I arrived in Nairobi on Sunday at around noon for the urology workshop and conference that I mentioned in my previous post. My lovely wife was holding down the fort on the coast, as it was already a financial stretch to have me stay in Nairobi for a week, and she's actually been doing some pretty important work in the lab lately (thanks, E!).
The first order of business? Go to the secondhand market (Toi Market) and get some "nice" clothes for the week. Kenyans are quite formal; men nearly always wear slacks with a button-down tucked in. It's usually ill-fitting or well-worn due to it's secondhand-edness, but the spirit remains. I wasn’t expecting to attend any medical conferences while here, so I didn’t bring anything too nice. Anyways, I tried on about 50 pairs of pants at Toi Market, and finally found two winners. Not bad for $10.
In the evening, I had arranged to meet with the urologist from Stanford at his hotel, so we met and drank a beer. Soon the urologist from Switzerland joined us, and I then learned that there was actually a welcome reception at the hotel for us that evening. I had fortunately opted for the khakis and oxford over the jeans and rugby that I strongly considered.
The welcome reception was a small gathering of about 10 urologists from around Kenya (mostly Nairobi), and we just had some "bitings" and drinks. I had met or talked to a few of them before, but others were a little confused as to who I was, as only two pediatric urologists were to attend this workshop. I explained that we lived here, and that I was technically a member of the same urology organization, but they didn't specifically send me here, but I was excited to learn. This explanation of me showing up at their conference seemed to suit everyone just fine, and conversation shifted to things which interested them more, specifically my height. We retired after a few Tuskers to rest up for the next day.
I must say, I was a little apprehensive about the workshop and conference week, as I had literally no details, but Day 1 went smoothly and I was really looking forward to the coming week.
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Friday, February 25, 2011
Child's Play: Copying Mom and Dad
A blog about school even though I haven't been there for a while. I miss the kids and found watching their free playtime to be incredibly interesting.
I minored in psychology in college so I have taken a few classes on child development, etc. and one of the things they often say is that children learn by imitating adults. Children copy what the adults are doing and this is the way they learn the spoken and unspoken rules of their culture.
This rapidly comes into focus when you change cultures and see children doing things that you'd never see in the US. For example, the kids at school play matatu. They line up chairs very close together and someone is the driver and someone is the conductor (the person who collects the money). The kids even shout "ferry, ferry, ferry" which is how the matatu conductors in Ukunda signal that their matatu is headed for the Likoni ferry.
This little girl is playing "house":
You see in Kenya, they make brooms out of straw or branches to sweep the areas in front of their houses. Even though this area is usually dirt, they are clearing it of rocks and larger debris. I have to admit, it does make the entrances to the homes look nicer.
See how she's bent over using the broom? This isn't the way an American would do this task but it's rapidly apparent why she does it this way if you observe her surroundings. Women in Kenya bend 90 degrees from their waist when doing tasks like sweeping, washing, or planting. They train to do this from a young age with their play and their chores. After observing this, I attempted to do our laundry standing up and bent 90 degrees, let me tell you, I have not adequately trained for that. I couldn't walk normally for 3 days afterward.
It's not just the girls though. Little boys walk around and swing sticks side to side at the ground practicing the way their fathers clear land with huge pandas (very, very sharp knives about 2 feet in length).
When they play with dolls, they don't hold them in front of them like an American child would. They tie them to their backs with sweaters so they can "wear" them like their moms wear their younger siblings.
See how Yasmin has the baby on her back:
I have never seen a Kenyan child hip-carried like an American child. The mom's have to walk much further distances so they wear them strapped to their backs. In fact, the children actually learn to balance by the time they are about 10 months old and they don't even tie them for shorter walks. The other day I had one child, Ryan, on my back and managed to bend down and tend to the skinned knee of another child and then stand back up all while Ryan just hung on and balanced. I never even steadied him, he just knew how to hold on.
You can learn a lot about Kenyan culture and customs by watching the children at school when they play make-believe. It makes you wonder what a Kenyan dropped into an American school would notice.
I minored in psychology in college so I have taken a few classes on child development, etc. and one of the things they often say is that children learn by imitating adults. Children copy what the adults are doing and this is the way they learn the spoken and unspoken rules of their culture.
This rapidly comes into focus when you change cultures and see children doing things that you'd never see in the US. For example, the kids at school play matatu. They line up chairs very close together and someone is the driver and someone is the conductor (the person who collects the money). The kids even shout "ferry, ferry, ferry" which is how the matatu conductors in Ukunda signal that their matatu is headed for the Likoni ferry.
This little girl is playing "house":
You see in Kenya, they make brooms out of straw or branches to sweep the areas in front of their houses. Even though this area is usually dirt, they are clearing it of rocks and larger debris. I have to admit, it does make the entrances to the homes look nicer.
See how she's bent over using the broom? This isn't the way an American would do this task but it's rapidly apparent why she does it this way if you observe her surroundings. Women in Kenya bend 90 degrees from their waist when doing tasks like sweeping, washing, or planting. They train to do this from a young age with their play and their chores. After observing this, I attempted to do our laundry standing up and bent 90 degrees, let me tell you, I have not adequately trained for that. I couldn't walk normally for 3 days afterward.
It's not just the girls though. Little boys walk around and swing sticks side to side at the ground practicing the way their fathers clear land with huge pandas (very, very sharp knives about 2 feet in length).
When they play with dolls, they don't hold them in front of them like an American child would. They tie them to their backs with sweaters so they can "wear" them like their moms wear their younger siblings.
See how Yasmin has the baby on her back:
I have never seen a Kenyan child hip-carried like an American child. The mom's have to walk much further distances so they wear them strapped to their backs. In fact, the children actually learn to balance by the time they are about 10 months old and they don't even tie them for shorter walks. The other day I had one child, Ryan, on my back and managed to bend down and tend to the skinned knee of another child and then stand back up all while Ryan just hung on and balanced. I never even steadied him, he just knew how to hold on.
You can learn a lot about Kenyan culture and customs by watching the children at school when they play make-believe. It makes you wonder what a Kenyan dropped into an American school would notice.
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Pippetting in Kenya
As M previously mentioned, I am helping out in the lab for a few weeks so we don’t overwork the Kenyans. Working alongside Mzungu has been interesting to say the least. First, notice his name? Yes, his given name is the exact same word as “person of European descent” that people constantly yell at us. Why you would name your Kenyan child, “person of European descent”, I have no idea but it sort of rounds out his oddities so I guess it makes sense.
Despite having an excellent command of English (including lab terms), Mzungu rarely does more than grunt when you speak to him. In fact, he’s perfected the non-response to the point where you’re often not sure whether he has heard the question. The hilarious thing is that despite uttering about 25 words a day directed at me in the 8 hours we spend together, he actually speaks to me significantly more than the other people in the lab. The other men in the lab enter every morning and greet only M, asking him about his health, his sleep, and making pleasant morning conversation. I think I’m adapting to Kenya because M noticed that they don’t speak to me, I didn’t even register this fact.
Mzungu is a trained laboratory technician but he does not, under any circumstances, multi-task. He was thoroughly horrified that I was labeling the next set of tubes the first day while the samples were spinning in the centrifuge.
He spent 2 full days this past week watching my every move with the pipette. After the 15th hour over 2 days, I asked him if I was doing it ok or if he had any suggestions. He shook his head. I asked if he wanted to take over and he again shook his head.
The end of the experiments involves plating all the samples and then applying different antigens to see whether or not the baby is making the correct antibodies to infectious agents. You can plate 2 samples on each plate so I usually make 3-5 plates per day. 90% of what goes on each plate is the same since the process is standardized. The only thing deviating from plate to plate is the sample of the baby’s blood. Given this 90% continuity across plates, I typically plate the samples one by one but then add the first antigen to all the plates before moving on to the second antigen, etc. This allows me to be efficient and not to have to open and close plates and antigens constantly. Mzungu watched this whole process silently before just shaking his head.
To be fair, I’m sure he’s concerned that I’m being accurate given the importance of processing these samples. I know, however, that this organization is actually preventing me from making mistakes since this is how my brain is organized. Also, it’s kind of ironic to be concerned about quality control when you were so concerned that you had help in the lab that you allowed me, an untrained biotech consultant, to take on 50% of your job. In the past, they’ve had 2 Kenyans [Mzungu + 1 other] do this job that I estimate takes me roughly 4 solid hours plus Mzungu’s 3-4 hours. For those of you playing at home, that’s eight hours of actual work but it’s important that the lab people don’t feel overworked and walk off the job during the all important follow-up appointments for the babies or the lab loses all its data.
The upside is that I also am able to help M with his experiments every morning. Plus, we get to blare country music and watch Mzungu make faces about how terrible it is, and that is totally worth it.
Despite having an excellent command of English (including lab terms), Mzungu rarely does more than grunt when you speak to him. In fact, he’s perfected the non-response to the point where you’re often not sure whether he has heard the question. The hilarious thing is that despite uttering about 25 words a day directed at me in the 8 hours we spend together, he actually speaks to me significantly more than the other people in the lab. The other men in the lab enter every morning and greet only M, asking him about his health, his sleep, and making pleasant morning conversation. I think I’m adapting to Kenya because M noticed that they don’t speak to me, I didn’t even register this fact.
Mzungu is a trained laboratory technician but he does not, under any circumstances, multi-task. He was thoroughly horrified that I was labeling the next set of tubes the first day while the samples were spinning in the centrifuge.
“How do you know how to label the tubes” he exclaimed
“Well I was copying them from your log book and then I double-check them when the samples are done spinning”
[Furrowed brow, no further comment]
He spent 2 full days this past week watching my every move with the pipette. After the 15th hour over 2 days, I asked him if I was doing it ok or if he had any suggestions. He shook his head. I asked if he wanted to take over and he again shook his head.
“Well, I think you can probably do it faster than me and I feel badly that I’m not saving you any time since you have to watch me so let me know if you want to do it”
[Quick scurrying away, no further oversight from him, luckily M's lab advisor is here and I'm doing it fine]
The end of the experiments involves plating all the samples and then applying different antigens to see whether or not the baby is making the correct antibodies to infectious agents. You can plate 2 samples on each plate so I usually make 3-5 plates per day. 90% of what goes on each plate is the same since the process is standardized. The only thing deviating from plate to plate is the sample of the baby’s blood. Given this 90% continuity across plates, I typically plate the samples one by one but then add the first antigen to all the plates before moving on to the second antigen, etc. This allows me to be efficient and not to have to open and close plates and antigens constantly. Mzungu watched this whole process silently before just shaking his head.
To be fair, I’m sure he’s concerned that I’m being accurate given the importance of processing these samples. I know, however, that this organization is actually preventing me from making mistakes since this is how my brain is organized. Also, it’s kind of ironic to be concerned about quality control when you were so concerned that you had help in the lab that you allowed me, an untrained biotech consultant, to take on 50% of your job. In the past, they’ve had 2 Kenyans [Mzungu + 1 other] do this job that I estimate takes me roughly 4 solid hours plus Mzungu’s 3-4 hours. For those of you playing at home, that’s eight hours of actual work but it’s important that the lab people don’t feel overworked and walk off the job during the all important follow-up appointments for the babies or the lab loses all its data.
The upside is that I also am able to help M with his experiments every morning. Plus, we get to blare country music and watch Mzungu make faces about how terrible it is, and that is totally worth it.
Monday, February 21, 2011
Lab / Hospital / Barnyard Update
Just a quick note as to what’s going on down at the hospital:
E has been going down to the lab to help with a project that we’re a little shorthanded on right now. Well, technically we’re not shorthanded, but it would require a lab tech to put in a full day of work, which is obviously unacceptable. What about chai at 10 am?! 12-2 lunch hour(s)?! These things are sacred, so we’ve brought in the Little One.
The process involves taking blood samples from the kids, and processing them into separate tubes of red blood cells, white blood cells, and plasma. It can be a bit arduous, but with the help of a centrifuge, it only takes a few hours. Anyways, it took about one day of observing, one day of doing while being observed, and now she’s of course found the most efficient way of doing it and finishes more quickly than the tech. It’s awesome of her to help out; it’s nice to have a little company down at the lab, she’s helping the project, and it’s allowing me to go to Nairobi this week for a urology conference (more on that later).
My projects are a little slow right now, but moving forward. The study where I’ll do urine cultures to look for UTIs has been fully approved, but we were waiting on one reagent from the US. Several people just came over and they brought a few boxes of supplies. The reagent was packed, but when the box was opened at the lab, it was not there. We did find a TSA slip saying that they inspected the box, and I wonder if they didn’t put this item back. It’s just too bad because it is literally worthless to 99.99% of the world, but cost $275 and we need it to get started.
I am in Nairobi for the week to attend a urology workshop and conference put on by the Kenyan Association for Urologic Society. The workshop is put on by two pediatric urologists from the US and Switzerland, and will focus on pediatric reconstructive surgery. There are no pediatric urologists in the country, so they’ll be training pediatric surgeons to do certain cases. I’m excited to spend some time in a larger hospital in Kenya (this is the largest teaching hospital in the country). Like most things here, there is still no itinerary, but I just know that I need to be at the hospital at 8:30 AM this morning.
On Friday, E and I made the observation that people are quite a bit closer to nature here than in the US. E shrieked while she was pipetting samples because there was a huge spider inside of the “sterile” hood. While I was away on a 1.5 hour sit-in waiting for the head of the hospital to meet with me (long story), E also dealt with a shrimper who had come by the lab to sell his catch (his price was too high).
As we were about to leave for the day, E ran to another room to grab something, and my favorite goat, one that makes a bleating sound like the girl in The Exorcist, ambled by. Unfortunately, she missed it again. We walked to the truck, and standing directly next to it were a pair of small cows. E approached one as you would a dog, and it proved pet-able. E’s new friend:
E managed to go from separating blood components under a sterile hood to petting a cow in about 30 seconds. This is a strange place. We will update more from the conference and from the lab this week.
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Wedding Day
Francis and Atsabina asked the committee members to arrive promptly at 9:30 AM for their 10 AM wedding. We knew it was quite dubious that this event would start on time but we can sympathize with the sentiment since we got married 15 months ago.
We arrived at 9:30 AM sharp with our nicely printed programs all ready to go. We were, of course, the only car in the place. Two people from M’s lab are here this week so the 4 of us sat in the shade while we waited since it was already boiling hot outside.
Arlene, Indu, and Max, patiently waiting:
At about 10, other committee members and the choir rolled in and began sitting under the tree as well. We sat until about 11 when the bride and groom arrived. The bride was unwilling to exit the car with all of us sitting under the baobab tree and insisted that the guests be seated before she got out.
M, Indu, and Arlene were seated and I stood by the door to usher people into their seats and hand out programs. People were moving pretty slowly from the heat so the wedding didn’t start until 11:30 AM with the bridal procession. Now people don’t just walk down the aisle in Kenya, they dance and it seems the preferred approach is to dance 3 steps forward and 2 steps back. This makes for a long procession but it was sort of nice that they didn’t just rush down the aisle and start the service.
One of the little girls in my class, Sharon, was a flowergirl and the bride and groom’s son, Leroy, was the ring bearer. They were really adorable:
Leroy and Sharon:
Me, Sharon, and Mama Sharon:
You’ll notice that Leroy isn’t wearing a suit but a fancy shirt and dark trousers. This was a miniature of his father’s outfit and is popular on the coast for weddings. Most men at the wedding were dressed this way while the women wore dresses or traditional attire. We had been pre-warned that a suit would be fine but it would be better for M to wear a “coastarian” shirt if at all possible. “Coastarian” (pronounced “coast-arian”) is what the people in coast province call themselves. M gamely went into Ukunda to find a fundi (expert in Swahili) to make him a shirt. I wasn’t able to go with him but he informed me upon his return that he had selected a blue fabric with some silver trim. Now, what he received fit well but the fundi made the executive decision that his shirt should include a pocket so he looked like he was wearing fancy medical scrubs. In fact, the shirt actually resembled a dressy version women’s nursing scrubs since the doctor’s are usually confined to hospital issue scrubs. Behold:
He hated it but I made him wear it on the premise that very few people were going to think he was wearing hospital scrubs and that it was better to look like you made a culturally appropriate attempt than to sweat to death in a suit.
I wore the only dress I have purchased since arriving in Kenya. It is only sold in one shop here in Diani and I was saving it for a special occasion since I don’t want to hand wash it here. Thus, I was only going to get one wearing out of it and a wedding seemed like a good reason.
Ok, enough on clothes, back to the wedding. The bridal party eventually made it down the aisle and the ceremony began. Much of it was in Swahili and it was a Catholic service so the call and responses weren’t very familiar to us but the choir was beautiful and we were enjoying ourselves. Two ladies came forward to do the Bible readings for the ceremony and I noticed they were holding our program. At that point I looked at M to see if he had noticed and we both had to suppress laughing as they read the verses from our wedding from the back of the program. We put those there as placeholders and here there were heavily featured in the ceremony. The priest went on to preach on the verses and quote them several times during his liturgy. We were highly amused that the programs came in so handy!
The wedding wrapped up in about an hour and 45 minutes and then we headed down the road to the reception. The reception was open seating but as gift-table guards, we got to sit with the presents. To be honest, I was slightly relieved that we didn’t have to make extensive conversation for 6 hours.
Vigilant present table guarding:
People ambled into the reception over the next hour, and our pile of presents to guard grew higher and higher. Soon, the buffet line opened up, and people returned to their tables with the most massive plates of food that you’ve ever seen. From big men to little old mamas, no one was shy. Not that Americans eat like birds, but at events where there’s food served in Kenya, it’s every man, women, and child for themselves.
We got food in shifts, so not to cause a lapse in present security. It was good, pretty typical Kenyan fare: rice, stewed chicken, stewed beef, sukuma (kale), and ugali (dry, tasteless polenta…that might be redundant). There was also some sort of bean and sweet potato mash that was pretty tasty, but we didn’t catch the name.
Leroy lost his pants at the wedding (Lapham would be proud):
As lunch wrapped up, so began the speeches. I’m not sure if we’ve written anything about it yet, but Kenyans LOVE microphones. It seems like stage fright doesn’t exist here. So, the bride’s family got to speak first. The MC asked that only one person from each side speak, so about eight or ten gave speeches. Most were in Swahili, so we could only get the gist. Next, the groom’s family, then the bride’s work colleagues, then, the groom’s. And so on. After about 2.5 hours of this, they then asked the wedding committee to come to the front. We got someone trustworthy to watch over the gifts, and headed to the front of the room. The mic was passed and we all had to introduce ourselves, say how we’re related to the couple, and anything else we wanted. Fortunately, those in front of us set an example of brevity, so we didn’t say a whole lot, but we did say it in Swahili, which was nerve-wracking, but it felt good when we were done.
Finally, after about 3.5 hours of speeches, the reception was over, but our work was not! M pulled the truck up to the reception hall and we loaded all of the presents into the truck to then take to our apartment, as the groom wanted to store them somewhere safe. Apparently in his own home with his family members was not suitably safe so we are storing them here. After the sweatiness of moving a few hundred gifts, we had to drive the “cooker” directly to their house. The “cooker” aka stove is the traditional gift from the bride’s parents at a wedding. So despite the fact that Francis and Atsabina have lived together for 4 years, the bride’s parents hauled the cooker on a 18 hour bus ride from Kakamega. We couldn’t carry the cooker up our 3 flights of stairs so we drove it to Francis and Atsabina’s where we were again made to swear that we would be attending the extension party in a few hours.
We headed home for a 90-minute respite to stop sweating and sit down for a few minutes and then headed to the extension party. What greeted us was the Kenyan version of a backyard BBQ. Boiled and fried goat meat on the bone, rock hard potatoes, and some sort of potato mash was served along with cold Tuskers. We gamely took a plate and went to sit with M’s lab colleagues. Now, mbuzi (goat) is eaten in Kenya with gusto using your hands so we attempted to join in although I’m sure we looked very unskilled at this. It’s basically impossible to extract any meat without copious gnawing at the same spot for several minutes so this occupied our time for a good 30 minutes. At that point, having eaten 3 bites and hands covered in grease, I resorted to just drinking my Tusker and quitting the food altogether.
Francis, Atsabina, and Leroy showed up and it was nice to speak with them since we hadn’t spoken to them all day. They really enjoyed the wedding and said they were thrilled with how the day went which we were happy to hear. The party stretched into the night with dancing and a lot of drinking but we slipped out after about 2 hours.
I’d say our first foray into Kenyan wedding planning was a success and it was certainly an interesting experience. We were happy our program was so helpful, maybe we’ll become Kenyan wedding consultants if the whole med school/biotech consulting thing doesn’t work out for us.
We arrived at 9:30 AM sharp with our nicely printed programs all ready to go. We were, of course, the only car in the place. Two people from M’s lab are here this week so the 4 of us sat in the shade while we waited since it was already boiling hot outside.
Arlene, Indu, and Max, patiently waiting:
At about 10, other committee members and the choir rolled in and began sitting under the tree as well. We sat until about 11 when the bride and groom arrived. The bride was unwilling to exit the car with all of us sitting under the baobab tree and insisted that the guests be seated before she got out.
M, Indu, and Arlene were seated and I stood by the door to usher people into their seats and hand out programs. People were moving pretty slowly from the heat so the wedding didn’t start until 11:30 AM with the bridal procession. Now people don’t just walk down the aisle in Kenya, they dance and it seems the preferred approach is to dance 3 steps forward and 2 steps back. This makes for a long procession but it was sort of nice that they didn’t just rush down the aisle and start the service.
One of the little girls in my class, Sharon, was a flowergirl and the bride and groom’s son, Leroy, was the ring bearer. They were really adorable:
Leroy and Sharon:
Me, Sharon, and Mama Sharon:
You’ll notice that Leroy isn’t wearing a suit but a fancy shirt and dark trousers. This was a miniature of his father’s outfit and is popular on the coast for weddings. Most men at the wedding were dressed this way while the women wore dresses or traditional attire. We had been pre-warned that a suit would be fine but it would be better for M to wear a “coastarian” shirt if at all possible. “Coastarian” (pronounced “coast-arian”) is what the people in coast province call themselves. M gamely went into Ukunda to find a fundi (expert in Swahili) to make him a shirt. I wasn’t able to go with him but he informed me upon his return that he had selected a blue fabric with some silver trim. Now, what he received fit well but the fundi made the executive decision that his shirt should include a pocket so he looked like he was wearing fancy medical scrubs. In fact, the shirt actually resembled a dressy version women’s nursing scrubs since the doctor’s are usually confined to hospital issue scrubs. Behold:
He hated it but I made him wear it on the premise that very few people were going to think he was wearing hospital scrubs and that it was better to look like you made a culturally appropriate attempt than to sweat to death in a suit.
I wore the only dress I have purchased since arriving in Kenya. It is only sold in one shop here in Diani and I was saving it for a special occasion since I don’t want to hand wash it here. Thus, I was only going to get one wearing out of it and a wedding seemed like a good reason.
Ok, enough on clothes, back to the wedding. The bridal party eventually made it down the aisle and the ceremony began. Much of it was in Swahili and it was a Catholic service so the call and responses weren’t very familiar to us but the choir was beautiful and we were enjoying ourselves. Two ladies came forward to do the Bible readings for the ceremony and I noticed they were holding our program. At that point I looked at M to see if he had noticed and we both had to suppress laughing as they read the verses from our wedding from the back of the program. We put those there as placeholders and here there were heavily featured in the ceremony. The priest went on to preach on the verses and quote them several times during his liturgy. We were highly amused that the programs came in so handy!
The wedding wrapped up in about an hour and 45 minutes and then we headed down the road to the reception. The reception was open seating but as gift-table guards, we got to sit with the presents. To be honest, I was slightly relieved that we didn’t have to make extensive conversation for 6 hours.
Vigilant present table guarding:
People ambled into the reception over the next hour, and our pile of presents to guard grew higher and higher. Soon, the buffet line opened up, and people returned to their tables with the most massive plates of food that you’ve ever seen. From big men to little old mamas, no one was shy. Not that Americans eat like birds, but at events where there’s food served in Kenya, it’s every man, women, and child for themselves.
We got food in shifts, so not to cause a lapse in present security. It was good, pretty typical Kenyan fare: rice, stewed chicken, stewed beef, sukuma (kale), and ugali (dry, tasteless polenta…that might be redundant). There was also some sort of bean and sweet potato mash that was pretty tasty, but we didn’t catch the name.
Leroy lost his pants at the wedding (Lapham would be proud):
As lunch wrapped up, so began the speeches. I’m not sure if we’ve written anything about it yet, but Kenyans LOVE microphones. It seems like stage fright doesn’t exist here. So, the bride’s family got to speak first. The MC asked that only one person from each side speak, so about eight or ten gave speeches. Most were in Swahili, so we could only get the gist. Next, the groom’s family, then the bride’s work colleagues, then, the groom’s. And so on. After about 2.5 hours of this, they then asked the wedding committee to come to the front. We got someone trustworthy to watch over the gifts, and headed to the front of the room. The mic was passed and we all had to introduce ourselves, say how we’re related to the couple, and anything else we wanted. Fortunately, those in front of us set an example of brevity, so we didn’t say a whole lot, but we did say it in Swahili, which was nerve-wracking, but it felt good when we were done.
Finally, after about 3.5 hours of speeches, the reception was over, but our work was not! M pulled the truck up to the reception hall and we loaded all of the presents into the truck to then take to our apartment, as the groom wanted to store them somewhere safe. Apparently in his own home with his family members was not suitably safe so we are storing them here. After the sweatiness of moving a few hundred gifts, we had to drive the “cooker” directly to their house. The “cooker” aka stove is the traditional gift from the bride’s parents at a wedding. So despite the fact that Francis and Atsabina have lived together for 4 years, the bride’s parents hauled the cooker on a 18 hour bus ride from Kakamega. We couldn’t carry the cooker up our 3 flights of stairs so we drove it to Francis and Atsabina’s where we were again made to swear that we would be attending the extension party in a few hours.
We headed home for a 90-minute respite to stop sweating and sit down for a few minutes and then headed to the extension party. What greeted us was the Kenyan version of a backyard BBQ. Boiled and fried goat meat on the bone, rock hard potatoes, and some sort of potato mash was served along with cold Tuskers. We gamely took a plate and went to sit with M’s lab colleagues. Now, mbuzi (goat) is eaten in Kenya with gusto using your hands so we attempted to join in although I’m sure we looked very unskilled at this. It’s basically impossible to extract any meat without copious gnawing at the same spot for several minutes so this occupied our time for a good 30 minutes. At that point, having eaten 3 bites and hands covered in grease, I resorted to just drinking my Tusker and quitting the food altogether.
Francis, Atsabina, and Leroy showed up and it was nice to speak with them since we hadn’t spoken to them all day. They really enjoyed the wedding and said they were thrilled with how the day went which we were happy to hear. The party stretched into the night with dancing and a lot of drinking but we slipped out after about 2 hours.
I’d say our first foray into Kenyan wedding planning was a success and it was certainly an interesting experience. We were happy our program was so helpful, maybe we’ll become Kenyan wedding consultants if the whole med school/biotech consulting thing doesn’t work out for us.
Monday, February 14, 2011
Wedding Committee
A few weeks ago, M came home and announced “we’re on Francis and Atsabina’s wedding committee!” I asked him what that meant and he just shrugged and said he wasn’t quite sure. Hmm, this was going to be interesting!
Over the next few weeks, Chris and Jamie filled us in on what to expect. First, being on the wedding committee involved a significant financial commitment. Second, we would be asked to do legwork leading up to the event and help on the day of the wedding. And, third, Kenya weddings are notoriously boring by American standards because the ratio of speeches to dancing is about 4 hours of speeches to 20 minutes of dancing.
Our first meeting was 3 weeks ago which we thought was rather close to the wedding on February 12th, but who were we to complain? Committees typically aren’t my favorite in the US, let alone in Kenya, so I was fine meeting only a few times. We were scheduled to meet at 1 PM on a Saturday, and M called me at noon to let me know that he was going to be late arriving from an errand to Mombasa and I should just go ahead and meet him there via matatu. “We could show up at 1:30 and still be the first people there, there is no way I’m going without you,” I told him. Sure enough, we arrived at 1:30 and waited until approximately 3 PM for things to get started.
Francis opened the meeting by thanking us and we quickly moved to the list of things still outstanding for wedding planning. These included transportation, DJ, crowd control, wedding program, and planning the entire extension party. We were informed that the extension party is very similar to an American reception and would include alcohol and dancing which would be conspicuously absent from the actual wedding.
Before we could begin meeting on these items, however, we needed to have committee officers. A chairperson, a vice-chair, a treasurer, and a secretary. Silence descended since it seemed that no one wanted to actually lead the committee. By previous agreement, M and I said nothing and attempted to blend into the wall. As you can imagine, this worked poorly but we escaped selection for officer positions since I’m pretty sure no one could remember our names.
First, we discussed crowd control. Kenyan weddings are community affairs and are considered open for anyone to attend. So, anyone walking by on the street may come in or other guests may invite people to join in the celebration. One committee member offered that he invited 350 people to his wedding and 760 people came. Francis and Atsabina’s wedding was planned to be slightly unusual though in that the reception was at one of the nice hotels on the beach and they had only paid for a certain number of guests. M and I threw out suggestions for using a card, invitation, or ticket to gain entry into the wedding and this was met with the comment, “Have you ever been to an African wedding?” So it was clear that RSVPing was out of the question for the committee because “you can’t just ask people if they’re coming to your wedding!” Oh, good to know! The bride and groom deferred to the committee on crowd control and we decided to table that for our next meeting.
Next up was the DJ situation and again, M and I were of no help since we don’t know any Kenyan DJs. Several names were thrown out and the final decision was tabled for the next meeting as well. Transport was next up and someone said they knew someone who rented cars in Mombasa, the committee as a whole seemed please with this finding and again further decisions were tabled until the next meeting. Are you sensing a theme here?
After about 3 hours of discussion, the meeting began to wind down. Everyone seemed satisfied with what had been accomplished so far though besides officer elections, we couldn’t discern any progress. We began to discuss where and when we would meet next and finally, M’s curiosity got the better of him and he piped up with “soooooo, does any of this stuff need to get done before the next meeting?” I nodded feeling that this was a valid concern given the wedding date in 3 weeks time but they assured us that we would be able to take care of everything at our next meeting in 10 days.
I admit that I was worried that we’d be assigned some task like “find a DJ” or “plan an extension party” with 10 days to go before the wedding so as I left I said to Francis, “we are so delighted to help with the wedding so if you could suggest something you think we can accomplish, we would be thrilled. We just don’t want to take on something that requires having contacts in Ukunda since we’re new in town.” He nodded and before he could say anything, I said “maybe the program?” He agreed that the program was the best thing so I felt slightly better that we had something we could capably handle.
The second meeting was much of the same, though some progress was been made in terms of a DJ, transportation, and the extension party. Also similarly, it was about three hours long.
At the third meeting, six days before the wedding, some roles were finally farmed out. I was appointed usher, as well as the prestigious honor of co-present table guard (along with M). M was also assigned to be a bouncer of sorts to keep the reception from being crashed by outsiders. He was supposed to identify and admit people from the lab, and several others were supposed to identify the other guests. This plan seemed to have a few holes in it, but we didn’t struggle against it too hard.
Francis came over a few days later with some wedding programs from weddings he had attended. We designed a simple program with sample graphics on the cover, the bridal party and the agenda on the inside, and then on the back we put some Bible verses as placeholders in a very similar fashion to the sample he provided. Since we didn’t know what verses they were using in their wedding, we just used the verses from our wedding (Psalm 100 and Colossians 3:12-14) as placeholders.
Me in designer mode:
As we got closer to the wedding, we kept asking them for edits or changes. They made a few spelling changes to people’s names but never suggested any new Bible verses. Finally with 3 days left before the wedding, M asked Francis what their verses were so we could print. “Oh, just use the ones you put on the program, those work for us”, he replied. We thought that was strange but figured they didn’t want to bother with that detail and besides they were just on the back of the program so most people wouldn’t see them. We dutifully printed and folded all 200 programs the night before the wedding on the scented paper (yes, scented) they provided for this purpose and arrived at 9:30 on Saturday for the wedding.
There’s so much to write about the actual wedding day, so you’ll have to watch for the conclusion.
Over the next few weeks, Chris and Jamie filled us in on what to expect. First, being on the wedding committee involved a significant financial commitment. Second, we would be asked to do legwork leading up to the event and help on the day of the wedding. And, third, Kenya weddings are notoriously boring by American standards because the ratio of speeches to dancing is about 4 hours of speeches to 20 minutes of dancing.
Our first meeting was 3 weeks ago which we thought was rather close to the wedding on February 12th, but who were we to complain? Committees typically aren’t my favorite in the US, let alone in Kenya, so I was fine meeting only a few times. We were scheduled to meet at 1 PM on a Saturday, and M called me at noon to let me know that he was going to be late arriving from an errand to Mombasa and I should just go ahead and meet him there via matatu. “We could show up at 1:30 and still be the first people there, there is no way I’m going without you,” I told him. Sure enough, we arrived at 1:30 and waited until approximately 3 PM for things to get started.
Francis opened the meeting by thanking us and we quickly moved to the list of things still outstanding for wedding planning. These included transportation, DJ, crowd control, wedding program, and planning the entire extension party. We were informed that the extension party is very similar to an American reception and would include alcohol and dancing which would be conspicuously absent from the actual wedding.
Before we could begin meeting on these items, however, we needed to have committee officers. A chairperson, a vice-chair, a treasurer, and a secretary. Silence descended since it seemed that no one wanted to actually lead the committee. By previous agreement, M and I said nothing and attempted to blend into the wall. As you can imagine, this worked poorly but we escaped selection for officer positions since I’m pretty sure no one could remember our names.
First, we discussed crowd control. Kenyan weddings are community affairs and are considered open for anyone to attend. So, anyone walking by on the street may come in or other guests may invite people to join in the celebration. One committee member offered that he invited 350 people to his wedding and 760 people came. Francis and Atsabina’s wedding was planned to be slightly unusual though in that the reception was at one of the nice hotels on the beach and they had only paid for a certain number of guests. M and I threw out suggestions for using a card, invitation, or ticket to gain entry into the wedding and this was met with the comment, “Have you ever been to an African wedding?” So it was clear that RSVPing was out of the question for the committee because “you can’t just ask people if they’re coming to your wedding!” Oh, good to know! The bride and groom deferred to the committee on crowd control and we decided to table that for our next meeting.
Next up was the DJ situation and again, M and I were of no help since we don’t know any Kenyan DJs. Several names were thrown out and the final decision was tabled for the next meeting as well. Transport was next up and someone said they knew someone who rented cars in Mombasa, the committee as a whole seemed please with this finding and again further decisions were tabled until the next meeting. Are you sensing a theme here?
After about 3 hours of discussion, the meeting began to wind down. Everyone seemed satisfied with what had been accomplished so far though besides officer elections, we couldn’t discern any progress. We began to discuss where and when we would meet next and finally, M’s curiosity got the better of him and he piped up with “soooooo, does any of this stuff need to get done before the next meeting?” I nodded feeling that this was a valid concern given the wedding date in 3 weeks time but they assured us that we would be able to take care of everything at our next meeting in 10 days.
I admit that I was worried that we’d be assigned some task like “find a DJ” or “plan an extension party” with 10 days to go before the wedding so as I left I said to Francis, “we are so delighted to help with the wedding so if you could suggest something you think we can accomplish, we would be thrilled. We just don’t want to take on something that requires having contacts in Ukunda since we’re new in town.” He nodded and before he could say anything, I said “maybe the program?” He agreed that the program was the best thing so I felt slightly better that we had something we could capably handle.
The second meeting was much of the same, though some progress was been made in terms of a DJ, transportation, and the extension party. Also similarly, it was about three hours long.
At the third meeting, six days before the wedding, some roles were finally farmed out. I was appointed usher, as well as the prestigious honor of co-present table guard (along with M). M was also assigned to be a bouncer of sorts to keep the reception from being crashed by outsiders. He was supposed to identify and admit people from the lab, and several others were supposed to identify the other guests. This plan seemed to have a few holes in it, but we didn’t struggle against it too hard.
Francis came over a few days later with some wedding programs from weddings he had attended. We designed a simple program with sample graphics on the cover, the bridal party and the agenda on the inside, and then on the back we put some Bible verses as placeholders in a very similar fashion to the sample he provided. Since we didn’t know what verses they were using in their wedding, we just used the verses from our wedding (Psalm 100 and Colossians 3:12-14) as placeholders.
Me in designer mode:
As we got closer to the wedding, we kept asking them for edits or changes. They made a few spelling changes to people’s names but never suggested any new Bible verses. Finally with 3 days left before the wedding, M asked Francis what their verses were so we could print. “Oh, just use the ones you put on the program, those work for us”, he replied. We thought that was strange but figured they didn’t want to bother with that detail and besides they were just on the back of the program so most people wouldn’t see them. We dutifully printed and folded all 200 programs the night before the wedding on the scented paper (yes, scented) they provided for this purpose and arrived at 9:30 on Saturday for the wedding.
There’s so much to write about the actual wedding day, so you’ll have to watch for the conclusion.
Thursday, February 10, 2011
To the Baobab Tree and Back: Physical Education in Kenya
Being kindergartners, we don’t really have to entice our kids to be active. They pretty much bounce off the walls at all times. On Wednesday mornings though, we have official PE time. The kids get to wear colorful t-shirts instead of their uniforms which they adorably call “PE kit”, kit being the British word for outfit.
After singing in assembly, we line the kids up by age and gender. We have 6 races since we have 3 classes and the boys and girls run separately. We count to 3 and they’re off with their classmates screaming the winning child’s name as they cross the “finish line”. They race to the giant Baobab tree that shadows the playground and back. They knock into one another, trip and fall, get dirty, and generally have an awesome time.
KG2 boys lined up:
And they're off!
We acknowledge who won, give them a high-five and move on. There’s no one whining about making the kids competitive or wanting to complain that everyone is a ‘winner’ and frankly, it’s refreshing. It’s a footrace so someone wins, period.
Abednego winning the KG2 boys race:
Keccy winning the girls KG2 race:
Baby class girls:
Baby class boys:
After races, we generally play some fun variations of tag in a circle and finish up with some silly songs that are very active. It’s all simple stuff that doesn’t require fancy equipment, medical waivers, or even a PE teacher.
After singing in assembly, we line the kids up by age and gender. We have 6 races since we have 3 classes and the boys and girls run separately. We count to 3 and they’re off with their classmates screaming the winning child’s name as they cross the “finish line”. They race to the giant Baobab tree that shadows the playground and back. They knock into one another, trip and fall, get dirty, and generally have an awesome time.
KG2 boys lined up:
And they're off!
We acknowledge who won, give them a high-five and move on. There’s no one whining about making the kids competitive or wanting to complain that everyone is a ‘winner’ and frankly, it’s refreshing. It’s a footrace so someone wins, period.
Abednego winning the KG2 boys race:
Keccy winning the girls KG2 race:
Baby class girls:
Baby class boys:
After races, we generally play some fun variations of tag in a circle and finish up with some silly songs that are very active. It’s all simple stuff that doesn’t require fancy equipment, medical waivers, or even a PE teacher.
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Industrious Exercise
Since arriving in Kenya, E and I have been blessed with the time to work out basically every day. We usually manage about six days per week, primarily runs along the road, or the beach if the tide is low enough. We also swim occasionally, but my terrible form, combined with the “rustic” green tint that the pool has taken on in the past few months, runs are much more common.
Running unfortunately doesn’t do much for upper body strength. One of the local hotels has a gym with weights, but it’s about $60 per month, for which we definitely haven’t budgeted. My friend Chris and I are on a push-up program where were supposed to be able to do 100 consecutively, which has been a nice change, but it’s not a real balanced program. I’d like to do some pull-ups as well, but because nearly all of the trees here are palm trees, there are not good pull-up branches. So basically I’m saying that I haven’t lifted weights in about six months.
The other day, as I was lugging home the 20 liter container (jerry can) of water that we refill from the hospital well every few days, my brilliant wife suggested that I could use that for lifting. It’s about 50 pounds when full of water, and with all of the sloshing, pretty unstable, making it feel heavier. Alright, time for a trip to Ukunda for shopping.
I obviously comparison shopped, and came to the decision to buy an old cooking oil container, as it had a solid-feeling handle. At 130 shillings, I’m pretty sure that I overpayed by about 30 shillings (35 cents), but I felt that it was a quality product. I wanted to make a rope handle as well, so I found a hardware duka (shop), and asked for a meter of their thickest rope. The guy tried to convince me that I needed at least 10 meters of rope because “you are using it for your borehole (water well).” I repeatedly assured him that I didn’t have a borehole and I truly needed only one meter, and finally he cut it for me.
Back at home, I hired E to tie me a good bowline knot as well as something called a “clove hitch” to keep the knots from sliding. After filling with water and a few minutes of fiddling with ropes and towels, I knew that I had something good. The finished product:
With this setup, I can now do oblique bends, bent-over rows, bicep curls, overhead press, shoulder rows, and overhead tricep press. Incorporation of a bathmat really adds something as well.
I’m currently enjoying soreness that I haven’t felt in months thanks to a big jug of water. E has put in a request for some 5 liter jugs so that she can get in on the action.
Running unfortunately doesn’t do much for upper body strength. One of the local hotels has a gym with weights, but it’s about $60 per month, for which we definitely haven’t budgeted. My friend Chris and I are on a push-up program where were supposed to be able to do 100 consecutively, which has been a nice change, but it’s not a real balanced program. I’d like to do some pull-ups as well, but because nearly all of the trees here are palm trees, there are not good pull-up branches. So basically I’m saying that I haven’t lifted weights in about six months.
The other day, as I was lugging home the 20 liter container (jerry can) of water that we refill from the hospital well every few days, my brilliant wife suggested that I could use that for lifting. It’s about 50 pounds when full of water, and with all of the sloshing, pretty unstable, making it feel heavier. Alright, time for a trip to Ukunda for shopping.
I obviously comparison shopped, and came to the decision to buy an old cooking oil container, as it had a solid-feeling handle. At 130 shillings, I’m pretty sure that I overpayed by about 30 shillings (35 cents), but I felt that it was a quality product. I wanted to make a rope handle as well, so I found a hardware duka (shop), and asked for a meter of their thickest rope. The guy tried to convince me that I needed at least 10 meters of rope because “you are using it for your borehole (water well).” I repeatedly assured him that I didn’t have a borehole and I truly needed only one meter, and finally he cut it for me.
Back at home, I hired E to tie me a good bowline knot as well as something called a “clove hitch” to keep the knots from sliding. After filling with water and a few minutes of fiddling with ropes and towels, I knew that I had something good. The finished product:
With this setup, I can now do oblique bends, bent-over rows, bicep curls, overhead press, shoulder rows, and overhead tricep press. Incorporation of a bathmat really adds something as well.
I’m currently enjoying soreness that I haven’t felt in months thanks to a big jug of water. E has put in a request for some 5 liter jugs so that she can get in on the action.
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Birthdays: Kenya Style
Every few weeks, one of the children has a birthday and we celebrate
at school. The parent or parents usually come at break time with a
cake, biscuits, and juice for the kids. Biscuits are what they call
cookies and you'll remember that these are pronounced bis-qweets and
ju-eece (rhymes with Greece).
We sing happy birthday in the standard way but then there comes a
tradition of feeding each other cake. First, the child is fed a piece
by the parent. Then, each parent is fed by the child, then the
teacher's, and finally the child's best friend.
Here I am being fed cake by Abednego (in one of my kanga dresses):
I have not gotten a clear answer as to the reason for this tradition
but I've now seen it happen at about 10 birthday so it's definitely
very common. The other tradition is painting the child's face with
icing:
The cake also demonstrates a very interesting Kenyan principle that
nothing is ever wasted and everyone gets their share apportioned to
their status.
The kids are served very small pieces, perhaps one or two inches
square at most. These are cut and handed to them since paper plates
are an unecessary expense. The parents and teachers are given larger
pieces about 2.5-3 inches square. Kenyans don't like sugar as much as
Americans (especially me), so I ususally find these cakes to be really
dry except for the top part with a lot of icing. On the other hand,
the other teachers typically remove the icing because it's too sweet
and eat the dry cake part underneath. This serving strategy usually
leaves about half of the cake since the kids are not given very much
at all. We slice up a little bit for the gateman and maybe some of
the maintenance works but there is still a lot left over. This cake
is carved into 4 very large pieces and each teacher (including me) is
given a portion to take home wrapped in napkins.
I don't like Kenyan cake and I really don't need to be eating so much
of it so I usually give Mary my portion. Since she doesn't have a
fridge, she eats both portions in one night or shares it with her
neighbors. This is why Kenyans typically eat one thing at a time
because otherwise something might spoil.
It seems so strange to us that you'd give the children (including the
bithday child!) such a small share of cake and then let the teachers
take home so much. In an American setting, the cake would be
completely consumed or the extra would be left in the teacher's break
room and eaten but no one would take home a share.
Food is still seen as a status symbol in Kenya and because of food
insecurity, food is always carried back to family whenever possible.
Thus, as teachers, we have a right to take more cake than anyone else
and take it home to our families.
My friend Linda (up in Nairobi) tells the story of a time that she
hired someone to cook a meal for 200 people at a vacation bible
school. The mama hired to cook took 1/3 of the food home as "her
portion" before Linda told her to bring it back. The woman felt that
as the cook for a child's event, she would entitled to a significant
amount of food despite the fact that Linda had paid her. Linda was
not invited back to this church because she had so deeply offended the
mama who was related to the pastor.
It seems odd to us as Americans to aportion food based on status but
it is deeply ingrained in the culture here. This also probably
relates back to the tradition of feeding birthday cake to each other.
It is a public way for the child to show respect to his parents and
elders to feed them. I still don't get the smearing birthday cake on
the kid but I'll report back if I figure that one out!
Monday, February 7, 2011
The Superbowl: Kenya Style
We didn't get to watch much football this year so we couldn't resist tuning in for the one game they show live. Kick-off was at 2:30 AM and the sun started to rise as the clock was counting down.
We were rooting against the Steelers (obviously) and M conveniently picked up a Springbok's rugby jersey (anyone seen Invictus?) in Nairobi a few weeks ago so he was sporting Packers colors.
There was a nice crowd of 20 or so Americans in this beach bar. A mix of Peace Corp Volunteers, Navy guys, and a few assorted college kids. The weirdest thing was running into a guy from Baltimore who (of course) went to Gilman, the brother school to Bryn Mawr, my all girls high school. We united, as Ravens fans, to cheer against Pittsburgh and talk about all manor of preppy things from lacrosse to Preakness. M tried not to gag in the background too much.
It was an exciting game and M got to catch up with some of his college roommates during the game via phone. Garrett was especially pleased with the halftime mash-up by the Black Eyed Peas. We also hung out on the beach during half-time in an attempt to stay awake.
It was funny watching the waiters falling asleep as the Americans screamed at the TV. Just like soccer is really wasted on us, the Kenyans didn't seem to appreciate football very much. We'll be tired today but it was definitely another funny Kenyan experience to remember.
Friday, February 4, 2011
National Anthem
This morning we will sing the Kenyan national anthem at assembly
because it's Friday. The words follow below:
Ee Mungu nguvu yetu
Ilete baraka kwetu
Haki iwe ngao na mlinzi
Natukae na undugu
Amani na uhuru
Raha tupate na ustawi.
O God of all creation
Bless this our land and nation
Justice be our shield and defender
May we dwell in unity
Peace and liberty
Plenty be found within our borders.
because it's Friday. The words follow below:
Ee Mungu nguvu yetu
Ilete baraka kwetu
Haki iwe ngao na mlinzi
Natukae na undugu
Amani na uhuru
Raha tupate na ustawi.
O God of all creation
Bless this our land and nation
Justice be our shield and defender
May we dwell in unity
Peace and liberty
Plenty be found within our borders.
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Getting started...
Over the past few months, I’ve been trying to get a small study off of the ground here. We want to look at urinary tract infections among pregnant women who come to the hospital for their care, as some markers of urinary tract infection were very high in previous studies. This is important because UTI during pregnancy increases the rate of preterm birth, low birthweight, and severe maternal kidney infection. Anyway, so I wanted to do a simple study where we collect the urine at the first prenatal visit, culture it for bacteria, and see what antibiotics the bacteria are sensitive to. Pretty simple stuff. Simple in the US, maybe, but not in Kenya.
I began the process for approval of the protocol in September of 2010. It was supposed to be an expedited review because it involves no risk to the patient. There have been some issues to missing signatures on the submissions, and as of now, it remains unapproved, though apparently it will go through any day now!
OK, so we’ve been working under the assumption that the approval will occur, so we needed to figure out the necessary reagents. I spoke with the clinical laboratory manager about what he would need to culture, identify, and determine sensitivities, as we’d provide the reagents. They need literally everything. From petri dishes to test tubes to agar to urine cups to distilled water to wash everything. The manager’s eyes lit up when I said that we’d purchase what we needed, as he is a well-trained laboratory technician who has been working with nothing for years. They are never able to definitively identify a pathogen, but rather treat based on what it most likely is. Alright, I guess we have some shopping to do.
I ordered a bunch of stuff from our wishlist from the US, but about half of the reagents couldn’t be shipped because they are flammable. One of the reagents was available from South Africa, though I got to the end of the ordering process, and shipping for the $200 agar (media on which you culture urine samples) was $300, which quickly ended that discussion. Mombasa has one supplier of laboratory goods, so the manager and I arranged to head in to Mombasa for the day. E and I usually take matatu-matatu-ferry-tuktuk into town, but because this was lab business, we took the lab truck, with Biego driving.
This shop is in Old Town Mombasa (read: very narrow streets, lots of mosques). We entered the tiny shop and sat down with Patel, the owner. This reference may be very new and lost on many, but it reminded me of in the movie “Inception” when they go to the guy’s shop in Mombasa. Wow, 98% of people reading this will get nothing out of that visual. Anyways, we sit down with Patel and begin to go through our list. He has about half of what we need, and another third he can get from Nairobi in a few days. Excellent. The following week Elisabeth and I did the usual public transport shtick and picked up the remaining reagents. E captured a picture of me in the shop.
Now that we have the reagents that we need, it’s just a matter of getting the women to pee in a cup, right? Wrong. Currently, the women are simply handed two cups (non-sterile) and told “pee in one, poop in the other”. As you can imagine, this is bound to lead to contamination. So, we have to get some clean catch urine collection instructions to them. I found some instructions online, but quickly realized that the vast majority of these women know no English. E and I then spent some time translating the instructions into Swahili. Two days ago I was sitting at our dining room table with our Swahili teacher correcting some grammatical errors. E left the room because, as you can imagine, there was some “sensitive” language and she didn’t want to offend our Muslim teacher. So, if anyone needs urine collection instructions in Swahili, we’re the people to talk to.
Once again, living and working here has made us so much more appreciative of the conveniences that we enjoy in the states. Amazon will deliver nearly everything you can dream of, to your door, in two days (or the next day if you want to pay a little more)! Here, even though we have people coming every few months from the lab, it is nearly impossible to get many “basic” items. Mzee was just complaining today that they can’t fix the lab trucks properly because they “cannot get spares”. I also recognize what a feat it is that the big research projects that I’m working on function at all!
A characteristic that one needs when trying to get anything done here (from a calendar hanging in the lab). E and I had a good laugh about this.
I began the process for approval of the protocol in September of 2010. It was supposed to be an expedited review because it involves no risk to the patient. There have been some issues to missing signatures on the submissions, and as of now, it remains unapproved, though apparently it will go through any day now!
OK, so we’ve been working under the assumption that the approval will occur, so we needed to figure out the necessary reagents. I spoke with the clinical laboratory manager about what he would need to culture, identify, and determine sensitivities, as we’d provide the reagents. They need literally everything. From petri dishes to test tubes to agar to urine cups to distilled water to wash everything. The manager’s eyes lit up when I said that we’d purchase what we needed, as he is a well-trained laboratory technician who has been working with nothing for years. They are never able to definitively identify a pathogen, but rather treat based on what it most likely is. Alright, I guess we have some shopping to do.
I ordered a bunch of stuff from our wishlist from the US, but about half of the reagents couldn’t be shipped because they are flammable. One of the reagents was available from South Africa, though I got to the end of the ordering process, and shipping for the $200 agar (media on which you culture urine samples) was $300, which quickly ended that discussion. Mombasa has one supplier of laboratory goods, so the manager and I arranged to head in to Mombasa for the day. E and I usually take matatu-matatu-ferry-tuktuk into town, but because this was lab business, we took the lab truck, with Biego driving.
This shop is in Old Town Mombasa (read: very narrow streets, lots of mosques). We entered the tiny shop and sat down with Patel, the owner. This reference may be very new and lost on many, but it reminded me of in the movie “Inception” when they go to the guy’s shop in Mombasa. Wow, 98% of people reading this will get nothing out of that visual. Anyways, we sit down with Patel and begin to go through our list. He has about half of what we need, and another third he can get from Nairobi in a few days. Excellent. The following week Elisabeth and I did the usual public transport shtick and picked up the remaining reagents. E captured a picture of me in the shop.
Now that we have the reagents that we need, it’s just a matter of getting the women to pee in a cup, right? Wrong. Currently, the women are simply handed two cups (non-sterile) and told “pee in one, poop in the other”. As you can imagine, this is bound to lead to contamination. So, we have to get some clean catch urine collection instructions to them. I found some instructions online, but quickly realized that the vast majority of these women know no English. E and I then spent some time translating the instructions into Swahili. Two days ago I was sitting at our dining room table with our Swahili teacher correcting some grammatical errors. E left the room because, as you can imagine, there was some “sensitive” language and she didn’t want to offend our Muslim teacher. So, if anyone needs urine collection instructions in Swahili, we’re the people to talk to.
Once again, living and working here has made us so much more appreciative of the conveniences that we enjoy in the states. Amazon will deliver nearly everything you can dream of, to your door, in two days (or the next day if you want to pay a little more)! Here, even though we have people coming every few months from the lab, it is nearly impossible to get many “basic” items. Mzee was just complaining today that they can’t fix the lab trucks properly because they “cannot get spares”. I also recognize what a feat it is that the big research projects that I’m working on function at all!
A characteristic that one needs when trying to get anything done here (from a calendar hanging in the lab). E and I had a good laugh about this.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Aliens in Kenya
One of the requirements for extending our initial visas past 90 days is the requirement that you register as an alien in the country and receive an ID card. This is clearly stated on all forms and guidebooks so M and I set out to apply for alien status in late September. We clearly remember the date because while we were in Mombasa, our totally adorable nephew was born (completely unnecessary picture of him below; let’s all say “awwww” together).
After fingerprinting and headshots, our applications were ready to go. We were told that it would take 8 weeks to receive the passes so to check back in late November. The upside of these passes is that theoretically, you can receive entry into some national parks and other attractions for a lower residents price, plus you’re following the law which is a definite perk. We were pleased that we would receive the cards prior to our trip in early December because we wanted to visit several premium parks. We were so naive.
Of course when we called in late November, they were not yet ready. In fact they had not even come down from Nairobi yet. The story was similar in mid-December. In late December, they had been printed but not yet shipped. We finally received our cards January 15th. They expire in early February. Perfect.
When we applied back in September, our current visas expired in early February so it makes sense that they expire when they believed our visas to end. The issue now is that we’ve got visas until May 23rd when we head home but now our alien registration cards are out of date. So, today we took a little field trip to immigration as a side project from M buying reagents for his experiments.
We explained our predicament to the very nice immigration lady who promptly whipped out the alien registration form and began filling it out with our information. We explained to her that with all due respect, any new cards were certainly not going to be here before our old ones expire and that we may have already left the country when new ones arrived. She explained that they only process them in batches of 2,500 so we must have caught them at a bad time. We asked what she thought we should do about it. She smiled and indicated that we shouldn’t really worry about it since our visas were valid. Again, we insisted and held up the form indicating the Kenyan law that we have these cards, we understand that it might not “be a big deal” but we’d like to stay in compliance with Kenyan law. She just reiterated to reapply and sent us to a new clerk.
The new clerk was no more helpful but said that we could use the receipts she was giving us as proof that we had reapplied within the proper timing. We’re not sure if that would work but we’re not really planning on doing anything that draws attention to ourselves anyway and it is true that we have valid visas. It really does highlight the uneven way that things operate in Kenya. They have completely modern immigration requirements of fees, visas, and alien registrations but no ability to effectively process these items when people apply. The immigration lady actually seemed amused that we so fervently wanted to follow the law. Pole pole
After fingerprinting and headshots, our applications were ready to go. We were told that it would take 8 weeks to receive the passes so to check back in late November. The upside of these passes is that theoretically, you can receive entry into some national parks and other attractions for a lower residents price, plus you’re following the law which is a definite perk. We were pleased that we would receive the cards prior to our trip in early December because we wanted to visit several premium parks. We were so naive.
Of course when we called in late November, they were not yet ready. In fact they had not even come down from Nairobi yet. The story was similar in mid-December. In late December, they had been printed but not yet shipped. We finally received our cards January 15th. They expire in early February. Perfect.
When we applied back in September, our current visas expired in early February so it makes sense that they expire when they believed our visas to end. The issue now is that we’ve got visas until May 23rd when we head home but now our alien registration cards are out of date. So, today we took a little field trip to immigration as a side project from M buying reagents for his experiments.
We explained our predicament to the very nice immigration lady who promptly whipped out the alien registration form and began filling it out with our information. We explained to her that with all due respect, any new cards were certainly not going to be here before our old ones expire and that we may have already left the country when new ones arrived. She explained that they only process them in batches of 2,500 so we must have caught them at a bad time. We asked what she thought we should do about it. She smiled and indicated that we shouldn’t really worry about it since our visas were valid. Again, we insisted and held up the form indicating the Kenyan law that we have these cards, we understand that it might not “be a big deal” but we’d like to stay in compliance with Kenyan law. She just reiterated to reapply and sent us to a new clerk.
The new clerk was no more helpful but said that we could use the receipts she was giving us as proof that we had reapplied within the proper timing. We’re not sure if that would work but we’re not really planning on doing anything that draws attention to ourselves anyway and it is true that we have valid visas. It really does highlight the uneven way that things operate in Kenya. They have completely modern immigration requirements of fees, visas, and alien registrations but no ability to effectively process these items when people apply. The immigration lady actually seemed amused that we so fervently wanted to follow the law. Pole pole
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