The Foolish Mzungu in a Cornfield and the Magic of Ja Rule

Time truly flies when you forget to pay attention. Three weeks in, and I feel like I’m really finally accomplishing what I set out to do. I got my first taste of first-hand research these past few days, and it really was so exciting and very inspiring. I am relieved that I am actually accomplishing so much at work because the days seem to be vanishing before they even appear. I had a feeling that by this point in time the days would be slipping right through my fingers. Every new experience and every new adventure especially in a place as far away as Kenya starts off so slowly, where every day feels like a lifetime. Initially, you can recite every detail of the day as if each hour is merely a single page in a book. At this point though, things are familiar and I have a fairly standard routine. It’s at this time that you tend to forget about the ever-moving hands of time and things just keep happening without you taking any notice. For this reason, I’m really going to make a concerted effort to notice the small details, remember the momentary feelings, revel in the small accomplishments, and allow the newness of the experience to remain with me for as long as possible.

Last Friday was really when the progress began, but my day on Thursday was too hysterical and honestly, kind of pathetic, not to mention. First, Sussy and I went off to two schools to speak to them about surveying the students and teachers. We left around 9 am, but by around 9:15 I realized that I was getting some huge and not so friendly blisters on my left foot. I understood that I already looked strange enough, being a blonde-hair, blue-eyed mzungu and all, so I figured that no matter what else I did I really couldn’t look much stranger. So I wrapped the strap of my shoe in a napkin- very fashionable for sure. Shortly thereafter, the strap on my right shoe broke! At this point, Sussy and I were in the middle of a cornfield (read-middle of nowhere) and I had a broken shoe and a shoe wrapped in napkin paper- makes for a ridiculous image. Miraculously Sussy knew of a shack near the edge of the field that sells sodas, candy, and apparently shoes. I only had 200 Kenyan shillings (about $2.50) but I was desperate for some new shoes so I asked the woman for the cheapest shoes she had. Luckily, I got some really stylish white shoes for 150 shillings. After about another 30 minutes, my luck continued when I realized I had huge blisters on the other foot. Then I tripped on a rock and fell on my face. It was hysterically pathetic. After walking around for three hours and speaking with two schools, we headed back. I later visited Shieywe Secondary school and distributed permission forms to have the girls get their parents to sign. I spoke to them about the focus group we would be having next week and they all seemed excited. On the way home, my luck persevered yet again as it looked as though it was about to pour. You can always tell when the African rains are coming. First, the skies erupt with angry dark gray clouds that make you believe the rain is soon coming. However, it stays like this for at least an hour before there is any actual rain. Then the wind blows a very cold chill right through you. It sort of feels as though a tornado is about to come. Then, you start to see the drops. So this is where I was when I still had about 20 minutes until I reached home. Unfortunately, I didn’t even have enough money for a boda boda home (20 shillings- about 25 cents) so when it started raining, I started running. Soon, I was the strange mzungu running through the streets in the rain with her backpack and glaringly white shoes while all the Africans were under their stands literally yelling, “run, mzungu, run.” To which I answered, “I am!” The best part of the situation was the fact that my entire 10 minute run I was singing Toto’s haunting song “I bless the rains down in Africa…” while reminding myself that I, in fact, did NOT bless the rains in Africa at that particular point in time. The irony was all too much.

After my run of bad luck on Thursday, I think someone was looking out for me on Friday. Sussy and I went to an all boys boarding school where we had scheduled to distribute the surveys. Upon arrival, we met with the principal, who actually grilled me with questions. They were all very relevant questions, but I really wasn’t expecting such an interrogation. He asked things like, ‘if your research entails perceptions of women’s education, how will this research help our school of all boys?’ Luckily, I have been working on this subject for long enough that I didn’t even really need to think to answer most of the questions he threw at me. Afterwards, the counselor led us to his office and he went to distribute the surveys. As they came back, I began to read some of the responses. It was a wonderful moment. I had finally created my research tools, distributed them, and I had feedback! I had real information and real responses. It also blew my mind to think that my ideas and my work were having an impact on students in Kenya, even if that impact was only reading and filling out a survey. They were still spending their time on my research. What was even more shocking was the variety of responses I received. While some of the responses to the question about educated women were extraordinarily heart-warming and encouraging, others were beyond unexpected and shocking. Reading that some boys still feel that a woman’s role is to eat and give birth was unnerving. Although times are changing here, they are certainly not yet changed.

On Monday I visited another school and distributed more surveys to be picked up this Friday. Afterwards I prepared for my first interview on Tuesday. When I arrived at work on Tuesday morning, we promptly left for my interview with the head of the Department of Adult Education. I left fully prepared with my list of questions in hand and two volunteers to video tape. The interview went really well and I found that I was really comfortable speaking with the woman. I think that because I am so interested in this topic and have studied it for so long, all of my nerves were dispelled. I found out some very useful information and felt so accomplished afterwards that I just wanted to yell out to all of Kakamega about my excitement and sense of accomplishment. This interview was followed shortly by an impromptu interview with another man in the office.

It really seems as though “Kenyan time” extends far beyond the actual delayed clock which this country runs on. While it is typical for someone to show up to a 9am meeting at 9:30 or so, this time seems to pervade deep into the mindset of Kenyans. Maybe it is the environment that creates this atmosphere, or perhaps it is ingrained into the culture. My interview was conducted in a concrete building with no electricity or air-conditioning and an opening in the cement posed as the window. No computers, no fancy gadgets, just people in a building. Furthermore, I have noticed that when we want to get something done, we just do it. No need to book an appointment or call to arrange a time to meet with someone. We simply march ourselves 15, 30, 45 minutes to our destination, introduce our business, and we are warmly and happily greeted.

It has really been something else doing my research this way. When I’m out “in the field,” I’m often literally in a field. Trudging through cornfields, through grass pastures, on dirt roads, through the forest, but always walking in the trail of dust the bodabodas leave behind. It’s a funny picture when I think about myself from a bird’s eye view: a probably over-ambitious blonde hair, blue-eyed white girl trudging through the dusty cornfield-- backpack on tightly, surveys in hand, and with the hope of finding even the smallest bit of useful information.

Nearly every day I make a mental note about what my host family thinks is strange about myself- and likewise, I note what I find strange about them. Most recently, my family has found my liking for water, exercise, corn with dinner (as opposed to dessert or breakfast), dinner before 9:30 pm, and peanut butter on a banana absolutely hysterical. My sister, Irene, has even jokingly threatened me against drinking water, telling me that it is prohibited. She contends that I would be able to eat more if I drank less water. My family also finds my distaste for 4 cups of milky tea per day, absurdly large dinners at 9:30pm, every food imaginable “deep fried,” and of course WWE wrestling absolutely shocking. I have learned to agree with them upon many things though, such as the true entertainment value in “En Nombre Del Amor”- a Spanish soap opera which the family never misses (and rightly so). Additionally, we share a liking of really stereotypical 90s music, like the good old Backstreet Boys and Celine Dion. In a world where nearly everything feels so foreign, singing together with my Kenyan brother and sister to some of JoJo and Ja Rule’s finest works made me believe that perhaps our cultures, as well as our paths which had led us all to that same moment, aren’t nearly as different as they are made out to be.

Our Bubble of Excellence

It’s a funny thing—how much of a self-contained bubble Duke is. While most of its students are out “in the field” in developing countries like Haiti, Uganda, Nicaragua, and of course Kenya, I find myself occasionally stuck in the mindset associated with this self-contained bubble. While Duke has most definitely expanded my view on many international issues and has opened my eyes to unimaginable experiences, it has also led me to have a very skewed view of what is “normal.” This is because Duke students are far from “normal.” For us, normal is travelling to these underdeveloped countries, living amongst struggle and poverty, and engaging in various research and community development projects. It is normal for me to have friends currently in South Africa, Egypt, Nicaragua, Uganda, and Tanzania, as well as friends in Italy, the United Kingdom, Israel, and Costa Rica (and I actually do have friends in all of these places at this very moment). And all of these friends are interning, researching, and creating sustainable community development, like myself. Therefore, I find that it is easy for me to fall into this mindset that what I am doing is as well, “normal.” It’s easy to feel that I am only one of over 300 DukeEngage students living throughout the world, doing essentially what I’m doing. Additionally, I am with a group of five other students here. We are all living and working here. It is during thoughts like this that I must remind myself just how few these 300 DukeEngage students are in our growing world. That we are not, by most standards, “normal” and what we are doing is not average. At times, when people would react in shock and amazement about this journey I was about to embark on, I could not help but think of the other hundreds of students like myself travelling on a similar journey. This is not necessarily a bad way of thinking, as it really raises our standards of normal and what we should be doing with our lives. It opens many more doors of possibilities and inspires us to do things that we would have otherwise thought impossible. We dream bigger because of the lofty goals of our peers and we are more confident we will achieve anything and everything, because of the successes of those peers. However, at times like these when I find myself in the midst of an ambitious research project of gender parity in education in the cornfields of a remote, rural, and strikingly underdeveloped town in Kenya, I must remind myself that my life and these goals are not “normal”- they are incredible. And this is thanks to Duke, and its bubble of excellence.

When all you can do is laugh

I have recently realized this feeling that I have been experiencing for the past few days. I hadn’t been able to identify exactly what this feeling was or what the source of it was, but as I was walking through town today, feeling it more strongly than ever, I realized exactly what it is. I have realized that the longer I am here, the closer I am to the starting line. Consequently, the closer I get to the starting line, the further away I am from the finish line. When I came, I knew I would experience poverty and need in a way that I never had before, however, I thought of the need as an entire entity. That need and poverty are simply need and poverty and the work I’m doing will hopefully eventually address that need and poverty. But that’s not really the case. As my time here progresses, I realize that poverty is all of the hungry children I meet on the street everyday in tattered school uniforms; it is the girls in the prison asking me to bring them paper, books, pencils, soap and sewing machines for when they are released; it is the notes in broken English given to us by children begging us for help to fulfill their dreams; it is the woman on the street walking in clothes made entirely of bags whom I pass by every day on my way to work; it is the women at Project Africa who have been beaten by their cheating husbands and who ask us to buy them more sewing machines to become financially independent; it is the babies who run around in soiled clothing because their mothers can’t afford diapers; it is women who sit in the market all day begging me to come in and buy their fruit at a price lower than imaginable. It is all of these individual cases of need that create poverty. So my overwhelming feeling that is helplessness stems from the realization of my inability to address all of these needs in this immediate moment, or even by the time I leave to my privileged life at home. I imagine that any trip to such a developing place like this would cause some sort of feelings of helplessness and guilt for your inability to help everyone right now, but I didn’t really see it coming.

This is not to say that I am not optimistic about the work I’m doing here, and the progress this community can and will make in the coming years, but it’s a feeling that never really goes away. And every day I meet someone else, with a new need. The most frustrating part is that I know I could give away all of my money and resources to those who ask me for them, and would accomplish very little to address all of these needs.

Despite this slightly discomforting realization, this week so far has been exciting in many ways. Sunday was a usual casual day in which my family didn’t do much other than sleep, cook, and watch wrestling (or telenovellas… El Nobre Del Amor is actually mesmerizingly interesting, no jokes). I did get to explore the giant cornfields behind my house with my friend who’s actually my neighbor. On Monday, we got two new volunteers from America. So now there are 5 volunteers, 2 staff members, about 25 women in the program and myself. Most of the day I worked on revising my thesis work, but in the afternoon we all visited the Remand Home. The girls seemed a bit tired again, but at the end of the class we had a wonderful time. The girls love when we sing to them, so we did per usual. After a few attempted songs, the girls started singing a song in Swahili where they all clap and sing a name. Before long we were all dancing, clapping and singing in a circle. All of the girls were laughing and I was having a great time. I think we were all so caught up in the moment that none of us realized how much noise we were making until we stopped and heard the silence. It was a wonderful moment of a good connection.

On Tuesday we visited a prison to see what the adult education programs are like in prison. We spoke with some young women who were in a social studies class. At first they were reserved, but eventually they delved into many questions. Most of them asked about the university system in America. Unfortunately, others asked us to buy them sewing machines when they got out of prison or pens and paper for them. It was difficult to not be able to promise anything or to magically produce a sewing machine on the spot either.

Today, I met again with the head of the Department of Adult Education and I finally set up my first interview! I am thrilled to have made a first concrete step towards collecting research. It has been difficult to create a schedule with Susy, since she has been busy with all of the new volunteers. I have also reserved next Wednesday to conduct the young mothers discussion group to ask questions regarding my research. It’s a bit of a relief to finalize some plans and feel like finally some of my work may be coming to some sort of fruition.

In our young mothers discussion group we focused on relationships. As usual, the conversation diverged quickly to what the women wanted to discuss, which in this case was homosexuality. Most were very reserved about the topic and some timidly asked a few questions. I have really noticed here the importance of humor and especially laughter. It seems whenever a situation is uncomfortable or when someone is trying to make a connection, they use laughter. For example, none of the women could ask a question in all seriousness about homosexuality without interrupting every sentence with an outburst of laughter. And once one woman laughs, the whole room explodes with uncomfortable laughter. Clearly, the women were not very comfortable with the topic, but they managed to get out a few questions so long as they were concealed by laughter and the question itself was barely audible. Their views about homosexuality were of course that it is wrong because of the Bible and Christianity. All who spoke up agreed that it should be illegal. Their explanations as to why ranged from the idea that every part of human anatomy has its specified function to because that is what is in the Bible and that’s just what God says. As much as they were against the idea of homosexuality, they seemed awfully curious.

I have also noticed that laughter is used in forming relationships. When you are meeting someone for a specific reason, you usually try to joke with the person for a few minutes before talking about anything serious. I am having trouble having one of my host sisters warm up to me, but the only time I feel a sort of connection is when I make a joke and we are both laughing. My other host sister jokes that the only exercise she needs is walking and laughing, and she only does a lot of the latter.

In the midst of all the poverty, abuse, and uncomfortable situations, perhaps the only thing to do is laugh. Whether it’s a coping mechanism or a medicine, maybe I should take a cue from the Kenyans and just laugh it off.

Stuck in the middle

One week down and six more ahead of me. I am now writing from Kakamega Golf Hotel-- a very nice, but extremely touristy hotel with free wireless internet and a pool (a rarity in Kakamega). My group and I have just finished our first weekly meeting with FSD where we reflected on our week and had a workshop on grant writing. So now, we all decided it would be enjoyable and appropriate to head to this touristy hotel to get internet, while listening to Africa by Toto, of course, just to add a bit more authenticity. Oddly enough, I feel like right now exemplifies the situation in Kakamega perfectly. In many aspects, town is a vivid and startling representation underdevelopment, poverty as well as tradition and culture. Quite contrastingly though, there are also significant signs of urbanization, globalization (mostly Americanization) and development. As I sit at this more luxurious hotel typing away on my laptop and sipping my Coca Cola light, it's easy to lose sight of where I am and the poverty just outside the gates. It seems to just go to show you that no place is easily classifiable and Kakamega is no exception--a place on the road to urbanization out of poverty, but stuck somewhere in the middle.

The end of the week was much slower than the beginning as I saw a glimpse of what the typical Kenyan work ethic and work attitude is like. To my slight dissapointment, much of the time was spent sitting around, talking, or even sleeping! I didn't know what my "bosses" were up to for much of the time which was a bit disconcerting. When I spoke with my friends though, they told me that that mentality seemed to be the case at their work as well. It seems that people take a more relaxed approach to work, often taking two or three half hour tea breaks and coming and going as they please. Despite this new approach to work, I did enjoy many inspiring experiences throughout the end of the week.

On Wednesday, Project Africa holds a discussion group for the young mothers and women of our sewing and computer training classes. There were about 13 women in attendance and their ages ranged from sixteen years old to 31. The topic of our discussion had been planned to be violence against women, however the discussion quickly evolved into more of what the women felt fit. It was difficult to get many of the women to speak at all, and the volunteers and I relied on the assistence of Susy to translate and facilitate the discussion. The conversation soon turned into one of the most disillusioning conversations I have had in a while. The topic of violence against women seemed to be uninspiring to the women and they didn't have much to say. I soon realized that the reason for this is that abuse is a common occurance in many of their lives. When we spoke about the strikingly high statistics about rape and abuse, the women simply laughed. They thought it was comical that we were so surprised by this. It was hard to tell if they were simply ashamed by their situation and uncomfortable with the discussion, but later conversations led me to believe otherwise. When we spoke about polygamy, the older women were convinced that their husbands have the right to marry whomever else they please without the consent of their current wives. They said that women should submit to men because we are the subordinate sex. When I asked why they believed this, they referenced the Bible. They were shocked to learn of some American relationship culture--that women can date multiple men at a time before committing to one, and that a boyfriend would sleep at his girlfriend's parent's house, and that an unmarried couple would live together in an apartment. What was so amazing about that experience was the rawness of their answers. It is one thing to read about the belief in polygamy, rape, and violence against women, but it is completely different to put a face to those views. These were women who I had talked to before and were by no means completely backwards women, the type you would associate with an acceptance of abuse from their spouse. I am excited to hold a discussion group with them for my research about their opinion on gender inequality in education. At the end of the day we visited an orphanage where another intern in my group works. We brought colored pencils and paper for the children and they were incredibly happy to be able to write and draw. The orphanage was run by nuns and seemed fairly well-kept, although it was apparent that the place was not very sanitary.

On Thursday we started the day by visiting the Ramand Children's Home again. This time, we discussed early pregnancy. The girls were less enthusiastic this time, which was a bit disappointing. Although they were tired and distracted, they were polite as always and participated in the discussion. The rest of the day was rather slow until we went to the Shiewye Secondary School. We were a bit tired from all of the walking (about 15,000 steps to be exact- my friend has a pedometer on her phone) on the dirt and rocky roads and I was unsure of what to expect when we met the girls. To my pleasant surprise, the girls were wonderful. My experience talking with them was so different from my conversation with the older women that I had to take notice. The discussion was on the same topic, however this time the girls had much more to say about it. Although some girls still contended that men have the right to force sex on their wives and beating is merely a way to teach a wife to act correctly, the majority opposed those traditional views. One girl in particular spoke up that women should make their own money, be financially independent, and should leave their husbands if they are being beaten. She was very adament that she would leave any man who abused her, take her children, become rich, and rub it in his face. It was refreshing to listen to her and the contrast between these teenage girls and the older women was apparent. Inspired, I realized what a perfect asset these girls would be for my research.

It seems that the pieces are all falling into place. This first week of mere observation is finally over and now I'm ready to delve into my research. At times, it was frustrating feeling so unproductive, but other times I was overwhelmed with inspiration. I have been researching literature on gender inequality in Kenya for months, and to get at the heart of these issues is eye-opening. I now face many challenges of how to acquire an accurate representation of these issues, and I know many more challenges lie ahead of me. However, the prospect of hearing the voices of these women straight from the heart of the problem encourages me to find solutions and continue. I only hope that I can be the voice of these women--whether they be sixteen or sixty, traditionally oriented or forward looking, whether they believe that forced sex from their husband isn't rape or they believe in leaving a marriage at a hint of abuse, their beliefs are important. These women are Kakamega, Kenya, and Africa.

Comfort at the convenience store

The time is flying here in Kenya. It seems as though every day is a huge adventure and I feel I could write a novel about every day. It is now Tuesday night and I finally have some sort of routine that I think I can get used to. I am starting to feel less and less like a mzungu, but this will definitely be a timely process. My first week in Kenya ended with a very cultural Sunday. Although it was the fourth of July, I found myself completely immersed in an entirely new world like never before. The day started by going to church with my host sister, Irene. We took boda bodas to church, which always seems to be an experience in itself- between trying to stay on the bike and hearing people yell "mzungu" at you every other instant. Once at church, I found myself in a situation I had never been in and could never have imagined. In this Catholic church there was praying, extensive singing, clapping, communion, 400 Kenyans and one white American girl. Although most of the procession was similar to that of a Catholic church at home, it certainly didn't feel like home. It was so incredible to feel as though I was really at the heart of the culture and the people. Looking around the room, I knew that was a sight I would not soon forget.

The rest of the day, the family slept and watched TV. It seems as though when Kenyans rest, they mean business. From my experiences at work and at home, rest is very important to Kenyan life. After resting for a bit, we cooked lunch for about two hours. Kenyans also love oil. So when I say lunch, I mean fried eggs and fries.

Monday came and it was time for work. I took a boda boda into town, filled with both excitement and anxiety. I came here with goals and a real desire to get at the heart of the issues that interest me. If I am to get what I want, it will be done at work, so I felt like a lot was riding on my work experience.

I work at a large house, called the Mission House. The house is complete with bedrooms, a kitchen, and a family room and is very nice to Kenyan standards. I met with two volunteers, one from Finland and one from Sweden who had both been there a few weeks and who live at the house. I was introduced to the women outside in the sewing class. There were about eight of them, some with children and some without but none married. I felt a bit out of place as the director left me to speak with them, yet their english skills left much to be desired. I was unsure of what was appropriate to ask them and the whole language barrier made things challenging. After that I went into the computer "class" which is essentially three computers and three women trying to learn Microsoft programs. It seems as though the directors want me to help out with the computer class, but I'll have to explain to them that I'm not here to teach Microsoft Word skills, alhtough I'm happy to help out now and then.

In the afternoon we visited the Ramand Children's Home. Here, the two volunteers teach girls from 12-16 important lessons like anger management and conflict solving. All of the children here are child offenders who are awaiting a court date. I was a little taken aback when someone explained that two of the girls we were teaching have been accused of murder, one of her own child. To my surprise, most of the girls were extremely happy and completely wonderful. They loved working with us and diligently took notes. They were of course so interested in the American and asked about my family, Obama, what food I like, if I'm married or have a boyfriend, etc. It was really a shame to think about the things these girls did, as it's clear that they are just a product of their environment. Most came from horrible homes and were caught in the wrong place at the wrong time, or some simply ran away from home and school. We ended the lesson by a song of choice from the girls, "if you're happy and you know it"-- an interesting choice I thought from child offenders accused of horrendous crimes and living in a children's home without family. After the lesson, we noticed some boys singing hymns and dancing in the courtyard. We all joined in singing, clapping, and dancing. The girls translated to me what they were singing, most of which was about how God will bring them peace and how they will find happiness with God.

At home, I shared my day with Irene as we all cooked dinner. It was such an intersting time as we cooked ugali and sukuma wiki while listening to Ja Rule, Ashlee Simpson, Celine Deon, and Shakira. We all sang along and I felt as though I was a part of the family. I couldn't help but laugh to myself about what music they listen to, it felt kind of like a flashback to the 90s.

Today at work started off with another visit to the Ramand Home. Afterwards, our director met us and seemed to be leading us all over town and I was really clueless to the point of this seemingly endless adventure. Finally we arrived in the office of the Department of Adult Education. It was perfect. I felt as though I was watching my thesis paper write itself as we talked with the woman in charge. She runs a program with adults who previously dropped out of school and are now receiving their education in hopes of being financially self-sufficient. This was just what I was looking for as I asked her about issues of gender inequality in education and why these women dropped out of school in the first place. She touched on the tradition of a valued male education and the lack of value of women's education. She also talked about how this is changing because of various women's empowerment movements. I can't wait to speak with her again and speak with these women. I finally felt like I had a breakthrough and saw something that could actually help me with my work.

Next we visiting the Muslim primary and secondary school. We met with about 20 girls and spoke to them about adolescence. It has been a really interesting experience working with the 29 year old Swedish volunteer and the 22 year old Finnish volunteer. In our free time, we talk about our countries and I feel as though I am really getting a multi-cultural experience.

After work I have been meeting up with my friends to talk and unwind at Nakumat--the local Target. We all buy soda and sit around and talk about our days and what we are experiencing. It is so nice to see everyone and really feel a bit of comfort and home, even if it is at the local convenience store.

Straight from the cow

Habari yako? Nzuri sana! As of this afternoon, I am now a member of the Aluko family—a very large and extended family. I finally moved in with my host family this afternoon after a final morning breakfast at the hotel. When I arrived at the Aluko residence, which was not very far from our hotel, my friends from the program and I couldn’t help but notice how large and out of place this home is. We drove through large gates opened by a “herdboy” and pulled up to a house much larger than I was expected. When inside, I was greeted by Irene, the 26 year old daughter. She led me to my room, a smaller room, but one with two beds and a closet for my things. She brought me some juice and left me to myself. I was a bit out of my element, as I was not sure what was proper for me to do at that time. I had just been briefly welcomed into their home, and then Irene led me to my room and shut the door. After thinking for a while about the best choice of action, I decided to venture out into the house. No one was around. I saw a small boy sitting on the couch in the living room watching TV..yes, they have television, and a huge sound system to go with it. I said hi and tried to strike up conversation, but he was very shy. Then Ainee, the 21 year old daughter, came and watched TV with us. I tried talking to her as well, but I noticed a pattern when she seemed disinterested in talking with me. She said I could look around the house so I walked outside the front yard to find a litter of seven adorable puppies (which the entire family call “ugly”). In the backyard I saw cows, sheep, chicken, and many other unidentifiable farm animals. I definitely thought to myself, this is not a normal household. When I ran into Irene, she asked if I had milked a cow before. Perhaps it is uncommon for someone to not have milked a cow before in Kenya? She explained that we were going to watch the farmhelp milk a cow and then we were going to make chai tea..with the milk. Once we got the milk, we boiled it, added a bit of water, then some tea leaves and spices, and drank it. Straight from the cow. The milk was from the cow and to my mouth without even passing go. I was a bit apprehensive about the tea, however, I really want to immerse myself and try all of the culture here, so I drank it. It tasted relatively normal, but there was a twinge of nausea after every sip. Perhaps the nausea came though because she demonstrating how to properly cut up (read-massacre) a chicken as I sipped my tea. She was making dinner, and wanted to show me how it was done, which I really did appreciate. I helped her with the sukuma wiki—basically a huge leafy plant and tried to help a little with the ugali—which was obviously served, per usual. We had ugali, cooked sukuma wiki with other vegetables, chicken (kuku) and rice. At dinner, only the children ate at the table (the children being the 24 year old son, the 26 and 21 year old daughters, and the farmboy). Dinner was very strange to me and the culture difference was apparent. The dinner table was essentially mute. After a prayer, everyone began to eat in silence. They eat with their hands, so I felt a bit uncomfortable eating with a fork and knife. I tried the hand approach, but it just wasn't really my style. Maybe eventually I'll be better at it. It was strange that no one talked, and I wasn't sure if that is how meals usually are of if it was just because I was there. I talked a bit with the boys once the sisters left to clean dishes. They asked a few questions, like if we have ugali back home, and what I think of their country. It was nice to have some sort of talking after a totally silent dinner. Irene served dinner to her grandparents (98 and 84) in their room and to her parents in the family room. I got a huge welcome from both of her parents when they arrived, and they were impressed by my really little knowledge of Kiswahili.

After dinner, the family was very interested in watching wrestling. I literally could not keep my eyes open (and my aversion to WW wrestling didn’t help) and I fell asleep in the chair. When I returned from my nice and hot shower, the family was watching the world cup. We chatted a bit and then I headed to my room. All in all, I have learned a lot already about Kenyan culture. For one, they are not warm at first. I had trouble feeling welcome from the children when I first arrived, but now that Irene and I are closer, she is really taking care of me. Once Kenyans develop a relationship with you, it seems they are very warm and even touchy. Tomorrow we leave for church at 8am, as it is a 30 minute walk to town. I’m sure I’ll be awoken by roosters and cows tomorrow morning, but I am so looking forward to a nice sleep, be it in my mosquito netted bed. Although this house is nowhere near what would be considered a nice house in the states, it really feels like the lap of luxury to me. I was totally prepared for pit latrines and bucket showers, but I will not complain about this hand of cards that was dealt to me. I hope to get to know the family a bit better over the coming weeks, but I think it takes time for Kenyans to really open up and develop relationships with people. What a day it has been of learning about the Kenyan way. It seems like it has been a dose of culture, coming straight from the cow.

The end of the beginning

What exciting and busy past few days these have been! I just finished a meeting with the organization that I will be working with and now I finally have a better glimpse of what my time here will be like. Our time at the hotel and in our group is coming to a close, and soon we will be thrown out on our own to thrive in these Kenyan streets. We move into our new home tomorrow morning and we start work on Monday.

These past two days have been filled with traditional Kenyan culture. More and more I feel like I am understanding the way of life in Kenya, although I know I still have a lot to learn. It really will take time to understand the people and what is socially acceptable. It feels like the town of Kakamega is its own world, small enough where everyone has the same understanding of what life is and a similar connection with everyone, yet big enough that there are distinguishable parts of town and ways of life. What I found most interesting today were the people on the streets. There is such diversity on the streets in terms of class and wealth. Some people are poor, maybe homeless or maybe disabled. They sit on the sides of the streets and many sell fruit or old clothing. Then right beside them, there are men in suits and jackets, clearly on their way to work and clearly more wealthy. The interesting part is that these men and women walk the same streets and pass each other on the same routes, however their lives appear very different.

There were a lot of firsts these past two days. Yesterday we spent the majority of the day at the hotel in training sessions. In the morning, we "learned" Swahili...or as much as you can learn in about 3 hours. The language is much less complicated than languages I've studied before, but I have a long way to go before I understand what people on the streets are saying. We had some more training during the day, about our work and asset mapping and needs assessment. At dinner, we had our first taste of the infamous ugali. I would describe ugali as sandpie. It looks like a giant pie of sand, and it really does not taste much better either. It holds together sort of like playdo, and you are expected to mold it into a spoon-like shape to scoop up the food. We ate it with chicken and some green things (maybe cooked spinach?). This morning we had another essential Kenyan food: chai. Chai is essentially a chai tea latte, but it is something that Kenyans love. Breakfast is usually chai with some bread, and chai is always had throughout the day. After our first cup, we have all become addicted. After perhaps a few too many cups of chai, we headed to town to run some errands as a group and then we headed to the FSD office to learn about safety as well as Kenyan culture. Our two Kenyan program directors told us about the food, the clothing style, and the political history of Kenya. We learned that if you wear skirts above the knee, you may be attacked by groups of women accusing you of stealing their husbands. Our director finished this off by telling us that Kenya is, "a rock-throwing country"...reassuring. After this orientation, we went to a restaurant and had vegetable curry with chiapati (essentially Indian naan). It was delicious, as is most food aside from the sandpie ugali. I am enjoying the food now while we are still at the hotel, because I'm sure once I move into my homestay I won't be enjoying the same type of food!

The most exciting part of the day was meeting my host organization. Although we were all exhausted from walking through town all day, we were anxious to meet with our organizations. I'll be working with Project Africa, a women's empowerment group that works with young mothers and school children. As I met Suzie and Violet, I had many questions. I think they had trouble understanding me, as I don't have a Kenyan accent on my English, but we got along fine. They told me about the projects they are working on-- teaching young women to sew and to use computers, mentoring secondary school children and primary school children, creating a penpal system with Kenyan children to America, and having reflection sessions with young mothers about the challenges they face as mothers, women, and as educated individuals. I told them about the research I was interested in as well as the surveys and focus groups I would like to do, and they were more than happy to work with me on that. After we talked about business matters, they asked some personal questions which I thought were very interesting. Suzie is definitely a strong women who is passionate about her work and about women's empowerment, and her questions were interesting. She asked about Florida, what we eat, about my family, and she also asked if there are a lot of black people in Florida, if there are a lot of "gays" and lesbians, and how do we know if they are gay. She also explained to me that a lot of men don't like their work, because the men want to be empowered, yet Project Africa turns them away. She spoke about issues of gender inequality in education, and why men's education is valued more than women's. I am so excited to start working with them and really getting to the root of these issues. Tonight is our last night in the hotel as we are dropped off with our host family tomorrow morning. I am anxious to meet the entire family and see what the home is like. They have had other FSD interns before, so I'm sure they know what to expect, however, I don't! The home probably won't be as nice as our hotel now is, but I am looking forward to an authentic Kenyan home and experience. I have noticeSaving...d that there really is a very different mentality about the people here, a sort of energy that is contagious and a humor that is pervasive. There is also a touch of sarcasm and hardness to everybody, but maybe that hardness is just an inaccurate perception from myself as a mzungu. Although I know I will always be an obvious mzungu that the children naturally point, stare, and laugh at, I look forward to the day where I understand the minds of Kenyans and become less of a mzungu at heart.