Monday, March 23, 2009

Blogging kills me...

As far as I have been concerned, only eight people read my blog, so I realistically cannot be blamed for slacking off. I frequently wonder why someone would be interested in what I am doing, as it has become thoroughly normal for me. But I will try to continue where I left off. (And Elena, despite what you may think, the Communist Manifesto and the causes of the French Revolution sound extremely interesting.)

So after the exciting week of my previous post, there was another normal week, and at the end of that week, I rewarded myself by going to Mombasa. Mombasa is the largest city on the coast of Kenya and is its main port. It's also predominantly Muslim, which was interesting. We took a bus from the Nairobi city centre that departed promptly at 10pm African time, so it was really almost 11pm. Large sections of the highway were unpaved, the bus was terrible, and our driver had seriously impaired judgment, so there was no sleep for me that night. We arrived in Mombasa at around 6am, just in time to hear the call for prayers and watch the men and boys shuffling down the street in their pajamas en route to the mosque. Sharon's boyfriend Rico came to pick us up and take us to his apartment. When we got there, we all ate a light breakfast, Rico headed to work, Sharon and Erin went to bed, and I sat around and watched Bad Boys 1 and 2 before drifting off to sleep for half hour or so. Then we hit the beach.

We went to the beach everyday for the four days that we were there. Rico's apartment was a twenty minute walk from a really nice beach with a hotel on it. It was fairly empty on Friday, although Erin and I were thoroughly annoyed by the salesmen who walk the beach and pretend to just be interested in having a conversation with you.

To sample a conversation with any one of these salesmen:
Kenyan: "Hello, how are you?"
Me: "Fine." (Note the lack of a return question; clearly, I don't want to carry on this conversation, but it's not up to me...)
K: "How do you find Kenya?"
M: "It's great."
K: "You like it here?"
M: "Yeah."
K: "Are you from (Sweden/England/America)?"
M: "No. Canada."
K: "Ooohhh, Canada."
M: "Yeah."
K: "You like the beach?"
M: "The beach, but not the salesmen."
K: "Ooohh, the Masaai men are bothering you?" (Indicates other salesmen dressed in traditional Masaai garb who have not come to talk to me at all.)
M: "No, you're bothering me."
K: "You like (key chains/stone carvings/randomly decorated wooden plaques)?" (Indicates wares.)
M: "No. I'm not buying, I have no money."
K: "You have no money?" (Grins broadly to show that he doesn't believe me, as clearly all white people have infinite stores of cash that they keep on them at all times. Obviously.)
M: "I have no money."
K: "But looking is free!"
M: "I don't care, I'm not buying." (Turn over to lay on stomach and continue reading book.)
Following this, the local salesman might take the hint and leave, but he might stick around to (watch me tan/look out at the ocean or beach/wait for more tourists to approach/continue on a "conversation" while I respond with the occasional "mmm-hmmm"/kill time indefinitely).

On Saturday, we drove for a few hours for no other reason than to get ridiculously hot and visit a beach that was slightly worse than the one we could have walked to in twenty minutes. Overall, Sharon's boyfriend Rico was not a host. I could have said he wasn't a good host, but he just wasn't a host. It was a bit of a letdown and I think I'm going to go back later so I can actually see the city. On Sunday, we hit the regular beach, which was much busier, as Sunday is the only day of the week that there is no school. Needless to say, the locals were more than entertaining. On Monday, we went to see Fort Jesus. It was the original Portuguese outpost in the area, and it was really cool. Following that, we inevitably hit the beach.

I feel as though the weekend after that was Erin's last weekend, although there is a very real possibility that I lost a weekend in there somewhere. Doubtless, nothing much happened. So the next weekend excursion that I can remember was a trip to Mlongo. Another volunteer, Anina, has just bought a house here, so she had a housewarming party. When she got to Kenya, Anina decided that the HIV/AIDS treatment and awareness program through Fadhili was lacking, so she decided to change it. She remedied the situation by purchasing a house. Mlongo happened to be out in the sticks, but she lived on a brand new compound that is entirely safe, you can even walk outside after dark. It was really cool. That's also where I learned that if you have the money for the meds, malaria isn't actually a problem at all. It just gives you street cred.

So that brings me to now-ish. Erin left last week Monday, and it is much lonelier here without her. I'm currently the only volunteer working at my school, but it's fine, because either this week or next week, Mike from my orientation group (there are a lot of Mikes here) is going to start working there. And in about a week and a half, I'm going to get another roommate.

The weekdays here are mostly the same. I wake up at seven, Lucky comes to pick me up at 8:30, I work in the kitchen most mornings, I teach French in the afternoons, I go home at four, I go to either the internet cafe, the Nakumatt, or both, I have dinner, I read until I can't keep my eyes open, I fall asleep, and it starts all over again. But I still love what I'm doing. The kids at school are really great, and I'm starting to get to know a few of them really well. Lucky, for instance, doesn't even go to my school, but when Erin was working here, the head teacher of her school sent him to pick her up every morning. So after she left, he kept coming. But I refer to him as my little African brother: he's sixteen and is a Chelsea FC fan. Therefore, he is Tim, but named Lucky, and living in Kenya. Both Tim and Lucky are flattered by this comparison.

Anyway, the highlights of this week will hopefully be buying mattresses for the orphanage, as they are eight short, and taking the kids on a field trip to Naivasha. I hope to post more frequently from now so that the posts aren't as long and there aren't as many gaps in my memory. Also, I want to thank everyone for their interest (the eight people who follow my blog and the others who just read it, but may or may not exist), it's rather flattering.

8 comments:

  1. i am flattered
    it's like having a black me in another place!

    ReplyDelete
  2. o by the way the whole conversation with the salesemen, i went through something similar with the paresan africans. one called me a rasta and i felt like i'd buy something from him just for that

    ReplyDelete
  3. there meghan... i am now a follower... just so you know there are more of us out there......

    ReplyDelete
  4. This comment has been removed by the author.

    ReplyDelete
  5. I am joining the group too. Loved the salesman dialogue.

    ReplyDelete