Back on African soil!

For those of you who don't know, I'm currently on an adventure in Africa to tie up loose ends of my soap making project, to see what else can be done, and to travel to some countries I didn't quite get the chance to see last year. I have a travel companion, Rachael Estess, whom I met on my first trip to Kenya as an Intern with ThinkImpact. She and I will be in Kayafungo together, her working on a poultry project in which the women will raise chickens as an income generating component, and myself to see how Grace is doing, as well as how the Muungano Soap Business is going. We will be splitting our time between Kayafungo, and Mombasa, the beach town I lived in last year. We are staying with my friend Bryan in his new three bedroom house!

Currently, Rachael and I are in Lagos, Nigeria. We had a very uneventful flight to get here. But what has happened since we landed was far from that. The minute the plane touched down in Africa, the cabin was filled with cheers. Neither of us could quite figure out why until, we looked to the right and saw two broken and charred planes that had run off the tarmac. Needless to say we joined in the celebration. The planes had been there for what looked like years, but nonetheless we were grateful for our safe and breezy landing. During our wait in line for customs, we met two Scottish men who were drunk from their flight. They caused quite a less than entertaining show, between making crude and racist jokes, and scaring me about not having my yellow fever vaccination card (just another thing that was in my wallet!) Rach and I were quite ready to get out of line, which we did eventually to only meet our next lovely experience.

Cynthia, the woman who we are staying with, and whom Rachael met at a leadership conference in Florida, met us just by baggage claim. We got a trolley and started to look for our bags, two of which were in a roped off area being manned by an airport personnel agent. We went to grab our bags and they of course wanted to see our baggage claim slips. We promptly pulled them out, and the man began to tell us that since it was a flight based from the US that we had to leave the bags with them overnight in the office, as they are cargo. Well Cynthia lost it. She was livid. She started to cause a scene, and got other officials involved in the situation. Eventually it got sorted out and we left with our personal effects. They basically wanted it because we are American and wanted to pillage through our belongings to see if we had anything good- all items were accounted for- nothing was missing.

So we go outside and try to meet up with the car which was typical African style, organized chaos. We eventually get in the car and merge into the bobbing and weaving traffic, which I feel comfortable in even though its like a death trap- how easily we fall back into the familiar. The driver takes us to Cynthia’s office and we see her new storefront for her chicken business and pick her bags, as she has a speech to make in Rwanda this week. We get back in the car, meet Cynthia’s godfather, then continue driving to go to the Island. The Island is where we are to be staying and where Cynthia’s foster Dad and family lives.

The lsand is more and less than Rachael and I expected. The Island is not a sandy beach style resort, but a cosmopolitan, metropolis of Lagos. It is referred to as the Island, as people refer to Manhattan in the States. So needless to say I am not staying at the beach, however, where we are staying is extremely nice. Cynthia’s Papa, Emeka, works for Exon Mobile, and owns a house in a gated community. It is like falling into suburbia here in Nigeria. Its unbelievable from the vaulted ceilings, carpet, refrigerator, espresso machine, piano to the heated water, and the huge HD plasma TV, that we’ve been watching episodes of True Blood on. It’s unbelievable. The house next door belongs to Cynthia’s uncle Dayo, who is a pilot for Exon Mobile and is full of great stories, and good advice- such as how to survive a plane crash or make it out of a hotel alive. He’s corky and hilarious. Now mind you, this is not how the typical Nigerian lives.

During our tour of the Island, we went to the Bar beach- which no did not have bars on it, nor did it have a lot of sand or sunbathers- it was more a concrete board walk- that the government put in to modernize the city. What really happened was that it created a different tide current, effecting wildlife and pulling the sand away from the beach. Now the government has to dump sand at the beach to build it back up. We saw people drinking hooch, selling fried smoked fish (think fish jerky), shell bracelets and many homeless living on the beach. This is a quick dose of how different the class level is here, and how tangible how large the wealth divide is. After the beach we went and got gelato from Royal Chocolate, a dessert place with about 40 flavors of gelato, tons of cakes, and sweets. It was extremely refreshing after the hot sun. We drove around Victoria Island with is one of the many islands that makes up Lagos. Then ventured to Banana Island where the elite and extremely wealthy live. We saw the house of the Nigerian tyrant and drug deal, Abach, who is known for being extremely frugal but lavishly spends on himself. He even had gold reindeer in front of his house coming out of a fountain. The next stop was back home to have dinner.

Nigerians follow a typical African diet, one of which vegetables and meat is put with a staple in some sort of way. The staples include yams, plantains, rice, beans and corn. This is great news for me as it is naturally gluten free. The only time this is a problem is during breakfast, as Nigeria was colonized by the British who like cakes, bread and tea for breakfast—hello gluten. So after a bit of explanation, we’ve had eggs, yogurt and sausage for breakfast. Our first dinner was a spicier than hell chicken rice and vegetable dish. Very good, but left my lips on fire the rest of the night. Our second nights dinner was a very traditional Nigerian dish--- blended okra with fish, prawns, crab and meat, which created this slimly green soup- that looks like alega and smelled like open sewer. It was served with yams that were pounded into flour and made into a paste with a similar consistency to mashed potatoes that had congealed—I think the Nigerian version of Ugali. All of course that had a peppery bite to it that made your mouth water, eyes explode and nose run with a power Tylenol cold could do nothing for. Obviously, I loved it and it was delicious (*insert sarcasm). Rach and I went to bed a bit hungry that night. Our lunch on day three was amazing and totally made up for the previous night’s sludge. It was a vegetable salad and soup that were both spicy but amazing. We each had seconds. Dinner tonight was shepard’s pie- which is a layer of mashed potatoes then vegetables and meat (lamb tonight) piled on top of it then covered with a layer of mashed potatoes and cheese then baked. SO GOOD! Nigerians use peppers for everything, so tonight was spicy but heavenly. I’m stuffed to the brim.

Things have been slow moving and relaxing as the jetlag has really taken me into its clutches, and because Cynthia is speaking at the Rwandan’s first lady’s leadership summit this week. She will be home on Saturday morning and we will begin our research and purpose for being here. She has a lot planned for us. So for now it is episodes of True Blood on the HD TV that runs on the generator when the electricity goes out- a common problem here in Nigeria --- and hello all of Africa, going to the Black Diamond Hotel, which puts up the Exon Mobile employees, one of the newest hotels and well basically just resting until the weekend comes.

Last night we went to a Jazz and Barbeque night at this nicer restaurant in Lagos. Uncle Dayo knew the woman who owns the restaurant, so Teme, Cynthia’s cousin- who is 16 and provides such an insight into teenage life in other countries, Rach and I went to dinner. When we walked in I could swear we were seated at Bravo outside. It was surreal. The chicken and chips (French fries) were delectable, but of course spicy! The BBQ pit was outside, kind of like a charcoal grill made out of a huge barrel cut in half and on a stand. Good times, excellent music, and nice conversation. Uncle Dayo and Teme are so fun to listen too!

It has been mentally and emotionally rich living with a Nigerian family, even if we aren’t doing anything in particular. It is interesting to get to know another culture, especially without the language barrier that is such a challenge in Kenya. They speak a mixture of British English, American English and pidgin, which for the nerdy English major in me is a fun side linguistic project all on its own. I’m really enjoying myself. I can picture having a home in this neighborhood. I get how people can live in Africa and have a Westernized life- yet at the same time I realize that this is not a cheap token. To have a life like this, you have to have a high paying job. Better start looking for a job that pays! Lately, Rachael, Emeka and I been discussing a variety of topics, including politics, development work, movies, university, family and books- we literally talked for a half hour about the series Game of Thrones. I’m shocked and pleasantly surprised that I’m halfway around the world and having the same conversations that I’d be having at home with people. This transition to Africa has been smooth, euphoric in some ways!

Mama G.

Grace Chihanga is my community partner in Kayafungo, Kenya. She is a living breathing testimony to why social business and entrepreneurship will revolutionize rural areas such as Kayafungo.

Grace was born to a family of moderate means. She was a middle child who was fortunate enough to have a loving Uncle who paid her way through Primary and Secondary School. For all four years of Secondary school she sat in the first student seat, meaning she had the highest marks of her class. She unfortunately did not get the chance to go to University to pursue nursing, a dream of hers, but not because of lack of competence or lack of ambition, it was because of a lack of resources. University was unobtainable, yet this did not stop Grace from volunteering with the Kenyan Red Cross, AMRIF2- an HIV focused organization, ThinkImpact as a Certified Health Trainer, or the Ministry of Public Health and Sanitation as a Community Health worker. All positions of respect within Kayafungo, and also positions that lack payment.

Grace is motivated by the idea of helping others. She has one of the warmest hearts and positive attitudes of anyone I have ever met. She is efficient, effective and hard working. She is used to putting in extra effort when needed to cultivate a situation for the positive. She and her husband worked their way from a modest mud hut home to one of cement and grandeur, complete with solar powered electricity. Grace has an attitude and demeanor that would give powerhouse women in the States a run for their money. She has spent years devoting her time to establishing a network within Kayafungo and the surrounding areas. She epitomizes the vision that ThinkImpact has about community ownership of projects. As Chairperson of the Kayafungo Mungano Women’s Group, Grace has advocated for the making of soap to help alleviate the spread of disease by providing a product to the community for handwashing to occur. She wants the sales of this soap to not just be for income but to also have an educational component for the community. Grace and the women came up with this product themselves after asset mapping occurred in August 2009. After seeing partial challenges with access to one of the main local ingredients, the women in the group turned to Grace for guidance. As a women’s health activist, she suggested sanitary pads to be sold. After many lengthy discussions it decided that reusable pads would be the most effective.

I left Kayafungo for a period of time to go to Nairobi for some meetings. While I was away Grace located another female entrepreneur in a surrounding area, who works with young girls empowering them through football and educates on menstruation. Grace and her new partner had many meetings and discussions about different ways to make the reusable pads. Grace had meetings with the Ministry of Agriculture and Ministry of Public Health and Sanitation to learn more about the issue of access to sanitary pads, and to look for the grass her new partner had said could be used in the absorbency part of the pad. She did research on what local women use each month and approached schools about the support offered to young girls about menstruation. All this was self-prompted. She was doing market research without even being the wiser; just a natural step for her to take.

Grace is a motivational leader, of whom the women she works with turn to for advice and guidance, not just about the business, but also about health and life. Most of the mornings at Grace’s home consist of neighbors dropping by to chat, drink chai, and discuss things that are happening with them. Grace takes the time to sit as long as needed, with each and every one of them who drops in.

Grace has a thirst for academia and is always seeking for ways to learn as much as she can. She recently just bought a university level course book on business. She told me it was so she could further her knowledge, so the business will be successful. Grace works and sets up meetings without prompt from me. Grace is an example of the kind of person that a community partner needs to be. I know that my project would not be as successful as it is right now without her. She does the hard work, and I am here to facilitate and prompt thoughts. I know when my fellowship time is up; the KMWG will be in good hands.

Recently, I had a meeting that included some new women. I listened as Grace spoke about social business. She described it in English first in an eloquent and stimulating way. She completely understands the idea, something a few months ago I may not have been able to say. Grace will make this successful because of the passion I heard during that speech. When the soap and sanitary pad business is ready for expansion, she has contacts and potential markets identified to do so.

The attribute Grace has that might be the most imperative is her strong voice in the community. Living within a male dominated society, this is an important and key aspect to the success of the Muungano business. Grace knows who she is and what she stands for. She is prepared to fight not just for her own rights, and freedom of speech, but that of her fellow women in Kayafungo. She is a rare gem that shines brightly. Grace’s spirit illuminates those around her, and during meetings I see her confidence inspiring the other women.

Grace is causing a revolution in Kayafungo. She is causing women to rethink their situation, stand up for themselves, and begin to have hope. Grace is an entrepreneur for a vast number of reasons, but most importantly she is an inspiration. Grace is the reason I have come to fully believe in social business. This is the type of person I know lives undiscovered in many places throughout rural areas of the world. People, who are silently inspiring others, are fighting poverty in unique creative ways and are naturally leaders. All it took for Grace to take off running was a conversation. A conversation we had on the steps of a shop, about women’s health, and how to improve it. One conversation has ignited a fire that empowered 30 women to become businesswomen. One conversation that has changed my life forever.

Aunt Carol got me thinking.......

The French expression, "L'Afrique est comme une drogue," meaning Africa is like a drug, exemplifies the way life here in Africa is.

Like all addictions, you start small. The first taste hooks you. For me this hook, was the fact that there is so much need and life to discover here in Africa. I always talked and dreamed of going, learning the language. The culture of Africa seemed diverse, interesting and so rich. The first taste for me, was an easy sell, no peer pressure involved at all.

The second taste was more than I could handle. I set foot here in Kenya, and well I was over the threshold, both feet fully committed to this addiction. The minute I inhaled the sweetness of Kenya, I knew my life would never be the same.

Addiction like all things in life comes with its positives and its negatives. The highs here in Kenya include the wonder of the safari. Seeing animals that you only can see in the States at the zoo, in their natural enviroment. No concern for you, going about their business all in harmony. The highs show you the balance of nature and development. The highs are the vibrant people full of hope, love and happiness despite their surroundings. The highs are a ride of your life. The ride that takes you up and down, takes you to the far reaches of dreams and opens your eyes to the unimaginable.

The lows however of this addiction are heartbreaking. The lows are seeing poverty in the fullest of its definition. Seeing starvation. Lack of access to water. Lack of electricity. Lack of basic needs. The lows are knowing all this exists in a place you are now living, yet, you can do little to combat this. You are one, you are making a dent, but in the big scheme of things is too small.

In between the highs and low you realize that you are not the only person addicted. You are not the only person living in a hazy African fog of ugali, maize, love and emotion. You are together. You are one of many. You know that you are united under a common cause. The addiction that is Africa.

Africa. I hope I never have to go to rehab.

what color is development work?

Borrowed from what I wrote for ThinkImpact's blog

While only being in Kayafungo living and working with the group of women who have named themselves the Kayafungo Mungano Women’s group (mungano meaning united together in Swahili), I have come to realize that while development work at first seems like an adventure, it turns into something completely different. It is a something that will make you taste nature and the pure raw Earth. It will make you grapple with mankind’s endless kindness and foreboding cruelty. You will become aware of your surface ambitions, but will more importantly hone in on your acute fears, wishes and ideals.

Development work will challenge your morals, and ultimately your character in ways personal to your experience. You will learn no amount of school, training or advice will prepare you for your on the ground, real life, real people experience. The places and people you encounter will no longer be a face in a picture, a location on a map, a story you read somewhere, an advertisement or commercial for a charity; each will become a part of your soul and very being. You will ever be changed. You will never see the world again in black and white.

Instead the world will be constantly changing shades of gray with sporadic color bursts erupting when you least expect them.

Tonight is lonely, quiet and humid. The lack of free entertainment is something that reminds me of life here however. No television, no radio, no movie because of my lack of CD-rom in my netbook, and no real outings places to go that are 1)safe, and 2) free. Unless there are undiscovered hang out places I have no idea what people do here.. STILL. Yes, we venture to the bars, beach and into town but I can't seem to figure out where the "young" people my age are... its a mystery. If I had unlimited shiling (kenyan currency) I would find out. I would hunt for them. But alas I have little shilling and live halfway between Nyali (the nice/rich area of mombasa) and Old town- the thriving center of mombasa, so here I am on a Saturday night stuck. Now dont get me wrong I had opportunities to go out and party, but let's just say last night was "too much." If the internet/electricity goes out, I'm also out, out of luck. I would try to sleep but well its too damn hot.

So what have I done tonight? Sat on facebook and untagged pictures of myself... for like an hour. What a sad excuse of a Saturday night! Facebook is currently my frenemy... I long to deactivate, yet it is my true source of connection to people back home. Home. Where is my home? After living at school, moving down to North Carolina, and now living here in Kenya... where do I call home? I never imagined living back in Livonia, for more than a few months of transition, but as life has evolved, I know not where the transition will be too. One thing is for sure I miss walking on carpet barefoot, sitting around in my underwear eating gf crackers while watching CNN, and most of all living alone.

There is too much time here to think. And by think I mean overthink. One of my host Mamas, Mavella told me just a few weeks ago, that the worst thing anyone can do is to get lost in their own head. She told me this after revealing what life is like for a woman whose husband decides to take a second wife. Polygamy is largely practiced here in Kayafungo. She told me how no matter what to push on, and busy the hands, to busy the mind. Her advice I hate to say is so right, yet here I am sitting in my moist apartment lingering in my head. Flipping through old photos of the days at Central, wishing I was there, wishing my friends where here, wishing my hair looked that good here, wishing my hair was long or even short like the pictures, wishing I could see the snow, wishing I was as tan as some of the pictures, basically wishing for the best of all the worlds and all the things I've been so lucky to do the last few years.

Wishing gets you no where. Living is what drives the dreams we have, and reach for. I should get off my tush and go do something!

Kombe Chronicales Part 1

Kombe is a ten year old with the curiousity of epic adventures. Armed with his sling slot and dreams, he roams the dirt paths of Kayafungo looking for the unknown. He braves the brush and shrubs in search of creatures. If unearthed he befriends them as his new found pet, others may see this action as imprisonment but either way Kombe is appeased.

His most recent adventure brought him to Harriet the hummingbird. Harriet made her home in a lemon tree behind Kombe's hut. Kombe was out slinging rocks at chickens and goats when one of his arsenal went ary. The pellet flew into the lemon tree and stunned a very suprised Harriet. Harriet fell out of her nest with a soft thud. Kombe rushed to her aid. He was relieved when he discovered Harriet was well, scared, but overall just fine. Kombe scooped her in his calloused hands to place her back in her nest. As he was gently laying her in her home, Kombe discovered Harriet was a Mama. Mama Harriet had three small turquoise eggs in her cozy nest. After Kombe's rush of excitment and small high giggle sounded, he placed Harriet in her nest then plucked the whole thing out of the lemon tree. He ran as fast as his legs could carry him into his hut.

Kombe raced around inside trying to find a suitable resting place for Mama Harriet and her eggs. He placed her in a kanga that he has folded into a circluar ring, a nest for the nest. Then rushed over to his mother's sewing kit. Kombe withdrew a small silver needle and spool of brown thread, what his mother mends his school uniform with, and raced back to Mama Harriet.

Upon reaching Mama Harriet, kombe saw she was coming backaround and he needed to work quickly. He took hold of Mama Harriet by the wings and set to work. Kombe quickly and efficiently threaded Mama Harriets left leg to the small nest with her eggs in it. After his work he perched Mama Harriet over her babies and said good night.

The next morning Kombe checked his new pet. He saw that Mama Harriet was fairing well and was in the same position as the night before. Kombe left for school in his brown shorts and bright blue school uniform with satisfaction his new pet would be waiting for his return.

While Kombe was learning his 1,2,3s Mama Harriet was trying to break free from her prison. She needed to hunt so she would be able to feed her newborns as they were due to hatch any time. Mama Harriet tried and tried and flapped her wings with such force she was creating small dust swirls around her captive nest. Mama Kombe while taking chai heard this camotion in the corner and went to investigate. Armed with her palm branch broom she quietly approached the corner prepared to eliminate any vermon she discovered. To her great suprise she found Mama Harriet! Mama Kombe scooped up the nest, tore the string free from Mama Harriets leg, with her broad skilled hands and set her free. Mama Harriet dove and circled around Mama Kombes head in skillful aircraft tactics. Mama Kombe recognized this maternal instinct of protrcting the eggs from danger, and softly and slowly took the nest to the maurubine tree just near the lemon tree. Mama Harriet followed Mama Kombe back to the house before resting on her new perch.

Mama Kombe waited all day for Kombe to come home. Kombe rushed into the house as dusk approached, coming from school hastily instead of his usual slow tempo. The door burst open to the house and he went straight to the corner he placed Mama Harriet in. Mama Kombe watched her son from the doorway to the kitchen, she slowly stirred the pot containing dinner, as she saw the look of horror and sadness roll over Kombe's face. Kombe screamed and demanded to know where Mama Harriet was. Mama Kombe calmly replied she has no idea about what he was referring to. Kombe let out a mournful wail, tears leaking down, and staggered outside to check the lemon tree. To his great sadness, Mama Harriet was not there.

Shida has been following Laura and I

During my fellowship I am accompanied by a fellow Fellow, Laura MacArthur. She is working on an agricultural project as I am working on a health and sanitation project. During the last few weeks we seem to be Mazungu Magnets for shida.

Shida is a Swahili word for problem. And let me tell you Laura and I know the meaning of Shida here.

A few weeks ago Laura and I were in Nairobi, after a series of meetings falling through we decided to go to the Masai Mara, a well known safari area, known most for the wildabeast migration, and the vast views of the Rift Valley, home to many animals including SIMBA! (Lions!). The morning we are to leave, I am awoken at 3 am with the most intense stomach cramping I have ever felt. The next 3 hours were spent rushing to the bathroom with the Kenya equivalent of Montazuma's revenge. Needless to say the safari was to be delayed. Laura and I, along with our Country Director, Abdallah, pile into a car and head into town to go to the hospital. The hospital is pretty empty, and the night shift is ready to help. I have to leave a stool sample and give 3 vials of blood. Laura came back into the hospital room with me as to keep me company. The RN on duty- a guy who has little practice with English, one of Kenya's native languages, tells Laura she is the run the samples to the lab. Laura, a non medical personelle member, is to take my poop and blood to some unknown corner of the hospital... can we say WHAT? How is this even allowed to occur? Well either way she trots off with the "goodie" bag and goes to the lab. While she is gone the trusty RN fills my IV line- which he had less than zero skill putting in- 2 weeks later I still have a bruise!- with a medicine that makes my head feel like it could pop off. No warning, no nothing. I just have the strangest sensation, and when I panic because I think I'm about to stroke out the machine I'm hooked too goes haywire from my heartrate, and the RN goes, "oh you will feel funny for a minute. don't worry. hakuna shida!" WHAT! What kinda of Nurse are you--- oh right you aren't even a doctor--- great. At this time Laura arrives after a mouse maze to get to the lab. Story gets better later in the day... but basically I had a bacteria and a 104 fever! Yikes. At least it wasn't malaria- like the day doctor who came on duty was extremely worried it was.

The next day we delayed the safari again and I sat around recovering and visiting my new favorite place the bathroom- in which the toilet also had flushing issues!

Finally the safari! Laura and I are all packed up in our tourist clothes, and we are off. We get in the van to take us to the mara and about 3 hours into the drive, the van breaks down. It doesn't just sort of break down, it breaks down in the middle of no where! The only thing around are a herd of masai children who are so excited they cant stop crowding around, and trying to touch our "soft hair." needless to say the situation was less than wonderful. Another safari van rolls up, and by random chance a guy on safari is a mechanic, he climbs under the car and says that the issue is the radiator, it has a leak. He suggests taking it somewhere to get a patch, and then a driver of yet another safari van says, "oh no when we are out in the mara we use this!" He produces from a pocket an ORAL REHYDRATION SALT packet! Needless to say the mazungu with the degree was ignored and the rehydration packet was used, as Laura and I were shuffled into a different van like sardines with a church group. This set the tone for the safari. The car broke down EACH DAY we were in the mara. INcluding on the drive back home.

The following days consisted of Laura and I's tuk-tuk, a small cab that runs on a vesper's motor, breaking down and rushing into oncoming traffic, the lights at the grocery store going out when we are there- 3 times. AND a movie we went to see flickering and dying in the middle. SHIDA SHIDA SHIDA. We are now the Kenyan Queens of Shida. We should make headpieces for each event that happens, it would be enormous. One day Laura and I will document fully the shida that has happened in more epic details.