Kijabe Living

So while M is spending his time in the OR, I needed to find something to occupy my time. Per usual, it was impossible to set something up prior to arriving in Kijabe so I set about doing what I always do in Kenya: make it up as I go along.

The first order of business on Monday was keeping the doctor fed and watered. This is the first time in Kenya that we've lived in a town without a large food store. Although there are some small shops and a vegetable market, food shopping leaves much to be desired. The small shops carry about as much stuff as a mid-sized gas station so I've been having fun thinking up meals. The veggies are amazing though because of the constant growing season up here so we're definitely taking advantage of all of it. In addition to the food, we still need to purchase or boil/strain all of our water so I walked home with a 5 liter jug of water on my head. I still have to steady it with my hand but I've been practicing and my neck is getting stronger. Honestly, it's not that much easier than carrying things in your hands but the looks I get are priceless.

Tuesday dawned and M headed to the hospital (100 yards away). I had heard a tip that sometimes they needed volunteers to help prep the surgical kits so I headed down to the OR to see what I could find. I think they thought I was really weird but they gave me a gown, shoe covers, gloves, and a fancy hairnet and led me into the room where they prep the kits.

So as we've previously mentioned, very little in a Kenyan hospital is disposable and nothing is bought in a pre-packaged kit. So, if you've ever seen anyone tear open a packet of neatly folded and sterilized gauze, those have to be assembled by hand in Kenya. First, you take a giant 5-ft roll of gauze and cut a 6-inch square, then you fold it in thirds, and then in halves to make a neat little gauze towel. Now repeat for 2 hours. Then we prepared cotton balls and no, they don't buy the pre-packaged ones from CVS. They have a giant ball of cotton batting so you tear it off, ball it up in your hand, and make a cotton ball. Once we had prepped enough gauze and cotton balls, we began preparing kits.

Gauze piles:


When a surgeon enters the OR for a case, there are usually one or more specialized kits available with all the necessary tools for the procedure. So for example, the kit contains different instruments for a c-section vs. an ACL repair.

You can see pediatric instruments to the left in this photo as well as the bowls for gauze/cotton balls:


So with a really loud noise, several men entered and dumped all of the instruments used in the previous day's surgeries on the table. These instruments had already been washed at least once and now were ready to be re-packed. Everything was in a giant jumble: forceps, rods, basins, bowls, speculums, scalpels, etc.

They taught me to put together some of the basic kits and we began to assemble the instruments and the appropriate amount of gauze and cotton balls. When complete, these were wrapped in surgical material (the same material the surgical scrubs are made of) and taped closed. This entire packet goes into the auto-clave to be sterilized and then can be used in surgery. It had never occurred to me that they have to sterilize the gauze and cotton balls used in Kenya because they can't buy them sterile. It was amazing.

Another interesting thing was this sewing machine. They sew and repair all the sheets, surgical clothes, and scrubs onsite. Nothing is thrown away. I saw them piece together scraps in a sort of madras style surgical towel (I guarantee that sentence has never been written before now) so as not to waste anything.



Anyway, tomorrow I'm going to do something new since one can only fold gauze for a few hours before dying of boredom (well, if you're a spoiled American). It was really interesting though to see the functional pieces of the OR kits that the doctors use everyday so I'm glad I did it.

God bless the rains down in Africa

You didn’t think we would end the blog without a reference to the 80s song by Toto, did you? After waiting, 5+ months for daytime rain, we’ve reached the rainy season. We had no rain in Diani from October until late March when it began to rain overnight. Now that we’ve reached April, it is officially the rainy season and it is raining during the day!

In Kenya, they don’t celebrate spring, summer, winter, and fall and you’ll get funny looks if you refer to those seasons. They have short rains, long rains, and the rest of the time it’s just sunny. It was actually quite amusing learning the unit “weather” with the children at school because there were only four types of weather: sunny, cloudy, windy, or raining. No snow, sleet, hail, fog, or other unsavory weathers. Just sun or rain.

April and May are the long rains in Kenya meaning that it rains for longer than 5 minutes and can occasionally go the whole day punctuated by periods of the usual heat and humidity. During the hot, dry season (Dec-March), Mombasa only averages 2 cm of rain per month but in the rainy season, that climbs to 30 cm.

These pictures were taken 2 weeks apart. The difference is profound:





The effects of rain aren't limited, however, to grass growth. Remember for M's UTI project there was a lot of airborne contamination of the sample plates? That has been almost completely eliminated since it started raining because the contaminants are no longer in the air. We're expecting mold growth at any time from the dampness... So much for consistent experimental conditions.

I have always loved the smell of rain. It’s not really a smell you can describe but it’s always been a favorite of mine. Let me tell you, there is nothing so wonderful as the smell of rain in Africa after 5 months without it. It was so dry and dusty that the air was filmy and filtered before the rains started. The rain is such a blessing here.

Our first rain in Msambweni, we ran outside to play in the rain barefoot. Needless to say, the locals think we're crazy.



"It’s gonna take a lot to drag me away from you"



"There’s nothing that a hundred men or more could ever do"



"I bless the rains down in Africa, I bless the rains down in Africa"

Road Warriors

Next week, M's friend from college JPB is coming to visit! We are thrilled to host him on a tour of East Africa. We'll update more on the itinerary later but we thought we'd show you what he's in for on our bus rides.

Here is a video taken from our bus ride home from Kilimanjaro. This is in southern Kenya near a town called Voi.

A few things to really appreciate:

1. Kenyans drive on the left side of the road. Notice, however, the
driver 'skillfully' using the entire road to find the route that he
likes best. In fact, he even uses both shoulders when he finds them
to be less potholed than the actual roads.
2. Notice the oncoming car doing the same and almost hitting us.
3. That hissing sound that keeps going on and off is the brakes
4. We almost hit a donkey.

Goat Addendum

We are just constantly amused by the goats that surround us here, so here’s an update of all things goat:

1) Goats make great presents. We bought our friends three goats as their wedding gift.

If you recall, we were in charge of the gift table at the wedding and there was some question as to our qualifications in the case of live presents. Luckily, no one gifted a live goat so goat wrangling was not part of our wedding-day duties.

2) Downward-facing goat is going to be the hot new yoga pose



3) Goats like to gather under the shade of the old gum tree during the heat of the day with their babies, it's really cute:





4) However you shouldn't be fooled by the cuteness because the goat antichrist lives in Msambweni.

This requires some explanation. A few months ago, while walking between buildings at the hospital, I passed by a certain black goat, that made the most horrific sound. I did the impression several times for E, and I thought that she was going to hit me because it was such an annoying sound. I don’t think that she believed that it was real, but just a few days ago, she finally heard it for herself, and she is now a believer. I was fortunate enough to capture it on film for the very first time to share it with the world. This goat may go viral.



Also, E pointed out that this beast is actually a sheep, not a goat. However, we’ve decided that it’s likely a goat in sheep’s clothing, being the antichrist and all.

5) Pregnant goats appear to have swallowed several watermelon (check out the goat on the left)



6) If your dog bites a neighbors goat, it may evolve into a months-long drama

A few months ago, our friends’ dog attacked a neighbor’s two goats. One escaped with just a few punctures, but the other was bitten in the neck and was having difficulty eating and drinking. The neighbor then demanded that Chris pay him 40,000 KSH (about $500) for damages. This makes very little sense, as a good goat costs no more than 4,000 KSH, thus 8,000 should have been the maximum penalty.

Incidentally, Kenyans know the price of a good goat at all times. Goat prices are the Kenyan equivalent of the Nasdaq. This logic involving the real price of goats did not persuade the man, so Chris had to go to the village elders to discuss the matter. The elders agreed that the man was being ridiculous, and that he only had to pay for the value of the goats, assuming they died. After some penicillin and TLC, both goats survived and have since had baby goats. However, one of the goats had twin goat babies and one of the babies died, which resurrected the goat saga after a two month hiatus. The owner claims that it is due to the “dog poison”, and that Chris should pay him 10,000 KSH (about $125). Chris asserted that his dog is non-poisonous, and again, the price of an adult goat is no more than 4,000.

The guy would not back down so in the spirit of neighborly behavior, Chris offered to pay the man 8,000 and to keep the goats since he would have effectively bought them. The man countered with Chris paying 10,000 and that he keep the goats. Chris realized this was going nowhere so he offered the man 1,000 KSH as an apology with no goat exchange required. The man was so offended by this gesture that he stormed off deciding that making a good scene was better than taking “only” 1,000 shillings.

Anyway, they are an endless source of amusement and traffic jams so we wanted to share them with you all.

The brightest room in Kenya

You may have gathered from our other blogs that the coast is very different from the rest of Kenya. The coast still has significant Swahili and Muslim influences whereas the rest of the country is heavily influenced by Europe and the US.

In most of the country, Kenyans wear clothes indistinguishable from those worn in the U.S. Some years ago, second-hand clothing was introduced in Kenya and it has since become a massive industry. Supporters say that the second-hand clothes provides low-cost clothing to people who otherwise couldn’t afford clothing while detractors argue that it hurts the local textile industries and reduces them to creating novelty fabrics for tourists. Additionally, we’ve heard multiple rumors that much of this clothing as been donated in clothing drives in the U.S. and Europe only to be sold to Africans so that middle-men become rich. The introduction of “western-style” clothes means that most people in Kenya wear jeans, t-shirts, business suits, sneakers, and high heels instead of traditional clothing except on rare occasions.

The coastal people deviate from the U.S. influenced dress. Men wear the bright color kikoi as skirts and women usually wrap themselves in 2-3 different kangas. The women here adhere to traditional modesty so they are completely covered except for their faces and hands. While such attire seems oppressive when they wear the black bui buis, most coastal women favor head to toe kangas in many beautiful colors. This gives them a lot more choice of colors and patterns and somehow seems much more expressive than the U.S.-inspired dress or traditional Muslim clothing.

The kangas are truly beautiful on their own but when many women are together, it’s an unbelievable riot of color. Since M’s study focuses on children ages 0-3, each morning the waiting area next to the lab is filled with mother’s and young children wearing these gorgeous kangas. As part of documenting the study, I was permitted to take a few photos and I snapped some of my favorite photos in Kenya. I think the pictures speak for themselves.

Heshora weighing a pregnant mama: (notice her belly covered in kanga)


The outer waiting area:


The inner waiting area:




That is one seriously cute bum:

E’s siku ya kuzaliwa (birthday)!

Sunday was E’s birthday! We celebrated, Kenyan-style, of course.



Saturday night was a full moon. We’ve heard that it is the brightest full moon in 20 years. Not sure why, but we’re calling this one E’s Birthday moon. See below:



Later that night I took her to one of the nicer restaurants in Diani: Ali Barbour’s Cave Restaurant. That's right, folks, this restaurant is in a coral cave that’s about 100,000ish years old. While most caves elicit thoughts of dankness, this cave is actually open air; it was awesome to look up and see the starry sky. The food was great, and it was topped off by the waiters bringing a cake with basically a roman candle shooting fire out of the top. Like all cake in Kenya, it was super dry, but we ordered some banana and mango flambé which more than made up for it.

Enjoying a Tusker like a lady Sultan:



The cave bar:



The view of the sky from our table:




Sunday morning was pancakes, omelets, and fresh fruit. A few weeks ago we met a local artist and E had her eye on a particular painting, so I covertly bought it for her as a gift. I wanted it to be a surprise, but quickly realized that we’re basically together all of the time, so last week when we got home from work one day, I just said rather awkwardly “I have to go out for a while”. She gave me a crooked look, and being the bright girl that she is, I’m sure knew what was going on, so let me go without further questions.



We topped off the birthday weekend with a mango birthday cake. And by cake I mean mango with a candle in it. We’ve gotta get in the mangos while we still have the chance!

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.

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.

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

The Ants Go Marching (Through Everything!)

I returned to the coast on Friday afternoon after an enjoyable ride down from Nairobi with Jamie, Linda, and 3 college girls who came in from the US to work with Linda in her slum ministry over the next few months. It was really fun meeting everyone and sharing our experiences with the girls. Linda and Jamie have much more experience here than I do but I was able to describe to them some of the things that Linda and Jamie don’t do like ride matatus or getting harassed while running.

We had a nice weekend that included a uniquely Kenyan meeting of a “wedding committee” (more on that later this week) and of course I unpacked and got ready to return to school.

Returning to the coast from Nairobi pretty much always means sweating. You go from 5,000 ft above sea level and 75 degrees to sea level, 95 degrees, and 98% humidity. You get seriously, seriously sweaty almost instantly. Not like, ooh, I’m a little warm. More like sweat rolling down the backs of your legs, your arms, and your neck while you’re doing nothing more than sitting in a chair. Like you stick to every chair you sit on and you have a bum shaped wet spot on your skirt when you stand up (yeah, it’s awesome and not at all embarrassing). And my personal favorite, if you reach up to touch the hair touching your neck it’s so damp that you can ring it out. I haven’t worn my hair down in Diani in 2 months and I’m pretty sure that streak will continue until April when the heat allegedly breaks. You drink water all day long and never have to use the bathroom because you dehydrate that fast. Even the Kenyans are hot at this point; the weather is basically the first topic of conversation with almost everyone. I am still happy to be avoiding the blizzards in the Northeast but it’s definitely an adjustment.

While the humans are suffering, the insects (wadudu in Kiswahili) are thriving! Any tiny speck of food is instantly swarmed by ants, and this morning we had no fewer than 10 flies at breakfast. We ate in less than 10 minutes because as we’ve learned, eating slower just draws more flies.

The upside though is that I’ve learned new skills. Ever wonder how to get ants out of your sugar? I know that you’re thinking, “you throw out the sugar” but that’s a very American answer. The Kenyan answer is to heat up the sugar bowl! They crawl right out and run away.

Those black specks are ants in the sugar and there are thousands:




Know how to stop a line of ants in their tracks? Sprinkle baby powder across your doors and windows, they won’t cross that line and it smells good!

Can’t keep ants out of your baking? Prepare everything in bowls on plates filled with water! Having fun yet?

There are even ants in Tanzania that bite so hard you can use them as sutures in the bush. Actually, they’re more like surgical staples. Let them use their huge, scary pincher jaws to bite closed your wound, and then separate their heads from their bodies!

Anyway, it’s become sort of a game to stay one step ahead of the insects. The one insect that has so far outsmarted us though is the mosquito (pronounced mos-skwee-toe here). Most of the time, M is completely immune but I seem to collect 3-4 bites per day. I think we’ve mentioned that we’ve got separate twin beds (it’s cool, we pretend like we’re my grandparents) but there is an unexpected benefit of this. You see, M’s feet actually stick way, way out of the bed and this lifts up the mosquito net:



M, being immune, has no problem with this and rarely even gets a bite. On the rare occasions that we have shared a bed when we travel, I get eaten alive as M’s feet give them a convenient little entry under the net. It’s basically a decision between me staying up all night swatting mosquitos and him staying up all night since he doesn’t sleep at all unless he’s more stretched out. So, as much as it’s weird to have separate beds, I guess it serves the purpose of preventing me from contracting malaria so it’s probably worth it.

Here I am under my net!


Hope you all have a great week and stay warm!

Now I've Seen Hell

I went to Huruma and Githogoro, two Nairobi slums, last Thursday. And it’s like nothing you’ve ever really seen because it's absolutely hellish.

This visit was one of the main reasons we joined Chris, Jamie, and their family on the roadtrip to Nairobi. Over New Years, we met some family friends of theirs, Linda, Jim, and their 3 kids. Linda and Jim live on the Baptist missionary compound in Nairobi and work with the slum and media teams. When Linda offered me the chance to see the slums, I knew I could not pass it up because I felt like it’s a really crucial part of the story of Kenya.

Over a million people in Nairobi live in slums or kijiji which means that 1/3 of the people living in Nairobi live in slums. Pick any huge problem and it’s here: lack of water, electricity, medical care, and nearby schools mean extreme hardship for the people who live in the slums. Compounding the problem is unemployment since the few jobs available to slum residents are typically a several hour commute through notorious Nairobi traffic. And those are just the resource-related problems. Rapes and other violent acts are extremely common and the lack of toilets means that most human waste is put into plastic bags and just thrown outside the houses. So there are the human dignity problems as well.

Linda works directly with local churches so that she can be introduced to connectors within the slums and to increase the safety of her work there.

Our first visit was to Rose. Rose is HIV positive and had been moved that day to a home for the elderly within the slums. She is about 45 years old but looks about 85 and probably weighs about 70 pounds. Rosemary is a woman who works on the Baptist compound and has been accompanying Linda in her slum work for the last 2 years.



Rose's current condition is actually an improvement from a few months ago when she was blind. She has become a Christian in the last few months and Linda has been encouraged by how much more hopeful she has been in the last few weeks. Even though she had just lost her home on the day we visited, she was still in remarkable spirits. The home for the elderly doesn’t know about her HIV positive status so we were careful to not mention it. Linda is hopeful that living in a community as opposed to by herself in the slums will be safer.

As we discussed her health, several other women came up to discuss medical issues. Although we’re not medically trained, several of the diagnoses were quite obvious including a dislocated and fractured arm and shingles. We were powerless to do anything for these women because Linda’s ministry has very little money and of course dispensing so much as an aspirin will create a stampede. It was so frustrating to see problems that are solved so simply in the US with medication but I was somewhat prepared for that.

Our second visit was to several women with whom Linda does Bible study every week. On the way there, we ran into about 20 kids who followed us through the slum and eventually crowded into the home that the woman lived in with her grandchildren and goats. Yes, the goats live inside so they aren't stolen. And grandmas raising babies is extremely common since the HIV/AIDS crisis began.

The kids are so sweet but they run up and grab your hands and try to take off your watches or rings. They are used to wazungu (white people) stopping by for photo ops and to drop off food and sweets and leaving. Nairobi slums are notorious for Hollywood celebrities or sports stars (especially soccer players) showing up for 20 minutes before going to their hotels. The people here need all the help they can get but you can tell that the adults are very wary of outsiders for this reason. Why trust anyone will actually help you consistently if people usually leave?

There’s not much more to say except that I am continuously humbled by this place. I think the pictures probably do it more justice than I can:





This little girl was totally calm as I took her photo but when I said "Wewe ni mrembo" (you are beautiful) to her, she started bawling. She had never seen a mzungu before so the fact that I could talk, really scared her: