I wasn't sure I wanted to post this because I feel like it might just make people freak out, so please don't. I know that you worry about me, and that's why I love you guys. I also know that trouble has a way of finding me, even when I am far from it. This time I'm close. These things have now happened in the town I live in. I have not been nearby, but it's close in the grand scheme. Americans and people who Al-Shabab thinks are Americans have been kidnapped, but that is mostly near the border with Somalia which I'm about as far from as you can be while still being in the same country. Kenyans are watching out for these people. They don't want them here either. I heard some guy on the radio say that if they wanted to attack Americans they could go ahead, but stop making everyone else miserable. I only felt sad. I don't want to get blown up or kidnapped any more than the next person. Luckily that sentiment has not been echoed by anyone I know. I'm not sure what else to say except that I would love your prayers and I promise to keep my head down and not go looking for trouble.
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
Terrorists are terrorizing
God terrorism sucks. It really just needs to stop. Islam is such a beautiful faith with so much to offer this world. Terrorism should not be one of them. Does throwing a grenade into a crowed night club or a bus stop make you a more faithful person? Nope, it does not. It makes you Al-Shabab. If you have no idea what I'm talking about read this.
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
The Masai Mara
There are some places in the world where things are just more. More beautiful, more massive, more green, just more. San Diego's Zoo Safari park does a really good job of making it feel like that, but it's not. I don't care how beautiful the setting, those animals were still captured and moved to a place where they don't actually belong. They belong in the Masai Mara. Period. San Diego can't hold a candle to the actual birthplace of these beautiful creatures. I know, because I've now been to both.
I feel like I woke up this morning and wondered if this was real life. Then I looked at the pictures again. I guess it was. I am so grateful that I got to share 3 days with the world most amazing and interesting animals and people. I love Kenya. I love it, I love it, I love it.
I'm a little tempted to let the pictures speak for themselves, but I'll give you a some commentary :)
These zebras were engaged in an epic battle. As you can see, one of them is bleeding badly and it's likely this fight will carry on until on is dead or they just give up. Unfortunately, the injured zebra is now super vulnerable to predators like the lion. Guess that's the price you pay for love.
I was so lucky to see a cheetah at all, but I was even luckier to see it enjoying this Thompson gazelle. This trip has given me a new appreciation for the circle of life. It's so interesting to really see it in action.
Giraffe's are so vulnerable when they drink water and they can only do it for a minute or two at a time. I think you can see why.
You know that scene in The Lion King, right before they start the wildebeest stampede. Yeah, I was there. I was literally surrounded completely by these animals. They are so funny. Did you know that they hang out with zebras because they have terrible eyesight. Zebras can see pretty well and when they run from a predator the wildebeest follow. Now that's friendship right there.
Um... hippos are officially my favorite part of this trip!! Holy Hippo they are HUGE. Here there are at least 20. We even got to get out of the car to get closer and better photos.
This is my favorite tree from the whole trip. I was really hoping to see a leopard, but never got the chance. This is the kind of tree that leopards just love!! I totally get it.
My safari buddies and our drive/guide Peter. Super great people to do a trip like this with.
Now, welcome to Maasailand. These are some of the people who live in this place. Some worked at the camp I stayed at and some just lived nearby. They are beautiful. Can you see why the Maasai are just truly incredible?
I feel like I woke up this morning and wondered if this was real life. Then I looked at the pictures again. I guess it was. I am so grateful that I got to share 3 days with the world most amazing and interesting animals and people. I love Kenya. I love it, I love it, I love it.
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
Shirt on the Roof
Culture is a funny thing. You can grow up in a place where it makes perfect sense for everyone to own one or two or three cars. In America that seems like a perfectly acceptable thing. In fact, it even makes you better in some ways. It shows that you can afford to have an excess of these things. On the other hand, it is totally culturally acceptable in other places to buy all of your meat at an outdoor market. In America, you would probably walk past an outdoor butcher and think about how gross it is (I do) and proceed to the nearest grocery store, but not here.
I learned the other day about a cultural practice that really got me going. This is the first one that I was really shocked by. I know that there are things that happen here that I don't agree with and that is probably just because I grew up somewhere totally different, but this one was a shock to me. The person who was telling me about it just thought it was funny that I got so upset, but I don't really think it's funny. Basically, the idea is that if you are some guy and your neighbor dies and you really thought his wife was the bees knees, you could inherit her. I think inherit is the wrong word, but that's what the teller of the story said. I think a better word might be acquire. All you have to do is throw your shirt onto the roof of this dead man's house while at the funeral. AT THE FUNERAL, PEOPLE!!! Seriously!?!?! I am not kidding you. I was totally thrown by this. I felt so feminist in this moment that I felt like burning a bra right there... but I restrained myself.
Let me also say that I get it. I get that women in village culture, especially if they had a husband who did all of the money earning, would have a really hard time supporting themselves after their spouses death. I get that culturally it is then the village's responsibility to help support her and the easiest way to do that is to have her remarry. But come on! The person telling me this said that sometimes there are many men who come to the funeral with shirts over their shoulders and they walk around the house trying to find the best way to toss it up there. Whatever happened to love? What happened to personal choice? I don't know, but I do know that at least in this case I am really glad that I'm an American. Luckily he also said that this practice is a dying one. I can't say I was disappointed. I feel like it's a lot like arranged marriages; they work just fine, but no one is really very happy about the situation. I choose love. I choose choice. I think most people would too given the opportunity.
I learned the other day about a cultural practice that really got me going. This is the first one that I was really shocked by. I know that there are things that happen here that I don't agree with and that is probably just because I grew up somewhere totally different, but this one was a shock to me. The person who was telling me about it just thought it was funny that I got so upset, but I don't really think it's funny. Basically, the idea is that if you are some guy and your neighbor dies and you really thought his wife was the bees knees, you could inherit her. I think inherit is the wrong word, but that's what the teller of the story said. I think a better word might be acquire. All you have to do is throw your shirt onto the roof of this dead man's house while at the funeral. AT THE FUNERAL, PEOPLE!!! Seriously!?!?! I am not kidding you. I was totally thrown by this. I felt so feminist in this moment that I felt like burning a bra right there... but I restrained myself.
Let me also say that I get it. I get that women in village culture, especially if they had a husband who did all of the money earning, would have a really hard time supporting themselves after their spouses death. I get that culturally it is then the village's responsibility to help support her and the easiest way to do that is to have her remarry. But come on! The person telling me this said that sometimes there are many men who come to the funeral with shirts over their shoulders and they walk around the house trying to find the best way to toss it up there. Whatever happened to love? What happened to personal choice? I don't know, but I do know that at least in this case I am really glad that I'm an American. Luckily he also said that this practice is a dying one. I can't say I was disappointed. I feel like it's a lot like arranged marriages; they work just fine, but no one is really very happy about the situation. I choose love. I choose choice. I think most people would too given the opportunity.
Monday, September 26, 2011
Pepsi or Coke?
Decisions... decisions. The Pepsi or Coke issue in Kenya is such an easy one. There is only one place that sells Pepsi and it's expensive. Good thing I'd choose Coke anyway, it's just way better. If only all of our decisions in life were that easy. This feels good, or tastes good, or looks good and that's what I want. This week has been about decisions and choosing the bad, icky and ugly. I have sort of always thought about this trip as choosing the crazy thing and not necessarily the smartest or most conventional. So you'd think that I was better at choosing the harder option. Not so. I am a human. Humans make mistakes.
Thank God that humans also understand other humans or I would be in a lot more trouble than I am. My biggest mistake this week was calling someone a jerk. In America if I said, "You're a jerk" many hip young people would think of the New Boys and say, "I know." and maybe have a good laugh, because although it can be a somewhat disrespectful word, it's not like using some other choice words. It's very mild as far as insults go. In Kenya it's pretty much equivalent to calling a person the scum of the earth. In my defense, I'm new here and had NO idea that's what it meant. But really I have no excuse. I should never have said it in the first place. In this case I should have said, "you were being insensitive," instead of, "you were being a jerk." I made a huge cultural blunder and quickly found myself in a much more serious discussion than I'd intended.
Luckily, humans understand each other and after some time the situation cooled down and although I made a mistake, I hope that it's now forgiven. Pepsi and Coke are really different, but ultimately I think that in a pinch we would all be fine with either, but when you step into a completely different culture, the choices aren't that easy or flexible. Allison and I were talking and I think we both agree that the best option is always the hardest and the best path is the roughest. What a bummer. Wouldn't it be nice if we could just choose the easy, selfish thing and have it magically work out? But that's just not the way it is. I think my biggest issue this week is the "what if" game. What if I decided to do this, or that? What if I chose a different word in that doomed conversation? What if, what if, what if. I'll continue to have hard choices to make, but I hope that they get a little easier over the next few months as I get to know this role and this place a little better. I hope.
Thank God that humans also understand other humans or I would be in a lot more trouble than I am. My biggest mistake this week was calling someone a jerk. In America if I said, "You're a jerk" many hip young people would think of the New Boys and say, "I know." and maybe have a good laugh, because although it can be a somewhat disrespectful word, it's not like using some other choice words. It's very mild as far as insults go. In Kenya it's pretty much equivalent to calling a person the scum of the earth. In my defense, I'm new here and had NO idea that's what it meant. But really I have no excuse. I should never have said it in the first place. In this case I should have said, "you were being insensitive," instead of, "you were being a jerk." I made a huge cultural blunder and quickly found myself in a much more serious discussion than I'd intended.
Luckily, humans understand each other and after some time the situation cooled down and although I made a mistake, I hope that it's now forgiven. Pepsi and Coke are really different, but ultimately I think that in a pinch we would all be fine with either, but when you step into a completely different culture, the choices aren't that easy or flexible. Allison and I were talking and I think we both agree that the best option is always the hardest and the best path is the roughest. What a bummer. Wouldn't it be nice if we could just choose the easy, selfish thing and have it magically work out? But that's just not the way it is. I think my biggest issue this week is the "what if" game. What if I decided to do this, or that? What if I chose a different word in that doomed conversation? What if, what if, what if. I'll continue to have hard choices to make, but I hope that they get a little easier over the next few months as I get to know this role and this place a little better. I hope.
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
The Art of Ignoring People
In Kenya, I am one of very few white people. There are definitely some of us, but there are not many. There are also a ton of stereotypes that go along with being mzungu (white foreigner). For instance, there are a ton of people here who just assume that I have a ton of money based on the color of my skin. Or they assume that I can just become their friend and bring them back to America without any problem. I'm also a blonde mzungu, which further means that many people assume that I speak in a high voice. Not generally such a big deal, but when they call to me on the street they alter their voices so that it's really high because they think I'll understand them better. Really it just pisses me off. All of it does. Why do they feel the need to yell out "Mzungu, how are you?" from across the street? I really don't get it. Once this guy behind me just talked and talked and talked to me. I ignored him completely until he walked around me and he stopped in my path, bent over and said in his stupid fake high voice, "Jambo, how are you?" I just walked around him and carried on.
If you know anything about me, you probably have realized that I'm the biggest extrovert ever! I love talking to random people. I think it's fun and entertaining and I hope that at least some of the time it brightens people's days. But here, that I just not an option. Just about the first thing Allison told me was to just not pay any attention to people who talk to me. Thank goodness I'm good at following directions. The one time I strayed from the course, I talked to the conductor of our matatu (public transportation van thing). He was so excited that this (stupid) mzungu would talk to him that he just went on and on. By the time I'd realized my mistake, he knew my name, he'd asked for my phone number, told me we should be friends and he asked if I could take him to America. This took a grand total of about 30 seconds. I then just had to try to ignore him the best I could. I started a conversation with Allison, but he was persistent. He must have looked like an idiot talking to the back of my head for ten minutes, but whatever.
My sister is a professional at ignoring people, especially strangers. I am not. I have actually been thinking about calling her and asking her what the secret is. I forget all the time to just ignore people because the opposite comes so naturally to me. Heaven help me when I start understanding more of the Swahili thrown at me. But hey, I'll figure it out. The last thing that my good friend Magz said to me before I left was not to just trust anyone. I am so gullible and trust so easily that it worried her. I have been fine so far and although the learning curve is steep, I am learning this art. Don't pass me on the street here, I might not even realize you are there :)
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
School of the Nations
Week 2 here in Kenya. Is it weird to say that I feel like I've already feel into a little bit of a pattern? I'm just a routine loving person I guess. I can't really help it.
School of the Nations (I never know whether to put a "the" before that or not...) is where I'm working, but I'm finding that although so many nations are represented, I still just miss mine. Homesickness is the word this week. I have been listening to a lot of Owl City this week, especially Fireflies because that's pretty much the best song ever, but there is a line that I feel really describes how I feel. "I'd like to make myself believe that planet Earth turns slowly." Amen to that! I have felt this week like life in America just goes on without me and I get surprised. How dare you all continue to live normal lives! Of course, I'm kidding, but it is a strange sensation. I wish it were possible to be here and teach kids about Noah's Ark and still be a part of the goings on in the States. I keep telling myself that I'm being irrational and silly, but it doesn't seem to help (duh). I talked to a friend on the phone and I ran out of airtime in the middle of the conversation. I felt so sad when it happened that I spent the rest of my evening sulking. Then I realized that there was something really important that I wanted her to know, and that just made it worse. I have more air time now, but at the time it felt like I wasn't going to talk to her again for ages. The internet is amazing and I really appreciate how it can keep me connected to my loved ones, but it's just not the same. There are so many times that I just want a hug and there's really nowhere for me to get one here. It's just a bummer that I'm here (essentially) by myself. I would love to have someone here to debrief with about everything I'm feeling.
On the other hand (the) School of the Nations is a great place and I love it! I have always loved working with kids and now I get to do it all the time! Just today I got to teach 5 year olds about Noah and the promise God sends us in the form of a rainbow, and teach 2nd graders art, and get creative for myself, and play silly games with kids during recess. Some of you will hopefully laugh at this, but I played Big Booty with the kids on the playground and I just kept thinking about how much of a camp counselor I really am. They loved it though, especially when they got out and had to dance in the middle of the circle. People here love to dance. They just do it everywhere. I dance everywhere too, but most people (including my little sister) think it's a little weird and embarrassing. I feel like I have a whole country of kindred spirits, at least in that way. Which reminds me that I'm here for a reason. I am here because God put these people on my heart and I'm here for them and because of them. Do I miss home? Yeah, you bet I do, but I know that this is where I'm supposed to be.
School of the Nations (I never know whether to put a "the" before that or not...) is where I'm working, but I'm finding that although so many nations are represented, I still just miss mine. Homesickness is the word this week. I have been listening to a lot of Owl City this week, especially Fireflies because that's pretty much the best song ever, but there is a line that I feel really describes how I feel. "I'd like to make myself believe that planet Earth turns slowly." Amen to that! I have felt this week like life in America just goes on without me and I get surprised. How dare you all continue to live normal lives! Of course, I'm kidding, but it is a strange sensation. I wish it were possible to be here and teach kids about Noah's Ark and still be a part of the goings on in the States. I keep telling myself that I'm being irrational and silly, but it doesn't seem to help (duh). I talked to a friend on the phone and I ran out of airtime in the middle of the conversation. I felt so sad when it happened that I spent the rest of my evening sulking. Then I realized that there was something really important that I wanted her to know, and that just made it worse. I have more air time now, but at the time it felt like I wasn't going to talk to her again for ages. The internet is amazing and I really appreciate how it can keep me connected to my loved ones, but it's just not the same. There are so many times that I just want a hug and there's really nowhere for me to get one here. It's just a bummer that I'm here (essentially) by myself. I would love to have someone here to debrief with about everything I'm feeling.
On the other hand (the) School of the Nations is a great place and I love it! I have always loved working with kids and now I get to do it all the time! Just today I got to teach 5 year olds about Noah and the promise God sends us in the form of a rainbow, and teach 2nd graders art, and get creative for myself, and play silly games with kids during recess. Some of you will hopefully laugh at this, but I played Big Booty with the kids on the playground and I just kept thinking about how much of a camp counselor I really am. They loved it though, especially when they got out and had to dance in the middle of the circle. People here love to dance. They just do it everywhere. I dance everywhere too, but most people (including my little sister) think it's a little weird and embarrassing. I feel like I have a whole country of kindred spirits, at least in that way. Which reminds me that I'm here for a reason. I am here because God put these people on my heart and I'm here for them and because of them. Do I miss home? Yeah, you bet I do, but I know that this is where I'm supposed to be.
Monday, September 5, 2011
Just Squint
If you squint your eyes and look at my life in Kenya you might not think too much of it. My room looks like a room. I have Internet access. I go to work in the morning. I eat dinner with my hosts. I went to the Anglican church on Sunday. But as soon as you're not squinting anymore.... it's definitely Kenya, not America.
As soon as I got off the plane my first thought was, oh gosh, I'm not walking straight into the airport, they are driving me there on a bus! And then when I did get in the airport I thought, oh gosh, I don't think there's air conditioning in this building. And then at immigration I thought, oh gosh, there is nothing really stopping me from just walking though and not stopping. I could keep this list going, but I think you get the idea. Every second I was attacked with something new and crazy to me. Like the traffic! Holy cow! So many people engage in what's called "overlapping." It's like passing, but you can drive on the sidewalk, the median, the other side of the road (who cares if a car is coming that direction), anywhere! It's so funny! Not to mention that they drive on the left side of the road and cars have steering wheels on the right. I don't like sitting in the front seat, because it makes me feel really uncomfortable.
If you squint everything is similar enough for it to be recognizable, but then you open your eyes and it's not at all. The mataus look like vans, but they are actually the public transportation and they are the worst drivers of all! Chipatis look like tortillas, but they are fluffier and way more delicious. Ugali looks like a mashed potato cake, but it tastes more like a mushy corn tortilla. The prices all look very high (200 shillings for milk?!?!) but 100 shillings is only worth 1 dollar. I can make international phone calls from my phone for 3 shillings a minute, so 3 minutes is still less than 1 penny. Imagine that! The trees look like trees and the birds look like birds, but this kind of wildlife I've only ever seen in zoos.
Everything is so strange, but everyday it feels a little more normal and home-y. When I walk to the mall (where the grocery store and phone company and everything is) I have to be careful of overlapping cars and avoid the curious stares. I'm just going to say it, it's really strange to go from being the majority to being a minority. Everyone looks at me like I'm from Mars or something. Is that what it feels like for blacks in America?!?! I sure hope not, because it makes me feel uncomfortable and vulnerable. Maybe someday soon the people I walk past everyday will start recognizing me and STOP STARING! Or maybe it's me, with my crazy, amazed look on my face that I can't shake. Because I'm not squinting! I'm taking it all in.
As soon as I got off the plane my first thought was, oh gosh, I'm not walking straight into the airport, they are driving me there on a bus! And then when I did get in the airport I thought, oh gosh, I don't think there's air conditioning in this building. And then at immigration I thought, oh gosh, there is nothing really stopping me from just walking though and not stopping. I could keep this list going, but I think you get the idea. Every second I was attacked with something new and crazy to me. Like the traffic! Holy cow! So many people engage in what's called "overlapping." It's like passing, but you can drive on the sidewalk, the median, the other side of the road (who cares if a car is coming that direction), anywhere! It's so funny! Not to mention that they drive on the left side of the road and cars have steering wheels on the right. I don't like sitting in the front seat, because it makes me feel really uncomfortable.
If you squint everything is similar enough for it to be recognizable, but then you open your eyes and it's not at all. The mataus look like vans, but they are actually the public transportation and they are the worst drivers of all! Chipatis look like tortillas, but they are fluffier and way more delicious. Ugali looks like a mashed potato cake, but it tastes more like a mushy corn tortilla. The prices all look very high (200 shillings for milk?!?!) but 100 shillings is only worth 1 dollar. I can make international phone calls from my phone for 3 shillings a minute, so 3 minutes is still less than 1 penny. Imagine that! The trees look like trees and the birds look like birds, but this kind of wildlife I've only ever seen in zoos.
Everything is so strange, but everyday it feels a little more normal and home-y. When I walk to the mall (where the grocery store and phone company and everything is) I have to be careful of overlapping cars and avoid the curious stares. I'm just going to say it, it's really strange to go from being the majority to being a minority. Everyone looks at me like I'm from Mars or something. Is that what it feels like for blacks in America?!?! I sure hope not, because it makes me feel uncomfortable and vulnerable. Maybe someday soon the people I walk past everyday will start recognizing me and STOP STARING! Or maybe it's me, with my crazy, amazed look on my face that I can't shake. Because I'm not squinting! I'm taking it all in.
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