Hello world! I guess you guys are used to my poor blogging habits by now, so I’ll skip the apology paragraph this time. Although admittedly, I recently reached my one-year anniversary of being on the road, and it hit me how little I’ve been in touch with too many of you. It dawned on me how quickly the time flies, and how long I might possibly be gone. My friends and family back home have given me so much love and support, (“back home” in this case definitely extends farther than the US) and I would never want to give any of you the impression that I’ve stopped thinking about you, stopped caring about you, or stopped wanting to know how you’re doing. Having said that, feast your eyes on what I’ve been up to since my last blog entry, and when you have a chance, please return the favor. I wish I could get in touch with more of you individually, but since I still don’t have a computer my opportunities to get online are limited. You can send me an email, or even send me some of the good old-fashioned paper kind. Get in touch for my current address.
My story left off when I was wrapping up my volunteer project at the girls’ orphanage in Kenya. That really was a beautiful experience, bursting with emotion. I loved getting to spend that time with girls, but I wished I could have done more, or perhaps could have done things differently. Regardless, I’m so grateful to have stayed there with them, and to have had such a heartfelt learning experience. When I finished my project, I moved to the nearest town, Machakos, and got in touch with the local branch of the National Environment Management Authority (NEMA). They were happy to take me on as an intern, but they couldn’t pay me because they were already seriously underfunded. Nevertheless, I was elated to take on the job! I had always wanted to get involved with conducting environmental impact assessments, and there were definitely plenty of them to be done. The branch manager pointed to walls of shelves overflowing with binders, and the stacks of binders on the floor in front of the shelves, explaining that there was a 6-month queue for approval of these assessments for various development projects. He said they were legally obligated to complete them within 3 months time, but their short staffed operation made it impossible. He was, however, delighted to tell me that they had just sued the National Forest Service (who was hosting the NEMA offices on their headquarters property free of charge), for allowing clear-cutting in a national park without conducting an environmental impact assessment. He seemed tickled by the scenario as he looked around the office they had given him with a big grin, threw up his arms and said, “Well, they broke the law!” After seeing so much “you scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours” type of work ethic, especially within government, I found his attitude toward the whole thing particularly badass.
Quite sadly, I couldn’t take on that internship in the end. After several dealings with the immigration offices in Nairobi, I was told I would need a work permit that would cost roughly $1,100 USD. It was really hard to know whether or not I was getting the right information, but after about a week I started to run out of patience, as well as faith that we’d figure out an alternative. I certainly couldn’t afford to pay over a thousand bucks to do unpaid work, and I began to wonder what the hell I would do if I stuck around and couldn’t work. Although Joshua assured me there was plenty I could help out with, as he’s involved with several projects from missionary volunteer work to entrepreneurial ventures, I began to feel more and more that it was just time to move on. My Canadian friend Jo who I met at the orphanage had just moved to Perth in Western Australia and raved about how great the city was. I quickly learned that Australia offers travelers of a certain age a Work Holiday Visa that allows you to work as you travel for up to a year, and Perth kept sounding better and better. It was only a couple weeks after I left the orphanage that I bought my next plane tickets: Nairobi to Johannesburg for 10 days (why not?), then Perth.
For the month I lived in Machakos, I stayed with Joshua’s parents. Being in town offered me a bit more freedom to come and go, although I spent so many of my weekdays there on the computer looking for work in Perth, sending out resumes, as well as sorting out travel plans for Joburg. My rather mundane daily schedule of rotating among the handful of cyber cafes in Machakos was punctuated by really fun weekends either in town or in Nairobi with Joshua and his crew or his sisters. One afternoon Julia took me on a tour of Nairobi’s second hand markets, where she got fierce with the vendors and scored us some awesome deals. I was surprised to find that the second hand clothes in Nairobi were about the same prices as second hand clothes in the US—often times even more pricey, even though around Arusha the prices would be pennies in USD. I guess it’s an example of the way that Tanzania and Kenya are geographically close, but economically in very different places. I hung out with all of Joshua’s sisters another afternoon in Nairobi at Joan’s place for Jennifer’s baby shower. I got there early with Jacinta, and we helped prepare the food: buttery, fried beef sandwiches, maandazi (like donuts), fried chicken, sausages, fried beef liver, cookies, popcorn, chips, and soda. You know, ‘cause every growing baby needs a good healthy spike in cholesterol for strength to aide in the journey ahead. ;) It was such a riot once the guests arrived. The apartment was crammed with women, many of whom have known each other since childhood, screaming and laughing, telling jokes, and dancing. Traditional Kamba dancing involves bending your knees and moving them in and out by bringing them together, swinging them out, then back together over and over to the beat of the music while swinging your arms. Tooooo fun…
Once I had my travel arrangements sorted, I wanted to go back and visit everyone in Tanzania one more time before leaving East Africa. Since I had to first travel to Nairobi from Machakos to get a bus to Arusha, I broke up the journey by staying the night in Nairobi with Julia and Eunice. As soon as my bus got into Nairobi a massive thunder storm broke out and the streets were ambushed by a terribly heavy downpour. A crowd huddled with me underneath the roof of a service station while the rain dumped hard onto the stragglers darting to shelter outside. Several minutes passed before the first brief let-up, so I took my chances and decided to brave the still-sprinkling rain to get to a nearby restaurant where I could wait for my friends more comfortably. Besides, let’s be real… if there’s chips masala at the finish line, there’s little I won’t be willing to put up with to get there. As soon as I ducked into the rain and joined the masses speed-walking to their destinations, the strap to my right flip-flop sprang loose. People were moving so fast it looked like one of those moving sidewalks at the airport, and there I was in the middle of it, clogging things up while struggling to get my flip-flop to cooperate. Meanwhile, the rain had rested long enough and was beginning to pick up its pace again, so I gave up the shoe struggle and hobbled on through puddles, ungracefully flailing my body across rushing gutters, until at last I made it to Rovers. Shelter, and chips masala at last! What a treat.
Eventually Eunice and Julia met me there, new sandals in hand, where we discussed the undeniable promise for a fantastic girls’ night out. Our first order of business was finding a place to stay the night. Eunice lives on her university campus and the gates close pretty early at night, and the same went for Julia’s housing complex. All of us were too proud to call anyone (read: Joshua) and ask where we should get a room. We independent women were perfectly capable of handling it ourselves, thankyouverymuch! Well, it was a Friday night, and by the time we got around to some hostels they were nearly all booked. We enquired at heaps of hotels until we ended up at a terribly cheap, terribly grimy little hotel where none of us felt that sleeping under the sheets or using the towels would be a good idea. I changed my clothes, dropped some stuff, and the night began. The girls were shocked to learn of the kind of beer I’d been drinking in the company of Joshua and his boys, which was usually Guinness. “Brown beers” were not exactly lady like, so they introduced me to Smirnoff Ice and a popular strawberry flavored wine cooler. I can’t deny that those things tasted exactly how I like my alcohol to taste: sweet, fruity, and not alcoholic. In total I think we danced at 5 or 6 different clubs that night, encountered plenty of boys, and even some women!, who couldn’t resist the charm of our killer threesome. We had a great time using some of our sweet new moves that we had learned while shakin’ it to Joan’s zumba DVD the morning after Jennifer’s baby shower. The party didn’t stop until clubs stopped letting us in, which meant it was after 5am, and we made our way back to our accommodations for a nap. My bus to Arusha left at 8am, so after a couple hours, I jostled the girls, and we stumbled together through the streets we had danced through just hours before, only this time buzzing with people getting to work… far too noisily might I add. Julia soldiered in front carrying my backpack until we reached the bus stand, where I climbed in and slept all the way until the Tanzanian border. When Joshua found out that I drank Smirnoff Ice, he threatened to disown me as his friend.
When I got into Arusha, I met up with Musa almost immediately. He had his own place at the time, so I planned to crash with him during the weekend, then head over to my family’s place to stay for the remaining few days. It felt like it had been ages since I saw him! It felt so good to catch up over chips mayai and a ginger beer. (After the night before, anything alcoholic was pretty much out of the question) He was with his good friend Hussein, so we all hung out while Hussein good-naturedly teased us about how obviously we are meant to be together. Tanzanians often don’t understand the difference between love and infatuation in the sense that a Westerner would understand it. Musa and I developed a really awesome closeness over the time I was there, but he understands Western culture a bit better than others might. Sure, he’s looked me in the eyes before and told me that he’d marry me… to which I sincerely reply, “No way, asshole,” followed by roaring laughter all around. We had a fun weekend relaxing, chatting, playing pool, drinking beer, and catching up on all the work-related gossip. Sunday morning I went to Musa’s parents’ house where I met his son for the very first time. Neither of us could believe we had been friends for almost 9 months at that point, and I had never met his son! I have never met such a gentlemanly 3-year-old. After so many late night heart-to-hearts with my friend over his boy and concerns over his upbringing, it was so sweet to see them together for the first time and see how much they love each other. We had chai and played with little Jay all morning, until I left for my family’s place later that day.
When I got to the house, Karyn met me at the door with a little screech and a big hug. She told me they were expecting another volunteer, so I would be staying with her in her room. We spent the evening catching up, although I crashed pretty early that night. The next morning I went over to Tom’s place for chai, where he cooked me fried eggs with banana. You guys, if you like eggs, and you like bananas, you’ve got to try this. I know it sounds weird, but if you just mash up some ripe bananas into a bowl with your raw scrambled eggs and fry the whole thing up, the result is heaven. He said normally he puts honey on it (he might have meant syrup?) but it was great without. If you try this tell me if you loved it as much as I did!! After Tom blew my mind, I spent the day in town with Karyn. We spent a lot of time shopping, she helped me find some new sandals and we had lunch together before going to visit a friend of hers. Turned out, Karyn had a boyfriend and wanted me to take her to visit him! Ahh, to be 13 again! As we walked up to the kid’s house, I asked, “Has he kissed you yet?” She quickly responded, “NO!!” So I asked, “If he did, would you kiss him back?” To which she answered, “I would PUNCH him!” That’s my girl! We hung out at this kid’s house for a couple hours, watching Michael Jackson music videos while I made occasional efforts to facilitate small talk between the otherwise silent love birds. They were painfully adorable, and got all giggly and chatty as he walked us to the main road when we left (them walking several paces behind me of course). Shortly after we got home there was a knock at the door. Mama Chaula was in the back garden, so I answered it. To my surprise, my very first Swahili teacher who had taught me the basics back when I first arrived stood there, accompanied by a tall, young white guy. We were both so surprised to see each other that we each kind of gasped before sharing a big hug. My Swahili was probably at its peak at that point, so it was really fun to show off to my original teacher and give him all the credit. It turned out that he had begun his own sort of cultural program for students abroad to come to Tanzania, stay in a homestay, and take Swahili courses from him while learning about the culture. Our new housemate’s name was Cameron, although most people’s Swahili accent made it sound more like “Cameruni.” Cameron and I got to know each other a bit that night over dinner. It was fun because Cameron had already studied Swahili at his university for a couple years in the States, and although his vocabulary was a bit better than mine, our conversational level was pretty compatible after my 9 months of immersion. It continues to amaze me how much of a difference it makes to learn a language that way.
Cameron and I hung out a bit over the next couple days. He came to the bar to meet Musa and Tom for one last drink before they had to head back to the village with GSC. It was really hard to say goodbye to those guys, not knowing when I’d get to see them again, so I was glad Cameron was there to hang out with me after they left. We met up with my friend Saning’o that night who I hadn’t seen in months. We had a few drinks, ate nyama choma (grilled meat), and played some pool. It was fun getting to know Cameron while catching up with Saning’o. Cameron and I turned out to have a lot in common, and Saning’o is always fun and can be rather theatrical, especially when there’s any opportunity to get competitive like a game of pool! The next day I introduced Cameron to my boy Ezekiel, and the three of us had lunch together before we hurried home to gather my things and just barely make it to the bus stand to catch my bus back to Nairobi. I really regretted not giving myself more time to spend in Arusha, but felt so lucky that I had a chance to spend time with nearly all of the people that I really wanted to for a proper goodbye. Only Mama Chaula and Karyn were home when I had to leave for the bus. I had about 5 minutes to gather my things and get back into Ezekiel’s car, when Mama tells me, “I cooked you lunch!” Crap. Not only did I not have time to eat, but I was stuffed from the lunch I just ate. As soon as I removed the cover from the dish on the table, I saw the most colorful dish of a big variety of cooked veggies, and nothing but veggies. That in itself nearly made me cry… she was showing off how well she knew me. I had no choice but to scarf them down, I just wished I could have spent more time with Mama Chaula in that moment. Karyn gave me a gift from the family of a beautiful black and yellow kanga (fabric) she said she had picked out for me, because she knows how to pick the good ones that I like. They walked me to the car and we shared big hugs before I took off with Ezekiel. The drive to the bus stand was short, but it felt like it happened in slow motion as I struggled hard to keep the tears back. After a couple of audible sniffs, Ezekiel looked over and said, “Oh, don’t do that, bwana…” (Bwana = miss) He dropped me off, I loaded the bus, and he made sure I had a seat before we hugged and assured each other it wasn’t goodbye forever. Once the bus started moving and we drove through the countryside I had driven through so many times to work in the villages surrounding Arusha, I just let the tears flow. My mind was replaying so many incredible memories from my time there and it was hard to believe I was actually leaving. I kept thinking, it was probably a good thing I had my plane tickets before coming back to visit Tanzania. I may not have bought them if I had come back first!
I got back into Nairobi after dark and Joshua picked me up at the bus stand. We went out with friends to Uptown Thursday, where nightclubs in Nairobi feature reggae music. It was a good opportunity to have fun and shake off some of the heavy emotions I was dwelling on after leaving Tanzania. The next day was really relaxed. Joshua and I hadn’t really had a week apart since the day we met, so we caught up over some kuku choma, and in the afternoon made our way to the matatu stand. Joshua had suggested we go to Nakuru together over the weekend as something of a mini-holiday for my birthday! It was fun taking off with no plans for the weekend, only a destination. The matatu ride took a few hours, and it was dark by the time we arrived. We checked out a few hotels with the help of a local taxi driver, and eventually settled on one that offered us an awesome deal for a suite with a kitchenette, lounge room, and balcony. As soon as the door shut behind us we cracked open a bottle of brandy to celebrate! The weekend in Nakuru was spent relaxing on the balcony, hanging out by the pool, going for walks through the town, and of course drinking and playing pool at the local clubs. I couldn’t have thought of a better way to spend my birthday.
By the time we got back to Machakos, I had about a week left, which was even more fun because Eunice had begun her break from school so she was around way more often. She gave me a really sweet birthday card the day we got back from Nakuru, and we had fun cooking dinner together. One night Joshua’s parents were out of town, so I cooked us kids my very best introduction to Mexican food: Tortillas (lightly fried chapatti), rice, shredded cabbage, fajita veggies, guacamole, pico de gallo (kachumbari), carne asada, and of course hot sauce (pili pili). I’ve never really cooked meat, so that part was a bit of an experiment, but the rest of it was great. I loved how so many of the dishes were really similar to what they already eat because the most common ingredients seem to be about the same between the two regions. Everyone loved it. My last full day in Kenya was spent at a couple of weddings in Machakos. It was fun getting all dressed up and having a bunch of nice photos taken of me with my Kenyan family before leaving. That night we went to one of the wedding’s “after party,” which was a very quiet buffet dinner when we arrived. I introduced myself to the bride, and immediately after shaking my hand she ordered the photographer to snap a half a dozen photos of us together. When everyone had finished their meal, a friend of the groom’s stood up, reorganized the tables, and declared himself MC for the rest of the night. He seemingly effortlessly and spontaneously thought up and organized a series of games that got the whole room involved and splitting with laughter. We were bouncing around the room, in and out of our chairs, singing and dancing all over the place! It was an excellent last night.
My flight the next day was in the afternoon, so I had the day to slowly pack my things. I was pretty sad to be leaving, and super uncomfortable knowing I was about to have to say goodbye to one of my best friends. Joshua felt the same way, but don’t tell him I said that. He hung out with me while I packed my stuff, helping me here and there, although he said he hated seeing me pack. We each gave each other a small gift before heading to the airport on a matatu, where we said goodbye with a big hug. It’s weird, somehow I expected for more to happen. I had built up so much anxiety toward saying goodbye to a friend I felt so close to, and yet in the end it happened the way all goodbyes do. With a hug and well wishes. What more can there be? I think I was relieved at its simplicity.
I cried as my plane took off, just as I cried when my bus left Arusha. I watched as we flew over green rolling hills with cattle sprinkled on top before ascending through a layer of clouds. I took pictures of the top of Mt. Kilimanjaro above the cloud layer as we flew by it, and that made me cry harder. Such a familiar backdrop, fading away into the distance. I then realized what I now consider to be the hardest part about traveling. More difficult than home-sickness, culture-shock, or even the horrors of traveler’s tummy bugs: Saying goodbye… especially when you don’t know when you will be able to say hello again.
After a few short hours on the plane, I landed in Johannesburg, Gauteng, South Africa.
Look out for another update soon (for real soon, I promise) with more.
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