Greetings from Kenya! I feel like I am finally doing some justice to my blog title, T.I.A. (“This is Africa”), by bringing news from a country other than Tanzania! As much as I miss my friends and family in Arusha, it feels so good to have moved on to the next leg of my journey. It was nice to become familiar enough with an area for it to feel like my home, but at the same time, having become settled in Arusha made me forget the thrill of becoming acquainted with a new place.
As I wrote in my previous blog entry, I moved in with some friends after finishing my program with GSC. My homestay family made it very clear that I was welcome to stay as long as I wanted, even after my program had finished, but I was reluctant to continue feeding off of their generosity. They truly treated me like a member of the family—more and more so over time—and I found that their kindness made me feel doubly guilty at the thought of staying passed my program end date (meaning, after they would stop receiving payment for my living expenses… knowing full well that they would not accept any money I’d try to give them). In researching where I might go to stay in Arusha before moving on to Kenya, I found a couple female ex-pats in town through couchsurfing.org (a great website for any traveler on a budget!), who welcomed me to stay at their houses for free. But, I was happy to have been welcomed to stay with my friends at Africelt, so I took the opportunity and offered my help with whatever I could after moving in.
I tried to pitch in by washing dishes, buying almost all the groceries and various household needs, and even helping with some of their more personal expenses out of appreciation for their hospitality. So, I was surprised when I was washing dishes one morning and one of the guys approached me to ask for a contribution to the rent. Although at first I was a little irked, I eventually reasoned that if they were short the money, I could understand asking me to contribute, since I had been staying there after all. So, I offered what I could—almost 25% of the rent, and said that I hoped it would help before returning to the dishes. I was shocked to then find myself immediately followed into the kitchen and chewed out rather aggressively for my lacking contribution. After my one week at the house, they wanted me to pay HALF of the rent (although I was told I was welcome to stay there at no cost), and my refusal to give them more than what I already contributed (on top of all my other contributions) was not appreciated. I was horrified to feel so disrespected and taken for granted. It was a pretty nasty interaction that led me to pack my bags immediately. At that point, I felt like paying money to stay in a hostel would be better than hanging around a place where I could be treated with such disregard. I couldn’t help but wonder if their feelings toward me had changed after a handful of conversations that revealed some of my radically different religious, social and political beliefs… I also think it’s hard for some people here to understand that just because I’m white doesn’t mean I’m rich, and it truly is a shame that even people I thought were good friends couldn’t seem to see past that. I was so sorry to see some really neat friendships turn sour.
It was the middle of the week when I moved out, so most of my GSC friends were away in the village and I was feeling very alone. That first morning I woke up in the hostel I received a text message from Odek saying that I should exclude him from all future plans. It was a rough day, to say the least, and I felt like such a fool for not having moved on to Kenya already. I met Ezekiel at his normal taxi stand that morning where we sat in his car and he offered me words of kindness and support. “You need to be careful who you trust,” he told me, “and you really shouldn’t let yourself rely so much on other people like that, especially here. Forget those guys, Andi. You don’t need them!” It felt good to hear words of encouragement from a friend, but I was still pretty distraught. I had planned to meet Karyn at the old homestay for a visit that afternoon, so I met her there and caught up with everyone at home. It was comforting to be back there, and I could only be honest as my family asked about how things were going where I was staying. Mama Chaulla was livid to hear how those guys had treated me, and especially upset to learn that I was then sleeping in a hostel. After consoling me, she scolded me for not having come back home and insisted that I move back in the next day (as Karyn silently jumped up and down behind Mama’s back, miming enthusiastic cheer and applause at the suggestion of my coming back). It was enormously uplifting to go from feeling alienated and abused that morning to feeling welcomed, cared for, and loved that that evening back home. I immediately felt stronger and my anxiety melted away, as Mama cooked me a hot meal and I ate for the first time that day.
I returned with my bags the next morning, where I met Baba Karyn who apologized for what happened, followed by, “Anyway… Good! I like to see your face every day!” I found out that they were getting a new GSC volunteer that day who would take my old room, so I was going to share a bed with Karyn. Mama Chaulla kept telling me, “You know this volunteer will be different from you. This new person is staying as a volunteer, but YOU are family.” It was fun spending the next few days with my family as well as the new volunteer, helping him become oriented to his new home, and enjoying the company of people I love before leaving for Kenya. I even caught up with my uncle, Rick (the founder of GSC), as he flew in to do a site visit and check in on some newly launched programs!
I got on a bus in the early morning of September 10th after saying goodbye to my family and being treated to a farewell tune from Jeff, the new volunteer, with his ukulele. (Or as Mama Chaulla would call it, that tiny guitar) I considered the bus driver’s playing Bob Marley tunes the whole way to the Kenyan border to be a good omen, and I connected with Joshua and Pastor Kisua with no problems. I’ve been blessed to be lucky enough to have been introduced to Suvia Children’s Home, a girls’ orphanage near Machakos run by Pastor Kisua, through my cousins Joshua and Melinda. Confusingly, Joshua’s best friend here in Kenya is also named Joshua, whom he met through volunteering at the orphanage. Joshua and Melinda return to Kenya frequently to check in on the girls and embark on various other projects to help the community in the area. People frequently greet me with joyful hugs when they learn that Joshua and Melinda are my cousins! It’s of no surprise the local tribe, Kamba, has given Joshua the Kikamba name Mwendwa, meaning the Loved One! After a short time I was given my own Kikamba name: Mutanu, which means, a person who is always happy. And happy I have been! My cousin’s friend Joshua lives and works in Nairobi, but selflessly returns to the village every week to help me with my projects, make sure I’m doing well, and/or bring me back to Nairobi for a few days to escape the village for a taste of the city life! Luckily, Joshua and I became great friends with ease, and I’m so grateful to have a friend in him while staying here. His family has opened their doors to me in perfect African hospitality on several occasions already, whether it’s his sisters offering me a place to stay in Nairobi or his mama and father, a prominent bishop in the area, welcoming me to stay in their home in Machakos.
For the duration of my time volunteering here at Suvia (which means “take care” in Kikamba), I am staying with Pastor Kisua and his wife Rhoda at their home. It’s nice being in another homestay, especially here in the village. Although I stayed and worked in small villages around Arusha while in Tanzania, it’s nice to have an opportunity to experience rural life at this level here at the pastor’s home. The 26 girls at the orphanage, ranging from ages 6 through 14, have welcomed me with open arms and I very quickly fell in love with them! Their mother tongue is their tribal language, Kikamba, but they also know Kiswahili and the older girls speak a very respectable amount of English as well. It’s impressive to consider how many languages these girls master by such a young age! They love to sing and dance, and like all young girls, love to goof around. They return from school for lunch around 12:45pm each day, after which the older girls return to school until about 6pm! The young ones remain at the home for the afternoon, so I spend a lot of time with them during the day. I’ve enjoyed learning how easy it is to bond with even the youngest of them, given how great the language barrier can be. My Swahili is often my only saving grace in communicating with them, but the youngest of them still rely mostly on Kikamba, so we find other ways to play and connect. One of the youngest girls, Esther, always greets me enthusiastically by calling out “ANDI!!” (followed by the most adorable giggle you’ve ever heard), and otherwise communicates with the English words she knows: This!, Come!, and See! But what I’ve learned already is that you don’t need words to communicate love! Uh-oh, I feel an Extreme rock ballad coming on…..
My work around the orphanage has been to establish a garden so that the girls can enjoy a wider range of veggies in their daily diet, using the training and experience I gained in Tanzania through GSC. They have plenty of land there at the home, but this area, Ukambani, is famous for being extremely dry, making my work a bit of a challenge. (Bring it on!!) I began by setting up a nursery so that the seedlings would be ready by the time the rains came. We now have beautiful baby collards, eggplant, nightshade, cabbage, tomatoes, cucumber, pumpkin, watermelon, and onions, all started from seed! I set up a system to collect greywater from kitchen use, which although totally disgusting, has been a huge help with the nursery during times when water reserves run particularly low. I made a compost heap which won’t be fully decomposed for another few weeks, and also dug the first of a series of double-dug garden beds, where I will transplant the veggies from the nursery. Double digging is a lot of work on its own, so the super hard, dry soil here doesn’t make it any easier… especially since I’m doing it mostly by myself! My goal is to dig a total of four 6m x 1.5m beds, which will truly be a huge accomplishment if I’m able to reach it. Unfortunately, my progress has slowed a bit as I am currently recovering from a minor back injury while rushing to finish tilling the 3rd foot of my first bed earlier this week. I can’t wait to be fully back on my feet! I’m also pleased to be regularly covering my hands with blisters each week, as the lack of calluses on my hands was a big obstruction to my credibility when I told Tanzanians that I work in agriculture. It was hard enough for them to believe that a mzungu knows how to farm (let alone do hard work in the first place), so I was frequently met with laughter when folks would check my hands for evidence. I am so proud of my new calluses!
Aside from work, I’ve had a fun time socializing with folks around home. I always appreciate when community members or teachers from the neighboring school stop by my gardens to ask questions or compliment me on the work I’ve done. I have so much fun showing local farmers around my gardens and asking for advice on different crops or swapping ideas. There are two matrons at Suvia, Marion and Peninah, both such warm and kind women who have been very supportive of my work. Between cooking and caring for the girls, they don’t have much time to get involved in the gardens, but they enjoy asking questions and learning what they can when they find a chance. There is also Musyoki, a neighbor who takes care of the family’s farms and livestock, who periodically checks in when he can to offer really valuable advice. He frequently encourages me by saying, “If we are going to do hard work, we must make sure we do it well! You must do your work thoroughly so you can be proud to show others when you are finished.” One time he saw me digging out a foot path around the nursery in preparation for a fence I was going to build, and I got a kick when he said, “Andi, I am confused. We have had many American volunteers, and they do not like to work hard! How are you doing this work? I support you!” There is also the househelp here at the pastor’s home, Bete, who does most of the cooking and cleaning. She is one of my favorite friends here! A mama with a bubbly personality and a touch of sass, Bete is always singing or dancing while she works, and I love chatting with her in Swahili. …I also love eating the food she cooks!!
I will update y’all again on my adventures in a few weeks. Thanks for your patience with my slow blogging, and thanks for your interest and support! Sending my love.
