Let me update you on life in Kenya

Let me update you on life in Kenya. Last weekend we went to Mombassa, which is the coast of Kenya. Before we boarded our 14 hour train we spent the day in Niarobi. I visited the bases where the street kids come from and realized the struggle of life on the streets. As we passed out bread and talked with them you could see the lack of hope that life would get better on their faces. When we arrived they tried to hide their drugs but it was too much of a temptation for them for the half hour we spent at each base. Slowly, they would reach into their pockets or down their shirts and pull out their glue bottles. You see, there are not drugs here like there is in America. Drugs like we know are too expensive so their drug of choice is glue mixed with gasoline. This pungent combination is sniffed all day leaving them numb to the world and thier eyes have turned bright yellow from the combination of drugs and malnutrition. I kept seeing ironies all day. The first was that one of the bases was next to a bed factory. In the same glance there were people lying in the street and people making beds.

After we visited the bases we went to Mathari, which is the 2nd biggest slum in all of Africa! There is no contextual reference I could make to put the reality of this place into perspective. We got off the bus and dozens upon dozens of children ran towards us. Some of the children couldn't be more than two and some of the smaller kids were being held by other kids. This mob of children, most with big bellies from starvation, kept following us. I kept looking around to see if I could spot a watchful eye of a parent nearby....but there were none to be found. One little girl in scrappy clothes and barefeet kept holding onto my skirt, trying to keep up with me. We were walking on sharp pieces of trash and rocks (there is no garbage system there) and I couldn't stand to see her walk on it. I carried her the rest of the way and she fell asleep in my arms. I felt like it was the first time she was able to relax in quite a while. Another girl wore a dirty shirt, clearly from America, that said "princess." I couldn't help be disgusted at the irony that this girl was the furthest thing from a princess I had ever seen. Yet, she deserved to me a princess just like any other little girl. I asked Jackden, a teacher at the orphanage who grew up in Mathari, where the parents are. He told them that most live on the streets and a few wait for thier mothers to get home at night from trying to collect food. You see, there is a high rate of divorce in the slums becasue life is so hard. The husband leaves, and the mom is left to try and find food. He said that most of the children wont live and most of the young girls will get raped in the streets at night. It was devestating...almost unbearable. We went inside the house Jackden grew up, a 10ft by 15ft shack with no ventalation. There was one bed, a pile of cushions on one side, and a bowl next to the bed which was the kitchen. The kids sleep on the ground and the parents sleep on bed. There is no poverty in America that is comparable to this.

We boarded the train, which was from 1900 and did have electricty, thankfully. However, I don't know what would have been better, seeing all the cocroaches we slept with or not? I did wake up and see an elephant out my window though! The train passed the most remote villiages and towns. There were huts made out of mud and sticks in the middle of the beautiful brush. Another irony that beauty can be the backdrop of poverty. When the trian would stop, as it often did, the children would emerge out of the bush to stare at the Muzungos. Although they only spoke Swahili I was able to have a pretty humorous game of Simon says with them. We arrived at Mombasa the next morning and took a Matato (a taxi) to Matwapa (the place where we were staying). We found a hostile for 5 dollars a night and let me tell you, I got what I paid for. The place was in the middle of nowhere, probably a 25 minute drive through an abandon dirt road. We all nervously joked on the ride there that the taxi driver was taking us to the middle of nowhere to kill us. When we got to the hostile there was a sign that said "closed till july." Somehow a man appeared and let us in and and told us to stay since we had a revervation. He then disappeared leaving us all to wonder if he was a figment of our imagination. We stayed in huts on the coast of the Indian Ocean without showers. The place was beautiful and in the morning we watched the indigenous fisherman collect fish and even octopus! One woman was beating an octopus on a rock (appearantly that is how you tenderize octopus). We had a relaxing weekend swimming in the ocean and walking along the beach looking at the slave ruins from when the Arabs who would export slaves from the coast. Speaking of Arabs, I had no clue until I was told, that Mobassa was 99% Islamic. The group of 10 Muzungos got some interesting looks all weekend.

We came back on the equivilent of a greyhound bus. The trip was a hot and smelly 10 hours. Each time we would stop the bus would get bombarded with vendors trying to sell us things. Imagine being at a baseball game and every hot dog man is trying to get you to buy something. However, this wasn't a baseball game you want to be at; this is a game between poverty and desperation. Sometimes the bus would stop and I would try to hide so that no one could see that I was white. When we finally got back to the orphange it was quite a relief. I felt like I was home and we were greeted by excited children eager to see us return.

Yesterday, I went to Niarobi with the four other girls and Jackden to get fabric. Jackden teaches the sewing school and they are going to make me a dress so he wanted me to pick out a fabric I wanted. Apparently when we were walking Jackden spotted a mad inside the van and he started running after him. I watched him catch the man who tried to run and drag him back to the car. He told the man to relax, which I though was funny, and that if he found anything missing he would need to give it back. A crowd of hundreds surrounded the van to watch the scene. The man did not take anything because the bag he wanted did not have any money. Jackden told the man to leave and walked him outside of the crowd which was disapointed that there was no drama. But the real suprise came when Jackden said that if he had gotten upset at the man the crowd would have stoned him to death on the streets right there. I was in disbelief but Jackden said that he had seen it happen. Even if the police come, they will let the criminal be stoned. I couldn't imagine people in suits on their way to work picking up a stone and helping to persecute a man who did not tresspass against them personally...especially a petty theft.

Last night I did get to eat a bacon cheese burger and a vanilla milkshake from a place started by Pepperdine students in Niarobi. I don't know if the food was that good, but it tasted like heaven. Hopefully it will hold me over for a few more weeks. It is harder and harder to get hungry for white rice and rotten corn. I haven't gotten sick yet, but keep your fingers crossed. On Friday, I leave for safari! I will email you with updates when I return. The ovens are almost done and I have spent the week teaching different types of cookie recipies. I know this email is long, but I wanted to keep you in the know.
Asante sana (thank you),

Jessica