It has been a very long time since I wrote, too long to actually count. While this is not an excuse, I have been sick and the sickness lasted several weeks. Apparently the bacteria from the food poisoning experience was regal and traveled first class to my bladder where it caused a very painful infection. Since I am cheap, I opted for the generic antibiotic which I thought would be the end to the infection. Nope, generic antibiotics - this one is not sold in Europe or the States - do not stop infections. So Saturday night at 2am I made my first visit to Nairobi hospital with a dear friend. As in any hospital when you arrive you must check in and fill out paperwork. Given the pain, I had no patience for paperwork and the hospital clerk agreed to expedite the process as long as I paid the entrance fee. After I was to visit the same damn clerk at least 5 more times to pay for things from needles, tests, pills, fluid to clean the IV, and for speaking to a doctor. Imagine how much simpler it would be if they could consolidate all the fees onto one bill? Such rationale though is a waste of time here.
As soon as the lovely round nurse with a little white cap came over and said she wanted to give me a shot of pain reliever on my body where I have the most choma (meat), i.e. my butt, I began to have hope. 3 days later of IV antibiotics and several miss IV entries (my hands became purple and green patties) I began to feel better.Throw some more antibiotics and things got even more better. BUT the good bacteria were also wiped out. So when I ate some salad at the vegetarian buffet at the church across from my office, I had a spectacular display of vomit for my co-workers in the entrance to our office floor. Yes indeed Kenya kicked my butt the whole month of March 2011. That's alright, I'm armed for April.
Sunday, April 10, 2011
Saturday, March 26, 2011
Day 31 and 32
Food poisoning extravaganza. Today was international women's day and I jokingly suggested that our finance controller should take me and the other women staffer - the finance assistant - out to lunch. Instead of going to the vegetarian buffet run by the church across the street, we took the company taxi to a chicken joint. The roasted chicken hacked into pieces was served over oily fries and deep fried boiled eggs and onions. All of the food was cold. Like a true winner, I ate a bit of everything. An hour later I was sweating and several hours later I was in the bathroom where I spent the entire night. The cramping that ensued was incredibly painful and lasted a few days, partially because I was try to cure myself naturally. Yeah, no, I learned that is a waste of time and dumb. Here in East Africa you take the meds.
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Day Twenty 29 and 30
You know how sometimes after a weekend at the beach, you feel more exhausted than before you got there? That was where I was at Monday morning struggling to do a market analysis of the other big NGOs operating in Somalia. The goal was to find out the different programmatic approaches other NGOs are doing in Somalia and what if anything could the organization I'm working for try to incorporate into their mandate.Prior to making such a recommendation, it is necessary to know my organization;s capacity to expand to other areas, which I am learning at the moment. To make things more interesting, many of the staff at the Nairobi office are resistant to change - they want to continue doing the same emergency programs that they have been doing for the last few years because for good reason they do them well. I am not suggesting to stop trucking water or digging bore holes - such things are crucial daily needs. Water is life. However, how did the society in Somalia (outside Mogadishu) function before the collapse of the state, the civil war, and now the extended droughts? There was water at one point and there were schools. My question is what is the community's other long term needs and moreover maybe they can direct us to establishing a higher quality of life instead of us showing up in a toyota land cruiser and pointing at sites for the next borehole.
Friday, March 18, 2011
Weekend at the Coast
Thursday night - 5 of us took a night bus to Mombasa. We took Horizon bus - one of higher-end buses - which offers a beverage and has a speed governor. We arrived to Mombasa at 5am and then took a private taxi to Diani beach, about a 30 minute drive south of Mombasa. Since it was was still very early, we relaxed at my roommate's friend's house and then 3 of us girls set-out to find our beach chalet. Originally I was going to stay with my roommate but his on/off again girlfriend was with us and so I decided to avoid more relationship drama and stay on the beach with the other girls. In total there was 6 of us girls at the Diani Beach Chalet. Our chalet was 50 meters from the water and was a beautiful rustic cement block. I chose to room with the other American as she had selected the best room facing the water.
To save money and reap the delicious benefits from the sea we decided to cook all our meals and purchased fish from the fish monger. Actually, we didn't cook much of our food and hired a cook for two days. This was a new experience for me and admittadely I was awkward with this arrangement. Aside from the oily calimari, Hassan's food was amazing and we stuffed our gobs twice a day until exhaustion.My favorite dish of Hassan's was his red snapper curry, this with the mango salsa I made was terribly delicious. The shrimp though on the Indian coast has a very different texture and flavor then shrimps in the Adriatic and Atlantic - it's chewier with a stronger fish flavor. I keep trying the shrimp with the hope of a different taste but I think now I'll put shrimp on hold. The red snapper and king fish in the Indian Ocean are incredible.
Our days at the beach were spent bobbing in the low tide next to white sand beaches and camels trotting back and forth. Between 2 and 5pm we frolicked in the waves. Each morning I set out for a long walk down the beach but the brightness of the sun's reflection off the sand was blinding and I always surrendered to the turquoise clear water. The beach boys on the coast were frustrating at first but I found that by walking suddenly in the opposite direction or asking to be alone (when you were alone) was effective. Beach boys are boys and men who hangout on the beach waiting to pounce on expats - women in particular- in hope of getting something from action, money, anything. You can't blame them because it does work as we saw several pasty white middle-aged Scandinavians and Eastern European women glued to young Kenyan men. Where we saw these hot couples was at 40 Thieves bar and restaurant, the nightlife "spot" in Diani, where we also saw a lot of ex-US Military and young gap year twenty somethings. I preferred our nugget on the beach away from spring break and surrounded by real monkeys.
To save money and reap the delicious benefits from the sea we decided to cook all our meals and purchased fish from the fish monger. Actually, we didn't cook much of our food and hired a cook for two days. This was a new experience for me and admittadely I was awkward with this arrangement. Aside from the oily calimari, Hassan's food was amazing and we stuffed our gobs twice a day until exhaustion.My favorite dish of Hassan's was his red snapper curry, this with the mango salsa I made was terribly delicious. The shrimp though on the Indian coast has a very different texture and flavor then shrimps in the Adriatic and Atlantic - it's chewier with a stronger fish flavor. I keep trying the shrimp with the hope of a different taste but I think now I'll put shrimp on hold. The red snapper and king fish in the Indian Ocean are incredible.
Our days at the beach were spent bobbing in the low tide next to white sand beaches and camels trotting back and forth. Between 2 and 5pm we frolicked in the waves. Each morning I set out for a long walk down the beach but the brightness of the sun's reflection off the sand was blinding and I always surrendered to the turquoise clear water. The beach boys on the coast were frustrating at first but I found that by walking suddenly in the opposite direction or asking to be alone (when you were alone) was effective. Beach boys are boys and men who hangout on the beach waiting to pounce on expats - women in particular- in hope of getting something from action, money, anything. You can't blame them because it does work as we saw several pasty white middle-aged Scandinavians and Eastern European women glued to young Kenyan men. Where we saw these hot couples was at 40 Thieves bar and restaurant, the nightlife "spot" in Diani, where we also saw a lot of ex-US Military and young gap year twenty somethings. I preferred our nugget on the beach away from spring break and surrounded by real monkeys.
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Day Twenty Five
Today at the office I read the thesis of the 2010 nominated Prime Minister of the Transitional Federal Government of Somalia. Although a sensational tone is present throughout, the acting Prime Minister's thesis provides an in-depth historical overview of Somalia in relation to the cold war. The thesis points a few fingers at the US as to why Somalia has been lawless for 19 years, but colonialism and imperialism has certainly contributed to enabling the current chaotic landscape.
For those who doubt colonialism is responsible for much of Africa's demise, please take a good look at Somalia. I will be happy to send you material!
After work I met my friend Cynthia at her house after a sweet 30 minute walk trying to stay ahead of the city buses' farting exhausts. For dinner we went to Habesha Restaurant - an Ethiopian restaurant - that is so very good. They don't put teft, a sour/acid grain, into the injera which means the sour taste does not penetrate across the vegetables and meat. Joining us was a nice guy from the International Crisis Group and a woman from Human Rights Watch who immediately grilled my friend and I on what we're doing in Kenya and who we know. To her approach I told her why I did not like interning with HRW which was essentially - I wanted to do more for the world than write reports that are filed in HRW's library. To be honest, I think HRW has been doing a lot of great work in the last few years with raising awareness of human rights abuses in East Africa. It's just I get repelled by this approach of meeting new people. Her friend from the UNHCR who joined us at the end was worse - he didn't even bother addressing me when the introductions identified me as an intern not with an UN agency.
Afterward dinner we went to Brew Bistro to dance salsa with a live band. A diplomat from Venezuela joined us and grabbed the mic to sing a few songs. This made my night.
For those who doubt colonialism is responsible for much of Africa's demise, please take a good look at Somalia. I will be happy to send you material!
After work I met my friend Cynthia at her house after a sweet 30 minute walk trying to stay ahead of the city buses' farting exhausts. For dinner we went to Habesha Restaurant - an Ethiopian restaurant - that is so very good. They don't put teft, a sour/acid grain, into the injera which means the sour taste does not penetrate across the vegetables and meat. Joining us was a nice guy from the International Crisis Group and a woman from Human Rights Watch who immediately grilled my friend and I on what we're doing in Kenya and who we know. To her approach I told her why I did not like interning with HRW which was essentially - I wanted to do more for the world than write reports that are filed in HRW's library. To be honest, I think HRW has been doing a lot of great work in the last few years with raising awareness of human rights abuses in East Africa. It's just I get repelled by this approach of meeting new people. Her friend from the UNHCR who joined us at the end was worse - he didn't even bother addressing me when the introductions identified me as an intern not with an UN agency.
Afterward dinner we went to Brew Bistro to dance salsa with a live band. A diplomat from Venezuela joined us and grabbed the mic to sing a few songs. This made my night.
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Day twenty three and four
Today is my first day with the Somalia country team. After the customary meet and greet of all staff, including a regional director who I desperately wanted to inform how this organization screwed me out of a job a few months ago, I sit down to read massive amounts of documents on the organization and Somalia. I am also invited to a meeting but I realize quickly that I must be pro-active in asking to attend various meetings or I will do nothing else but read documents on my computer. Since I am still living in Westland and not at the organization's guesthouse, I have access to the organization's taxi service. Between the hours of 5 and 7pm, the traffic in Nairobi is atrocious. My patience escapes me and road rage is in effect. Typically I can last 30 minutes of drivers creating roadblocks and no I mean zero sense of order. During complete this complete ridiculousness I understand why the driver taking me home says - "If I had the option, I would get out of Nairobi." I am happy to be here - I just know that I will be even happier with a full salaried job and at peace with losing a friend.
Day twenty-four
The sector that I am most knowledgeable on and care most about is education. With the Somalia program that I working is thus far only doing agriculture and livelihood, and water, sanitation, and hygiene or WASH or even worse WATSAN - acronyms that the IGOs and NGOs use. Honestly I find when development workers speak mostly in acronyms they appear far less knowledgeable and sincere. I know very little about either sector, for example the distribution of lactating goats, and I am excited to learn.I arrange to meet with both of the program managers this week to help me build a picture on what this organization is doing in Somalia in comparison to the needs and where if possible can I squeeze in education. I happily find out that part of a European Union grant requires a project involving education. Blurry yes but it can be to the country program's advantage.
Day twenty-four
The sector that I am most knowledgeable on and care most about is education. With the Somalia program that I working is thus far only doing agriculture and livelihood, and water, sanitation, and hygiene or WASH or even worse WATSAN - acronyms that the IGOs and NGOs use. Honestly I find when development workers speak mostly in acronyms they appear far less knowledgeable and sincere. I know very little about either sector, for example the distribution of lactating goats, and I am excited to learn.I arrange to meet with both of the program managers this week to help me build a picture on what this organization is doing in Somalia in comparison to the needs and where if possible can I squeeze in education. I happily find out that part of a European Union grant requires a project involving education. Blurry yes but it can be to the country program's advantage.
Day twenty one and two
I woke early with my roommate to go to Yoga at 9am. I still feel empty from the break-up and yoga can be instant therapy. My roommate and I lay on our mats and wait 20 minutes with the other mat people to be informed that the Washington state faux hippie is sick. She is a great instructor but is filled with a lot of bs. Feeling defeated back at home, I contemplate researching ex lovers on facebook but decide to take a salsa dancing class at a hotel nearby. The class is divided into 3 levels and I start with intermediate and am totally lost. The Kenyan instructors are amazing and the intermediate instructor arranges for me to have my personal instructor. The class is dominated by women so the women give me glares as I happily dance with male partner the entire class. For 2 hours I felt really good constantly moving with a fantastic dance partner.
Day twenty two
Today I had lunch with an old friend who I met in Sarajevo Bosnia. She is incredibly talented and at our age is a regional director for a Canadian/US Christian organization. We went to Art Caffee and then took a long walk to find a women's organization that sells a variety of items made by women who have been sexually or physically abused. It is of course closed on Sundays and we make plans to go next week.
Day twenty two
Today I had lunch with an old friend who I met in Sarajevo Bosnia. She is incredibly talented and at our age is a regional director for a Canadian/US Christian organization. We went to Art Caffee and then took a long walk to find a women's organization that sells a variety of items made by women who have been sexually or physically abused. It is of course closed on Sundays and we make plans to go next week.
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
Day nineteen and twenty
I officially accepted the internship with Somalia program of an INGO. It's something and I'm more than ready to work full time. So this is good start.
Today after doing some job research I went and played squash with my roommate at the Impala country club. The country club is beautiful - it looks like an old Italian resort from the 1960's. I say this because I stayed at a few Italian resorts built during WWII in Ethiopia and the Impala's style of green and white buildings with bars tucked in random areas is a mirror image. I played horribly but after half an hour I was able to make my roommate run. Afterwards we went swimming in the outdoor pool. The total cost of this outing was $6. Without a doubt I am living a life of luxury in Nairobi and I am grateful at this opportunity to enjoy such things.
After Impala, I met a woman who is working with my organization's counterpart in Somalia. She offers insight into work opportunities in the region and I enjoy talking with her about life in general. She drops me off at a matatu station and since it's before 5pm I am able to get home in half an hour. Later that night I meet my friend Cynthia at an Italian restaurant whose prices match some Italian places in the East Village. It was worth it as my appetite has recovered from transition into single life again. We then went to the Havana bar as it's the "spot" to go to on Thursday. We had a nice time aside from meeting several creepy expat men who clearly go to Havana seeking fresh meat.
The next day I completed a lot of paperwork for the organization I will be working for and then set out to buy food for dinner. I had a craving for chicken cutlet and I invited my friend cynthia as she has done a lot for me to help me get settled. Aside from the cutlets getting a little burned, they were delicious. Afterwards we went out to a Onami - the Japanese restaurant/bar owned by an Israeli restaurateur. The food is great but the prices do not match the service so when it took an hour for my friend's sashimi salad, I spoke to the manager and got the salad taken off the bill. After working in many restaurants in New York, I have little tolerance for food that costs a lot without the service to back it up. Also I have inherited my father's high expectations for service and lack of patience for poor management. I am however trying to be more patient and less uptight about things that are not worth getting angry over. It's a challenge and patience, as my Kenyan roommate tells me, is a skill that Kenyans have mastered. I will not master it but I will touch it.
Today after doing some job research I went and played squash with my roommate at the Impala country club. The country club is beautiful - it looks like an old Italian resort from the 1960's. I say this because I stayed at a few Italian resorts built during WWII in Ethiopia and the Impala's style of green and white buildings with bars tucked in random areas is a mirror image. I played horribly but after half an hour I was able to make my roommate run. Afterwards we went swimming in the outdoor pool. The total cost of this outing was $6. Without a doubt I am living a life of luxury in Nairobi and I am grateful at this opportunity to enjoy such things.
After Impala, I met a woman who is working with my organization's counterpart in Somalia. She offers insight into work opportunities in the region and I enjoy talking with her about life in general. She drops me off at a matatu station and since it's before 5pm I am able to get home in half an hour. Later that night I meet my friend Cynthia at an Italian restaurant whose prices match some Italian places in the East Village. It was worth it as my appetite has recovered from transition into single life again. We then went to the Havana bar as it's the "spot" to go to on Thursday. We had a nice time aside from meeting several creepy expat men who clearly go to Havana seeking fresh meat.
The next day I completed a lot of paperwork for the organization I will be working for and then set out to buy food for dinner. I had a craving for chicken cutlet and I invited my friend cynthia as she has done a lot for me to help me get settled. Aside from the cutlets getting a little burned, they were delicious. Afterwards we went out to a Onami - the Japanese restaurant/bar owned by an Israeli restaurateur. The food is great but the prices do not match the service so when it took an hour for my friend's sashimi salad, I spoke to the manager and got the salad taken off the bill. After working in many restaurants in New York, I have little tolerance for food that costs a lot without the service to back it up. Also I have inherited my father's high expectations for service and lack of patience for poor management. I am however trying to be more patient and less uptight about things that are not worth getting angry over. It's a challenge and patience, as my Kenyan roommate tells me, is a skill that Kenyans have mastered. I will not master it but I will touch it.
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Day Eighteen
Today I went to town to meet with a Somali woman who has put me in touch with a Somali NGO that is seeking a consultant for project proposals. We arrange to meet at a mall downtown Nairobi and it takes us 30 minutes to locate each other in the mall. I often get lost in translation with giving and getting directions in East Africa. It's amazing how many ways there are to describe your location. We finally meet and she has brought a colleague with her who is also from Somalia. She begins the meeting by saying that the organization will only pay me for my services if a grant is awarded. I explain to her that I am not financially able to do that. What I want to say is that for so long I have provided services for employers for little or no money. I do however say that I will speak with the director to see if there is any compensation he can offer although I know damn well there is isn't. When our meeting closes, they look to me to pay which I do without hesitation. I'm trying to not let myself get too worked-up over a few dollars since I am after all much more fortunate. Principals are hard to let go of sometimes but I'm finding it is more beneficial not raising your blood pressure over stupid expectations.
After the meeting, I headed over to Alliance Francaise to see the film, "A Prophet" which was runner-up to the academy awards last year. http://movies.nytimes.com/2010/02/26/movies/26prophet.html The film provides an intimate portrait of cultural prison gangs in France. It is a very well made film that keeps you on edge the whole 2.5 hours. It is a bit too long and during scenes of such intense anxiety, I found myself wanting to leave. Several people actually left and came back during the film.
Overall I recommend it, particularly those who are from France, Corsica, and Franco-phone countries.
After the meeting, I headed over to Alliance Francaise to see the film, "A Prophet" which was runner-up to the academy awards last year. http://movies.nytimes.com/2010/02/26/movies/26prophet.html The film provides an intimate portrait of cultural prison gangs in France. It is a very well made film that keeps you on edge the whole 2.5 hours. It is a bit too long and during scenes of such intense anxiety, I found myself wanting to leave. Several people actually left and came back during the film.
Overall I recommend it, particularly those who are from France, Corsica, and Franco-phone countries.
Saturday, February 26, 2011
Day Seventeen
I'm a few days behind as this week I worked my first full week from 9-5pm in 6 months. Yep it's been a long time and I returned home mentally exhausted. This is a good thing! I have taken the paid volunteer position with an INGO's Somalia country program and I am excited to contribute to the organization. I am still actively looking for a full salaried position as it would be the best gift in the world to have a full-time job before I turn 30.
Day Seventeen
Today I went to Nairobi's grand second hand clothing market -Toy Market. I went with a new friend who is one of the most outgoing and friendly French women I have ever met. Like so many expats here, she runs an eco adventure trekking company but the more eco tours that protect the environment here the better. We are headed to the market because she apparently has gained weight and needs new outfits and I am seeking retail therapy. The clothes in Toy market are primarily designer clothes that have been tossed out by expats and wealthy Kenyans. The clothes are washed and ironed and are organized by style and type. In terms of era the clothes range from vintage to current. There is also a great shoe section and the first hour I find a pair of red leather Italian sandals and purchase them for $8. I could have gone lower but I find this to be an already great deal that I can afford.
My friend spends a few hours in the jean section while I hang out with the seller who is in his mid twenties. He expresses several concerns about his government, namely the president and it hopeful that the momentum in Northern Africa will carry through to the next year when Kenya has its elections. I snap a few photos of him and make a promise to return. As we leave the market we pass a woman selling whole fried tillapia. I've had it on Lake Victoria and it's amazing. My friend tells me it's equally delicious at toy market. Next time. This place is pretty fantastic.
Day Seventeen
Today I went to Nairobi's grand second hand clothing market -Toy Market. I went with a new friend who is one of the most outgoing and friendly French women I have ever met. Like so many expats here, she runs an eco adventure trekking company but the more eco tours that protect the environment here the better. We are headed to the market because she apparently has gained weight and needs new outfits and I am seeking retail therapy. The clothes in Toy market are primarily designer clothes that have been tossed out by expats and wealthy Kenyans. The clothes are washed and ironed and are organized by style and type. In terms of era the clothes range from vintage to current. There is also a great shoe section and the first hour I find a pair of red leather Italian sandals and purchase them for $8. I could have gone lower but I find this to be an already great deal that I can afford.
My friend spends a few hours in the jean section while I hang out with the seller who is in his mid twenties. He expresses several concerns about his government, namely the president and it hopeful that the momentum in Northern Africa will carry through to the next year when Kenya has its elections. I snap a few photos of him and make a promise to return. As we leave the market we pass a woman selling whole fried tillapia. I've had it on Lake Victoria and it's amazing. My friend tells me it's equally delicious at toy market. Next time. This place is pretty fantastic.
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Day Sixteen
The best thing that happened on Valentines Day was my Uncle Pete returning to West Palm Beach after experiencing a terrible car accident in North Carolina that totalled his car. Beyond that, the day was vanilla. I went to Yaya shopping mall during the day and received a rose with a tag advertising 40% off of women's clothing and jewelry. After Yaya I researched jobs and bitched with two girlfriends about men. Very productive I swear. Later that night we went to go see the French film L'arnacœur or Heartbreaker and on the way to the mall we passed an electrical pole on fire. An hour before, massive winds brought the rain sideways and white water surrounded the city. We discussed with the taxi driver what to do but after we heard the lines popping, the executive decision was to get the hell out of the area.
The rainy season in Nairobi generally starts in March but last year's rain was inefficient for the crops and many people in the central region of Kenya are suffering from lack of harvest. As a result many pastoralists are driving their animals to the city where there is land to graze. According to a taxi driver that I had last week, senior MPs made a huge procession to the drought stricken area but arrived empty handed with an empty promise that cereals and maize would be shared.I am just becoming familiar with the tribal relations of Kenya but from what I've observed, the sharing of excess crops between two tribes to prevent hunger is extremely treacherous and therefore avoided. Let it rain.
The rainy season in Nairobi generally starts in March but last year's rain was inefficient for the crops and many people in the central region of Kenya are suffering from lack of harvest. As a result many pastoralists are driving their animals to the city where there is land to graze. According to a taxi driver that I had last week, senior MPs made a huge procession to the drought stricken area but arrived empty handed with an empty promise that cereals and maize would be shared.I am just becoming familiar with the tribal relations of Kenya but from what I've observed, the sharing of excess crops between two tribes to prevent hunger is extremely treacherous and therefore avoided. Let it rain.
Monday, February 21, 2011
Day Fifthteen Continued
I woke up sad and exhausted from the day/night before and decided to go for a long walk in my neighborhood. At some point the empty feeling inside transitioned to tears and hunger and I called a friend to meet for lunch. I took what I thought was short cut and ended up walking kilometres alongside Nairobi's city highway. There is actually a decent path next to the median of the highway and on the path I passed Kenyans dressed in Sunday clothes, teenagers, bums, and dead rats. Everyone who passed me was just as surprised as I was to be walking alongside a highway Sunday afternoon.
Later that night I joined my roommates in going out for a US Embassy staffer's last day and felt remarkably better. Our first stop was a bar with live music where my roommate's Kenyan Indian friends met us. In waltzed in 3 ladies in tight black dresses. One of them looked familiar and knew my name. My roommate quickly cleared my confusion - the woman who knew me was actually the man who I met earlier that day at my house. She commented on my looks and I returned her compliment, her dress was just a few inches past her butt. The cross-dresser new friend recommended we go to a few Indian bars that are off the grid. The buildings where the first Indian dance club was located looked like the inside of the Indian restaurants on the corner of 1st avenue and 6th street in Manhattan. Multi-colored lights were strung across the buildings and blinked sporadically and behind the dark windows a bollywood beat shrilled. Inside the windowless bar was a stage where Asian girls dressed in tight red revealing red pleather outfits paraded around sucking lollypops. My suspicions were confirmed - these girls were from Nepal and were under 18. I have never been this close to sex trafficking in my life. Surrounding us were middle aged Indian men waving Kenyan shillings in the air at the girls. I announced the reality to the people with me and we left before finishing our drinks. Walking past the girl wiggling her body in front of a fan I paused to offer her help but I had no idea whom I could refer her to.... In the corner were thugs staring at us.
The next place was similar but instead of Nepali women the dancers were Indian and they had choreographed numbers and sang with an Indian man. I felt less guilty to be there but watching men take a wad of 100 shilling bills and throw them in the air around the women dancing and then the Kenyan waiters clean the floor of bills is disturbing to put it mildly. It's like driving by a car accident and not being able to turn away. We ended the night with delicious chicken pies from Oil Libya where the American from the Embassy is unable to buy gas.
Later that night I joined my roommates in going out for a US Embassy staffer's last day and felt remarkably better. Our first stop was a bar with live music where my roommate's Kenyan Indian friends met us. In waltzed in 3 ladies in tight black dresses. One of them looked familiar and knew my name. My roommate quickly cleared my confusion - the woman who knew me was actually the man who I met earlier that day at my house. She commented on my looks and I returned her compliment, her dress was just a few inches past her butt. The cross-dresser new friend recommended we go to a few Indian bars that are off the grid. The buildings where the first Indian dance club was located looked like the inside of the Indian restaurants on the corner of 1st avenue and 6th street in Manhattan. Multi-colored lights were strung across the buildings and blinked sporadically and behind the dark windows a bollywood beat shrilled. Inside the windowless bar was a stage where Asian girls dressed in tight red revealing red pleather outfits paraded around sucking lollypops. My suspicions were confirmed - these girls were from Nepal and were under 18. I have never been this close to sex trafficking in my life. Surrounding us were middle aged Indian men waving Kenyan shillings in the air at the girls. I announced the reality to the people with me and we left before finishing our drinks. Walking past the girl wiggling her body in front of a fan I paused to offer her help but I had no idea whom I could refer her to.... In the corner were thugs staring at us.
The next place was similar but instead of Nepali women the dancers were Indian and they had choreographed numbers and sang with an Indian man. I felt less guilty to be there but watching men take a wad of 100 shilling bills and throw them in the air around the women dancing and then the Kenyan waiters clean the floor of bills is disturbing to put it mildly. It's like driving by a car accident and not being able to turn away. We ended the night with delicious chicken pies from Oil Libya where the American from the Embassy is unable to buy gas.
Sunday, February 20, 2011
Day Fourteen and Fifthteen
I started the day with Yoga with my roommate at a swanky Indian gym at one of the malls near our house. Today I knew marked the end of a long distance relationship and I thought it be best to start it by stretching and meditation. After Yoga I launched into an 8 hours conversation with my long distance partner which was wrought with nausea, anger, and laughter. I had many questions and many things I wanted to say, so it took my Saturday. Mixed feelings about the whole thing still lay around me but I know that right now I need to be alone as I carve out my new life. As a friend of mine who has worked abroad and has had many long distance relationships said recently said, "when long distance relationships fall apart it is a disappointment to put it mildly and you find yourself asking again, 'why did I put myself through this, [again].'" I'm fully aware that these long distance relationships are doomed for disappointment but it is easy to play the fool when you are scared of being alone.
After dinner at a Lebanese/Japanese restaurant - in Nairobi they take fusion to strip mall level - I went out with a few girlfriends and we ended up crashing a UN staffer's party in the posh neighborhood of Gigeri (spelling not correct). UN staffers are allotted ridiculous housing allowances as are US Embassy staff and they tend to live near their fortresses in Gigeri. The staffer was from Spain and was playing hits from the 80s which made me happy. Mr. Wendall was blasting when we arrived.
After dinner at a Lebanese/Japanese restaurant - in Nairobi they take fusion to strip mall level - I went out with a few girlfriends and we ended up crashing a UN staffer's party in the posh neighborhood of Gigeri (spelling not correct). UN staffers are allotted ridiculous housing allowances as are US Embassy staff and they tend to live near their fortresses in Gigeri. The staffer was from Spain and was playing hits from the 80s which made me happy. Mr. Wendall was blasting when we arrived.
Friday, February 18, 2011
Day Thirteen
Today was the second day of the partnership workshop with the Somalia country team. Similar to yesterday, we broke into pairs to brainstorm strategies which gave me an opportunity to work with each team member of the Somalia Country Team. It also gave me an opportunity to discuss my interests and skills in development, such as youth and livelihood and monitoring and evaluation. With the majority of the team being Muslim,our lunch break today was two hours for Friday prayer service. I used the time speaking to the governance program manager from the London office who unveiled to me how the system of paying technical advisors creates barriers to programs within the organization working togeyther such education and health. Each program has a technical adivsor, however, as we know it no one development initiative is limited to only the education and livelihood program. I find this to be systematic issue with many NGOs and believe it prevents a program or project from reaching its full potential. I will give concrete examples as my research expands.
I shared a taxi with the deputy director of the Somalia program to my friend's place and because it was rush hour we had plenty time to talk. I politely inquired about the DDP's family unaware that it would turn into a conversation about family planning. The DDP has 8 children and informed that for the first two years of a marriage according to his customs, the couple are allowed to preform the "natural" mode of birth control which is the pulling out method. I successfully managed to stop him from going into details and I politely said that I am a proponent of birth control options such as condoms, pills, etc. He was understanding of our different beliefs yet I was happy that we had reached my stop and I no longer had to clamp my mouth shut about the relationship between East Africa's ridiculous high birth rate and quality of life.
I shared a taxi with the deputy director of the Somalia program to my friend's place and because it was rush hour we had plenty time to talk. I politely inquired about the DDP's family unaware that it would turn into a conversation about family planning. The DDP has 8 children and informed that for the first two years of a marriage according to his customs, the couple are allowed to preform the "natural" mode of birth control which is the pulling out method. I successfully managed to stop him from going into details and I politely said that I am a proponent of birth control options such as condoms, pills, etc. He was understanding of our different beliefs yet I was happy that we had reached my stop and I no longer had to clamp my mouth shut about the relationship between East Africa's ridiculous high birth rate and quality of life.
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Day Twevle
Today I went to a workshop about partnership building with local NGOs for the INGO that I will be volunteering with for the next 6 months. The workshop was lead by a techinical advisor from the New York Office and present at the lecture was the Somalia country team with whom I will be working with. It was an ackward beginning given that the workshop leader used the several American idioms and odd expressions such as "hit the nail on the head" and "let's table that." It was kind of fascinating to watch her try to explain such silly sayings and instruct the Somalia team to take "a 10 minutes AMERICAN break" instead of African. It is true the concept of time is different here but the Africans in the room are professionals and I cringed each time she said it. Beyond that, the workshop was actually pretty interesting and I got to observe how the team interacts with one another and who is the strongest link, weakest link, and who makes the others listen. The team as a whole is very strong and diverse and I look forward to working with them.
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Day Eleven
Today my mission was to go to the Sarit Mall to activate my internet stick. I was alerted this was going to be process so I arrived at the Safaricom store armed with patience. 30 minutes later I was connected again to the internet. Much of the rest of the day was spent writing emails for consultancy positions and researching jobs. Before the sun set I went out for a walk around my neighborhood and found out much of the residents in the area were out in their walking gear doing the same thing. The residents where I live are a mix of expats, Indians, and African Kenyans - with African Kenyans holding the smallest percentage of the residents I've seen. After dark, there is little street light in the area and dangerous minds lurk along the road. It is striking how the city changes faces at night.
Later tonight I had dinner with a graduate school friend from my international field program in Ethiopia and his colleague. Currently they work for an organization that I;m very interested in and one that I had a miserable interview with. We had dinner at Art Caffe and were saranated by a jazz band on the patio. I am inspired by out conversations and have met another successful woman who is willing to help me network. I happily climb into my apartment's taxi drivers and sleep well that night.
Later tonight I had dinner with a graduate school friend from my international field program in Ethiopia and his colleague. Currently they work for an organization that I;m very interested in and one that I had a miserable interview with. We had dinner at Art Caffe and were saranated by a jazz band on the patio. I am inspired by out conversations and have met another successful woman who is willing to help me network. I happily climb into my apartment's taxi drivers and sleep well that night.
Monday, February 14, 2011
Day Ten
Adventures of Baking-a-Cake
Today is my roommate's birthday and I've decided to bake my friend's mother's chocolate cake. My friend with the recipe has graciously agreed to help me and my other roommate has offered us a bottle of champagne while we bake. All good. I set off to one of the malls nearby house and buy the ingredients. When my friend arrives she informs me we need a whisk, eggs, and finer sugar. I woke-up feeling exhausted and melancholy because my body is still adjusting and my relationship with the expat I'm seeing is unraveling. So I forgot eggs, a baking pan, and good butter. Most of the butter here tastes like cheese.
My friend and I walk back to the nearest mall and purchase some of the forgotten ingredients including a whisk which we took from an appliance kit we found. Unfortunately, the cashiers would not let us buy the whisk alone. We accept defeat and march back to the house where we alternate whisking 4 eggs for an hour. It is now time to put the cake in the oven and we discover I have a gas oven. My male roommate offers to light the oven and waves a lighter all over the oven. Nothing happens until all of a sudden a fire ball comes out of the oven sending my roommate backwards and me shrieking. Aside from some burned arm hair, my roommate is fine. He and my friend leave and scour my apartment building for someone with a working oven. None of my Kenyan neighbors know how to use the gas stove as they do not bake. My last hope is the arrival of my Dutch neighbor who kindly invites me and to my delight he has an electric oven. The cake is baked and I've met a new friend. Success after all.
Today is my roommate's birthday and I've decided to bake my friend's mother's chocolate cake. My friend with the recipe has graciously agreed to help me and my other roommate has offered us a bottle of champagne while we bake. All good. I set off to one of the malls nearby house and buy the ingredients. When my friend arrives she informs me we need a whisk, eggs, and finer sugar. I woke-up feeling exhausted and melancholy because my body is still adjusting and my relationship with the expat I'm seeing is unraveling. So I forgot eggs, a baking pan, and good butter. Most of the butter here tastes like cheese.
My friend and I walk back to the nearest mall and purchase some of the forgotten ingredients including a whisk which we took from an appliance kit we found. Unfortunately, the cashiers would not let us buy the whisk alone. We accept defeat and march back to the house where we alternate whisking 4 eggs for an hour. It is now time to put the cake in the oven and we discover I have a gas oven. My male roommate offers to light the oven and waves a lighter all over the oven. Nothing happens until all of a sudden a fire ball comes out of the oven sending my roommate backwards and me shrieking. Aside from some burned arm hair, my roommate is fine. He and my friend leave and scour my apartment building for someone with a working oven. None of my Kenyan neighbors know how to use the gas stove as they do not bake. My last hope is the arrival of my Dutch neighbor who kindly invites me and to my delight he has an electric oven. The cake is baked and I've met a new friend. Success after all.
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Day Nine
Today was my second go at using local transport and exploring downtown Nairobi. My mission today was to buy an internet stick, go to my friend Cynthia's house and submit job applications. A 15 min walk from my house is the matatu station to downtown. Matatus only depart when the van is full to capacity and the preferred method of getting full is lurching the van back and forth along the pick-up area. Once full it takes only 15 minutes to get down-town as there is little traffic. During rush hour, I am told it can take upwards 45 minutes. The transportation works as such - the privately own matatus cannot enter the city centre and so drops passengers on the edge of downtown. Matatus, although private, are owned by wealthy business men which primarily include current and past government ministers. Buses that are allowed downtown are semi-private/public.
Once downtown, I walk across town to meet my friend at the Safaricom Centre - the mobile phone store. Nairobi's downtown is actually quite small - much like the downtown of St. Paul, Minnesota. The Safaricom store is chaotic and reminds me of Sprint stores in New York a couple years ago that were filled with unemployed or part-time customers, including myself, arguing and paying our bills. The major difference is the lack of respect for waiting one's turn. So after my friend and I successfully blocked several people from cutting in front of us, I left with my new internet stick and boarded a bus back to my friend's house.
Today's job application was for a UN post. As many people might know, it is quite hard to penetrate the UN system if your family has not worked there or if you don't any relations with hiring managers. But, like with most things, I refuse to give up so I'll keep on trying.
Once downtown, I walk across town to meet my friend at the Safaricom Centre - the mobile phone store. Nairobi's downtown is actually quite small - much like the downtown of St. Paul, Minnesota. The Safaricom store is chaotic and reminds me of Sprint stores in New York a couple years ago that were filled with unemployed or part-time customers, including myself, arguing and paying our bills. The major difference is the lack of respect for waiting one's turn. So after my friend and I successfully blocked several people from cutting in front of us, I left with my new internet stick and boarded a bus back to my friend's house.
Today's job application was for a UN post. As many people might know, it is quite hard to penetrate the UN system if your family has not worked there or if you don't any relations with hiring managers. But, like with most things, I refuse to give up so I'll keep on trying.
Friday, February 11, 2011
Day Eight
Sunday I woke-up feeling delighted - I had slept a solid 7 hours. My roommates were also up, they had gotten home a little bit ago from a big night out. Nairobi has an extensive party scene that is essentially grouped around my neighborhood - westlands. I had not yet exceeded 2am at a bar because I was exhausted and a friend was in town.
After watching the Daily Show projected on to the wall, the roommates passed out and I called a taxi to go to my friend Cynthia's house across town. This Sunday was the event blanket and wine where hundreds of people flock to Karen Park armed with food and wine. A portion of the Karen Park is designated for the event and a list of musicians preform on a bandstand. It costs $10 in advance for tickets. The Karen region of Nairobi is what people refer to as the white-Kenyan neighborhood. Instead of houses or apartments, there are plantations. Sound Familiar? The crowd that attends the "blanket and wine" events is split between Kenyans and expats. It was also a fashion show that was easily won by the Kenyan women. I still have yet to understand why expat women wear those 3/4 length pants where the ass bit hangs down near their knees and it looks like their carrying poop. The music was unfortunately corny and not that great - in fact the last performer's name was Mr. xxx Cheesy.But Mr. Cheesy was better than the headliner whose voice was cracking and off key. During this performance, not one African person was dancing. This is always a sign that the music in fact sucks. Although weirdly paradoxical, it was an enjoyable people watching experience. The highlight of the night however was my roommate's lentil soup with beef tenderloin, which was on the stove ready when I came home.
After watching the Daily Show projected on to the wall, the roommates passed out and I called a taxi to go to my friend Cynthia's house across town. This Sunday was the event blanket and wine where hundreds of people flock to Karen Park armed with food and wine. A portion of the Karen Park is designated for the event and a list of musicians preform on a bandstand. It costs $10 in advance for tickets. The Karen region of Nairobi is what people refer to as the white-Kenyan neighborhood. Instead of houses or apartments, there are plantations. Sound Familiar? The crowd that attends the "blanket and wine" events is split between Kenyans and expats. It was also a fashion show that was easily won by the Kenyan women. I still have yet to understand why expat women wear those 3/4 length pants where the ass bit hangs down near their knees and it looks like their carrying poop. The music was unfortunately corny and not that great - in fact the last performer's name was Mr. xxx Cheesy.But Mr. Cheesy was better than the headliner whose voice was cracking and off key. During this performance, not one African person was dancing. This is always a sign that the music in fact sucks. Although weirdly paradoxical, it was an enjoyable people watching experience. The highlight of the night however was my roommate's lentil soup with beef tenderloin, which was on the stove ready when I came home.
Day Seven
I started the day with making the usual trek to Unami Market at Sarit Mall - one of the malls located 20 minute from my house. The Unami Market is the cheaper version of the western-style food markets. My treks to the Sarit Mall are already getting monotenous and I'm trying to find new routes that are both interesting and safe. Later that eventing I walked back to a Mall to have delicious steak dinner for $10 at a Spanish style restaurant. My friend ordered the moroccan lamb and got sick hours later. It tasted like liquid cinnamon.
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
China's role in Africa's Infrastructure is Rapidly Growing
Go to this link for some great pics and basic info on how China has dramatically increased their investment in Africa's infrastructure.
http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-africa-12357672
http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-africa-12357672
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Day Six Continued
Since my friend and I had started our night early, we were not going to join Nairobi late night party scene. So after Art Caffe we checked out the cinema at the Westgate mall - the most luxurious mall in Nairobi and home to the most bomb threats. Only crap movies were playing such as the latest Bruce Willis and the Tourist. {Actually, I saw the Tourist in NYC with my best friend who got screening tickets for her magazine} We then walked a few blocks to the Sarit Mall, passing my young kids selling Samoyed puppies, kittens, and bunnies in the exit area of Westgate mall. I coowed like any other woman but my roommate informed the first time I passed these baby animals that a friend of his bought a kitten but the kitten was removed from the mother too soon and died shortly after.
At Sarit Mall, another dumb moving was playing so we grabbed a beer and some vegetable kabobs at a Kenyan restaurant in the mall. The vegetable kabobs were swimming in MSG so we decided to avoid ordering other food. Sometimes it's best to start with an appetizer in a restaurant you are unsure of. It was still early but dark at night so walking far is not an option. One the taxi drivers I use told me, "you are suicidal if you walk at night in Nairobi - Kenyans, Muzungus (white people), and everyone." I seriously hope that is an exaggeration but I will not test my luck. We ended our night at Sankara hotel that in the last few months opened their rooftop pool bar. Owned and managed by Indian-Kenyans, the roof top bar has a middle eastern ascetic with large L-shaped sofas and distended fabric from the ceiling. We didn't stay long as prices are expensive and the scene was changing from relaxed drinks after work to club techno beats. Strange place but it was nice to be 9 stories high above the chaos of the Nairobi streets - a luxury I'm very aware of.
At Sarit Mall, another dumb moving was playing so we grabbed a beer and some vegetable kabobs at a Kenyan restaurant in the mall. The vegetable kabobs were swimming in MSG so we decided to avoid ordering other food. Sometimes it's best to start with an appetizer in a restaurant you are unsure of. It was still early but dark at night so walking far is not an option. One the taxi drivers I use told me, "you are suicidal if you walk at night in Nairobi - Kenyans, Muzungus (white people), and everyone." I seriously hope that is an exaggeration but I will not test my luck. We ended our night at Sankara hotel that in the last few months opened their rooftop pool bar. Owned and managed by Indian-Kenyans, the roof top bar has a middle eastern ascetic with large L-shaped sofas and distended fabric from the ceiling. We didn't stay long as prices are expensive and the scene was changing from relaxed drinks after work to club techno beats. Strange place but it was nice to be 9 stories high above the chaos of the Nairobi streets - a luxury I'm very aware of.
Day Six
The rest of Friday I spent writing as the Internet was down and then around 5pm I headed out to meet a friend at the Art Caffe - a caffe that sings New York's tribeca decor inside and South Beach's yacht style cafes. Oh and they place makes pizza and a real baguette. Like many high end eateries in East Africa, this place is owned by Indians who know all too well how to market this kind of atmosphere to a society that is willing to pay more than they can afford.
Monday, February 7, 2011
Day Five
I wake-up excited. Through friends of friends I have met a few people in the education development sector who have informed me of work opportunities and have passed on a few contacts. I have been pleasantly surprised by the attitude here of helping new comers find work. I will to do the same as I build my career.
To start the day, I head to Javahut for breakfast. The person whom I'm dating is visiting Nairobi on R&R and is staying with me for a few days. It's comforting to have a companion although only for a brief time as I adjust to my new home. As I said before, relationships with other expats working in development are not simple but they are exciting and change daily. As a journalist friend who worked in the region during the chaos of the early 90s told me recenlty, "take each day one day at a time and look at each day as a new in your life." I think that's the best approach for where I am in my life.
To start the day, I head to Javahut for breakfast. The person whom I'm dating is visiting Nairobi on R&R and is staying with me for a few days. It's comforting to have a companion although only for a brief time as I adjust to my new home. As I said before, relationships with other expats working in development are not simple but they are exciting and change daily. As a journalist friend who worked in the region during the chaos of the early 90s told me recenlty, "take each day one day at a time and look at each day as a new in your life." I think that's the best approach for where I am in my life.
Saturday, February 5, 2011
Day Four
I’m a bit tired from dancing salsa the night before and consuming moskohijtos which are amazing because instead of rum it’s vodka with just mint mint and sprite. Today I head back to NY INGO to meet a colleague from this summer and try to find the education manager again. No education manager but lunch with my friend who splits her work between Uganda and Kenya is nice and encouraging. After eating a deep friend veggie patty which is really just fried mash potatoes, maize, and maybe chick peas, I decide it’s time to try the local transportation system.
Taxi rides in Nairobi are expensive alone and if I’m going to live here full time for the next 6 months, I must take the bus. To get across town back to where I live, I find out you must take a city bus down town and transfer to a small minibus to get back to my neighborhood, Westland. The city bus is fast and very cheap but once downtown I have no clue where to find the minibus I need. I ask the older gentleman sitting across from me where I can get the Westland minibus and the one clutching a beautiful red pepper kindly tells me he’ll show me where. After crossing through downtown, the red pepper gentleman pounds on the side of the bus indicating he wants to get off. Quickly he grabs a few folded boxes and mumbles to me to follow him. At least that’s what I thought he said. So I jump out in the middle of traffic and chase the man with the pepper who is moving surprisingly fast. Note – this is not meant to be offensive but East Africans move as fast as Minnesotans in the summer. SLOW. When I finally catch up to him a few blocks later and ask where my minibus is, he smiles and says, “Oh, You still here.” Uh yes I am. He points at a few minibuses and heads back into the crowd of people. The minibuses there are not the ones I need but bystanders guide me in the right direction. A block later, I find the minibus and 5 minutes later we are hauling ass through Nairobi, missing several other minibuses by inches. Once out of the minibus, I feel more relaxed and confidently pick my way to the malls near my house.
Taxi rides in Nairobi are expensive alone and if I’m going to live here full time for the next 6 months, I must take the bus. To get across town back to where I live, I find out you must take a city bus down town and transfer to a small minibus to get back to my neighborhood, Westland. The city bus is fast and very cheap but once downtown I have no clue where to find the minibus I need. I ask the older gentleman sitting across from me where I can get the Westland minibus and the one clutching a beautiful red pepper kindly tells me he’ll show me where. After crossing through downtown, the red pepper gentleman pounds on the side of the bus indicating he wants to get off. Quickly he grabs a few folded boxes and mumbles to me to follow him. At least that’s what I thought he said. So I jump out in the middle of traffic and chase the man with the pepper who is moving surprisingly fast. Note – this is not meant to be offensive but East Africans move as fast as Minnesotans in the summer. SLOW. When I finally catch up to him a few blocks later and ask where my minibus is, he smiles and says, “Oh, You still here.” Uh yes I am. He points at a few minibuses and heads back into the crowd of people. The minibuses there are not the ones I need but bystanders guide me in the right direction. A block later, I find the minibus and 5 minutes later we are hauling ass through Nairobi, missing several other minibuses by inches. Once out of the minibus, I feel more relaxed and confidently pick my way to the malls near my house.
Day Three
I over-slept my alarm and thanks to kind roommates, they woke me up and had coffee ready. I quickly jumped in the taxi and off we went to go sit in traffic. In Nairobi, a complex transportation system of buses, minivans, and private hire taxis exist. Navigating the public transport is not easy and as a foreigner if you don’t know what you are doing you are a prime target for theft. So for my second day in Nairobi, I decided to go the expensive route and hired a taxi. I was headed to the organization I worked for this summer – which I’ll call NY NGO - to have an interview on a grants volunteer position for the Somalia program. The interview went well and I enjoyed the humor of the Italian country director. The position is a great entry point to the organization but the pay is quite low and I have think carefully how much more time should I invest in another internship/volunteer post. I have deferred my graduate loans twice now and I’d like to begin payments this year.
After shoving a chicken pie down my throat at Java Café – the Starbucks of Nairobi but better – I head back to the organization to meet with the education manager. The education sector in the Kenyan office consists of just this one manager who is struggling to enlarge the program and simultaneously release a massive policy on referrals for youth to Kenya. His suggestion is that I try to create a volunteer position in 6 months. While it sounds enticing, I can only afford to live as a volunteer starting from now to 6 months. I will though maintain contact with the manager and see if any consultancy opportunities arise in 6 months. Honestly, the grants volunteer position has become very appealing as it would challenge my skills and enhance my experience in designing project proposals with a budget line.
I finish the day with drinking wine with my friend who I met in Bosnia , Cynthia ,and her friend who is going through a break-up with another development worker. Building a long-term relationship when working in development is super complex and simply risky. Feelings are schizophrenic and evolve rapidly. I have fallen for someone in one week and then the long term reality check happens the next day and I quickly move on. In contrast, I have also fallen for someone and lived in the fantasy of us working together across the world and building a family in transit. In other words, I wanted the fantasy to become my reality. So in this case, I played the role in this journalist’s fantasy that only went to so far as a few weeks at a time. Looking back, I was never part of his reality.
Yet again I have entered this relationship environment again moving to Kenya and moreover I’m dating another expat working in a different country in East Africa. I don’t have all the answers as to why, how, and where it will go but I do believe that the potential of a relationship to work out long term is possible in my surroundings. Or maybe it’ll happen outside of East Africa. The point is, I still have faith in love or maybe figuring my career out has taken the attention away from the discouraging love affairs that happen living abroad.
After shoving a chicken pie down my throat at Java Café – the Starbucks of Nairobi but better – I head back to the organization to meet with the education manager. The education sector in the Kenyan office consists of just this one manager who is struggling to enlarge the program and simultaneously release a massive policy on referrals for youth to Kenya. His suggestion is that I try to create a volunteer position in 6 months. While it sounds enticing, I can only afford to live as a volunteer starting from now to 6 months. I will though maintain contact with the manager and see if any consultancy opportunities arise in 6 months. Honestly, the grants volunteer position has become very appealing as it would challenge my skills and enhance my experience in designing project proposals with a budget line.
I finish the day with drinking wine with my friend who I met in Bosnia , Cynthia ,and her friend who is going through a break-up with another development worker. Building a long-term relationship when working in development is super complex and simply risky. Feelings are schizophrenic and evolve rapidly. I have fallen for someone in one week and then the long term reality check happens the next day and I quickly move on. In contrast, I have also fallen for someone and lived in the fantasy of us working together across the world and building a family in transit. In other words, I wanted the fantasy to become my reality. So in this case, I played the role in this journalist’s fantasy that only went to so far as a few weeks at a time. Looking back, I was never part of his reality.
Yet again I have entered this relationship environment again moving to Kenya and moreover I’m dating another expat working in a different country in East Africa. I don’t have all the answers as to why, how, and where it will go but I do believe that the potential of a relationship to work out long term is possible in my surroundings. Or maybe it’ll happen outside of East Africa. The point is, I still have faith in love or maybe figuring my career out has taken the attention away from the discouraging love affairs that happen living abroad.
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Day Two
I'm living in an apartment that one would dream of having in New York. It's spacious, the furniture is rustic barn style, there is a balcony, and each room besides mine has a bathroom. The kitchen is huge and in the living room is a day bed surrounded by cushy pillows. It almost feels ridiculous to be living in such luxury when relocating to East Africa. It is however wonderful with having spent a few months couch surfing with such great friends in New York and the price is fair. I selected the place based on the roommates, location, and comfort. One roommate is Kenyan and the other American. A nice balance given the intertwined expat community.
After taking a nap, I headed out with the American roommate who showed me how to walk to the nearest 3 malls and where to get good bread, yoga classes, and have a glass of rose on a terrace. This is not the Africa that I had lived in before. But this city is far more cosmopolitan than other city I've been to in Africa and it's my starting point. So after a glass of rose with a friend who I met in Bosnia several years ago, we headed out for Japanese and my udon noodle soup was only a few dollars less than in NYC. Note to self - I will be cooking at home a lot. The grocery stores are very affordable in comparison to any western country as is the wine so I'm set.
After taking a nap, I headed out with the American roommate who showed me how to walk to the nearest 3 malls and where to get good bread, yoga classes, and have a glass of rose on a terrace. This is not the Africa that I had lived in before. But this city is far more cosmopolitan than other city I've been to in Africa and it's my starting point. So after a glass of rose with a friend who I met in Bosnia several years ago, we headed out for Japanese and my udon noodle soup was only a few dollars less than in NYC. Note to self - I will be cooking at home a lot. The grocery stores are very affordable in comparison to any western country as is the wine so I'm set.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
Day One
Day 1:
As predicted, my luggage was overweight. I had prepared for this so instead of paying the $50 for my extra kilos I pulled out a lot of stuff including sausage and cheese and stuff into a backpack I had folded in the suitcase. Off I went half awake with my stinky cheese to London. Upon our arrival all passengers are informed that no cheese or meat products coming into the UK are permitted. I had forgotten of my reorganization of my food goodies and happily proceeded through security to my next gate. The smell though was intensifying but I linked it the Chinese eggroll I had smuggled with me from New Jersey.
At my gate to Nairobi at London’s Heathrow, I checked out the array of passengers heading south – Kenyans, Indians, expat NGO workers, safari goers, gap year teens, awkward businessman, mercenaries, and US military or private security people. I awoke from my daze from commotion happening on the gangway. British body guards running one way, an African man running the other, and then all of them running to the plane. Quickly we were asked to board with the gate agent ignoring the general seating interval policy. A bit delirious from lack of sleep, I forgot about the commotion and quickly settled into my seat. Once the doors of the plane were shut, a large moaning erupted from the back of the plane mixed in with cries of “FUCK,” “FUCK ME,” and “FUCK YOU.” I made worried eyes with the Indian-Kenyan woman sitting next to me who shook her head and said: “deportee.” In the back of the plane was the same Kenyan man from before with 4 British agents struggling to secure him in his seat. The man did not stop crying until we reached cruising altitude level. It was painful to imagine what he was leaving behind in the UK and why he vehemently did not want to return to his country. It was also a major reality check – I have elected to move to a place to improve my life where many leave in search of a better one.
As predicted, my luggage was overweight. I had prepared for this so instead of paying the $50 for my extra kilos I pulled out a lot of stuff including sausage and cheese and stuff into a backpack I had folded in the suitcase. Off I went half awake with my stinky cheese to London. Upon our arrival all passengers are informed that no cheese or meat products coming into the UK are permitted. I had forgotten of my reorganization of my food goodies and happily proceeded through security to my next gate. The smell though was intensifying but I linked it the Chinese eggroll I had smuggled with me from New Jersey.
At my gate to Nairobi at London’s Heathrow, I checked out the array of passengers heading south – Kenyans, Indians, expat NGO workers, safari goers, gap year teens, awkward businessman, mercenaries, and US military or private security people. I awoke from my daze from commotion happening on the gangway. British body guards running one way, an African man running the other, and then all of them running to the plane. Quickly we were asked to board with the gate agent ignoring the general seating interval policy. A bit delirious from lack of sleep, I forgot about the commotion and quickly settled into my seat. Once the doors of the plane were shut, a large moaning erupted from the back of the plane mixed in with cries of “FUCK,” “FUCK ME,” and “FUCK YOU.” I made worried eyes with the Indian-Kenyan woman sitting next to me who shook her head and said: “deportee.” In the back of the plane was the same Kenyan man from before with 4 British agents struggling to secure him in his seat. The man did not stop crying until we reached cruising altitude level. It was painful to imagine what he was leaving behind in the UK and why he vehemently did not want to return to his country. It was also a major reality check – I have elected to move to a place to improve my life where many leave in search of a better one.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
why I'm doing the blog thing
This goal of this blog is to help describe the move that thousands of people before me have made and the thousands more who will leave the comfort of the West to go to Africa without a job or concrete plan. Another goal is to offer to my friends, family, and greater audience, insight into why I'm doing this, what has led me to this point and what I hope to achieve. I also hope that my daily postings from now until May 26, 2011 of my life in East Africa will inspire the imagination of others in similar positions or friends or loved ones who know people that embark on such journeys.
The main reason for my decision to move to Nairobi, Kenya is to build and establish my career in education and international development. The operative connection between building and establishing is committment. As frigthening as the concept is, I am ready to committ to a job longer than 3 months and ready to experience its success. Another main reason for my move is to do some "capacity building" for myself. So this blog will also detail such explorations but will not get lost in soul-seeking babble or philosophical bull about my mediations with love. I might however, include profound meditative moments that occur on the toilet or shower – the two places that have always offered me great solace.
The main reason for my decision to move to Nairobi, Kenya is to build and establish my career in education and international development. The operative connection between building and establishing is committment. As frigthening as the concept is, I am ready to committ to a job longer than 3 months and ready to experience its success. Another main reason for my move is to do some "capacity building" for myself. So this blog will also detail such explorations but will not get lost in soul-seeking babble or philosophical bull about my mediations with love. I might however, include profound meditative moments that occur on the toilet or shower – the two places that have always offered me great solace.
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