Sex and Education

I spent a good part of October assessing the health education at primary and secondary schools around the district. I did so much work related travel that friends and acquaintances began referring to me as the District Officer(equivalent to our governor). The structure of these trips involved me traveling for hours, many times by foot, to visit with the head masters of the schools. During these meetings I asked a lot of open ended questions regarding how health is taught and how much detail and support is given regarding different topics such as HIV/AIDS, sanitation (washing hands, using latrines -diarrheal disease kills a large percentage of our children here), sex and puberty(some girls just don’t go to school when they begin bleeding…). I learned a great deal from these meetings and the conversations I’ve been having since arriving in Kenya.

Regarding HIV/AIDS. Every headmaster I met with told me with confidence it was taught-it is in the government curriculum. When I asked about how frequently and in what detail it was taught, they said it was discussed maybe twice a term. Teachers tell children it is contagious and it is caught from sex. It was a consensus that not much more detail was given to the students, as teachers didn’t feel comfortable talking about sexual issues with students. Depending on the school and the grade level the biological progression of HIV was discussed. Not the majority though. Social issues were not discussed. Sex not discussed. Care for the sick not discussed.

PROBLEM: Parents don’t feel comfortable talking to their kids about sex. They assume other respected adults will talk to them about it. Teachers (other respected adults in child’s lives) don’t feel appropriate talking to their students about sex. Kids are told having sex is a sin, and the teachers feel they’ve done their part. Condom use is not taught in most schools because the kids aren’t having sex (because they know it is a sin). Girls are coming to school pregnant, consequently getting kicked out of school and sent home to be a mother and dependant on someone else for income and some degree of stability for the rest of their lives.

FRUSTRATING STORY # 1: My PCV friend is a teacher at a local secondary school. The school held a talk on HIV/AIDS and asked her to lead the discussion. When the talk ended, the students asked questions, one being “is there a cure for Aids?” My friend begins to respond that there is not a cure but that there are ways to live long lives after being diagnosed through use of anti retroviral therapies and healthy lifestyle. At this point the head teacher interjects and tells them that if you are HIV positive and you devote your life to God, he will cure you. I kid you not this is what was said. All you have to do is ask God and all your problems disappear. Lesson: have as much sex as you want kids and when you are done, just find god and all your promiscuity is wiped away. All my friend could do was talk about how physiologically it was impossible for that to happen…once again the collision of science and god. At some point the same man insisted that condoms themselves were infected with HIV.

FRUSTRATING STORY 2: I spend a good amount of time with another friend who is a 40 year old Kenyan teacher at a primary school. She told me that now they are encouraging the students not to share their water bottles and things because you can catch HIV…I explain to her that this is not the case and make a mental note about the miseducation of teachers and therefore students.

In another conversation she was starting to say how the white people who come to teach at schools are bad people because they talk about condoms. Condoms are sinful etc. At this point I very politely asked how many girls come to school pregnant each year. She said there were always a few. I told her these kids are already having sex, regardless of whether it is sinful or not, the least we could do is give them some of the tools to protect themselves and enable them to live healthy lives. She understood, she is also a mother.

DEPRESSING STORY: Another friend of mine is a teacher at a different secondary school in a very remote area. Note-most secondary schools here are boarding schools. November marked the end of the school year so all of the students sit for exams. Exams here are a HUGE deal. Starting from primary school the results determine whether you will go to a good secondary school or university-competition is high. The Friday evening before the exam is to start, a Form 4 (senior) girl left campus alone and found her way to an isolated bunch of bushes. A female teacher saw her staggering out there and followed her. When she arrived she found the girl in labor. This girl had gone out into the bush to give birth alone. I cannot begin to imagine how scared this girl must have been, how alone, how unprepared. Did she walk out there knowing she might die. Alone. It makes me nauseous. It makes me cry. This is structural. Education is all kids have to even try for a better life and she was going to lose it if she was known to be pregnant. All she had left was to finish her exam, and for her, this was not something worth sacrificing. Her plan was to sneak away into the bush, give birth and leave the baby to die. The teacher called for help and they birthed the baby together in the bushes. The girl begged them to kill the baby, but they did not. When I imagine this scene, it is too much. This is not a movie, this is not some dramatization. This is happening all over this world. To compound matters, it is known(but not known with enough evidence for justice) that a teacher is sleeping with the students. It is whispered that this teacher might be the father of this baby. The school decided to kick her off the grounds but allowed her to finish the exams. Some of the woman teachers took her in and fed her for the week she sat for exams.

...

Here education is the golden ticket. Because of this, teachers are given a lot of respect and power. With this comes responsibility. When a teacher tells a kid who knows nothing about sex that condoms are infected with HIV, they’ll believe it. They do. The problem is, it doesn’t stop them from having sex. They just don’t use a condom. Kids are learning about sex by doing it. This post holds too much already so I’m gonna wrap it up. Long story not so short, I’ve decided that one of the most lasting projects I can undertake here is a teacher training where I will hopefully set some of the facts straight and give teachers some tools regarding talking about sex and puberty with students. It will take a long time to finalize the curriculum, but I think it will be incredibly beneficial. I don’t want to provide the bandaid fix by spending my 2 years talking in schools, reaching only those students that are here for those few years and further enabling teachers to hide from the sticky subjects of sex. I feel it important to educate those educators who will teach generations.

Our war

I remember 5 months ago sitting in an oversized ballroom at Sheraton hotel in Philadelphia at the event Peace Corps refers to as ‘staging’ and being asked the question ‘Why Peace Corps?’. We all were thinking and saying things like- ‘I want to live abroad for 2 years’, ‘I want to learn a new language’, ‘I need someone to give me development experience’, ‘I want to spice up my resume’, ‘I want to save the world’. Being in this room with this eclectic group of individuals and having undergone the many activities I had that day, I was in a particularly patriotic mood. I raised my hand and posited that we all might believe that America is an amazing country in theory, that we might at certain times be proud to be an American, and that we might (gasp) want to serve our country but not agree with contemporary foreign policy decisions, further, we might actually want to work towards creating a corner of the world that does not think America represents all things capitalist, imperialist, hypocritical and tyrannical. This has little to do with my main decision to join, but I was feeling every word at the moment.

Every Peace Corps Volunteer receives a subscription to Newsweek (I DESPISE their journalism but it at least keeps me up with some stuff in the world). Usually I read them front to back reading fluff about Sarkozy’s approval ratings with European leaders, or the new cultural centers of Qatar. I read every article-except those about Iraq, and for those of you who pick up this worthless weekly publication, you know that such articles comprise about a third of the magazine. I didn’t really realize I was doing it until today. Today, while on a matatu to Sagalla, I looked at the article (on Iraq), and had a debate in my head on whether to read it. Finally the voice screaming, “You should know of the destruction your country is imposing on others, Do you think antiwar protestors during Vietnam didn’t read the news because it depressed them too much?! Saddle up!” won. So I did. About halfway through the article I had another realization-the world didn’t stop because I came to Kenya. Horrible things didn’t stop happening in the name of justice, imperfect capitalism didn’t stop oppressing, people didn’t stop dying, poverty didn’t stop killing. I think I felt that because I wasn’t screaming at the top of my lungs about divestment and peace keepers for Darfur, fasting for peace, hosting vigils, writing press releases and opinion pieces that this had all stopped. That Darfur was getting better. That we cease to be bombing the shit outta Iraq and that numerous civil wars are not raging because of us. Maybe Palestine and Israel actually worked things out. Well, ill tell you. Its not true. I’ve finally had some internet time to do some real reading of international news(not NW) and our world is worse than ever. I feel that claustrophobic panicky feeling rising up in my chest and beginning to take over my entire body. That emotion I thought I was escaping when I got on the plane to Kenya.

I receive many emails and letters telling me that people are proud/impressed/inspired by me. While its nice to hear, and I’m happy to give someone some inspiration, you really shouldn’t feel all of these things. I’m a bit of a fraud(to be dramatic). I’m running away. Well I thought I ran away. I was fleeing this helpless state of living in a country perpetuating so many problems. I thought that being here, by choosing to leave that country, by giving up all things excessive and comfortable- that I could wash my hands of that tension and sorrow. That contributing to the improvement of peoples lives abroad would alleviate my guilt. Not true. All it does is create a bubble where it is easier to ignore all of these things (making me more typical American ehh?). Being here I have begun to realize more than ever how American I really am, I cannot divorce myself from that fact. No matter where I run, I’m still American, my country is still doing so much to harm and so little to help. For me, its truly maddening.

The moment has arrived!

PICTURES!!!!!

The moment some of you have so patiently waited for has arrived. It took me a really long time to figure out how to do this and get the technologies in order, but here they are. There are kind of a lot, next time, I promise there will be a more manageable amount. Also, sorry for their size, I had to resize them to save me some money.

http://picasaweb.google.com/rksantos/KenyaTheBeginning

This post lacks a unifying theme

Almost every letter I seem to get from home talks about the weather, so maybe I will give some insight into my weather.

I woke up this morning to pattering on my tin roof. If starts off soft but steady, and progressively gets harder to a level of sound you just cant sleep through. The rain blows what is left of the warm air from outside through my windows and it soon begins to cools off. I’m smiling as I wake up and look around for someone to share this peaceful moment with. There is nobody(of course). I lay in bed and forgo the morning run in order to revel alone in the welcomed change in weather and the rain I love so. Just as I begin to get excited for a rainy day at home, the rain stops. But it carries on in maybe 30 minute intervals throughout the day

So that was actually yesterday morning. This morning it is once again sweltering! It is so hot these days that even a light cotton sheet seem to be too much cover at night. This isn’t even the worst of it. Supposedly come November/December is when shit really hits the fan. Not looking forward to it. The weather is really quite ridiculous and rather unpredictable. One day it will be cool(enough to put on a light long sleeve shirt in the evenings) and other times, I am trying to see how little I can wear and still be societally appropriate.

…

I went on an amazing adventure last weekend, but unfortunately all I can really say for now is that I have gathered just one more great story to add to my book of life. What else can I say- I successfully retrieved my computers from Tanzania, the sun is strong when you are out in it 3 days straight, my kiswahili is ok enough to talk myself out of some potentially sketch situations, Mt Kilimanjaro is GORGEOUS and I found the most brilliantly blue fresh water lake but could not swim in it because it was infested with crocodiles. The rest will have to wait until I am out of Peace Corps to share. I have a feeling I will have a bunch of such stories that we can share over cocktails in a few years. [Its funny how I miss fine things like a fancy cocktail in a chic bar(which I rarely frequented in the states anyhow…dive bars…mmmm), the sophistication of a wine glass, pencils skirts and pumps. Man, I’m gonna stop this tangent now…]

Nimefurahi

I am happy. Yesterday marked the first week since being here that I truly felt happy continuously. This past week also brought my 2 months at site mark! I truly do feel like I am starting to make this place home and it feels DAMN good. I had been quite unhappy for sometime leading up to now, and that is probably a result of just resenting where I’m at because its not where I expected to be, and also partially due to being sick for 2 weeks and not being able to make any progress towards this allusive goal of happiness. But I am, I feel I am on the path, the yellow brick road (as symbolized in the original Oz, not the Wicked version as that would be leading to death, destruction and tyranny). This happiness is coming about due to a great many things. This past week I have had a series of meetings and discussions that have really made me realize there is some really really crucial work to be done here and that I am needed in voi and its surrounding villages. During this past week I have been able to sit down and outline some ideas for future projects and I have received some great feedback. I also essentially told my office that I will not be in too much as I will be spending time getting to know these communities. I think the most exciting discussion I had was with my supervisor in Peace Corps. I have been dreaming about moving out to sagalla or some other small village, but I wasn’t sure that it would fly with PC. Through the conversation, my supervisor essentially said that once I get settled here, I’ll probably be spending 3-4 nights a week out in the bush! Hearing her say that just made my day. If this is the case, then my site truly is perfect. Well nothing is perfect-but, I will get the best of both worlds. I will get to live in that small community(and BEAUTIFUL sagalla!) and also have my town with quasi modern conveniences and volunteer contact. It feels good. Additionally, I have been just blown away at how I am able to keep in contact both with those Peace Corps Volunteers in country who mean so much to me, but also, with all my loved ones at home. I really do not have the words to express how important you are all to me and I really really appreciate you not letting me fall off the face of the earth. You sustain me. So thank you.

Exciting developments/projects I am beginning to work on.

• I am helping establish a rountable banking scheme with a group of our peer educators(about 10). Essentially, every month they contribute 100 shillings to a general fund-In similar schemes this money is used as like emergency loans-but we are going to use it to begin a collective small business. Overtime as profits come in, we will reinvest it, and hopefully, if successful enough we will prove our worth to a lender and apply for a loan to establish a more formal business. This is all just in the discussion stages, but people are excited and eager to get it started! Once we see how this works on this group, and tweak it a bit, we will begin applying it with our other groups.

• This month I will begin to meet with headmasters/mistresses of our secondary(high) schools about beginning after school girls clubs. In talking with young women and also old women for that matter, it seems that people know about HIV/AIDs, but the problem we are seeing is that they are not able to incorporate that knowledge into their daily lives. Mainly this is a result of disempowerment. SO, I’m thinking to start up weekly clubs with young women where we will talk about all ranges of issue, relationships, sex, family planning, life goals, financial independence- really just providing an open forum for discussion, because talking about these things is really the first step. We will do empowerment activities, working on asserting our rights and our own decisions, and maybe in time we will start a mini sports league amongst the clubs. I am really excited about these projects as I feel that in myself, this is one of my strengths. I am a strong independent (and stubborn) woman. I have been meeting so many young women who are strong and intelligent but just don’t know it. If you don’t know it, you can’t capitalize on it, so I’m excited to bring it out!

• Along similar lines, one of my counterparts here in APHIA II wants to work on a girls leadership camp of sorts. PC actually has an annual camp countrywide and they are looking to train individuals to do local camps, so I plan to do that, probably not until spring of 2008.

• I will also be attending monthly clinics out in remote villages giving health talks. Essentially, we have a traveling clinic and before they hand out meds and such they want me to give a message. It will be on anything from clean drinking water and rehydration practices, anti malaria techniques, hospital usage, nutrition etc.

• I am begining to help set up a Big Brothers Big Sister type program for our street boys here in Voi. Also in the early stages but i suggested it to my friend who works with this population and she LOVES the idea. The idea is to give them someone to talk to and to give them motivation to go back to school or in some cases back to their families. to see that their futures can be so much more. i have a strange affinity for street kids. maybe its that once you get past them begging, you realize all they really need is some love. and i like to love.
  

• Today I will start up(again) my Kiswahili lessons 4 times a week. I have been really frustrated at my lack of progress the last month and am excited to get started again.

• Along non work lines- I’m taking my first mini break this week to a town called Taveta with a renowned market where I will meet up with my friend Lindsay from the states whose working in Tanzania and where I hope to do some beautiful hiking and maybe get a glimpse of Kilimanjaro! I’m having a Halloween costume party for PCVs and my friends in voi (we are getting a keg!!! WOOOoo. And I think I’ll be dressing as the Hyper Hypo!! HAH!(Mike Myers Nicole Kidman SNL skit) For thanksgiving, USAID and embassy families open their homes in Nairobi to us and invite us over for the night and feed us delicious meals. Around this time, my man friend Nate might also come visit me in Voi. First week of December my entire PC class heads to Nairobi for a one week training. We are all looking forward to this reunion! Following that I have 2 weddings! One is of a PCV friend whose fiancé is visiting from the states and they want to have a true Islamic wedding in an old mosque and they want me to be their photographer (EEK!) just following is my friends brothers wedding way way out in the bush and it will be just so amazing. He is already teaching me the dances and songs. I guess the men and women have this sort of dance/sing off. MAN IM SO EXCITED! Then just following that a bunch of us are renting a house on the beach for Christmas/new years.

Kwa sasa, maisha ni mzuri. For now, life is good. I have a buttload of work to get started on and a bunch of events to be excited for in the coming months! Hope all is well on the home front.

THINGS!!!

Things that fit nicely into letters (I’m throwing discreet out the window here!)

• PICTURES!!! Pictures of you and I, pictures of you in beautiful places, pictures of beautiful places!!
• What else is thin and cheap to send? CD’S!!!!! Don’t go out and buy anything new, just burn me a mix of what’s hot now or some of your favorite classics. In particular, I’m really jonsin for some good jazz, blues, soul etc. don’t assume I have any artist, even the classics, because I probably don’t! Also, if anyone has a copy of Stings new cd with the lute I would love a burn. Also been hearing a lot about Angie Stone’s- The Art of Love & War Kanye West’s- Graduation. Rock on!
• What’s not so cheap to send but rocks my world?!?!!? BOOKS!!!! Again, anything-im running low. used/recycled is ideal! Would love some books on development theory and philosophy. Also just classic literature, ground breaking new authors and/or your favorite author. Again, don’t assume I’ve read it because I probably haven’t. and if I have, ill read it again! Best way to send things is in envelopes of any size. They are cheaper and actually get here pretty fast. Thanks bunches!

To be an American…

Many people here in Kenya, Africa and really most extremely poor countries see America as this haven where all problems disappear-where you have money enough for everything you could desire. Whenever people approach me with this belief, I always work to dispel this sensation by explaining that life in America is hard for many, that many are going hungry and that, infact, many who make it to America with that sentiment end up severely disappointed and troubled. These numerous encounters have however made me reflect on what it means to be born American.

When travelling I always scoot across borders through inspection lines, while friends with Haitian or even French passports are hulled up and questioned for hours. In hospitals here, I present a card that says I'm US Peace Corps and I get the special treatment- pushed through to the doctor, no payment necessary. But being an American is so much more than being a citizen of the most powerful country in the world(powerful at least for the moment). It’s so much more than comfort and the abundance of food and material things. We have choice. Partially a result of being raised in an environment of relative comfort, but largely because of our surroundings-we are socialized into the notion and expectation of having the power to decide. Growing up in American society choice seems innate, built in, an inalienable right to human existence-and to a certain extent you can argue that it is. Maybe what is uniquely special about being born an American is the degree of these choices. It goes beyond the glorious decisions like should we have catfish or soysauce chicken for dinner-or should we scrap the whole thing and eat out? If we choose to eat out-what type of food –Chinese Mexican, Italian, Indian, Ethiopian…(can you tell I miss food variety?!) It goes beyond this to bigger more important choices. To issues like should I send my child to elementary school? Which highschool should I attend? What about college? What should I get my degree in? I don’t really like this decently paying job I was just offered, so I think ill hold out for the next. To CHOOSE to put all of this on hold and move across the world for 2 years. Its remarkable!!!(I do understand that for many in America choices are much more limited than those I have been afforded.)

No matter how bad life gets for me here, I always have the choice to return to America-home. In fact, it is inevitable that I will (even though my mom still isn’t convinced). Just this fact alone sets me apart. I can try as much as I want to live as the average Kenyan, to wash my clothes by hand, to take bucket bathes, to fetch water, to eat sakumawiki and ugali. I can be miserable because Voi is relatively ugly, I'm not doing the work I wanted and I don’t have those I love most immediately near me. I can feel trapped by my determination and this 2 year commitment I have made to stay here. The thing is, I'm not really. Trapped. People here live the meaning of this word every day. For some, there isn’t the option of sending kids to school. If they do, who will walk the 3 hours to get water for the family each morning? Who will spend the 2 hours it takes to cook each meal three times a day? Who will harvest the shamba? If there is an important agricultural show in Nairobi that might potentially revolutionalize my farming techniques and possibly put me at a surplus, I cannot go-too many people depend on me here to leave for a day. Its not a decision of which nicely paying, benefited job to accept, its hoping that maybe today someone will select you to pay an exploitive rate, maybe then today your family will eat. For most, there isn’t the option to fly away to a comfortable space when things get bad or you just need a break. You just go to bed and hope tomorrow is a better day. I want so badly to fully understand this existence. The thing is, no matter how hard I try to experience and live the way the majority of this world live, I wont ever. I always have America.

My Market

I think that perhaps the most important thing I got out of being sick is the realization that I am creating that community I so long for. Yesterday was a market day. I was still feeling pretty crappy but I was going stir crazy, I had no food and I just love market days, so I headed into town. On the way in, I ran into Hilda and her sister who were just so excited to see me as they hadn’t seen me in a week or so. A few weeks ago I befriended their family and they have been good to me (although I do think I might have been a little disrespectful in a religious debate with their uncle, but that’s for another day)Anyhow, I apologized for not coming around and explained that I had been sick-they get really concerned and apologize for not coming to visit me. They also chastised me for not telling them and insist that next time I call them so that they can come take care of me. I continue to the market. I start with the second hand clothes market so I don’t drop all my fruits and vegs while bent over a pile of old t-shirts. I hear “MWANAFUNZI RACHEL” ahhh, mwalimu! Its one of the shop keeps I joke around with-he says he missed me at Tuesdays market. We chat some more until I cant think of anything more to say and I move on down the row to greet some of the other shop keeps and bargain for some cool shit and get my way! [One of the main reasons I love markets is I love winning the battle of the bargain!] I go about 3 steps into the food/produce market and run into Mama Rachel (people here re-name themselves after their first born) ‘you have been soo lost’ she says-I usually hate it when people say this to me as it plays on my insecurity of actually appearing like a lost tourist-but today I accept the sentiment (Kenyan English for-I haven’t seen you in a while). She insists I go visit her husband and I do as I was already headed there. Mama Rachel and her husband Vincent were possibly the first friends I have made here. They are maybe 40 or 50 and sell produce on the ground -everyday same spot. They have taken me in. I see them almost everyday and they check up on me. When I get to where Vincent sits he was so concerned about me, he said all week he was worried and had no way to contact me. He gives me some rockin oranges (that rival California’s!) and tries to give me the potatoes too, but I insist on paying for them and remind him for the 5^th time that if he is going to give me something, he has to also allow me to buy something. So then he gives me twice as much as I want and tells me to pay him 5 bob, I give him 20. He’s my favorite, just truly genuine and caring. Final stop is Prucella –she too has missed me. She likes me, I don’t know why. She was the first vendor to gift me something (mangos!) and so I go back to her each market day. She always tries to overcharge me for her fruit, so I always only buy garlic-we might play this game for 2 years! I see Joy (from VYF) we talk about Ramadan and this past week we have missed together. [The other reason I love market days - I get to see friends, make friends, talk with people, learn from people, speak Kiswahili and get delicious fruit!] I’m exhausted but need eggs and bread from the supermarket. I go see Jayesh, he owns one of the supers and generally looks out for us. Every week he holds a curry dinner with a bunch of his friends – old Indian men- and whatever foreign volunteers happen to be around. We eat great homemade Indian food and drink beer for about $6. It’s a treat, anyhow, he tells me I look like shit and that I have lost too much weight (I always hate being told I look like shit when I already feel it!) I joke that I haven’t really lost weight I only cut my hair off. He is concerned that I am so sick and says he’ll have his wife make me chicken soup and tells me to always call if I need anything. The soup got me. When I’m really sick in the states my mom always brought me matzo ball soup. I felt a bit at home. I leave to go home and run into my favorite street boy Emmanuel who I haven’t seen in 2 weeks or so. I buy him bananas and we talk. This kid is struggling-he’s wearing this school uniform that looks as though it has been repeatedly splattered with muddy water-but he’s trying-his smile takes over his face and he has the kindest most innocent eyes for a boy who has seen too much in his 10 years. Shamefully, I think I like him so much because he reminds me of Sampson-one of my boys from Malawi. All this is to say I’m finding it here. It may not look like what I expected-but I’m building a community of people who I care for and who care for me, to share with and learn from. After yesterday I fell looked after and feel as though maybe Voi can be my home-eventually.

My daily life

*Disclaimer, this entry is by special request by those who love me enough to want to read this much detail. If that’s you, read on.

I wake up at about 6:15 am hop outta bed before I have the chance to internally debate the delicious thought of laying in bed awake and dreaming an extra 30 minutes-throw on some clothes and my running shoes. I leave my house, greet my guard who is watering what exists of a garden and I head out into the sunrise. Its gorgeous, the red dirt roads and the red rising African sun. The only people who seem to be awake are calm and greet me respectfully. By now they have gotten used to the crazy white woman who runs uphill and turns around and runs down at an hour when she should be fetching water or cooking or sleeping for that matter. I return home to shower. Now as a peace corps volunteer, I am blessed to actually have a ‘shower’ but it isn’t what you might imagine-or maybe it is. It’s a head that dribbles out cool water. Damn cold water actually at 7am. Every time I step under it my breathing becomes rapid and shallow and I am reminded of running into Lake Tahoe and coming out panting but refreshed. The shower situation is probably largely responsible for me cutting my hair off(don’t worry, its not boy short, its chin length and a rather nice cut for having done it myself.). ahhh as always, I digress. I pick out the least wrinkly clothing that doesn’t smell, throw it on and head to my kitchen to make breakfast. Most days its oatmeal made with powdered milk, cinnamon and about a half cup of sugar with a banana sliced on top. Its rather tasty actually, I find myself looking forward to breakfast. Also I wouldn’t be in Kenya(or a former British colony) if my meal didn’t include a large cup of chai. This is really just milky sugary tea. But I drink a lot of it, like about a half litre each morning. During my meals I read whatever book I'm on at the time. Right now it’s The End of Poverty (not sure how I feel about it yet, but its still early). I brush up, grab my CAPSES bag and head out to the office.

Its about 830am. It usually takes me about 15 minutes to walk to the office. Along the way I listen to the goats bleating, the wind in the trees an greet the few school kids who are running late to school and then I'm hit with the main street crowded with people, cars, tuktuks, hawkers-most mornings it seems like everyone and everything is yelling. I arrive to the office to check in and usually there are only a few people around. Kodi is sure to be there. He has grown to be one of my favorites. He is just genuinely friendly, loves to talk but keeps you entertained while doing so, and usually he is educating me on things like trapping animals or the uses for different types of trees. He has also taken great care of me while I have been sick these past many days. From here the day can take on any turn of events. Usually I hang around till at least 930 reading the daily paper and chatting with all the people who work at VYF and who are gradually becoming my friends. I could really spend all day doing this, sitting in the office talking-this seems to be what most of our members do anyhow…that’s for another rant. At 9:30 I will either be heading out to do an outreach with Allen in any one of the 5 main communities we work in. Outreaches usually consist of a lot of dancing and singing, a couple skits about specific health issues and then a question and answer session. A lot of what I did in Malawi, but here all I get to do is dance and I don't control the message that is being given(good and bad in different ways). OR it could be a day where I will work on my community assessment. These are the days I like most right now because they require me to think and I get to interact with a variety of people. To keep it short, these days I am mainly walking around observing the conditions, the available resources and interviewing people (in a way such that they don’t know I'm interviewing them) about their household roles and practices, about their problems in Voi, what they have and what they need. I learn a lot on days like this and my brain starts working overtime thinking of the reasons for these things, the implications and what I can work on for the next few years.

At about 1230 I will break for lunch. If in town, ill head to one of 3 restaurants I frequent and usually ill have beans in coconut milk, chapatti and a coke. Sometimes I eat alone sometimes I run into someone I know. After lunch I usually go say hello to Vincent and Mama Rachel and Jayesh. If it’s a market day ill head into the market. Then ill eagerly check my mailbox to see if anyone decided to make my day. Usually it’s a sad day at the Posta. Maybe ill head back to the office, maybe back out walking, maybe ill sit in on a session a co-worker is holding, maybe ill head home to do some writing/brainstorming. I usually cut out at about 500pm to go buy whatever I need for dinner and head home. I arrive home, have the same conversation with my guard I have every evening- maybe shower again depending on the sweat level of the day-change into my comfy cloths and throw some chai on the stove. This is probably my favorite part of the day. I take my delicious half liter of chai, my journal, book and phone out to my patio and spend the next hour or 2 just sitting and decompressing – digesting the events of the day, writing, reading, talking on the phone to volunteer friends or family and watching the sun set casting beautiful shadows over Sagalla mountain. Usually one of the neighbour women will stop by and say hello. When the light starts to fade and the swarms of mosquitoes come out ill head inside to cook dinner. Maybe ill put on my ipod for some jazz while cooking. Maybe its not as classy as jazz all the time…maybe its RENT. By now its probably near 7pm. What’s for dinner… Its totally dependant on what I have but usually it is a bunch of vegetables put together in some way accompanied by rice, mashed potatoes or if I am feeling super fancy sweet potatoes and coconut milk(SOO GOOD!) I’ll have desert of an orange or banana. A nice thing about Kenya is we’ve got a BUTT load of spices and a great variety of fruits and veg. I have yet to get too fancy or too Kenyan with my cooking, but in time. At 8pm ill sit down again with my book and eat dinner. Then ill do dishes wash up and get in bed and write letters or in my journal. I wont go to sleep for a few hours still, but I enjoy reading/writing in the comfort of my mosquito net.

So that’s an average day, however, it will all be changing soon (hopefully) as I get under way with some of my own projects and as other things arrive like my computer…and a yoga matt. Weekends hold any number of visitors, maybe a trip to Mombasa, cleaning house and doing wash, or events in town-futbol matches, maybe an event at the stadium celebrating literacy, family health, anything really, every week there seems to be some national day of sorts.

Days seem to be pretty full and I have the benefits of electricity and running water. In households without these things it is truly a full time job to keep the house clean, do laundry, got to market, fetch water and firewood and cook meals. Just to repeat the same tasks the following day. I realize how important electricity and running water are/have been in relation to women’s rights. Another something to chew on.

Economic and environmental trade-offs

As I look around this country going through an economic transformation, as I begin to get to know my surroundings a bit, I observe this trade off. This country is beginning to boom – beginning. From the big business and foreign investments all the way down to the individual coal makers, the environment is being slaughtered. Mainly what we have around Voi is the small scale business, where people are able to collect local resources add a value and sell it to make a living. We have people who cut down trees, treat the wood and sell the charcoal for cooking. We have people who dig these massive ditches collect water and bake bricks. Both of these are resulting in massive amounts of erosion, decreasing soil quality, and are contributing to desert encroachment-just to name a few issues. I don’t really know enough about environment and local ecologies to be able to get into the details, but its serious here. Do we condemn people and tell them to stop these practices? What if it means that they are unable to feed themselves and their families? What if it means another generation without access to secondary school? In a country with a 7% growth rate last year, millions are living in poverty and little is being done about it. So for those that are industrious enough to find a way to make it-should we turn a blind eye and allow them?

Crazy difficult questions. If we think about it, most industrialized nations have gone through a period of environmental exploitation to get to where we are today (hell, we are still doing it!). Have we learned our lessons? Have we learned any lessons? Where we are today, a place where we have lost a great deal, and stand to lose a great deal more(in terms of our environment) all in the name of economic growth and power, do we feel it has been worth it? Is it our place to tell people they cannot grow at the same rate we did, they cannot feed themselves, because we have the benefits of hindsight and maybe we have learned a few lessons? I don’t have the answers, just the questions for now.

…

Interestingly, shortly after finishing journaling about this, I read an editorial in the daily paper addressing the environmental woes of Kenya. The man was asserting that the church, more the mass conversion to Christianity and the throwing away of old tradition, is to blame for the environmental state of Kenya. Essentially (for those who don’t know) many of the old traditions, animism especially, have a devout respect for the earth and its elements. Inanimate objects like rocks and trees were respected as living spirits. People sacrificed to the earth and their ancestors that walked it before them. They would never imagine cutting down a tree just to sell it off.

This is what I love. Everything is connected. Economics, religion, environment. Its huge. Ignoring these connections is where many programs - developmental, social, political, economic- anything - go wrong.

The town of Maungu

Maungu is a ghost town, a town of seemingly abandoned bars, restaurants and hotels- a town of old men and unchaperoned children – a town of clouds of dust storms as cars whiz through it along the highway from Nairobi to Mombasa – a town I would have no idea existed if I were not visiting our sexworker peer educators. At night, this place is cracking! The dirt strips that border the highway turn into a tent city of hundreds of trucks. The bars are lit up and bumping loud bonga music and thousands of men and young women engage in business transactions. During the night, Maungu is a town of men and women congregating in the noisy bars and hotels. Come morning, the truckers leave town, sometimes taking a woman along for company, and the women sleep. Come morning, the kids wake up and play or wander about, many without meals, waiting for mom to come back awake.

Maungu is a town built around the transient nature of the two most at risk groups in Kenya. It thrives, it truly does. In Maungu, a quick time(a single orgasm) goes for about 50 Kenyan Shillings (less than a US dollar), if without a condom, a woman can be offered upwards of KSH 2,000. That’s forty clients-more than can be made in one nights work. In Maungu, condoms are present, available and free, but the knowledge of benefits and appropriate use is not. This surprised me to be honest. In talking with people all over Kenya, it seemed like most had this knowledge - most knew the benefits of condoms and most even knew the proper steps of use. Kenya is inundated with aid agencies, many working around issues of HIV/AIDS, but it seems that maybe this population has been ignored. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. I do find it interesting how we come in(we being aid workers), preaching to people to abandon all of their stigmas about sex and disease, and we ourselves cant get over our stigmas around sex workers. It makes me a bit sick inside. These women are incredible, really they are. In Maungu, we are seeing the HIV infection rate climb. We are having a difficult time recruiting people to work as educators to their peers, and an even harder time, maintaining them, as they leave town rather frequently. How to you achieve behavior change when you cant meet with a person more than once or twice? This really cannot be ignored as these men go home to wives and families and these women have futures.

"Sex should be enjoyed!"

A Kenyan colleague of mine said this to a group of mamas in Sagalla. Women should enjoy sex too! The looks of confusion, delight, discovery, guilt and relief on their faces were just priceless. It was like watching the movie Chocolate, a group discovering pleasure. Their eyes just lit up. Its as if they had been waiting for someone to tell them it was ok for them to enjoy it - in fact it was their right to enjoy it – some had been waiting to be told how to enjoy it. There was an excited quiet commotion and slowly questions started coming out like, ‘what if he goes flat, what do I do?’ Ah! Another great moment.

Getting my groove back-hatua kwa hatua

Step by Step. I began today fighting back tears and ended today with sheer joy. Its true what they say about PC – the highs are so high and the lows so incredibly low.

Today after some errands in town, I headed out to visit my friend Tori in a village about 1 hour away called Boguta. I boarded the matatu this morning tearing up, just wanting to lay down and cry and sink and release. I was one of the last passengers to fill the Nissan 14 seat bus, and I remember thinking that this was quite possibly the most incapable vehicle(if it could be called that) I have ever been on. It was rust eaten with random holes, parts were re-saudered back on, the sliding door didn’t close, and the cushioning for the seats were ripped open and exposed at every seam. The tout rode with his head out the window staring towards the back wheel as though he were watching to make sure things weren’t falling off the bus yet…what could I do? I closed my eyes and endured the ride. We sped rather smoothly down the tarmac. After about 20 minutes or so, we hit the turn off onto the dirt road that leads out to some of the more remote villages. Because of the condition of the road, there was no closing eyes and resting, no pretending you were somewhere else, infact, gripping onto anything possible for dear life is more like it.

At this point, the matatu is at full capacity. Because of relatively recent Kenyan laws, matatus are regulated to 14 passengers, each wearing a seatbelt and must be driving under 80 km/hr. For a large part these laws are enforced along the main highways… and really enforced is relative because many police can be bought off. All this is to say, I thought we were at full capacity, but man was I wrong. Just shortly after we left the tarmac we stopped and added 9 more passengers and some large sacks of grain and tree seedlings on top. Meaning an extra person on each bench seat, a few standing hunched over the seats and 3 men hanging out of the now open sliding door. One of the touts yells to me in Kiswahili from the window opposite, “here in Kenya, we get close!” everyone on the bus awkwardly laughs. As we continue on, a smile begins to creep across my face as we weave around rocks, potholes, carriages full of water jerry cans pulled by bulls and sometimes boys and their herds of cattle and goats. The driver honks wildly as we pass through towns informing residents that we are infact approaching and to prepare to board because we are just barely gonna stop. You cant help but laugh at the ridiculous spectacle.

Then the driver lays on the horn and slams the breaks-usually this indicates that a herd of cattle is in the road and you see the boys running frantically beating the cows to get them off the road just before our matatu swerves on by. (This could be a video game here) This time though, it’s a bit different as we come to a complete stop and then a gradual creep. Im stuck in what feels like a permanent hunch, so I maneuver my way to looking out the window and I see these long legs, hundreds on them, moving at a mechanical pace. I see a couple baby camel run by and realize that I am driving through a huge herd of camels. It was really a kind of magical moment-as we all stared out the window I shared in the moment with the young girl in a purple satin dress with puffy sleeves squatting over next to me. We both remark in a certain awe at how many there were. It made me feel better knowing that the crazy mzungu isn’t the only one who thought this was damn cool, the 12-year-old Kenyan did too. By this point, a smile had fully taken over my face. I then realize that this seemingly innocent 12 year old schoolgirl had a wedding band on her finger-amazing-I tried not to let the reality of this practice and its societal implications seep into my improving mood.

We continue on flying and swerving down the road horn blaring. We stop to let some passengers get off and I breathe a sigh of relief and begin to take back some of my good ol American personal space. Again, a little premature on my part. Some get off, but we add another 6 to our previous total. I end up with a woman’s legs between mine and an ass in my face, again back in that hunched position because of course, someone is also leaning over me. One man climbs on top of the car, another hangs off the side ladder and there are now 5 men hanging out the open door. We start up again at the same clip, and im thinking what a tragedy this would be if we got into an accident. It starts to rain steadily-coming in through all of the open doors and holes-im flat out laughing at this point-Karibu Kenya.

...

I arrive in Boguta, walk to the nearest duka(shop) and ask in Kiswahili where my friend Tori lives. She is the only white face in the village, so they point me down the road towards her house. After repeating my questioning a few times, I find where she stays, but she is not there. One of the men sitting idly nearby gets 3 young kids to take me to where she is leading a session on water sanitation issues. These kids take me gladly, holding my hand and leading me down the path, giggling an barefoot. We say hello to everyone we pass and I can read the looks of confusion on their faces at the presence of another mzungu in town.

Tori is just finishing her session and is delighted to see me!! We head back with the kids and along the way, the sky opens up again, we all begin running and laughing down the pathway through homes until we read Tori's house. It was just a wonderful moment to share, a bit of the glimpse of feelings to come! At Tori's house, I unpack the gifts I brought for tori. ‘baked’ chocolate oatmeal cookies (now chocolate crumbles), oranges, a mango, an avocado that has exploded everywhere in the bag and a flattened banana. We both start into a fit of laughter-without explanation, we both knew that the matatu ride had decimated everything in the bag, and really, what can you do but laugh?

...

In the afternoon, tori and I head out for a walk into the hills around Boguta with no real destination in mind but the hills, and perhaps, if it worked out, we would stumble upon a group of women who dance traditional Druma dances every evening. Perhaps. We start out of town and end up on this bright red dirt road surrounded by plains, a few rolling hills and even scarcer mountains jutting up for dramatic effect. Because it is a rainy day and because we are in Kenya, the cloud formations are just incredible, casting amazing shadows over the brilliant landscape as the sun comes out. A lighting scheme similar to those you might encounter in the Southwest. It was absolutely gorgeous, I had that goofy grin across my face-you know the one- its frequently accompanied by me remarking how everything is just gorgeous in the ever changing view. I was in the ‘I love it’ mood – everything was incredible. Man it really was. It felt good to be out there, to discover, relax and begin to experience a bit of the beauty this country has to offer outside of its sprawled urban and peri urban centers. It started to rain a little just adding to my state of wonder. We continued walking and soon the red dirt road narrowed to a red dirt pathway and we wound our way up into the druma hills. Because the pathway we were on was the only real walking path/route along this hillside, we soon found ourselves in the middle of a homestead comprised of 4 mud houses with straw roofing. Being 2 tall white faces, they knew we were coming before we knew where we were going. They ran out and met us on the path with greetings and insisted on carrying our nalgenes. They bring out chairs for us, we engage them in conversation, again pretty brief as our Kiswahili is still young… when we lose the ability to communicate in a common language, we just stare at each other for a little while, maybe a few of the girls in their bright kangas will come over and pet our hair. As we get tired of the staring we tell them that we are in search of the Druma dancers and they point us in the right direction-really the only direction along the path other than where we came from. We repeat this interaction a few more times at each homestead we happen upon.

Eventually we reach the compound where the dancers meet just as they were beginning to congregate for the evening. They were overjoyed to have us. They sat us down and fed us roasted corn as they finished the preparations. As my hungry belly enjoys the snack, im taking in the gorgeous landscape. We are on a hillside that looks out over the green and red plains and sharp mountains in the distance. You can see for miles. Its my favorite time in the evening, the sun is just beginning to lower creating that warm glow and contrasty long shadows. The wind has picked up – but only a little- just enough to isolate the sound of the wind and those sounds we were creating as the only audible sounds around. As more people come, the women begin dancing. The leader, the chiefs son, begins to sing in a call and answer pattern. The women answer in their high an raspy yet full voices. As the instruments show up, they add into the rhythm- a couple hand drums, some overturned jerry cans, a metal bicycle rim and long bolts, a wooden flute and two maracas made of metal cans that gave the moment a mesmerizing intensity. They all begin to find their unity, their sound, and the women begin their slow, slow dance-small steps, maybe a little hip motion, but mainly a whole lot of shoulder and breast shaking. But slow. I remember just sitting there stunned by the beauty of the moment; the landscape, the low sunlight, the raspy voices of dancing mamas, the intense beat of the drum, and the brightly colored fabrics caught by the wind as the mamas danced rhythmically. It was one of those moments where nothing else in the world existed, a moment that cannot be captured by any media because it consumes all of the senses, a moment that went on for the next hour as the mamas invited us to join them – we sang and we danced, smiled and laughed. I was bursting with joy. Tori said she kept looking over at me and I was just overwhelmed with goofy happiness. High. A high only Africa can give me. For the next hour we just shared with the group, embracing people as they joined in the circle and slowly migrating to the drum in what can only be described as local dance-offs. Everyone in the area found their way to us and sang and clapped and watched. Ahhhh it was just glorious. We stopped only when our bodies were too exhausted to find another muscle to isolate rhythmically. The mamas fed us some more roasted corn. We all hugged and said our jubilant goodbyes, them insisting that we return, and us promising we would. They sent us down the path towards Boguta – I was nearly skipping down the path as the sun set. I had found it, why I returned, that Africa high, the shared joy with complete strangers. I had the moment I was waiting for, confirming I still had that happiness inside of me. It’s here - I’m here.

What am I here for? I might have an answer…labda.

This has been one crazy ass week, a week that for the majority of time I have been trying to quiet the voice inside my head that has been screaming “this isn’t why I came here!!! IM NOT HERE FOR THIS!!!” This loud emotional voice is mainly a result of sitting in the office constructing weekly work plans with my colleagues(which I am no expert in as im not an efficiency consultant), the bureaucratic structures our group finds itself tangled in (see blog entry on funding vision) and the chaotic periurban lifestyle that makes up my day to day life. I have become a bit disillusioned with my post. I realized this week after nearing tears of frustration countless times, that yes I came to contribute, yes I came to be challenged, but I also came to slow down, I came to put a little bit of peace back into my soul, to live how the majority of the world lives, to find my beauty again. I realized I set aside these 2 years of my life to live in a rural setting, to be surrounded by community and customs – to live the beauty that is Africa. I have the rest of my life for efficiency, long workdays and comfort. In fact, im sure that’s what a good part of the rest of my life will look like (remember, comfort is most definitely relative!).

This realization came to a head as I went with a woman from the APHIA II office (one of our partner orgs) to visit a remote hilltop village that we work in. Even just driving out of Voi I felt the change of pace – just small things life women carrying water on their heads down the dirt road or men walking their bikes because the large load of wood sticking off the back is impossible to balance. We wound our way up the mountain and already I was fantasizing about moving out to one of the many remote homes tucked into the hills. I even got as far as to make a plan of action for moving my stuff from voi and my first steps towards community integration. It all just made more sense to me – it seemed more tangible, more along the scale I imagined living life these coming years. All of this before we even reached our destination of Sagalla.

Then I stepped out of the car and into this hilly, lush absolutely serene, peaceful and intimate town of Sagalla. It was as though time stopped briefly. I stood still and listened-I could hear the birds, the wind, the children playing and the soft conversations of people working, almost hushed though it was so calm a pace. I stood and I watched – I saw men and women working in the green fields, mamas fetching water, people meandering through the terraced hills and others engaged in conversation as they patiently waited to be seen at the medical compound. The air a little cooler and more crisp to touch. It was a moment similar to when you are heading up to your favorite campground for the first time in the summer. You have been away so long, you have been waiting to be reunited, you step out of the car, you see familiar beauty and you smell the air-it travels through you and with that first breath, your disposition changes, you are more at peace, more calm, comfortable, you are home. My eyes teared up as I thought “this is what I came here for”. It is saddening how right it felt, just knowing that the atmosphere and the sensation do exist, and that it is not where I am posted.

We spent the day in a training session for mamas from 13 neighboring villages who would essentially become health advisors in their respective villages. They are not given actual medical training but are taught to recognize signs and symptoms of troubled pregnancy and are charged with referring these mamas to the hospital.* So they are educated on matters of family health, HIV/AIDS, STI’s, cancer, violence against women and female empowerment. This training will go on for a week and in the coming year, these mamas will be given further trainings for their communities benefit. We are essentially doing this in maybe a dozen communities and within different populations(youth, sexworkers, mamas, mzees(old men)…) Its really quite a great program with a rather large scope, and I was finding it a bit difficult to wrap my mind around how I can contribute. Having a hard time deconstructing the issues of so many communities to a digestible level. How can I create something new in these communities to have ownership of? It seems the work is already done. I saw myself mobilizing women and youth and giving them training on health issues, but we already have incredibly well informed people in the community to do this, and in much better Kiswahili than I could ever achieve.

Maybe what I am here to do is just contribute to the trainings. Maybe this ownership of my own project is just BS that I have been socialized into thinking is necessary to be a successful human. If everyone in a community contributes their specialized knowledge to a project, it will be accomplished to its full potential. So I wont contribute on health issues I don’t think, they seem to have that covered. I’m thinking business and income generating enterprises. In talking with community members, colleagues at Voi Youth Forum and APHIA II, this is where there is a gap. We have already discussed the economic situation of many in my community and the massive amounts of free time they have. It seems that I can be effective in helping people get the money they need to start up small businesses, teaching people to do market assessments (so that they aren’t starting a business to make coal when there are already 10 people in their small town making and selling coal), write business plans and grant/loan proposals. There really isn’t anyone doing this with these populations. So maybe ill be a business volunteer, its what I really wanted to do anyhow…I have some educational background in this field, not much, and no actual real life applications, but this is Africa, and everything has to be relearned to work in this particular environment anyhow. This is what peace corps is all about-literally starting from scratch.

*side note: it is super interesting that on some levels, infrastructure like hospitals is present, but now people need to be educated on how and when to access these institutions

Give the man the damn pole...

They say give a man a fish an he’ll eat for a day, teach a man to fish an he’ll eat for a lifetime- but what if he doesn’t have a pole, or net or boat or crumbs from his table to use as bait – what good is a skill or has knowledge if you don’t have the capital to put it into practice? I think I came here expecting to do a skills transfer of sorts. Even in training when dealing with income generating activities they were sometimes discussed as though we would train the community how to do a certain activity that would earn them some income. But I imagine that many people have the skills, its just a matter of getting started.

So I have been thinking about these issues all week, what it is going to take on my part and what these communities have/need. The past few days I have also been finishing up Muhammad Yunus’ book Banker to the Poor on microcredit (talk about timing!!). He articulates a point that I imagine many of us have thought about, and provides a constructive solution. Yunus states that the main reason why the poor are poor is not because they do not have the knowledge or skills to earn a living, but more that they are stuck in this system where they cannot get the money to start up business on their own. Essentially, the poor become trapped in a cycle where they are beholden to those middlemen who exploit this problem, by lending out money or supplies in the morning and expecting to receive it back in the afternoon tenfold, forcing people to give up any real profit they make and just barely keeping them from starvation so they keep coming back the next day. Yunus clearly illustrates throughout the book that it is not the skills that are needed, but the startup cost for a small business, and nobody had been willing to lend to them.

I have studied many aspects of micro credit and have really heard all this before, but it takes on a new level of magnitude living in the community I am in. So here I am, in Kenya, in a community with thousands unemployed-trapped in this cycle of poverty. We have some lending institutions in place that might lend to some of these people granted they present their ideas and projects appropriately. Hopefully that is where I can help, help people take their ideas and make them reality, help people get that fishing pole. We shall see. Ive got a lot of learning ahead of me.

Funding Visioned

I sat in on a training last week that was funded by APHIA II which is directly funded by USAID. This training was on health issues for peer educators but we spent a good 3 hours of the day discussing data collection. Essentially for reporting purposes, the donor agencies need to know how many people were reached by certain efforts and to what extent they were reached(level of information distributed). Additionally, this week in talking with members of my org. about projects not dealing with peer educators(where the funding is coming in), it seems that they cannot get anything off the ground. Again, its not because the ideas aren’t there, they say they have all of these ideas but the decision making structure being as it is in our office, decisions are made collectively and people can not get a sit down with decision makers because they are too focused on these peer education sessions and reporting for donors.

It seems the focus of the org is shifting. It seems that my org has become tunnel visioned- focusing on those issues that bring them funding. I understand that every org as it grows necessitates funding but I am wondering if it is good for the org and does it really have the communities best interests and needs in sight? (I myself have no opinion as this is a public blog and I am an employee of the US government.). Is it possible that this small grassroots org is being co-opted by national and international agencies? If so, what does this mean for my org and the community? It’s an interesting moment for VYF.

Communication is important yo

Yo, i have a new address

Rachel Santos
Peace Corps Volunteer
P.O. Box 763
Voi, Kenya 80300

All mail that is sent to the previous address will be forwarded so no worries.

Also, note about cell phones in Kenya because i think it is still a bit unclear for some.
If you call me, i do not pay anything to receive a call or txt, so dont feel like you are charging me to call or that you need to wait for airtime on my phone before you call. The only time i need money is when i place a call to you fine folks. in case you forgot my number is 0729571953

Pia, thanks for the emails and comments, its nice to hear from you all.

Football -- so much more than just a game

In just the week that i have been here, i have encountered numerous international and domestic organizations, including my own, that are devoted in part- if not entirely-to the creation of football leagues and matches. they have taken this on in an effort to get young adults thinking and acting in a healthy and productive manner. the idea is to give people something to plan around, to train for, to watch and perhaps most importantly, to be proud of. To get them off the streets so to speak, steer them away from thinking about and engaging in sex and drugs, and exhaust the hell out of them so that when they are done, they go home and sleep instead of heading to the bars. so the other day, i found myself looking for something to do with my time other than head home to my lonely octagonal palace(as PCVs are beginning to refer to it) and i stumbled onto a match at our stadium(dirt field).

I was sitting waiting for the game to start and i noticed first, that i was the only woman sitting in the crowd and all around me are about 100+ men sitting - waiting. 100 or so men just waiting for a game to start at 4pm on a Wednesday- 100 or so men who are out of work, day laborers and idle for much of their daily lives. I struck up a conversation with one of the young men sitting next to me. I asked him what the hardest thing was for him about living in Voi. He, a young man of about 22 and a form 4 leaver(highschoool graduate), answered work. he said he has been out of school and trying to get a job for the past 1.5 years and cannot, thus working as a daily laborer-spending all day working jobs like construction for about 150 shillings(about US$2). this is a good day, because competition is tough out there to get these informal jobs.

Actually, the first question i asked him was 'unafanya nini?' what do you do'. he said 'I'm a footballer, i play football'. its an interesting concept-giving youth some agency in their lives by giving them sport. sport because they cannot be given jobs that don't exist, jobs that many of us use to define ourselves, our contributions to this world, our relation to others and even for some, happiness. These 100 or so young men represent probably upwards of 5,000 people in my town and i have no estimate for what it means on a national scale (though i have heard informally that national unemployment is around 50%). Needless to say, its a big problem for thousands of men and women-who for now-are proud to be footballers.

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a few more technical side notes-these day laborers are not paying taxes, pointing to another large problem in this country, taxing the informal. additionally, in those areas where they do pay taxes, like at the supermarket and petrol stations, they are enraged. here over half of the country is jobless, thus food is scarce, many do not have access to clean water and electricity, road accidents are a top killer here due to the poor condition of the roads. the youth (quite rightly) don't feel that their money is coming back to them at all... i wont go into a rant on inefficient and corrupt uses of government funds...but its there.

also, about a week ago, an economist from the American embassy came and spoke to us. he mentioned that many companies are interested in moving their call centers to Kenya because people like the Kenyan english accent better. However, a really large problem this country is facing is infrastructure...once again in my experience/research it boils down to infrastructure. problems surrounding telecommunications, internet, reliability of electricity- all this is problematic if you are an investor looking for stability. call centers would create thousands of jobs...once again tho, we are paralyzed by infrastructure.

The price of sex...

Yesterday I sat in on a training session for peer educators(people who work within their peer groups to teach them about any number of the issues we work on), this session was for sex workers and matatu tauts. first i found it pretty interesting that when talking with the group, the women were shy to discuss their work and the rates they charge, but the men, the men were free and willing to discuss the rates at which they get sex in voi. the reason this came up -- the leader of the session was trying to make a point about pricing. he mentioned that many tour guides have stopped staying the night in a nearby town because sex is too expensive, but they have found that sex in voi is cheap and we now have upwards of 400 tourguides(for neighboring Tsavo park) in town sleeping with our women on any given Friday. The session leader was trying to encourage the women to raise their prices so that it would drive this clientel out of town. i find this an interesting suggestion in that my organization works with the sex workers to encourage, and provide tools for them to live healthier lives. we also work to give them alternative occupational training, but we recognize that this is a business transaction and that there are many forces in the economy that create this market. It doesn't seem conducive to business for these women, who need these clients and their money to survive, to drive out these men. just a bit to chew on, still figuring things out.

Warning-im in a bit of a place

so i wrote this a few nights ago on a friends laptop, things change by the hour and are looking up.

I don't know if I have ever been this scared. Actually, I know it, I have never been this scared, Im damn terrified. Im not afraid of being attacked, im not afraid of the many critters/reptiles living in my home, im not afraid of getting sick or injured in anyway. This isn't that kind of fear. This isn't like jumping out of a plane, where you have no control over what happens to you in the air and you know you are safe when your feet hit the ground, this isn't like the most important interview of your entire life or a final where you know you just need to power it out for a few more hours and it will all be over. There isn't a rush involved with this fear. There isn't any deadline or set moment when this fear will subside. I'm scared of daily life, im scared I won't be happy, im scared I won't actually be effective, and most of all, Im scared of loneliness. Im scared of all im giving up to be here, im scared of losing a man who has come to mean a great deal to me and is now across the country. I usually seek out a certain degree of fear – I think in those types of situations you learn the most about yourself, those around you, and life. You experience things many run away from and they can turn out to be magical and beautiful. Right now I just want to say to myself, fuck all your mantras. This is nearing paralysis here.

I woke up this morning and for the first time in all of my travels I thought, fuck, im in voi. This isn't a reflection of my site (Voi) sucking, but more a reflection of today being another day(day 4 alone at site) where I will not have the possibility of seeing anyone I love or remotely care about (other than the degree to which I care for and regard all people). Another day of not seeing anyone who knows me, knows how to make me laugh, knows how to challenge me and comfort me. Really, it has only been 4 days, so you are all thinking, suck it up Rachel that's like a long weekend. What is so daunting is the possibility of feeling this way indefinitely. Its pretty impossible that in 2 years I wont meet someone who can do all this in voi…but right now it feels possible.(sorry for the double negative) I feel incredibly alone and I feel like this will last for 2 years, which at this point in the game, seems like forever.

I will now give you the disclaimer. I am currently in day 4 of what every Peace Corps volunteer refers to as the most difficult 3 months of their lives. Things might get a little dark. Don't think you are losing me or that I am becoming a depressed cynic, just know there is a lot I am struggling with. I want to vocalize them so that you can have an idea of what I am facing. Pole. Right now, I am alone and not really contributing anything substantial to this world, so I am absent some of that passion that usually lights me up. Its there, it's just hiding while I figure out exactly what all this means and how best to use myself to benefit my community.

Today did however end up much better than it started off. I went into the office and mainly just hung out with the many people who swing through our office and resource center (vice president of ministry youth affairs organizing a big march of the youth and area clean up, young women who are forced into sex work to finance their education studying in our 'quiet' resource room, vocational trainers, human rights activists researching and monitoring the public spending of local governmental institutions among many things, environmental activists working to preserve the last remaining bit of forest in the area, peer educators, and really any other number of folk. This was just today.). You can imagine the variety of conversations I was able to have today. So that was uplifting and I believe it gives you a taste of the organization I am working with. It is called Voi Youth Forum and its goals are basically to empower the youth (in Kenya, this category is stretched a bit to about 30, so congrats to all you 28 year olds fretting about turning one more year closer to 30, you still get to check the youth box - in Kenya at least). It started as a few people coming together and realizing that this country's future is bleak if society didn't start addressing the issue of out of school and or unemployed dis-empowered young people with little to do but drugs and drink. We have 5 areas of focus, AIDS and reproductive health, gender equality, environment and wildlife conservation, child advocacy (child labor/sex work are HUGE issues here), and eradication of corruption/creation of good governance. All in all I am thankful to be working with such a great group of motivated and caring people. I am a little surprised by the structure-- I imagined living in a mud hut with no real organization to be working for and really just talking to people to figure out what it is that is needed. Which is still a little true, I will take the next 3 months to get to know the rather large town and the half dozen or so interior villages that I will be working in, try to do some needs assessment, and figure out what I can do from within the organization to help, and what some other side projects might prove beneficial in the coming years.

What I know of voi town thus far, it is big. Like damn big. Much bigger than Davis. We have a dance club, a store devoted entirely to wine(smiles, I feel like the force above was really looking out for me, I mean really, how many stores are there in east Africa with a name like 'wine makes the world better'), we border the largest national park in Kenya thus get a lot of tourists, people mainly speak Kiswahili, people are crazy friendly and patient with me as I accost them on the street and exhaust my Kiswahili in a desperate attempt to start feeling like I belong, voi town appears relatively wealthy because of the numerous international aid agencies and NGO's, but on the outskirts and dipping into the interior, we see most people living in abject poverty. The town is beautiful, it is a merging of many things, rich poor, peri urban clutter and peaceful landscapes, cultures from all over Kenya, Africa and old England(boo colonial legacy)…I could go on.

Lastly ill talk tonight about my house, because it is noteworthy and absolutely not what I expected. Things I love about my house (initially)

It's a huge octagon. It has character. I have electricity and running water. Each room is uniquely shaped, has tons of windows, killer kitchen with 4 burner gas stove/oven and tile counter, vaulted-esq ceiling with skylight, many a wooden doors and beams to give it the rustic feel, 12 floor to ceiling wooden folding doors – with great lighting potential, and its only a 10 min walk to town. From pictures it looks almost like a vacation cabana. ALMOST.

Things I don't love about my house

It's too much space for me-compounding the loneliness issue. my toilet leaks- i miss my choo. The shape lends itself to many nooks and crannies for bugs and bats to live in. The windows are slat windows, therefore never fully close, therefore permitting every noise within a mile radius to enter and sound as though they are taking place in my house, also creating some terrifyingly loud wind suctions. Kitchen is still cool, though one of my burners is broken and stuck on, creating potential headline "PC Volunteer decimates entire small Kenyan town in gas exploosion accident"... My skylight has been covered by landlord in order to kick out birds that are nesting and making a mess. Wooden doors and beams are infested with termites and the 12 doors, in addition to providing the perfect environment for upwards of 20 wasps nests, in addition to being slatted and contributing to the noise/wind problem already mentioned, they don't actually really open. So really I have 4 doors that open…oh yeah, and the 10 min walk from town (which is in a smallish valley essentially) means every single noise in town comes through clearly here…this is not my quiet place. Actually surprisingly, right now, at 9pm on a Sunday, ray lamontagne is coming through clearly with little background noise. Ahhhh.

i think ill call it a night. i have great access to internet, so ill try and post some less emotional more substantive writing soon. please continue sending mail, it makes my life.

My Peace Corps Assessment

I am going to take one more email to just get some of the nitty gritty details out and then, hopefully, i will be able to start writing some substantive emails. I just want to all to have a base understanding of what the day to day is for me- and it involves a whole hell of a lot of peace corps- the good and the bad. first let me just say, that last email, was me incredibly giddy to just get on the internet(having time, electricity, shillings etc.) and letting my fingers dance across a keyboard once again-it was pure excitement to feel connected. What made my day, following my lesson the afternoon i wrote the email, i went to collect my mail and had an outstanding letter from one ms. frances ruth lessman which closed by saying "I am just dying for your first letter/email... I cant wait to get everything in scattered great detail! The Rachel way!" it made me laugh and know that this email will be along the same lines, nothing poetic, so skip it if you so desire.

Peace Corps...I have now finished week 5 of my training, and you would not believe what an accomplishment that feels like for some. structure- we spent 3 days in Nairobi doing admin junk and a crash course in kiswahili, and on our first Sunday in country, we headed to kitui where we are currently enduring 10 weeks of Peace Corps Training. throughout this time we are doing language anywhere from 2- 6 hours a day, technical training on issues such as healthy diets for positive people, solar cookers, water purification etc., medical training on volunteer health and personal issues (these sessions can be mighty scary(the mango fly is sooo much scarier than even imagined...if you are interested in vomiting, go on google and find a picture of the eggs as they hatch in your skin bleck!!!), absolutely entertaining (the sex discussion was a riot!!!), or positively boring (what is HIV and ARV's etc and how can you as a volunteer protect yourselves...) yeah.) In addition, each volunteer has a primary project and a secondary project. for me, i have been working on a sub surface dam with a community group, and my secondary project is working on income generating projects with a womens group. all in all, i love these projects and am learning a lot from them. So evenings and weekends are spent studying, reading, hiking, playing/watching ultimate with friends and spending time with the family which means cooking or church going. needless to say, we are crazy busy and exhausted and in some cases, we are just plain tired of dealing with PC and cant wait to get the heck to site!

so, this brings me to the FSV(future site visit (everything in PC is an acronym, it can get a little tiresome, even for me) FSV what has been this guiding light for the last 5 weeks, whenever we are sick and tired of kitui town and PC bullshit is piling up, we look at the calender and count the days to FSV. This is in week 6(YES TOMORROW!! AHHHHHHHHH) and all 48 of us travel to Nairobi, party hardy Sunday, and Monday, WE ARE TOLD THE LOCATION IN WHICH WE WILL SPEND THE NEXT 2 YEARS!!!! and on Wednesday after some workshops, we travel to this future site and kind of do an assessment of the local, living conditions, apparent community needs and our counterparts. The decision of where we will be placed lies almost entirely in the hands of 2 people whom have our resumes, aspirations statements and our wish list and whom we have all had brief interviews with. I really do not know how to articulate the magnitude of this information. so much lies in the hands of so few- it is a matter of being somewhere where kiswahili is actually spoken(coastal/eastern) as opposed to the majority of the country where vernacular languages dominate the majority of the conversation. this is important because most volunteers not on the coast do not learn another language, instead, they communicate in english...that just sucks. this decision dictates whether i will continue to live in produce heaven or whether i will possibly get scurvy as a current volunteer did (HAH!!). Finally, this decision outlines my relationships with fellow volunteers for the next few years. will i be placed near those incredible people whose conversations and alternative thought processes i cherish, who i have been waiting to meet for years, and who i have come to depend on - or will it be near those incredibly obnoxious people who are so lost and out of touch with themselves that they join the PC and say things like, "when im drinking, i sleep where i fall!" and think they have won the non-existent popularity contest. yeah, these are just a few of the things running through my head right now. needless to say, i cannot wait for tomorrow, when i will be in Nairobi, eating cheesy everythings and drinking passion fruit mojitos an wine and then Monday, when my future is handed to me.

Ok, briefly, Peace Corps review time. I am going to start by saying that there are days when i am glowing and cannot imagine any other organization i would rather move to Africa with this early in my career. I am impressed by the extent of medical coverage, access, information, and care - our nurses hug people for gawds sake, they are like our mamas. I am impressed by the massive amount of materials that is given us so that we will succeed when on our own. we really have access to anything we could think of pertaining in any way to our projects. we are surface trained for everything in the public health spectrum from needs assessments to HIV/AIDS to water catchments to solar cooker construction to income generating activities, its really damn awesome. i feel as though so much of what i am learning now and am being trained in now is sooooo applicable to my future career and once again, i am full of this energy that tells me i am doing what i am supposed to be doing at this moment in my life. its really quite phenomenal. Additionally, i have met some wonderful people who are beginning to occupy a very special place in my heart. I wont go into the details of the people, but just know they rock big time, and ill share as these years unfold-we've got nothin but time.

Ok, now that i feel i have sufficiently talked up peace corps, let me tell you, sometimes i just want to scream at the bureaucracy. it is truly amazing some of the ridiculous hoops we have to jump through all so that PC Washington can cover their ass. there are days where i feel i am getting dumber and am in utter need for mental stimulation. days like this, at least we have eachother and our plethora of development/Africa books we all have brought along. right now though, i am on a peace corps high so i dont want to search for the negative just to explain to you how much it sucks sometimes, just trust me - kweli kabisa!

Kiswahili rocks, i love it, i just sat down on a one on one with my instructor and spoke for a full hour...it felt pretty incredible and i had this goofy glow about me because i just spoke in another language for a solid hour.

the generator is running out of fuel and i am losing your attention i am sure, but know that i am well, fulfilled and happy to be here. I miss the heck out of all of you and love hearing from you. please send letters. also, if you are sending food, do not mark that in the customs slip, just lie and try and conceal it. also do not send alch or sexually explicit material. everything gets opened.

love you all,