Palmetto Bugs Invade my Home

Well, I’m sitting on the bus again and finally on my way back to Kakamega. Writing in my notebook is proving to be difficult this time around. The road from Mombasa to Nairobi was freshly paved, whereas the road from Nairobi to Kakamega has some of the worst stretches in Kenya. My handwriting is barely legible as it is, and the potholes, off-road detours, and two hundred of miles of crumbled, eroded asphalt make writing a real challenge.

There was also an unfortunate meal called “The Mix” that I ate in Mombasa last week. Only available late at night from the downtown meat market, it is a mix of boiled meat, french fries, chilies, and a cream-based “special sauce”. It has been five days now and my stomach still hasn’t recovered......

.......That was the extent of my bus trip journalism. I’m back in the village and now on stable, level ground and my stomach is finally purged of The Mix. It’s good to be home and I feel much better. I think I ended my last blog entry discussing the roaches that invaded my house as a result of the open sugar bag and half eaten candy bar my uninvited guests were considerate enough to leave behind while I was away for Christmas. In mid-January a vicious battle was waged against the Great Cockroach Invasion of 2007, and I’m proud to say I emerged victorious. Lillian, one of the FSD volunteers, used the cutsie euphemism “Palmetto Bugs” to describe my unwanted houseguests, but they were actually enormous, disgusting cockroaches. After throwing away half of my food that the palmetto bugs had managed to eat through, packaging and all, I sealed what remained in Tupperware and Ziploc bags.

With the food issue resolved I was then able to focus my attention on the demise of all cockroaches living in my kitchen. Thanks to a brutally effective insecticide called Doom (Motto: “Kills Dudus Dead”. Dudu is the Swahili word for insect) and an amazing product called Death Chalk, I’d estimate that at least 200 roaches met a grizzly fate one muggy January evening.
Insects in this country are persistent and a nuisance. If a single breadcrumb falls to the ground or leftovers cool on the kitchen counter, it is just a matter of minutes before an otherwise sterile kitchen is overrun.

Fortunately, my house is equipped with a hard working team of geckos. Except when food is carelessly left out, the most I see of my insect friends are usually scattered legs and antennae, which apparently the geckos leave behind as a reminder they are doing their job. Thankfully, after one large can of doom and a stick of death chalk, the proper cockroach-to-gecko ratio was restored.

Beyond my epic battle with the cockroaches, there was plenty going on in January. I sat through several never-ending network meetings both in the office and in the field, in what I hope will contribute towards a very productive year for my primary project. I was also with visitors throughout nearly the entire month. During my first week back in Kakamega I had a homeless FSD volunteer staying with me. She was in the middle of a very frustrating change of houses and needed a place to stay. We got along well enough but realized by the week’s end that between my disorganization and her perfectionism we were not very compatible roommates. I also went monkey tracking with Kristy, my primate research friend living in the rainforest. Kristy has been in the woods for over six months now, knows hundreds of blue monkeys by name, and taught me all kinds of disturbing money trivia. For instance, did you know that there is only one male for each group of 20-50 monkeys? And when that male is overthrown, the new male will kill off all the babies from the previous male, so as to increase the likelihood that only somebody from his own gene pool will take his place? Nature is beautiful.

Another high point of January was a lunch that was scheduled with the American Ambassador to Kenya. Around 20 volunteers living in Western Kenya were invited to attend. However, when we arrived at the restaurant we were informed that the Ambassador had been called away at the last minute due to “an issue” in Somalia, but his aides and assistant were still there, as were several employees from the American Embassy. Even without the Ambassador’s presence we had a great time. The food and conversation were good, and the open bar we were treated to after lunch left many volunteers out of commission for the long distance travel back to their sites, which resulted in a party at my house with around ten volunteers.

The next day we left for Kisumu, and between the unbearably hot and humid Kisumu weather, dehydration, too much to drink the night before, and rarely having a minute to just unwind since I had returned from the states, I was starting to feel pretty terrible. Regardless, I had to keep going full throttle through the next week. I installed a computer system that was donated to the network along with some ridiculous motorized bikes that I’ll talk about later, gave a training session on needs assessment to an incoming group of FSD volunteers, and facilitated language lessons for the new volunteers with Panina, my favorite language trainer from Kitui. When I saw that a teaching job was needed for Swahili training I immediately thought of her and gave her a call. She gratefully accepted and it was great to catch up with her again.

Panina is a rare breed in Kenya, and is much like my friend Rhoda from the Sweet Potato training days. She doesn’t put up with any nonsense and tells men exactly how she feels about them. I have a lot of respect for empowered, independent women in this culture. She was also a language trainer for the American Embassy and was teaching in the building when it was destroyed in an Al Queda terrorist attack in 1998. She told me that a guard refused to let the vehicle filled with explosives into the basement level parking garage, even at gunpoint. As a result the driver of the vehicle panicked and detonated the explosives outside of the building. Although hundreds of people (mostly Kenyans) were killed, this was because so many people rushed to the windows to see what the commotion was about. If they had stayed in the interior of the building, as Panina did, they would have emerged from the incident unharmed. How tragic.

Finally I made it through the week. I had so much work piled on partly because I wanted to make time to travel with a visitor, my friend Jana who is a travel agent from Germany. Jana has wanted to see East Africa for some time and planned to visit me in late January of this year. When she made arrangements to come a year ago I had no idea how much would be going on at this time. Things got even crazier when she arrived, but I still managed to show her around and we had a good time. I’m almost up to date, but there are still tons of things I want to write about so I will save my two week adventure with Jana for next time.

Loads of Pics!!

I'm in Nairobi staying at the extremely nice house of the chairman of the DrumNet program. I'm a little behind on my blog but now's as good a time as any to take advantage of the fast Internet and post a few pics from the last month.

This is Bodo, a coastal village I passed on my way to Funzi Island. Kenya is so amazingly diverse. This place is completely different than Kakamega, from the culture to the architecture to the landscape.

I took a boat ride down a coastal river last Friday and found this sinister croc hiding out under the mangroves

Fisherman waist deep, not 50 feet away from the croc I saw. I was told a medice man has a special ointment the shrimpers use to keep the crocs away.

The trains apparently go a bit slower around this turn nowadays

Along the bay on the way to the coastal river

A close up of one of the hundreds of different catepillars living in the rainforest

A crested crane, the national emblem of Uganda and a common site in Kenya as well

Bugs on the coast are ginourmous. I used the ballpoint pen to provide a sense of scale.

A coral reef during low tide in the coastal town of Msambweni. For several hundred yards you are able to walk past tide pools filled with starfish, sea urchins, crabs, colorful fish, and even the occational octopus

A fishing dhow on the return trip to the shoreline. The man on the right is standing on the pontoon to act as a counterweght and keep the boat upright

Theft and Robbery Month

I’m currently riding on the bus to Nairobi after a great time on the coast. The woman in front of me is scrolling through the ring tones on her phone, playing all of them at maximum volume. The guy next to me keeps leaning halfway into my seat, his elbow propped on my knee. No matter how many times I push him away within a few minutes he’s back again. Oh, and its a million degrees outside. In the bus with the windows shut (the guy behind me doesn’t want the breeze in his face), the temperature raises to a billion. All coastal Kenyans come equipped with a sweat rag for wiping their body and face. I don’t have one and am pretty much soaked right now.
There’s plenty I want to write about the past week but I’m still more than a month behind. I’m trying to do something about this before things get hopelessly out of hand. January and February are proving to be the busiest months I’ve had here. For the sake of my future Pulitzer Prize-winning best selling autobiography I better catch up soon so I remember it later.

My return flight to Kenya went well enough. During a layover in Detroit I met my Peace Corps friend Maria, also on her way back from a holiday at home. I think I’ve written about her before but I think Maria is one of the best volunteers in Kenya. She’s fluent in Swahili, completely integrated into her school and community, and loves it here. She was even thinking about extending her service for a third year. However, her trip to the states appears to have changed her mind. Maria is one of the only volunteers from my group who has managed to maintain a long-distance relationship past the first year. Seeing her boyfriend over the holidays seems to have convinced her that two years in Kenya is more than enough.

I flew in on Friday, but had a meeting in Nairobi on Monday and Tuesday. I was ready to get back to my site but ended up having to spend my first four days in the capital city. The good news was that Maria’s mom works for the Holiday Inn, and I was able to stay at the upscale Nairobi Holiday Inn on my first night back for a quarter of the cost. The posh hotel and westernized atmosphere of the capital city actually made a nice, more gradual transition back to life in the Peace Corps.

That’s not to say everything went well. This is Africa, after all. Nairobi thieves must have been working full time this January. On Saturday morning Maria and I decided to go to Adam’s Arcade, a huge second-hand store full of the clothes American people don’t want and donate to Charity. I have managed to get brand new designer clothes in this country for less than a dollar, and plan to come back the states with a better wardrobe than when I left. Over time of course the clothes will wear out, and I will donate them again so they can come in a container back to Africa and the great cycle of life can continue.

So I’m getting sidetracked. On the first matatu towards Adam’s Arcade a man came running up and butted me out of the way with the intention of sitting between me and Maria. I’ve decided that when people are blatantly rude there’s nothing wrong with occasionally returning the gesture, and I shoved the guy out of the way and took my seat. There are three seats in the back row and the third one was already taken, so the man started telling the conductor he knew us and wanted to make sure he could sit in the back. The conductor asked if that was true and I told him I’d never seen the guy. He was asked to leave the matatu and the conductor told me he’s seen the guy often and he always behaves that way. He suspects that the guy makes a living stealing and pick pocketing from matatus. I was proud of myself because I didn’t him even have an opportunity to try that on us. Nairobi is sketchy, I reasoned, but when you know the way things work here like me you don’t have to worry too much.

We took the first matatu from Westlands to the city center than boarded the next for the trip to Adam’s Arcade. The back of the matatu was full except for the middle seat in the second row and the middle seat in the front. We took our strategically located places and the guys on board were exceptionally friendly and nice. That should have been a warning sign in itself but after my victorious defeat over my previous theft attempt I guess I wasn’t being overly cautious. The two guys in the front row were chatting amiably with Maria, particularly the one on the left. In fact, he even paid her fare when we departed the matatu. Meanwhile, the man sitting next to me warned that there had been several police checks that day and I needed to wear my seatbelt. Seatbelt use is required in Kenya and failure to wear one is punishable with a fine. I always try to put one on but I find the law a bit of a joke. A good two thirds of the belts don’t work at all and the overcrowded vehicles usually just pay a bribe at the checkpoints and continue unchecked. I reasoned that perhaps the laws were more stringent in Nairobi and paid no attention when the guy sitting next to me helped adjust my belt.

We arrived out of the matatu with no police check, and as usual I checked the contents of my pockets as soon as I got out. I immediately noticed that my phone was missing and before I could stop the matatu it had driven away. I told Maria what had happened and she checked the contents of her backpack that had been securely in her lap during the entire ride. In the front pouch she had stored her passport, residence card, cash, and credit cards. Everything had been stolen. It had also been where she was keeping her change for the matatu fare. The thieves, noticing this, cleverly offered to pay her way so she wouldn’t look into her empty bag. I could see then how the man on the left managed to keep Maria distracted while the man on the right unzipped her bag and stole her things. The fact that they managed to do that in her lap without her even noticing indicates they were pretty good at what they do. I realized that the man adjusting my seatbelt had somehow gotten into my pocket and lifted my phone without me even noticing. We both felt like total suckers for being so careless and realized you can never be too cautious in a matatu, especially in Nairobi.

I spent the next few days in Nairobi going through the extremely frustrating ordeal of trying to get my old number back. I waited in three different lines for hours, but managed to learn through my experience that I was not alone. There were easily fifty people waiting with me, and after asking around I realized that nearly all of them had had their phones stolen as well. Later I spoke to several Kenyan friends about the experience and nearly all of them had a similar story of losing a phone or a wallet in Nairobi. It made me feel a little bit better to know I’m not the only target. I actually learned there’s a booming market for cheap second hand phones on the streets of Nairobi. You lose your phone, buy back a stolen one, and the cycle continues.
A similar story goes for side view mirrors. Not long ago it was very common to come out to your vehicle and see the mirror was gone. Luckily there was a place in town where a mirror, identical to the one that was stolen, could be purchased for a decent price. Drivers in Nairobi finally put an end to that by writing serial numbers on their mirrors.

The day after losing my phone I met two Danish girls at the Upper Hill campsite, my favorite low budget backpackers hostel in Kenya. The girls had just started their first day of a six month backpacking trip around the world. Within their first few hours on the streets of Nairobi, they were approached by two men dressed as police officers. The officers told them that there was a lot of counterfeit money being circulated and requested to have a look at theirs. Of course you can see where the story is going. When the girls took out their money the men grabbed it and ran, and each of them lost around $400 in shillings and euros. I also learned that day that another Peace Corps Volunteer had returned from the states the day before me. She took the same bus to her site as I do and when she arrived all of her bags full of Christmas gifts and food from the states had been stolen.

So theft is rampant here. I could go on and on with these kinds of stories but just one more example. I was fed up with Nairobi and ready to get back to my site. Finally I was finished with my meetings and was able to leave. My entire time away I had a feeling that somehow someone would manage to get into my house while I was gone. After all, even though I have metal doors with slidebolts and padlocks on the outside, I am a mzungu and the people on my compound, including lazy drunken Moses, knew I was leaving. However, the only times I had managed to lose things from my house was when I had not realized children were able to squeeze through the bars on my windows. Since I’ve kept the windows locked nothing else has happened.
When I came back to my house I noticed something wasn’t right. The metal loops that were holding the padlock on the outside of the door had been chiseled off, but the door was still locked. When I came inside the floor had been swept and everything tidied up. Then I started noticing all the little things missing. Half of my protein bars were gone; the blanket in the guest bedroom; the cap to my water can; several of the books I’ve been meaning to read. Not only that, but someone had left the sugar jar open, and my kitchen, as I learned that night, had been taken over my giant cockroaches. Whoever came into the house obviously had a key so I called Shamala, the landlord from Nairobi who leases me the house. He told me that, yes, he did come in late one night and see I wasn’t home. He needed a place to stay so he just broke the lock of the door then unlocked the door and came in. He has a room he keeps locked in the back with all his things and stayed there. I mentioned to him all the things that were missing and he told me that he had no idea that had happened. Then he remembered that, yes, he did let some people inside and they may have taken/eaten things in my house.

I was pretty pissed and called Peace Corps to tell them about it. I didn’t want to change houses because I undoubtedly would have the same kinds of problems elsewhere, plus I think, break-ins and annoying boda boda drivers aside, my site is just about perfect. Anyway, Peace Corps gave my landlord a call and straightened things out, so hopefully that’s the last time I deal with this kinda stuff. At least in my own house, as I’m not placing any bets that Nairobi won’t get me again.

Christmas in America

My February 1st resolution is to catch up on my blog. Things have been running pretty much nonstop since mid-December but I'll be relaxing a bit over the next few days and finally have some down time. Right now it's a Saturday morning and I'm sitting on a breezy beach with a notebook and pen. I'm starting to feel pretty useless and figure it's as good a time as any to bring things up to date.

After 15 months in Kenya I had an opportunity to spend my Christmas holidays in Alabama. Thanks to my wonderful parents, who covered the airfare, I managed to catch up with friends and family, recharge my batteries, and get a small sample of how Kenya has changed my perceptions of things back home.

Travel, as always, was an ordeal. The notoriously unreliable train to Nairobi broke down and arrived three hours late. Later, the flight was delayed, then a passenger on board became critically ill, and we had to make an emergency landing in the Sudan. The detour into a war zone only lasted a few hours and remarkably I made it through the first leg of the flight to Amsterdam with a six hour layover still remaining.

I love Holland, and with so much time between flights I decided to leave the airport and walk through the city. I purchased a train ticket from the airport with a departure time of 8:03 and an arrival time in Amsterdam at 8:24, and was amazed to watch the second hand on the clock strike 8:03 on the dot as the train pulled into the station and opened the doors. Then, the train arrived in the city center within a few seconds of exactly 8:24. Western European transport is such a contrast from Kenya!

I spent several hours walking through the city streets of downtown Amsterdam enjoying the brisk air, the historic stone statues and buildings, and the stark contrasts between Dutch and Kenyan culture. Even though it was nine in the morning, I drank a cold Guinness, an opportunity I could not afford to miss, as they are always best when served in Europe, properly poured and on tap. I also grabbed my favorite Dutch junk food: french fries and mayonnaise. Oh, and I ate a lemon cream pastry too. I admittedly had a difficult time showing any degree of self-control the entire time I was home, something I need to do a better job with next time around.

Finally, after another connection, a delayed flight into Huntsville, and a third full day's worth of travel, I made it home. Regardless, the travel was well worth it. My two weeks in the states were the most fun I've had in a long time. Basically, it was a nonstop party with family and friends. The problems I've been facing in Kenya were starting to wear me down, and getting away for a few weeks worked wonders for my sanity and sense of purpose here.

The best part about being home was the opportunity to see the majority of my close friends and family, and my Christmas was the best I can remember since I was given my first Nintendo. For Christmas Eve, my grandmother cooked a delicious southern style holiday dinner. It was amazing and more than made up for my less than stellar Thanksgiving meal. Actually, everything I ate back home was good. I pretty much binged on all the foods I had been craving over the past year: Mexican, Italian, Thai, sugary cereal, pizza…the list goes on and on. One thing I definitely noticed is that the food in the states is heavy and rich in contrast to Kenyan village food. Everything I eat here is farm fresh, organic, and chemical free. The abrupt change in diet (as well as my lack of any kind of self control) left my stomach uneasy and me feeling a bit off-kilter the entire time I was home. I gained almost five pounds in two weeks, and made a promise to myself that I will be more careful in a year's time, when I won't be returning to Kenya to burn everything off again.

So in to Christmas: On the 23rd there was a Christmas party for my Dad's side of the family. Then, on Christmas Eve I went to three church services, a new personal record for one day. My mom had a morning and evening service and then I ran into an old friend who surprised me with a visit. He wanted to go to my previous church for the midnight mass and I decided to go along. I've never felt comfortable at a church in Kenya, as I have the uneasy feeling that I am seen as a source of funding from the entire congregation. Also, from my experiences the majority of the pastors and priests here are corrupt and manipulative. It was a refreshing change to go to a service where there were no expectations for me from the congregation and I actually felt close to God.

On Christmas Day we celebrated with my immediate family, then the day after Christmas we had a huge Christmas party for my mom’s side of the family. Sometimes I find the Christmas season a bit overwhelming, but I thoroughly enjoyed myself this year. Part of it was due to missing Christmas at home the previous year, and part of it was from my experiences in Kenya. It was difficult to appreciate just how fortunate I was until I had a chance to move away for awhile. I have a great family and a comfortable lifestyle without ever having to worry about a lack of necessities. Being in Kenya for more than a year goes a long way towards not taking that for granted.

The same newfound appreciation goes for friends as well. Catching up with them was a highpoint of my time back home. So much has changed. Some of my friends are married, some are engaged, and some have moved or changed jobs. Regardless, I was surprised to see that within a few minutes time it seemed as though I had never left. It was great to just spend some time with my guy friends especially. I’ve made some good friends in Kenya, but around Kakamega almost all the volunteers are women. It was a welcome change to relax with guys I’ve known for years and talk about just about anything.

I also had several great parties back in the states. My parents really went all out and catered a party with help from their friends. The food, as usual, was fantastic and most of my friends and much of my family managed to stop by. I had a great time seeing everyone and catching up with all the latest while sharing stories from Kenya. A few days later I had the best New Year’s party I can remember. My buddy Eric made a huge pot of jambalaya and everyone one else brought a potluck side dish. My parents graciously gave up the house and stayed up all night with my friends eating and talking over bottles of beer and champagne.

Another great part of being home was a visit from my friend Whitney from Dallas. Last August I helped her manage the eight-hour matatu ride from an orphanage in Migori to Kitale, a town near my village. We have kept in touch since and she agreed to come visit me in the states while I was home. She had good time meeting my family and friends and is planning to visit me in Kenya again in June.

Beyond parties, family, and friends I also had an interview with the Huntsville Times newspaper and a visit to ADTRAN, the company I worked at before I left for Kenya. Things there seemed to be about the same as when I left, but it was great to catch up with everyone. I enjoyed my old job but am also happy to have a chance to be doing something a bit different.

So all in all my time in the states was fantastic. When I was home I actually convinced myself that I wanted to return to work in Hunstville post-Peace Corps. It’s so nice to be close to friends and family. Now, one month later, I’m back to the swing of things in Kenya. Despite the setbacks and occasional loneliness I really do love it here. I also realize that I went to the states as a tourist. I didn’t have to worry about debt or deadlines, or long work hours and minimal vacation time. I’m worried that going back to a corporate job and the routine of life in the states will be an even more difficult transition than coming here. At the same time maintaining this kind of lifestyle means being far away from my family and closest friends. I came into Peace Corps thinking it would help me better define who I am and make sense of my life. In a way it has but at the same time it appears to be creating more choices and questions than answers.