That's right, I had another run-in with the police. But this time I won. (Read about the first time here: http://sspayneinkenya.blogspot.com/2009/01/first-brush-with-corruption.html)
Quite similarly to last time, I was in a taxi on a main road in Nairobi. I was with Alain (the guy I went to Rwanda with) and we were going out for a nice Italian dinner, so we were dressed nicely. And of course we came across a road block, quite typical in the Nairobi night. I hurriedly whispered to Alain that whoops, we weren't wearing our seatbelts (it was such a short drive, less than $3), but that these weren't traffic cops and I wouldn't bribe them at all, that I was going to be difficult. I'm not sure he got everything I said, but soon enough the cops were shining their lights on us and asking Alain to get out of the car. Of course, they asked for his ID but not mine. I could tell that they were debating the rules and if Alain and I should be let go. I motioned Alain over to me and told him to tell the policeman we were refusing any monkey business. Then Alain had an idea.
Alain's uncle is the Rwandan ambassador to Kenya (cool, eh?), and Alain has often accompanied him on interesting diplomatic trips, so he knew a little bit about those systems. Alain told me to pretend I was going to call "the office," and later to ask for the officer's name and registration number. I got out of the car and acted angry, and impatient. Eventually I took my phone out, and said, with much authority, "I'm going to call the office, this is ridiculous." Alain feigned annoyance. "No, don't do that, if you call them this will become a long ordeal!" Alain then spoke to the police in Swahili, saying, "If she calls her office, this will take so long, the diplomatic police are like that." I paced around a little bit with my phone in my hand, while the policeman hesitantly debated how much a bribe should be. Again, I picked up my phone, making a fake important phone call - "Can I have your name please? I think I really need to call the office." Once again Alain took the phone out of my hand, insisting that I shouldn't. The policeman looked from Alain to me and waved at us to get back into the car and go. Bribe free.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Friday, March 27, 2009
Chicken Update
A few people have inquired about the state of the chicken that was given to me as a gift - for dinner. My chicken, which I named Gweno (Luo for chicken), is alive and well! It has a "NO EAT" order on it's cute little head. When it came to me, it was really skinny and unhealthy and someone had plucked its tail feathers (how rude!). But now, it's chubby and shiny and full of feathers! It is also part of our family of chickens. I guess it has to stay in Kenya, but I will maintain that my family not eat it. Unfortunately, it won't make eggs until after I leave! Boo! But I love my Gweno anyway.
Saturday, March 21, 2009
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Homestead Update
Robbery on the homestead! The other day, three of our four goats (the she-goat and her two kids) were out and about looking for green grass to munch on. At 6pm, they didn't return home! My family searched and searched, for two days, and they were no where to be found. Turns out that many people have lost goats or sheep lately to a THIEF! Who sells the animals during the night! Unfortunately, losing any sort of livestock is a huge loss. They're an important investment here.
The same day, a baby sheep was born! How cute! So we sold the lonely he-goat and got another sheep. So 0 goats, 6 sheep. I preferred the goats.
The same day, a baby sheep was born! How cute! So we sold the lonely he-goat and got another sheep. So 0 goats, 6 sheep. I preferred the goats.
The Basics: Inequality
I was brainstorming the other day on things that I could write about on my blog, and I realized that I've really skipped some of the most fundamental topics about Kenya. Things like poverty, religion, crime, etc.: These are so important and so obvious, but they are hard to talk about. First of all, I want to be fair and sensitive to the issues, and speak to them in a way that is accurate and politically correct. This is kind of hard right now, because what's considered impolite and polite here is SO different than in the US. Let me explain: Here, people don't act like we're all equal, because clearly we're not. Here, there are distinct classes. There are the poor, and the rich. And the poor wait on the rich and no one is uncomfortable with this. For instance, when I am at work, me and the boss will be given a soda. Me because I'm white, the boss because she's in charge. All the community health workers can look on and see that they are of a different "level," but this is accepted here. Of course at first, this made me really uncomfortable. I didn't want to be viewed differently, I wanted to "fit in!" YEAH RIGHT. Not possible here. I've had to let that go. If I try to push that I'm equal, it's actually considered very impolite. How dare I refuse that soda because 30 poor people are watching me! Now on the other hand, in the United States, we like to pretend we're all equal. We all say we're middle class, we deny racism, we hate to discuss inequal gender roles; and in many ways we are a much more "middle class" society in the US. In Kenya though, the differences are glaring instead of subtle.
My point here is that I've gotten comfortable with inequality. It doesn't shock me. I speak frankly about race, which can rub people the wrong way (with very good reason). On top of my desensitization, the vocabulary used in Kenya is quite different. You can outright call someone fat (I get it everyday), you can straight call someone "black" or "white" or "Indian," without the awkwardness there is in the US. To top off my discussion difficulties, I am so emotionally entrenched in these things. I have great bitterness about the way I'm viewed here, as a bag of money or a woman to receive cat calls. I have great bitterness about the government's blatant corruption, which is feeding my Kisumu family's poverty. So when I talk about things I can get angry.
I want to talk about these things though. I can't leave this country without explaining to all my family and friends exactly what the poverty is like, or without telling you how incredibly passionate religion is here. You would miss some of the most influential parts of this place. So this is what I will try to do in the next few posts: tell you the basics.
My point here is that I've gotten comfortable with inequality. It doesn't shock me. I speak frankly about race, which can rub people the wrong way (with very good reason). On top of my desensitization, the vocabulary used in Kenya is quite different. You can outright call someone fat (I get it everyday), you can straight call someone "black" or "white" or "Indian," without the awkwardness there is in the US. To top off my discussion difficulties, I am so emotionally entrenched in these things. I have great bitterness about the way I'm viewed here, as a bag of money or a woman to receive cat calls. I have great bitterness about the government's blatant corruption, which is feeding my Kisumu family's poverty. So when I talk about things I can get angry.
I want to talk about these things though. I can't leave this country without explaining to all my family and friends exactly what the poverty is like, or without telling you how incredibly passionate religion is here. You would miss some of the most influential parts of this place. So this is what I will try to do in the next few posts: tell you the basics.
Monday, March 16, 2009
Mama Herine
I could write a short book about my host mom in Kisumu. Oh, amazing, funny, and harsh Herine. She is sort and generally petite, but strong in that she packs a big personality into her small body. She even offers to run with me in the morning. Her hair is kept short, because it saves money. She has the dark skin, thick hair, and high cheek bones that are characteristic of the Luos in Western Kenya. The first thing I noticed abot her is her voice - it's commanding to say the least. It's like no one taught her the difference between the "inside" and "outside" voice. Every animal on the whole homestead listens to her. A dog wanders in the house, and she yells in Luo, and it quickly exits. Even the chickens listen.
These commands are not limited to the animals. All of us kids in the house, including now myself, get scolded. Sometimes I walk around barefoot and that is simply not alright. Or maybe I need to come to the table immediately for tea! We regularly laugh and happily follow her orders.
Don't let this assertiveness let you think she's too harsh or not fun-loving. She loves a lot like she speaks - fiercely. She takes care of all six kids, including paying for six sets of very expensive school fees. She feeds us all, takes care of us when we're sick, and still works a full-time job as a maternity nurse. Een me, once I was nauseated in the middle of the night, and she sat with me for hours while I say complaining and spitting into a plastic bag.
There are other things she loves, like her chickens. She says they "really help me a lot," because they give us eggs and occassionally we eat a chicken. This is essentially free food and free protein, for a family that works a lot but doesn't have a lot of money. She always feeds the chickens in the house, which teaches them to hang out there. Once one tried to lay its eggs on her bed.
Once, my host-brother Issac was treating our house with very potent chemicals to kill the cockroaches. There was a small chicken that I named "the ugly duckling," because it was the last of 18 chickens that had lived, but it was very weak and missing quite a few feathers. I really liked this one and I fed it specially in hopes of it growing up healthy. But back to the cockroaches, the slow-moving ones that had chemicals on them were a feast for the chickens. Issac put the ugly duckling into the cupboard to let it eat the dying bugs. I warned him, fervently, that the duckling would die from eating the poison. Being a 17 year-old boy, he just laughed.
The next morning, the ugly duckling couldn't walk and was having seizures. Within the hour it died in Winnie's hands. I was annoyed, since I had been taking special care of this one and I admired its will to live. When Mama found out what had happened, she described her feelings: "Issac is too annoying! I don't even want to see him at all today. He's too stupid!"
There are things she often mentions, like how "African men are polygamous by nature" and even "bad creatures." She speaks of the goodness of her children and their willingness to work, whether it's in fetching water, cooking, building a fence, or planting trees. She hates that her concrete floor was poorly made and has disintegrated into dirt again.
She is my fiercest advocate and a good friend. We laugh, have frank discussions, and learn from one another. There is no other woman like her in Kenya.
These commands are not limited to the animals. All of us kids in the house, including now myself, get scolded. Sometimes I walk around barefoot and that is simply not alright. Or maybe I need to come to the table immediately for tea! We regularly laugh and happily follow her orders.
Don't let this assertiveness let you think she's too harsh or not fun-loving. She loves a lot like she speaks - fiercely. She takes care of all six kids, including paying for six sets of very expensive school fees. She feeds us all, takes care of us when we're sick, and still works a full-time job as a maternity nurse. Een me, once I was nauseated in the middle of the night, and she sat with me for hours while I say complaining and spitting into a plastic bag.
There are other things she loves, like her chickens. She says they "really help me a lot," because they give us eggs and occassionally we eat a chicken. This is essentially free food and free protein, for a family that works a lot but doesn't have a lot of money. She always feeds the chickens in the house, which teaches them to hang out there. Once one tried to lay its eggs on her bed.
Once, my host-brother Issac was treating our house with very potent chemicals to kill the cockroaches. There was a small chicken that I named "the ugly duckling," because it was the last of 18 chickens that had lived, but it was very weak and missing quite a few feathers. I really liked this one and I fed it specially in hopes of it growing up healthy. But back to the cockroaches, the slow-moving ones that had chemicals on them were a feast for the chickens. Issac put the ugly duckling into the cupboard to let it eat the dying bugs. I warned him, fervently, that the duckling would die from eating the poison. Being a 17 year-old boy, he just laughed.
The next morning, the ugly duckling couldn't walk and was having seizures. Within the hour it died in Winnie's hands. I was annoyed, since I had been taking special care of this one and I admired its will to live. When Mama found out what had happened, she described her feelings: "Issac is too annoying! I don't even want to see him at all today. He's too stupid!"
There are things she often mentions, like how "African men are polygamous by nature" and even "bad creatures." She speaks of the goodness of her children and their willingness to work, whether it's in fetching water, cooking, building a fence, or planting trees. She hates that her concrete floor was poorly made and has disintegrated into dirt again.
She is my fiercest advocate and a good friend. We laugh, have frank discussions, and learn from one another. There is no other woman like her in Kenya.
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Epilogue: The Househelp
It was a night in Gisenyi. I had the house to myself, everyone else had gone out to clubs but I was tired. I was in bed, almost asleep, when I heard something rustling around outside my window. I immediately froze, and my heart started thumping. Eventually the noise calmed down, and I snuck out of bed. I kept the lights off so I could see outside, and I crawled on the floor over to the window. I was as quiet as I could be. I looked outside my window and what did I see?
The househelp, sleeping outside in the cold lake wind, on cardboard, guarding the house.
The househelp, sleeping outside in the cold lake wind, on cardboard, guarding the house.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
The Househelp (it's a long one)
Having househelp is ubiqutous in the wealth circles of Africa. This isn't househelp like me cleaning a house, as I did in high school or during summers. In many cases, this is full-time, live-in, servent kind of househelp.
Until coming to Rwanda, I hadn't had much experience with this. When I returned to Nairobi after my first stay in Kisumu, my host-mom had acquired an old Luo lady to come Mon-Wed-Fri to do the laundry, clean up the house, and cook a couple of meals. I was ecstatic. This not only meant that my laundry would get done far more frequently than before, but that the disgustingly dirty, cock-roach infested house might improve a bit. Francisca, her name is, really only spoke Dholuo and did a decent job of the laundry. She often overstretched my clothes, but hey, I wasn't the one paying her, so I didn't think I could complain.
Once, in a funny combination of Dholuo, Kiswahili, and broken English, she told me she would love me very much if I gave her one of my lesos (leosos are handy pieces of cloth used as a skirt or shawl or towlen or table cloth or sheet - you get the picture). She had noticed, undoubtedly through doing my laundry, that I had 4. Two Kikoy ones, coastal woven cloth of fairy high quality, and two khangas, Tanzanian dyed cloth of somewhat lower quality. I really did have plenty. And I knew she lived in Kibera, the huge slum next door, was widowed with a gaggle of children, and definitely didn't have water or electricity even though she was living in one of the biggest, most developed cities in Eastern Africa. How messed up would it be for me not to give away something I could replace with less than $5? After about 10 seconds of thinking, I handed her a Kikoy leso I bought my first time in Lamu with David. She said God would bless me.
But in Rwanda, I've come across a whole other kind of househelp than before. The first house I stayed in in Rwanda was that of Alain's sister, Liliane (Alan and Lillian in English). The house has four bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a generous kitchen and sitting room. She was married, but in a sad turn of events, is now widowed and almost due with her first baby. So soon she'll need the space, but for now, it's a good place for the occasional out of town guests. In addition to Lily though, there are two permanent guests - a "houseboy," Mupenzi, and a "housegirl," Marie. Both speak only the mothertongue, Kinyarwanda, and are from the village, as people say here. They stay in the servants' quarters before the main house.
Mupenzi is sort of a guard, at night he guards the house (although I sort of doubt that), and he also opens and closes the spiked gate at the front of the house. During the day, he might cut the grass, with a special machete of course, or look after the plants. He also does random errands: getting phone credit, milk for mid-day tea, a taxi, or some roasted goat on a stick. Apparently he has been with Lil for three years, which is longer than she's kept anyone before.
Marie, who I saw a lot more, has quite the job, including cooking all three meals, cleaning the house, doing the laundry (don't forget it's done by hand here), ironing, and of course, waiting on all of us. With dishes and food, it was amazing - meals practically appeared out of thin air, whatever you want and whenever. And the food was good! Much better than Kenyan food. Barely any ugali, plenty of vegetables, nothing drenched in oil - yum!
They would always yell her name, at the top of their lungs, for her to bring them cheese, or beer (almost like WI, eh?), or God knows what. Lily said she liked her becuase she didn't need to be told what to do, she'd clean the rooms without a prompt. And her cooking's good. And after dinner she'll ask, "Lily, do you want tea?"
Marie is small, with about a centimeter of black hair. Lily says she's 27, but she looks about 20. She earns $50/month. She is given all her meals, housing, and even complete healthcare (this last part is very rare for a homeowner to give to a househelp). By Rwandan standards, this is awesome. But still, $50 of expendible income? Undoubtedly she sends most of it to her family, wherever they are. Maybe she has children, maybe she doesn't.
I don't know if this politically correct or not, but being waiting on, especially by a very poor person who I can only say "thank you" to, makes me super uncomfortable. I feel guilty that I'm reading a Jodi Piccoult novel and drinking beer while she works her butt off. Heck, the novel was practically half her monthly income. I feel guilty that she's doing all this work I know I'm perfectly capable of doing myself. Granted, I never yell her name, I put my own dishes away, and I Try to get her to smile a little. She tends to look very serious. When I ask Alain, or really any African about these gross inequalities, they all pretty much say the same thing: "that's just the way it is here."
Until coming to Rwanda, I hadn't had much experience with this. When I returned to Nairobi after my first stay in Kisumu, my host-mom had acquired an old Luo lady to come Mon-Wed-Fri to do the laundry, clean up the house, and cook a couple of meals. I was ecstatic. This not only meant that my laundry would get done far more frequently than before, but that the disgustingly dirty, cock-roach infested house might improve a bit. Francisca, her name is, really only spoke Dholuo and did a decent job of the laundry. She often overstretched my clothes, but hey, I wasn't the one paying her, so I didn't think I could complain.
Once, in a funny combination of Dholuo, Kiswahili, and broken English, she told me she would love me very much if I gave her one of my lesos (leosos are handy pieces of cloth used as a skirt or shawl or towlen or table cloth or sheet - you get the picture). She had noticed, undoubtedly through doing my laundry, that I had 4. Two Kikoy ones, coastal woven cloth of fairy high quality, and two khangas, Tanzanian dyed cloth of somewhat lower quality. I really did have plenty. And I knew she lived in Kibera, the huge slum next door, was widowed with a gaggle of children, and definitely didn't have water or electricity even though she was living in one of the biggest, most developed cities in Eastern Africa. How messed up would it be for me not to give away something I could replace with less than $5? After about 10 seconds of thinking, I handed her a Kikoy leso I bought my first time in Lamu with David. She said God would bless me.
But in Rwanda, I've come across a whole other kind of househelp than before. The first house I stayed in in Rwanda was that of Alain's sister, Liliane (Alan and Lillian in English). The house has four bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a generous kitchen and sitting room. She was married, but in a sad turn of events, is now widowed and almost due with her first baby. So soon she'll need the space, but for now, it's a good place for the occasional out of town guests. In addition to Lily though, there are two permanent guests - a "houseboy," Mupenzi, and a "housegirl," Marie. Both speak only the mothertongue, Kinyarwanda, and are from the village, as people say here. They stay in the servants' quarters before the main house.
Mupenzi is sort of a guard, at night he guards the house (although I sort of doubt that), and he also opens and closes the spiked gate at the front of the house. During the day, he might cut the grass, with a special machete of course, or look after the plants. He also does random errands: getting phone credit, milk for mid-day tea, a taxi, or some roasted goat on a stick. Apparently he has been with Lil for three years, which is longer than she's kept anyone before.
Marie, who I saw a lot more, has quite the job, including cooking all three meals, cleaning the house, doing the laundry (don't forget it's done by hand here), ironing, and of course, waiting on all of us. With dishes and food, it was amazing - meals practically appeared out of thin air, whatever you want and whenever. And the food was good! Much better than Kenyan food. Barely any ugali, plenty of vegetables, nothing drenched in oil - yum!
They would always yell her name, at the top of their lungs, for her to bring them cheese, or beer (almost like WI, eh?), or God knows what. Lily said she liked her becuase she didn't need to be told what to do, she'd clean the rooms without a prompt. And her cooking's good. And after dinner she'll ask, "Lily, do you want tea?"
Marie is small, with about a centimeter of black hair. Lily says she's 27, but she looks about 20. She earns $50/month. She is given all her meals, housing, and even complete healthcare (this last part is very rare for a homeowner to give to a househelp). By Rwandan standards, this is awesome. But still, $50 of expendible income? Undoubtedly she sends most of it to her family, wherever they are. Maybe she has children, maybe she doesn't.
I don't know if this politically correct or not, but being waiting on, especially by a very poor person who I can only say "thank you" to, makes me super uncomfortable. I feel guilty that I'm reading a Jodi Piccoult novel and drinking beer while she works her butt off. Heck, the novel was practically half her monthly income. I feel guilty that she's doing all this work I know I'm perfectly capable of doing myself. Granted, I never yell her name, I put my own dishes away, and I Try to get her to smile a little. She tends to look very serious. When I ask Alain, or really any African about these gross inequalities, they all pretty much say the same thing: "that's just the way it is here."
Monday, March 09, 2009
Rwanda in Conclusion
After another tedious bus ride, I have returned to Kenya. I'm glad to be back, if only because most of the time I understand what people are saying, I am fluent in Kenya Shillings, and I know my way around.
Rwanda is, like I've said before, gorgeous. So fertile, so green, so hilly... Wow. I saw so many amazing things while I was there. I saw a volcano that was steaming, and at night, the top glows orange! Talk about freaky. I saw funny things, like a baby sitting in the middle of a field with no mother around. (Baby looked happy though.) I also saw a goat on the back of bicycle. Another interesting thing: Alain and I were walking down the street in Gisenyi and two huge trucks full of very worn-down looking people with the UN Refugee Agency symbol on it. Alain told me about how the Hutus that committed crimes in the genocide had ran to the Congo to hide afterwards, but now they are being resettled. I asked Alain how he felt about it, and he said fine. I told him I was surprised he wasn't afraid, or mad. He said that the only thing that worried him was that the children of the Hutus wouldn't be socially educated like most people in Rwanda now - most people now believe that they are Rwandese, not Hutus or Tutsis (he calls himself Rwandese, not Rwandan, which I find strange but hey, it's his country).
Later we were on the bus from Kigali to Kampala, Uganda, and a lady got on the bus who was also very worn-down, in fact she wasn't wearing any shoes. She had clearly walked for days, and so some people gave her biscuits, we gave her juice, another man gave her some little money. I didn't get the whole story because it was told in Kinyarwanda, but somehow a bus left her and she walked for like 60 kilometers. Later Alain said that he thought she was a Hutu refugee like the ones in the trucks, and that she was probably being accused of crimes during the genocide. (Community courts in small towns are still full of cases of accused killers from the genocide.) He figured she was fleeing. Now, I have no idea how Alain got all that. She probably was a Hutu, but who knows. But no matter what, he thought that was her situation, and he gave her some food and drink anyway. That's how the Rwandese are now, after a genocide. It's fascinating.
I got a unique look into the Rwandese mindset about politics, Africa, corruption, and of course, the genocide. Because I was always staying with families and being with Rwandan people (I didn't talk to a mzungu face-to-face for almost two weeks, my god!), I was able to talk about a lot of things with a lot of people. I was lucky that way.
Another interesting thing is that I can really compare how different governments affect different countries in Africa. For instance, Rwanda is peaceful, safe, and is developing quickly. That's because the government isn't completely corrupt and irresponsible like Kenya's. Rwanda is still very poor, but the government is TRYING. That leads the people to have more faith, I figure, and maybe that's why crime is so much less there. Although the government is good, it's definitely less developed than Kenya. Getting money was a constant problem wherever I was. There are few ATMs, and the existing ones are frequently broken. Additionally, they are not 24 hours but only open when the bank is, so like 9am-4pm. I had to do some weird "cash advance" junk that took about an hour. Anyway, returning to Kenya was good, but a bit depressing too. Immediately I got the "mzungu" BS, and the streets were dirty, and the driving was crazy... Rwanda was just so beautiful and nice. I'd love to stay more time there someday, but I don't think it will be for a few years.
Rwanda is, like I've said before, gorgeous. So fertile, so green, so hilly... Wow. I saw so many amazing things while I was there. I saw a volcano that was steaming, and at night, the top glows orange! Talk about freaky. I saw funny things, like a baby sitting in the middle of a field with no mother around. (Baby looked happy though.) I also saw a goat on the back of bicycle. Another interesting thing: Alain and I were walking down the street in Gisenyi and two huge trucks full of very worn-down looking people with the UN Refugee Agency symbol on it. Alain told me about how the Hutus that committed crimes in the genocide had ran to the Congo to hide afterwards, but now they are being resettled. I asked Alain how he felt about it, and he said fine. I told him I was surprised he wasn't afraid, or mad. He said that the only thing that worried him was that the children of the Hutus wouldn't be socially educated like most people in Rwanda now - most people now believe that they are Rwandese, not Hutus or Tutsis (he calls himself Rwandese, not Rwandan, which I find strange but hey, it's his country).
Later we were on the bus from Kigali to Kampala, Uganda, and a lady got on the bus who was also very worn-down, in fact she wasn't wearing any shoes. She had clearly walked for days, and so some people gave her biscuits, we gave her juice, another man gave her some little money. I didn't get the whole story because it was told in Kinyarwanda, but somehow a bus left her and she walked for like 60 kilometers. Later Alain said that he thought she was a Hutu refugee like the ones in the trucks, and that she was probably being accused of crimes during the genocide. (Community courts in small towns are still full of cases of accused killers from the genocide.) He figured she was fleeing. Now, I have no idea how Alain got all that. She probably was a Hutu, but who knows. But no matter what, he thought that was her situation, and he gave her some food and drink anyway. That's how the Rwandese are now, after a genocide. It's fascinating.
I got a unique look into the Rwandese mindset about politics, Africa, corruption, and of course, the genocide. Because I was always staying with families and being with Rwandan people (I didn't talk to a mzungu face-to-face for almost two weeks, my god!), I was able to talk about a lot of things with a lot of people. I was lucky that way.
Another interesting thing is that I can really compare how different governments affect different countries in Africa. For instance, Rwanda is peaceful, safe, and is developing quickly. That's because the government isn't completely corrupt and irresponsible like Kenya's. Rwanda is still very poor, but the government is TRYING. That leads the people to have more faith, I figure, and maybe that's why crime is so much less there. Although the government is good, it's definitely less developed than Kenya. Getting money was a constant problem wherever I was. There are few ATMs, and the existing ones are frequently broken. Additionally, they are not 24 hours but only open when the bank is, so like 9am-4pm. I had to do some weird "cash advance" junk that took about an hour. Anyway, returning to Kenya was good, but a bit depressing too. Immediately I got the "mzungu" BS, and the streets were dirty, and the driving was crazy... Rwanda was just so beautiful and nice. I'd love to stay more time there someday, but I don't think it will be for a few years.
Friday, March 06, 2009
Gisenyi
Today is my last day in Gisenyi, a very small town in Rwanda on Lake Kivu. Gisenyi is at the border of the Congo, with it's sister city Goma. The city is beautiful, and so quiet. The entire city borders the lake, so at anytime you can go have lunch or beer on the lake. And it's just so quiet for an African city, it isn't bustling at all. There are barely any cars. The food is delicious. There are brochettes everywhere (roast meat on a stick, seriously delicious, I'm getting fatter everyday), deep-fried little fish (also surprisingly delicious), and plenty of fresh chips (okay, french fries) to go around.
We're staying at a friend's house on the lake. The funny this is, this guy has a four bedroom house for about $300 dollars a month. It's a huge, beautiful house, and it's so cheap. If I'm ever filthy rich, this is the city my vacation home would be in. The lake is very clean and a good temperature in which to swim. What more could you ask for?
I've really just been relaxing here. Sleeping, eating, looking forward to the next meal... I've also been writing a lot of blogs for the future on all sorts of topics, so stay tuned!
Two other quick pieces of news:
1) My laptop is in Nairobi, but I won't be back there for a while, so I won't be able to upload any photos for a few weeks.
2) I'm fairly certain I'll be coming home at the end of the program. It costs a fair bit of money to change your ticket to a later date, and I don't really have any travel partners. This isn't 100%, but if I do come home at the end of the program, I'll be home April 26th or 27th. Did you hear that Grandpa?
We're staying at a friend's house on the lake. The funny this is, this guy has a four bedroom house for about $300 dollars a month. It's a huge, beautiful house, and it's so cheap. If I'm ever filthy rich, this is the city my vacation home would be in. The lake is very clean and a good temperature in which to swim. What more could you ask for?
I've really just been relaxing here. Sleeping, eating, looking forward to the next meal... I've also been writing a lot of blogs for the future on all sorts of topics, so stay tuned!
Two other quick pieces of news:
1) My laptop is in Nairobi, but I won't be back there for a while, so I won't be able to upload any photos for a few weeks.
2) I'm fairly certain I'll be coming home at the end of the program. It costs a fair bit of money to change your ticket to a later date, and I don't really have any travel partners. This isn't 100%, but if I do come home at the end of the program, I'll be home April 26th or 27th. Did you hear that Grandpa?
Monday, March 02, 2009
Rwanda Update
First off, I'm healthy and happy. I'm still in the capital city of Kigali. Saturday was "community clean-up day" here in Kigali, when everyone helps clean up the trash, trim the trees, cut the grass, fix the roads, etc. This happens every last Saturday of the month. Every single business closes, even informal little shops selling tomatoes, and most people help. The work ends at eleven but everyone just relaxes. What a far cry this is from Kenya.
And I forgot to mention this but my friend Dan reminded me, that they confiscated all my plastic bags at the border. They actually search through everyone's baggage at the border to ensure none enter the country. I lost three. Funny thing is, I hoard them in Kenya because they come in handy for trash, muddy shoes, or just plain transport, so I was pretty annoyed to hand them over. But once you're in the country, you can't find them either. Even a loaf of bread comes in waxy paper instead of plastic. I like this place!
Additionally and pleasantly, it has rained every day I've been here. Most Africans I have met hate rain. They won't leave the house, they'll run inside, they freak out and think they'll die if they get wet. So Alain and his sister hate the rain, but for me, I think it's wonderful! I haven't seen rain in Kisumu in weeks, and the ground looks like it's been years. The goats and sheep are having trouble getting enough food, and now we feed them our mango peels and our kale stems. They're losing weight. And when it doesn't rain in Kisumu, we can't collect rain water and that means more laborous trips to the river. I never realized how incredibly important rain is to people's and animals' survival.
Tomorrow I'll be traveling to Gisenyi, a small town on Lake Kivu. There we'll stay with another friend of Alain's and probably just relax on the lake most days. This is very much a holiday for me; I've been sleeping late every day and taking my time before going anywhere. I'm reading some novels my mom brought me at Christmas and catching up on the news.
I had really wanted to go to a national park, but it's very difficult and quite expensive. First of all, you have to get there somehow, which is many cases means you need a car. Public transportation here isn't as thorough and widespread as it is in Kenya. Once you get there, most parks require a 4x4 vehicle because of large game animals as well as bad roads. And there are park entrance fees, which for the cheapest type of park is still $70. Then most are so far away you need accomodation, which you need to reserve far in advance. It's just a bit too difficult and expensive. The only other alternative would be to do a full-out safari, which again, is expensive.
In the African countries I have traveled to, there isn't the same "nature infrastructure" that is all over the US. In Wisconsin, I can drive out to Devil's Lake in an hour, pay $7 to get into the park, and hike to my heart's content. Here, there is nowhere you can do that. Walking trails are few and far between, and Alain and his family think it's nuts that I'd want to do that. Everyone here says to me, "don't you want to see animals?" And I say, "Trees are nice!" And I'm officially nuts. Most parks, except for two in allllll of Kenya, require a vehicle. And even if you have your own car, you really need a guide or you'd get lost. There aren't maps, or signs. So seeing nature is tough, outside of the frequent farm land that is outside of cities.
But none the less, I'm eating lots of Rwandan food, meeting tons of people, and doing normal errands around the city with a family. That's an amazing experience all in itself.
And I forgot to mention this but my friend Dan reminded me, that they confiscated all my plastic bags at the border. They actually search through everyone's baggage at the border to ensure none enter the country. I lost three. Funny thing is, I hoard them in Kenya because they come in handy for trash, muddy shoes, or just plain transport, so I was pretty annoyed to hand them over. But once you're in the country, you can't find them either. Even a loaf of bread comes in waxy paper instead of plastic. I like this place!
Additionally and pleasantly, it has rained every day I've been here. Most Africans I have met hate rain. They won't leave the house, they'll run inside, they freak out and think they'll die if they get wet. So Alain and his sister hate the rain, but for me, I think it's wonderful! I haven't seen rain in Kisumu in weeks, and the ground looks like it's been years. The goats and sheep are having trouble getting enough food, and now we feed them our mango peels and our kale stems. They're losing weight. And when it doesn't rain in Kisumu, we can't collect rain water and that means more laborous trips to the river. I never realized how incredibly important rain is to people's and animals' survival.
Tomorrow I'll be traveling to Gisenyi, a small town on Lake Kivu. There we'll stay with another friend of Alain's and probably just relax on the lake most days. This is very much a holiday for me; I've been sleeping late every day and taking my time before going anywhere. I'm reading some novels my mom brought me at Christmas and catching up on the news.
I had really wanted to go to a national park, but it's very difficult and quite expensive. First of all, you have to get there somehow, which is many cases means you need a car. Public transportation here isn't as thorough and widespread as it is in Kenya. Once you get there, most parks require a 4x4 vehicle because of large game animals as well as bad roads. And there are park entrance fees, which for the cheapest type of park is still $70. Then most are so far away you need accomodation, which you need to reserve far in advance. It's just a bit too difficult and expensive. The only other alternative would be to do a full-out safari, which again, is expensive.
In the African countries I have traveled to, there isn't the same "nature infrastructure" that is all over the US. In Wisconsin, I can drive out to Devil's Lake in an hour, pay $7 to get into the park, and hike to my heart's content. Here, there is nowhere you can do that. Walking trails are few and far between, and Alain and his family think it's nuts that I'd want to do that. Everyone here says to me, "don't you want to see animals?" And I say, "Trees are nice!" And I'm officially nuts. Most parks, except for two in allllll of Kenya, require a vehicle. And even if you have your own car, you really need a guide or you'd get lost. There aren't maps, or signs. So seeing nature is tough, outside of the frequent farm land that is outside of cities.
But none the less, I'm eating lots of Rwandan food, meeting tons of people, and doing normal errands around the city with a family. That's an amazing experience all in itself.
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