I was fortunate to end my trip in Kenya with a three day safari.  I must say it sure beat visiting the zoo.  There is not much like viewing animals from their natural habitat.  Anyways, Grace and I were picked up in Nairobi by David, our tour guide, and Douglas, our driver.  We were spoiled to have an inclusive safari which included just us.  Typically the vehicle accomodates seven tourists, but we were lucky to avoid other foreigners.  However, Felippo (a Soteni intern from Italy) reported being on a safari with four japanese individuals who vaguely spoke english.  I think that would have added some more excitement to the ride.  Nonetheless, Grace, David, Douglas, and I embarked on a five hour bump fest to the Masai Mara National Park.  Our camp ground was exceptional consisting of 14 tents; 12 for visitors, 1 for eating meals, and 1 for social gatherings.  The camp ground was "eco friendly" and each tent actually had a shower, and a toilet, both of which operated remarkably.  

We went on four game rides, 2 in the mornings and 2 in the afternoons.  The first game ride I felt like a kid running downstairs for his first Christmas as I viewed the wildlife in total awe.  I witnessed many impressive aspects of the game rides, but the most amazing of all was the wildebeest migration.  Our tour guide, who has obviously been on numerous game rides noted how he hasn't seen the migration for five years.  I learned from him that in the climax of the migration there are over 3 million wildebeests!  I stood in the vehicle like aged photographer snapping countless pictures of these hideous looking animals run from one area to the next.  We all laughed because there were roughly 8 zebras who grazed in proximity to the galloping wildebeests and appeared to stare at the wildebeests moronic tendencies.  At one point the wildebeests were congregating in a brook cooling off from the hot sun.  A couple would make sudden moves and the numerous wildebeests would run chaotically out of the water, almost like a pack of lions were attacking.

I saw giraffes, cheetahs, elephants, antelopes, warthogs (pumba), meercats (timon), buffalos, gazelles, hippos, a hyena, a jackal, vultures, and countless other birds.  In fact, the second most fascinating aspect of the safari was learning about a bird with a unique relationship with the giraffe.  The oxpecker sits on the neck of the giraffe and not only eats the parasites and tics off the body, but also warns the giraffe of danger by making a distinct sound.  I saw hippos playing in the water, and felt uneasy when the tour guide and driver felt we were safe enough to exit the vehicle and watch from the edge of the hill.  At one point a hippo made an attempt to get out of the water heading right towards us, so I acted cowardly by darting back for the truck.  Turned out the hippo just wanted to give us a scare. 

On our way back to Nairobi we stopped and I able to get some pictures with the Masai tribe.  This tribe is the type most think of when they think of Africa.  The people consist of droopy earlobs, beaded necklaces and bracelets, holding spears, and wear bright red and orange lasos.

Volleyball Game

Volleyball and soccer are the two main sports played in Kenya. I had known soccer was a popular game, but volleyball came somewhat as a surprise. During countless evenings after working on projects throughout the day, we took a mental break by hitting the volleyball around in a group of four or five outside of the dispensary. Who would have known all that practice would have paid off? The second to last day in Mbakalo we had compiled a letter to be delivered to the Head Master of the Mbakalo Boys Secondary School requesting to compete against their squad. The following day we were informed that the request was accepted. Our team consisted of Pat, Simon (Coordinator), Henry (ABD Aids Barefoot Doctor), Victor (Soteni accountant), Ken (local friend), and myself. Back in the states Pat and I had brought over uniforms to be worn by the dispensary’s team. When we arrived to Mbakalo three weeks ago we were informed the team was already equipped with apparel, therefore this made giving the uniforms to our opponent a solid token of appreciation for allowing our participation on their grounds. The game was scheduled for 4 p.m. on Wednesday evening.
I felt some nerves while we were walking over to the school; almost as if I was preparing for an important baseball game back in the states. The school’s Head Master welcomed us at the gates. There was an assembly going on in the corridor so we entered softly. The team was already warming up in the backfield, so we walked over, introduced ourselves and distributed the uniforms to the opposing players. They were very thankful, but I laughed because they were all tall and the shirts appeared tight. Nevertheless their appreciation was repeatedly expressed. I was hoping for a warm up as well, but after we changed and put our uniforms on the game quickly began. There was two score keepers on either side of the poles to keep track and also judge whether the ball was in or out on certain plays. After winning the first match by only a few points the second game soon began. About halfway through, the school function had ended and all the students strolled over to watch the match. At one point about seventy to eighty kids surrounded the court and cheered for the school. Our fan base was only comprised of a few workers from Soteni, but despite a lack of cheering we prevailed in three out of the four matches. I was exhausted because of no substitutions and the fact that it was the first day I felt much better after being diagnosed with malaria.

Piki Piki Rides

The piki piki is the main mode of transportation in the villages. The most comparable vehicle in the United States that most closely resembles the piki piki would be a dirt bike/motorcycle. The majority of the time we traveled with three people on the bike; the driver and two passengers. I found myself being the smaller of the travelers, thus volunteered to be the in the middle of the trio. I am typically grasping the bars under the seat for dear life and exclaiming pole pole (slow down) when we barrel down the eroded, pothole-filled dirt roads. On our way back from visiting one of the OVC’s (Orphans and Vulnerable Children) a couple times, Simon, the coordinator of Mbakalo, insisted on driving. These were the times I feared for my life. At one point he stopped abruptly, trying to wedge our way around a wagon and I found myself face to face with a mule, who didn’t seem very amused. I proceeded to get off and refused to get back on until our actual driver resumed.
As of now the two pieces of luggage I should have added to my belongings are more toilet paper and a helmet for the piki piki. Two days ago I had arrived back into Nairobi after an eight hour bus ride from Mbakalo and we had gone to a Nakumatt (resembles a mall). The security guards in the mall all had helmets on, somewhat synonymous to a baseball helmet but without the padding underneath. I thought about trying to negotiate with one of them for his helmet because of the dyer need for a safety precaution on the bike. When I travel to the next village, Mituntu in the Eastern Province, that form of protection would certainly come in handy. In Mbakalo last week Pat and I had arranged to receive driving lessons from what we called Doug’s School of Driving, but the training was postponed, yet never rescheduled because of rain. Doug is the wife of Esther, the ABD supervisor, who insisted that we learn and tell our friends about his flawless training when we return to the states. Unfortunately, I have no stories or positive encouragement to relay to my friends about Doug’s Driving School, but hopefully someone in Mituntu will teach me the art of driving a piki piki.

Painting in the Dispensary

The cement walls that encompass the rooms of the dispensary are just not sufficient enough for a clinic. Paint is a must in order to allow for brighter rooms, less dust, and just a more hospital-like atmosphere. This past Saturday we began this task. We had purchased primer, cream for half the wall, blue for the other half, and black for the baseboard. When it came to apparel for the painting expedition, we were fortunate enough to have access to the dispensary’s gowns, masks, gloves, and whatever else completed our ensemble. The painting crew consisted of Henry, Ken, Pat, and I. Henry, an ABD (Aids Barefoot Doctor), was decked out in medical wear and looked like he was ready to perform a surgical procedure. Ken, a local friend, found his niche in painting the lower half; maybe because he is shorter and seemed to have a comfort in squatting (years of practice with the latrine). We had apparently underestimated how much primer was needed because we had completed three rooms and the five gallon jug was retired. Over a three day period we had successfully completed all of the priming for the walls in the dispensary; six rooms and the corridor. You can definitely notice an immense difference in the brightness of the dispensary now.

Malaria

I was undergoing symptoms of stomach discomfort and a loss of appetite, when I was soon diagnosed with Malaria. With me especially there must be something wrong if I have a suppressed appetite. Isaac, the lab technician, tested my blood and found a mild amount of the malaria parasites present. I was worried because I somehow had the notion that Malaria was similar to Lyme’s Disease and that the prognosis was long term. However, I was quickly informed after reading and learning from experts that malaria entails flu like symptoms. I had the pleasure of experiencing slight chills, an upset stomach, vomiting, and the worst and most persistent of all, diarrhea. Now I know from my writing before how I expressed the use of a latrine (hole in the ground) as a means of relieving oneself was the probably the biggest adjustment I had to make. Well, I guess you could say I became acclimated and good friends with the latrine since Monday. Some may say my skills have developed into a professional. When I go home don’t be too concerned if I ask to use your bathroom, and proceed to go outside and dig a hole in the ground. Anyways, I was given Antimalarial medicine to thwart the symptoms. I spent a couple days resting and on the third day felt well enough to get off the sidelines and back into the grind. Thursday I continued on with my daily routine, feeling fine, and then Friday came around, which lead to an unfortunate relapse. We were out for the day, roughly an hour away in Kitale, using the Cyber Café to use the internet and other computer accommodations. A couple hours in to typing away I started to feel an upset stomach, once again, and made every attempt to ignore. We soon left and the entire ride home I was on the verge of spraying my lunch, which by the way was a fish was the head still intact. I can’t say I thoroughly enjoyed eating the body of something while one eye was staring at me, but I managed. When we arrived back home I proceeded to sleep the rest of the day and night. Since Friday I have been experiencing exacerbated stomach feelings, but now I feel as though the malaria is on the downward course. I think next time I travel to Kenya I am going to bring an economy size twenty four pack of toilet paper as my carry on. My stock has already terminated and I am currently borrowing from Pat. Nonetheless, my stomach has now stabilized, but I still long for a solid bowel release.

Comedic Reliefs

One distinguishing trait exhibited from most of the Kenyans I have interacted with is their ability to laugh and find comedy in everything. I don’t know many people who frown upon a good laugh from time to time and I would say I am certainly not one of them. A few instances stand out when I think back over the last couple weeks.
During one of the HIV/AIDs forums to the local Polytechnical College, Henry (an ABD), was demonstrating how to apply a condom effectively. Esther was facilitating him and attempting to roll the condom over his hand and down his wrist (apparently we came without a prop). Even after the third trial they still managed to tear the condom, but not as badly as the first couple attempts. One of the more talkative students then proceeded to ask if it was all right if he were to use a sugar bag instead of a rubber. Without hesitation the response was a blatant no. The student soon continued by going into further detail and asking, “well, what happens if the mood strikes and I don’t have a condom, I only have a sugar bag?” Henry expressed how abstinence must be performed in this particular instance.
Everyday Pat and I struggle interpreting the Kenya accent. A week ago while visiting a pregnant ABD client, we started talking about safety procedures during delivery to prevent mother to child transmission. I chimed in by asking when the due date is, out of sheer curiosity. Seconds after completing this question the three ABD’s, along with the client, started laughing uncontrollably. So, then I sat there and soon began chuckling with them, just because I didn’t want to be the only silent one. When the roaring subsided I wanted to know why they thought that was hilarious. Evidently, somehow every one of them thought I had asked if the delivery was today. I guess they had gotten due date and today mixed up. I tried to put myself in their shoes and then realized even some individuals in America have trouble interpreting what I say half the time. Must be near impossible for them. We then joked about how the newborn ought to named Patmo, which then lead to the answer to my question; the due date was in a month, not today thank god.
A few days ago I was called plump for the first time in my life. I found this humorous, but then came to realize I guess I am plump in relation to most Kenyans.
Lastly, I was interested to find out from a couple Kenyans what their stereotype is of Americans. I learned their perception of Americans is that we are intelligent, curious, and loaded with weapons at all times. I can understand intelligent and curious, I presume, but loaded with weapons seemed funny. I proceeded to fulfill the second stereotype by asking about the third so I asked for more details. The response was even if they have scanned our bodies and come to realize we are without a weapon they are still intimidated because most believe we are all trained in self defense, according to Victor and Wycliffe.

My Work in Kenya

Some of my tasks while at the village Mbakalo
The next day at Soteni’s office in the city, George oriented us on the ABD (AIDS Barefoot Doctor) process. There are 12 ABD’s, six at Mbakalo and six at Mituntu. Their job entails treatment and care for the AIDS patients in the villages. My job will be conducting a hybrid of qualitative and quantitative assessments for the ABD’s. This process includes interviewing the providers (responsible for everyday care for the client, usually a member), the opinion leaders (chairman and area councilor, members of the local management family committee), and lastly, the clients. I am given different protocols for each group, and will be required to write reports for each interview, eventually leading to a report that collaborates the results. This is one of several tasks given to Pat and me for when we enter the villages.

My second duty demands the OVC (Orphans and Vulnerable Children) reports. This mission involves acquiring basic information from each child, such as their name, birthday and sponsor, my initial impression, their current living conditions, an academic assessment, followed by a needs assessment. This information is critical so that the OVC’s sponsors can know how their child is doing and what they may need to provide the individuals with. I will also be taking a photograph of each child because the sponsors are certainly curious of not only their mental, but physical progression. I look forward to collecting as much vital information as possible from the children in order to provide the imperative updates.

Ezekiel has volunteered to take part in an extensive two hundred mile bike ride in order to raise money for a food center/library in Mituntu. This bike ride will take place sometime in September. Soteni needs much more information with the purpose of facilitating this event. Therefore, Pat and my job include interviewing Ezekiel and fellow members of his team with our video camera. We will be asking questions such as rest stops, the accessibility of food, when the exact dates are going to be, fundraising, and the precise route. I was told to make sure they speak up because the video camera’s sound quality is lacking and also Kenyans are known to be very quiet talkers. I continuously find myself leaning closer and closer to the Kenyans so I can interpret them. They probably think I’am coming on to them, plus I have thought of investing in hearing aids. Randie had noted how Ezekiel mentioned something along the lines of not eating throughout the event and I am curious to find out WHY??. Well, I think another one of my jobs will be stressing the importance of staying hydrated and fueled in order to finish the ride alive.


Mpesa
The Kenyans have a very innovative way of paying called mpesa. You can buy “airtime” at nearly any kiosk. They come in plastic cards where you can scrape off a metal strip revealing your PIN, which you then enter into your cell phone. They come in 50, 100, 250, 500, or 1000 Ksh (1 dollar equals roughly 78 Kenyan shillings). You can also go to an agent and then you pay them x amount. The agent then transfers the money to your phone. This method is similar to having a credit card. For instance going out to eat, buying a shirt or paying for a taxi is a good time to use mpesa. This prevents carrying too much cash, which can be dangerous in the city.


First night in Mbakalo
We took a bus from Nairobi to Mbakalo, which was a bumpy, disheartening, and positively a beautiful ride through the Rift Valley. Along the way we witnessed a multitude of slums that included an abundance of activity. People were harvesting, riding bicycles, mingling, bartering, and continuously walking everywhere we looked. I had my camera out for most of the trip and recorded nearly a hundred photographs along with some videos. I guess I couldn’t peal my eyes away from witnessing how these communities operated. I have never seen anything that resembled this environment.
I just have to give it to these Kenyans for their immaculate, yet risky driving abilities. There were multiple times our bus driver would pass a vehicle or bike on the right, then straight ahead another car, or truck would be barreling down the road and at the last second our driver would weave into our designated lane. Simply miraculous. When we arrived at the bus station, an hour was still left on our journey so our next mode of transportation was a taxi led by our escort Simon. Simon is the project coordinator for Soteni-Mbakalo, as well as a minister and a caring, humorous individual as well.
When we arrived at the home we were greeted by our host mother, Mama Anne, who could not be more warm hearted or gracious. We were then introduced to three young kids, who appear to be Mama’s grandchildren (didn’t get their relation exactly). They were fascinated with my digital camera, and mainly intrigued with reviewing the pictures. After learning of this feature they would make faces while I snapped a shot then they would run back to me and I would show them their expressions. The one issue communicating with the children is that they do not speak English, therefore, the language barrier was tough but I made due with hand motions. If they didn’t know any English words before meeting me I think they now know, “What? Sorry I don’t speak Swahili,” because I must have stated that fifteen times.

Mama Anne cooked us a delicious dinner which entailed chiappate (similar to tortilla), ugali (corn mixture), and beef. Simon, Mama Anne, Mama’s husband, Pat and I all got to know each other a little better through mingling at the dinner table. I had given Mama a present a couple hours in to my arrival. I had noticed that she only had one flashlight and I happen to have two crank flashlights (they operate by generating power by cranking a lever on the side) so I gave Mama my other one. She was so delighted to have received this gift and so intrigued by this form of technology. In fact, as I sit in my bed I have been listening to her crank the flashlight for the past fifteen minutes. Nature called soon after dinner so it was time to stand eye to eye with a hole in the ground. I had two options; hole 1 or hole 2. I opened the door to the first latrine and I noticed a large spider on the wall so I went to hole 2. There was another family of spiders on the wall, so I contemplated and realized I had to suck it up and become one with nature. So I did and I kept a watchful eye on the spider as I squatted over a hole.

I think the most crucial item to everything I brought with me on this trip is the head flashlight I am currently using. I couldn’t have imagined performing simple tasks while holding a flashlight in one hand and then attempting to perform a chore that requires two hands. This light has made my life much easier when it comes to brushing my teeth outside, “showering,” or using the hole. To sum up my experience thus far you can prepare yourself mentally for days, but until you actually experience using flashlights for all occasions, squatting over a hole in the ground or showering with a water basin there is undoubtedly not many other exposures that compare. I was told that I am in for a treat and I couldn’t agree more.


I am extremely amazed at the friendly and welcoming Mbakalo community. Every person I walk by or come across, shakes my hand, says habari (How are you), and welcomes me to their home. They thoroughly enjoy seeing white folks enter their village because the Africans feel the whites bring intelligence and hope to their community (at least that’s what I was told by my friend Henry). I was told my presence alone will bring more patients to the dispensary and comfort to their well being while being treated. Pat and I were walking by a primary school (elementary) the other day, and the children who were out for recess stopped what they were doing and all ran over to us yelling muzugu! Muzugu! (white man). This was almost like a surreal moment and for a second I felt like Obama entering his homeland after becoming President. I am also astonished by never hearing any of them complain even after how little they have. I have never thought not seeing another American (besides Pat) for an entire week would be such an easy transition.



Carol, Ester and me
ABD Home Visits
I may have stated this before, but I will repeat myself for clarification. My main task in Mbakalo involves interviewing the ABD’s (Aids Barefoot Doctors), the ABD’s clients, and the chairman of the Local Management Committee. Since Tuesday I have visited roughly ten of the client’s homes and interviewed six of the clients and three of the ABD’s. With regards to clients I am required to find out information such as background information, the patient’s environment, basic needs, hygiene, physical, spiritual, and psychosocial care, and then I make an evaluation of the care. The client’s give me vital feedback on how the ABD’s can be of greater assistance to their needs. Thus far, I have generated a good list of material in order to propose to Soteni changes that should be made in order to enhance the program.

I am realizing more and more each day we are spoiled with up to date technology, ample amounts of food, clothing galore, and antiseptics in America. I consider myself spoiled staying at Mama Annes in Mbakalo because the accommodations actually resemble a house. Despite the fact that my current living conditions have no lights, no electricity, holes in the ground for a toilet, no Internet! and flies and mosquitoes insistently swarming, the other homes makes this place look like a mansion with an OCD cleaning staff. I can hardly even believe with my own two eyes the abodes these other people live in. Most of them are mud huts infested with rodents, dirty floors, with formidable smells, and an extreme lack of light. I had visited one ABD client yesterday; a widow, HIV positive, with six children, and no source of income. I needed a translator because she only spoke Swahili. The translator, Esther, had relayed to me that the client stated how she wears the same dogs everyday (meant clothes). Because of severe psychological damage attributed to a lack of food, intense ARV (Antiretroviral medicine for HIV/AIDS) treatment, and a deficiency in hope she suffers mentally, and after viewing her home environment I can’t blame her. She actually had her two cows sleeping in the minute hut at night with her and the six children because of fear they may get stolen if they were outside. The cows’ milk is her only source of income. I could only stand the pungent smell in the hut for ten minutes before feeling ill. I felt horribly and gave her 1,000 shillings (13 U.S. dollars, not much to us, but a ton for them), which should hopefully last them some time. All of the homes I have visited have their own tragic stories. The other day we went to visit a client, but the client wasn’t home. The client’s two children, a two and three years old were the only ones home, while the parents were out looking for food. None of the clients I spoke to have any food (food is needed for ARV treatment, and well, needed to stay alive), no soap, no source of income, and unsanitary water. It’s beyond me to comprehend how they are even still alive. Multiple times I have been sitting in the homes and felt like balling my eyes out. I know, me, for example, living in the U.S. I will occasionally read the news or watch TV and hear about the happenings in a third world country thinking to myself how heartbreaking this is. Then after a few seconds the feeling is gone and I continue with my day. Living in a third world country, however, and being engrossed in the action each day really imprints in your mind how fortunate we really are. I remember even watching the infomercials about how one dollar a day will feed a child or two and thinking to myself, “How can one dollar feed a child for the whole day?,” but this is very true.
I can’t by any means say I regret taking part in this experience. My eyes have been opened forever to the way some people in this world live. I know from now on I will think twice before complaining about not having the shoes I want, or the car of my dreams. I will just look in the back of my mind to all of these life changing experiences that I have encountered.