I thought I was in a film last night. I had arrived at the hospital compound from Nairobi at 5:30pm last night just as it was getting dark and it was raining heavily. Elizabeth, the nursing matron, went to arrange a ride home for me.
I am standing under the awning with some other staff when I see some headlights flicker on. Some smoke comes belching out of this small truck and I see someone looking under the hood and playing with some wires. After 10 minutes of revving the engine, flicking the lights, the truck suddenly comes lurching down the hill as if it has no brakes. The transistion was not smooth and it was jumping around like a frog about to be stepped on.
“Alida, that’s your ride,” someone says.
All I could do was laugh. I load my bags in the back and gingerly open the door. I am expecting it to fall off. Thankfully, it doesn’t and we set on our way. The truck is still jumping as if the driver is still learning to drive a stick shift. He laughs and says, “the battery is not very strong!”
Less than 50 metres down the road, Isaiah is sticking his head under the steering wheel to remove his shoes. Is there some special test I will have to pass to drive with my head under the steering wheel with no shoes on?
He explains, “there is very much water coming in from somewhere and it is making my shoes wet. I have to remove them so I can keep them dry.”
Again, all I could do was laugh. We slip and slide our way to my house, nearing taking out numerous pedestrians and fenceposts. We “stopped” to pick up one rider, although Isaiah had to simultaneously brake and step on the gas to keep the truck going.
We arrive at my house to a barbed wire gate which I have to take down so that Isaiah can turn the truck around. He manages to leave without getting stuck and I struggle not to rip my skin to shreds trying to put the barbed wires sticks back in place in the dark. I jump over my barbed wire shortcut with my suitcase and backpack to a warm, dry welcome at home.
Now, if you have never seen the movie “the gods must be crazy” you probably won’t think this is funny as I do. So, go rent the movie and you will understand my vehicular experience!
(addendum: my kenyan colleagues were laughing so hard at the scene that they told me to journal about it. they also have all seen "the gods must be crazy" and agreed it was similar.)
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
Sunday, October 21, 2007
new photos
i updated some photos, check out the links on the side.
i will write some new blogs this week, i have been very deliquent about that...
i will write some new blogs this week, i have been very deliquent about that...
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
facebookisms
Alida is….
*Learning to be a good farm girl in the Rift Valley.
*Building arm muscles stirring ugali (corn flour & water), shucking corn, and hauling water from a well for a bath.
*Getting her butt kicked racing school kids down the road, and their shoes are completely falling apart.
*Is hoping she gets nice legs and bum walking 5-10 km a day.
*Is absolutely itching to buy a bike so she can stop walking 5-10km a day.
*Really, really wanting to buy a 100cc Yamaha motorbike so she can ride on the dirt roads during rainy season and do the 40km round trek to town without dying on a matatu.
*Is wondering why there are 4 Bata shoe stores in the span of 2 blocks in downtown Eldoret.
*Shaking her head as a billionaire is flying overhead in his helicopter while 8 year old homeless kids are sniffing glue on the street.
*Having her skin touched, hands held, and hair tousled by curious children on the road.
*Being stared at most of the day by people who have not seen white people before.
*Going through a coffee withdrawal and looks forward to getting her bodum and fresh coffee from her bag in Nairobi.
*going to have broken hand rehabilitation by milking a cow very soon.
*has eaten 2 omelets in one week, after eating less than 5 eggs in 30 years.
*is drinking fresh cows milk every day.
*eating beans and potatoes for breakfast everyday
*the only person in the whole town who wears sunglasses.
*happy to be living 20 minutes down the road from and old college friend and his wife! (small world).
*learning a lot about very interesting beliefs about procreation….
*trying to avoid getting set up with a kenyan man and may start wearing her “stay single” tshirt.
*a cell phone owner even though she doesn’t hear it ring most of the time.
*a bit surprised that she has seen personal ads looking for a “God fearing, very fertile, intelligent, second wife” (again, that stay single tshirt)
*Learning to be a good farm girl in the Rift Valley.
*Building arm muscles stirring ugali (corn flour & water), shucking corn, and hauling water from a well for a bath.
*Getting her butt kicked racing school kids down the road, and their shoes are completely falling apart.
*Is hoping she gets nice legs and bum walking 5-10 km a day.
*Is absolutely itching to buy a bike so she can stop walking 5-10km a day.
*Really, really wanting to buy a 100cc Yamaha motorbike so she can ride on the dirt roads during rainy season and do the 40km round trek to town without dying on a matatu.
*Is wondering why there are 4 Bata shoe stores in the span of 2 blocks in downtown Eldoret.
*Shaking her head as a billionaire is flying overhead in his helicopter while 8 year old homeless kids are sniffing glue on the street.
*Having her skin touched, hands held, and hair tousled by curious children on the road.
*Being stared at most of the day by people who have not seen white people before.
*Going through a coffee withdrawal and looks forward to getting her bodum and fresh coffee from her bag in Nairobi.
*going to have broken hand rehabilitation by milking a cow very soon.
*has eaten 2 omelets in one week, after eating less than 5 eggs in 30 years.
*is drinking fresh cows milk every day.
*eating beans and potatoes for breakfast everyday
*the only person in the whole town who wears sunglasses.
*happy to be living 20 minutes down the road from and old college friend and his wife! (small world).
*learning a lot about very interesting beliefs about procreation….
*trying to avoid getting set up with a kenyan man and may start wearing her “stay single” tshirt.
*a cell phone owner even though she doesn’t hear it ring most of the time.
*a bit surprised that she has seen personal ads looking for a “God fearing, very fertile, intelligent, second wife” (again, that stay single tshirt)
farm girl
As a young girl, I resembled Laura Ingalls from the TV show so much that I was asked for my autograph on a couple of occasions. Even watching the show now, I feel like I am looking in a mirror. I had the two long braids, big buck teeth, but lacked the bloomers and bonnet. Well, I now understand the advantage of bloomers. When it is less than 10 degrees Celsius and you have just bathed in a wooden shelter out of a bucket and now must put on a skirt, bloomers would probably be nice and warm!
But by the time I am finished living in rural Kenya, Laura Ingalls is going to have some stiff competition. I have already honed my drawing-water-from-a-well skills in Indonesia and Nigeria and can do it so well that even African women are impressed with my knack for hauling H20.
I am currently learning how to properly stir ugali to a perfect paste in an “African kitchen” over a wood burning mud stove. And I can tell you, it looks easier than it is. Try mixing cement in a steel pot over a fire with smoke in your eyes. Mama said I am almost ready for independence and I will soon be preparing it on my own without any flour clumps in it.
Baba has threatened that I will be milking the cows as soon as my hand is healed, or did he say it would be good therapy to heal my hand?
I stopped using the headlamp to go to the outhouse because I could see how many spider webs were gracing the wooden throne. I am now probably one of the fastest bathers in the world as the warm water quickly evaporates off my cold skin in the bathing shelter in the cool of the Kenyan morning. Living at an elevation of 8,000 feet has its benefits in keeping the weather cool and it is never so evident to me at bath time. Alas, I do bathe with warm water which I truly appreciate!
You know how your parents had to walk 5 miles to school in the snow uphill both ways? I almost have them beat with walking 2 km each way through muddy roads and farmland to work although I don’t have to go uphill. This morning I had 5 pounds of mud on each shoe despite following Mama down the railroad half the way to the hospital. I am quickly becoming an expert in avoiding stepping in cow poo without even looking down at the road.
Although they do not have covered wagons here, I am sure that hopping in the back of a pickup truck and bouncing down a Kenyan dirt road is just as challenging. On Saturday I wedged myself between metal gates and bags of cement in the back of a little Isuzu and tried to precariously hang onto the sides while it bumped through 2 foot potholes. (I think I need to make friends with the local billionaire who just flies his helicopter to avoid road traffic – no lie, it was flying over me on Sunday on my way home from church).
I am fortunate enough to do my Swahili homework by electric lights and not kerosene lamps. But we have some just in case as the power goes out at least once a day.
All of these rural experiences are molding me into a more versatile and grateful person. I love the family who is sharing their home and life with me. I am learning how to be flexible in a challenging environment. And I am practicing my audition in case they ever decide to do a “Little House on the Prairie 2: Alida vs. Laura.”
But by the time I am finished living in rural Kenya, Laura Ingalls is going to have some stiff competition. I have already honed my drawing-water-from-a-well skills in Indonesia and Nigeria and can do it so well that even African women are impressed with my knack for hauling H20.
I am currently learning how to properly stir ugali to a perfect paste in an “African kitchen” over a wood burning mud stove. And I can tell you, it looks easier than it is. Try mixing cement in a steel pot over a fire with smoke in your eyes. Mama said I am almost ready for independence and I will soon be preparing it on my own without any flour clumps in it.
Baba has threatened that I will be milking the cows as soon as my hand is healed, or did he say it would be good therapy to heal my hand?
I stopped using the headlamp to go to the outhouse because I could see how many spider webs were gracing the wooden throne. I am now probably one of the fastest bathers in the world as the warm water quickly evaporates off my cold skin in the bathing shelter in the cool of the Kenyan morning. Living at an elevation of 8,000 feet has its benefits in keeping the weather cool and it is never so evident to me at bath time. Alas, I do bathe with warm water which I truly appreciate!
You know how your parents had to walk 5 miles to school in the snow uphill both ways? I almost have them beat with walking 2 km each way through muddy roads and farmland to work although I don’t have to go uphill. This morning I had 5 pounds of mud on each shoe despite following Mama down the railroad half the way to the hospital. I am quickly becoming an expert in avoiding stepping in cow poo without even looking down at the road.
Although they do not have covered wagons here, I am sure that hopping in the back of a pickup truck and bouncing down a Kenyan dirt road is just as challenging. On Saturday I wedged myself between metal gates and bags of cement in the back of a little Isuzu and tried to precariously hang onto the sides while it bumped through 2 foot potholes. (I think I need to make friends with the local billionaire who just flies his helicopter to avoid road traffic – no lie, it was flying over me on Sunday on my way home from church).
I am fortunate enough to do my Swahili homework by electric lights and not kerosene lamps. But we have some just in case as the power goes out at least once a day.
All of these rural experiences are molding me into a more versatile and grateful person. I love the family who is sharing their home and life with me. I am learning how to be flexible in a challenging environment. And I am practicing my audition in case they ever decide to do a “Little House on the Prairie 2: Alida vs. Laura.”
mzungu
Gringo, bature, mzungu – they are some of the words that identify me as a person in a culture that is not my own. White person – two words that can at times make me cringe. I have never been very sure if these words are simply a description or are said in a context that carries some spite, anger or discontent.
One of my Swahili teachers provided one plausible explanation for the history of the word mzungu that does not bring with it a derogatory feeling.
The coastal people of Kenya used a bluff overlooking the water to watch for sinister weather but one day saw something else that was even stranger than a bad storm. Over the whitecaps, they saw a strange moving thing with large flapping sheets. As it drew nearer, they became frightened by this enormous thing moving on the water. But even more disturbing was what was on the boat. They saw creatures with very light skin, long hair and even wild hair on their faces. The coastal people had never seen anything like these creatures and decided it would be best to escape before the creatures landed. They ran for over a month and arrived in what is was known as Zanzibar. They told the local people they had run from strange creatures arriving on the coast of their homeland. They couldn’t be sure what they were or what their intentions were, but they thought it best to stay away from them. They had been settled there for little more than a month, when again they spotted these large vessels with the strange creatures approaching Zanzibar. They exclaimed that these creatures have “been coming around” as they went from their homeland and now were “coming around” to Zanzibar. The verb for “coming around” in Swahili is “zunguka” and to “be surrounded” is “zungukwa.” Thus, they created the word, “mzungu” for these strange creatures that were coming around.
Whether or not this explanation is exactly true, I do not know, but I know that I am stuck with the name mzungu regardless. My host mother explained to me today that some of the children out here in the Rift Valley have never seen a white person before; they only know the word to describe what they see. Some of the children think that my name is actually mzungu, hence they believe they are calling me by name as I pass by their farm. So, I no longer cringe when I hear mzungu whispered by a 3 year old in downtown Nairobi or yelled across a field in the Rift Valley, for they are greeting me by name. And I am coming around to greet them.
One of my Swahili teachers provided one plausible explanation for the history of the word mzungu that does not bring with it a derogatory feeling.
The coastal people of Kenya used a bluff overlooking the water to watch for sinister weather but one day saw something else that was even stranger than a bad storm. Over the whitecaps, they saw a strange moving thing with large flapping sheets. As it drew nearer, they became frightened by this enormous thing moving on the water. But even more disturbing was what was on the boat. They saw creatures with very light skin, long hair and even wild hair on their faces. The coastal people had never seen anything like these creatures and decided it would be best to escape before the creatures landed. They ran for over a month and arrived in what is was known as Zanzibar. They told the local people they had run from strange creatures arriving on the coast of their homeland. They couldn’t be sure what they were or what their intentions were, but they thought it best to stay away from them. They had been settled there for little more than a month, when again they spotted these large vessels with the strange creatures approaching Zanzibar. They exclaimed that these creatures have “been coming around” as they went from their homeland and now were “coming around” to Zanzibar. The verb for “coming around” in Swahili is “zunguka” and to “be surrounded” is “zungukwa.” Thus, they created the word, “mzungu” for these strange creatures that were coming around.
Whether or not this explanation is exactly true, I do not know, but I know that I am stuck with the name mzungu regardless. My host mother explained to me today that some of the children out here in the Rift Valley have never seen a white person before; they only know the word to describe what they see. Some of the children think that my name is actually mzungu, hence they believe they are calling me by name as I pass by their farm. So, I no longer cringe when I hear mzungu whispered by a 3 year old in downtown Nairobi or yelled across a field in the Rift Valley, for they are greeting me by name. And I am coming around to greet them.
incognito
Even in the best of times I am not a very subtle person. Among friends and family I am known to be opinionated, loud at times, laugh loudly when it is quiet, and people generally know when I am around. I made a “disturbing” speech about HIV & AIDS from the pulpit of my childhood church shortly before I left for Kenya. I said the word sex several times and if people didn’t know who I was before, they certainly are not likely to forget now. I am not very incognito.
Now, imagine this loud, outspoken girl in Kenya where her skin colour speaks volumes before she even opens her mouth. Incognito, I think not. In addition to my light skin colour, I arrived with a broken hand which was bandaged and drew many stares by itself. When I didn’t want to explain extreme mountain biking to people, I joked that I had punched someone and broke my hand (I usually told this to tall men with guns, not grandmas or children). I again realized I was not incognito when after my cast was removed, I walked through a government building area in Nairobi and a guard that I didn’t recognize, but had apparently conversed with, yelled jokingly after me, “Don’t hit any more people!” I garnered a few stares from passerby’s and smiled very gently at them.
Now, I am living in the Kenyan countryside in an area that few white people frequent. As I make my six kilometer trek from the main road to the farm, children and adults alike run from their homes, abandon their cows, and stop their work to stare as I pass by. I greet each and every one with a “habari yako” or “what’s the news” to which they give the standard reply of “nzuri” or “fine” but stand with a look of astonishment. School children run after me in groups, and when I greet them they literally somersault on the ground in peels of laughter. I have barely opened my mouth in public in a week, but my physical presence is speaking volumes. Incognito, I think not.
Now, imagine this loud, outspoken girl in Kenya where her skin colour speaks volumes before she even opens her mouth. Incognito, I think not. In addition to my light skin colour, I arrived with a broken hand which was bandaged and drew many stares by itself. When I didn’t want to explain extreme mountain biking to people, I joked that I had punched someone and broke my hand (I usually told this to tall men with guns, not grandmas or children). I again realized I was not incognito when after my cast was removed, I walked through a government building area in Nairobi and a guard that I didn’t recognize, but had apparently conversed with, yelled jokingly after me, “Don’t hit any more people!” I garnered a few stares from passerby’s and smiled very gently at them.
Now, I am living in the Kenyan countryside in an area that few white people frequent. As I make my six kilometer trek from the main road to the farm, children and adults alike run from their homes, abandon their cows, and stop their work to stare as I pass by. I greet each and every one with a “habari yako” or “what’s the news” to which they give the standard reply of “nzuri” or “fine” but stand with a look of astonishment. School children run after me in groups, and when I greet them they literally somersault on the ground in peels of laughter. I have barely opened my mouth in public in a week, but my physical presence is speaking volumes. Incognito, I think not.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)