Not Quite My Final Thoughts on Kenya

Hard to believe that it was only two months ago that I was in Kenya. Where has the time gone and what final inspiration should I leave with you as I move on to other things to blog about?

1) I don't think many in Kenya have high blood pressure. They truly live by the saying of "hakuna matata" - no worries. I am reading a book, "All That You Can't Leave Behind: a rookie missionary's life in Africa". The book is written in journal-format, so each day covers not only what is happening in his life, but random thoughts on life in Kenya. He explained in one entry that this attitude of being so laid-back is what helps to keep Kenya in poverty. When things are going well - there are enough rains and crops are growing, instead of thinking of ways to conserve this water for the drought that will surely come, they just enjoy the prosperity while they have it, not thinking much about the inevitable return to poverty.

2) They don't really drive on the wrong side of the road. They drive on the side of the road which is opposite of the side we drive on here in America. So why, as soon as I got there, was I comfortable with riding on the left side of the road. And when I came home after only two weeks, it felt wrong to drive on the right side of the road. Is it because I am right-brained or left-brained or just need a new brain?

3) I haven't figured out their school system. The government offers free education through elementary school. So why were a lot of people talking about school fees? I know they have to buy their own uniforms and books, but what were these extra fees? I think that there are a lot of private schools which charge fees, but these schools didn't look that much better than the public schools. I really need to get my daughter to clarify that for me.

4) You can buy anything at the Nakumatt. Sometimes it will be a lot cheaper than in the US, sometimes it will cost more. (You cannot be too careful with your digestive health when you are traveling.)

5) Everyone has cellphones. At first that seems like such a luxury, especially when food, clothing and housing seem to be lacking. But a lot of people do business that way. They need to stay in touch to make any money. The example that immediately comes to mind is anyone who supplies any sort of transportation for hire.

6) I think that I have more thoughts, so this will be continued next time…

I'm not in America anymore

Tuesday morning! My first full day in Kenya! What are we going to accomplish today, I woke up wondering, as I wandered into the main room to see what was for breakfast. I wish I could tell you what was for breakfast, but I don’t remember.

Every morning around eight, our house mom, Momma Bishop, also called Momma Sally, brought in a thermos of hot milk. I know - ick. Most of the other volunteers dumped instant coffee or tea into their cup-full, and once in a while there was some powdered chocolate in the house. I just drank my hot milk straight each morning. This was something new to me, the girl from the dairy state who only drinks her milk ice-cold and preferably skim. But I can adapt.

And that’s what a trip to a third world country is most about. Adapting.

Along with the thermos of milk, Momma Bishop usually brought a couple loaves of store-bought bread. Some days she also brought French toast, scrambled eggs, or mandazi. Mandazi is considered an East African donut. Fried and sweet – I need to make me some of these sometime soon.

After breakfast (I think that first day I made toast and burned it), Val and I walked down to the corner to catch a matatu to Nakumatt Junction.

The road at the end of our driveway

I suppose you want that explained.

A matatu is a nasty form of public transportation, but they are cheap and they go all over. They are a twelve-passenger van. I’m at a loss as to how to describe it beyond that!

Ok, so you stand along the road, and this van whizzes up next to you. A guy jumps out, they call him the conductor. He’s not the driver. I only once really even saw the driver of one of these. He pretty much stays put behind the wheel and doesn’t get involved.

Anyway, so the conductor jumps out and asks where you are going. No matter what you say, he says he can take you there. And this is where you have to know what you are doing, because he will try to overcharge you, especially if you are white.

Val always told him 30 shillings, and sometimes he accepted that and sometimes he didn’t. I was always like, just pay him and don’t argue. It is not worth it.

By the way, 30 Kenyan shillings is about 35 cents.

So, you jump in this smelly little bus and music is usually blaring, it seemed like either offensive rap with lots of swearing or Christian music. It was weird. But no matter what was playing, it was too loud.

So off we go, down the road and the road is bumpy and the bus is crowded and it keeps stopping to pick up more people. Once in a while, when it was already full, the conductor seemed to ask some people to get off so someone else could get on. They spoke in Swahili, so I never was sure if this was really happening, but it sure looked that way.

When you get close to your stop, you beat on the side of the bus, and then the conductor beats on the roof too, and somehow with all the noise from the music, the driver actually hears this and usually stops. Not always. But usually.

The conductor and the driver must have this all orchestrated somehow. It all seems so chaotic, but somehow they know what they are doing. And no matter how crowded it was, and how many other people got on or off, the conductor knew where us white chicks were getting off. Or at least he did 80% of the time.

Oh, dear, that took up a lot of words. I think I will tell you about the Nakumatt next time. It is much easier to comprehend.