Traveling Cat

Mama Cat and Baba Cat arrive in Kenya tomorrow!! Which means I’m leaving in a few minutes to start my journey to Nairobi that includes a matatu, a night bus, and another matatu. I’m not sure if I’ll be online much or not, but if I get the chance we’ll play a little game. After all… learning is fun!

So on today’s edition of the ever popular game, Name That Tribe, we continue to learn about how young people get initiated into adulthood. We learned in August that the Luyha tribe of Kenya’s Western Province use male circumcision as a rite of passage into adulthood when the boys are between 10-14 years old, accompanied by singing, dancing, festivals, and feasting.

Today’s Question: Which tribe in Kenya is known for their rite of passage ceremony that includes removing six front teeth when the boys and girls are about 12-14 years old? Make your best guess and the answers will be revealed tomorrow.

Tonight is like a horror movie around my house… and not just because of the normal bats and lizards hanging around that like to surprise me. Today the electricity was out all day and though it finally came on tonight after dark, it’s somehow not quite right. The light is turned on, but it keeps flickering like a horror movie. I thought maybe there was a problem with the light, so I went to the kitchen to try a different one. Sadly, it’s the same flickering like it’s about to burn out or go off or explode or something, but then it comes back on a second later. Bedroom light… same thing. Bathroom light… same thing. It’s a good thing I’m not prone to migraines or seizures, because this is enough to drive anyone to fits. Now if we could just figure out what is causing it, we could do it again when Halloween comes rolling around! Not that people around here know what Halloween is, but that doesn’t mean I can’t plan to celebrate anyway.

Update: After two painful hours of flickering on and off, the power went back out again for the night. It wasn’t exactly ideal when I needed to charge laptop and camera batteries, but I think that no light was probably better than flickering.

I’m pretty sure I’ve got the cutest nephew in the world

Gus, three months old

Want to know the saddest thing I’ve heard in long time? There are many sad stories I hear and see at work on a daily basis, but this is just tragic. I was talking to David and Angela about teenage girls in Nairobi who attend secondary school, lamenting the ones who can’t afford school fees and have turned to prostitution so they could stay in school. David and Angela were rather blasé about it… they said “Here in town, prostitutes will have sex for a package of ugali mix or even just a 1/2 kilo of meat.” What?!

We have prostitutes here in our little village? I think I was more stunned than I should have been. They pointed out the girls I’ve seen with short skirts and big earrings, the girls who live in the “cheap apartments” for about $3/month. They’re all prostitutes, they tell me. If men pay cash, they will accept 50/- Ksh (about $0.68). For less than a dollar, women here are willing to sell themselves for ugali (maize meal porridge), meat, or spare change to put food on the table. They went on to tell me some girls here will even do it for a 10/- ($0.13) glass of chang’a… a local alcohol/moonshine. I’m not oblivious to the poverty here… I know our rural village has a large population who live in abject poverty. Most families live in mud huts without electricity, use outside latrines as their only source of hygiene, and collect their water from nearby streams or boreholes. But prostitution for less than a dollar, or even less than a quarter?!

I was horrified and saddened, in that order. And my next thought was “Oh my god… what about STDs?” We’re in Kenya, after all, where the life expectancy dropped ten years from AIDS, from age 57 to 47. “Do they use free condoms from the VCT?” I asked. VCT is the voluntary counseling and testing services, free family planning clinics all over the country that offer testing, birth control pills, condoms, etc. For those with TB or AIDS, they offer free treatment, free ARVs, etc.

“Of course not, those girls don’t use condoms,” says Angela. She tells me that in rural areas like ours, people don’t use condoms. David says, “If you mention condoms, they’ll think you’re ‘abnormal’ or ‘sick.’” Further, people here don’t seem to do well with birth control pills. Many overdose or under dose, and don’t take them daily like is required. We have many kids who come to the Centre for Disabled whose mothers say she was on the pill, and didn’t realize she was pregnant for 3-4 months. They unknowingly conceive, continue taking the pills for a few months till they figure it out, and in the mean time severe birth defects are formed. (If anyone knows if this is fact or fiction, let me know. All I know is what I see with my two eyes… many mothers have the same story about continuing to take the pill and then ending up with babies with twisted legs, missing arms, etc). So, these girls don’t use condoms and either don’t use the pill or don’t use it correctly. Some were born to prostitute mothers and are now prostitutes themselves. Many are young, as young as 13 or 14 years old, and some already have children of their own.

So there you have it folks. Girls in my village, who live a 2 minute walk from my house or from the Centre, have submitted to prostitution as a way of life, to earn income, for as little as $0.13 per session, and they don’t use protection either. Now that’s what I call tragic.

My bedroom on a morning with no electricity

It’s currently pouring rain outside and I’m staying inside listening to Bruce Spingsteen’s latest album “We Shall Overcome: The Seeger Sessions.” It’s pretty great! I read a Rolling Stone sent a few months ago by Cindy’s mom and was then salivating for the Springsteen and Pearl Jam albums they reviewed. Perhaps Josh H read the same issue? How he knew to send it over in a care package with the new Pearl Jam I requested, I’ll never know. Either way, I’m grateful as always!

The photo above is for Susie, and others like her, who requested more about what my daily life looks like. Electricity goes out sometimes because of rains, or because someone new is getting electricity, or for no reason at all that we can tell. It doesn’t happen daily, but isn’t uncommon either. And for that reason, I keep a candle in an empty wine bottle on my nightstand with a box of Rhino matches.

From this slice of my bedroom, you can also see that I keep dried seed pod lings in an empty wine bottle on my desk, next to a stack of papers and letters I’m either reading or responding to. I like to think the seed pod lings could be marketed to Pottery Barn… they’re quite pretty in the whole “make do with what you have” mode of decoration. I also have a pineapple growing on my nightstand as a “house plant,” doing quite well I might add. Above that is my super cool Peace Corps calendar, a gift from Josh F, that teaches about different countries, has cool photos, and lists holidays around the world on every single day of the year (meaning: there’s always a reason for a party!). And next to the calendar are a few pics of beloved friends and family, regularly rotated. The newest addition to the pics, that might be pretty hard to see in the dark morning candlelight, is Charlie and Stef holding baby Gus in the hospital. Aww…

A few weeks ago Jane and Angela invited me to join them for a day long trip to nearby Bungoma. It’s apparently a “large town” near the Uganda border, about 1.5 hours from here. And by large I mean they had at least 3-5 paved roads (we’ve only got one paved road running though our village) and had multiple large supermarkets (we don’t have any).

My favorite thing in Bungoma was this sculpture at the Sharrif Centre. I haven’t seen many public statues anywhere in Kenya, much less “cowboy playing guitar” themed statues. It felt like a little touch of home, like something we’d have in Austin, and it was great to see it in the middle of a little Kenyan town.

We happened to be in town the same day as a music festival sponsored by Trust, the country’s biggest condom company. I could care less about condoms since I’m not dating in Kenya, but I’m all about music festivals, so we paid the admission – a 10 Ksh ($0.15) box of three condoms – and went inside to see the DJs, live music, prizes and contests, famous comedians, and more.

For one of the contests, they wanted people to come on stage to answer questions, and since Jane and Angela were so encouraging, and since my mom’s a public health nurse, I considred it. Even if I wasn’t willing, I couldn’t have avoided it as the DJ on stage spotted me, the only mzungu in the crowd, and sent guys from the stage to come collect me. So up I went to answer some questions.

It didn’t take long to figure out I’d been lured there under false pretenses. As it turns out, I unknowingly signed up for a surprise dance competition between me and four other girls. Great. In the States I’d NEVER dance in a competition… I don’t even dance on stage at Neighbors during 80s night. But here I was in Bungoma, surrounded by strangers, so I thought “who’s really going to see me?” I like to dance, and I’ve got no shame when traveling abroad, so why not?

I did pretty well in the dance contest, especially considering I didn’t understand the rules outlined in Swahili. In other words, I got lots of cheering and wasn’t the first person voted off. Happily, it was over in less than 10 minutes and I got to return to the crowd where Angela and Jane were waiting for me. And I won a brand new Trust t-shirt and Trust baseball cap which is pretty entertaining. (Not sure if I can wear a condom t-shirt around my village while working with the Sisters… would that promote promiscuity or public health? I think it’d be a positive message, but that’s just me).

As for the question of “Who’s really going to see me?”….

• Later in the day, far from the festival, little kids ran up to me and started talking quickly in Swahili. From past experience, I automatically assumed they were asked for money so out of habit I say in Swahili “I’m very sorry”. Upon listening though, they had actually said “We saw you dancing!! We saw you dancing!!” to which I apparently, self deprecatingly, replied “I’m so sorry.” Oh, Cat. Poetic justice.
• Also later in the day, far from the festival, I had Kenyan men walk up to me and wink at me. That’s the first time that’s happened since arriving in Kenya.
• And now, three weeks after the concert, I just got a text message from a friend in Nairobi who has a TV. She writes, “I have enjoyed seeing you dance on the television some where in Bungoma town at a TRUST CONDOM sponsored event.” What?! Yes, after the contest was over I went down to the front of the crowd to join Angela and Jane and realized there were tons of guys with cameras, including a few with video cameras. But c’mon! Did she hear the gossip and decide to play a joke on me? Did she really see me on TV? I don’t know, but I was highly entertained to see her text message.

The moral of the story is never trust your friends to shield you from public embarrassment.

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On the way home, I was happily distracted from the contest as I kept seeing tons of recently circumcised boys wander by, a cultural phenomenon that happens in Bungoma every August. Most boys were painted white, many wore cloth wraps instead of trousers to prevent chaffing on their sensitive parts, and many carried sling shots or other gifts as a token of their new manhood.

I didn’t get many pictures through the bus window, but I did think this boy, carrying a whip and wearing a beaded wrap, had a pretty cool look as far as recently circumcised attires goes.

Question: What do Kenya and the United States have in common?
Answer: Favorable photography laws.

Photography is a hobby of mine so it makes sense to find out my rights… especially when I started selling some photos in the past few years. I don’t want to photograph something then get chased down by police, nor do I want to illegally sell a photo without the permissions required. So I was pleased to know in the States you can basically photograph anywhere in public without permission. There are two basic exceptions: 1) military can forbid you if they have reason to think it’s a matter of national security and 2) you cannot photograph where there’s a “reasonable expectation of privacy” such as dressing rooms, restrooms, medical facilities, and inside their homes. Easy enough.

And what about Kenya? I was pleased to see an article in last Saturday’s Daily Nation newspaper that said “Kenya is one of the freest, and wildest, countries in the world for candid photography, outside of restricted security areas.” You can take anyone’s picture, can publish it as news, and can sell it without having consent. So if I want to take a picture of a busy street teeming with people in Nairobi, or if I want to take a picture of the president picking his nose, I can do so without fear of police. Now, if I wanted to sell the president picking his nose for commercial purposes, like to a hand soap company or to an author writing about manners, then I’d need consent. But as long as it’s not commercial, you’re given the green light to photograph or even sell anything you’d like.

Of course, beyond my personal rights, it’s still important to know and understand cultural taboos. I’d suspect most folks in my village don’t know and/or care about my rights as a photographer. Needless to say, I’m cautious in Kenya and when abroad. I generally ask first before taking pictures of just one or two people. Busy street scenes would be nearly impossible to ask people for permission, so those I generally just snap. However, in more intimate settings, especially in my village, I try to be respectful of cultural taboos. I didn’t take any pictures of people for the first month or two here as I wanted to let people get comfortable knowing me before seeing my camera. Nowadays it’s a different story. I’m walking down the path and locals see I have a camera in my hand, I rarely even have to ask. Kids and adults alike will often come up and ask me to take their pictures.

Photography… yet another reason life is good.

I’ve gotten a few camera questions from various folks, most recently from Josh, so I thought I’d post. The questions are usually about the unused Cannon camera I purchased in December before heading to Kenya.

Past: I love my trusty little digital I take everywhere with me, and like most of my other digital cameras before it, has a proprietary battery and charger. However, since the house here didn’t have electricity as of December, I decided I needed a new digital camera that could take regular batteries. Seemed like a good, logical idea at the time. So I searched till I found a new camera, with a much larger zoom, and more features, with the same kind of memory cards (SD card), that took batteries, etc. So I bought the Cannon, stocked up on rechargeable batteries (it requires 4 AAs), and bought both a regular charger and a solar charger.

Present: The house was fitted with electricity the week before we came. And the Cannon apparently needs more power than the rechargeables offer. It won’t turn on. It won’t turn on when given freshly charged batteries that work in flashlights or alarm clocks. It won’t even turn on when I’ve bought regular Kenyan batteries from a kiosk here in town. So now I only buy AA batteries on special occasions, but they’re really not ideal for day to day stuff… the camera sucks them dry super quickly, they’re expensive, the brand name more powerful Energizer-type batteries that do work can only be purchased when I make trips to larger towns, they’re bad for the environment, they can’t be burned with the trash, etc. So, I’ve got a lovely paperweight reserved for special occasions. On the bright side, when I used it in Nakuru National Park, I’m proud to say the zoom and image stabilizer definitely kicked butt and let me get way better pictures than Cindy or Elwin’s cameras.

Future: I plan buy lots of batteries and use it on my upcoming trip to the Masai Mara National Reserve/the Serengeti, but after that I’m at a loss for what to do. One part of me wants to send it home with my parents when they leave in September. Another part of me would love to have it while I travel around Africa, but it’ll take up valuable space, add weight to my pack, and cost money for batteries. It’s a lovely camera when it’ll turn on, but I suspect it could stay safely in Austin till I’m back and can use it or resell it. As always, feel free to share your insights.

At the Centre, we have two 6 ft tall cupboards chock full of toys to use for play therapy with the kids, and a third cupboard with toys we can lend them to continue their play therapy at home. For instance, if they have club foot and need to work their legs, we’ve got balls, pulleys, tricycles, parallel bars, walkers, etc. If they are mentally retarded and need to focus on extending their perception, cognition, or attention, we’ve got games like puzzles, dominoes, memory, jenga, etc. We’ve got stacking blocks and matchbox cars for kids who need fine motor control help. Horns and bubbles and kazoos for kids who need to work on their oral motor control, etc. We have so many hundreds of toys that we often forget we have certain toys. And sometimes I forget how much fun it is to play with toys I used to have as a kid.

Today I pulled out the lawn darts and every kid who used them loved them. Two examples: Silvester is mostly paralyzed in his left arm, so he worked throwing the darts to build strength and endurance. Even Songa, who’s mentally retarded, had a great time. He usually can’t stay focused on anything for more than a minute so most toys lose their appeal before they can even be useful for him. However, he loved the lawn darts so much he played for almost 45 minutes with me and his big brother. That’s a huge amount of time for him to concentrate on one thing! He’s a fabulous, very sweet kid. Sure, he’s also equally capable of being stubborn and angry and paranoid, but when he’s feeling sweet, he’ll take my hand, come lean up against me, and we’re instant friends again. Sometimes today he’d get so happy he’d pick up the darts and just start flailing his arms and dancing around with a giant grin on his face. It was fabulous.

The latest suitor

Got yet another marriage proposal yesterday, this time from a friend of Angela’s instead of a random stranger off the street. While it may be tempting for someone to marry a random stranger you just met and know nothing at all about, I opted to turn down Levi’s heartfelt, insistent proposals as I wasn’t interested in marrying him or interested in becoming anyone’s second wife (Levi already has one wife, but he wants another). What would I have gotten out of the deal? A mud hut of my own (each wife gets her own house) and the chance to cook, serve, clean, farm the fields, pop out babies, and wait on him and the kids hand and foot for the rest of my life. Further, second wives don’t even get the same rights as first wives, so that part of the deal wasn’t too exciting either. And finally, he wasn’t even good looking. If you’re going to propose to someone you just met, there’s got to be something in the deal that seems promising to the potential bride… you know?

In other news, we actually had clouds and a tiny little rain shower today. Happily, my laundry from this afternoon dried on the line before the clouds appeared. Let’s take a moment to be thankful for the little things in life.

For those playing along at home, you’ll remember that a decision had to be made about my employment offer by this week. Stay in my little village volunteering at the Centre for Disabled? Move to Nairobi to volunteer with either a cool NGO with street girls or at a slum school for high school girls? Get a paid job in East Africa? Teach English in Korea with Beal? Return to Austin? Move back to Seattle? Grad school? Other? I can’t say I’ve experienced any divine intervention, but I am incredibly thankful for the handfuls of emails from fabulous friends, family, and supportive readers. They were at times funny, logical, supportive, heartfelt, enthusiastic, worried, insightful, and encouraging… and each and every one was so terrific to receive, read, and reread. I really wish I could’ve reached out and hugged all of you!

Having lots of options can make for a hard decision, but it’s a truly beautiful thing when you know you can’t go wrong with any of your choices. That said, while I would’ve loved to spend another year in Kenya, I think I need something more, new, different. I’ve had a fabulous time this year getting to know new lands, new friends, and a new culture. I think I want more of that so the plan is to take a few months after my term is over to travel around Africa. Eventually I’ll head back to the States, see friends and family, and rejoin the working masses. If I can conclude my backpacking by late spring, I hope to be back in Austin around the time of my nephew’s first birthday. I love my family, but never knew the addition of such a little baby could have such a big pull in the decision making process. I’ve yet to figure out if I’ll end up living in Seattle or Austin, but I’ve got a while to make that decision and also know that the job market might help make the decision for me. (Side note: Many thanks to Andy and Mary for my first two offers to couch surf!)

In the mean time, I’ve got four more fabulous months in Kenya before traipsing off to experience more life on Africa’s southeastern coast. More visitors to Kenya are always welcome and encouraged, and if you’ve ever thought about backpacking around Africa, I hear 2007 is a great time to do it. (I’ll prematurely admit I might even have a travel partner who wants to go backpacking together. No agreements signed in blood yet, but it’s looking promising and that’s very, very exciting!).

As always, I’m happy and extremely thankful to report that life continues to treat me well.

Got a great note from Andy and knew I needed to post about packages. (Andy- I’ll reply soon when I have more time to write). I had great luck in the first six months receiving an odd package now and again… tapes, marshmallows, a cookbook, pudding, and all kinds of random stuff like organic soap and a tiny ninja. [Sorry, bug flew up the nose, am slightly distracted. Where was I? Oh. Right.] However, I’m now sad to report postal employees or customs folks seem to have either lost or stolen the last five packages people sent. Sad, but true. My parents and grandfather trained me to be prompt with thank you notes, so if you haven’t received any confirmation from me via email or snail mail, you can assume it hasn’t arrived. (Mom, Trista, Stef, Beal, and Mary… no packages yet, but I’ll keep asking Obima, my man at the post office). It’s possible, looking on the bright side of life, that maybe they’re just super slow and could still arrive some day? Wouldn’t it be lovely if all the missing packages came just in time to be birthday and Christmas gifts?

I feel pretty awful that you generous folks took the time and money to send stuff that might never arrive, but I want to say thanks for trying. For here on out though, while I love you all and love packages too, I’ll formally rescind my request for stuff. Send at your own risk if you’re feeling lucky, but know an occasional email, comment, or snail mail note will be just as fabulous to know you’re alive and well. Thanks y’all…