Reflection and a Nairobi Neighborhood

  I still can’t believe that it has only been six weeks since I returned from my last trip to Kenya. I fear that I have been there so many times, that I am becoming complacent, as if each trip is now just like running to Wal-mart or taking a day-ride to Michigan.

  I don’t want that to happen. I don’t want one trip to blur into the next. Each time I journey to Africa, I want it to be something new and different, something fresh and alive. Maybe that’s why I continue to dredge up this most recent trip, telling you about each and every new day, waking up in my narrow bed with its thin mattress in the volunteer house in the neighborhood of Kidfarmaco in the village of Kikuyu. The damp morning air and the roosters crowing me awake at four thirty am. The smell of cabbage cooking, of wet cement, of twenty warm men, women and children crowded into a twelve passenger bus. The taste and texture of freshly-fried chapati.

  But alas, here I am home again. For now. Maybe for a year or two. But I know I will go back.

In the meantime, here is another day from that most recent trip.

  Our host said that a few of the other volunteers were doing a medical outreach and a teaching at a school, and I asked to tag along.

  The school was in the neighborhood of Kawangware, a short matatu ride from the volunteer house.

  Then it was a bit of a hike through the muddy streets.

   Gladways School is a private school run by a church organization. One of the problems with having been to Kenya so many times is that I am negligent in photographing everything I see. I don’t feel like a tourist while I’m there and don’t want that label attached to me by having camera in hand at all times.
   Believe it or not, I feel as if I missed a lot of good photo ops this trip. The streets in this neighborhood actually were vibrant and full of life. All I shot was mud and refuse.

 The two American volunteers, Ali and Hillary, were of course prepared for their talk on health issues. I contributed only scanty information. The two girls, both RNs, did a great job on their own.

  After that we walked to WEMA hospital. Looking at Google Maps, it was maybe half a mile away, but it seemed much longer, as you can imagine walking through those muddy streets.

  The clinic wasn’t seeing many patients that day, so we were tasked with washing down all of the exam rooms and hospital rooms. What is wrong with me that I didn’t get any before pictures? 

  Perhaps you can imagine all the mud out in the street finding its way into these rooms. 

   It was quite the contrast from the green, wide-open spaces of the land of the Maasai. But I really didn’t mind.