Equator sun will burn even when hidden...

Hello everyone!

I wanted to thank you guys for your great coincidence stories, it really is a crazy world!

(Also, we have two more students that arrived, randomly with no place else to stay, from U of T and OCAD in Toronto. It's like an Ontario university reunion!!!)

Just a brief update, as we have actually been quite busy this week. We have started interviewing people for Neil's research project, talking to them about their lives and how the loan that we provided will be helping them, and what they want to do with it.

Having to go through the translator, and a whole wack of questions, it does get a bit tiring, but the information we're getting is interesting, and hopefully will be really useful to Neil.

What else have we learned this week? That even if it's cloudy, we're still on the equator, and we'll still burn. Neil crashed with a small case of heat stroke on Tuesday, and I have a tan, which I didn't have on Monday.

We've also been working on the CABDA website, business cards, and brochure. It's exactly what I would have been doing at work in Toronto, so the days in the field are quite a nice mix-up.

Tomorrow is halfway done the trip, which is crazy to think about. I'm wondering if we should take a coupe days to ourselves to do some real tourist things, to break it up a bit. I'll let you know what we decide.

Tomorrow is also Neil's dad's birthday! HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!!! I hope that the move doesn't mean you can't celebrate. Eat some ice cream and think of me. I miss good ice cream. :)

I'll write again soon, with actual good information, I promise!!!

Lots of love,

Courtney

ps: I've included a photo of me working, to prove that I'm not just ignoring you all!

Random Coincidence

The strangest thing happened a couple of days ago at breakfast.

Three white girls were sitting at a table, and one got up to walk to the fruit, and had to go past our table. She had on a University of Guelph shirt, and I was so surprised that I stopped her to ask if it was the U of G in Ontario.

It was.

The three of them are second year veterinary students there, and are here to help the thesis of a University of Nairobi student.

For those of you that don't know, Guelph is a university maybe an hour from Western, where Neil and I go, and it is where my brother is going, and where Neil's mother went.

I was flabbergasted. I kept asking Neil "How many people in the world? 10 Billion? What are the odds?"

I mean, we are in the boonies here, a small town in Western Kenya described by our travel guide as having "no real reason to stay here." The sheer coincidence of the meeting is nuts.

They, however, seemed less impressed. Give them a month of seeing almost no white people, let alone fellow western Ontario university students, and then we'll see how they feel!

Lots of love,
Courtney

A weeks worth of babbling

Sorry it’s been a week since I last wrote, but it’s been busy. Sort of. Let’s work backwards.

Saturday
Neil, Ephy, her three children, and I went to Kisumu. When we went last month to buy a bunch of stationary supplies, something happened to one of the bags. We went to go ask if they still had it or if things were put back in stock, but eventually Ephy just accused the staff of theft. Needless to say it was an infuriating and fruitless trip. The man tried to convince us the problem was with our staff. He promised to start an investigation, and I asked for his card and name, assuming that if I call him every couple of days to inquire, eventually something might actually get done. I doubt it.

After this we went to the museum. It had a snake pit (most of them surprising small, all local, and all totally venomous, of course. I am rethinking plans to visit the Kakamega Forest, to be sure.), a crocodile enclosure with two large but sleepy crocodiles (I had to reassure Ephy that they could not jump high enough to get out of the cage.), a fresh water aquarium (that looked like a pet store, as Neil pointed out), a room with exhibits about the history of the people of Western Kenya that was interesting but not hugely specific (for example, they have used tools ‘since the earliest time’.), and a traditional Lua homestead, a small village looking thing, that we were all too hungry to visit, which is a shame, but I figure we see pretty close to the real thing every time we go out in the field.

We went to lunch at Mon Ami, a restaurant behind the huge supermarket that we go to for our food, as it is the only one with imported stuff that almost tastes like home. The restaurant had really great iced coffee, which was such a treat. Who could imagine missing Tim Horton’s? I’m surprised, but when you can’t get a cup of coffee to save your life, you start to miss things like that. Don’t even get me started on Starbucks. Mmmm….. frapachinos… mmmm…

Anyway, we had a good lunch there, and Ephy had a meeting right after, so Neil and I looked after the kids for an hour and a bit. (We’re turning into regular baby sitters out here.) First we went into the store to look at bathing suits (as these are the kids I’m going to be teaching to swim soon), and of course they also got distracted by the toys. It was so nice at that age, to be enthralled by something as simple as a little doll. Now you have to spend $100 on something shiny to make me happy.

We also took the kids to a (play-per-use!) playground, and they drove some cars around a track (and off the track a couple of times in the youngest one’s case), and played on swings and slides and everything. I found it ridiculously hot, but they were having a great time. Their mom called to let us know she was back, and we headed in the buy the suits for the kids, and to get groceries for Neil and I. It’s kind of expensive, since when we go we’re looking for the stuff we can’t get here in Kakamega, like sliced deli meat and cheese, butter, bacon, and that sort of thing. I figure if we only go once or twice a month, and then spend almost nothing here, getting vegetables from the market is dirt cheap, then we shouldn’t have any troubles.

After that we went home, watched ‘Erin Brokovich’ on the TV, had some potato and leek soup (from a mix, no blenders here), and went to bed. Neil’s allergies have been giving him a hard time, so I gave him to Benadryl, and he was out like a light. I envied him, as the people below us argued well into the night, and then started again around 7 am. When the rooster outside our window joined in I put in my ear plugs.

Friday, or the day we played games and realized I am 20% psychic.
I was sick again, so Neil and I took the day off. I figured it was something I ate, and just stayed in bed or the bathroom all day. Again Neil took awesome care of me, getting me ginger ale when I asked for it, and making sure I ate. There was a wicked thunderstorm that knocked out the power for over twelve hours, meaning we had to clean out our fridge on Saturday, but that was ok because it meant we could fit all the new food in.

After the rain stopped Neil went to the restaurant to drink tea and work on the computer by candle light, and I stayed in bed reading with a flashlight. That was pretty much the most productive point of the day.

Thursday
Went to work, did work things, walked home, and watched some of Season One ‘Prison Break’, which Neil bought at a DVD and tape stand, then went to bed. It was a simple day.

Wednesday, or “Play That Funky Music White Boy” night.
The American family next door left on Thursday, so on Wednesday night they invited us to dinner to thank us for watching their kids, and to a dance part at their place. I honestly don’t think there is anything I can write that will do justice to this party. The mom made chocolate chip cookies, which was awesome and Neil ate a whole bunch, since they’ve become a novelty to us (we have a stove top, but no oven, so we can’t do it ourselves, and they mostly sell biscuits here, not cookies, which is a shame.), and then they put on oldies music, and the dancing began. Well, not for the little guy, he was sleepy and just lay on the couch, only popping up to eat cookies as they were brought fresh to the coffee table.

Honestly, just watching the three adults and the daughter dance, Neil and I were exhausted. And, not going to lie, it was pretty surreal, standing in this apartment with almost strangers, eating cookies, and watching them rock out to Cyndi Lopper. And I mean ‘rock out’. There was much singing along, flailing of the arms and legs, and throwing of oneself to the floor. Think of every action possible for the song “I Will Survive”….. Picturing it? Times it by ten, and that was what we were watching. I spent most of the evening with my mouth dropped open.
We finally begged off after 11, and went right to bed, so very tired, and needing to get up for work early.

Tuesday
On Tuesday we had an unusual offer from a British Evangelical preacher. He and his wife were going back to England for two months, and offered to let us stay in their house. They took us right to see it, and it was quite nice, a big kitchen, living room, and dining room, and three bedrooms. It was located in Kelfinco Estates, which, he explained to us in a low voice, is where all the Asians live, all the shop keepers, (who are actually Indian, but for some reason have always been referred to as Asian in Kenya), and so the Estate is where all the money is. Very safe, he assured us, very nice neighborhood. And it was; it was a little subdivision, with a bunch of guards, closed gates, and high fences. Even in the ‘safe’ areas here you know you’re in a different, very violent and dangerous, country.

The man was annoying. There is no other way to put it. He had us sit down in the living room and kept talking, or as he put it, “sharing with us”. He was also a bit racist. He talked at length about the corruption at every level, and how the “Kenyans aren’t the brightest people.” Did I mention that his wife, who was now in the kitchen making him dinner, was born and raised in Kakamega? It was discouraging to learn though, that despite his being here for as long as he has, people still prefer “what is in his pocket, not what’s in his heart.” I had hoped that the endless asking for money and assuming that we can pay three times something’s worth, simply because we are white, would stop once people had gotten used to us. Apparently it never stops.

Anyway, they were willing to let us have the place for what they pay, which is less than our guesthouse. Neil was very taken with the offer; mostly I think he wanted couches that he fits it, which do not exist at the guesthouse. I suggested we not even think about it until the next day.
We discussed it over breakfast, and I listed my reasons why I didn’t want to do it. He listed his reasons why he wanted to, and then suggested we simply rent both. I listed my reasons why I didn’t want to do that either. So, we stopped talking about it until lunch, which was about the same. And then at dinner with the American family he got the men to back him up, and one of them did, but one of them sided with me. So, eventually, Neil conceded, and we’re still at the guest house.

(And if you’re wondering why I didn’t want to do it, it basically came down to the inconvenience of moving, the fact that I feel safe here, that the people know us and help us, that we get a good free breakfast every morning, that I don’t have to do any of the cleaning, and that we get new sheets on the beds every Monday night, none of which would happen in the house. I have the rest of my life to clean; I would like to take advantage of this time when I don’t have to. Plus, they give us toilet paper here, and cost of the amount we use when we’re ill probably amounts to the difference in the cost between the two places.)

Monday
I don’t remember Monday… I assume it was boring. I designed a bunch of business cards to show to Ephy for the marketing campaign we’re working on for CABDA… and that might actually be it…

Well, there you have it, a sum up of my week. I hope everyone at home is doing well!
Lots of love,
Courtney

Misadventures that weren't our fault

June 10th

Funny lines from the weekend:
Reaction of waitress to Courtney’s first Kiswahili sentence: “What?!?”
“What, haven’t you read the rough guide to Kenya yet?” Neighbour (also from Canada) Rick responding to us not knowing what he meant by going swimming.
Neil: “Something black just flew past our window.”
Courtney: “Was it a bird, or a person?”

-----

Friday night Neil and I got off work early, since CABDA closes at four. We decided to go check on our neighbour’s kid, a 9 year old girl that seemed to be having malaria type symptoms when we had talked to her father, Dorryl, a couple of nights prior. She’s doing well. However, her parents were trying to talk the two kids into going with them to visit the place that Melvin, a former street kid, used to sleep in downtown Kakamega. The kids didn’t want to go, so despite only having met the kids and mom a half hour earlier, I volunteered Neil and myself to babysit.
They took us up on our offer, and we had a pretty fun couple of hours with the kids, a 6 year old boy and the 9 year old girl. They were really quite precocious. I was startled to learn that the boy hasn’t even started grade one yet, and he was fully functional, and had a cute habit of taking everything 100% seriously, and then explaining to you why what you said was incorrect.
Their mother arrived home without Dorryl, and burst into tears as soon as she saw Wendy, who hustled her into the apartment to talk, as Neil and I tried to distract the kids with hand slapping games. (I’m sure their parent’s won’t appreciate us for that, but it seemed like the best idea at the time. And it worked. So well that we then had to change to thumb wrestling, so that the boy would stop smacking everyone so hard.)
As it turns out, the filming on the streets caused more of a commotion than was expected, and a large group of people formed in the middle of the road. I think what happened was that someone from Child Services witnessed this and called the police, who then arrested Dorryl and his crew, and attempted to arrest the mom as well. Dorryl however, firmly insisted that his wife go back to the children, that “she had done nothing wrong”, and, perhaps reacting to the masculine show of authority, allowed her to leave.
Luckily for them, Rick knows people in high places, and sent one of the more influential businessmen in Kakamega, who happens to be on the board of directors for Rick’s (and Jack and Wendy’s) organization. According to Dorryl, the whole experience was quite surreal, but he knew things would work out fine when the man that Rick sent sat down, pointed at the head policeman, and said “Oh, I saw you at the Lions meeting last week.” He was let go with no fine or bribes needed and arrived home even before the food that we ordered did.
(Here I can throw in another story about the need for those protective suits that some of you mentioned. While walking with Neil to order the food I stepped in a hole, twisted my ankle, and skinned open my right knee. I had to dab of streams of blood while Neil ordered. It’s been fun trying to keep it clean, as paranoia about where I fell convinced me of the need to pour iodine on the wound. I had forgotten exactly how much that hurts. Poor Neil had to sit beside me, trying to stop the iodine from falling onto the sofa, as I twitched around. My ankle, however, is fine.)
We ended up having supper with the family, which was really nice, especially after the kids fell asleep (both fully clothed, one on the sofa) and the ‘adults’ got to talk. He’s a photographer, and she’s a journalist, so it was really interesting to talk with them, and to learn their perspectives on the Kenyan news (which Neil and I have stopped watching and reading for the most part, as it is all over the top fear mongering, filled with quite graphic and horrific images. It’s an election year, and apparently everything comes out of the woodwork just before an election. Nothing near us though, don’t worry!)
On Saturday, Wendy took us on our first shopping trip to the market, and to a cute little bakery that we never would have found on our own. It was much less harrowing than I expected, even though Saturday is market day, and there were tons of people. The only problem time was when I almost got hit by a car in what I thought was a pedestrian only lane. Apparently there are none of those here. Wendy introduced us to her lady in the market that charges fair prices, no matter who is buying, and so we were able to get fresh vegetables, potatoes and carrots and onions, and some fruits, which we look forward to eating. Neil has already made a wonderful curry dish (I swear to God, that’s all there is here, I am never eating curry again once we get home) with some of the vegetables. It was very yummy. I am very lucky that Neil is such a great cook, as I would have long starved myself.
We also walked down to the row of shops closest to us, and got some flour and water. Neil is insistent that we will make potato latkes here. One of the shops had a bunch of school books in it, and Neil managed to find a grade 2 Kiswahili book that he is trying to learn from. (Neil says- “But unfortunately it’s all in Kiswahili.”) We’re going to ask the receptionist at work if she could help him to translate it enough to use. I am in awe of Neil’s ability to sit and learn the language. The only time I learn anything is when he forces me to remember it, or when I’m testing him, mangling to language horribly. He actually carried on a three or four sentence conversation with someone today, which was just so awesome. Also, it makes the locals laugh when he busts something out; they seem pretty excited to help him learn. I’m petrified of saying something and having them respond in Kiswahili, cause then I won’t have any idea what’s going on.
And on a couple of last, positive notes, we have found a place that can put our photos onto CD, and so we will be sending some out very soon. Also, I have a tan. A little one, as I am afraid of the equatorial sun, but a bit of a tan none the less. Yeah! And tonight at dinner, I had a great time, as at the end of it, when I wanted to pack up what was left of my vegetable curry, the waitress brought some bags and tin foil, but instead of simply putting the tin foil over the bowl, I watched in half amusement, half horror, as she poured my curry into a baggie, folded it up in the tin foil, and handed it to me. I laughed for a while.

Good night and lots of love,

Courtney

"beautiful white girls don't fall out of trucks often here"

This morning for breakfast I had crepes with jam and hot chocolate. It was very gluttonous, but it made the knowledge that I would be eating a known chicken or something as horrible for lunch somewhat easier to bear.
The ride this morning was easier, as we seem to be figuring out how to fit all of us into the cab without me sitting on the door handle.
Before setting off however, I had to use the latrine at CABDA for the first time. I feel lucky having been able to avoid it for 3 weeks. It wasn’t actually as bad as I had feared though, but I am glad I was wearing a skirt. You basically stand on two steps above a whole in the ground and squat. I peed on my shoe a little, I’m not going to lie to you.
Next door to the classroom today the nursery class sang “B-I-N-G-O” over and over again. Neil and I kept laughing, which I was afraid was going to get us into trouble with the facilitator, who was sitting right next to us, but it really was SO cute.
At our break Neil gave the nursery class the Canada flag beach ball that he brought for them. I told him not to do it, as it would cause chaos and the teacher would hate us. She took it well though, waking them up from their nap time (!) to take them to a field and play with the ball. It was really cute, seeing them all scramble for the ball, and they gave us another “good job” dance, so it was worth it. Honestly, these kids could be throwing rocks at us and it would be the cutest thing ever.
Lunch today was the same as yesterday, but with beef, not chicken. While I have progressed far enough to be able to eat a chicken I have met, I simply cannot bring myself to start eating beef. I have confused my fellow CABDA workers, who asked what was wrong, since I didn’t take tea or eat lunch. I felt bad, and hungry, and tried to explain it in the least crazy way possible, saying that I don’t eat any meat that doesn’t come from a chicken, but I don’t think that helped. I tried to get across that my particular idiosyncrasies should not in any way change the way that they do things, and showed them my biscuits to hopefully make them ok with me not eating.
It was a humid heat today, and it just sapped the energy out of me. I was glad to be sitting there learning about child-to-child approaches to teaching, but sitting for 7 hours is a bit much. I napped during lunch break (since I wasn’t eating).
Group work was very difficult today. The two groups were split up differently, so I was with new people, including a teacher who missed yesterday. He took over the group, despite not knowing what was going on. I actually wanted to hit him with my chair. I cannot abide willfully rude ignorance. One of the CABDA staff found him hilarious, which I found worrying.
To top it off, a rain storm moved in while we were still going. The classroom has no glass in its very large windows, so the rain just blew in through the holes. Neil was just wearing a t-shirt, and when it rains it gets very cold, and one of the teachers called him over to sit between another teacher and himself to warm him up. The rain was so loud that the training could barely go one, as everyone must shout to be heard. Eventually we just stopped working and started talking. Somehow I got involved in a conversation about polygamy. The man who sat to my right has 4 wives, and on the left, seven. I was shocked, as I though the polygamy was on the decrease, something you found only in the most backwards parts of Africa. The group I was sitting with told me that it’s very common, and it isn’t going away, as it’s a tradition. I asked if the government was doing anything about it, since, as they stated, it was one of the biggest spreaders of HIV/AIDS, but they replied that “how can the government do anything when the president has many wives?” It was very difficult to get them to understand that it is illegal in Canada, it’s so ingrained here.
After the rain stopped we started up the class again, but I had stopped paying attention. Towards the end though, some classes began to sing on the other side of the school compound. It was by far the most enjoyable part of the afternoon. With just their voices they were able to make a far better sound than anything I’ve heard on the radio here so far. I would like to take this opportunity to mention how much the music videos here suck. They’re all very juvenile, made up of just a guy standing in front of drawings on the wall or something. Also, rap sucks here.
The ride home was more of the same, although you do not want to be stuck out in the boonies when the rain hits, the ride was a white knuckled one, with the truck sliding left and right on the mud. The women thought it was great, every time we shifted I would gasp; it made them laugh a lot. This time I was pressed so close against the door that my leg went 100% numb, and when I stepped out to let the facilitator out, I collapsed, fully on my ass, skirt flying akimbo. People stood and stared, as Neil put it “ beautiful white girls don’t go flying out of trucks often here.”
We went to the market, after I was able to walk again, to pick up a couple of things, and we decided to check out a restaurant in the hotel there. We walked in, only to be ignored. We sat down, only to be ignored. Neil asked for a menu, and we were told it would talk half an hour for our orders. Nothing new for Kakamega. We try to order, they’re out of everything, and it will actually be two hours before any order can be put in. It felt like one of those French restaurants where waiters refuse to meet your eye, so they don’t have to serve you. It’s possible my outrage at the place came partly from not having eaten since 7:30 that morning, but there is no way I’m going back. Which is a shame, as it would have been nice to have somewhere else to hang out than at the guest house.
We walked home, had some vegetable curry sent to the room, and Neil made some soup to tide me over. So, despite a long day, things have turned out ok today!

I want a 'good job' dance

June 5th
Today Neil and I went to a training session at a school out in the Muranda district, to learn with the teachers involved with a Child-to-Child program, which is basically teaching them how to get kids involved in health projects so they can feel a part of the process. Driving to teacher training had four of us shoved in the cab of a pickup, it was most cramped. I literally popped out of the cap when the door was opened. There are also four chickens in the trunk, and assumed that they were even less comfortable than us.
We got to CABDA at 8 this morning, as requested by Ephy. She called at 10 last night, waking us from a deep sleep and freaking us both right out. We just stared at the phone for a bit, until we realized we needed to answer it.
At the school where today’s training took place the nursery class wanted to see us, the white people, and so their teacher invited Neil and I in and they did a ridiculously cute dance for us. There were hand and hip actions, and something about doing a really good job. I died.
About half of the 14 teachers that were coming to the training session today were late. I was amused, since you never think of teachers as being late. They were also pretty naughty, unwilling to raise their hands and answer questions, and their answers got more and more ridiculous as the session went on. Finally the facilitator/training leader simply started to call names off of the attendance sheet.
We got split into two groups, and Neil and I both got elected as secretary. By the end of the day there were posters up around the room with our writing on them, getting progressively sloppier. It was just like high school.
I got to sit awkwardly through two tea times. I hate tea. Hate, hate, hate it. And I’m lactose intolerant, o the Kenyan obsession with Chai tea made with half milk does not agree with me. I tried drinking it a couple of times, but it made my stomach hurt, so I decided that simply not partaking was less insulting than me running out of the room to the latrines. The women laughed a lot when I explained that the tea made my tummy hurt.
My concern about the comfort of the chickens proved to be moot, as they were served to us for our lunch. Neil and I stared at the food for a while, unwilling to eat it. Then we realized we were really hungry, and so I sent Neil up to grab two plates that looked the least frightening. I have no idea what we ate. I have yet to get used to the food that we’re served in the field. A large bowl of ugali (maize meal cooked into a thick porridge, left until it hardens), some unknown part of a chicken, and some traditional vegetables which I have now trained myself to swallow whole, as they are so bitter.
At the end of the day they did a clapping thing that they do in a lot of the rural areas we’ve been too. It involves some sort of preparation, pulling your arms out as far as possible and then clapping two or three times to the leaders yell. They say “since we have nothing to give, and you have giving so much, we can clap for you!” Today the leader threw in “flower hands”, which was kind of like jazz hands at the beginning of the claps. I got extra flowers for being so pretty. I liked that. J
The ride home was pretty much the same as the ride there, except instead of chickens there were teachers in the back of the pickup. We dropped them off one at a time all the way to Kakamega Town. I kept thinking how funny it would be to see one of my teachers driving down a bumpy road, clinging onto the bar in the bed of a truck.
For supper we went down to the guest house restaurant, and there was one of the people staying with the Canadians next door having a beer. We sat with him for a bit, and then the project director of ACCES (African-Canadian Continuing Education Society, the Canadian NGO next door to us) showed up. It was nice to converse freely in English for a bit, and it was nice to regale them with our stories of all the troubles we’ve had.
Then, after supper, Lost has started showing on one of the two channels we get, so that was a nice surprise. Watching from the beginning should be fun.
And now, it’s off to bed at 9 again, as we have to get up before 7 to get to work on time. It’s so early though! I’m hoping we can keep this up back home, so that maybe I can go to class and not need a nap at 1 pm every day.

To church we go...

June 3rd
Today we went back to Ephy and Morris’s Church. The service this week was more in line with the services back home, with a few notable exceptions.
When we walked in just before 10, all the people were talking to themselves and some were walking back and forth along the isles, other were kneeling next to the walls. One guy stayed kneeling with his arms up in the air for the full half hour of beginning prayers. It was most impressive, if not totally understandable to me. Ephy came over to us to explain that this was the time to pray for yourself, and the church. She then went back to pacing. Neil and I sat with our hands clasped. Neil was deep in thought for about 10 minutes, and then he started to just look around. I obviously was looking around too, if I noticed this.
At around 10:30 the pastor started to sing, and everyone joined in and slowly moved back to their seats. There was the song, a prayer, for a while, and then he started to pray quite exuberantly, shouting out to Jesus, and everyone joined in. There was quite a din for that first hour. It’s so very different than back home.
The songs that are sung are quite simple and repetitive, and about half of them are in English.
There are two or three pastors that preach on any given Sunday, and the senior pastor is a visitor, and he is trying to reform the church. The services used to go from 9:30 in the morning to about 2 or 2:30, but he explained that people are afraid to come to the church, since it lasts so long. So, when Ephy first told us about her church, she laughed because we were surprised (and worried) about how long it lasts. Today, however, it only went to 12:15. I didn’t think that 10 to quarter past 12 seemed to long, but Neil sure did. During one of the sermons, which was more of a reflection on the bible, bringing in different actors (like Joseph and Moses) to talk about being chosen, and having a destiny set out for you, I noticed Neil and the little girl in front of him playing. She would turn around and grab his pant leg, and he would poke her hand, and she would turn around, only to do it again in a moment. He said afterwards that the kids were the only thing keeping him awake and interested.
At the beginning of the service, after announcements, the pastor asked any visitors to come to the front. Since we had stood up a week before, we didn’t need to, but he still pointed out “his brother and sister from Canada”, and mentioned how glad he was to have us there. It was really nice, but slightly embarrassing. I now have more sympathy for the people that Rev. Keith points to during our services.
At the end of the services there is a healing time, when people who are ill come to the front and the pastors put their hands on them and pray. The first time this happened, the people fell down after they were finished, but today was more subdued, and they just went back to their seats. I’m not sure how I feel about this part of it, as I worry that they might be forsaking actual medical treatment in favour of the church’s power. On the other hand, if it makes them feel even a bit better, who am I to criticize and take that away from them?
After church we got into the van to get dropped off at home, and I was surprised to notice Morris and two of the pastors blessing the car. They are leasing the van right now, seeing if they want to buy it, so I guess they wanted to bless it just in case. Eventually Ephy came over and joined in, the four of them standing with their hands on the hood, praying out loud to themselves. And inside sat Humphrey, the driver, Neil and I, and four kids. It was a bit awkward.
Other than that, it was a lazy Sunday, which was quite nice and needed.

Part II - Illness, Boredom

Sometime on Monday May 21st Courtney began to feel ill, and towards the night she developed a fever and started to get shooting pains in her stomach. The next day she still had a fever and the pains were quite intense, so I went next door to get a thermometer and ask advice. It turns out the three Canadians had all gotten food poisoning from the restaurant attached to our complex, and no longer eat there. I grabbed a thermometer from the Finns and ran back to Courtney. In an idiotic attempt to sterilize the thermometer, I poured boiling water over it, expanding the mercury far beyond its capacity, and shattering the end of it, spilling blobs of mercury over the sink. My mind flashing through any information I might know about mercury gas and poisoning, I covered my mouth with my shirt and ran into the bedroom and closed the door, where Courtney was in bed to tell her what happened, as she continued to have intense stomach pains and obviously needed to go to the hospital. That was a low point. So I went next door (a businessman has an office right next to our room) and talked to him for the first time, asked him about mercury and if water from the sink was recycled in the complex (he said no), and if I could use his phone. We called Ephy who came to pick us up and bring us to one of Kakamega’s hospitals. According to our health insurance we’re supposed to call their hotline in Toronto BEFORE going to the hospital if we want everything to be covered, so after dropping Ephy and Courtney off at the hospital, I dashed out to the post office/telecom building to try make a collect call to Toronto. After much frantic inquiry it seemed that nobody knew what a collect call was, and there was no operator, I bought the largest phone card I could find and called the number, to be informed I had ‘two and a half minutes’ remaining on my card… which got me through the automated voice prompts and a minute of talking to the guy on the line, I don’t know if he ever got our full ID number, but I said forget it, the money’s not the important thing, and rushed back to the hospital to find Courtney drinking a pink goopy substance from a cup. The hospital then tested her for typhoid and malaria, and the results came back positive for typhoid, and negative for malaria. Perplexed (and frightened) by her typhoid, Ephy decided to take us to a private lab to redo the tests, thinking that the hospital was not reliable and might give a diagnosis simply to sell the treatment. The private clinic gave the same results, but the lab technician told us that a typhoid vaccination could give a false positive… so we went back to the office and tried to use the internet to get friends at home (thanks Erin and Craig!) to call the travel clinic we got our shots at to find out if they had given Courtney Typhoid vaccine or not. Of course, the time difference meant that the clinic was not open in Canada, so we had to wait around for and hour and a half in the office waiting for morning to come in Canada, while Courtney sat drooped, looking like she was dying, on a plastic lawn chair. Once we knew it wasn’t typhoid we figured it could be food poisoning and we went back home to give Courtney a liquid diet and hope she’d fight it off.
The next day she wasn’t any better, so with the help of a contact a neighbor had in another hospital, we brought her to a different hospital, where she was inexplicably brought to the pediatric ward. Nonetheless the doctor seemed quite sure she had malaria (even though we’re both on anti-malarials) (and even though both tests said she didn’t have malaria) and prescribed a 4-day pill treatment, which we picked up from a chemist (as well as a new thermometer to replace the Finns’). Alas, the medication gave Courtney new pains and symptoms, so after a few days we didn’t know if she was suffering from malaria, or malaria treatment. The good news, of course, is that by the end of the weekend, she was feeling much better, and the only thing that stuck around is a congested cough which she still has.
Another aspect of Courtney’s illness is the boredom of sitting around our apartment all day with a limited number of things to do. Now that she’s better, we still stay indoors all evening, as it gets dark at 7pm sharp and we’ve been advised not to go out at night. We have a TV in the room with 3 channels on it – two Kenyan broadcasters and one from a satellite which occasionally changes… but it’s been the ‘Hallmark Channel’ for about 2 weeks now, which broadcasts old family movies and between them repeatedly shows the same clips from a handful of shows as special ‘Hallmark Moments’, even though they generally involve things blowing up and people canoodling. The Kenyan stations have news several times a day, sometimes in English and sometimes in Swahili, as well as an assortment of North American shows. Donald Trump’s ‘The Apprentice’ is fun to watch, but ‘The Swan’, a reality competition based on taking ‘ugly duckling’ women and giving them radical reconstructive plastic surgery is only fodder for our conversation… but we still watch it. Other than TV we’ve been playing cards and reading books and not much else. In a recent trip to Kisumu we picked up a chess board, a book on how to learn Swahili, and a laptop, so we’ve got more things to do now but once work picks up we should have more engaging things to do in the evening.

Part I – Roads, Church, and Neighbors

It’s been over 2 weeks since I’ve written a full narration of what we’ve been doing in Kenya, and a fair amount has occurred (worst of it is Courtney’s malaria) so I’m going to split this into a few pieces. After I catch you up on what life’s been like for us here, I’ll write more about CABDA, the work it does, and the groups it assists.
So, to start where we left off, Saturday May 19th, we visited Kakamega’s famed rainforest to the East of the town (and since my writing style is such that I am not always capable of returning to a topic, I’ll just say now that it was neat but fairly inauthentic. We drove into a western-style small resort which had been cleared out of the rainforest by an American couple who lived and died there. We took a short hike through the forest which only gave us a small taste and we will need to return to bigger trail another time. Driving out of the resort Courtney spotted monkeys high up in the trees which we stopped to watch and snatch a few photos). To get there we drive half an hour down dirt roads, passing through Murhanda sub-location where CABDA works with 4 grandmother caregiver groups. Roads are narrow by Canadian standards, extremely rocky, hole-y, ravine-y, and bumpy, full of people moving in either direction with water, produce (lots of women with platters of bananas on their heads), firewood, herds of cattle, donkeys, chickens roaming around, bicycle taxis, and people standing around watching, talking, or tending a fire. Because the roads are so rough, the only lane is the lane-of-least-resistance—your vehicle bobs and weaves around people, bikes while seeking the flattest piece of road. Whenever a vehicle comes in the opposite direction, there is almost always a few moments in which a head-on collision appears immanent. But people are used to this driving style and have no problems slowing down so other cars can duck out of the way – and honking is less an expression of anger and more an important way of communicating with the many kinds of road travelers. When we are riding boda-bodas (bicycle taxis with a padded seat behind the main bicycle seat) I’m always impressed with the cyclists’ similar ability to (safely, so far) follow the lane-of-least-resistance in crowded city streets while operating a human-powered (‘man-powered’ wouldn’t be politically incorrect in this case: only males pedal bicycles) from a lower position in the road hierarchy.
The drive to the Kakamega Forest I’m describing is typical… we’ve driven down other dirt roads for other purposes often, and the scene is always the same. We attract considerable attention passing through the roads (also everywhere we go), and if I were to estimate on it I’d say that about half the people that see us stop to look at us as we pass by. For the kids we can smile and wave at them (it’s not inconceivable that in some cases we’re the first white people they’ve ever seen), but among adults, and especially young adult males who look angry, it can be a bit disconcerting, although I haven’t let it bother me much.
In all the literature I read about this region of Western Kenya it is described as overpopulated. It is the ‘most overpopulated’ part of Kenya, and this is frequently cited as a contributing factor to the regions high levels of poverty. When I was reading all this before coming here I formed certain images in my head of what this meant on the ground. These descriptors of Kakamega’s problems of poverty and overpopulation were so clear-cut and backed up with statistics that I quite plainly expected to ‘see overpopulation’ and ‘see poverty’ once I was here. And indeed, simply driving down the road, you see people everywhere, and walking past the markets you’re among throngs of people milling about the street. And yet… there’s nothing unnatural about it. The market is simply a busy marketplace in a fair-sized city. The roads have lots of people on it, but if you took any road in Toronto and removed every person in a car and put them at the side of the street, there could be just as many people. I was expecting extensive slums everywhere, yet most people (outside the city… much of which could be considered akin to our suburbs) have more land than most Canadians on which they grow household staples and crops to bring to market. I’ve seen a lot that could be considered poverty – people who need them unable to buy shoes, unable to pay school fees, unable to find work, left to idleness and drink, children with distended stomachs (only a couple so far). Yet for the most part people work, eat, talk, drink tea… they get on. What I mean is, we haven’t seen abjection and destitution… people aren’t ‘so bummed out’ about their poverty… they live full lives in ways that their material circumstances permit.
Where was I? Saturday the 19th we went to the forest, and on Sunday we were invited to Ephy and Morris’ (our hosts) church. Ephy is the woman I met in Toronto at the Stephen Lewis Foundation’s Grandmothers gathering last year. I actually met Morris there too but didn’t say more than hello to him. Ephy runs CABDA, for whom we’re interning, and Morris runs a larger and more established organization named KAMADEP. KAMADEP was called an exemplar of Kenya’s NGO’s (non-governmental organization) by the nation’s NGO Board, a government body that oversees NGO activities and directs them towards development goals (we met two representatives of the Board while they were visiting Kakamega). KAMADEP is located close to our guest house so we can walk there easily. Currently the property is in the midst of great activity as last year Morris conceived of the idea of building a 4-story training centre with group space on the bottom floor and guest rooms on the top 3 floors. Morris is very proud of the project, and indeed it’s a huge investment. Thus we’ve had an interesting opportunity to see Kenyan construction close-up, as Morris has taken us inside the building-in-process at a couple points in its completion. In our first visit, the walls and ceiling of the first floor was done, but the structure was still being ‘set’—so the first floor had columns upon columns of logs upright from floor to ceiling… seemingly keeping the whole building together. In our second visit the logs had been removed and we were able to wander around the bottom floor. The building has a steel-enforced (rebar) concrete skeleton and walls of large stone blocks and bricks. Logs and thick sticks are utilized extensively for various purposes, and there are large piles of them outside the construction area (as well as piles of bricks and sand). KAMADEP itself has about 35 employees, a fleet of motorbikes which workers use to get to the field, and couple vehicles and drivers. The work the organization does surrounds various projects in water and sanitation, community governance, agriculture (they have a couple beekeeping projects), microcredit, and gender equity. Morris left his job as a civil servant and started it 7 years ago, and Ephy worked in it with him for a while before leaving to start her own NGO. They are a power-couple. They have three kids, two boys and a daughter, the eldest, aged 7-12.
So every Sunday the 5 of them go to their Quaker church for 9:30 in the morning, and don’t get out until 1 or 2pm. The kids go to bible school behind the church and Ephy and Morris go to service by themselves, but a lot of other parents there have young children with them in the service. After today (June 3rd), all I can say is thank god for those children! There’s been one or two kids in front of us both times we went who, fascinated by our whiteness, stare at us or, today, grab and poke me. So I’m able to play little peek-a-boo and poking games with the kids to keep me entertained during the long service! Really though, the service is rather different than I’m used to (admittedly I’m not much of a church-goer, and while I’ve sampled a few denominations I haven’t seen all the varieties of services in Canada), I enjoy parts of it, and it deserves description. The church itself is like most buildings in the area… a concrete base of walls with corrugated metal roofing supported by wooden beams. There is hardly any decoration, and haven’t noticed a crucifix in any Quaker church so far. There is a good sound system with Peavey amplifiers and an extensive mixing station, to which 5 or 6 microphones, a keyboard and a bass guitar are connected. People sit in plastic lawn chairs facing forward (there were maybe 80 people there the first time, and 40 the second time) and two people stand at the pulpit. The service is conducted in Swahili and English, with the pastor leading in English and the other translating into Swahili (though there are multiple pastors that take turns ministering and sometimes guest pastors, so sometimes its Swahili being translated into English). The pastors speak passionately and rousingly, and the overlay of pastor and translator is often quite lyrical. Sometimes the pastor paces back and forth shouting rapidly, banishing the devil out of the church, and everyone responds, waving their arms to cast out satan, first out the front windows, then out the back door, then out the windows, and when he says something that people agree with them shout ‘amen’, or ‘yes’, usually in unison. The sermon itself is often literally lyrical, when the keyboardist and bassist begins to play, and everyone gets up and interacts with the service, dancing to the rhythm, ducking down low and swinging their arms with the pastor, raising their arms to receive god’s blessings and gifts, and when a choir assembles behind the pastor people stand up and sing along. In one segment of the service, people are given time to pray, in their own private communion with their lord, and the organ plays on powerfully, and the pastor paces and continues to speak, but this time his voice is added to by the voices of everyone else in the room, praying aloud but in no set script, a directed chaos of emotion that sends shivers down my spine each time its happened, and people are so moved that they cry, that they drop to their knees and raise their arms to the sky, that they pace back and forth and scrunch up their face and keep on praying aloud. It’s not something I can fully participate in but it’s a lot of energy and I sat and I listened to it and tried to watch without being obtrusive. Then the choir begins to sing and everyone returns to unison and sings along before returning to their seat. The bible part of the service isn’t something I can say much about, because it’s the part I amuse myself thinking about other things and making googley eyes with children, but Courtney is more familiar with the material and pays attention. After the service (at length) finishes, we mill around a bit shaking hands and saying hello to people until we get a ride home.
That particular Sunday we were invited over for tea by a Finnish couple that lives in the building next to ours, one of whom is working with KAMADEP for Save the Children Finland. The building is the home base for a Canadian NGO based on Vancouver – ACCES (African Canadian Continuing Education Society) and there were three Canadians living there when we visited… one student our age just finishing an 8 month CIDA internship with the organization, and an older couple working for 6 months. ACCES runs 7 schools in the region, which are private schools in a sense, but function like public schools. The organization has a philosophy of being entirely Kenyan run, and Canadian operations are just for fundraising, plus they send interns to help out, but not as overseers, as a Canadian involvement component. The Finns and Canadians are more established than we are so they’ve been able to give some advice for food, cooking, and health, as well as lend a couple books (‘The in-between world of Vikram Lall’ is a great book, read it!) to us.

Random bits to tide you over until I can write something real again.

It's freedom day, Makarada Day, and so we get the day off! I'm at Ephy's husbands work, as they have some computer issues they'd like us to look at. Apparently who can and cannot get the day off is quite arbitrary, cause everyone here is working.

My cough is still around but I am generally very healthy, which is a nice change. Although as soon as I was well enough to wander around the apartment I kicked the couch and broke my middle toe on my left foot and cut a chunk out of my arm. Typical, eh? Luckily I brought lots of band aids and polysporn, and Neil brought duct tape that I was able to tape up my foot with.

We went to Kisumu yesterday, about the equivalent of going to Toronto from Aurora, is Toronto was a dirty unorderly, hell hole of a place. I cannot stop dreaming of Canadian orderliness, civility, and politeness. There seem to be no real driving rules, except to stay to to the right or left, and not hit anyone. Crossing the street almost makes me faint, and driving down the road with cars coming within inches of the side of the car is horrific. On the plus side, I'm getting used to the roads, which are full of holes and bumps and every other hazard. At one point as we were driving, Neil took a picture of a road side stand in Kisumu, and the flash went off. A bunch of young men standing around say it, and started yelling at us and waving their arms. It was most unsettling. As with every other experience, Neil is definitely dealing better with all this.

We did get to shop in the first big box type store here, a huge Nakumat, where we were able to get things like Ragu pasta sauce, and imported sliced turkey, so it was worth the trip.
We also had pizza with Ephy in the food court. It's amazing what you miss after such a short time. mmmm.... pizza.....

I don't know if Neil mentioned this (I read his posts, they're just long!) but guess where our next door neighbours are from!!! White Rock, British Columbia! Isn't that insane? They're a lovely older couple here for six months doing work with Canadian sponsored schools. They offered to take us to the market, which I am still afraid of, but it started to rain, so we'll have to do it another time. It rains everyday here, and it RAINS. It's starting to get cold, actually. Which is a bit annoying, cause, I mean, it's Africa!

Well, that's all I have time for right now! I hope that everyone back home is doing well!
All my love,
Courtney