Cheetah Man

Kenyan Transportation/Farewell

2007-08-27T12:35:00.000-07:00

I am sad to say that it is time for the finale de blogo de Cheetah Man. This won't be as glorious as I had originally planned, given that I got my camera stolen two weeks ago. No safari pics of lions mating, and no badass shots of me dominating the class 5 rapids of the Nile River in Uganda. I am actually really upset about that one because I know none of you actually believe I did that without solid proof. Anyways, enjoy what I have left.

Kenyan Transportation

1. Took Took- (lost picture with camera) basically a motorcycle with a carriage on the back

2. Boda Boda- (lost picture with camera) bicycle taxi. Boda Boda drivers, who I lazily refer to as Bodae, are pretty funny dudes. The funniest thing about them is that they are grown men riding around on bikes with pink puffy seat cushions on the back, and outrageous wheel spoke accessories that would make Pee Wee Herman cry in jealousy.

3. Matatu- Let me try to give you a glimpse into the ridiculous world of the matatu business. Kenya doesn't have a public transportation system, so here it is all private business. Where Philly has SEPTA, Kenya has matatus, bodae, and took tooks. And since most Kenyans can't afford the automobile, transportation is a highly lucrative/fiercely competitive business.

I have lived in both urban and rural sections of this beautiful country, and no place is safe from the wrath of the matatu. In Nairobi, matatus jam pack the streets all hours of the day, causing much stress for everyone. Yet, I believe the matatus in the countryside cause much more chaos, given that there is only one paved road (I use the term "paved" lightly. By "paved", I mean "not mud").

The word matatu is swahili for "decrepid old van used as a taxi."

Matatu Driver' Job Description:
- Operating matatu at highest possible speed at all times
- Barely dodging large potholes and small children
- Running Bodae of the road
- Honking horn every couple seconds for no reason at all
- In case of a horn malfunction, rolling down the window and cursing in your native tribal speak is both accepted and highly encouraged
- (Only in rural Kenya) Ending your work day at sundown to avoid being robbed and murdered by the bandits who lay on the side of the road at night waiting to pillage

But the matatu driver is not alone. He has a henchmen in the back, collecting money from the passengers. His job title is called the matatu conductor, as in "hey let's CONDUCT an experiment to see how many Kenyans we can fit into a (expletive) van!"

Matatu Conductor's Job Description:
- Wearing a maroon vest and pants
- Hanging out the open sliding door at 90 km per hour, holding on with one hand
- Paying off the corrput Kenyan police when they see his matatu is carrying triple the amount of people allowed in a vehicle by law
- Being unnecessarily loud and obnoxious
- Finding muzungus at matatu stops any getting them into the matatu by using any means possible (pleading, begging, grabbing/pulling)
- Once muzungus are in the matatu, rippping them off as much as humanly possible

If you consider yourself a fan of personal space, then you will absolutely rue the day you ever step foot on a matatu. The most people I have shared a matatu is 23. This ride included 3 people hanging out the sliding glass door, grown men lying across people's laps, and the child and the chicken of the lady sitting next to me placed securely on each one of my legs. Other favorite rides include one matatu driver being so drunk that he fell asleep at one of the stops, the drunk passenger who was simultaneously hanging out the sliding door and asking me why Americans think Kenyans are so stupid, and the time some lady's chicken was going so insane that the lady decided it would be best for everyone in the matatu if she ripped its head off. So that's what she did.

Here's a few shots of some gansta ish

But above of the bling.....

Praise the good Lord

4. Peugeots

This section of the blog is dedicated to self-proclaimed Chatam Park Dunkball legend Brian Kane, who has put up with my silly antics for too damn long. The symbol of integrity

For the lucky few in this country who are able to afford an autombile in this country, the brand of choices are limited. But if you want a car with the best combination of class, style, and power, there is only one choice my friend: the Peugeot. I am not positive, but the I studied French at the prestigious Penn State-Delaware County campus, and I believe the word Peugeot is French for "the greatest car of all time, ever."

Ok, so the last two sentences were complete lies. But it's true, Peugeots are very popular here. I took a bus to downtown Nairobi after landing at the airport, and I remember seeing a huge sign with a Peugeot emblem on it. At the time, I didn't know if I was actually seeing the sign for a Peugeot dealership, or was just hallucinating from jet lag and lack of sleep after spending a full day on a plane.

The reason I am writing about this brand of car is because I spent much time in high school riding in one. My old friend Brian Kane used to own a blueish- grey Peugeot station wagon. This car represented a rich history of dudes who went to my high school and drove horrendous automobiles: DiJulia's "Boardmobile", Bruno's "Blue Bomber", Sir Richard F. Crowley's "Battle Wagon", Lesovitz's poop-brown Dodge Aries that didn't even deserve a nickname, etc. Kane traded his cousin two McDonald's cheeseburgers for "The Peuge." Not even kidding.

I have no idea where or how his cousin acquired The Peuge. My guess is he lost a bet. I can still remember asking Kane for the first time where his cousin got that awful car from, and he replied with something like: "well my friend, it was a cold day, and there was a terrible storm approaching on the horizon. The sky was black and the winds were howling. Then suddenly, the clouds opened up and out of nowhere, the hands of God came down from the sky and gently placed The Peuge in front of my cousin's house." Not even kidding.

The truth is, God would've wanted nothing to do with this vehicle. I actually just looked up the word Peugeot in the French dictionary, and it is translated as "mobile dumpster." I used to make Kane happy by agreeing with him that The Peuge looked great, and the ladies really dug it. I would also act like I believed him when he would tell me there was no need to stop at the gas station when you are in the Peuge, because The Peuge only ran on love. Not even kidding.

In all honesty, I will always have much love for The Peuge. I was just saying all of those mean things because when Kane reads this, he will be very upset and angry, and that in of itslef will bring me great joy. The truth is, I have so many great memories of riding in the Peuge, most of which involve throwing trash/eggs/snowballs at people, yelling at the elderly, and terrorizing all of Fairmount Park.

Arguably The Peuge's most glorious moment came when Kane cheated death one morning on the drive into school. The daily no-holds-barred race to school usually started at the Mann Music Center at 52nd and Parkside, and by "started" I mean "turned from friendly little race into a life-threatening competition." I used to get rides in from all different kids to school, but one thing was constant among all the drivers: whenever they saw the Peuge in their rearview mirror, they would curse Kane under their breath and then say a silent prayer, because they knew they were going to go through hell if they were going to beat the Peuge to school.

So one morning, there was about a ten car race up concourse to Girard Avenue. I was in Bruno's supremely haggard "Blue Bomber", which looked and ran like it got caught in one too many acid-rain storms. We were waiting under the Girard Bridge at the light across the street from the Philly Zoo, waiting to turn left onto Girard Ave. I remember Bruno saying that he could care less about winning, he just wanted to beat The Peuge. But Kane had different plans. Sitting in last place and desperate to win, Kane gunned it when the light turned green and went the wrong way through the Girard Ave Bridge underpass, looking like Gene Hackman in "The French Connection," and survived without a scratch to The Peuge. It's still to this day one of the most ridiculous things I have ever seen. So cheers Bri-Guy, and long live The Peuge.

Look at that beautiful baby

This is a nice picture of Brian Kane's most-favorite automobile and least-favorite person

Farewell

Alright folks, my days of blogging are now officially over. Ending this blog talking about Peugeouts and making fun of Brian Kane has truly been a dream come true. I compare the feeling to how John Elway felt when he retired right after winning two consecutive super bowls. I would continue to keep the blog going, but I doubt anyone really wants to see pics of me eating Jano's pizza until I get sick and going around Baltimore picking fights with Ravens fans.

I hope you have enjoyed the pics I have put on the blog. Kenya and its people make even a novice photographer like myself take some classic shots. Some of the stuff I have seen in the past 8 months has been literally mind-blowing. Half of this country's residents live under the poverty line. That's 16 million people in one country alone. After doing the work I have done since coming to Kenya, going back to work a desk job just doesnt appeal to me. I think I have found the profession I want to pursue. You guessed it: competitive bodybuilder/freelance romance novelist.

But I am going to use this last paragraph to actually say something serious for the first time on this blog full of silly pictures and unfunny comments. I recommend that, at some point in your lives, you travel to Africa and see how people live here. It will definitely make you think differently about your situation. Americans have a lot to learn from Kenyans, mostly in regards to what really matters in life, and where true happiness should be derived from. Take care of yourselves, look out for one another, and always remember:

"It's in the shelter of each other that people live"

--Irish proverb (thanks Kerry)

Street Boys

2007-08-12T03:21:00.000-07:00

Before I start my next blog, I want to let you all know that I am actually coming home early. You can call it a case of the Ole Homesick Blues. No, that's a lie, I just want to be home in time to see the Phillies not make the playoffs. When I get back to the States, I'm going to finish out my year of service at the SND national office in Baltimore, helping with the new group of volunteers, and hopefully doing some work in inner city Baltimore. I actually just got my camera stolen yesterday (sorry mom), so I don't know how many more blog posts I am going to do. I am hoping at least two: Kenyan transportation and Safari. I'll do my best.

Street Boys
It is an unfortunate truth that there are many, many kids in Nairobi who are living on their own. They literally have nothing. Many of them don't have any family, in most causes due to abandonment or losing their entire family to the AIDS virus. The ones that do have family come from situations so bad that living on the street seems like the better option. Nairobi has many progrtams to help the street kids, but the need is so high that only tiny percentage of kids actually get help.

The kids in these next few pictures are part of the VIP project in South B, which is a program of the Mukuru Slum Development Project, that serves street youth by giving them a place to live in the slums, 3 meals a day, and guidance. Their lving conditions aren't the greatest, with 15 kids living in a two room house, a house made of tin an cardboard. But these kids are very happy to be off the street and being cared for. My roomate Helena works there, and she literally spends all day and night with these kids.

Kevin and Peter, striking a pose.

That's my roomate Helena. She hails from glorious Slovakia

Me and the crew

This next group of pictures are of kids from Mary Immacculate Rehabilitation Center in South B. It is run by the Sisters of Mercy and gives the kids housing, food, and a good education. Two of my Irish roomates were working there, so i went down on my free time to help out, most of the time playing permanent goalie during one of the heated 40 kid, every-kid-for-himself soccer match.

Did I ever mention that Kenyans love football? Here's proof. Samuel here turned his school shirt into a football jersey. The name on his shirt sayd DROGBA, in reference to Didier Drogba, the Ivory Coast-born striker on Chelsea.

Lunch time

Time for shamelss promotions. My man Jimmy is holding an Earthtone sticker. Earthtone is a band based out of Annapolis, Maryland. I saw their show in this past New Year's Eve and it was awesome. I told one of the the dudes in the band that I was leaving for Africa in three days and I will get him a cool picture with the sticker. I am a man of my word. I actually had some really awesome group shots with the sticker, but I didn't realize until after that the kids were holding the sticker upside down.

That shirt reads Jano's Pizzeria, Drexel Hill. Pa. the number is 610-259-4316. I can't recommend this place enough.It is the only place I have ever been to where no matter what you order, it is the greatest thingh you've ever eaten.

Micheal, Allan, Mostio, Me, Ephraim, and Paul

They all wanted pictures with my hat on. Needless to say, they were quite shocked when I took my hat off.

This is Brian. He is volunteer from Australia who came over for the summer months. He is teaching the kids Tai Chi

Kevin

This is Dan the Man. He was doing wrestling impressions so I decided to take a pic. Here is doing his best "Stone Cold" Steve Austin impression, sans a Budwesier pounder in each hand

Here's Allan trying to wipe the dirt off my chin. I spend a lot of the time there just letting kids touch my arms and hair

Here are some kids from St. Katharine primary school, which is connected to Mary Immaculate

A couple of students and a homeless guy in a brown hat

Ice Skating/Best of Fan Mail Pt.II/ Swahili Lessons

2007-07-26T08:56:00.000-07:00

Ice skating
So they have an ice skating rink in Nairobi. My Irish roomates were making plans to go, so I decided to join them. Stepping on the ice felt very weird. I haven't been ice skating since probably grade school. I haven't even been in an ice skating arena since I got kicked out of the last Bonner-O'Hara game I went to at the Skatium.

The crew: Tressa, Elaine, Ashleigh, Brian Boitano, and Lisa

Nothing flashy, just showing the ladies some skills.

This is a technique I mastered as a youngin. It's called "eating ice"

This pic here is of Tressa making fun of me for having to use Mr. Happy-Penguin-Ice Skating-Helper

Best of Fanmail pt.II

I now bring you some more excerpts from my favorite emails

1) "How long is your hair? Do you still wear sunscreen? If you got the movies, did you watch 300 yet? If so, did you think it was as incredibly badass as I did? If so, did you think the part when he kicks the dude down the hole was the most badass of all?"

-- Laura Murphy, Annunuciation basketball "B team" lifer

(long enough to be gross, no more sunscreen, I watched 300, it's incredibly badass, and I love it when the king kicks the Persian messenger down the hole. And I officially apologize for the "B team" shout out)

2) "."

-- John Kiely

(still no word from Kiely)

3) "Who is this??"

-- John Kiely, when I called him on Memorial Day to reprimand him for having yet to email me

4) "So I just saw that movie The Last King of Scotland. Anyway, the dictator tells the Scottish guy that Africans find red hair "disgusting." The nerve of thes people! We are unique Keller, we are not freaks. 60 year old women would kill for my hair, and their husbands want to commit adultery with me. Don't let it get ya down."

--Meg "Peg the Chicken Leg" Carrol

(Thanks for the support Meg. But while you hair is indeed the lovliest, I have to admit, my 6 month old quasi-mullet actually is quite disgusting)

5) "Keller, my adventurous-Kenyan-formerboozebuddy-nowpeoplehelper-hotredheaded-friend, I am obsessed with your blog. You almost inspired me to start a blog, but then I remembered that I got my digital camera stolen."

--The beautiful Virginia Genevieve Reardon

6) "I need to get myself a little shanty shack of my own like the beautiful one you came across. Question: do you now refer to yourself as Keller the cheetah shackman? Because I do."

--Chatam Park Dunkball Demi-God Brian Kane

(No Kane, I don't refer to myself as Keller the cheetah shackman. There is something about self-proclaimed nicknames that I find very cheesy. Dudes who give themselves nicknames are the same type of dudes who have web logs. Oh wait....)

7) "Do you have some sort of email address? I know, I know.......first mud hut on the right, 30 paces north of the watering hole, some village, Africa?"

--Havertown all-star Stephanie Campetti

(Your boyfriend TJ has my address, he sends me love letters on a monthly basis)

8) "I love that blog title man."

--Steven W. Shea: Man of the People/Social Work Extraordinaire/One Hell of a Model American

9) "Hey is this the email address where we can make fun of Andrew Murray and get it posted online?"

--Kevan "Baby Mullet" Iffrig

(This is indeed that email address. Spread the word)

10) "That Steve Shea guy sounds like a real class individual; on the other hand, that Andrew Murray kid sounds like a real loser."

--anyone who has read my blog that doesn't know Steve Shea or Murrdawg

(I couldn't agree more)

11) "Shea, what a great guy. Murray what a loser."

--anyone who has read my blog that knows both Shea and the Murrdiggitron

(once again, I couldn't agree more)

12) "Just writing you this letter to inform you that I was reading an article in Time magazine and I came across this essay about the Kibera slum in Nairobi. It talks about a 5'11, 160 pound redhaired demon with brown spots all over it that terrorizes the slum. I was actually thinking of doing some service after college like you, because you are my idol. Actually no, David Hasselhoff is my idol, but you are a close second. Actually no, it's David Hasselhoff and then Roseanne, but you're by every means a close third."

--Jimmy Byrne

(Hey that's really funny Jimmy. You should just bag college and hit the road as a stand up comic. Hey remember when we were younger and I used to make you eat dirt and then beat you up until you cried? Man, those were the days)

13) "P.S. Always remember the wise words of Patrick Swayze, 'Nobody puts baby in the corner.'"

--Pat McKeever

(Speaking of Patrick Swayze, if anyone wants to see McKeever's impression of Swayze's dance number from Dirty Dancing, go to the Ocean Drive in Sea Isle on any Saturday afternoon for happy hour and look for a pathetic loser either dancing by him self or grinding with Sean Heenan)

14) "Iowa pretty much sucks. But things could be worse, I could be LIVING IN AFRICA." --Mike Albert Frank

(thanks for the support Mikey boy)

15) "Guess what? Everyone still goes down to Sea Isle and acts like drunken idiots. It's like, 'hey guys you wanna relax with a few beers?' 'Nah, we'd rather drink until someone pukes, then throw McStravog through a plate glass window.' Ahh to be 17.... ooo wait we're 24."

--Delaware County Rock Icon Matt Johnsen

(I see Sea Isle hasn't changed a bit)

16) "I read your blog and was trying to think of something funny to write so you would put it up and people would be like, "I saw what you wrote on Keller's blog, that was really funny." And I would be like, "YEA THAT WAS FUNNY."

--Kevan "Baby Mullet" Iffrig

(2 shoutouts on one blog post? Consider yourself famous Brospeh)

17) "Yo Keller,

Schlegel told me about the blog this weekend so I wanted to toss you an email and see how you are doing. The blog has been hilarious and I can't wait to keep reading about your exploits in Kenya. Hopefully as an athletic instructor your doing your best Kevin Bacon and showing the trademark Jimmy Doolan Shake and Bake move that revolutionized the game in rural Africa. In the mean time, I thought I would fill you in on some happenings back home

1.The shore is pretty decent. Leo Muldoon is still dominating the happy hour scene, but without the random Keller and T. Nowlan sightings, Sea Isle just isn't living up to last year

2. They opened a McGillicuddy's in Manayunk. We go randomly on Thursday nights. They sell alrge bottles of Golden Monkey--which you need to remember for my next point......

3. Hepp and I found out that when Dijulia drinks and you remind him of wetting the bed, he will wet the bed 99% of the time. Needless to say, when we are out and John drinks, we will most certainly bring it up. This fact has led to him wetting Kelly's bed close to 15 times so far in 2007. Various Friday morning text messages include:

"April Showers bring May flowers, but Thursday nights bring Bed Showers"

and

"It's pouring outside now. It was raining in Kelly's bed last night at about 4am"

4. Hepp still looks great when reminding John he wets the bed....

5. Mayhew is moving to Boston for work and to go to BC for grad school. This led him to commit the idea of completely changing who he is. When in Boston, he will no longer be called Patrick, but will go by the name 'Boston Rick'. He will wear sunglasses, regardless the time of day. He will run marathons and do charity work--or at least tell people he does. He said that we can only visit if we refer to him as 'Boston Rick', so noody has any idea of his previous life.

6. McKeever loves to dance in Sea Isle.....especially by himself. He looks like an idiot

7. Finally, Keith has almost been arrested twice in Sea Isle in the month of July. First, for fighting bouncers at the Springfield after they wouldn't let him bring his drink into the bathroom (a long standing rule at the Springfield that has never been a problem before). Second, for kicking flowers off a grave by the Sea Isle library. Both times my roomates looked at him with unmatched disdain.

Seriously though, what you are doing over there is awesome. I wish I had the guts to do something like that. We're all proud of you back here. keep up the good work and keep living the dream."

--Tim "Shags" O'Shaughnesy

(That email was so good I had to put it all on. Shags, tell "Boston Rick" he will always be the third biggest slob of all-time, right behind Quinn and McCafferty)

Swahili Lesson

Here are some Swahili phrases that I have used regularly since coming to Kenya

1) Swahili: Jina langu ni Brian

Translation: "My name is Brian."

(I tell anyone I meet that my name is Brian. Most Kenyans don't know Ryan, so they either call me Brian or Riel. So I chose Brian)

2) Swahili:Ninatoka Marekani, lakini hakuna, si jui 50 Cent. Ndiyo, Ninapena Obama.

Translation: "I am from America, but no, I do not know 50 Cent. Yes, I like Obama.

(When I tell people that I am from the US, the first two questions usually asked is if I personally know 50 Cent, and if I am going to vote for Democratic candidate Barrack Obama, whose father is a member of the celebrated Luo tribe of Kenya)

3) Swahili: Polle sana, Si na pesa

Translation: "I am very sorry, I have no money."

(most often-used phrase)

4) Swahili: Mimi ni mwananchi Kenya. Si taki bei ya mtallee

Translation: "I am a resdient of Kenya. I don't want tourist price."

(This is used when I am trying to buy something and the vendor is trying to rip me off because

he thinks I am a Muzungu tourist)

5) Swahili: Tafadhali usinisumbue

Translation: "Please stop bothering me."

(I say this to that one guy who is hassling me no matter where I go. There is alwasy someone with something to say. You'd be suprised how many times it has worked. Usually the guy stops making fun of me because he is speechless at the fact that someone who looks like me can actually speak swahili)

6) Swahili: Usiogope!

Translation: "Do not be afraid!"

(second most-used phrase. I say this one to all the young children that I have made run away crying at the sight of my red quasi-mullet, which at this point has to number in the tens of thousands)

7) Swahili: Wewe ni mzuri sana, lakini mimi ni priest

Translation: "You are very beautiful, but I am a priest."

(I say this to the Kenyan girls who try to flirt with me when we go out. It's much nicer and easier than saying "polle sana, si na pesa")

8) Swahili: Hapana asante buana, niko sawa

Translation: "No thank you sir, I am ok"

(this phrase is used when I get asked, "Hey white man, you want to buy some Bob Marley cigarettes?")

9) Swahili: Mimi ni Peter Crouch

Translation: "I am Peter Crouch."

(Peter Crouch plays football for English Premier League powerhouse Liverpool. He is tall, gangly, lanky, oafy, and squirrelly. And every Kenyan thinks that i am him, so i tell them what they want to hear)

10) Swahili: John Kiely hawana warafiki

Translation: "John Kiely doesn't have friends"

(pretty self-explanatory)

11) Swahili: Rafiki yangu, Tommy Nowlan, hawapendi kuoga

Translation: "My friend, Tommy Nowlan, doesn't like to take showers."

(Ok, I don't really say this one that often, but it's definitely true)

And before I go.......

Happy Birthday Mom.

I love ya and I miss you very much

Steven W. Shea: Man of the People/ Social Work Extraordinaire/ One Hell of a Model American

2007-07-12T04:46:00.000-07:00

So I found out in late March that my buddy Steve Shea was coming to town for the whole month of June. He sent me an email first telling me that he reads my blog, and that it's the greatest website in the history of man. Nothing new, I get emails like that on the daily. But then he informed me that he was coming to Africa and wasn't leaving until we met up. Needless to say, I was pretty excited. It's been a while since I have seen someone I knew, especially someone as classy as Steven W. Shea.

I have known Steve for a couple of years now. He went to Fairfield University with my old friend, St. Denis Bulldawg football deity Adam Hepp. Steve is also an Avalon regular, hanging out with some of society's finest: John Paul "Boards" DiJulia, B. Mallon, Pat "the mayor" Nowlan, Hammy, and Matt "Nelson Mandela" Mullin. He even used to work at PJ Ryan's with all-star bartender Drew Zuccarini. He also knows Brian Kane, but they aren't really friends, mostly because Kane doesn't have any friends. (I am finished with the shameless shout-outs)

Steve is now taking classes atUPenn, where he is studying to receive degrees in both social work and non-profit leadership. He came to Kenya with a program that was funded and supervised by professors from the University of North Carolina. There were about 25 people in the group, most of whom either had social work backgrounds, or were in the middle of their studies. The purpose of the trip was to see how social work is applied somewhere outside the United States. The group got to experience what life is like for millions of Kenyans who live in inhumane conditions. They visited NGO's and non-profits that aimed to help street kids, slum dwellers, people suffering with HIV/AIDS, and those living in abstract poverty.

Along with the great work they saw being done, the group also took a trip to the coast for two days to see the Indian Ocean, and went on safari for a whole weekend. Steve's days were busy until about 7:30 pm every night, so I would usually meet up with him and a couple of kids from his group afterwards to hang out. And on Steve's free days, we did our best to see as much of Nairobi as we possibly could. We went to the Massai Market to get harrased by street vendors, and went to the elephant orphanage and the giraffe sanctuary. I let him sit in on one of my first classes as a teacher, and he let me crash on the floor of his room at the Hilton (fair trade). We even went out to a few clubs for cocktails and danced like only us unhip, uncool white boys can (to the horror of every Kenyan present).

After Steve's trip ended on the last week of June, he hopped on a bus and took a 13-hour ride to Kumpala, the capital city of Uganda, our neighbor to the west. He met up with another Fairfield alumnus named Tim Savage, who is volunteering with the Peace Corps. I actually met Tim at Hepp's graduation party, and we had a good conversation discussing our plans for the mother land. And then later that night, we were hanging out in the backyard, Mike Mailey fell out of a folding chair, which was probably the highlight of my summer.

So the last part of that paragraph was a little off the subject, but seeing a 230 pound beast fall backwards out of a chair is just too good not to mention.

Moving along. So when I labeled Steve as a social work extraordinaire, I wasn't exaggerating. For a term project at school, Steve helped set up the Kids' Zone Mentorship Program, which was designed to give tutoring, counseling, and mentoring to underprivelidged youth growing up in Germantown, Mt. Airy, West Oak Lane, and other poverty-stricken/violence-ridden areas of Philly. A couple of days after Steve gets back to the States, he is moving to NYC to intern for the Arthur Ashe Foundation. In addition, Steve is also an mentor/sponsor at the Gesu School in north Philly, which sits right next to my old high school, St. Joe's Prep. Small world. Gesu is the first school I ever tutored at.

The Man of the People in deep thought. Here he is trying to comprehend just how good a football player Adam Hepp was in grade school

Steve Shea and Ryan Keller: arguably the most dominant tandem of all time

Here are pictures from the David Sheldrick elephant orphanage. The David Sheldrick Wildlfe Trust is an NGO that rescues baby elephants whose parents have been killed either by poachers or disease. The site is open to visitors from 11 am- noon everyday, for feeding time.

The stampede

That bottle was done in about ten seconds

Later enormous tree branch

I tried to think of something interesting to write about this pic. I couldn't think of anything. This is me touching an elephant's butt.

After visiting the orphanage, I came to the conclusion that no matter what species of life you belong to, if you live in Kenya, you play soccer.

Here are some pics from the Nairobi Giraffe Center:

Unreal

This giraffe is actually 27,000 ft tall

Ridiculous

My look of shock comes from both the size of the giraffe's head and the fact that I was about to feed a giraffe. I was scared it was going to eat my arm

Giraffe tongues are black, slimy, and smelly. But you'd be suprised how good they taste (see below).

Shea getting taunted by a mammoth beast

The kiss of death.
It's funny to think that this guy's profession involves showing visitors how to properly feed giraffes from their mouths. He must get tongued by a giraffe at least 25 times a day.Talk about working hard for the money.

Goin in for the kill

glorious

This is me trying to pretend I didn't love it

This is me showing Shea the ancient Kenyan ritual of drinking beer. Actually that's a lie. That's me trying to get the taste of giraffe tongue out of my mouth

Two happy nerds (side note: Shea grew that beard in 8 hours)

So June turned out to be easily the best month in Kenya so far. Steve got to go on Safari, ride the rapids down the Nile River, and got to see both the Indian Ocean and Uganda, our neighbor to the west. I got to see the first familiar face in 6 months, and Steve got to experience the craziness that is life in Nairobi, Kenya. Cheers Stevey boy, come back soon. And tell Sherwood I said hello.

Apologies/ Help Sudan/ Kwaheri Malava/ Jambo Nairobi/ Life as an Inadequate Athletics Instructor/ New Crib

2007-06-21T07:19:00.000-07:00

Rkeller31@yahoo.com
Let me know how much you like the blog/how funny and cool I am/ how much you want to be like me

Apologies
Dear friends,
I sincerely apologize for my lack of blogging as of late. It has been a long while since my last post. My deepest apologies go out to those who are genuinely madat me. I have received many hate emails from former fans of KellerinKenya. blogspot.com, who have vowed never to read another post in protest of my careless, irresponsible, non-blogging ways. Many of the hate emails were from people who severely hate their jobs. These people have been telling me that seeing pictures of me in Kenya makes their work day just a little less miserable. One reader even told me that the Rat Scratch Fever post changed his life. Actually, that's a complete lie. But that be hilarious if it were true.

Save Darfur
Before you go any further, do yourself a favor and check out savedarfur.org, and click on the link that lets you write an email to Dubya telling him that the situation in southern Sudan is out of control, and that the time to act is now. I will try to sum up what has been going on there for a few years in a couple of sentences:

Basically a couple years ago, there were two major rebel army groups who were gaining power and were about to challenge the government. To suppress the rebel uprising, the president hired militis called Janjaweeds, and ordered them to go after any person who shared the same tribal background as the rebels. So basically the Janjaweed has been raping, torturing, and killing anyone they have come in contact with. Hundreds of thousands have been murdered, milllions have been displaced from their homes, either fleeing the country or being put in refugee camps, where International Aid workers have been denied teh chance to help in fear of attacks from the militias.

And tell anyone you keep in touch with to go to this site as well. It takes a few minutes tops. I figured since the only people who read this website are my mom, my sisters, and my old tap dance instructor, we can probably get 15-20 signatures.

(Thanks to Delaware County rock legend Matt Johnson for the link to that site)

Kwaheri Malava/Jambo Nairobi
Anyways, I have a good excuse for why I haven't posted in a while. I actually moved out of Malava. I asked the Sisters if could possibly move to Nairobi, with the hopes of finding my own ministry to volunteer for, and they agreed. I left Malava a few days later for the capital city. I slept on Sandy and Arielle's couch for about 2 weeks, spending most of my time taking showers with running water and studying swahili, then finally found a place in a section of the city called South B. I am staying at NGO's volunteer guest house. So I went from living without running water and good electrcity, to living on a couch/out of a suitcase, to living in a house with running water, electricity, and even television (Kenyan television= awful Kenyan sitcoms and rap videos).

The NGO is called the DKA Support Group, and they actually ran our orientation for the first week that I was in Nairobi. It's hard to explain how many people this organization helps. One of their largest projects, the MSDP (Mukuru Slum Development Project), consists of multiple programs to help the residents of the Mukuru slums. They provide art projects/soccer leagues for the street kids, counseling for people who are HIV positive, and economic empowering projects, giving out loans to help people try to start a business venture (selling produce, clothing, etc). I am help working with MUSA, the Mukuru Sports Association, which basically means I get to play soccer every afternoon.

And in the mornings, I am working at St. Mary's Secondary School, which is located in the Kingston section of the Mukuru slum. I am teaching form 3 (high school juniors) English. The first day was very intimidating, to say the least. I asked that for my first day, I could just sit in class and watch how the teacher conducted his lesson. Unfortunately, like most schools in slum areas, St. Mary's is severely underfunded, and the forty kids in the classroom share 7 text books. That's right: 40 kids, 7 textbooks. So after class, I asked the principal if I could bring in some of my own reading material for the class, and base my lesson around that. He thought it was a great idea, so I went downtown, got online, and printed out 40 copies of the bio of Wayne Rooney, one of the best soccer players in the world.

The kids loved it. I even got 15 good vocab words out of the bio, and they will be quizzed on their definitions next week. So after the first lesson, I let the kids decide who they wanted to read about next. Some suggestions from the students:
-Akon
-Nas
-Ludacris
-Beyonce
-Celine Dion*****
-50 Cent
-Snoop Dog
-UB40*****
-Tupac
-Rihanna

(*****=For some reason that is way beyond my realm of understanding, artist is extremely popular among Kenya's youth, which is simultaneously ridiculous/hilarious)

It was unanimous: Tupac Shakur will the subject of our next lesson. It should be a good time. The kids are great, and I am hoping that it will be a fun semester. The only thing that I am not looking forward to is when, if at all, more textbooks come in and I have to try and teach these kids about transitive verbs, predicate adjectives, and indirect objects.

Here are some good shots I have of life in Malava. I have to admit, I have already started miss the place. It is an absolutely beautiful village. Rural life is very laid back and easy, and I grew accustomed to the simple lifestyle. Life in Nairobi is basically the opposite of life in Malava. The most noticeable differences, besides the option of showering, is the sights. The people of western Kenya are extremely poor, but they live on acres of farmland, growing their crops, and they have nice little huts, and their nice, chill lifestyle. You wouldn't notice the abstract poverty without working directly with the villagers for an extended period of time.

In Nairobi, however, the poverty is unbelievably blatant: the pollution, the overcrowdedness, the street kids/homeless people everywhere on the streets/the milllions of people forced to live in the horrific conditions of the slums. Walking around Nairobi is quite the experience. I feel blessed that I am getting the chance to experience both the rural life and the urban life of Kenya.

I'll shut up now. Enjoy the view.

This is Samuel. He is the night security guard at the St. Julie Center. His job is to sit in a shack next to the Center from 6pm-6am every night. Interesting fact about Samuel: he has multiple wives. I heard he's looking for another, so if any of you ladies back home are interested, I'll put in a good word.

One of Malava's busiest intersections

Cows doing what they do best: hangin out (that tree is damn cool)

My neighbor's hut

Father and son herding cattle

Take your idea of what a dive bar is and throw it out the window. Then again, that's if you consider this a bar. It's basically a shack made of mud, manure, and wood, that has a guy sitting in a corner selling beer

Dusk in Malava was always a sight to behold

Life as an inadequate athletics instructor

I have been getting many requests to post some shots of my glory days as assistatant basketabll coach at Malava Boys Secondary School. I remember talking about how we didn't have a basketball net to play with, so we just played keep away every day. To everyone's suprise, the school put a net up a couple of weeks before the final tournament in Kakamega. We didn't make to the provincial torunament, because we placed 6th in Kakamega, and only the top 4 teams make it. But the season was a blast. The students at Malava Boys were some of the coolest kids I have ever met.

This is actually a pic of a bunch of students. Malava Boys hosted track and field events one Saturday morning, so I went over to support the squad.

This Bolton, Jack, Mikey, Walter, and two kids from the field hockey team.

Very cool shot taken by one of my players

This is the head coach Abner making a weird face

One thing that I felt was necessary for the guys to learn is tap drills. It's when you have two lines, one line on each side of the rim. The first guy, standing right under the basket, throws the ball off his side of the backboard and runs to the back of the line, so the guy behind him can catch the ball in mid air and do the same. Sounds pretty easy right? I wish I had this on video. Basketballs were flying over fences, into trees, and even hitting volleyball players on the field next to us in the face. To maintain some type of order, Abner and I decided that the person responsible for messing up the tap drill was required to do ten push ups

This is me starting tap drills. See that ball flying in the distance behind the basket? Yea, lots of push ups were handed out that day

This me laughing because I messed up the tap drill and had to do ten push ups. I was laughing to hide the deep fear that I wouldnt be able to do ten push ups

This is me about to buckle after push up number 3. The kid to the right of me is named "fat". He was the self-proclaimed "fatest kid in all of Kenya." Fat actually told me that when he finishes secondary school, he is moving to New Orleans to live with his uncle, and is going to see if he can make it as a competitive eater.

Alan striking a pose

Chesoli just realizing that he's going to have to do ten push ups.

This is me generously sharing my vast knowledge of basketball with one of the youngins. The kids knew I was the real deal the second I stepped onto the court (court= patch of dirt and rocks). Any time I spoke, they listened intently, knowing how profound every word that came out of my mouth was.

Me: "you see, Kelion, the key to a balanced offensive attack consists of two things: motion and spacing. If all of the offensive players are standing around in the same area, it will be easy for the defense to take control. But if all five players are spread out and moving the ball quickly, the defense will be caught off guard, giving us chances for open shots and even lay ups."

Kelion: "your hair is disgusting."

(awkward silence)

Me: "Give me 5,000 push ups."

New Crib

Ok, so that whole thing about living in the DKA house was just a hoax. I just wanted my mom to think I had a nice, safe place to live while in Nairobi. I actually got a new place by myself. Given that I'm a man with style and class, and I wanted my house to exude those qulaities. The price is irrelevant. What I want, I get. The landlord thought he was going to boss me around and give me a MUZUNGU price, but I said "EH BUANA, SI TAKI (Hey Mister, I don't want) MUZUNGU PRICE!" AFter that line, he knew I meant business. I got a good deal shortly afterwards. Check out the new estate

Kuku/ Webuye Falls/ Rescue Dada

2007-05-22T07:13:00.000-07:00

Kukus
Ok so this pic is of me holding the first two kukus (swahili for chickens) that we had as pets. I know it looks like I am holding a mutated two-headed kuku, but there are definitely two kukus there, they are just tied together. The one on the right was named Henjamin Franklin, and the one on the left was named Punky Rooster.
Unfortunately, we no longer have either kuku. Henjamin died a horrible death with an intestinal infection, at least that's what Maurice told us she had. Everyone took this pretty hard, but especially Punky. He was lonely without his lady friend. A few days after the funeral, Punky mysteriously vanished, and by "vanished" I mean "became dinner for the neighbors who live behind us." (seriously, our neighbors stole him and ate him).

Webuye Falls

Arielle came down to Malava with her sister and cousin, who were visiting from the states. She wanted to show them where we work, and also the beauty of western province. Webuye is a tiny village about 15 kilometers north of Malava, and supposedly there is a spot where they have great waterfalls. We found them after a forty minute walk from the bus stop

This shot is great. Rain season in western province is crazy. Rain can literally be pouring on your right shoulder, while the left side of your face is getting roasted by the hot sun

Me and Ar

Rescue Dada
The ST. Julie Center was closed for two weeks so the head therapists could go on home visits, so I decided to head to Nairobi. I had the pleasure of visiting Sandy and Arielle where they work. It is called Rescue Dada and is a center that helps girls from the streets/slums. Fortunately for me, I visited on field day, so I thought I was going to be able to show the youngins some of my football skills. I was way off.

Here I am being very upset because it was totally my turn to punt the ball and that selfish little brat stole it from me

This is me completely lacking in ball-handling skills and using the strong-arm technique on a 13 year-old girl to cheat my way to victory

The shot is was taken literally one second before I fell over and started crying. (side note:did anyone notice the girl in the background doing the Monty Python high step?)

Sandy getting a piggy-back ride

Arielle and one of her babies

Coolest girls ever

Rescue Dada

Here I am struggling to pick up a 40-pound girl

For this shot, Arielle told me to pick one of the girls up, but this time don't make a stupid face. I wasn't listening

Home Visits

2007-05-04T01:07:00.000-07:00

So Tim and I have had the privilege of being invited as guests to the homes of some of our friends. It is an amazing experience to see how many Kenyans live.

The first home we visited belonged to Maurice. The place where I stay is on the local catholic church grounds, so the pastor, Fr. Paul, is my landlord, and Maurice is one of his handymen. Maurice is a great guy and is always willing to help me and Tim with anything. He invited to his home in the village of Shitoli, and we happily accepted. He lives pretty far away, on the other side of Kakamega, so we went early on a Sunday.

The second home we visited belonged to a fellow co-worker named Tom. He runs the farm at the St. Julie Center, and also works on the farm at the Sisters' house. He lives in a village called Misungu, which when pronounced sounds exactly like MUZUNGU, which I hear every time I leave the house, because it means "white man" (for example: "Hey muzungu, your red hair is scaring my child. Please go away so I can tell her that the devil has left"). Anyways, the village isn't too far from Malava, probably 15 kilometers at the most.

I don't know if I have explained this already, but Kenya's western province is mostly rural, so there are only a few paved roads in the ENTIRE province. I happen to live right off one. The roads don't have names, they just take the name of the big towns they pass by, so I live on Kakamega-Eldoret Road. Now, even when you are travelling down a paved road, you hardly see anything. Every couple of kilometers you will pass a row of stores in one of the bigger villages like Kakunga, Shamalamala, or even good ole Malava. As you might expect, the area gets unbelievably secluded when you travel off one of the paved roads. We call anywhere off the main road "inside" or "the interior". Before coming to Kenya, I thought Pottstown was the middle of nowhere. I was wrong.

Tom's house is about 10 kilometers inside, which compared to other villages isn't that far. Maurice's place was pretty deep though. His lives about 30 kilometers down "the road", then 15 kilometers inside, then when you reach a fork in the path, you go left and proceed another 10 kilometers.

The cool thing about the interior is that everything is so scenic. Everywhere you turn, there is an amazing landscape. I am lucky enough to have mountains, valleys, rivers and streams, etc. all within walking distance from where I stay. Another cool thing about the interior is seeing people LOSE THEIR MINDS when they see some freakish looking red-haired muzungu walking by their hut and talking to them in Swahili. I mean, I get stares and funny looks in Nairobi, one of the largest and most modern cities in all of Africa. You wouldn't believe the reactions I get from people who live 30 kilometers away from the nearest electrical line.

Both visits were a blast. We got to walk around and see a decent amount of both Shitoli and Misungu. Both men have great families, and live in huts on large farms that they share with their brothers. I couldn't help but laugh at the fact that I was sitting in a hut drinking beer and eating freshly slaughtered chicken, while live chickens ran around the hut while we ate. Most of the day involved walking around and playing with the kids

This pic was taken on the walk to Maurice's house. Rural Kenya is beautiful

Last night's dirty dishes and tomorrow night's dinner

Next week's dinner. Don't cry, I am just kidding. Maurice has guard dogs to protect his family and farm at night, and they had some pups

Here's a pic of me with Maurice's (from left) neighbor, mother, brother, Maurice himself, wife, and children. It's probably hard to spot me in the picture. I am in the back row, second-in on the right

Me and the kids

This is one of the coolest things I have seen since coming to Africa. On the walk back to the main road from Maurice's home, we heard what sounded like a drum circle in the distance. Maurice knew exactly what it was and decided that it was something Tim and I had to see. ANy idea what these kids are doing?????

The answer is collecting termites. Kenyans uses termites for food, because they are great sources of protein. So what these kids do to collect termites is first dig holes in the ground. Then they sit around and bang on the ground with sticks, and every so often pour water down the holes, giving the termites the impression that it's raining outside. This makes the termites come up from the ground, and they kids catch them and sell them at the market. Very very cool.

Trying out the local delicacy

I got the feeling that me eating one of their termites made their day

Tom and Tim on our walk through the village of Misungu

Here's a girl I met in the village. I told her before I leave Kenya, this muzungu will come back to Misungu and give her this picture.

Tom's cousin, daughter, and wife

Tom's brother and nephew, workin hard

And here are Tom's nieces and nephews:

"Remember when you were young? You shone like the sun."

-Pink Floyd

Vacation

2007-04-21T03:19:00.000-07:00

So for Easter, the staff of the St. Julie Center had off on Good Friday and the next Monday. That’s a four day weekend right there. And the following weekend, the volunteers were meeting in Nairobi for a two-day retreat. We figured this would be the best time to take a vacation, so we decided on Mombasa. I was praying Mombasa was going to be a good time, because this meant Tim and I would be taking a 9-hour bus ride to Nairobi then immediately getting on another 9-hour bus ride from Nairobi to Mombasa.

Mombasa is the third largest city in all of Kenya. It is a port city that sits on the Indian Ocean. It’s origin dates back to the 16th Century, when it was ruled by the Portugese. You can’t really see the influence though, because after the Portugese were ousted, the Arabs took over. This you can see. The city is almost entirely Muslim (you literally can’t walk 10 feet without seeing a mosque). For as nice as it is, it’s very cluttered and very hot, not unlike Nairobi, so we decided to go elsewhere.

We took a bus north from Mombasa about two hours, and landed in a tiny village called Watamu. Watamu is Swahili for “sweet”, and sweet it was. White beaches and clear water: all I need. Watamu is a resort town that hosts many European vacationers, but mostly Italians. It is funny to walk down a street in Kenya and see signs for authentic pasta and fresh gelato. It is also funny to walk by a group of Kenyan kids who all scream “Chao” at you. What isn’t funny is seeing fat old Italian men wearing speedos and fanny packs. That almost ruined my vacation.

We stayed in a little guest house for five days at an unbelievably good price (each of us paid less than 20 bucks). We went snorkeling, sight seeing, and visited the Gede Ruins. Gede Ruins is a 12th Century Swahili village that was mysteriously abandoned some 600 years ago due to unknown causes. It is now a National Museum, and the ruins are heavily overgrown with indigenous forest trees. Supposedly there is no record of this area ever existing. It was just found deep in the forest by accident. Pretty cool

To be honest, it was weird to see so many Muzungus. I have been accustomed to be one of the only Muzungus in a 30 kilometer radius. It was also weird how we were treated. This tiny village depends solely on tourism, so the people there are extra nice to you. So we didn’t have to worry about our safety, which was a first since I have come to Kenya. And since we know a little bit of Swahili, the people were extra cool to us. Overall it was a great time. I basically just bummed around for an entire week, and loved every second of it.

I forgot to mention that I am now officially a resident of Kenya. My work permit passed right before the trip, which was perfect because I now get a discount on many things that tourists have to pay full price for. Ok enough with the small talk, enjoy the pics

Here are some pics I took on the bus ride from Nairobi to Mombasa

Tiny village with mountains in the background

These people are sitting at their "Kiosks", which are stands that they sell their produce from

No matter where you go in Kenya, you cannot escape extreme poverty

Gede Ruins

The Great Mosque of Gede

So on the way out of the ruins, we saw this sign. We took the sign's advice and decided not to feed any monkeys we saw. Instead, if we saw any, we were going to break up some bread and throw it at them, just to see what they would do

Silly monkeys

Mama monkey and her baby

Here is a shot of me with two members of the celebrasated Masaii tribe. Although, I am highly skeptical of the authenticity. Members of Masaii are nomadic people who base thier lives around cattle, to the point that one of their favorite cocktails is a mixture of milk and cow blood. You really wouldn't find Masaii hanging out on the main street of a resort town. Another giveaway: I saw the guy on the right wearing a Hulk Hogan shirt and doing "the worm" at the dance contest at the local club the night after this pic was taken

And these next shots answer why Watamu is a great spot for vacation

In closing:

- Two horrendous 18-hour bus rides (Kakamega to Mombasa and back):
3,000 shillings
(That’s my “somebody just kill me and end my misery” face)

-Resident entrace fee to the Gede Ruins:

100 Shillings

-Resdient fee for snorkeling:

1,000 Shillings

-One bottle of aloe gel for my mangled foot:

150 shillings

(result of severe sunburn and kicking the coral reef while snorkeling)

-Seeing fat old Italian men in speedos :

Permanent mental scarring

(pic was too explicit for this family-oriented website)

-Jumping off the roof of a boat named "Ali-Baba" into the Inidan Ocean:

Priceless

Rat Scratch Fever DooDoo-Doo-Doo

2007-03-31T04:45:00.000-07:00

Like I mentioned before in the FAQ section of my blog, the place I stay in has somehwat of a rat problem. Actually, the term "epidemic" seems a better fit. I live on the grounds of the local Catholic church, and the parishioner stores his maize in the building that is connencted to my kitchen (my kitchen is in a building that is across the courtyard from my front door). This is the main reason for all of the rats. The walkway from my house to the kitchen has a tin roof hanging over it, and the rain gutters on the roof are basically just rat highways. They can creep into my place with ease. And a nother very uncool thing about the gutters is that we collect rain water for washing, cleaning, and most importantly, drinking. And some rats don't make it across the highway, and lie in the gutters for long periods of time.

So most of the time, we actually don't see the rats, we just hear them. They are above us running around in the attic, and they are in the walls, scratching and making that horrible squeal that only rats can make. It doesn't help that they are nocturnal. If you ever have have the displeasure of waking up in the middle of the night for whatever reason, the herd of rats running across the attic floor makes it very hard to get back to sleep.

But sometimes, on those days where you wish you were never born, you get up close and personal with these horrific rodents. Like the one time after dinner one night, when I opened up the cupboard in the kitchen, and a rat jumped out from one of the top shelves, and grazed my leg in mid-flight. Now before this happened, I thought, "I deal with rats living inside the walls of my house. Seeing one run by me won't scare me." I was way off. When I felt that rat touch my leg, I screamed like a little girl and ran out of the kitchen faster that I have ever ran before.

We chased the sucker around the kitchen for a while, under the fridge, behind the cupboard, and then we finally had it cornered behind the oven. Finally. But for some reason, we could not find it. As ajoke, I told Tim to open the oven door, and he did. The rat was sitting in the oven. What a sight. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Needless to say, the oven has been out of commission since. I'll probably never understand how that rat got on the third shelf of the cupboard.

Good thing for Tim and I, there is a product sold at the Malava Agro-Vet called STORM. In my opinion, it is man's greatest achievement. I hold it in such a regard that I feel every letter in the product's name should be capitalized. STORM is a little blue ball of rat poison that makes rats thirsty when they eat it, so they leave the house to go find water. Unfortunately, some don't make it to far (the pics that I put up are the ones that I felt wouldn't make people sick. Remember people, this is a family-oriented blog).

This pic is great. It was taken on one of our first days in Malava. Tim saw this nest in a corner of the building where our kitchen is. He decided that he didn't want bees bothering us, so he decided to wack it down with a broom handle. So he gives it a wack, and what pops out, but 6 baby rats, who fall to their death, which was absolutely fabulous. Turns out it was a bird's nest, and the rats ate the bird eggs and took over the nest.

This is what we found on our front steps one morning. First official STORM victim of the new year

Found this guy in the water bucket we use to filter for DRINKING. STORM made the rat so thirsty, that it decided it would rather drown in a big bucket of water than go on being that thirsty.

Glorious Vacation

A couple of weeks ago, I had the great pleasure of spending the weekend in the city of Kisumu. It is the third largest city in all of Africa, and is only two hours from my village. It sits on Lake Victoria, which is the second largest fresh water lake in the world. The city itself is very cool, and has a very westernized feel to it. The reason I went was to meet up with two of my fellow volunteers, Sandy and Arielle, who are teaching in Nairobi. I spent all of Friday night and dancing like a complete idiot with a bunch of german ex-pats who we met where we were staying. Everybody wa having a good time until I asked one of the German guys to show me is David Haselhoff tatoo.

Moving along to the next day: This is Evans. At first he tried to charge us 800 shillings each for the boat ride. You can't blame him for trying to burn a group of muzungus, everyone tries to do it. Then I kindly explained to him that we weren't tourists, but residents of this fine country. I also told him that I have been to Kenyan weddings that have cost less. We ended up going for 600 altogether. Evans turned out to be a great navigator and a really nice guy.

The lovely ladies of Notre Dame Mission Volunteer Organization. On the left is Sandy, and to the right is Arielle.

Sandy let me borrow her scarf for neck protection. She said I looked like I was about to start melting.

Hyacinth covers much of the lake during certain parts of the year, which really hurts business for fisherman and people who give boat tours

The pics of the Lake don't do it ANY justice. It is unbelievable.

yea that's right, hippos baby

Craziness. They were so close to the boat

It looks like the hippo is smiling for the camera. It's a fact that Hippos cause more deaths in Africa each year than any other animal. I never understood this because I was always taught that they were herbivores. And I was right (like always). Most of the deaths are caused when the hippos tip the boat over, and God know what happens to the people after that. Yea so after this last shot, we decided it was our time to go haha.

Even Evans got scared at this point. The hippo was heading towards us. It was our time to move on. A great time was had by all on Lake Victoria. Kisumu is glorious

Apologies

2007-03-10T00:46:00.000-08:00

OK friends, for those who don't actually know, I am not living in a hut, and I am sorry to disappoint. I told people I was going to, because I thought that was the case. I didn't find out until my orientation that I was living in a brick home with burgular bars on every window. It is actually a tiny house, a house that has no running water and loses electricity for hours after every time it rains (which is very often). The kitchen is separate from the house, and one of the first nights we moved in we left the kitchen door unlocked, and the stove was stolen. I then realized it would be way to dangerous for me stay here if I actually had to live in a hut.

There will be no pictures on this entry because my computer is already broken. I have no idea what is wrong with it, but I will try to get it fixed as soon as possible. Also, I am sorry for not updating my blog that often. I have been very busy over here, which is actually pretty nice because time can move very slowly in rural Africa if you have nothing to do.

Anyways, so I am the assistant basketball for a local high school called Malava Boys. It’s the first year of their basketball, so it’s pretty funny to see the kids play. I don’t coach as much as just play with the guys, and hang out with them, telling them stories about how I used to hang out with 50 Cent in high school and used to work at McDonald's with Snoop Dog. The school has a dirt field as the court, there are no baskets, and the guys either play in sandals or bare feet. So basically we just run around with a ball. I compare it to the game “keep away” for grown ups. And at the end of every single practice, I remind the guys that they are by far the greatest basketball team I have ever seen that practiced without baskets.

This first entry is about a Sister of Notre Dame named Sr. Dorothy Stang. People have been sending me many compliments telling me how nice it is for me to be doing this volunteer work. But my efforts pale in comparison to the nuns that I work for. These women have literally dedicated their entire existences on helping the less fortunate. When I hear a seventy-year old woman tell me how she was almost murdered by rebels in 1960 while volunteering in the Republic of Congo, it makes me understand the true definition of the term "sacrifice". All I can do is marvel at how fascinating these women are. Each and every one of them has stories that will blow your mind, but none hold a candle to Sr. Dorothy. I hope you enjoy it (FYI: I didn't write this. It's my adaptation of a newsletter I read about her).

Sister Dorothy Stang was a very ordinary person. She was born into a family of nine in Dayton, Ohio. Inspired by the deep faith of her parents and by her teachers at Julienne High School, she entered the Sisters of Notre Dame at the age of 17. On her entrance application she said she wanted to be a missionary to China. Unfortunately, by the time she was out of the novitiate, the Sisters of Notre Dame had been expelled from China.

Early in her teaching career, Sister Dororthy was missioned to Arizona where she spent weekdays in the classroom and weekends in the camps of migrant farmers and their families. It was here that her heart was touched by the poverty and the injustice that she saw. Her heart was expanded with a missionary fervor that remained with her for the rest of her life.

Sister Dorothy's great desire to be a missionary was fulfilled when she was sent to Brazil. Her catechetical work there brought her directly in contact with the families of peasant farmers. She identified with them immediately. She lived as they lived-in houses made of saplings with thatch roofs and dirt floors. She ate rice and beans every day. She totally gave up even the most rudimentary vestiges of what we call the good life.

All this sounds bleak to those who are the 18% of the world's population who use 80% of the world's resources. Yet in spite of the apparent bareness of Sister Dorothy's life, she was truly a happy person. Her only possessions were the beauty of the people and the beauty of nature, yet she was vibrantly happy.

What does that say about what is essential for happiness?

In the 1980s, the Brazilian government offered the farmers plots of land deep in the forest. Of course the farmers went. This offer gave them some kind of hope of a future for themselves and their families. Sister Dorothy went with them. It was here that she grew in her love for the forest. She herself learned and then taught the farmers the skills of sustainable farming, methods of growing crops that do not destroy the forest. Most important, she brought them together to build faith communities.

But very soon she and her people experienced the effects of global trade and corporate agriculture. Large soy and cattle farmers, greedy for the profits of a global market, began to take the land of those who would not sell. This is the land where small farmers had built their houses, planted their crops, and were raising their families. There were threats of violence, murder. In Para state alone, between 1985 and 2005, there were more than 500 murders over land disputes. Fewer than 10 of these ever came to trial. It was a situation of violence and murder with impunity. The homes and crops of the small farmers were burned and the farmers had to move deeper into the forest where the whole cycle started again.

This was Sister Dorothy's challenge: to stand with the farmers in their struggle for human rights and to protect the forest from mass destruction. Already 20% of the forest had been destroyed. The logging and burning of this forest is turning land that was once called the lungs of the world into a significant producer of carbon dioxide.

And so Sister Dorothy, in her work with the powerless, made enemies among the powerful. There was a price on her head, but this didn't deter her. "I do not want to flee, nor to abandon the battle of the farmers who live without any protection in the forest. I know they want to kill me, but I will not go away. My place is here alongside these people who are constantly humiliated by people who consider themselves powerful."

In February 2005, she went to the village of Esperanca, deep in the Amazon. She brought food and clothing to families that had been burned out. They were scared for their lives, hiding deep in the forest. She had called a meeting of the villagers on February 12 so they could strengthen one another and rebuild.

As she walked on her way to the meeting, two men stepped out of the forest. She recognized them as pistolieros, paid killers, who had been bragging that they were going to murder her. One of the men said to her "your work here is done Sister". They talked for a bit, she invited them to the meeting and started to walk away. One of the men called her name.

As she turned, she saw the pistol in his hand. She reached into her bag. He asked, "are you reaching for your weapon?" Sister Dorothy responded, "this is my weapon." She raised her bible. Before she was finished reading the Beatitudes, the pistoliero fired the first shot. He then stood over her and emptied his gun into her back and head.

On February 12, after over 40 years of service in Brazil, Sister Dorothy Stang was murded. But her death was not in vein. She was now a martyr, because both her life and death made a difference. We too can make a difference. At her funeral, one of the nuns cried out, "we are not burying Sister Dorothy. We are planting her and she will bring forth the fruit of justice and hope."

May her life and death expand our hearts so that we too can find ways to bring forth the fruit of justice and hope for ALL people.

And on a lighter note, I now bring to you:

BEST OF FAN MAIL
Here are some of my favorite excerpts from emails I have received from my fans from all across the globe.

“You’re not missing anything over here, just fat people and overpriced everything”
--Caitlin Berry

"If I were you, I would come back and lecture everybody from my moral high horse"
--Matt Johnson

"Yo dude, you still alive?"
--James Coyne
(side note: that was the entire email)

"Hey Ryan, I think what you are doing over in Africa is VERY NIIIIIIIICE. I hope you have GREAT SUCCESS!"
--Borat
(side note: email contained a picture of Borat giving the thumbs up)
(side note: email from Borat was actually Tom Nowlan)

" ."
--John Kiely
(side note: John Kiely has not sent me one email yet)

"Holy (Expletive) Keller"
--Meg "Peg the Chicken Leg" Carroll
(side note: that was the title of the email she sent to me)

"I guess that Diarrhea Cha Cha Cha joke just isn't that funny anymore"
--Mike Mailey, in reference to me telling how most Kenyans lack healthcare and access to clean water, and can die from simple diseases like diarrhea

"Hey big guy, I am rooting for YOU in Kenya"
--Jeff Garcia
(side note: email contained picture of Jeff Garcia with his shirt off)
(side note: email from Jeff Garcia was actually Tom Nowlan)

"Bumblebee Tuna"
--Adam Hepp

"I think your blog is great. Every other blog I ever see is some hipster nerd from Philly critiquing awful music: 'the new album out by Clap Your Hands And Say Yeah is like my latte and my hat--hot and to the side'"
--Matt Johnson

"That is sweet you are the new basketball coach. Does anyone have game? If you break someone's ankles, do they retire because of lack of healthcare?"
--Dan Logue

"He looks exactly like Garth from Wayne's World. People actually just call him Garth."
--Tricia Brophy, telling me about one her students

“Is there an address where I can send you some good eats? (To be honest, I probably won’t send you anything because I am lazy and selfish. Just curious ya know)”
--Andrew Murray aka “Murrdawg”

"Yo dude, if any of them Kenyans try to mess with you, just tell em 'I got two rules: don't touch me, and don't touch me'"
--Brad from Real World San Diego
(side note: email from Brad from Real World San Diego was actually Tom Nowlan)

"I hope you've been taking your malaria pill"
--Nora Keller, on every email and every call

"Ryan, I just read your blog, and realized that I am love with you. Come on home soon. We can make it work"
--Charlize Theron
(side note: email was actually from Charlize Theron)

“People are like, Yo dude, did you see Keller shout you a holla? And I’m all like yea, nothing out of the ordinary, I did some work for him awhile back, nothing flashy. We’re just like a couple of big wave surfers from Maui when we kick it: just catchin a hang”
--Pat Nowlan

"I heard that the Kibera Slums are almost as ghetto as Thursday nights at Barnaby's"
--Christopher "Bruno" Mongiello

“I mean come on, look at the knowledge you already gained since you while you were there. If you could come back here and incorporate the first wive’s hut into American culture, they may push Lincoln out of that big ass chair and put a statue of you in it. I would be most grateful, as would all the other guys paying rent on a mistress’ condo when they could just build a mud hut”
--Kevin Clement

"Well, at least you won't stand out as a gluttonous, imperialist American with your lanky frame. But my God, with that red hair, you might as well wear a shirt that reads I LOVE NEW YORK AND I POOP ON ALLAH"
--Brian Kane

AND LAST BUT CERTAINLY NOT LEAST:

“I love you man and am really truly proud of what you are doing. And I know I sound like a (Expletive) (Expletive) saying that, and I will punch you in the ear if you ever tell anyone I said that, so don't even think about it you red-headed freckled freak.”
--Andrew Murray aka “Murrdawg” aka “Megaphone” aka “Murdiggets"

So I tried to post "Best Of Fan Mail" earlier in the week, and once again I was having trouble with the blog site. I don't know why I always have so much trouble with it, but I think it might have something to do with Blogger.com being the official website of Lucifer. Anyways, so I wrote this blog for two hours, and went to post it, and it just erased on me. I was feeling quite perturbed, so I read some emails to calm me down. And luckily I read the new email from Murrdawg, because this post wouldn't have been complete without that last quote. Talk about a blessing in disguise. Thank you Blogger.com for being the worst run website of all time.

PS I love you too Murrdawg

2007-02-15T22:22:00.000-08:00

Some Interesting Facts/Insights About Kenya
-Became free from British rule in 1963

-Population: approx 30,000,000

-These shots were taken on the bus ride from Nairobi to Malava. It’s acres and acres of tea fields. Along with sugar cane, tea is Kenya’s top export

-Kenya’s currency is the shilling. 1 US dollar is equal to about 70 shillings. About 60% of all Kenyans live on less than 2 dollars a day.

-The school system desperately needs to be fixed. Primary school is 1-8. Secondary school is what we call high school, and only a minute percentage of primary school graduates are admitted to secondary school. And for some odd reason, secondary school costs a fortune, so many kids who are admitted can’t even afford to go. Of the ones who don’t get the chance to go to secondary school, those who are lucky enough to find jobs will work. The others either hang out and do nothing, or turn to the streets.

-Healthcare is pretty much nonexistent

-Kenya has a Parliament and a President. The President can only give his cabinet positions to an MP (Member of Parliament). Also, Kenya’s MPs are the highest paid MP’s in the world. This fact is ridiculous because the Kenyan government is so corrupt that not only do that get paid well legally, they are also making tons of money with bribes.

-Right before the millennium, the International Monetary Fund stopped lending money to Kenya, partly because corruption had been so blatant that it was holding back the nation’s economy

-My boss explained to me that the corruption in Government has much to do people’s loyalty to their tribes. So instead of choosing someone qualified for a position, someone in power would rather just give that position to a friend from their native tribe or family member, with less qualification and (more often than not) intentions to help themselves and not the people of Kenya

-2007 is actually an election year. I was informed to stay away from anything that deals with politics. It is not uncommon for political rallies to end some kind of violence, and sometimes full fledged riots. Kenyans take politics very seriously. I assume this is because they want to believe that there is someone who can help stop the corruption and violence, and set up decent health care and education systems, therefore giving the citizens of Kenya the chance to live with dignity.

-Small towns like Malava are not immune to the AIDS epidemic, and because of the struggling economy and job market, prostitution is a problem no matter where you are in Kenya. The current life expectancy rate of a Kenyan citizen is only 47 years of age. In the 1990’s, the life expectancy rate was 57 years of age. This is drastic drop is directly related to AIDS .

I REPEAT: THE LIFE EXPECTANCY RATE FOR EACH CITIZEN HAS DROPPED 10 YEARS IN THE PAST DECADE BECAUSE OF THE AIDS EPIDEMIC.

Slum Life Dawg

2007-02-11T02:55:00.001-08:00

Slum visits

So during my orientation in Nairobi, we were taken to two different slum neighborhoods. I haven’t traveled to many places around the world, but I can confidently say that trying to survive in the slums of Nairobi has got to be as tough as gets. There is no clean water, therefore simple diseases that we spoiled scoff at can actually be fatal. There are no bathrooms. The people use trash bags, and when they are done, they throw the trash down by the river. The stench of the slums can be best described as a mixture between raw sewage and rotting flesh. The “houses” are just big pieces of tin held together by nails. Disease, murder, rape, starvation, child neglect/abuse, drug addiction: they are all prevalent.

       These people are basically the poorest of the poor. Most have come to the big city with dreams of honest work, decent pay, and a better life for them and their families. Unfortunately, they come to find no resources whatsoever, and no place to stay, so they resort to slum life. I mentioned in my first email that people can just buy some tin and build a house in the slums to live, but this is not the case. Actually, slum residents pay almost just as much as people living in “middle class” sections. How is this possible? Because many of the landlords are very powerful people who own and rent out multiple slum houses, making huge profits off the poor. The landlords will pay off government officials not to pass laws to either lower rent prices or help the conditions in the slums, giving people no choice but to pay high rent to live in filth. So the rich get richer and the poor get poorer. Seeing how people in the slums live makes it hard to ignore the fact that corruption is the root of MUCH IF NOT ALL of the suffering that Kenyan people endure.

       For both tours, we went to visit primary schools that are located inside the slums. I compare each school to an oasis for the kids to get away from their surroundings for a few hours of the day. Our first trip was to the Kibera slum. Kibera is arguably the biggest slum in all of Africa. There is another slum in Johannesburg, South Africa, that might be a little bit bigger, but there’s just no way to tell how many people actually reside in slums slums. There are approximately 900,000 – 1,000,000 residents in Kibera.

       If any of you have ever seen the movie “The Constant Gardener”, Kibera is where Tessa (the main female character) spends her time trying to help some of the locals. There is a big set of freight train tracks shown in the movie that run through the middle of the slum, and I’ve walked on those tracks. And whenever the young kids see a Muzungu, they scream “how are you?” because English is Kenya’s second language, and is taught in primary school. Next time you watch the movie and the scene is taking place in the slums, you can randomly hear “hey Muzungu” and “how are you?”

This guy

Cat and some friends

Kids go crazy fro muzungus, and they go especially crazy for Muzungus with cameras

The school actually has a really nice outside basketball court, which absolutely perfect for the kids to play SOCCER on (I have noticed that soccer is the most popular sport among Kenyans, with WWE wrestling coming in a close second). There are about 4 different soccer matches going on during this shot. Notice the kids don’t play with an actual soccer ball, just a bunch of plastic bags rolled up and duct taped.

These pics were taken from the 2nd floor library of the primary school we were visiting in the slums.

This is a shot of people walking along the train tracks that are featured in the move “The Constant Gardener”

What you see in these pics is only a tiny section of the slum. From this spot, Kibera stretches farther than the eye can see in every direction

Later in the week, we visited a smaller slum called Mukuru. Mukuru is located about two blocks where I stayed for my orientation, in a section of Nairobi called South B.

This is the road the leads into the slums

A row of homes in the slums

hey dude

Tim took this shot. He stayed behind the group to get some photos. The girl being held is crying at the sight of me

Notice the trash and cestpools of stagnant water

Did I mention that kids love Muzungus with cameras? I'll call this shot "the calm before the storm"

And now: "the storm"
Here is The 4 Stages of Mukuru Primary School kids' reactions to seeing a Muzungu at their institution

Stage 1: excitement/awe
(DC Shoes? Skate or Die, Broseph)

Stage 2: Joy/Euphoria

Stage 3: Mayhem

Stage 4: full-fledged riot

Look how calm the storm gets when the headmaster (principal) joins us on our tour of the school haha

And here is the best pic I have so far

Jambo

2007-01-25T06:52:00.000-08:00

Jambo rafikis!
and thank you for stopping by. I was actually deadset on NOT having one of those cheesy blog websites that all the hip kids have these days. I made a valiant effort to stay blog-free with the yahoo mass email, but failed because:

1) Safari.com, one of Kenya’s main internet sources, charges me per minute AND per gigabyte downloaded on the internet, which would leave me almost broke

2) I still don’t know how to properly send emails (some people didn’t get my first email, while others got 17 copies of it)

3) I am just way too important and too high-profile of a guy to deal with silly mass email letters.

So here I am with my cheesy blog website. In my first email that SOME of you received, I gave you the web address of my fellow volunteer, Tim Constantino. Well, I’m thinking that my blog is going to be just like his, just with more grammar and spelling mistakes, and silly comments under some of my pictures. And way more refererences to Jesus, like this one:

This me singing a song I just recently wrote. It's called "I professed my love to the Lord, and I all I got was this lousy hat"

Frequently Asked Questions (from first mass email)
1) Keller, what does “Muzungu” mean?
A Muzungu (mu-zoon-goo) is basically just a white person. I hear this term every time I step out of the house. It’s kind of funny in a way. For example, I walked by a group of school kids the other day, and the one says “Hey Muzungu, Why is your nose SO SHARP?” Without even giving me a chance to reply, the entire group of kids fell on the ground laughing uncontrollably. At that point I decided that if getting yelled at and made fun of in public is my contribution to help others less fortunate than me, so be it.

2) Keller, what do you do in your free time?
I like to read a little bit. I brought my guitar over so I’ll have plenty of time to practice that. If anyone has any guitar tabs for any good songs, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE send them my way. . And we buy bootleg DVDs in Kakamega to watch on our computers. These bootlegs are way better than the ones we used t get at 52nd and Market n high school. Many of th DVD's here have 9 movies on one DVD. I just got the Pauly Shore collection the other day with Son-In-Law, Jury Duty, and Encino Man on the same DVD. The vendor actually paid me to take it

3) Keller, why is your humor so bizarre?
I sometimes ask myself the same thing. Being a Muzungu in Kenya is not easy. For safety reasons, I am not allowed out after dark. Being inside so for hours on end can make time go by very slow. Pauly Shore movies can only do so much. So my humor basically comes from being delirious with boredom. But in all honesty, the main reason my humor is so bizarre is because I was infected with Malaria the first day I got to Kenya, so by now it has probably spread to my brain.

4) Keller, I heard there are rats living in your walls. Is this true?
Yes indeed my friend, there ARE rats living in the walls of the house I am staying in. And rats are nocturnal animals, so sometimes when I am trying to sleep, I can hear a big group of rats running around above me, which makes it hard to fall back asleep. But I heard that rats are deterred by awful guitar playing, so I’m doing as much of that as possible when I am awake and not at work. We are also getting a product called STORM, which is a rat poison that makes rats thirsty, so they leave the house and die gruesome horrible deaths on the front lawn and in the back yard. I’ll be sure to post pics of the carnage

5) Keller, would you consider Pat Nowlan your “boy”?
Dude’s my boy

6) Keller, who is your hero, your inspiration? Who is it that makes you want to be a better person? Who is that makes you want to go out and be somebody?
Pat McKeever

7) Keller, why are you so damn cool?
I guess some things are just better left unsaid

IMPORTANT
Before continuing I need to do two things:

1) I apologize to my mom in advance for anything that I might post that might make her nervous about my safety. Mom, my red hair horrifies even the toughest Kenyan street boys, so no need to worry

2) I plead to my immature friends not to write anything bad on the “comments” section of this site. Some young kids and some family will check out this site from time to time, along with the millions of my adoring fans from across the globe. So if you want to harass me, please do so via email

Program
Notre Dame Mission Volunteers is a program set up by the Sisters of the Notre Dame De Namur. In the United States, NDMV is partnered with the Americorps, and is represented by hundreds of volunteers all over the country. Yet the international program is basically brand new. NDMV sent two volunteers overseas to Malava, Kenya for the very first time last year. This year there are 6 volunteers going to three different locations

-Malava, Kenya

-Nairobi, Kenya

-Lima, Peru

From Left: Sissy Corr SND (executive director of NDMV and overall classy individual), Arielle (Nairobi), Tim (Malava), Katherine (Lima), Me (Malava), Kathleen (Lima), and Sandra (Nairobi).

Orientation
I first arrived in Nairobi, the capital city of

Kenya

, and stayed for 11 days. During my stay, I had a 6-day orientation that was run by DKA, a non profit organization that is based in Nairobi. Our orientation leader happened to be the one of the two girls that served in Malava, Kenya last year. Her name is Cat, and she (along with her friend Cindy) was part of the first NDMV international program. My orientation consisted of Swahili lessons, trips to all different parts of Nairobi, including the City Center (which we Americans call downtown) and different slum neighborhoods, and multiple lectures about Kenyan culture and safety/protection. Here are some pics of the City Center.

National Archive Building

Nakumatt Supermarket

The Cathedral

One entire day was actually spent at Rescue Dada, where Sandy and Arielle will be volunteering all year. It was a geat experience, and not just because we got to skip out on our daily two-hour Swahili lesson. Rescue Dada (swahili for "rescue daughter"), a program run by DKA, finds young girls on the streets (or in other dire situations) and gives them 3 meals a day, a place to live, and a quality education. It’s an amazing program. The girls went insane when we showed up, basically because 4 muzungus actually wanted to spend time with them. It was great experience, and I can’t wait to go back when I return to Nairobi.

Here is my roomate Tim, with some of the girls from Rescue Dada

After Nairobi was finished, we made the trip to Malava by Akamba (bus). Since we got to see where the girls worked in Nairobi, they came to Malava to see where we were going to work for the next year. The place is called the St. Julie Center, and it is a therapy center for physically/mentally handicapped kids

Here is the St. Julie Center. I'll write a blog about work once I get some more pictures

I knew that leaving the comfort of the States for a new way of life was going to be a tough transition. Coming to Kenya was a tough transition. Staying in the capital city of Nairobi was a tough transition. Then it was time for Malava and boy was I in for a some culture shock.

Malava, Kenya
The small village I am spending my year of service in is a quaint little town called Malava. It is located in the Western Province of Kenya. Kenya is bordered by Tanzania, Ethiopia, Uganda, and the lovely and peaceful countries of Somalia and Sudan. Malava is about an 8-10 hour bus ride from Nairobi, the capital city of Kenya. The nearest city to Malava is called Kakamega, which is about a half hour mutatu (minivan used as a bus)ride away. About two hours away is the city of Kisumu, which is a beautiful city that sits on Lake Victoria, the second largest lake in the world. You can actually see Lake Victoria from outer space (side note: to be honest I have never been to outer space, so let’s just hope my orientation leader wasn’t lying).

Some interesting facts and insights about Malava:
-The town just got electricity LAST YEAR

-Approx 95% of the residents don’t have electricity

-I am almost certain that most residents have NEVER ONCE encountered a human being with red hair and freckles. This is based solely on te residets' reactions to seeing me

-Some adults have assumed that because my roommate Tim has black hair, he is from either Italy or India, and because I have red hair, I am from either Switzerland or Norway

-Malava has one paved road. It is the road that leads to Kakamega, Kisumu, etc. The rest are dirt roads that travel DEEP into the bush of rural Kenya.

-The main means of public transportation (for the ones lucky enough to afford it) within Malava is a Boda Boda, which is a man riding a bicycle with a comfy seat on the back for the customer. The main means from Malava to other towns is Mutatu (minivan).

-The kids are taught English in school, so they know some. But given that it’s a rural area, many of the parents weren’t properly educated and don’t know a word of English

-Many Malavans use their tribal speak as their main language, not Swahili. They all understand and speak Swahili, but don’t use it too often. So here in Malava, some people speak Luhya first, then Swahili and some scattered English.

-After the initial shock of having a Muzungu living and working among them, the residents of Malava are really nice and welcoming people

- Here is a replica of the huts that many Malavans reside in. Some have brick houses, but it is expensive for them to make brick, so many go hut-style. It's hard to see, but the sign says “1^stwife’s hut” because yes, many tribes still practice polygamy.

So on the last day of my orientation, we went to Kisumu and had lunch at a resort called Kiboko Bay (Kiboko is Swahili for Hippopotamus). The resort was located on a part of Lake Victoria called Hippo Point, and we ate lunch poolside, and looked out for Hippos, but found none. But I plan on spending many vacation days there, so I’ll post some Hippo pics as soon as I get some.

This is the view from where we ate at the Kiboko (Hippo) Bay Resort in Kisumu.

Another Great View