What My Mother Doesn't Know

We all know that mothers worry about their children.

"Is he eating okay?"
"Is she warm enough?"
"Should they be going there at night?"
"Don't do that, you'll go blind!"

Whether substantiated and reasonable (or not), this dynamic causes many a son and daughter to hide the delicate secrets of their life for the sake of our mothers' sanity (the awful truth). Thankfully, this scandalous piece of blog-posting will finally shed light on all the misgivings my mother had about me going to Kenya. In that vein, I dedicate this post to my mother. Sure, she worries - and here's why...


The Early Troubles

My first inklings of trouble came at Week 3. Mysterious flu-like symptoms began to appear. Even more, I had a stiff back and constant congestion. Knowing my weak immune system, I decided to check it out at the local hospital worried that I might have malaria.

Blood tests were taken and a virus was diagnosed the culprit. The aches were a function of my mattress. I was misdiagnosed a bunch of symptom-treating medications and then released.


Journeying to work

Having already described the matatus, I thought I would give you an idea of my journey to my work. The most striking part of walking up to the road is this:



I live next to a garbage dump.

Garbage dumps are haphazardly strewn about the local communities, as there is no municipal waste management service. Beautiful plots of land become grazing sites for cows and goats that feast upon the household and commercial wastes of Mombasa. These same cows and goats are the ones that are butchered for meat and eaten. It sometimes makes me question where my lunch came from.


Dehydration

Dehydration really takes its toll on you here. It's an ever-present prospect by virtue of the climate and the close-quarters involved in our work. Forgetting my water bottle has inspired moments of disappointment in myself, knowing I will necessarily have to purchase much more throughout the day. With that in mind, an example of the close-quarters that inspire dehydration is a photo of one of the local internet cafes I frequent. It's a room that is too small with five people sitting in it, but routinely fits ten-plus.




Police

Police here are not a real danger. Merely, they will detain you until they can finagle a bribe from a passing motorist. On the way to Malindi, a town two-and-a-half hours away, we were pulled over no less than three times for routine shake downs. Each time, our way forward was facilitated by a calm exchange of one or two hundred shillings.




Beards

The glory of my Africa beard knows no bounds. It is simultaneously a blessing and a curse. Enticing women is one thing, but sometimes a man gets tired of constant flirting and the like. I mean, how can one be so dastardly attractive yet so ruggedly handsome? A truly lethal combination.




That was all facetious FYI.


I just figured it was just something else my mom didn't want to hear...

The Last Hurrah at Kwacha Afrika

March 19.

That ominous day has arrived. From the beginning, the date was meant as the end of our on-project work. When it comes to the day though, things were not always as they seem. Photos galore were snapped to and fro about the Kwacha Compound. And despite the levity with the poses and smiles, there were tears and hugs and genuine emotions of regret at having to leave and being left.

Before embarking on my safari, I thought I would post some pictures of a few of the faces of Kwacha Afrika during the closing days of our sojourn here. By no means do these select few photos single out the meaningful people from my stay here. There is just only so much bandwidth I have to post pictures, otherwise I would have to wait all night for photos to upload.

DJ Havire works the turntables at the Kwacha Afrika compound. Havire is a mainstay of the Kwacha community outreaches. Typically, he takes charge of the sound systems and music for these large events. You can always tell he enjoys getting the crowds engaged via his disc changers.


Seen here are Evan Trippel (left) and Charles Kangeri (right). Charles was a close friend of the Canadian volunteers at Kwacha. His constant jokes and distinctive laugh always meant a fun conversation was about to happen. He even was kind enough to invite Evan and myself to his rural home one weekend to meet his mother and brothers. His mother's gift of homemade tea is one of the best things I will be bringing back from Kenya. One of the premier people I've met on this trip.


Georgina has been a steadfast friend of the Canadian volunteers from beginning to end. Though quiet in group settings, set her on-stage with a microphone in hand and she can whip up the positive emotions and attentions of a host of people in heartbeat. Always constructive in her approaches to things, Gina is somebody who I greatly admire and will miss.


I caught this photo of Amina (left) and Angela (right) at the farewell get-together today. Amina is one of the most energetic volunteers out there, which she does while raising two kids of her own.


Here are the four roommates from my homestay, plus the son of our homestay hosts, the Kalus. Clockwise from the upper-right are Evan Trippel (New Brunswick), Rebecca Berman(Montreal), Melissa Walters (London), Myself, and Mike Kalu. Mike and Ihad instant brotherhood over our same names and our love of soccer. He comes home every night to eat dinner with us and chat with us about everything you can imagine. Mike is also one of the executives of Kwacha and does a lot to plan the group's activities. Without him and his jokes around, the Canadian volunteers would have had a much more boring experience. Unfortunately, he likes Manchester United (just kidding).

So there you go. My path is paved for next week's safari. This could be my last blog post before Canada. See you on the other side and I'll make sure to avoid the lions.

Of Monkeys, Jellyfish and Cockroaches

Time flies when you're having fun. It also flies when you're really busy. When you're having fun and being really busy....well, you get the idea. With two-and-a-half weeks left here in Kenya, things are finally coming into focus for me personally. There are certain realities with which I have come to grips: development work is even less rosy and positive than I thought, it is a struggle to play internal politics, and I think for the first time in my life I am becoming homesick. Ah well, on the bright side I have some time left to enjoy myself and continue to contemplate my whole experience.

On my way to Kwacha Afrika last week, I got the rare chance to nab some pictures of monkeys clambering over the rooftop of a local cafe. They were a group of five, and were really shy. Thankfully, I had my camera on hand or else I might have missed it.



Over the past seven days, our group of six volunteers and the host of volunteers at Kwacha Afrika delivered five complete events. Two days were women's events. The first was a "Women at Work" speaker's panel featuring local female business leaders talking to a Kisauni high school. The other women's event was a screening of a documentary in honour of International Women's Day.

Three days of last week consisted of active citizenship training for 22 youth group leaders. This training is part of YCI's goal of complementing economic development with improvement in community governance capacities. In training local youth about governance and their roles in decision-making, YCI hopes to create concerned citizens who can push for accompanying democratic improvements. Unfortunately, the discussions with youth proved somewhat depressing. During a discussion about constitutional rights among the leaders, the group became split into two camps - those with positive attitudes towards their roles in creating change, and those who see corruption and graft in government as too debilitating to allow for the country's redemption. When the youth are more afraid of the police than thugs, how can progress be made? It puts your own efforts into perspective when you realize that certain trainings lack the gravity of real-life perspectives. Here is photo of me in action during a facilitation session:



We took some deserved R&R amidst the hectic week at Mombasa Beach. It was a quick getaway for us and some of the Kwacha youth to relax, play some beach soccer and swim. Having never been to a tropical beach prior to coming to Kenya, I had not experienced the simple pleasure of walking into warm water so carefree for your um - ahem - "parts". Male readers who have sauntered into a cold lake know what I'm talking about. Unfortunately, tropical beaches are not all fun and games. I was the unlucky recipient of an unpleasant jellyfish sting (seen below). It actually got me twice, leaving a nice Zorro "Z" mark on my lower stomach.



In terms of other animals, I crushed a cockroach in my room which exploded onto my clothes. Consequently, I spent last night shaking cockroach parts off my t-shirts. Gross.

Okay, I'll try to fit in a few more posts before I make it back home. I'm looking forward to seeing everybody soon. Miss you all.