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.
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