Well we’re back in Nairobi. Classes are classes and well, after
feeling like I’ve been on a month-long vacation, it’s tough to get back in the
swing of writing papers and reading scholarly articles. Yes, I know what you’re thinking “Oh
Emma, you’re so spoiled. All of us at WashU are swamped with work and you’re
off playing with giraffes and writing reflective papers about your incredible
experiences.” Well, I’ll have you know that I have THREE papers due Friday. Ok,
so maybe I received these assignments over a week ago and I’ve had plenty of
time to write them (but obviously haven’t cracked a book). Whatever. I’m
definitely not using this blog post as an opportunity to procrastinate further.
My newest host family is GREAT. They live on a beautiful
compound only a few miles from our compound in Karen. My father is a chemical
engineer who went to university in Bulgaria and then England, and has travelled
all over Europe. We love to chat about politics, which really means that I love
having him teach me about politics, Kenyan history, and the upcoming election. Usually
I’ll bring up some current events issue from the day (to seem as if I’m a big
shot and know what I’m talking about), and then my father will proceed to clarify
the issue and branch off into a more pressing matter that Kenyans actually care
about. He’s smart. He’s funny. He’s awesome.
My host mother is a sassy businesswoman who now does HR
consulting. She’s organized, straightforward, loves to go on long walks, and
treats herself to massages every once in a while. She considers me her daughter
and wants me to live at her home for the rest of my time in Kenya even though
my homestay technically ends this Friday. I certainly would not be one to
object. Their home is huge, equipped with Wi-Fi, gym equipment, a greenhouse,
and 11 dogs (5 of which are 3-week old puppies).
I also have two younger siblings. My brother is 19 and
commutes to university each day. He loves Lil Wayne and drives a Mercedes…in
other words, he’s obviously too cool for me. My sister is 14 and attends an
American-style school in our neighborhood. I’ve always wanted a sister and
we’ve become fast friends. On Saturday we spent the entire afternoon watching
the newest season of Glee, and on
Sunday I taught her how to bake brownies from scratch. Everyone in our family was very
impressed that she hadn’t just added water to a Betty Crocker mix.
We talk about hair a lot. I admire her long, braided
extensions with strategically placed streaks of green and blue braids. She
wishes she had my hair so that she could bleach it, dye it, cut it, and
magically not damage it whatsoever. When she asked me why I don’t alter my hair
dramatically, I told her that it’s because I don’t want to go bald before I’m
30.
Perhaps my favorite member of the family (although it’s hard
to choose) is Ruth, our house help. She claims she doesn’t know any English,
but of course she communicates that to me in English. In fact, all of our
conversations have been in English, and they’ve actually gotten pretty heated.
She’ll serve me a heaping pile of food and tell me that she’s going to help me
gain 2 kilos before I leave. Then I proceed to cry out that I’m going to be
sick from eating so much food. She plugs her ears and starts singing. I moan in
agony…and shovel the food into my mouth. I can never win with her. Of course
she only drinks tea all day and barely eats anything come dinnertime. It’s just
not fair!
I’m the first Jew that Ruth has ever met, which has started
some pretty interesting conversations. She’s baffled by the fact that I don’t
claim Jesus as my savior and I don’t believe in heaven or hell. I can’t wait to
see what she’ll do when I tell her that our services are on Saturdays! I’ve
promised to go to church with her one weekend, and I told her that I will take
her to the synagogue in Nairobi one day. She’s my pal and I’ll miss seeing her
everyday once I leave.
The way our classes are scheduled during the weeks when
we’re at our urban homestay goes as follows: Monday through Thursday we have
Kiswahili at 8:30 am followed by three 1.5 hour blocks of classes. The first
block is followed by our lunch break. It feels like I’m back in middle school.
I wake up at 6, get dressed, pack my lunch, quickly eat breakfast, and then get
driven to the neighborhood Nakumatt (think Target but BIGGER) at 6:30, which
acts as my makeshift bus stop. A
cab picks up my friend Chloe and me (whose host family lives in my
neighborhood) and proceeds to drive us for two hours into Nairobi for class.
Keep in mind that Nairobi is barely 30 minutes away without traffic. The roads
are literally bumper-to-bumper getting to school. Add in the crazy matatus and
you’ve got yourself one hell of a traffic jam. Last week we had some trouble
with our taxi service. Wairimu had
systematically planned out a transportation schedule so that they would pick
each of us up in the morning and return us home in the evening. They didn’t
follow through so well on their end of the bargain, so being the boss that she
is, Wairimu fired them! Now one of my mother’s personal cab drivers takes my
friend and me to school. <3 John!
On Fridays we have Kiswahili followed by some afternoon activity.
Last Friday we went to Kibera to experience what life is like in the slums. Just
imagine 1 million people squeezed together in tiny shacks that together take up
only 1 square mile of land. It’s unbelievable. There is no plumbing or sewage
system, so people resort to using flying toilets. What are these thrifty
contraptions? Well, because there are no toilets or latrines available, people
put their waste into plastic bags. Keeping bags full of human waste in one’s
home isn’t the most appealing idea, so people in Kibera toss these bags into whichever
open areas they can find when no one is looking—hence the name “flying
toilets”. One of the main problems
with this “solution” is that the bags are tossed near water pipes that bring drinking
water into the slums. These old, rusty pipes often develop holes and
leaks. As a result, waste from the
plastic bags seeps into the pipes and people end up drinking contaminated water
because it is the only source available to them. That is why diarrhea and other
gastrointestinal diseases are so rampant in Kibera. It’s a serious problem that
NGOs are trying to resolve.
The main purpose of our trip to Kibera was to learn about
different businesses and organizations that were started in the slums. We were
split up into four different groups, and my group went to visit the SMOLFISH
Project. This family business was started in 2001 as a hobby and later
developed as a commercial venture in weaving kikoy fabrics and canvas. They
have worked with various groups to teach individuals how to weave. What I found
most interesting was that they train prison officers for about a year on how to
make the fabric from start to finish. Then these officers go back to their
prisons and teach inmates how to weave so that they can practice this trade
once they are released. We were
given a brief introduction on how these kikoys are made, and I even got a
chance to use the loom! I regret
to inform you that there is no photo evidence, only fond memories.
At one point the man leading our tour, who also happened to
be the founder of the organization, left briefly to go “pick up something”. When
he came back he was HOLDING A BABY. The cutest little 1 year old was resting in
his arms with her head on his chest. Turns out he’s a father—who knew?! We
asked him how many other children he has and he said he didn’t know. Apparently he has multiple wives and
multiple children, but he can’t keep count. When he saw the shock on our faces,
he responded, “I don’t know how many children I have. Women come up to me. They
say ‘this is your child’ and you either believe them or you don’t”. What a
character! He told us that he would make each of us a special gift and deliver
it to our compound later this week. We’ll see if he actually follows through
with his promise.
Don’t worry Mom—I did
get a chance to hold the baby and she didn’t cry. She actually fell asleep in
my lap. Maybe I won’t be such a horrible mother after all.
Over the weekend I hung out with my host family. On Sunday
my sister wasn’t feeling well so we stayed home and watched Glee as mentioned earlier. On Sunday, my
brother drove us to the National Park and we went on a nature walk to see all
of the animals. There were lions, tigers, but sadly no bears. There were,
however baboons that roamed around freely. It was pretty cool interacting with
baboons as if they were squirrels. Afterward, my sister and I met up with my
mom at the local club for lunch. Then we went to visit my mother’s sisters who
live only a few minutes away.
My host sister and I at the park
Last night was the second and final presidential debate
before the general election on March 4th. I had planned on working
on my papers all night, but who can pass up such a monumental event? This was only
the second presidential debate in Kenyan history! So to celebrate this historic
occasion, my father cracked open a box of wine. It was “special” wine from
South Africa. I’m not sure whether the wine was for celebrating or maintaining
our blood pressure while we watched the candidates deliver empty promises, but
we had a good time. That box of wine
may or may not have been finished by the time I went to bed. It was definitely
one of the best nights I’ve had so far. My host parents and I had such a fun
time laughing at candidates like Mohamed Abduba Dida, the teacher from who-knows-where
who has never pursued a position in politics before. My mother cheered for
Uhuru Kenyatta, “her man” as my father refers to him. My host father and I rooted
for Peter Kenneth, the articulate, well-educated candidate from the Eagle
Coalition whom everyone likes but refuses to vote for because it’s his first
time running for president.
I am anxiously waiting to see what will happen next Monday.
My prediction is that there will be a run-off because Kenyatta and Odinga are
neck-in-neck. If that happens, my fingers are crossed that no violence will
break out as tensions run high leading up to the second vote. Whatever the
case, we will be safely residing in Tanzania starting this Saturday. My visa is
good for 90 days, so if worst comes to worst I will not have to return to Kenya
for some time.
To all of my friends and family: I am safe. I am happy. And
I never want to leave Kenya. Someone will have to drag me out of here come May.
Cheers to a peaceful election!
Kwaheri ya kuonana!
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