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This will be my last blog entry, at least for this trip. I find it hard to sum up my experience in writing so I'm going to take the easy(ier) way out and make a list.
First (to get the negative over with): 10 Things I Won't Miss About Kenya
1) The constant mutterings of 'mzungu, mzungu' under people's breath as I walk down the street
2) Marriage proposals, no where near as flattering as you think when they begin with 'I love you, because you're white' and end with you forcibly removing the proposer's hands from gripping your arm and stroking your face
3) The growing slightly creepy sensation that my hair is being stroked whenever I sit in a matatu. Yes, my hair is soft, no I don't have to braid it and yes I can feel that
4) On a more serious not, being asked to help people. Sometimes it is subtle, often it is blatant but it is always exhausting. I understand why, people have incredibly hard lives here and they think any white person is both rich and omnipotent, which, in comparison to many Kenyans, we are. I wish I could help more, but I can't and it is impossible not to feel guilty about it
5) Carbs. Nearly every volunteer came to Kenya expecting to lost weight, mistaking it for somewhere like Ethiopia.The 'starving Africa' idea just doesn't hold up in Kenya. Malnourished, probably, but starving is impossible when the national dish is ugali, a mix of starch somehow magically turned into the texture of mashed potatoes that can fill you up for a day. As well as ugali, the other staples (ie. at least three quarters of every meal) are chapati, mandazi and rice. The only break is chai, a milky tea, but when it is served Kenyan style with five teaspoons of sugar, it just sends you back to the carbs for a break from overwhelming the overwhelming sweetness
6)'Where are you from? America? England?' 'No, New Zealand' 'Eh?' 'New Zealand, it's by Australia'. 'Ah, my friend from Australia'. 'No, New Zealand, the 'next to' was the key part of that sentence
7) People, often people I know well, knowing me as 'Caron', 'Caro' 'Charlo' or, my favourite, 'Carrot'. Luckily Cherotich (who, to be fair every non-Kenyan thinks is names 'Charity') has made it her life goal to correct people on this matter (she's doing a good job, it's quite scary to have a small indignant five year old shout at you 'ni Char-lot! sema Char-lot')
8) Kenyan time, and the strange way of thinking that seems to go with it which involves doing things in the most chaotic way possible. I usually add at least two hours to my estimation of how long it will take to do anything and I am shocked if anything runs smoothly, logically or on time
9)Being extremely dirty. It has reached new extremes here, and this is after backpacking in South East Asia. This is partly due to heat, unpaved roads, pollution and the fact that the water and electricity in our house keeps running out but mostly because of the children. They hygeine in the home is truly shocking and I miss that lovely sweet smell little kids usually have. I'm constantly covered in bodily fluids (I won' go into detail), dirt and bugs (I've never actually let the kids know that I don't like having cockroaches and spiders dangled in front of my face, because it will become an even funner game than it already is)
10) Children suffering. This is by the far the worst, and also the most relentless aspect of my time here in Kenya. It is everywhere, but especially in the children's home. My kids have been raped, abandoned, beaten and there is not a huge chance life is going to get much better for them. Most of them are not going to ever be part of a family, receive any ongoing love, or have anything more than the most basic education. And this is simply seen as normal by the government and children's home workers. My heart is constantly breaking for them.
And, the list that could go on forever, 10 Things I will Miss About Kenya
1) Matatus. Who doesn't want to be hurtled around the city and 140km an hour, probably by a drunk driver, squashed into a stuffy van with someone's shop's contents on your lap. Best matatu ride ever goes to a morning me, Jessie, Katie and Jared were trying to get into the city to visit a children's home. The traffic was terrible like only Nairobi traffic can be. But our matatu driver wasn't putting up with any of that and imposed ban on staying still for more than 10 seconds. Instead we took every obscure backroad, weaved through crammed cars, played chicken going the wrong way down the opposite lane and drove, four wheel drive style, up muddy banks, all while 'Wake me up before you go go' blared over the radio. Worst matatu ride goes to a three hour trip to Nyeri sitting at the very back of a matatu where either the roof was two low or the seats were too high and a certain someone sitting on me knee. That same certain someone decided this would be the optimum time to throw a tantrum when I wouldn't give her the biscuits she's spotted in my bag. Lesson learnt, always give the five year old your biscuits
2) Mugumo Lane. This has been my home for the past three months. It is a compound trying very hard to keep up with all the other affluent compounds surrounding it, but just not quite getting there. I love our huge green garden and the monkeys that play on the roof and lying in the living room in the evenings watching the geckos try and fail to catch mosquitos. Volunteers are coming in and out every two weeks, but mostly we've gotten on very well and I've made alot of good friends. Charity, our house mother, is an angel and Mouly, our non-English speaking 76 year old gardener/handy man is one of the funniest and cutest people I've ever met. We walked home from the shops together the other day and somehow managed to have a conversation the whole time
3) 'Gai!' 'eh' 'sawa, sawa' and 'sasa'
4) Never knowing how the day is going to turn out. I've ended up all over Nairobi and beyond, in all sorts of places, meeting all sorts of people, doing all sorts of random things when I walked out the door that morning thinking I was just going to have a quiet normal day. You just don't get the same degree of adventure in New Zealand.
5) The sky. It is so beautiful here, it goes on forever and makes you feel tiny
6) Greetings. They are a huge part of life here, you must say hello to everyone and ask them how they are, even if they are five metres away from you on the other side of the street and you've never met them before in your life. This must be accompanied by a 30 second handshake
7) The music. It is everywhere, and must have the optimum beat for dancing. Kenans are fantastic dancers. If I ever want to feel highly uncool in front of a bunch of five year olds, I just turn on the music at the home These kids can move their hips in ways that I can only dream of
8) Kenyans, it's a generalisation but I find Kenyans beautiful with their dark chocolate skin, full features and the women's black braided hair
9) The children. They have been through hell and they are so resiliant, smart and funny. Each of them is such an individual. Most of my best friends are now under the age of seven. I could go on and on, about Joseph, my seven year old boyfriend, who is both the biggest baby and the biggest goofball I've ever met, about Adija, the most stoic kid and the smartest I've ever met who leads a little band of stoic siblings, Muha (my little thug) and Mbure who could probably take care of herself just fine despite being only seven months old, about Leonard, about baby Jasmin, about Carlo, Jared, Risper and Nyamboura....
10)Last, but far from least, Cherotich and Maria. They are my babies and best friends. It is going to be one of the hardest things I've ever had to do saying goodbye to them on Saturday. We can't speak the same language, but we're talking to each other constantly and, now we can usually understand. They are very weird kids. Maria thinks she is a monster, has a huge attitude when you first meet her ('mzungu!') and cannot smile, only scrunch up her face and cackle. But she is such a good kid, I hardly ever have to tell her off and everytime I hug her or kiss her or tell her I love her she does her scrunched face/cackle/monster routine. Cherotich is brat, but the cutest brat imaginable. She is well versed in the art of being as adorable as possible and likes to demonstrate this by making cute faces, saying cute things and if all else fails, yelling 'cheeky monkey' and jumping in my lap and giving my a huge over the top kiss.
This doesn't really fit into the list but is too cute to leave out. I was with Charity and the girls the other day and asked Charity to translate for me and ask the them what they want to be when they grow up. Mary, Jessie's girl, sensibly wants to be a doctor. Cherotich want to be a teacher and a mother (though I suspect she was born for the stage). Maria wants to be God. I couldn't stop laughing while shocked Charity (Kenya is a very Christian country) explained that this wasn't an option. So failing being an omniscient deity, Maria decided she wanted to grow up and be 'exactly like my Charlotte'. Cue, my heart melting.
Thank you for following my blog over the last few months, I will see alot of you soon,
Charlotte
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