light is the darkness most feared

reverse racism.

this blog post might sound a little negative, in fact maybe even a lot negative. I don’t want anyone to get the wrong idea, I am loving being in Africa; it’s just ticked over a whole month I’ve been here and I’ve already had some incredible experiences that I will never forget. but there are a few things that are really starting to piss me off. and I don’t even know if ‘reverse racism’ works as a phrase, but it’s what I’m sticking with..

1. being called mzungu by an adult
so I wrote a little while ago about how cute it was when I first arrived being called mzungu by people. I knew then that it means white person, but it’s taken me this long to be annoyed by it. it likely that I’m just being intolerant, but I’m sorry mr kenyan man, if you came to my country and I shouted at you “hey black man!” every time you walked down the street, I don’t think you’d like it either. it’s cute when kids do it because kids are cute, kids stare, kids know when people look different. kids also don’t know any better. but adults do.

2. being overcharged everything because I am a mzungu
seriously? lets just say you came to my country and I looked at the colour of your skin and decided because you’re black I could charge you double on public transport… would that be fair? no. I’d probably get fined some obscene amount, would prison even be an option? so don’t bloody try and charge me double what you charge native kenyans for a matatu (local bus) ride. arseholes. even the locals don’t agree with it, proof that there’s still some nice people left in the world.

3. being called “monkey queen” in swahili.
happened as I’m walking in the slums with kids from ray of hope school, here they live. what the fuck? you adults think its a good idea to degrade your own people by calling them monkeys and therefore that makes me the monkey queen? one of the older students who came walking with us translated it for me, telling me that the people saying it were trying to offend me. well mate, you did a pretty shit job but you managed to call your people monkeys – looks like eddie mcguire would fit in pretty well in kenya (aka obviously it’s not that big of a deal to call someone an ape)

4. purposely avoiding eye contact
I also posted a little while ago about how I never look at the ground when I walk, but since being in kenya I sort of have to as I never know what I’ll step on next. well I’m also doing it now because if you make eye contact with someone, you can get a lot more unwanted attention than necessary. they try to sell you stuff, try to bring you to their stall, try and push you into their matatu, just wanting your attention basically.

it all comes back to being a mzungu and being/looking different. I get that as a white person in a predominately black country, it is probably a little strange for the kenyans and often even a little exciting. but there’s ways to be excited about seeing people who look different than you without being racist. the kids I don’t even mind about, they are too young and innocent to know differently. but it’s the adults, the adults who have been educated and should know basic human decency.

I’ve never felt like more of a ‘minority’ since being in kenya, even with 100 other volunteers floating around nairobi.

let’s call this my two month travel-blues post.

but, you have to have the bad to appreciate the good. and there has been shitloads of good in africa (safari post coming up next!)

these days turned out nothing like I’d planned

ray of hope; an informal bridging school for kids who never had the chance to go to school (either because they’re street kids or from the slums, or because they are HIV positive and their parents have passed away or abandoned them) and teachers are working out of the goodness of their hearts to try and stop the ever-growing number of street kids and thugs on the streets, then to bring them to a level where they’ll be able to go to formal school (with sponsorship). our mentor from the HIV clinic, vincent, has a lot to do with this school and its attached clinic, so he brought us here.

the feel of this place is incredible; there are about 45 kids in the junior class and maybe about 35 in the senior class. the ages of the junior class are between 2.5 and 6 years old, while the older class are between 7 and 17 years. there’s been a huge teacher strike in kenya since I’ve been here and these kids have come to love school so much, they don’t want to miss out – so they come here. at least that’s how it is for the senior class. the seniors have all been ‘sponsored’ by people who have come to visit the school and have fallen in love with what the teachers are doing to get kids off the streets. so usually they aren’t at the school as they have proper school to attend but they do come to ray of hope on saturdays. it costs about $500 a year to send one of these kids to school a year; inclusive of uniforms, textbooks, exercise books, stationary, transport and food.

the juniors, however, only just got ‘recruited’ in may of this year. I say recruited because the majority of the kids are from the surrounding slum or from the streets, some are orphans, some live with relatives, some are HIV+, but the teachers went out looking for kids to start school – to get them out of the environment at home & to give them a fighting chance at having an education. I’ve even visited the slums where these kids live, I honestly cannot believe the horrible start to life some of the kids have had. it brings me to tears hearing the stories of how the father of the two youngest girls (twins) in the junior class tried to poison and kill them so he didn’t have to take care of them as their mother had already done a runner on them. these poor girls were hospitalised and luckily the teachers at the school were recommended to go and literally save them from would have ultimately been what would kill them.

before going here for the first time, vincent mentioned that these 45 kids just started in the junior class and that they don’t have exercise books or pencils just yet, so if we were in a financial position to, it would be really appreciated if we could donate anything that could help out. so mike (canada), hajime (japan) and myself went and bought exercise books, pencils, sharpeners, erasers, rulers, scissors and coloured pencils… all the things that a child should have when they start school. in fact I couldn’t help but think of how lucky I was to have books and stationary when I started school and each new year of school, that trips to office works are just the norm, that dad would cover my books in – what I thought was – super cool laminate, when kids have awesome crayons or pencils, some have new backpacks with the newest roxy or rip curl key-rings… it’s just the little things like that which really show the huge huge difference of between us.

they couldn’t be happier with their ‘starting school’ gifts.

so I’ve been to the school quite a lot actually, on days when I’m not needed at the clinic or when we don’t go out HIV testing in the field. the principal, evelyn, is so so beautiful. every time I go, she gives me such a big hug and tells me that I’m such a blessing.. bless her cotton socks, I don’t think I’m a very good teacher but she tells me that each time I come, their days are made better. if you ever need affirmation, come to kenya. I was sick one day so I couldn’t make it and evelyn emailed me saying: “honey, how are you feeling after friday? get well soon. we miss you already. lots of love and a speedy recovery. evelyn.” how beautiful. she’s also mentioned to me that she knows I have a mum in australia, but while I’m in kenya, she can be my kenyan mum so if I have any problems or needs, I should go to her. seriously? how did I get so lucky?

one day I taught the junior class, bloody hell that was hard work. trying to keep the attention of 2.5-6 year olds going when they haven’t eaten breakfast/when they don’t speak english/when they are still learning to speak swahili is really hard work. I did really simple things like ‘my name is ___’, ‘I’m ___ years old’, ‘I have ___ brothers & ___ sisters’ etc. but even that was hard for the two girls who are 2.5 years old and are still learning how to speak swahili! so I managed to start them drawing with the coloured pencils I gave them with drawing their favourite animals, favourite places.

a lot of the kids don’t get breakfast or dinner at home, because they’re families are just so poor they have absolutely no money to spare on food and depend on the one mug of ‘porridge’ the kids get for morning tea at school. so they come to school on an empty stomach, which no child should ever do because how on earth can you learn on an empty stomach? they get their ‘porridge’ at about 11am and many don’t bring lunch from home, so the teachers try to buy some street food for them – like beans or chips, something to tie them over until they get home. but for a lot of them, that mug of porridge and half a handful of braised beans is all they eat.

I’m using quotation marks for the porridge because its not like you and I know porridge at home; you know, the nice oats cooked with milk and then sometimes you put brown sugar or honey or banana or all three on top. no, “uji” or porridge is made from a variety of flours such as millet flour, sorghum flour and corn/maize flour, a purple looking sludge, which is excellent for growing kids, it just doesn’t look very appetising. the sugar, however, makes it taste pretty good!

what one of the older kids in the junior class drew. pretty chuffed that she drew a nurse after I told them that’s what I was

I’ve also been lucky enough to teach the older class french. I would never have thought of teaching that but hajime (another volunteer from japan) taught japanese the day I was teaching the little kids, and I was jealous, so I told the kids I’d teach them french. it was so awesome, they were so willing to learn. I started with just simple words like family, mother, brother, father, sister, cat, dog, house, god, church, love, peace etc and then they started shouting out really random words like government. god when I was a student, I would not have thought to ask what government was in french, but these kids are unlike any others I’ve seen before. they’re so willing to learn and really want to further their education so they ask so many questions. amazing.

if there’s one thing you can’t lose, it’s that feel

after figuring out my last placement wasn’t really what I hoped to do, I changed to a different clinic in nairobi, called dagoretti community health centre, after a great referral from a fellow volunteer at outreach. but to go here, I had to change from the straight medical program that I was doing into the HIV program. so while its not as holistic as medical, HIV is still a medical problem so I’m still medically working (most of the time). I’m not necessarily working on my clinical skills just yet, but I’m sure that will happen in the coming months. it’s all a matter of helping where its needed most. the clinic is fantastic but that said, I’m hardly in the clinic as I’m usually out in the surrounding slums doing HIV testing in the field or at a school for kids who are from the streets or slums and might be HIV positive. but the school will get its own post in the next few days.

since arriving in kenya, there have been so many occasions where I’ve wished I didn’t ‘feel’ so much. probably more times than I can count on both hands and feet. wish I was one of those real tough bitches who had an exterior of concrete and was super unaffected by things I’ve seen. but I’m not, and I have been affected, already. but I’m kinda hoping that at least by my third month, I’ll be less shocked by things I see.

vincent & jemima; both are community health workers in the clinic I’m at, thought it was pretty cool that they get to wear white coats anyway. this was the area where we did testing one day, the slums right in nairobi.

my first day testing was eye opening, to say the least. I really need a new phrase other than eye opening… overwhelming. it was seriously overwhelming. I’ll try and explain as best I can, it’s probably going to be really wordy. before you test people, there’s a few questions to ask: age, sex, if they’ve been tested before and how long ago, if they are at risk or not, if they are being tested as an individual or as a couple. then comes the question about the marital status. I didn’t know, in kenya, that men often have more than one wife. I was shocked. so when we ask about their marital status, a lot (and I mean a lot) say they are married polygamy (MP for short). otherwise they’d be MS (married single), or just plain S (single). crazy. another instance of reminding myself that dis is africa.

HIV testing is very similar to testing a blood glucose. we have a “finger pricker”, which while its not the same as our BGL ones, it still does the job (except when you rip off the top plastic bit, a needle that looks just like a thumb tack is just sitting there – it doesn’t retract) but you have to be super careful because you literally shove it into someone’s finger (after wiping with a bit of cotton soaked in what I think is some sort of alcohol solution) and most people jump… my mantra when testing has become don’t get a needle stick injury. it’s a matter of being quick and confident, no second guessing yourself. like sticking a cannula in.. which I’ve found I’m decently good at, you just have to do it.

this is probably the “gold standard” of field HIV tests. similar to a pregnancy test, two lines = positive result; one line = negative result.

this is the test we use when we’ve run out of the first one (which is often as it is more expensive), but it isn’t as accurate. however, sometimes this one is used first, but if a positive result is achieved, the patient has to do repeat the test with the gold standard test, or come into the clinic if we’ve run out

so after a “little prick” (still gets my rocks off when I say that, even though kenyans don’t understand the hilarity of it), you wipe away the first bit of blood, then use this clear little tube thing that seems to osmotically draw the blood from the finger – with a lot of manual squeezing of the hand, kenyans bleed really slowly. it’s kind of a ‘squeeze, squeeze, draw blood’ routine. and repeat, at least 5-6 times. I wonder if they all have problems with poor circulation.

then you put the blood onto the test, and then put a drop of some sort of liquid on top of the blood (like real csi-style) then wait 5 minutes. in the grand scheme of things, 5 minutes is a seriously short wait, but when your standing there with someone who is visibly nervous and worried, it’s the longest 5 minutes ever.

the hardest part about testing is seeing people react when a result is positive, particularly as we’re testing in a pretty public arena (in the slums) and anyone can be watching to see your reaction – and some people’s reactions are pretty obvious. one guy couldn’t stop shaking when he was shown his result, he just wasn’t really listening to us anymore, his hands shaking more than what my pa used to with parkinson’s disease. I couldn’t help but feel for him. another guy just walked off when told of his positive result, not wanting to hear anymore about it. one guy laughed and shrugged it off, and went straight back to work.

for me, testing is overwhelming because of the vast reactions you get from people, because of the areas you’re testing in, because of how little or how much being diagnosed HIV+ means to people, and because of the uncomfortable feeling of not knowing what to say to people like the guy who couldn’t stop shaking. obviously I’m not trained in the counselling, obviously I can’t speak swahili. so my role – at times – feels very cut off. however I’ve been assured by my incredible mentor, vincent, that me being there is a huge help because people in the slums see me, a mzungu, as someone bringing extensive knowledge from another country and are encouraging them to get tested and know their status, as it is their right. that’s part of the huge campaign kenya is running, that its your right to know your status – which is why testing is free.

it’s hard work, being out in the blistering heat for hours testing people. I couldn’t tip my hat off to people more than vincent and jemima – they are so caring and thoughtful when testing others, encouraging of those who aren’t sure if they should be tested and extremely protective when I get proposed to by drunk kenyan men or hassled for money by kids sniffing glue. so it’s no wonder we all come back to the clinic, after a good day of walking all around nairobi, take tea and collapse into a 15minute power nap.

I never heard silence til I heard it today

hard to believe that it was 5 weeks ago I was in paris & saw mike rosenberg (better known as passenger) perform, one of the best gigs I’ve ever been to.

he played the song in the video below, travelling alone, which struck a chord with me, hence me naming my travel blog after it.

cheers mike.

there’s no combination of words I could put on the back of a postcard

thoughts, part I

after travelling a month in europe during their summer, I developed a pretty decent tan. was quietly happy with my new found ‘brownness’, infact I thought I was pretty dark.
then I got to kenya.
my tan is still getting better as each day passes but as long as I’m surrounded by people who are literally as dark as the night sky, I am not.

I’m still very much getting used to a) everyone staring, b) at times being the only mzungu for miles, c) everyone wanting to touch me/shake my hand and d) the proposals. thank god for my pretend wedding rings, I have avoided 8 potential husbands so far.

kenyan roads are the worst roads I’ve ever travelled on. not only are they full of potholes, but there are random speed bumps everywhere – and they aren’t uniform in size. some are big, some are small, then there’s like 5 tiny ones in a row where all your teeth chatter in your mouth. I wrote something on a note on my phone last week “african roads = sore boobs”. I’m not even generously blessed in that department, but it still hurts like a mofo.

I’m slowly learning swahili – to greet kids, you say sa sa and to greet adults, you say either jambo (hey) or habari (how’s it going?). everyone is always mzuri sana (literally “very fine” but it’s basically saying good thanks. thank you is asante, thank you very much is asante sana (like the song rafiki sings in the lion king), and you’re welcome is karibu, you’re very welcome is karibu sana. when I’ve told kenyans that I’ll be here for six months, everyone says “you will speak fluent kiswahili by then!”, which of course I would love nothing more. fingers crossed and a whole lot more practise required.

I’ve never been one to look at the ground when I walk; there’s always too much else going on. except since arriving in kenya, you have no idea what is on the next step ahead of you: awkward rocks that jut out and trip you up, uneven ground, pools of water than have god knows what dead in it and swarms of flies, stray dogs, chickens, goats, animal faeces, human faeces (not even lying, there’s this thing called ‘flying toilets’ which is usually reserved for places like the garbage slum that I’ve been to where people shit in plastic bags and throw it… yep, welcome to my new life)

when people see me walking down the street and shout mzungu, they’re literally calling out ‘white person’. somehow this is racially acceptable and it’s actually really adorable. I’ve kind of adapted it as my new name (considering no one knows me, I turn around when they shout it out). the best is little kids who say “mama, mama… mzungu!” and point crazily in my direction, like I’m some freaky creature from another planet. one of my new host mum’s daughters called me a ghost tonight – I’d probably be more upset at her dismissing my tan if she wasn’t 6 years old and had the same name as me.

but it makes my day when these kids reach out just wanting to touch my skin and either run away laughing or smile at me and give me a fist bump. can I please bring you beautiful children home?

and so it is just like you said it would be

so I’ve already mentioned, I was first placed at the family planning clinic in thika – a town about 45 mins north of nairobi. I had actually organised to be in maasai land for my first 2 months but obviously that wasn’t communicated from the organisation I booked with (IVHQ) to the organisation I now work for (NVS)… but hey, I’m a volunteer so I’ll go where I’m needed most.

so steve, vince, ashley, chelsea and I were supposed to be picked up from nairobi at 11am but in true african time, that didn’t happen until almost 2pm. classic kenyans. arriving in thika, we met josephine (our host mum) and her two year old son prince. we weren’t actually staying at their house, it was an apartment that NVS was obviously renting for when volunteers came out that way. it only had 2 couches, a coffee table and mattresses in it when we got there; bunk beds were supposed to arrive that night (but you probably don’t need me to tell you that that didn’t happen… I’m slowly learning to not expect anything to actually happen when people say it will)

the view from our apartment

josephine walked us around the town, which was just another big city really – felt similar to nairobi, with the horrible exhaust fumes and dust and smog… I swear if I don’t come back from kenya with only half a functioning lung, it will be an absolute miracle.

the streets, mainly dirt roads

the city centre; so unbelievably busy, pretty sure I got a headache just from walking through it

my first day at the clinic was, how should I put it… uninspiring. I don’t want to write too negatively about it because I’m sure some students would be fine there, but I’ve done my fair share of sitting around and being treating like an incapable first year who can’t take a BP, or even a resp rate. I definitely didn’t come to kenya for that. long story short, it felt as though the clinic either didn’t know what to do with me, didn’t really want me there or had never had a volunteer before. there are a lot of reasons why I think that, and I don’t think it’s necessary to write them all down, but I did change my placement. after showing up on monday morning to a very surprised lot of staff who sent us home, I called NVS to change places and they obliged. thank the good lord, because I definitely couldn’t go another day in a place where you don’t feel welcomed or wanted.

the clinic itself was pretty shocking and eye opening. a family planning clinic, as the name suggests, has a whole lot to do with contraception options as well as some maternal/child health stuff and a small theatre. initially it sounded promising, but on my first day, I realised how ‘backwards’ the clinic was. I totally get that each culture has their own beliefs about contraception, but I was totally shocked to see that the “withdrawal method” was in the book of accepted safe sex practises released by the health service within the kenyan government. um, pretty sure the last time I checked, that method does not stop you from becoming pregnant, it does not stop you from getting STI’s and it most certainly doesn’t prevent the spread of HIV. the lactation method also got a mention (where for 6 months after child birth, if you breast feed, it stimulates certain hormones to prevent you releasing eggs thus preventing you from getting pregnant… I think that’s how it works anyway). but even that isn’t completely safe. I wish I could ask the men of kenya what the problem is with using condoms. I even got to watch a demonstration of how to use a female condom… didn’t even think those bad boys were still in circulation/they should be in a museum of “how people used to prevent getting pregnant, back in the day” alongside diaphragms.

another example of me still having to remind myself where I am.

another unbelievable thing was seeing the posters on the walls. one in particular was about aseptic technique when in theatre (ie. how not to give your patients infections when you’re operating on them) and it was dated 1992. I was speechless. coming from a country where a new journal article is considered old if it was published over 3 years ago, I couldn’t believe they were still relying on research done over 20 years ago.
dis is africa.

what the clinic looked like inside one of the consult rooms. note: the pink bucket is where they put used equipment like speculums and forceps, it had some solution in it that sterilises them

trying to make it look like I had a productive day… didn’t even use my stethoscope! totes just for looks.

so for a number of reasons, not just the clinic, I was glad to get out of thika. we all were. we never really felt comfortable, useful or helpful. but hey, you have to have the bad days to appreciate the good ones, right?

happy days.

I’ve been here before a few times

racking up a pretty decent list of types of worldwide stomach issues I’ve had so far in my 22 years:

fiji belly ’04
can’t remember the exact details but remember being sick at one point

singapore belly ’07
probably from eating street food

bali belly ’10
the worst ever, legitimately thought I was going to die

tasmania belly ’11/’12
probably too much alcohol at falls festival

turkey belly ’13
probably opened my mouth in the shower accidentally

kenya belly ’13
just to add another one to the list – couldn’t even go to placement today because I didn’t think I could last without being close to a toilet

stomach, you have travelled to a lot of countries, including more than what’s mentioned above…. get your shit together.

this world has lost it’s glory

outreach weekend

it’s truly a sad day when you see witness first hand how others manage to survive in utterly horrible conditions and yet still manage to smile & welcome you into their homes.

nvs calls this two day event ‘outreach weekend’; where volunteers go out to three slums to visit and talk to locals, to distribute food, help out wherever necessary and to spend some time with the children. my ‘family’ (fellow volunteers living in my homestay with me) woke at 4:15am to meet our taxi at 5am – another occasion of ‘africa time’ as he didn’t show up for another 20mins, but we made it to junction mall in nairobi just after 6, when we were meeting at 7am and had been told that if you’re not there by 7am they’d leave without you. I’ve always been pretty strict about being on time, especially when travelling, but considering kenyans are always running late- then we don’t actually leave nairobi until nearly 9am. as much as you try not to get annoyed, it’s frustrating when you lose time at the end of the day to do other things (like climb ‘pride rock’ from the lion king).

we first stopped at great rift valley first to look at the huge expanse of area, as well as witness where first man was thought to have been found. it was pretty incredible, such a huge valley surrounded by huge mountains – obviously photos don’t do it even the smallest bit of justice.

then we headed to kcc slum, a place where kids are put through primary school through funding from donors to the project – but the parents from the slums help with buying uniforms, like a cost share thing. it costs $30 to send a kid to school for a year at kitendo children’s charity (kitendo means small good deeds), but they only have space for about 50 kids at a time – due to not enough teachers. volunteers who go here usually do teaching, but I was talking to one who said that the language barrier was huge – so they’ve been helping with cooking, cleaning and general upkeep of the school.. which is really just a few tin sheds close together. they also have a huge vegetable garden where all their veggies come from, which a few volunteers (like myself) helped weed their new carrot patch. nothing like ’round-up’ in the slums, it’s all DIY.

we also walked around the slum area, I had two little girls run up to me straight away saying ‘teacher, teacher!’, and grabbed my hands. their names were mary and gwen (both about eight years old) and we walked and talked all through the slum. at orientation, the staff sung this song called ‘jambo bwana’ and I haven’t been able to get it out of my head, so I was humming it while I was walking with the girls and they recognised it (being a pretty popular song) so we sung it together. and by singing together, I mean they kept laughing at my poor attempts at singing in swahili… which is by no means even at beginner level. but their laughter was so beautiful, I would have done anything to hear them keep going.

we must have been there for a few hours at least, and then it was time to leave. we had a bit of a treat in the afternoon where we went to hells gate national park and could bike ride through it, to pride rock, seeing wildlife just in the surrounding grasslands (not fenced off!). it was insane, when will I ever get the chance to say “oh yeah just went for a bike ride and saw zebras, gazelles, wildebeest and warthogs.. just like a real life lion king movie”. the views were incredible but I have never been so sore in my entire life, my crotch was not meant for riding 16km on a bicycle! literally could not sit properly for the next 3 days. so. much. pain.

the next day we started the day almost as early as the previous day: had to meet downstairs at 6:50am to help package up corn flour/maize into smaller bags (which is used to make ugali, more on that later) and blocks of cooking fat. definitely a great task to be doing pre-breakfast, who doesn’t love playing with kilograms of white powder in the morning?

the first slum we visited today was called the kihoto idp camp in gilgil. the people here arrived after the problems that arose in africa around 2007 & have been here since. I was definitely shocked to see people living under tarps, particularly when the conditions can be so tough – between the blistering heat and the rains that stay for 2 months, these people simply just can’t catch a break.

I should mention that we were told by our ‘guides’ on outreach that we shouldn’t feel obliged to hand out money as the money we paid to go on outreach was our donation for food and for the school clothing for kids. anyway, we visited a few different people in their homes, including miriam.

this 100 year old lady went blind after she fled her home country and was attacked by soldiers. she is completely dependant on her daughter, who has a family of her own yet cannot find work. the woman who was telling us miriam’s story was the leader of the idp camp, I forgot her name, but really was just pushing us to give donations (in monetary form). initially I wasn’t phased by it, but we were told by one of our guides that a couple of years ago, volunteers felt passionate enough to help out and supply the ‘camp’ with goats so they could use them for breeding and selling. however the people in the camp have become so dependant on volunteers showing up every week with lump sum donation (from our fee) that they let them out of the pen and seem to have lost their will to fight. when we asked the leader of the camp about work, she said something about going out every day to look for work but there is none. it just seems really hard to be able to help people who won’t help themselves. I saw it as a student paramedic in mildura with our own indigenous people; it’s funny how some people manage to get through problems while others depend on either handouts from the government or from random strangers.

the last visit was to gioto garbage slum. I can hardly find the words to describe this place – it was huge, and that hardly even starts to describe how big this tip was and the fact that people live here. people have been here since between 1980-1981 since they were chased from their land and displaced. there was a real feeling of helplessness and hopelessness, with girls dropping out of school because they’re pregnant (often due to rape) and they all depend on the garbage for survival. every morning when a new load of rubbish is brought in, it’s sifted through and anything that could make money for them is collected (ie. plastic bottles), where 1kg of plastic bottles can fetch between 9-10ksh (11-12 australian cents).

this was the first I spent of the donation money, $125, which was our contribution to the food parcels, monetary donations to people at the slums and the kids in the schools. so thank you to those who so generously donated, that’s how some of your money was used!

welcome to kenya, we’ve got lions

africa; the arrival.

I don’t even know where to start! so much has happened already and it feels like I’ve been here 6 weeks, not just 6 days. during the lead up to me leaving germany and coming to kenya, I was a nervous wreck. even though it was mostly ‘excited nerves’, there was definitely a small percentage of me that was shit scared. I’m pretty sure it was because I spent a bit of time with someone who reminded me of home, which then reminded me of how long I’ll be gone for, which made me question myself more than a million times about what the bloody hell I was doing. but regardless, I got on the plane to doha and then I got on my plane to nairobi. and here I am!

when my plane landed at nairobi jomo kenyatta airport, I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face. I had finally made it, so much planning and money spent, and I was finally in the land where david attenborough makes documentaries about lions and about the harsh deserts, the land where the lion king was based on, the land where poverty is so prevalent, the land that no one seems to travel to. and here I am.

considering my flight arrived at 7:30am and I hadn’t slept on either of the flights, I was basically a walking zombie. I also didn’t pay attention to the instructions about how to get the kenyan visa.. it costs $50us, but no one specified cash (or if they did, I missed that part) so I had my card all ready to go when the woman tells me she only accepts cash. so I go off in search of an atm back near the gate I came from, get out 10,000 kenyan shillings (approx. $130au) and go back to pay her the equivalent. but of course, she doesn’t have change, so I fork out 5000ksh for my three month visa, and I’ll have to reapply for another one for the next 3 months. classic case of not reading the fine print.

someone from the volunteer organisation (I booked through IVHQ but networks for volunteer services (NVS) is who I work for once in kenya) came to pick me up. I met three other volunteers in the van, one from sydney and two from america, and we were taken to the place where we’d spend the night before orientation the following day, in the same building. gradually as the day unfolded, more volunteers showed up, with the majority being americans & canadians. I was pretty surprised but once I realised this was their summer break, it made sense. in the group of volunteers on that first day, there were americans, canadians, one japanese guy, one from new zealand, one other aussie and me.

mikki (usa), tegan (aus ) and me with my awkward grimace smile

I was rather overwhelmed by the sheer number of american accents in one room, if there’s ever been an accent which annoys me more (usually only when I’m travelling) it’s that one! but after spending a week with my “new family” of canadian & american volunteers, I hardly notice it now.. except when we talk about ‘tomaytoes’

orientation was my first experience of ‘africa time’. if you’ve never heard of it, basically africans (in my experience, kenyans) don’t wear watches so you might be told orientation starts at 9am however it’s nearly 10am and it still hasn’t properly started. I’m positive this won’t be the only time I mention african time, I’m slowly starting to wrap my head around it, but it still gives me the shits!

I found out at orientation that contrary to what I thought I’d booked, I wasn’t going to maasai land for my first 2 months, but I was going to a family planning centre in thika, (in good traffic its about 45mins north west of nairobi, in bad traffic it might take 90mins). definitely have to be open to change when you’re a volunteer, considering they send you where they think you’re needed most. I also found out I am one of only two medical volunteers, and I’m the only qualified one – the other is a 2nd year med student from the uk. of the 99 volunteers who started on july 1, I’d say the majority are doing the orphanage program or teaching program.

the 99 volunteers, the biggest intake ever

later on in orientation, I was approached by a guy called marcus gregar-rive who, four years ago, came to kenya to volunteer and then set up a program for kids in a slum (called kitendo children’s charity (kcc) slum project) to be able to go to school. he asked me if I would like to be a part of a huge medical camp that kcc slum are running on august 17 in conjunction with kijabe hospital, to which I replied a probably far too ecstatic ‘yes, I’d love to’! after hearing about how another volunteer has managed to set up her own medical camps, I’m feeling pretty inspired on how to use the money that was so generously donated to me before I left. but that’s a long way down the track, with a lot of planning! past medical camps have run for either 1-2 days and service anywhere up to 1500 people with health services they otherwise can’t afford or get to.

so after orienting, you’re supposed to head to your host family before starting work the next day. however my group were still waiting on two more volunteers to arrive, so instead we stayed in nairobi on monday night at pastor regina’s house. it was jam packed full of volunteers, including an incredible mum, molly, from america with her 12 and 13 year old daughters. if that’s not a family holiday that actually means something, I don’t know what is. anyway, as we’re pulling our van into the gated area, about 20 kids are playing with ropes for skipping and rocks.

you often find small clusters of houses who share one common gate then have separate gates to their houses… makes you feel very secure. I’m climbing out of the car and the kids see my ukulele, start making strumming noises and ask me to play. quickly drop my bags inside and go back out with my newly tuned uke, and it was so much fun. initially I was playing and singing a few songs, namely somewhere over the rainbow, and then gradually as it got more exciting, they started taking over the playing and the singing (and the tuning!). it was absolute proof that something as simple as a musical instrument can bring such joy into people’s lives; the latest electronic play things are so unnecessary. it was pretty special to be part of the reason why the kids were smiling so much.

beautiful, happy, dancing kids loving my ukulele

this huge post is literally my first 2 days in kenya, and it’s not even scratching the surface!