An AIDS Book, a Soda, and Some Fried Dough

Earlier this week I was feeling frustrated with my feelings towards productivity- or rather, the lack there of. Things had slowed down after the soldiering all around town of the past two weeks. Today, however, I was quickly reminded of the impromptu nature of the working culture here, and the spontaneity of my work here. I’m a natural American- wanting everything to be done on time, on schedule, and done to perfection. My time in Paris prepared me for a bit for working in a culture where punctuality and schedules are not on the top of the priority list. As much as I was told to be prepared for a different culture of work, I still find myself often frustrated. At the same time, I have had some of the greatest moments of satisfaction and pride with my work. I have been trying to go to the population office with my boss the entire week, but extensive factors kept jumping in between me and my coveted information. First malaria (of my boss, not myself), then obligations with the other volunteers, and many appearances of “not today-tomorrow.” Well eventually tomorrow turned into today when Sussy called me around 9:00 to hurry and meet her at the population office. What I thought would be a simple interview of one individual who held these golden answers to my questions about the demographics of this little place called Kakamega turned into a wild goose chase. After the first redirection to another office, I recognized in myself an understanding and expectation of this situation. First the population office. Then the provincial office of statistics. Then the provincial planning office (still not really sure how the title corresponds to the job). Then the Provincial NACC field office (yet another questionable name). One promised information about HIV/AIDS rates, one literacy rates, and yet another GDP information…next week. After a fourth redirection, we headed to yet another office in another building of the district headquarters. Here we finally sat down in a more formal matter and explained our intentions. The woman led us to a room full of statistics, numbers, and the golden information. I wrote down number, rate, percentage, statistic, and demographic I saw and felt I was in productivity heaven. As my karmic reward for this wild goose chase, the woman at the office (Gertrude I believe) gave me a book on the Kenyan AIDS Indicator Survey to keep. Although this is not a very exciting souvenir for most, I felt like this was significant proof of my travails—and I’m not going to lie, I was pretty excited.

Kenyans joke about Kenyan time. “A Kenyan comes to a 10:00 meeting at 11:00.” To which I added, “an American comes at 9:59,” to which everyone laughed at the truth behind the joke. When making an appointment, it is critical to note that the meeting is at 2:00 pm, American time. Then people nod in understanding and the meeting quickly becomes of more importance. Although this time zone of separation may be difficult to become accustomed to, the beautiful aspects of the Kenyan work culture almost erase any frustration a researcher like myself might think of feeling. Perhaps my mzungu status gives me an advantage, but everyone I have met, interviewed, or worked with has bent over backwards to help me. I was excited about my book this morning, not because I really care to read all 324 pages about the prevalence of AIDS in Kenya (I know, it’s prevalent), but because of the kindness the book represents. This woman who I had known for approximately 2 minutes was pulling out brochures, charts, posters, books, and pamphlets with as much information as she had. Even if I hadn’t been able to find any useful information, I would have felt the day was a success, just from encountering her kindness.

I find myself often confused about what office we’re visiting, who I’m greeting, or what the purpose of these wild goose chases is, something always happens that allows me to see every piece of this complex puzzle falling into place. When we left office number 6 or 7 (I stopped counting), we ran into another man who greeted Sussy and me. Once again, I felt out of the loop-wondering how this next piece fits into the puzzle. I found out that he was Sussy’s brother in-law as he invited us to this office/shack/shop right outside the district offices. The functions of these sorts of structures are not always entirely clear, as I realized from the place that sold me my shoes (as well as sodas, candy, and your common household things-toilet paper). This place wasn’t any bigger than one car garage, but there were three people inside doing office work in the cramped space. Outside, there was a soda machine. Sussy’s brother in-law offered us sodas, so we sat down and she had a Fanta and I enjoyed a Krest. Soon, a young girl came over and gave us both a piece of mandazi wrapped in newspaper. I had just met this man and yet everyone was so happy to give us sodas and mandazis. I tried my best to finish my soda, so as not to be rude and just felt happy. A book on AIDS, a soda, and some fried dough may not seem like very much, but the generosity behind the simplicity of these items made this one morning more worthwhile than any amount of productivity I could have accomplished in your typical productivity-oriented American office.

A Racehorse Stuck Behind the Starting Gates of Time

The sound of three and a half weeks is sounding increasingly threatening. As the days continue to disappear, I am grappling with the idea of only three and a half weeks left. Having been here for over a month, I can’t imagine leaving just yet. This past month has been remarkably productive for my research. I could not be happier with how much I have accomplished with the help of both Sussy’s experience and the stamina of our legs. I have collected probably close to 100 surveys and conducted interviews, among various other research, all while trying to follow the strict guidelines of the IRB (a whole other challenge in itself). I felt as though I didn’t have time to catch my breath between the 10-12 mile walks each day for the past two weeks. Now that I feel so close to accomplishing what I set out to do I can see this project really taking form and coming to life. The research truly speaks for itself and with my newfound knowledge, the process of writing conclusion and the rest of my thesis seems much less daunting (and maybe even a bit exciting—but that’s just my nerdy self talking).

While I feel proud of all that I have accomplished, each additional minute here is accompanied by the yearning to do more. Now that I finally have been able to take a breath of relief, I have unconsciously allowed other previously repressed thoughts come to mind. I know that the work here I have done already will eventually, maybe indirectly, help the people I am working with through the knowledge it will hopefully give them. I still cannot help but feel anxious, restless, and nothing other than antsy about every idle minute I spend here. I almost feel like a racehorse at the starting gate, clamoring for the doors to open and to let out all of my pent-up energy. It’s hard to explain or understand where this energy comes from. Perhaps it’s from the years of my interest in the problems throughout Africa, or maybe it’s from all of the things I’ve studied about, but probably it’s from the pure inspiration of simply living in this place. Being surrounded by the problems of Kakamega and the need of the people, is inspiration enough to want to develop a grand world-saving scheme, but I think moreso the idea of working with the people here to find a sustainable solution and the world of endless possibilities is what drives my energy. It seems like everywhere you look there are possibilities to work with the community to better itself. Whether through infrastructure development, improving income-generating vocational skills, educational empowerment, or resource building, there never seems to be an end to the opportunities.

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.