PB & J, buttered noodles, and Ramen

First things first, I sadly had to change the background of my blog because I unknowingly copied my friend Porter's blog, to a tee, so since he made his first, I opted to change mine. Also, the photos in this post are simply there because I promised photos. They have no relation to the written content of the post.

In comparison with the last two weeks, this one was incredibly productive. Needless to say, accomplishing something has left me quite pleased with myself and gives me hope that I will actually be able to accomplish something in my two years here. Unfortunately, I can only assume that this coming week will be a bit of a let down and I will hit another road block. But in the famous words of Chumbawamba, "I get knocked down, but I get up again, you're never gonna keep me down." ... oh nostalgia. You know I've been practically alone in Kenya for over a month when I begin quoting songs from fifth grade.

If you read the post about the greenhouse, then this photo speaks for itself.

Now when I say this week was productive, I mean Tuesday and Thursday of this week were productive. I honestly cannot remember what I did on Monday so clearly, it's irrelevant. Wednesday my counterpart and half his family (also half my compound) when to a funeral for the entire day. I didn't have enough water to wash my clothes. My phone was dead and my laptop was trailing close behind and there was no electricity until 8pm so I twiddled my thumbs for a good portion of the day. Mixed in with a little sudoku and some light reading. And Friday was recently declared a national holiday because it was the promulgation day for the new constitution. So everyone was either glued to the TV or radio for approximately 5 hours out of the day.

So now for the "productive" part of my week. I do remember that on Monday I sat down with my supervisor and showed her exactly what I needed to accomplish in these next three weeks before IST and that seemed to help move things along because she picked up her phone, called my counterpart and said I needed to go meet the chief and the District Officer (DO) this week. My counterpart claimed he was unable to take me but he volunteered one of the village elders, who can't speak a word of English, to be my escort. That evening I discussed with my counterpart how Tuesday was going to work and he informed me that he had forgotten to call the woman who was supposed to take me so he would just call her in the morning. Surprise, surprise. So the next morning, I again asked if he had gotten ahold of this woman and he proceeded to tell me her phone was off and he couldn't get through to her. Fantastic. At this point, it can be assumed I was a bit irritated so I simply asked if he would be able to take me later in the week since he had things to do today. He danced around the topic for about five minutes by rambling about absolutely nothing. Finally, I just said I'm going to my house. You can find me there if you figure something out. Twenty minutes later he showed up in different clothes and said, "Let's go." Glorious. I didn't even know I was quilt-tripping him but somehow I did.

Checking out a tree nursery with people from Nairobi and our donor.

We arrived at the chief and DO's office, breifly met with them, then walked next door to the hospital, met with the Public Health Officer (PHO), then walked back past the chief's office and met the commanding officer at the police station, and then strolled down to Tawa Market to stop by the post office and get some lunch. We did all of this in about two and a half hours but I still felt quilty about pulling my counterpart away from whatever it was he had planned for the day, so I bought him lunch. But wait, he was the one who was guilt-tripped into taking me so why did I feel guilty, you ask? Oh because he made me pay for his bus ride there and back so then I felt as though I was really inconveniencing him by having him escort me. Basically, it works both ways. Good to know. While Tuesday was more of a meet and greet, I did get everyones phone numbers and my DO told me to give him a call anytime I needed to get any information, so on Thursday, I did just that. Now my counterpart and supervisor tend to keep me on a pretty short leash and don't like me going places by myself unless it's to Machakos for the day but I told my counterpart I was going to the DO's office and he said, "Ok, see you this evening." So I made my way there, listened to my DO ramble about nonsense for quite some time, sat through a meeting with him and the people from the town social hall, listened to him ramble some more but this time the topics were a bit more interesting, then he took me to lunch, then when we got back I explained to him what I needed and 10 minutes later I was holding the population statistics for the area in my hand. Success! Please cherish this moment as I did because it was the highlight of my week. Actual cold, hard, data, in my hands. It was a glorious feeling. Then I listened to my DO ramble some more and then began my journey back home. As a side note, in the ramblings of my DO, he used the phrase, "They don't just give them away to any Tom, Dick, or Harry" and also reminded me I am in the same country and the Tsavo Maneaters and actually about a two to three hour drive from the Tsavo National Park where these "maneaters" reside. Ultimately, my DO is a pretty cool guy, he just likes to talk a lot which gives me a break because we all know how much I like talking.

From and outsiders POV, I realize you may be wondering how I could call this week successful just because I got population statistics and met a few "big-wigs" in the community. Well all I can tell you is to go back and read over my previous posts and it should all make sense.

My new best friend and biggest enemy.

In other news, I finally got a 100 liter water tank for my house to store water for washing clothes, bathing, and most other activities involving water and last weekend when I was in Machakos I finally purchased a 24 liter container that filters my drinking water so I no longer have to use the PUR packets Peace Corps provided us with. The last two days I've spent basically staring at both of the containers because I don't know what to do with this much water but today I washed all my clothes without having to make any trips to refill my water "can" as I previously did and let me tell you, that was a good feeling. Also, I would like to add that it's incredibly beneficial to my health that I was two weeks out of college before I moved to Kenya because since I moved to site, I have been living off of cereal, peanut butter, and noodles. Recently I acquired some honey so I have been able to switch up the usual PB&J for a PB&H which is a nice change of pace. For dinner I often eat spaghetti coated in butter and garlic which raises my cholesterol and keeps people from invading my personal space due to the stench of garlic seeping out of my pores. But the best part about my Kenyan dinners is the "Ramen" noodles that are here. They are all either from the middle east or Vietnam and they put the Ramen noodles in the U.S. to shame. Last night I dined on some chicken curry flavored noodles. My taste buds were practically dancing they were so pleased. If I ever actually get a kitchen, or what I would call a kitchen here, I think I will react how I did with the water tanks. Just stare for a couple days and then actually start cooking but I will most likely still eat the Ramen noodles a couple times a week.

One week closer to IST and pizza

As hard as it may be for most of you to believe this week was again, rather uneventful. I know, I know. I’m in Kenya. How could it possibly be as I say it is? Well to set the record straight, it’s never boring. It’s just that my CBO hasn’t made a work plan for me since I got here and that was only for the first two weeks. As I mentioned in my last post, all of the people at my CBO are under some pressure in trying to meet an August 25th deadline for about five different projects so I’ve been trying to stay out of their hair and just go where I’m told to for the time being.


On Monday of this week all of the groups came to my counterpart’s house to begin digging the beds for the greenhouse. As they were digging the two foot deep beds with large hoes and shovels and a tool that resembled a pick axe they continued to emphasize how hard they all work and how they were sure I had never seen anyone work this hard. I’ve attempted to explain multiple times, including this day, that people in the U.S. do do manual labor. But the majority of them still believe that everything in the U.S. is carried out by machines and no one ever puts in a hard days work. To make myself feel better I always try explaining this concept at least once before I just give in and laugh along with them. One of the men from the group asked me if I’d ever used one of these tools before and I told him I had used both at one time or another. He laughed and told me it wasn’t possible and that my arms would start bleeding if I tried to work like they do but they wanted to see me try so for their amusement, I showed the man how to work my camera, picked up one of the hoes, he snapped a picture, and then I brought it down on the ground in the same manner they were all doing...but it didn’t matter. I was still doing it wrong and it was incredibly entertaining for all of them. Job well done on my part.

As a side note, and I don’t know if I’ve previously mentioned this fact, but the large majority of clothes that Kenyans (especially those in rural villages) wear is secondhand picked up at markets. This leads to a considerable number of people wearing random t-shirts plastered with NFL and MLB teams, musical artists from Brittany Spears to Eminem, and pretty much anything else that’s ever came out of the U.S. It’s pretty exciting to see that one person wearing a Bears fleece or an Illini t-shirt but the unfortunate part is they have no idea who Forte is or where U of I is located, they just buy the clothes because they are in good condition and they probably like the colors. The reason I’m explaining this is because one of the men digging a bed in the greenhouse was wearing a fantastic ensemble that I must describe. It consisted of a straw cowboy hat, pink sweatpants that were cut-off to be mid shin length, and if that wasn’t good enough, he topped it off with a Depeche Mode t-shirt from their 1988 U.S. tour. While me attempting to use a garden hoe was entertaining for Kenyans, this man’s outfit absolutely made my day, if not my week. Also, if you’re wondering why in the hell he was wearing pink sweatpants it’s because there’s no such thing as gender-related colors here. When I first met my three-month old host brother he was dressed head to toe in a light pink fleece track suit covered in elephants.

I spent a large amount of Wednesday hand-washing my clothes again. I really need to start doing my laundry more often so I don’t have to spend three hours outside in the blistering heat and sun my clothes and more recently, the skin off my knuckles. I try to hide this fact from the people around me because they already think my hands are too delicate to do anything besides write with a pen or pencil.

Thursday was rather exciting in comparison to the rest of the week. Two consultants (still not sure what exactly they were consulting) and a representative from my CBO’s donor came to visit. I was under the impression the meeting was supposed to begin at 9 am but at about 8:45 I was told it wasn’t starting until 10 am. So at 10:!5, my counterpart came and picked me up at my house and we walked into town. We met with my supervisor, the project manager, and a couple other people from my CBO at the office and then they all began running around, cleaning the office, taking things here, bringing things there, all while I just sat and made a bracelet. At 11:30 I said to my supervisor, Wow, they are running late, huh?. She said, Oh no. They aren’t going to be here until 1. We are just preparing. Good to know. When one ‘o’clock finally arrived and our visitors still weren’t there, I was told we were going to go meet them in the field so the eight of us hopped on a matatu and headed out. We finally met up with them and then quickly visited a site where a youth group makes bricks, a tree nursery, one of the toilets that was built from the previously mentioned bricks, a sand dam, and finally a primary school where my CBO had donated two 6,000 liter water tanks. All of these shenanigans took about 3 hours all while the representative from our donor was rushing us from one place to the next. The consultants never even got to see the JIKO that was in the plans. Around 4 pm we all made our way back to the office to discuss the projects we had just seen, some challenges and future plans of the CBO...which was all supposed to be done at 9 am. After the donor’s rep rushed us through that discussion my supervisor twisted their arms into staying for an incredibly late lunch. But my Lord, what a feast they had prepared. Luckily I hadn’t eaten since 8 am (not counting the three cups of tea and bread I ate around noon) so I was able to eat two full plates of food, pleasing my appetite and everyone around me. There was chicken, potatoes, beans, fresh veggies, soup, some mystery meat (didn’t touch that), kale, and the traditional Kenyan dish, ugali. Now, ugali is just corn flour mixed with boiling water until it becomes somewhat of a solid, cake-like consistency. It is eaten with cabbage, meat, kale, and pretty much anything else you can imagine. It really has no flavor whatsoever but when eaten with the right thing, it’s actually not too bad and it sure does fill you up. Needless to say, I wasn’t all that hungry at dinner time but the mama on my compound made chapati, which is like a cross between pita bread, a tortilla, and a pancake, and I can never say no to chapati, so I ate again. When I finally rolled myself into bed I was pretty positive I would never eat again but I’m always surprising myself.

Today was a slow day. Not much to do and my counterpart disappeared bright and early to go do some odd jobs around town and his house. I washed a couple articles of clothing. Struggled through my bed sheets again. Washed my dishes and bathed all before 11 am. I finished my third book in four weeks. First I read, Life of Pi, then The Other Boston Busing Story, and just closed the cover on Everything is Illuminated. All of which were excellent books and I plan to start my fourth this evening. I’m in direct competition with my friend Porter who has already finished six and a half books since he got to site. Not sure how he did it but I’m trying to convince him to go outside and do get distracted by something so I can surpass his book count. It doesn’t seem to be working very well.

Tomorrow I’m headed to Machakos for the day to spend some time with Andrea and another girl, Julie. Haven’t seen Julie since we left Nairobi a month ago so it will be nice to spend time with her and hear all about her site. On top of that, I get to eat hot dogs and drink cold pop, which may not sound exciting to any of you but it’s like Christmas in August for me.

Also, I don't have enough credit on my modem to post pictures this time around. I know, I know. I promised I would try harder but I'll get more airtime tomorrow in Machakos and try to come back and edit this post with pictures. Thank you for your patience.

Over the river and through the Kenyan bush...

This week turned out to be relatively uneventful when comparing it to the two previous weeks but nonetheless, it was an adventure. I began my week by visiting the eighth and final group that is affiliated with my CBO. Not all of them were able to attend but those that did were, as usual, incredibly welcoming. They gave me multiple cups of tea and a delicious lunch as well. Everyone is still trying with all their might to make me increase (gain weight) but I keep telling them I physically cannot eat the amount of food they put in front of me. They always laugh at my inability to eat monstrous servings and then hand me another plate to dish up the amount I want. Tuesday I attended a meeting at my CBO with all of the members of the project implementation committee (PIC). At this meeting I sat and listened while everyone else discussed the progress we have made as an organization, how much money we have left from our donor, and what we plan to do with this money over the next couple months. They ever-so-kindly held the meeting in English, even though it was difficult for some of them, solely so I would know what was going on.

Wednesday turned out a little differently than I expected but karibu (welcome to) Kenya. There wasn't anything in the work plan for me that day, so I headed to the office with my laptop and a stack of Peace Corps manuals to try and lay out an outline of my Community Needs Assessment (CNA) that is due during IST (disclaimer: in case you haven't noticed, Peace Corps loves acronyms). My supervisor and the project manager were in the office so I chatted with them for a bit,shortly thereafter my supervisor left, and then I got to work. Around noon, my supervisor returned and the first thing she said to me was, "Mutheu, can we go?" So, without any knowledge of where we were going, I said sure and we went. I found out we were going to attend a women's baraza about 10km (about 6 miles) down the road that was being thrown by the Africa Brotherhood Church (ABC). A baraza is basically just a term for a gathering where a specific topic is often discussed or brought to attention. For example, some of the other Peace Corps Volunteers (PCVs) attended a baraza when they got to their sites in order to help them meet the people of the community (i.e. chief, district officer, etc.). This women's baraza was being held to not only raise money for the different ABC churches located in the surrounding communities but also to provide HIV/AIDS awareness. Now, I was expecting a large turnout because I know that there are many ABC churches in the area but I wasn't quite prepared for the 300+ women and girls of all ages that were in attendance. It's quite surprising how quickly word travels that there was a white person there because within twenty or so minutes of my arrival, every other person was turning around to look at me. We stayed until about 4pm and then got back on the matatu to head home.



Thursday was a perfect example of how most meetings go in Kenya. I don't believe I've explained the concept of "Kenyan time" but it's definitely something that's going to take some getting used to. Americans function on monochronic time. For example, if a meeting starts at 8am, you better get there by 8am because it's going to start then. Kenyans function on polychronic time. Here, if a meeting starts at 8am, that gives you about a two to three hour window to finish your household chores and then begin your often hour-long walk to the site of the meeting so you arrive somewhere around 11am. So Thursday, the meeting was scheduled to begin at 9am at my counterparts house. Two members from each of the eight groups (so sixteen people), my supervisor, my CBO's project manager, and the officer for the Ministry of Agriculture were supposed to attend so everyone could learn how to set up and care for the greenhouse that is being built as one of my CBO's projects. My counterpart and I waited until 10am til the first person showed up, then at 11am two more people, 11:30 one more, then my supervisor and the Agriculture officer, then the project manager and around 12:30, we began the meeting. I learned all about how deep to dig the beds, how many liters of water the plants will take at different stages of growth, etc. and then I headed home around 4. The greenhouse is going to be growing tomatoes as it's first crop (they learned about the importance of crop rotation too so in a couple years they will grow something different). By building the greenhouse, not only will the groups be able to grow tomatoes year around and in abundance but it will also allow for a large amount of income to be generated for the group members. This coming Tuesday the frame is scheduled to be covered in a UV-treated, plastic "tarp" and soon after the tomato seedlings will be transplanted into the greenhouse and growing will commence. I am very excited to see the turn-out and to have so many fresh tomatoes at my fingertips!

Finally, the weekend arrived. Friday I hopped on the matatu around 9am and went to a town called Masii (Ma-see) to meet with Andrea (one of the other PCVs near me) so we could pick up our bicycles. The man from an organization called World Bicycle Relief was supposed to meet us there around 12:30pm to deliver the bikes we had ordered and then Andrea and I were planning on putting them on a matatu and then heading home. Once the "bike guy" got to Masii he overheard Andrea and I discussing our plans to put them on matatus and he informed us he thought this was a home delivery and he didn't realize we were going to have to put them on the bus to get them home. We explained our logic in having him meet us in Masii (i.e. it's along a paved road, Andrea and I live on opposite sides of a river, etc.) but he still kept saying he was under the impression he was doing a "home delivery." So, picking up on his concern for our well-being, we proceeded to ask him if he could give us and our bikes a ride to Tawa and then we would just ride the 7km (4.3 miles) back to my site from there. He kindly agreed to do this for us and gave us a ride in his nice, new, Ford truck (yes, it was a Ford and I was just as shocked as all of you are and quickly complimented him on it) to Tawa. On the ride back to my site, Andrea and I served as top-notch entertainment for every Kenyan along the way. In Kenya, people don't learn how to ride bikes at a young age because the bikes that are available here are more often than not too tall of a frame for most adults to ride, especially women. And as if two white, American girls don't attract enough attention in Kenya, throw them on bicycles and you should've see how many children and adults flocked to the side of the road and/or out of their shops to watch us ride by.

Unfortunately, Andrea and I didn't exactly think through how she was going to get home once we got to my site. By the time we got back it was close to 3:30pm so we just accepted that we were going to have a sleepover that night. What we weren't expecting was my "family" to practically kidnap her until Sunday after church. Since neither of us knew how to get her home by foot or bicycle, we were kind of trapped in my village for all of Saturday. Luckily, we were able to make the most of our time and I took her on a tour of my village, we bought some fresh vegetables and made a delicious feast when we returned home, and then relaxed and watched a movie on my computer. Today after church (and lunch) my counterpart finally decided to show us the way to Andrea's house and we all three set off on our bikes. Now, I haven't rode a bike in quite some time but let me just say, riding one on the dirt/sand roads here in Kenya isn't exactly the best way to get your sea legs back. On top of that, we had to cross the Thwake "river" which right now is practically dry so we can just walk across it but there is water within digging distance below the sand so it's a bit of a struggle to walk and push a bike through. On the bright side, Andrea and I discovered we are actually quite close to each other. We are about 3km, or a 30-minute bike ride, away from each other and now that we know the way we will be able to visit one another much more often. But as this blog post's title states, it is over a river and through the bush but again, karibu Kenya.
 
Side note, I tried to upload pictures but it didn't work out very well (as you can see) but in next post I will try harder.

As promised, a bit more detail.

I realized that in my first blog post I recapped the last two and a half months here but I didn't really say what I have been doing on a day-to-day basis or too much about my site which is where I will be living for the next two years. Sorry if I repeat things...my memory is failing me in my old age.


So, let's start with my site...

I know I already mentioned that I'm located in the midst of a bit of a mountain range but I feel the need to emphasize this fact. It's incredibly beautiful to see the green, tree-covered hills in every direction whenever I step outside but again and at the same time it's a complete and total mind trip being that I am from northern Illinois where everything is flat and covered in corn and soybeans. I don't know if it will ever get old and I'm positive I will have at least 100 pictures of the same mountain from different directions and distances before my time here comes to an end.

The infamous hill that I already have 20 pictures of.

My town is a quaint little place that consists of a little over twenty small shops (in the local language they are called dukas), bars, butchers, hotels, my CBO, salons/barbershops, and a welder. I think my CBO is the only actual business located in my town which makes it pretty easy when the locals ask me where I am working because they have all heard of it. Unfortunately, my town does not have a weekly market but there are two towns located about seven kilometers (4.3 miles) in opposite directions from mine that do. I haven't gotten a chance to visit them yet because my CBO has been keeping me very busy but soon enough I'm sure it will be a weekly trip for me. The markets are where I will be able to get almost anything I need from fresh fruits and vegetables, various household items, and secondhand clothing. The fun (and sometimes not-so-fun) part about the markets is absolutely nothing has a set price. The not-so-fun part is they see a white person and they double the price so I have to go with a prior knowledge of about how much things should cost (which I get from my counterpart or supervisor) and then the fun part is bartering with the people.

My house is much larger than I expected it to be. I have a spare bedroom and I can't wait to have visitors! But furnishing the house is going to be quite the process. All of my furniture will have to be ordered and made by the local carpenter but with time, it will feel like home. Again, for the time being, my counterpart lent me a bed so don't worry, I'm not sleeping on the floor. I don't have electricity but one of the houses on the compound I'm on does so I am trying to talk my counterpart into getting it put in my house. If anything, I just want one outlet in order to charge my phone, laptop, camera, etc. I can do without the overhead lights since I'm normally in bed around 9 pm every night anyway. Plus, using a lantern is actually kind of fun...for now, at least. What makes for interesting nights is that the top of the wall isn't flush to the ceiling/roof. There is about a six inch gap between the two which on the plus side, allows for a lovely breeze every night but on the other hand, it also allows small visitors such as reptiles and not so small spiders to come and go as they please. It also doesn't provide much of a sound barrier from the things that go bump in the night which, in turn, made my first few nights alone in my house quite laden with anxiety. It rained for the first time Saturday night and thankfully, everything in my house stayed dry and it was actually pretty incredible to wake up to the sound and smell of the rain.

One of those not-so-small spiders.

I can't believe I failed to mention the children in my first post. Oh the children. Since the day I arrived in Kenya I have been a pretty obvious distraction for all of the kids around me. The younger they are, the more entertaining it is to interact with them because they are less likely to have ever seen a white person. Their reactions range from extreme joy and excitement to absolute terror. And the majority of them know one (and only one) English phrase which is "HOW ARE YOU?" Or even better, "HOW ARE YOU, MZUNGU?" (Mzungu literally translates to westerner but is loosely applied to anyone with lighter skin than the average Kenyan). This is cute for the first couple times you hear it but then you quickly realize that when you say, "I'm fine, how are you?" back to them, they have absolutely no idea how to respond and either say absolutely nothing and stare at you blankly or once you give up and walk away they say "HOW ARE YOU?" over and over again until they can't see you anymore. Fortunately (but sometimes unfortunately) children learn English in school so the older the child, the more likely they are to be able to communicate with you but that doesn't mean they will have nice things to say. Now that I'm out of training and there aren't 35 other Americans to distract the children, I'm more likely to be the first white person some of the really young children have ever seen and this is entertaining to them. They follow me in packs and if they fall behind a few feet they quickly speed up in order to catch up to me. Sometimes they say things to me and other times they just giggle amongst themselves. From my perspective, it's either adorable or incredibly annoying, depending on the day of the week. But it's my life. The children that live on my compound frequently circle my house and yell my name repeatedly and more often than not they will pause to peer in my windows to see what I'm doing. Luckily, the ones on my compound are adorable and pretty easy to put up with. Hopefully that lasts longer than I expect it to.

Two of the children who do laps around my house.

There is one other downfall to not having electricity or running water and that is washing clothes is a bit of a task. Especially pants (or trousers in Kenya, pants are underwear), jeans, sweatshirts, and worst of all, bed sheets. Luckily, my Mama and our house lady during training were excellent teachers (even though the concept of hand washing clothes isn't rocket science) and I've been steadily increasing my speed and ability over the past two months. Not having running water means that my daily (yes, daily) showers consist of me heating water and them pouring it in a basin and splashing myself with water, soaping up, and then repeating the splashing to rinse. It's actually pretty refreshing. Oh and my toilet, well, it's a pit latrine. Very similar to what we all use when we go to a camp site, minus the seat. It's literally a hole that you squat over and pray that you have good aim that day. Luckily, my many camping trips/house parties with incredibly disgusting bathrooms turned out to be incredible training for this part of the my day-to-day life.

A I previously mentioned, I haven't been doing much real work (Peace Corps orders). But my CBO has eight different groups that are affiliated with it and for the last two weeks I have been trekking to these groups bright and early, but not before I've had at least two cups of tea (six last Friday!). At each group I introduce myself and tell them why I'm here in Kikamba and all of the mamas laugh and laugh. Once the initial entertainment subsides, they tell me about their group. When they started, how many members there are, and what they do. All of the groups have their own tree nursery which is the site at which they meet on a weekly basis. They are all located near one of the two rivers that my town is located between and they all take trips to fetch water to "feed" the seedlings. Then they organize and sweep the nursery because all the groups are in direct competition with each other to have the cleanest work area. All of them eventually sell the seedlings to schools, churches, or environmentally-focused organizations within Kenya and this works as an income generating activity (IGA) for the group. Many of the groups also give a portion of their profit to orphans within the community and they all help to build sand dams for the CBO. They all seem pretty organized and business oriented so I'm just hoping I can actually serve a purpose here and teach them something over the next two years.

One of the tree nurseries.

So I finally broke down and created a blog...

Where to begin...

I have now been in Kenya for two and a half months and so much has happened. First off, let me start by saying I am still incredibly happy with my decision to do this and I'm having an incredible experience, meeting great people, eating tons of food, and learning so much about a new culture. The purpose of creating this blog was mainly for people other than my Mom, Dad, Kait, and Michael. I talk to them almost weekly and I know it's a little difficult to recap an hour long telephone conversation when someone asks them, "How is Laken?" "What is she doing over there?" "How in the hell is she even handling it?!" So to the rest of you, this is for you. I hope you enjoy it.

The two months of training went by so fast. I was in Loitokitok, Kenya, right at the base of Mt. Kilimanjaro and near the border of Kenya and Tanzania. It was beautiful...besides all the dust. The dirt roads were a constant source of irritation because when they weren't staining everything you owned a lovely shade of reddish-brown (including your skin), the dust was making you cough or rub your eyes over and over. But besides that, Loitokitok quickly became my home away from home. My host family was incredible. My host Mama was young(er) and spoke English quite well. I had a three-year-old sister, Mary, and a four-month-old brother, Freddy. My Mama stayed home and took care of the kids during the day and my host Baba was a carpenter and worked every day of the week but I saw him almost every night for dinner. My Mama made sure I never went hungry. There was always plenty of food and especially fruit for me to eat and when I told her I needed to lay off the avocados because I was struggling to fit into some of my clothes, she responded with, "Well then, I'm doing a good job."  Besides learning about the culture from my host family, I also had a more formal training Monday through Friday (and a lot of the time Saturday as well) during which myself and the thirty-five other trainees had long days of language, cross-culture, and technical training. At the end of these two months, we had a small, verbal language exam in which we were to reach intermediate-low proficiency. Which basically means, you must know how to say your name, your family's names, where you're from, greetings, and a few other random things. As easy as that sounds, it was incredibly anxiety-provoking. Luckily, I was able to pull off a score of intermediate-mid. That day was a good day.

Training came to a close a week later and we had a host-family appreciation day. My Mama and I wore matching outfits. Everyone loved it. My little sister threw a tantrum in front of everyone while I was holding her. The other trainees found it quite entertaining. And then I had to say goodbye to my Mama. It was sad and I started to tear up a bit and I may have let a couple tears fall. My Mama laughed at me and slapped me on the back and told me everything would be ok. The next day, all of us trainees boarded the matatus (basically mini-van taxis) and headed to Nairobi.

While in Nairobi, we continued with more training, of course and then we were sworn in as Peace Corps Volunteers at the U.S. Ambassador's residence. The highlight of that experience was not so much being at the Ambassador's house, or the monkey that joined the ceremony, the most memorable part was that there were bowls of Doritos scattered about the lawn on tables and if a bowl went empty, it got refilled. My group of friends and I ate a good 2-3 bowls in about 5 minutes flat. It's pretty rough being deprived of American food. The next day we all shipped out to our respective sites across the country. It was sad saying goodbye to everyone and hopefully you all know me well enough to know I was crying like a baby. It was pretty entertaining for everyone else.

The other Peace Corps Volunteer (PCV) that's close to me is a good friend of mine and her name is Andrea. We rode to our sites together along with her supervisor and my counterpart. (A counterpart is basically the person assigned to me in order to help me get acclimated to my community. We are basically each other's shadows. My counterpart's name is Emmanuel.) After arriving at my site, I met my supervisor, Milcah, and I was given my Kamba name (Kamba is one of the many tribes found in Kenya. They are mainly located in Eastern Province, where my site is.) My Kamba name is Mutheu, pronounced Mo-they-u. I was then taken to my house where I got to see that it wasn't quite ready for me. For the first couple days I stayed in an extra bedroom in my counterpart's parents house and then I was finally able to move into my house. Thankfully, they lent me a bed, a couch and a chair to temporarily furnish my house with so I kind of feel like I live here. Someday, hopefully soon, I will no longer be living out of a suitcase.

The community-based organization (CBO) I'm working (volunteering) for is a pretty incredible CBO. They currently are working on environmental conservation within the community by building sand dams in the two rivers that surround my area, creating tree nurseries, greenhouses, and fish ponds. On top of that, they are provide many of the primary and secondary schools in the area with large water tanks and energy-saving JIKOs (a JIKO is a type of charcoal or wood-fueled stove that the majority of Kenyans use to cook every meal). In addition, my CBO also provides hygiene, water sanitation, and HIV/AIDS and STI awareness within the community. The first two weeks at site have been a whirlwind. The CBO has kept me busy almost every single day by going out into the field to meet the different groups associated with the CBO. I walk an average of 4-5 kilometers every day (which is about 3 miles) and next week I will be getting my bike so I'll be able to get places much quicker. The weather here is incredible. It's about 70 degrees every day with absolutely no humidity and I'm in the middle of a mountain range which is mind trip for someone from northern Illinois. This is apparently the coldest time of the year though so all of the people are wearing long sleeves, pants, and the children wear little beanies everyday and they think I'm crazy when I don't bring a pullover with me everywhere. I can't tell you how many times I've tried to explain that I think it's hot outside and I'm not cold but it never makes sense to them.

Over the next four weeks at site, I'm supposed to continue getting to know my community and not really doing much real work. The only thing I absolutely have to do is a Community Needs Assessment (CNA) so I can try to determine what I might be doing for the next two years. After that four weeks, all of us new PCV's head back to Nairobi for almost 2 weeks for some in-service training (IST).

I've tried my best to recap two and a half months as clearly and quickly as possible and hopefully future posts will be a bit more detailed on what exactly I've been up to. Again, I hope you all enjoy and I look forward to hearing what you have to say.   :)