Year End Clearance

I know a clearance is normally after the holidays, but I'm doing mine now.  So this will be a bunch of odds and ends I wanted to pass along and forgot about.

Whenever I am in Nairobi at the ghetto hotel, I walk past this gate and have a chuckle.  So last time I took a pic to share with you.  Wonder how someone lets them know they are outside, hmmm?

The nearest shopping mecca for me is Eldorett, which means Nakumatt.  I usually make the trek there every month.  Last visit, I wanted to have lunch at the newly opened pizza parlor next to Nakumatt.  They also serve pasta to order and chinese food to order--go figure.  The pizza is a treat but the thing I like best is real brewed ice tea with real ice cubes.  Yummy.  Sony also had put up a display truck hawking there stereos and had a couple of characters strolling the parking lot to drag over business.

These two guys were lots of fun and once we took our 'snap' everyone else wanted a snap too.

There are a couple of hotelis (restaurants) in Kabarnet where I will go for lunch.  They are owned by the same person.  I prefer Sportsline (no clue why it's called that) because the samosas are better there.  They actually have a sink where you can wash your hands instead of a pitcher or can of water.

I guess the sign works because I have never seen anyone spit.

Back on my compound there was a bit of drama a couple of weeks ago at 2:30am.  One of Mama Rhoda's sons came home and started beating his wife and children.  She was screaming, yelling, the babies were crying, pots, pans and dishes being thrown outside, Sukari barking like a crazy hound and no one did anything.  Remember I live next to the police compound and the deputy is my neighbor! It actually scared me because he didn't seem to be drunk.  I did mention the incident to the other son recently and told him if it happened again, I would be leaving because I would not feel safe here. Well, now the wife and baby are gone.  Mama Rhoda 'chased them away' because of the incident.  The woman always gets blamed in a domestic situation, huh.

This is the sweet six month old girl that was slapped.  I hope they are somewhere safe now.

Another baby cow was born on the compound a month ago and Sukari desperately wants to play with her.  In the beginning the cow feared Sukari but now just butts her in the head.

Also on the compound is a houseboy named Eric.  A really sweet 16 year old orphan. He is a total slave here.  Milking and pasturing the cows, doing laundry, cleaning the houses, cleaning the compound, watching the children, cooking all meals, doing dishes and this is seven days a week.  He left for the holidays a week ago for three weeks.  Then just this morning he was back.  He told me Mama Rhoda changed her mind about his vacation and ordered him back here or he would lose his job.  He would be 'chased away.'  He was crying and very sad.  He had gone to visit one of his brothers that he had managed to locate after 8 years.  He asked me to help him find another position.  You better believe I'm on it.  He is so abused here.

I will usually ask Eric to help me with cleaning and laundry just so I can give him some money.

For Thanksgiving I had no real plans to go anywhere.  Other peeps were heading to the coast and I didn't want to make the trek.  In talking to my pal Madame Roseline, she insisted we return to Lake Bogoria to celebrate the american holiday and also do some work brainstorming.  I'm in.

Her phone is permanently attached to her ear but she can certainly multitask.

Last time I went with her to the lake, we never actually went to the lake per se, just to the 'spa' near the lake.  So this time she was determined we would go see the hot springs and pink flamingos.  We decided to go later in the afternoon when it would not be so hot as the sun would be setting.

It really is beautiful and I was enthralled with this mating ritual of the flamingos.  They literally form lines and strut across the water passing each member of the other flock and moving on.

We drove on the see the hot springs and it was sad to see all the rubbish everywhere. There really aren't springs or geysers but just bubbling eddys in an area just off the shore of the lake.  It's hot though, with steam rising and blowing.  The locals like to stand in the steamy area and breath in the mist because they think it is healing.  Waaaaaay too hot and stinky for me.

As we headed out of the lake park area, the sun was beginning to set and colors were amazing.  I can only imagine what the picture would be like if I had a better camera.  The little pink bodies were so bright reflecting in the water that it is hard to separate them from it.

I was glad I got to see them but am not surprised the park was mainly empty--it's expensive to go there for the locals.

Roseline and I did discuss some business and created a plan to develop a demonstration garden on the plot near her office for her HIV groups to plant healthy foods.  I agreed to help and also teach some cooking classes if she would plant non traditional veggies like okra, spinach, broccoli and melons.  So we put out the word and had our first planning meeting with the groups.

I was amazed that about 50 people showed.  We divided the garden spaces and I talked to them about preparing the soil and maintaining a weedless plot.  We resumed the next week to begin to plant.

I was impressed with their hard work clearing the area of overgrown bush and weeds.  They had really paid attention!

There was still one remaining stubbon stump that this man managed to remove by the end of the day with his panga.

Roseline had installed a water tank to be used for the garden and I stressed the need to moisten the soil well before planting the seeds. On the end of the hose is a gizmo akin to what you would use to put oil in your car.

So now it is all planted and I will show you how the garden grows in the near future.

Soon my baby girl Stephanie will return for another trek thru Kenya with me.  This time we will actually have more time at my site than on her last visit.  So in preparation Steph, here is your daytime bathroom.  I will make sure you have plenty of tp and wet wipes.

And here is your night time bathroom.  This is because there is no light on the compound, there are critters outside and the rocks are slippery.  So start practicing your squats and holding your breath.  And if you get the trots at night--well you're on your own.

I thought about doing a thorough cleaning in my house but decided you needed the REAL Peace Corps experience.  So along with the bucket bath and washing your clothes by hand, you can clean the floors on  your knees and haul and purify water.  Woohoo!

So I'm heading out in the morning for the Christmas holiday in Lamu and then all the way cross country to Lake Victoria and Rusinga Island for new years.  Sukari and I wish you a very blessed season full of family, friends and love.

And when you say your Christmas prayers, whisper one for my sweet boy Cognac who is really struggling now.  He is 14 and really failing rapidly.  My Christmas wish is that he will hold on till I return. But only God has that answer.  Sure miss his sloppy kisses and happy tail.

Home Ain't What It Used To Be

I'm penning this from Nairobi where I will be seeing the drive-thru dentist in the morning for a root canal on that troublesome tooth.  I call him that because he can do an exam and cleaning in 30 minutes flat! When PCVs come to Nairobi we are booked at the government rate at the Kenyan Continental Hotel.  It's in a decent part of town, has free wifi and hot water.  Those are the good things.  The flip side is that it is a ghetto hotel, no screens on the windows or bars.  I like to stay in the 'new wing' where the rooms are bigger and you get a chair in your room.  Not supposed to stay on this wing though because one time a PCV came back to her room to find a couple of workers 'gettin it on' in her bed in the middle of the day.  Whatever.  We are in Kenya. We often have lots of other peeps here to keep us company as they traverse from other areas to the PC office on business or just passing through on a vaca.  We often put out alerts looking to share a room on the PC dime.  It's not uncommon to have five peeps in a room with a mattress pulled off the bed or sleeping in purloined chairs to bed down for free.  We are cheap!  Did I really say that?  One of the unique things about the rooms is the cleaning. Think wish and a prayer and god forbid if they wipe the zillion dead mosquitos off the walls that we have squished on our visits.  They must be trophys!

Anyhoo, this missive is about my burning yen to take Sukari to visit MaMa in Maralal.  Ever since I left there in January, I have been dreaming about a doggie reunion and a chance to see Father Jorge again.  But a two day, 18 hour matatu trip was out of the question.  I needed a free lift.

I got that opportunity when my friend Maggie called to say some people she knew were coming to Kenya to scout out a location to do a reforestation project.  They thought the arid lands around Maralal would be ideal and needed a scout with connections.  I'm in.  They agreed to my terms which included taking Sukari and getting us back to Kabarnet three days later by non matatu transport.

I met them at a local Kabarnet hotel where they had hired an uptown matatu (think clean, cushioned seats and knowledgeable driver) which had brought them from Nairobi and would squire them on their trek.  They were a family of four, Jewish, vegan, formerly from the US, now living in India, alternative lifestyles and had done projects like this in India and Haiti.  They also had their business manager along to assess the situation--a nice Indian gal from Dallas. I KNEW this was going to be an interesting ride!

We were an hour late leaving since they needed to eat their breakfast in and out of the matatu.  Imagine a clan with a 4 and 12 year old girls, noshing avocados and watermelon without implements.  Quite a sight.
Picture what you would look like after a food fight and you get the picture.

And we're off.  Chatting them up along the way, I ask how they managed to arrange a month off from school.  Well.  They don't go to school--they are 'unschooled' which means they believe in learning from life experiences.  When the child feels the need to learn, say math or science, in greater depth then they will teach them.  This 'openness' also applies to discipline.  There isn't any.  Children can do as they please as long as it is not harmful to another.  But, that harm doesn't include rudeness, inconsideration or bad manners.  Because these things are not harmful.  Okaaaaaaaaaay.  Holy Jesus, Mary and Joseph!

An hour into the trip I began to feel like I had hitched a ride on the 'Little Miss Sunshine" bus with the 'Fockers" enroute to 'Woodstock'.  AND, I had arranged for them to stay with me at my old house on Father Jorge's Catholic compound?  Whoooooooooa.  This sounds like a movie, right?

Sukari didn't mind the people but she was not digging the long matatu trip.  He longest ride as a big girl was 5km to our house each day in a taxi.  So she hurled constantly,  Everyone was cool about it and we would stop when she did to take a piece of paper and scoop out the upchuck and proceed.  What should have taken 4.5 hours took 9.  We had to stop for everything, including a few 'family conferences' when one of the kids had a temper tantrum (yep, the 12 y/o) and they would chat it out.  Excuuuuse me. 

By the time we arrived after dark, I was ready to kill someone.  We arrived at Father Jorge's compound and I rattled the gate for the watchman to open up.  My head was swirling with excited thoughts of how Sukari would sniff MaMa, tail wagging and they would be off running as MaMa wagged her tail with joy to see her baby girl again and show her around her former home.  But just in case, I kept Sukari on her leash.

The watchman was opening the gate with MaMa on her leash and I called to her.  She was over the moon with excitement at the sound of my voice.  I went inside first, alone, to give her some love.  When I had wiped the doggy kisses off my face and dirt off my clothes from her tackle, I went to get Sukari.  She had smelled MaMa, knew who she was and was whining and wagging her tail with joy.  I led her inside for the nose-to-nose  and then all hell broke loose.  When I would touch Sukari, MaMa would growl, bark and try to nip her.  Not a good thing.  Okay.  Leashes will stay on for a while longer.

We got settled in my house after kisses and hugs from Father.  Immediately upon entering, the 4 y/o strips naked and proceeds to go about moseying around. She decided that it was time for some watermelon.  So her mom cut one from their food storage in half, put it on the table and the two kids dove in.  With their hands!  No slicing, no utensils.  Just take that paw and grab a big hunk and nosh on it. Or better yet, put your whole face in it. It was like watching sharks at a feeding frenzy!  Soon seeds, juice, and rinds covered the table and floor. I mentioned to the 12 y/o that she should wipe up the table and floor or we would have a colony of ants feasting in the morning.  I got a hairy eyeball look and then she called "Mama."  Who came and cleaned up all the mess.  You gotta be kidding me!  Then Mom stated that it was time for a shower and the temper tantrums began.  By both girls.  The whole family retreated to the tiny 4X6 bathroom, closed the door and held a family conference in private.  The end result being Mom agreed to give the girls a bucket bath.  This meant they would stand in the shower area while Mom would splash buckets of water on their soapy bodies.  Conclusion?  The whole bathroom was flooded and I needed a shower.  I asked the 12 y/o to wipe up the floor so I could have some dry space and once again got that 'piss off' look.  Well. I'm pissed now.  So I picked up HER towel and wiped up the floor with it, handed the soppy towel back to her and closed the door in her face. Brat!

Thankfully they had meetings with my contacts each day scouting land so I had the days free to visit my peeps, play with MaMa and chat up Father Jorge.  Sukari loved roaming a huge compound fancy free.  I knew when she went to visit MaMa, who was kept on her leash, because I would hear the barking and growling.  Sukari gets high marks for trying.  MaMa was just way too jealous to befriend her.  I'm sure Sukari had a few heart pangs because once I caught her sitting a leash distance away from MaMa just looking at her while wagging her tail.  I bet she was thinking 'what happened to all the motherly love?' and wishing it could be different.  One visit I made to MaMa with Sukari, MaMa managed to get free of her leash and bounded after Sukari.  Sukari immediately went into the submissive position, MaMa sniffed and then started to growl.  Not a menacing 'I'm gonna bite you growl' but a warning growl.  I called to her and she immediately stopped and came over to be with me.  I put her back on her leash in her doghouse.  I don't think she would have bitten Sukari but I wasn't going to test it knowing there is no vet that treats dogs in Maralal.  Camels and cows, yep. Dogs, not so much.

One evening I went out to dinner with my pals in Maralal and left Sukari at home alone.  When the 'Fockers' returned (they told me this later), Sukari wanted to go outside but they were proud to say they didn't let her. Sukari would stand at the door and bark but they did not let her go out.  Of course this was 'distressing' to Sukari.  So the Mom decided Sukari needed something for anxiety.  She reached into her medicine bag (did I mention they practice herbal medicine?) and dissolved a pill into her water.  Then tried to get her to drink it but she just barked at them and wouldn't.  Upon hearing this story, I explained that Sukari has been trained not to eat or drink anything if home alone so she wont have to toilet in the house.  BUT, when I come home she can go outside to take care of business and that was why she acted the way she did. 'Oh.'  Duh!!!!

After 4 days with the wackadoodles, Sukari and I needed to escape so I told them to arrange my transport back to Kabarnet.  They were going to stay till Sunday and I needed to get back, PLUS I am nearly insane now anyway.  So their driver went to town and hired a local with a nice car.  But he couldn't leave that day because to make a long trip, he needed to get the starter fixed.  Yep, that would be a good thing.  So we headed out in his nice station wagon on Friday morning.  Sukari had constant anxiety drool but no barfing.  Guess she is a seasoned traveler now.  By the time we arrived at Marigat after 4 hours on dusty ravine roads and found the tarmac once again, this car is now a POS.  There are rattles everywhere and the wheels sound and feel like they will fall off the car.  We stop several times for him to haul out the lug wrench and tighten them up.  Doesn't do any good because the alignment is shot.  He asks about a garage in Kabarnet for realignment the next day.  We drove the last 60km at 30km/hr for fear the car would lose control.  Painful!!!

So we were happy to be back home again.  The 'Fockers' found  some land for a site.  And, I have seen enough of a four year old's vagina to last a lifetime, and sparred with an illiterate pre-teen enough to never want to be around another one.  And Sukari?  At least she got to see and sniff MaMa even if they didn't romp in the grass together.  Maybe in her dreams she can do that.

African Oasis

A big shout out to my new Peace Corps pal, Andrea, who hooked me up with this mini vaca a couple of weeks ago.  Her boss  who runs MwAfrica, an HIV/AIDS group funded by the Elizabeth Glaser Foundation, was having a meeting at the Lake Bogoria Resort.  I had bonded with Madame Rosealine and was asked to be their guest.  I have been trying to get there myself.  It is only 20km from my site by one way matatu.  And that's the problem.  You can get there easily but you can't get out.  Which wouldn't be so bad if you could stay forever, but otherwise you have to hire a driver to get back to wherever or the matatu stage.

We hired a matatu both ways for the trip down the mountain to the super hot town of Marigat which rests between the two mountain ranges to arrive at the Lake Bogoria Spa Resort.

I got really excited when I saw "spa" and am thinking massage.  No such luck.  It only meant that one of the pools was a hot pool fed by natural hot springs.  The resort is owned by the former Kenyan President Moi and he will soon own the nearby Lake Boringo Resort.  Who said politics won't make you rich.

As far as resorts go, it wouldn't qualify.  Unless, you consider the 'amenities' of large grounds with grazing, native animals, two pools and two restaurants.

Greeting our arrival were the native storks that have built their nests in the massive acacia tree that towers over the entrance.

They are relatively quiet as they go about their construction and you really are only aware of them as you hear the swoosh of their wings and feel the wind draft as they pass.  They are extremely agile for such a massive bird.  At first I thought they were cranes.  But up close, you are awed by their size, standing over 4' tall.

They preferred the cold water pool to fill their long gullet with refreshment for the babies.

Yep.  This is Kenya and the cold water pool.  It really wasn't cold but just right for swimming in the heat.  As you can see, most Kenyans like the hot water so I had this one all to myself.  Actually, there were few Kenyans there, mostly Asian and German tourists.  It was funny to see the look on their faces when tasting ugali.  They didn't like it either.

The resort has been updated over the years to have hot water and air conditioning but still resembles a Holiday Inn.  We were told the entire resort will be leveled in the new year to make a truly modern jewel.There was no shower but a massive 6' bathtub that I thoroughly enjoyed.  Must have been a keepsake from the colonial era.  I filled that tank and laid back in warm water not even touching end to end. Aaaaah!

Two restaurants is really a misnomer.  One was cafe style and served only breakfast.  Where undoubtedly you would be accosted by the colobus monkeys stealing the food right off your plate!  They were a nuisance and the waiters kept sticks at hand to shoo them.

This thief is enjoying his fruit.  Of course the tourists are to blame because they liberally toss food to them.

Strolling the grounds are a pair of ostrich that don't seem to mind people or even the monkeys.

Overall the food was quite good.  It was nice to have a variety but especially cucumbers.  Oh how I have missed them.  Even fresh tilapia was a tasty treat.

About 5km down the road from the resort is the actual Lake Bogoria, but we never saw it as we had no wheels.  I understand it is quite a site with geysers and hot springs.  Next time.

The two days went waaaaaay too fast but long enough to get a mini tan and unwind.  On the way home we had to make a highway stop to let some travelers pass.

These camels were coming from Somalia, as most do, and they really don't like vehicles.  They will run for the hills if you don't stop and turn off your engine.

After my horrific prior week with my tooth and stitches, I needed this.  Thanks Andrea.

It's My 'Pity Party'

Nope. Definitely not your ordinary day.  I woke with the sunrise from a fitful sleep on the fourth day of my wicked toothache. Definitely worse today. I had a root canal and crown on this tooth before I left the states so I knew this had to be a gum/bone issue.  It feels like someone is trying to pull out the tooth excruciatingly slow.  Even touching it with my tongue hurts. So I dress, have a few cups of coffee and head out with Sukari to my usual four hours of solitaire while waiting for a call back from PC medical office.  After a bit 'Dr. Lisa' calls and sends me to the local chemist to get some azithromycin. I get three tablets for $4 and buy a sprite at a duka to wash one down.  While I'm on the street, I decide to get some beef from the butcher and bones for my girl.  The new PC kid in town, Andrea, wants to make some burgers with me.

As I stroll back to work with thoughts of how this medicine better cure my problem, I remember that I have another problem--hakuna maji. Yep. we've been cut off again and its been two weeks. My emergency supply of water is almost gone. So I decide to go fetch after work at 1.

Even though my head is banging, I remember the three days of dirty dishes on my counter and we hop in my favorite cab, Kim, and I tell him we are going to my house to get my jeri cans and go fetch.  I leave Sukari for her afternoon nap and lug my three cans into the back of his hatchback cab for the short trip to the water treatment plant.  I had been told that you could get water here cheap and it is much closer to my house.  We creep slowly up the dirt, rocky road and back up to the water tower.  We're trying to figure out how to turn on the hose as big as a firehose, when a man comes running from the office wiping his lunch off his face.  He climbs up the tall metal ladder and turns on the hose.  We fill my cans, load them back up, I pay my 5 shillings for my khaki colored water and we creep back down the rocky road so we don't flip over the cans in the back of Kim's hatchback cab.  One of them doesn't have a cap on it.

We arrive at the top of the hill by my house, I hear Sukari barking (she knows the sound of Kim's rickety taxi), Kim gets his trusty stick to prop the hatchback up and we both reach inside to haul out the jeri cans.  Then, the stick breaks. And down comes the hatchback right on my head.  Whack!  I swear I really saw stars. I limped a few steps to a tree and leaned against it to clear my head.  Then I felt something on my neck.  I wiped with my hand and blood was everywhere. I called "Kim" and he turned to me and the whites of his eyes were huuuuuuuuuuge.  He said "we go to district hospital sasa!" and reached inside his car to hand me a muddy blue rag he uses to wipe the dew off the windshield. I pressed it to my head and it was quickly becoming soaked.  The local houseboy was outside with the cows and with a terror stricken face managed to utter that he would take the water to my house,  The Mamas and kids playing in the yard were starting to run over to me as we hopped in the taxi and sped down the road.  I've never knew Kim to drive so fast.

As Kim, deathly silent. dodged the car eating potholes and beeped at the people walking on the road, I was wondering what a "district" hospital would be like? I had never been there but heard that it was a big place and could handle anything.

Well, it is bigger than most other places I've seen, except the REAL hospital in Nairobi where I had my leg surgery. I wish I could have taken pictures to show you.  But, with one hand carrying my purse and the other holding the rag to my head, it wasn't gonna happen.  So I'll try to give you some kodak moments in words.

It's a white rectangular building the size of maybe three decent sized medical offices in the states.  We pass through the waiting/reception area--six long wooden picnic table style benches on each side, no lights, blood/dirt stained floor and empty.  We head down a short hallway, Kim leading me like a frightened puppy, to a room marked treatment area.  Inside is a desk with two female students checking each others blood pressure.  When they see the blood on me they jump up and lead me to another room marked 'emergency.'  Inside is a open bay style room, long six foot metal sink, one exam table and two other patients seated on plastic chairs.  One is an elderly man with bloody dripping gauze over his finger dripping into a plastic bowl on the floor,  which looks completely severed.  The other is a young girl with a cut hand being attended by a lady.

My two nursing attendants usher me to my own plastic chair and this young lad (I think he's no more than 18) swaggers over to look at me.  I know there is a doctors strike on and he says he is a medical assistant.  He is dressed to impress.  Suit jacket with sleeves folded up to the elbow, shirts sleeves carefully folded over the jacket arms with sparkling gold cufflinks twinkling, crisply ironed khaki slacks and shoes buffed like mirrors. Hot stuff! He peeks at my head and says I will need stitches.  I ask him to clean the wound so I can take a peek at it.  He says to Kim that he doesn't have any sterile gloves and if I want them, we have to go buy them (Im wondering if the guy with the severed finger bought his?) and Kim rushes out to buy gloves down the hall.

Back with the gloves, he dons them, grabs a bottle of saline solution and then is looking around for gauze.  He starts to grab a bloody piece from the plastic bowl on the floor and I tell him I will buy gauze.  He opens a cabinet for a new package, tells me to hang my head over the bloody bowl on the floor while he pours the saline on my head, trying to guide the flow with a gauze pad.  Once dabbed, I head to the mirror over the sink to look.  I can't see it very well because there is no light on, but it seems to be about six inches long with a one inch section at the end still globbing blood.  So I agree to let him stitch it.

I ask if he will use a local and he shows me a bottle.  He says he needs to shave the area and asks for a scalpel.  The assistant comes back with a sterile packet, rips it open to reveal half a razor blade. I'm thinking 'holy shit.'  He starts to scrape away with this half a blade and then his cell phone rings.  He steps away from me, the assistant reaches in his pocket for the phone and puts it to his ear.  Only in Kenya right?  He has a two minute conversation and then returns to shaving my head area.  He calls for a syringe and I see a six inch needle on a tiny tube and know this is gonna hurt.  He jabs my head with it as I'm bending over this bloody bowl on the floor when the tears start silently rolling down my face.  A truly "WTF am I doing here?" moment.  Then he calls for 'suture' and a mega ball of nylon string appears, he snips a piece easily five feet long, and I see the curling mass dangle out of the corner of my eye.  I swear this stuff should be on the end of a fishing rod, NOT going into my scalp! He pokes it thru my skin and hits the area with no local and I wince. I know I'm gonna have a bugger of a headache later that may rival my toothache.  A big squirt of betadine after the two stitches, a clump of gauze, and three mega strips of white tape and I'm done.

We go back to the first treatment room where he borrows my pen to make chart notes on a piece of paper retrieved from the trash can. I tell him I've had a tetanus, have pain drugs at home and just started antibiotics in the am.  Kim meanwhile, is still at my side like a faithful puppy and is offering to pay but says he will have to bring the money next week because he doesn't have it now.  I insist that I will pay, tell him I have insurance and fork over 500 shillings ($6) and we are headed back to the taxi.

On the taxi ride home, Kim is stoically apologetic.  I know he thinks he just lost his best customer and I'm wondering if the muzungu at the hospital has spread through the grapevine yet.  Once home I know the answer.  Everyone is sitting on the front stoop and come to greet me with 'so sorry, pole, pole.'  Sukari sees the big bandage on my head and just wants to sniff it and cuddle up next to me.  Once inside I settle into my big uncomfortable chair and have a good cry.  After a few minutes of pity party, I remind myself I just had two hours of this and the average Kenyan deals with it every day!!!  So I snap the elastic on my big girl panties and go in search of pain drugs.

Crap. No where to be found.  I just knew I had a stash and tore up everything in the hunt.  No luck.  I chomped down some more tylenol, tried to eat a banana but my tooth would not allow it.  Between my toothache and stitches on the same side of my head, I now felt like I had a tomahawk stuck in my scalp.  I needed to get my mind off it so I decided to wash my dirty dishes and do some laundry.  When I looked at that khaki colored water again--no deal.  So I hit the biggest container with a purifier.  Didn't even make a dent.  So I doused it again and it cleared enough to at least not stain my clothes but no way was I going to wash my dishes with that!  I filled my clothes line and then back to my chair to think of what to do next for a distraction.  MY HEAD IS KILLING ME!  If I had a pair of plyers I swear I would yank that tooth out of my head as I think it is the biggest problem.

I feed Sukari, play toss with her for a bit, wash my face and then decide that if I take a sleeping pill that might at least put me out of it.  8pm I down that sucker and crawl into bed.   It kinda worked.  At least I got another fitful night.

Back up at sunrise and another call to medical for pain drugs.  I do some more laundry to bide my time till the chemist opens and the phone calls start.  Word is all over town.  Everyone from my office is calling.  And of course, Kenyans don't have phone conversations.  They ask how you are, you answer, they hang up.  No goodbye.  That means they are coming over.  Sure enough by 9am I have two visitors that stay till noon.  I am so miserable I could cry again.  I want my drugs!!  Andrea calls and I ask her to be my delivery gal.  My two guests leave and I go to get in bed and another two people come to visit.  Dear God--I think I'll go insane!!  Fortunately they don't stay long.

Andrea arrives with my drugs, helps me shave the rest of my head with my clippers, remakes my top bunk for me with the clean sheets and another visitor arrives.  At least now I've had my drugs so I'm okay.  After a short visit and a very looooooooooooong prayer for my speedy recovery, Andrea and I ground up that beef and made our burgers.

After she left, I had just enough clean water left to wash my skanky body and the dishes.  I did manage to eat a big bowl of rice and now am ready for my bed.  I took a pain pill for good measure and my clean sheets will feel nice tonite.

Tomorrow when I see the people in town they will be too distracted by my frankenstein stitches to ask me if the zit on my face is a mosquito bite.  I'm grateful for the little things.  Ahhhhhhhhh, lala salama.

Tidbits

It's nice to be missed. So many of you have emailed about me being MIA on my blog so I thought I better do a quick update.  No, I have not been maimed on a matatu or washed away in the seasonal monsoon. It has just been one of those Peace Corps lulls that usually happens mid point in service.

I'm here in Nairobi for mid-service medical which begins tomorrow. It is a three day physical to be sure you have not contracted some vile disease  or parasite. Unless mine is hibernating, I feel fine having had my health adventures (fruit fly incubation, tick hibernation) earlier in my gig.

I arrived here from Kisumu (Kenya's third largest city) having been at an HIV/AIDS program for a week.  I was excited about going to Kisumu since that is the only area of Kenya yet to grace my Chaco's flip flop feet. It lies on the eastern edge of Lake Victoria and is just as dirty, noisy and crowded as Nairobi.  We stayed at a Catholic Conference Center on the outskirts of town. Remember, I told you the Catholics here have all the shillingi and this was just another example of how they get the business done.  It was a beautiful property with modern, spacious rooms and of course maji moto. I was sooooo thrilled at being able to take a hot shower--beats the hell out of my tepid bucket bath. I didn't have time to get to the lake this trip but am definitely putting it up to the top of the list.

It's quite hot there this time of year so when some of the volunteers from the area suggested a pool afternoon, I was more than ready to get my burn on. In Kenya if you want to swim, you go to a local hotel because a private pool is truly for the wealthy and rare at that.  So we headed into town and landed at the equivalent of a Day's Inn.  I don't think it would keep the light on at night.  It was surprisingly clean and crowded.  But, then it is school break so tons of kids were there.  Kenyan dress customs are mega conservative so I was agog at what people wore for swimming.  Young boys wore real speedo type suits, some men wore regular swimsuits, little tykes wore bathing suits.  But then you had everything else and what a comical mishmash.  Everything from street clothes, long pants and tee shirts to workout suits for guys.  Women also wore long pants with regular shirts.  The most comical was one woman in a full body girdle!! No kidding.  And when she hit the water everything was in full glorious wet view.  Thank God she wore big girl panties underneath cause on her humongous body that would have been a scary sight.  We saw leggings under body suits with oversized shirts on top.  Nursing babies were just buck naked being dipped by Mama in the kiddie pool.  I really wanted to take a few pics but thought it would be too obvious, so I didn't.  Of course the naked muzungus were center stage.  At least we seemed naked in our bikinis, lathered with sunscreen lying prone on the plastic chaises.  Totally worth it though and we even did a repeat the next day.  Sure gonna miss being able to basque in the sun.

Meanwhile, back in Kabarnet--I'm about to be homeless, maybe.  My organization was hand delivered an eviction letter for me for 1 Sept if they do not pay my rent on time.  They were 8 weeks late before. I can't believe they will come up with the money as they are circling the drain.  So plans are in the works to find someone else there to sponsor me or guess I'll move on down the road--again.  I've let it be known that I wouldn't mind going back to Maralal if I could work/live with Father Jorge on his compound.  Even though it is in the boonies, I loved being there and Sukari would get to spend some time with her MaMa.

Speaking of my little girl...

Here she is celebrating her first birthday with a bone for breakfast.  Still sweet as ever.

We had another birthday on my compound a few weeks back.

Here mother and daughter are eyeing each other for the first time.  It's amazing how the calf pops right out and then stands up! No, I didn't watch her being born--too gross for me. Sukari loved to chase her out of our front yard but now that heifer is brave and just stands her ground and glares.

But mostly it's just been raining--ever since 4 April , every day.

 Here comes another one.  Some of the storms have had hail that lasted for an hour or more.  And it's cold! I sit bundled in my sleeping bag.  Hopefully it will be all over when I return home later this week.  Then I won't have to dodge my laundry hanging on every available spot inside for days at a time drying.

I'm really missing my friend and traveling buddy, Dutch.  She returned home to Colorado.  She was evacuated from Mombasa a few weeks back after a bombing incident there.  No suitable alternate site could be arranged for her.  Guess my return to Lamu will have to be solo. Or maybe it's time to head to South Africa for a winery tour, hmmmm.

Aaaaah Lamu...

Lamu is an old island Arabic trading town dating back to the 2nd century A.D. Only 37 miles from the Somali border, it is hardly an idyllic oasis.  With a hair more than 20,000 people, over 6,000 donkeys and 2 vehicles, it does have its charms if you can look past the gazillion flies and mounds of donkey poop.  You can walk from one end to the other casually in under 45 minutes.

You fly into the newly renovated Manda Airstrip and then take a short 10 minute boat to Lamu.

                         On arrival your hotel arranges for a boat to whisk you over to the island.

We were visiting at low season which was good because it was not crowded or exceedingly hot.  Bad because most of the restaurants were closed and tourists meager.  Sooooo, we got hit up by every boatman trying to make a few shillings in a slow period.

We stayed at Lamu House, situated right on the water with a splendid balcony to view all the happenings day and night.  The is a renovation of two former houses by a spanish architect who captured the Swahili nuances perfectly, especially the windows that snatch the breeze from the ocean to ventilate each room.

               This is a bedroom window, of which there were six on one wall, each with a unique view.

                  Even the breezeways provided gentle air flow while blocking the heat of the sun.

Most Swahili style homes are two or three stories with courtyards in the center having a pool or water feature. In the old days this water was stored to be used for cooking, washing  or bathing.  Our pool area was surrounded by a dining area for perfect al fresco dining and star gazing.

Even here, the architect made sure you could capture the view and breeze by positioning windows with interesting views along the sheltered wall.

The rooms were spacious, traditionally decorated and had awesome bathrooms.  We had a double shower so powerful it actually blew off the head.  Though I think it may have been a bit loose anyway.  Solar panels on the roof provided constant hot water on demand.  Every room had a view of interest and the balcony was our favorite perch in the late evening or early morning.

            And the sights were quite tranquil.  Boys walking home from school in late afternoon.

                                School girls pooling their change to buy a sweet treat on the way home. Some of the best I have ever tasted from street vendors: buttery shortbread cookies and drippy molten peanut brittle.

                                   A fish monger heading home after selling her catch for the day.

              Donkeys hard at work hauling sand for the new jetty or to make cement for a new home.

You could probably see the whole place in a couple of days--if you could find your way among the maze of alleys that meander from coast to sand dunes.  Forget about signage. You eventually have to ask for help to find your way back and of course pay for the assistance too.

                              A typical alleyway with dukas on both sides of the sandy walkway.

This shop sells the wooden serving plates hanging on the wall.  The moon and star are emblematic of Lamu.  He collected broken plates and dishes and melded them into the doorway concrete.

Though many shops, restaurants and hotels were closed for May/June, there were enough open for us to find interesting beadwork necklaces, leather handbags and beaded wallhangings.

In this shop, everything was for sale, even the chairs and tables made by local craftsmen. We spent an eon here just looking at all the talented workmanship.

             You could buy this beaded wall hanging or have them design one to your color palette.

                          Even the art on the walls had a price.  This is a bit tortured for my taste.

Since I live in the mountains and exist on beef and goat, I was famished for fresh seafood.  Even in low season, the options are endless.  Fish still swim and jump on a hook, right?  We tried a few lower end spots and had tasty barracuda, a new one for me.  Then found a more upscale spot in the heart of the coastline with amazing fresh tuna on the salad nicoise.

                But gimme some shellfish!!! This was the biggest scampi I know I have ever seen. And the lobster I know still had a pulse as it lay prone on the plate.  I didn't bother with the taters though Dutchess said they were yummy with fresh parsley sprinkled on top.

One of the real charms of Lamu is a sail on a dhow.  We negotiated for a day trip over to Manda.  These boats are all crafted by the owners.  And I mean crafted not in a good way.  Our crew was bailing water before we even pushed off!  Every available, usable piece of wood, nail, cloth, tin can or bucket is put to use on these vessels.  They must spend hours each day just patching things so it will still sail.

So the crew carries us aboard as it is low tide.  With our new Aussie friend Mark, we head out in the early morn to catch the wind around Lamu, view Shela on the other end of the island, and stop for a freshly prepared catch and swim off Manda Island before heading home in the afternoon.

A view of Lamu from our dhow.  The water looks bluer than it really is, but it's a warm day, nice breeze and the water is the perfect temp for a swim.

Every dhow seems to have the Captain's mantra somewhere.  Love this one. I definitely need a mind beast for a weapon, right?

The crew set about grilling our fresh perch, steamed rice, stewed veggies and tomato salad.  We also had a whopping fruit plate of mangoes, oranges, and bananas under a palm hut while they cleaned up afterward.

Looks like a storm is coming, so we packed up and prepared to swim back out to the dhow and sail home.

Sailing into the setting sun with the wind at our back, the crew started singing a few local tunes to entertain us on the wind.  And of course maybe earn a tip as well.

Back ashore we left the storm on the other side of the isle but the rainbow welcomed us home with the incoming tide to moor the boats in place for the evening.

I will remember walking below the fortress that was the main protectorate centuries ago and wondering what the view must be like from up in that tiny window.

And imagining the noise as hawkers sold their fruits and vegetable in the market square long ago.  Now mainly deserted save for a few mamas selling fruit juice freshly mashed on the spot.

I will remember watching the dhows hoist their homemade sails to catch the wind for a tranquil sail.  So quietly it happens that you don't even hear the snap of sail as it catches the breeze.

I already miss it.  So we're headed back in November for their cultural festival around our thanksgiving time.  We've already heard about the dhow races, donkey races and even goat races.  Not looking forward to all the flies and dodging piles of poop on dark, sandy paths with my flashlight in tow.  But no beach is perfect, right?