbye to my mama away from home.

On a lighter note, our gardener/handyman/groundskeeper?, Mouli, was just about my favorite Kenyan and I don't know how I never mentioned him before. Even though he is a 76-year-old with bad arthritis, he worked tirelessly on our yard every single day and took such pride in his gardens. He had a sort of apartment in our backyard but spent his evenings in his hut where he cooked his food over the fire and played his guitar on Sundays. He spoke no English, but greeted us every morning and afternoon when we left and came back from work, and was the cutest and the sweetest character there.

Mouli and Kyle, on a Sunday of course, in front of his hut.

2) My walks to work. Starting on my first day volunteering, I loved, loved, loved my walk to work. It's silly, but getting off the matatu at Wangige Market and be able to weave my way through it as the only white person gave me such confidence. It was so local and so Kenyan.

Walking the dirt paths to the orphanage was the best welcome to Kenya and so therapeutic when I was feeling homesick or overwhelmed. And that God-forsaken hill at the end of the day was a serious test of my will power (there is an option to bypass it and just take a matatu to the market place).

It was my most personal time in Kenya, and was the best, and only, time to be alone, listen to my ipod, and think.. and there is nothing it the world like it.

1) Teresia, Mama, and the rehab boys.. duh. I don't miss anything like I miss these chumps. Saying goodbye to them and the rest of the kiddos was awful and, wait for it... I sobbed! Can you believe it? So new for me.

The rehab boys are all wonderful in their own ways. These poor boys have tough, tough lives and you want to perform miracles for the honest and hard working ones, because where did they get it from? I had my clique, and I think I picked well -- they were such good boys. They are truly hysterical and I marvel at the humor they have considering their circumstances.

Then there is Mama...

...one of the best and purest people I know. Every volunteer loves him, but I am cocky enough to say that I love him more. Him shrieking my name when I came in the mornings ("Auntie Leeesette!") will be forever burned in my brain. Being special-needs and HIV Positive, he's an easy target, but after spending hours tutoring him most afternoons and snuggling him afterwards, I like to think we formed a much bigger relationship that the normal lovin he got from others. I'm really giving myself a lot of credit here, but just let me think it.

And lastly is Teresia, absolute perfection. I love her very much, and Mama comes close, but she's been my number one since I began. I wish you could all meet her, she's just so gorgeous.

I could cry (I do cry!) I miss her so much.

Well, I think that's it, folks. Thank you all for being so supportive and just being so "there." When I think back to myself in March and how anxiety-ridden and homesick I was, I think, Oh gosh, let's not do that again. But, I loved it. And thank you for reading my rambling and long blog posts. They were sometimes all over the place, but it will be fun for me to go back and read it later on. I don't know if I've come back "changed" as everyone says you will, but I'm still digesting and figuring it all out. While in Kenya, you all were my constant and I couldn't appreciate you more. And Mike, I know you're reading this at work, so thank you, too. You were/are the best. I love you all loads.

Kwaheri, Afrika. Nakumiss sana. Na asante, asante, asante sana, jamii.. ninapende wewe :) Lalena selama!

xoxo Lisette

A broad volunteering, part 7

Habari family!

Sorry it's been so long since I've last posted (although you all might be relieved about it -- I was sort of taking over this blog). I can't believe it's June already. As with most things, this past (almost) three months have gone by so quickly and, at the same time, I feel like I've been here forever.

Just as Cy advised, my two month (and halfway) mark came and I realized how comfortable and happy I've become in Kenya. It's become my home and I can say with all honesty that I love it here. Aside from missing Mike, I no longer have those cravings for home and, as I'm sure you can all imagine, it's incredibly refreshing. At the beginning of May just about everyone I had been living with left and I suppose a sort of mental switch went off. This place can mess with your head a bit -- no matter how diligent you are with work you can still feel like you're not accomplishing anything. There are so many emotions involved that I wasn't suspecting. I knew I might feel like I wasn't doing enough, but you can also feel like you aren't taking advantage of the opportunity, probably because there is just so much to see and do. It's a bit hard to explain since it was a bunch of frazzled internal dialogue, but I guess I just wanted to buckle down and stop missing home and begin realizing -- finally -- that I was in Kenya and most likely would never be here again. I set some personal goals and made a list of things to change and do, and it really worked. I walk to and from work on my own, most days, and the alone time and independence has been so unexpectedly wonderful. I feel in control over my time and, even better, I feel like I've earned it. Does that make sense?

I've switched placements and now work at the Rehabilitation Center and am still getting my bearings there, but the boys are wonderful. I still go to Caroline's most afternoons, and I love the women and, of course, the kiddos there more and more. Not sure how I'll leave. Anyway, as with all things in Africa, my actual job at the Rehab is disorganized but there is always something to do. I get to teach, which is the most exciting part considering I only acted as a substitute at Caroline's, and that was pretty rare. I don't have my own classroom everyday, but there aren't always enough teachers for each class, so I act as the sub. This past month I took on the project of redoing the rec room, which was originally a chemistry-lab-turned-art room. It's pretty decrepit with holes in the ceiling and rotting counters and, since I don't have the funds to do a total renovation, I decided just to give it a good clean and paint job. The boys don't really have any space that's there own, other than the crowded dorms, and I just think it's so important to have a place like that. All the other volunteers helped me out with the painting and the boys were more than eager to join as well (although we had to kick them out the past couple of days -- it was getting pretty chaotic). I was and am so happy to do this for them and I just hope that they actually get to use it. In March, other volunteers tried to set up a library for the boys, which they loved even though it was a small room with barely any books, and then the teachers claimed it as a lounge. I told the headteacher that I wanted to paint the rec room but only if the it would be used by the boys and them alone. He agreed, but the majority of the staff there are ridiculous, so we'll see what actually happens. Still have more work to be done in the room, but I'm staying optimistic!

Organizing the troops..

..and getting our paint on.

It was a loooooong day.

I'll show before and after pics when it's fully finished!

This video was taken the first day we started working on the room. My apologies for the crummy camera work and Kyle's terrible dancing. Katie and Kyle are best friends from Canada and they're terrific. Also, that first little guy dancing is Raymond, my number one at the school.



I've also become quite close with my house-mother, Charity, something that is far more gratifying than I had expected. Since I have been here the longest I have somewhat become the go-to person for her, and I really enjoy it. She's really remarkable and it's insane what she's been through for a 32-year-old. Just to update you all on the VICDA predicament, I did speak with them about a month ago. I never mentioned Charity, just pretended I was very money conscious and wanted to make sure out funds were broken down properly. I received a very defensive response and the next day Charity was yelled at. We came home to her nearly in tears, nervous she would loose her job. Ugh, why did I even try? They are really terrible human beings.

What else, what else. I've been trying to take advantage of all my weekends here and do day trips. A few weeks ago I went to the Karen Blixen Museum, which is her actual house, and I think that was one of the times that I most wanted you guys there. It was just so cool and I teared up a bit, which is shocking since I'm usually a really unemotional person (but I think it had a lot to do with wishing you all were with me). I also hiked the Ngogn Hills the other week, which is something I have been wanting to do it since my first weekend here and have planned and canceled so many times. It was gorgeous, gorgeous, but a lot harder than I thought (Oy, my buns!). Also, on the way home I was pick-pocketed in Nairobi and even though I caught the guy, he got away with my camera. I then proceeded to go home and have a bit of a mental breakdown. It just sort of killed the day, which was so good, and made all my frustrations with Kenya surface. But, all is fine now. Just had to go to my bottom bunk (hah), talk to Mike, and cry a bit.

As far as "frustrations" with Kenya goes, I've come to see mine are very minimal compared to others. I've seen many volunteers become very negative about this place, and I think that frustrates me more than Kenya itself. Yes, the corruption is INSANE (I could go on and on about VICDA) and the people can be dishonest and rude, but my God, didn't we know that coming into it? I see people allow these issues to take over there time here and it's sad. I would say my biggest issue, from day one, has been the lack of pride I see in Kenyans. At home, asking for handouts is humbling and, often, humiliating. Here it is second nature and the total norm. Developing relationships with locals is one of the upsides to living here, but when they turn and ask you for money it makes the friendship feel fake and is very defeating. But why let it ruin the experience? It's too bad some volunteers can't see past it. There is so much good here, and I'm happy I'm able to concentrate on it (which is why the camera incident was so frustrating -- I felt like I was turning into them!). Looking back, being Catholic has helped me tremendously here. For all the obvious reasons, but hugely in this area. Faith and Hope, Faith and Hope -- duuuuh.

Once again this post is way too long and I congratulate all of you who read it entirely. Once last shout-out to my boy, Thug. I'm sure you're feeling so much better than you did when we spoke last week, but I love you and TRUST ME, it gets better and better :)

Home soon, losers. Can you believe it???

xoxo Lisette

Uganda

Because I often get so jealous of you all sitting at home together, showering at your leisure, laying on the couch and watching TV, etc, etc, I thought it was my turn to make you all feel the same. A group of us went to Uganda this week, and it's the most incredible place I have ever seen -- even tops safari. To all you fans out there, I felt like I was in Disney's Tarzan.


Also, I got to do a couple of cool things..

Like bungee jump 145 feet over the Nile. It was terrifying.

Annnnd go white water rafting. Not as terrifying as you would think, but so much fun!



Our day in Uganda coincided with a father-son duo from Brazil who are doing this huge documentary/magazine issue about Africa, so we might be in it! There website is http://www.lightsofafrica.com. I plan on going back next month with the volunteers that didn't go this time around, just to lay around and read.

Till next time!

xoxo Lisette

A broad volunteering, part 6

Ahoy, family! It's been a busy past couple of weeks and there is much to share. As always, I'll try, but not succeed in, condensing it down.

A couple of weeks ago VICDA (again, our partner organization in Kenya) decided to have the new volunteers' orientation at our volunteer house (however, the newbies aren't living with us). With them were a group of people from the Global Volunteer Network (GVN) including the founder, Colin Salisbury, and it was pretty neat. Colin is very down to earth and not at all self-important, and it felt very comforting to have them there. I know this will sound terrible, but sometimes it's so nice to be around white people! But it wasn't just that, it was also enjoyable to watch VICDA be on there best behavior, as GVN is pretty much in charge of them. We all have our own issues with VICDA. One being they often berate Charity and have said very insulting things to her (ie, pretty much insinuating she has relations with the male volunteers, which is more than absurd). And two, that they get money out of program fee that covers our rent, breakfast, dinner, etc, yet when more volunteers come to live at the house, they do not up the allowance given to Charity for her to do shopping. It remains the same whether there are two volunteers or twelve. Not only is this an incredible source of stress for Charity, but makes us wonder what our money is going towards, if not our groceries? After speaking with Charity, I have decided to call VICDA and simply ask how our money is being dispersed. As a whole new crop of volunteers are coming up this weekend, I don't think it will seem entirely out of place.

Aside from that, I have been keeping myself busy by visiting a couple of other children's homes as well as an IPD camp and Kibera. I think I'll continue to go to various homes throughout my stay, as it's not only a nice break throughout the week but also offers a more comprehensive idea of how homes are run in Kenya. It's helpful to compare and contrast, and also just interesting to meet new people.

As my two month mark approaches in two weeks (Kenya believe it?), I have the option to change placements, and per usual, I am having a tough time deciding what to do. What I would ideally like to do is begin teaching at the Rehabilitation Center, where other volunteers I live with work at. It is for teenage boys and I suppose it's meant to be a sort of juvenile detention, but not really. Most of their crimes were absolutely petty, but Kenya is harsh. I wouldn't be able to leave Caroline's completely (I love the children too much), so I'd continue to go there once a week. But what I'm also thinking very hard about is spending some time at the IDP camp in June. IPD camps are for displaced families (many as result form the election violence that broke out in 2008), and are bare bones and impoverished. I've already seen the digs I'd be living in, and it's really not bad at all. I'd be with a host family, but have my own quarters and, besides, I'm thinking of only doing a couple weeks. The area around the IDP camp is gorgeous and so different from where I am now. My location now is much more lush, but Nakuru (the area where the camp is) is absolutely vast and a whole different Africa. Much more safari-esque. My visit to the camp was lucky enough to coincide with the completion of a new school GVN has built with the help of various sponsors. It is very posh for Kenya standards, and we were salivating over the new books and fresh paint. It was nice to meet other GVN folks and the sponsors (who were dressed so "I'm European and going to Africa"-like, if that makes sense). We even got to register a few kids, who are a mix of IPD children and those from the community. I spoke to the headmaster, and should I decide to live at the camp I could help teach a bit.

Some children at the camp.

Gives you an idea of the camp and also how pretty the landscape is.

Side note: I found out recently that Charity's husband was killed at the very start of the election violence. He was a taxi driver and got caught in crossfire, or something to that nature. Charity, having two girls and no job or skills, was put into an IPD camp and separated from her girls until she was able to get a job (which was becoming our house mother). She's so cheerful, you'd have no idea this happened to her, but I suppose her story isn't so shocking to other Kenyans, since so many lived it.

What else, what else. I went to Kibera on Sunday. In case you don't already know, Kibera is the largest slum in Nairobi and I think it's safe to say one of the largest in the world. I've seen pictures and just watched The Constant Gardener, which partially takes place there but, oy, does it feel more extreme in person. I mean, obviously it does, especially when you add heat and smells to the mix.

Like smells from the garbage and sewage that get removed ONCE a month.

Although, the views when you walk along the outskirts are pretty incredible. That right there are the Ngong Hills. I was supposed to hike them last weekend and hopefully will soon and I just might pretend to be Karen Blixen while doing it.

We had a lovely guide, Peter, who actually was a site coordinator for The Constant Gardener, and lives in Kibera. He was so proud to talk about the movie and show us a copy of National Geographic he was featured in. For Kibera, his house was not so bad. It was definitely small to house him, his wife, and three children, but it was clean and had electricity.

Front door of said house:


In other news, yesterday I found out the Teresia has HIV. I don't know why, but I had thought Mama was the only one. I felt pretty dumb crying in front of everyone when Josefa told me -- you know those moments when you are willing yourself not to, but you can't help it so you start crying in your hand because you're too embarrassed to look up? Ugh. Also, a married couple arrived yesterday and I had literally met them five minutes beforehand. OH, HEY GUYS! WELCOME! I mean, duh, lots of kids have AIDS here, but it's so different finding out after the fact. Teresia has been my bud from day one and I love her much more than the way I love the kids I babysit or used to work with at camp. It's a bit difficult to explain, but, anyway, it's a hard blow.

Last bit of news is that all of the volunteers, aside from Amanda, are leaving this weekend. Three already left over the past couple of weeks, and I'm sad to see everyone go. As mentioned before, we got two new people yesterday and will get around five more this weekend. It's strange to think, but I'll be the veteran in the house, showing them how we do in Kenya. Think I should do some hazing? Oh, I hope they aren't weirdos.

I'll leave you all with a pic of sweet Teresia.

Too much, eh?

Love you all, miss you loads!

xoxo Lisette