Rat Scratch Fever DooDoo-Doo-Doo

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

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

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

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

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