Monday, May 31, 2010

Why did the Chicken get onto the Matatu? To Sit in the Mzungu's Lap!

Jambo rafaiki! Habari yako? (Hey readers. How are you?)

I am going to learn Swahili if it kills me.

Anyway I figured I’d update you guys on a few stories that have happened lately.

So here in Kenya the rules of the road aren’t so much rules as polite suggestions like “wouldn’t it be nice if we all drove on the same side of the road?” You can guess that walking the streets can be a little dangerous. One should always be checking their six if you catch my drift. (for those of you don’t it means look behind you). I learned this lesson personally on Saturday.

Well walking down the street in the city Narok I met this guy Jay who also happens to be a counselor. We were walking along a road discussing the best way to teach kids safe sex when suddenly I heard a scream and felt myself being pulled through the air. I looked to my right to see a truck, yes a TRUCK, missing me by so close that the mirror hit my ar- and left a quite nasty scratch. Luckily Jay had pulled me out of the way right in time essentially saving my life.

Now here is the funny part of the story. The driver stopped the truck to ask if I was all right and apologized profusely. Then got back in his car and drove away. About 15 minutes later he drove past again, this time at a safe distance, and honked at us and waived asking how my arm was and told us to have a nice day. This is a wonderful metaphor for Kenyan culture; as soon as someone says sorry the issue is completely over. No grudges, no need to fight, no need to argue just move on with your life. This is why many issues are settled out of court. The people here see no reason to allow their lives to be infected by anger.

And here is another great metaphor for the culture.

On a matatu yesterday, meaning the small overcrowded insane buses, well getting onto the bus a man asked me if I would mind holding something. I agreed thinking at worst it would be a small child or a package as I have ridden the buses with both of these things on my lap. Little did I know that what he was going to hand me was not a briefcase or an infant but three, YES THREE, chickens tied together. Live chickens. Now I don’t know if you’ve ever held a live chicken, let alone three, but they are loud smelly creatures. I have also decided they have quite an insidious look to them- as if they are ready to attack at a moments notice. Luckily I was able to put the chickens on the floor where one of the chickens snuggled up to my foot.

The metaphor here being….only white girls are afraid of chickens here.

Just kidding. The insight this provides is that here in Kenya that people here think of favors as something anyone will do for anyone. Why shouldn’t we all be kind to eachother? Because if I’d wanted to I could have jumped of the matatu with his chickens and made quite a bundle, and yet this man trusted me with what was most likely his only livelihood.

Oh here is another story. On a different matatu a different chicken laid an egg. Literally. A woman got on with four chickens and when she got off we found a warm egg on the ground.

There is no metaphor here. That’s just weird.

Other metaphorless but funny tidbits are-

I am now the most popular girl here in Mulot as I rapped the first verse of gin and juice. Thank God for that cover.

One of the Form One boys, so what we would call a freshman in highschool, has fallen madly in love with Liz- a friend of mine I think most of you have met, because he saw her through skype.


Two prostitutes asked me to buy them beer because I am white. Those were their exact words.

In other news…WE MADE OUR GOAL TO KEEP FELISTER IN SCHOOL! That makes me so happy I can’t breathe. I was terrified of failing this girl. I am so scared of failing here.

Luckily on parents day someone told me that I wouldn’t be able to get the girls into the US- thus guaranteeing that I will risk life and limb to get this girls in just to prove that man wrong.

Otherwise it’s mostly quiet here, which is kind of bad because it gives me more time to miss home.

Yesterday a friend of mine named Dennis asked me if I missed Chicago and I burst into tears. FYI girls crying freaks out Kenyan guys as much as it does American guys.

Don’t get me wrong I’m still busy but only physically busy. It doesn’t take a lot of brain power to fetch water, wash your clothes by hand, boil the water to clean it, walk a kilometer to buy some milk etc. All of these things are pretty simple so I can drift off to home a lot.

That is until I fall into the slick mud or am carrying the water back to my room. When I am carrying the water all I can think about is how much the water weighs and how much I love whoever invented thick plastic handles for buckets- as opposed to thin wire ones that cut into your skin.

Anyway I am rambling. So I will sign off and write a better blog later.

Love/Miss/ Can’t wait to see you/ Wish you were here.
Pendo Pendo Pendo! (Love Love Love)


Tuesday, May 25, 2010

Minds Kindled by Oppurtunity

Hey everybody,

So I realized today that I hadn’t really written about the kids here. So let me tell you…

They are fucking awe inspiring.

Now when I use the word “awe” I mean it in the grandest sense of the term. These kids can literally bring me to tears on a daily basis. Not just because they need so much but because they ask for so little and try so hard.

They are so filled with determination and bravery but they never realize it because they have never thought about being any other way.

I mean think about it, what does it mean that I have been approached by four girls who want to come study in the US? They aren’t trying to go to the US so they can access cell phones or go to concerts or have any of things we, or at least I, desired so much at their age. They are going because they are desperate for education. I don’t know about you guys but I think that’s beautiful.

And they are so freaking smart. Here is an example-

Last Saturday a 13 year old named Lorraine, who had never seen a computer or an ipod before I came, was sitting in my office with me just chatting. I was reading some e-mail so I looked away from her for what could not be any longer then five minutes. When I looked up to say something to her I discovered that not only had she opened my kindle and figured out how to work it but she was deeply engrossed in the book “I, Lucifer”.

Now think about this. A girl who was exposed to this kind of technology a mere 3 weeks ago was able to figure out a piece of technology that confused most people at Stevenson. That’s amazing. Not to mention that about two hours later she was 20% through the book and had figured out how to use the dictionary on it with zero help from me.

And she isn’t the only one. Two other kids are engrossed in books on the kindle and showing everyone how to use it.

And that kind of sweetness and want to help others is seen everywhere, here is another example.

Davin and Junior took their placement exams into the school today, which has been a mix of joy and sorrow for me here, to see what grades they should be placed in.

Davin should be in the 5th grade and Junior in 1st according to their ages and these were the grades they were in when they left public school.

Neither of them could finish their tests.

Now this is clearly because of the public education out here but it was still soul crushing to look at Davin’s highest score of 30% on her Swahili test.

Junior couldn’t even read the Swahili test.

By the way they are both perfectly fluent in Swahili and speak it at home, rather then their mother tongue.

That is how bad public school here is. The kids in it don’t even have a chance. Thus the mix of sorrow and joy. Sorrow at the state of education in the country and how close these kids were to living in abject poverty for the rest of their lives but overpowering joy at the idea that they now had a real chance.

And where is the sweetness you ask?

Davin tried to take Junior’s Swahili test for him. Try to tell me that an older sister struggling with her own tests taking her brother’s test for him because of his pain and embarrassment isn’t beyond sweet- it’s the picture of raw love.

But back to the kids reading these books- you can’t imagine how amazing it is to watch them read.

The students here have never been exposed to literature besides what is in their texts book or anything with religious overtones, so for them the books I have are mind blowing. They never realized that there was a world out there.

I don’t know if you’ve ever watched someone expand their mind to understand a world outside of something as small as a catholic mission but it makes shitting over a hole kind of worth it.

Or totally worth it.

I can’t wait to see you all again. Don’t ever think for a minute I don’t achingly miss you all the time.


Monday, May 24, 2010

Manifest Destiny

Hey guys sorry I haven’t updated in awhile.

It’s just been hard to get time lately.

It’s also been hard just to make myself write because sometimes I’m scared of what will come out.

Because I’m angry. Angrier then I have ever been in my life.

I get frustrated whenever people in the US tell me they don’t have money to donate to help these kids and I think about how much I spent with one of you in one weekend and it makes me want to scream. I have to constantly remind myself that my friends are students and really don’t have a lot to share and remind myself that most people don’t really have an inclination to give up their drug money to help far away kids.

But it’s hard for me to listen to people say they have no money well I sleep on a pile of clothes and watch people, children, literally wither away in front of me from lack of nutrition, shelter, clothing, and hope for a future.

But anyway. I do have a good story.

On Saturday Mama and Abba (father) Michelle and I went to Bomet to get the cash to enroll the kids in school.

After buying the things they needed for school such as mattresses, shoes etc. we made our way to Bomet as it is the city nearest Mulot that has a bank. We hoped onto a “Matumba” or small bus meant to hold 14 people but was packed with about 23. The ride wasn’t terrible until he last 20 minutes when someone got on with a live chicken.

FYI chickens are loud, smelly, obnoxious creatures.

Once of our bus/mobile petting zoo we walked to a restaurant where we waited about 2 hours for some mutton and “oogali”, the boiled flour food, which would have been obnoxious if it wasn’t for Abba Michelle buying me Guinness after Guinness. Before you freak about me drinking in a foreign country let me tell you that Abba Michelle is a paramilitary police officer so I was feeling pretty safe.

So incase you are wondering what it is like to eat in a Kenyan restaurant I’ll say a couple things. First they bring you a basin and a pitcher of warm water to clean your hands with. After the waiter has washed all your hands he brings the food over on one giant plate and then one small plate with napkins on it. No utensils and no personal plates. People tend to be completely silent well they eat here. I’m not sure why. Also they tend to have a glass of water after dinner but never with. Ah well. Anyway when you have eaten everything on the plate and then some, and believe me you will not be allowed to leave the restaurant until you have eaten everything, they wash your hands again and bring you toothpicks and the check in a glass. They also sell cigarettes.

SO after that we had to walk to two banks because the first one wouldn’t accept my card, which of course caused Mama Michelle to panic that the money wasn’t there. She was practically hyperventilating with panic by the time we reached the second bank.

Mama and Abba stayed back well I pulled the money out because in Kenya it’s rude to stand near someone well they pull money out, but it was clear they wanted to be near the ATM.

So I put my card in and out came Ksh 20,000.

If your wondering what it feels like to hold that much money, even in shillings, in your hand I can tell you- it feels like tangible hope.

So I walked over to the parents waiting with baited breath and upon being handed the money Mama Michelle burst into something beyond sobs. Of course she refused to be held because she was too busy crushing me in an embrace. Small women, big hugs.

Abba Michelle couldn’t display as much emotion in public being a man but could offer me a handshake so vigorous I thought my shoulder might dislocate.

We made our way back to the main street and jumped onto a moving bus. And I mean that literally, the buses here don’t stop they slow down enough for you to be able to jog next to it and jump on.

As I sat on this overcrowded bus, and when I say overcrowded I mean it- I actually had to have a little girl sit in my lap because there weren’t enough seats, I felt something in myself connect.

I realized I had begun the rest of my life. I will never again have a choice in how I spend my time and energy because it is going to be doing this.

There is no going back now boys and girls. I have officially blessed my life/ fucked myself over.

Love and Miss and Demand money from all of you,

Thursday, May 20, 2010

The Next Possibility

Hello lovers!

So Kenya is providing me with so many weird stories that I don’t know where to start.

For example last night I met an Irish priest named Father Jack who is violently anti-religion, and at one point said-and I quote- “Jesus just got a little over excited” when I asked about Jesus destroying vendor stalls in Jerusalem.

I was also baptized with beer last night, but that’s another story.

In real news Mama Michelle will be bringing her nephew here by Tuesday and he will be in school by next week as will Davin.

For those of you who are out of the loop Davin and Junior, Junior is the boy (who named these kids?), are two orphans that Mama Michelle has been trying to get in school here for years but didn’t have the money to. So thank you to all who are helping get these kids, I wish I could explain how astronomically changed these kids lives have changed for the better.

But no more need to talk about past victories time for present problems. Such as my need to find a sponsor for a senior here to go to Narok college or my search for funding for a school for HIV orphans. Any ideas? If yes please tell me.

My father has started a website that should have a paypal account so everyone who felt moved to help could donate money.

It’s amazing how little money can go so far here. Yesterday a girl came to my office hysterical about not being able to afford a sweater for her school uniform. The cost you ask? 100 keyan shillings. That’s about a $1.70 so your aware.
It’s hard sometimes to stop myself from just giving money away. Really hard.

Particularly because I feel like such a pseudo-mommy here. I thought it would take awhile for the kids to warm up to me and talk about real issues, but it was like the second someone said guidance and counseling the flood gates opened. I feel like these kids don’t get asked how they think or feel ever and so the idea that there was someone who’s specific purpose was to just listen to them was mind-blowing. A kind of intimacy that is unfamiliar on both sides has been created and become strong enough that kids come to me not just when they are upset but to share things about a good day or when they don’t feel well or they just want to sit.

It’s a strange feeling to be so needed and wanted by so many. It makes me terrified of failure. And when I say terrified I mean keeps me up at night scared. I would face a million armed muggers if it meant I wouldn’t fail these kids.

Also could people send old books? The kids are literature deprived and I want to start a small library.

So my office just filled with kids cause it’s porridge time so I need to sign off.

Love love love love love you

Tuesday, May 18, 2010

The African Swing

Hey guys.

I feel like I don’t have the ability to write in any sort of way that would explain how I feel right now.

I just don’t have the capacity to explain the profound impact Kenya is having on me.

It’s like at some points I’m so high on helping I can’t ever imagine leaving.

And at some points I’m so content with the life here I think I might just get married in the church and live on the mission

And then at other points I’m so overwhelmed and depressed I can barley speak.

Kenya is exhausting me and my supply of cigarettes.

I don’t know how to explain it.

Sometimes it’s worth shitting in a hole and not having a shower to be able to send a kid to school and change their life in ways unimaginable.

And other times I feel so achingly alone that I would kill a kid if it meant I could go home right now.

And all the time I want chicken nuggets.

It’s really hard here guys I’m not gonna lie. Day after day it’s someone needs money to go to college or someone needs money to get to the US or this girl needs help out off an arranged marriage.

And I feel like there are so few I can turn to support to here.
Don’t get me wrong I’m very well loved but…well let’s just say I have a whole new respect for Eminem.

There is a profound difference between me and these people and that is that in 6 months I go home on a business class flight and get to take showers and have electricity and go to college and in six months they will still be here. In Africa. Unless I do something about it.

And sometimes that knowledge creeps into everyone’s mind at the same time and I can feel a small part of them hate me.

Of course other times people just want to touch me. Strangers here have actually stopped me on the street to thank me for coming to Kenya. People think I’m slightly insane for giving up everything I had in the US to some here but they are glad I came.

It’s just hard to deal with this pendulum.

And man I am so sick of being stared at. Particularly by the African high school girls and the girls in there 20s. There is some mad hatred going on there.

I’m just a bit down today. But really it’s more like right now as I will probably be high again in an hour.

I love you. I miss you. I wish you would all come here and give me a hug.


P.S. I’ve started to have dreams about showering and chocolate.
P.P.S. My J.Lo song just finished downloading so I’m high again

Sunday, May 16, 2010

So, You Want to Take a Shower?

Hey guys I know it’s been awhile and I’m sorry I’ve just been busy and electricity here is iffy so I’m afraid everyone will have to adapt.

Anyway here is Kenya the phrase “running water” is what we in the USA know as “a lie” so I thought I would tell you how to take a shower.

First heat a bucket of water you got from the nearby water source. Try to make sure it is filtered and clean but you can’t be too picky. Now there are two ways you can heat the water. Either use your nearby gas burner that you also use to heat your food and heat it one bowl at a time and use lukewarm water or tempt electrocution and stick an electric heater into your water and let it heat for, say, 20 minutes.

So during this time go have a smoke and read a bible verse or something. Don’t worry about time, your in a LDC you have nothing but time. You might as well change into your PJs now though. This will be explained later. Also gather your soap.

Ok so now you have heated the water. It’s time to move a bit quicker. Take your water, soap, towel, a wash clothe, and walk across the place you are living and go to the “bathrooms”.

Ok so now get naked. Try to hang your clothes and your towel somewhere you can keep it dry, but again you don’t have a chance to be super picky. Try for the least damp place.

Dip your wash clothe into the water. I hope that you heated the water to near boiling, that way it will stay warmer longer.

Use the clothe to moisten your skin. Then dip the wash clothe in the water and wring it out over your head to get your hair wet. The point right now is to use as little water as possible so you can save it for later.

Allright so now you can shampoo your hair and brush it well it is wet to get the tangles out. Do not be alarmed to find sticks or bugs in your hair. That’s just from when you tumbled down the mountain or from when you tripped running away from some crazy dogs.

Ok so now you have two choices. Either wring out the clothe over your head again to get rid of the shampoo or, if you are feeling lucky, try to pour a bit over your head. I usually wring it out.

Now you can condition your hair. You want to leave the conditioner in as long as possible because by now it has the texture of straw.

Also rub yourself with soap now. DO NOT PUT IT ON THE WASH CLOTHE! If you do the next time you dunk the clothe it will get the rest of the water soapy and you won’t have clean water to rinse yourself with.

Also if you are still choosing to go ahead and shave your legs right now. Why not? Might as well.

Make sure you have all the tangles out of your hair.

Ok now here is the best part- pour some of the water over yourself. It will feel wonderfully like a shower. Don’t make the rookie mistake of doing it all at once though. You might want to pour it over yourself a few times.

Now use your semi-damp towel to dry yourself off and get dressed. Wring your hair out and then put in a towel. You do not want wet hair around here, particularly at night.
Now you can put all your things into your empty bucket and carry them back to your room. Then take of your clothes and put on lotion because your skin is probably drying out. Enjoy the short time you had naked.

Obviously you can change your routine for what works for you, but this seems to be the best.

God I miss home.

Wednesday, May 12, 2010

Quite a Ride

So I was thinking that in this blog rather then talking about the HIV orphans I’ve met, the clothes the children wear here that are literally tattered or just the aching poverty that shames me- I would talk about almost shitting myself in public.

On Saturday I went to the Mulot Market here with Madame Grace, you might have seen a few of the photos. The walk started out nice, the weather was good, I was able to take photos and people were literally staring at me mouth agape.

Interesting fact before I continue, if you are a white Jewish girl with a digital camera in a poor African country people will actually stop what they are doing to stare at you. A few brave ones might even call out “Mzungu” which is the Swahili word for foreigner.

Anyway there I was feeling fine until suddenly the fact hit me like a ton of bricks- I was going to shit myself. Not only that but I was also going to vomit all over myself.

My only guess is that I got a bug from a piece of fruit I didn’t peel all the way or from brushing my teeth with the water too soon but either way I was pretty sure I was going to die as I couldn’t even stand up.

After I told Madame Grace and Madame Patricia about my imminent death they decided the best course of action would be to leave me alone sitting by myself in some shade in the market well they went to get some money. You can only imagine my joy.
As I sat there I knew that I could not under any circumstances get ill in front of these people or for the next six months I would be the white girl who threw up. So I sat there smoked cigarettes and literally smiled until it hurt.

So when Madame Patricia returned and announced we would take a taxi back I could practically feel the relief that would come. Until I saw the taxi.

It was a motorcycle. For the three of us.

Now I don’t know if you have ever ridden on the back of a motor cycle with three other people well ever liquid in your body is trying to escape but let me say it is not a pleasant experience. I would actually say it is quite painful and terrifying particularly because here you are not supposed to hold onto the person in front of you.

So there I was holding onto to dear life by squeezing my legs together hoping trying not to soil myself well riding through the countryside of Kenya.

How is this my real life?

Anyway of course when I returned I ran to the nearest bathroom but I had to wait another hour before I could get to some drugs to stop the pain.

I guess that’s Africa for you.

On the other hand last night I got drunk with two priests so I suppose everything evens itself out.

Love and Miss and Wish you were here all,

Sunday, May 9, 2010

Mission on the Mission.

Ok guys so the reason I am posting two blogs in one day is that sometimes I write one on word and can’t post it for awhile. Just so you know.

God there are a million heartbreaking stories here. It is a seriously painful expierence at moments watching these children work towards such an unknown future. Sure, when we were in high school we didn’t know for sure what school we would end up but it was sort of common knowledge that we would go to college get a job and lead a genuinely comfortable life. Here the kids aren’t even sure if they can get to a high school. There certain future if they cannot continue to pay fo rhte very expensive private education, which onlthat we would go to college get a job and lead a genuinely comfortable life. Here the kids aren’t even sure if they can get to a high school. There certain future if they cannot continue to pay for private education, which only gets more expensive as they get older, is really to end up in a village living a life without the amenities we think are the bare minimum. God I wish I could help them all.

There are two girls here who want me to get them to US highschools but I’m just not sure how to do that. One maybe, MAYBE, but two? How the fuck can I do that?

It’s so hard because everybody here is so kind and giving but also seem to want something from me. They want me to get them to the US or scholarship or just a way to get clean water.

I just wanted to build greenhouses.

I am so overwhelmed. I am sure othe only possible ending here is my absolute failure and let down, particularly of the girls who want to get to the US.


God I wish I could get even a moment alone to think to myself. I already feel stretched so thin. I don’t know what to do as my next move.

I love you all and miss you so much. I can’t wait to come home and see you.



So guys I am feeling much better both mentally and physically, so no worries.

Anyway, all of you know me as a pretty unreligious and at times anti-religious person, but Kenya has changed me.

I challenge anyone to come here and not love God.

Although by no means have I converted to Christianity I have realized it’s beauty. In the U.S. I think we are often taught that the missionaries that came to Africa were bad and forced an unwanted religion on an unwilling people but if someone actually looks at this place you realize that the people here love the church, not just God or Christ, but the church. It is common knowledge here that there is no way they would have the things they have if not for the church coming here.

Last night I met Bishop Davis Colins one of the ORIGINAL missionaries to come here to Africa. It takes mere minutes to realize that he came here not on a mission of bringing religion to Africa but on a mission of people. The only difference between me or this bishop is a church sent him here well I came with the NGO.

And if you could see the joy the church brings here. It has centered the community and made it a strong and loving place, the feelings of familiarity here can only be rivaled by those among small groups of young women. People love to gather there and sing and dance and just be.

Oh and the dancing you guys! I’m going to see if I can get a video of it so you can truly see the joy on these children’s faces and the peace it brings the adults. It is simply amazing, but it is more then that. It is awe-inspiring to realize that a mere 50 years ago this would not have been possible and yet here I am today dancing with the kids, watching them bring water, seeing children who would have died before have the chance at a real education.

It is enough to move me to tears, but more then that is enough to bring me to my knees and thank whatever power you tell me to because this is the truest and most pure beauty I will ever experience.

This is worth shitting over a hole for 6 months. For years. Forever. I can only hope that everyone I love can one day experience the ecstasy that I feel here.

On a different note all the girls here have mentioned to me that they want to get to the US and I am beyond determined to help them. I’m just not sure how. If anyone has any ideas on how I could get in contact with boarding highschools or colleges to get this kids to the west PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE send them to me. Either comment or send me an e-mail at

Also money is still needed and because I am trying to build greenhouses here I need supplies so if anyone wanted to give my parents money or send it to me directly it would be beyond appreciated.


I miss your faces.

I miss everyone and love you all so so much


Friday, May 7, 2010

SIck as a dog

Dirty has reached a whole new level here. If I ever here anyone bitch about a public rest room again I will slap them.

I was told by the NGO that the mission would have running water. Apparently not. Father Patrick has promised many times that the water will be running in a few hours, but I have seen now progress. Until then it’s all about a hole in the ground and brought over river water. I want to upload pictures of the “bathrooms” but I think the images might be too graphic. Even if that water gets up and running we still have to take basin shower¬s, essentially meaning splash some water on yourself, rub yourself with some soap and then ¬¬e remaining water over your head.

On the plus side I have a toothbrush so I guess I’m doing pretty well.

You’ll have to excuse my unhappy tone but I feel like I’m dying right now due to a mix of altitude sickness, adapting to the water and general wanting to go home.

There have been some great times here though and some times those in the moment was terrible but are already funny.¬¬

And example being how I immediately got my period upon arrival here and accidently peed with my tampon in and being not quite ready to use the bathrooms pulled it out and threw it into a bush.

Also Madame Grace won’t let me leave a table without finishing everything on my plate and me having to literally hide some in a napkin to throw into the garden.

Also the kids have been great now that I’ve finally met them. They always want to touch me or pull at me, particularly my hair. Yesterday about 6 girls braided my hair well the boys figured out my phone could take pictures and ran around the church snapping photos. The kids all tried to teach me the church dances and afterwards I tried to teach them the cupid shuffle but my ipod was too much of amazement for them to keep it on one song. Kenyan kids, by the way, LOVE Sean Paul. So that was cute.

All the kids are asking me if they can get scholarships to get to America, I’m overwhelmed with a want to help them all.

That can be the problem here everybody wants something from you or needs something from you or just generally wants to be in your space and stare at you and touch your things. Sometimes it makes me want to scream. Just like any more tea or oongali will make me scream.

Oh yeah food? Here it is.

Peanut butter sandwiches
Carrots and lettuce.
Oongali. If you would like to try some oongali go home, boil some water and mix flour until it is a paste. Then stir it and fold it until it is a ball with the consistency of a brick. CONGRATULATIONS you know have a Kenyan lunch and dinner.

Also I went to church this morning. It probably would have gone better if I hadn’t accidently sat in the choir section and even a fraction of it had been in English. I crossed myself backwards.

I have no idea what I am doing out here.

Love you and miss you and love you and want to come home and see you all,

Wednesday, May 5, 2010

Kenya Motherfucking Believe It?

Well guys here we are. Finally in Kenya. Just barely though.

The cab driver dropped me off at Hitler's Beige Maze (heathrow) but sadly at the wrong teminal. So of course I had to run dragging my 70 lbs of luggage only to get to my gate and find that my plane was late. A half hour to be exact. Could someone tell me how the fuck a plane can leave late at 6 am? What are there just too many pople trying to leave London at six in the morning?

Anyway that of course made me late for my flight to nairobi as after walking a 1/4 mile to get to the SECOND (wtf?) security check I had to take a train and walk another mile to get to my flight where i practically had to jump onto the moving vehicle. But whatever I made it.

Once in Nairobi I got to stay in my super deluxe room where for some reason the shower wouldn't stop runnning.

Nairobi is kind of everything you expect an african city to be but with more people in winter coats. Why? Well because it's only 70 degrees out. duh. Any story about Nairobi is tedious, allI can really say is that driving in it gave me a series of heart attacks. The rules of the road here are more like suggestions like "wouldn't it be nice if all drove on the right side of the road?" or "hey guys how about going less then 110mph?" In order to avoid death by shock I slept mostly through the journey. But when I woke up...I was in Africa.

It is so green here I can't imagine the gardenof eden being any differant. Lush, fresh, alive, whatever word you choose won't even come near describing this beauty. And no word you know can truly describe the poverty seen here. I only thought I knew what sad looked like until I reached mulot market. The people there looked beyond starving, the donkey's are more well fed. Except for the woman who offered me a dead chicken...she looked ok.

Before you read any further please go kiss the nearest paved road because you have no idea what a blessing that is. Even in just the five minute ride from mulot to the mission I felt ill.

The mission is beautiful and full of kids. They have something like 400? Alot of the kids don't accutalltypay to go to school but they are so bright that Father patrick makes ends meet.

The kids are shy but sweet. When I went to shake one girls hand next thing I knew I had 25 girls all grabbing at my arms screaming "HI" so I guess I'm welcome here.

I wish I had words to desribe the beauty but they don't exist.

But I do have words to describe the need for money here. WE NEED MORE MONEY. THE MISSION IS RUNNING LOW, WE DON'T HAVE ENOUGH CLASSROOMS AND WE NEED A GRRENHOUSE. Please send some.

I love loveity love you all and can't wait to come home.

Monday, May 3, 2010


Hey guys

So by now most of you heard the story of my near disaster a few nights ago but if not here is a breif synopsis.

I accidently got off at the wrong tube stop around 11:30 and after wandering around for a bit I found two nice looking british boys and asked them where the nearest station was. They told me that that was where they were going and we could walk together so quite trustingly I followed them. After about 10 minutes into the walk I noticed the guys arguing with eachother quietly and flipping a coin. This was not a good sign. I finally asked them, as they were about to turn down an alley, where the stop was and they informed me it was too late and the tubes had closed and my only choice was to stay at their flat. CLEARLY not ok. After the the one that seemed to be about to be belligerantly drunk eyed me like a piece of meat I agreed to stay with them but I had to call my cousin first. SO after they turned around I literally ran away and high tailed it out of there. This time I wasx smart enough to ask couples where things were but by the time I got to the tubes they were closed. So fuck me.

So I figured I would catch a cab but this is much harder then you'd think here as the cabs here are more difficult to distinguish from the regular cars and apparently there is an epidemic of people posing as cabs and robbing and assulting people, so after another five minutes and what was the begining of a full blown terror attack I asked people to help me get a cab, which they very nicely did, and ended up home safe.

Wierdly I am proud of my new found ability to trust my instincts in these situations because many of you know that just a year ago I probably would have just followed the boys home.

It feels strange to be proud of myself to be mature enough to get myself out of what was clearly a sketchy situation but I do and it has made me more confident in my abilities to keep myself safe in Kenya.

I think though that alot of people, girl in particular, have to reach this stage in life. For some reason trusting out insitincts is something we are told not to do well we grow up- you know don't judge a book by it's cover, judgement bad etc.- and we have to have a few nasty expierences to learn how to keep ourselves out of trouble. have been pondering this for awhile.

In other news I have seriously decided to move to London. I love this city and have loved most of the people and never ever want to leave, but we will have to see how that goes.

Love love

Saturday, May 1, 2010

Oh me? I'm just in London with some beautiful men.

There is nothing quite like being in another country to make you want to call anyone who has ever been mean to you and say “oh me? I’m just in Europe having some drinks and dancing with beautiful men”

I have decided I could quite happily live in London and embrace a life of self-indulgence here. Fuck Africa.

Well of course I am kidding and will most defiantly go to Kenya and follow through with that plan I am honestly thinking that I would like to move here and thus all of you should come over.

I don’t know if it’s because I’m in foreign city or because I am leaving or because I am striking out on my own but I find myself completely uninhibited, pause here to question what my inhibitions possibly could have been at home, but in a way it has made me much kinder. It’s like at home everyone had this idea that I would kick their ass, which I would, and I acted accordingly but here everyone assumes I’m just as sweet as the American girls on TV and so I get to be that way.

That is probably why this Iranian guy here on, whatsit Amnesty? Jesus I am so tired I can’t remember a thing. Anyway he wrote me a poem last night at the Latin club we were at.

I had some deeper profound meaning I was trying to get across here but fuck it I’m going to bed.

Love Love Love and kisses

PS don’t think I don’t miss home, I cried yesterday well buying a pair of pants because I miss you all so much.