The End

And here we are, with one final and overdue blog post.

The morning after returning from the Rift Valley, I flew to the Kenyan coast. There Rose had a friend in Watamu who I'd stay with for three nights. Watamu is a town on a gorgeous stretch of beach, and Rose's friend owns a yoga retreat center and hotel called Watamu Treehouse. Both Watamu and the Treehouse were incredible.

I could not have imagined a more picture-perfect way to end my gap year. I spent three days swimming, running, kayaking, snorkeling, relaxing, and eating delicious (and healthy!) food. I was put up in the Honeymoon room all by myself, complete with towels in heart shapes on my bed. The Treehouse has an open-air design and is built in and above the tree canopy, meaning fabulous views in all directions and constant breezes. Everything was beautiful.

One view of the Treehouse.

I then returned to Nairobi for a night, said goodbyes to the family, and repacked my entire backpack one more time.

The next morning I headed to the school where I'd taught in Nairobi. I had promised all the kids that if I was back in town while school was in session, I'd visit them. Two teachers knew I'd be by for a visit, and so the kids were told that I was coming. Unfortunately, they all thought that I was returning to be their teacher. They were quite bummed when I could only stay an hour, as I was leaving that afternoon to fly back to the US.

Upon arrival in Dubai after my first flight, I was told that my second flight was scheduled to depart in two days. I about burst into tears. However, I handled myself and we got things sorted. I made it onto the 15-hour flight I was supposed to take, and arrived in Washington DC twelve days ago.

As we flew over the United States, I saw housing developments, straight lines, and urban planning. Everything was perfect and organized - not what I'd become accustomed to.  When my cousin picked me up from the airport, I spent a bit trying to figure out which side of the car to get in on.

24 hours after arriving in the US, I found myself driving through downtown DC on errands. I was sort of in disbelief, leaning my neck out the window to look at the buildings, the people, the lifestyle, while trying hard not to crash. Unlike in Africa, there are so many driving rules in the US; actual rules of the road to think about, rather than focusing on cows and potholes and insane traffic. While I didn't drive myself on public roads in Africa, I always had the sense that people simply got themselves from Point A to Point B, in whatever way they could manage. They drove and hoped it worked out. I don't think I ever saw a stop sign.

After my time in Maryland with family, I hopped on a bus and headed up to New York City to catch my return flight from Israel back home. When I got off the bus in the middle of New York, everything was crazy. New York probably isn't the best city to visit four days after returning from months in Africa. I did not quite know what to do with myself.

I did get to thoroughly enjoy New York, though, all while sitting inside the airplane at the gate for almost six hours, due to terrible weather on the East Coast. Mom thought it was hugely ironic that I encountered this transportation issue as soon as I was back in the US. Finally, I made it home.

I've now been home a week. I overlapped with Jeremy for all of 32 hours before he headed out west to begin his bike trip. Their trip blog (https://lifeontwowheels2015.wordpress.com/) is absolutely fantastic.

Because I anticipate this being my last blog post, I'll try a bit for some sort of sentimental summary of my gap year.

Nine months ago I had absolutely no idea where I'd find myself in the world, who I'd be with, or what I'd be doing on my gap year. And this uncertainty despite months and months of research and planning. But this year has been crazy and wonderful, and it all came together in some way or another.

I've experienced, I've changed, I've grown, I've seen. I've formed perspectives and had eye-opening encounters. I've made wonderful friends from six different continents around the world.

It was really good. And I definitely have yet to fully process.

A few (random) highlights, some previously mentioned, some not, in no particular order:

Not sure how many times I may have
accidentally gotten married this year.

- I became best friends with the most fantastic 4 and 5-year-olds.
- I tried loads of food, including a confusing number of banana-related fruits in Honduras and tasteless maize meal cooked with water in Kenya.
- I picked up a bit of an English accent, mostly just to communicate with everyone I encountered in Africa.
- I traveled on public buses so full that my back was pressed against the door of the bus.
- I slept in a cottage surrounded by a herd of wildebeest.
- I visited Israel while the country was green (and snowing) and hiked in the north, missing "stray missiles" in the area by one day.
- I timed my showers right for a month so that I could watch the sun set on Lake Malawi from my open air shower.
- I acted out the parts of a flower with an amused sixth grade science class.
- I made 60 foam reindeer antlers and carried out part of a Christmas pageant.
- I went for a beautiful night run along the Mediterranean Sea.
- I filled an entire journal with writing about my time abroad.
- I found the best mandazzi in Malawi.

I'm absolutely thrilled that I took this gap year, especially with all its ups and downs.

I am still planning to attend Carleton College, beginning in September, and I am really looking forward to that. And I promise not to be the girl who only ever talks about her gap year and nothing else.

Thank you all so much for your support this year. It really has meant the world to me.

Half-Week in Maasai Land

This past Monday morning I went to the last organization, MANDO Maasai, with which I would be volunteering on my gap year. Here's what I thought was going to happen: we would drive to the Rift Valley, stay in some rental cottages there for a week, and interview students at local schools in the hopes of securing them international sponsors.

Here's what actually happened.

I met the director of MANDO on Monday morning, assuming we'd depart quite promptly. There was one other volunteer also around. Upon initial conversation, I learned that I'd only be volunteering with them until Thursday, when we'd come back to Nairobi. That was the first, tiny bump in the road. By afternoon, we found out that the organization's car needed to be sold that day because MANDO could no longer afford payments on it. That meant that we didn't have a way of getting to the Rift Valley - a substantially larger bump.

After a few high-stress hours, it was arranged that a man from the town where we were going would drive us down. By the time MANDO's car was sold and we were on the road, it was after 6pm, meaning darkness, rain, and heavy traffic. To put it mildly, Kenyan roads are not real fun. Anyway, we didn't make it to the Rift Valley. Instead we spent the night at a hostel where it was quite evident that several locks had been ripped off the door of my room.

With the intention of getting quickly to the Rift Valley to begin work on our projects, we got up early on Tuesday morning, only to learn that the car and the friend who had driven us were no longer around. He'd had to leave early for his village. The new plan was to wait for a hired driver to come back with the same car to take us to our destination. The driver eventually arrived at 10:30am.

The roads were so potholed that it didn't make any sense for them to even be paved. Here we were, driving a normal, economy sized car, in a part of the country that no one should really attempt without four-wheel drive. The combination of potholes and a full canister of petrol sloshing around in the hatchback trunk made for a fairly unpleasant ride. When we finally arrived in the Rift Valley, we began to make our way to the first village we'd visit. Unfortunately, the road was covered in sand, and, lacking four-wheel drive, we were forced to find an alternate route. As we began driving down another road, we found a river. "This wasn't here yesterday," we were told, as we all stood staring at high water. So again, we turned around, making our way slower than a slow walking pace.

Long story short, after several hours of driving through bushland, we arrived at a primary school. There we talked with kids and saw the school. Having been visited previously by foreigners and MANDO, the kids were quick to ask for sweets. When we explained that we had not brought sweets, they asked what we were going to give them. Hearing that we weren't planning on giving them anything, the children questioned why we didn't want to help them.

Soon it was time to go, which again meant the car. It also meant driving down an extremely rocky hill. When we finally made it down, we were brought to see a family compound. The family's goats were around for milking time. One of the daughters tried to convince me to milk the goat - I didn't go for that.

Back in the car, we drove to another compound for dinner. The kitchen was a small enclosed hut, and the smoke from the wood fire was enough to bring tears while we helped prepare food during the next four hours. There, somebody tried to put a goat in my lap. I simply did not know what to do - how does one even hold a goat?

When we finally arrived at another compound, the very upscale home where we'd spend the night, the other volunteer and I were shown to our room, which contained two beds and no bedding. This is probably a good time to mention that there is no electricity or running water in the area. There are some solar lights and solar panels, but on the whole, not much. And none of the aforementioned in the home where we were staying. There was also no toilet.

Wednesday morning we awoke to go to our eating place (the compound where we'd eaten supper,) before we'd head off to school to conduct our first interviews. Unfortunately, when we got up, the MANDO director told us that the car had no oil in it, that he had no idea how that could have possibly happened. Another sizable bump. We'd have to figure out another means of transportation.

We walked to get breakfast, then boarded motorbikes to head up the hill to the school. There I was, hanging for dear life onto the back of a motorbike, as we raced across a rocky road in the Rift Valley. It was terrifying. After the 20+ minute ride, I had blisters on my fingers from gripping the bike.

We visited the same school as the previous day and, after much discussion, began to interview students. It was not easy. For one, the students had never before been interviewed, much less by a foreigner. Nor had they ever really talked about themselves at all - that's just not really practiced in school here. So trying to learn their life stories was not simple. After several hours of working hard with the students, we left the school. Still lacking oil for the car, we had to get back onto motor bikes.

I don't know if this second driver was way worse than my morning driver, or if it had something to do with going downhill, but on this ride I genuinely feared for my life. Clutching the bike during the first minute on the road led to my finger blisters painfully popping. We made a quick stop and my driver exchanged an air pump with another driver, which he then proceeded to hand to me. When he began driving again, I realized it had become my job to hold this pump while I clung to the bike. By the time we arrived at the next school,  I was very much a wreck.

More interviews conducted at the second school. Culturally (as I learned throughout the trip,) the Maasai are incomparable to anything I've encountered. Some of the students told us about living in family compounds with their father's six other wives. Other students spend their holiday breaks taking cows to graze, leaving home alone for three weeks at a time. Other families only have five cows to their name, an unbelievably small number for a Maasai.

After a long while, we walked to someone's house for tea. And when it began pouring rain as we attempted to leave, we stayed. So the three of us - the MANDO director, the other volunteer, and I - were sitting at this little table inside a home, with a dozen children just standing and staring at the white visitors. Eventually the kids got up the nerve to touch my hair. My guess is that there were probably at least 14 pairs of hands on my head over the course of that hour. After stroking my white and hairy arms, the kids also wanted to kiss my cheeks. Between all the kissing and stroking (by children who had been milking goats moments before,) I have to say I was pretty proud of Germophobe Eliza.

Finally leaving the compound, it was dark out, as well as muddy from the rain. Since there are no lights, it was extremely difficult to see anything as we made our way on a long walk through bushland. As we neared the compound where we'd eat dinner, we ran into the owner of the car walking along the path towards us. He was carrying car oil.

Thursday morning I asked whether or not we'd be taking the car to breakfast. I was told that it had forgotten to pick us up, so we'd be walking. Mind you, I had my very full huge backpack with me, which is always loads of fun to lug around. Upon arrival at the compound, the mother asked us where the car was. Apparently it had gone to pick us up.

After breakfast, we headed up the hill into town. This time it took the car an hour to get to town, just because of how rocky the roads are. Maybe that gives you a sense of my 20-minute motor bike ride to the same location.

In town it was market day. When we asked about the market and whether or not it sold basically everything, we were told, "Just mostly cows."

MANDO Maasai is also working on women empowerment projects, and one aspect of this is helping women from the community apply for Kiva loans. So after interviewing one woman extensively about the business that she wants to start, the other volunteer went off to do a second interview, and I decided I couldn't sit through another hour and a half of questions about profit and revenue. I did however, learn, in that time, that were I to be married off to a Maasai, I'd be worth four cows and one million Kenyan shillings, a high price due to my education and status as a former teacher in Nairobi.

Anyway, I went to the cow market. I guess it was still goat market time, rather than cow market time. But still, I quite enjoyed it. The Maasai culture focuses a lot on cows - they believe that when their people came down from the sky, they came down with all the cows on earth. This means they believe that every cow in the world belongs to them, which can create issue on occasion.

We were supposed to leave for Nairobi after lunch, so as to make it back by dark. But apparently the MANDO director's family was on their way to us, so that they could all come back to the city as well. Recalling the nausea of the drive to the Rift Valley, my stomach turned at the idea of three more people inside our vehicle.

While waiting for the family members, I spotted a group of Maasai warriors - 13-year old boys undergoing a two-year cultural training together that includes their circumcision. They wear red cloth and spread red dirt on their hair and on their limbs. Because I have a photo of approximately 8-month-old Eliza being held by several Maasai warriors, I asked the boys if I could take a picture of them. They weren't real interested in that idea, and instead asked if they could spread the red dirt on me. I agreed with only the tiniest and uncharacteristic bit of hesitation.

The warriors pulled out a hot cocoa container, grabbed a glob of paste, and smeared it onto my arm. After prompting, I rubbed it around. All of a sudden I smelled something. "Is that cow?" Well, it turns out it was cow fat, mixed with red soil. Still not sure how I'd missed asking what I was smearing on my body before doing so. Fortunately, after photos, I had wet wipes.

Eventually we found out that the director's family was not, in fact, coming. So we got in the car and finally onto the road. After painstakingly heading back down the hill, we drove for a bit, and came to the opposite side of the flooded river that had originally blocked us on Monday. Instead of taking the same three-hour detour around it, we opted to drive through what was now a muddy swamp. We all slid out of the car and our little vehicle made it across.

Then it dawned on me that we, too, had to get across the swamp. An older Maasai man was assigned the job of assuring I crossed safely. Wearing my Converse and full-length skirt, I crossed the river, the man patiently supporting me the entire way. Neither of us could understand the other's language, but by the time we had crossed all three stretches of water, I'm pretty sure we may have been married.

Finally we were on the road. By this point it was once again getting dark and beginning to rain. We made it out of the Rift Valley, encountering a giraffe ambling across the road in the darkness, and into Nairobi.

Those were my three days with the Maasai.

A City in East Africa

For various reasons, I decided to cut my time at Sadili short. It was good, it was fun, and it was time to go. On an ending note: the people were wonderful and genuine, my shower never became functional, and I saw so much in cultural differences.

When we did finally head into the Kibera slum to lead Girl Power Clubs, I was a bit bummed by the reality of these sessions. However, the girls were so impressed with my hair, coming up behind me to lift, stroke, and pull at it. I soon found out from one of the interns that they were intently trying to determine whether or not my hair was a weave.

Friday night my building-mate and I decided to have one last dinner together, before I departed. There’s a food delivery service in Nairobi, which I had used once before (extremely successfully,) and so we opted to order in for our meal. Searching through the limited restaurants delivering to our area, we finally decided we’d just get pizza. There was a deal running, so we ordered two large pizzas and sat down to await our food. It took four-and-a-half hours to arrive.

Every now and then I have these moments where I remember – with both excitement and incredulity – that I’m in Africa. Sometimes it’s while bouncing along in a Land Rover on ranch land, other times while brushing against moving cars when crossing streets jammed with traffic. Still other moments of mango juice running down my face and hands, or of monkeys with red eyes swinging from laundry on the clothesline.

But then there are moments when I remember, laughing a bit reluctantly, that I’m in Africa. Like when pizza takes four-and-a-half hours to be delivered. Or when rain mists down upon me in my bedroom during a particularly intense thunderstorm. Or when I realize just how much vendors are raising prices on me, due to both my own lack of knowledge, as well as the color of my skin.

Kenya is a fairly developed country, especially in comparison with many of its regional neighbors. Nairobi is a big, bustling city. Traffic is almost always horrendous, with 20-minute trips sometimes taking two hours. There are very upscale malls around the city, and anything I’d want to buy at home is available here. It’s easy to forget that I’m in East Africa.

But then there are those moments, wonderful and real and grounding.

I spent last weekend in town – a change of pace. I bargained and bargained for hours in the market, trying to buy things to bring home. I then treated myself to a (real!) iced mocha, and, coffee in tow, began to crisscross town to find and purchase fabric. There were people everywhere, working and running weekend errands. And then there was I, as usual, the mzungu trying to appear as though she knew where she was going.

It was a great weekend; complete with two Sadili interns showing me around town and the three of us visiting the Kenyatta International Conference Center that is topped by a helipad 33 stories in the air. I was prepared for the view to be fairly low-key  – after all, I’ve seen New York City from the Empire State Building. But it was completely beautiful, providing a 360-degree view of Nairobi, mountains and farms and plains visible in the distance. It was the highest up in the air that either intern had ever been in their lives.

This weekend I’m doing the exact opposite of town. I’m back at a ranch outside of Nairobi – the first ranch I visited in Kenya and wrote about. Here, there is expansive land, and animals number hundreds of times higher than humans.

It’s hard to believe that I’m in Kenya. Not just because Nairobi is so much of a city, but just because I’ve spent so long waiting to come to Africa. Whether it’s teenage girls tugging at my hair, camels being led along park paths, midnight samosa purchases, gazelles bounding across wooded savannah, fresh-squeezed sugarcane juice stands, or children turning backflips in the road, Nairobi is where I am. And it’s like nowhere I’ve been ever before.

I have just over a week left on this continent. I’ll spend next week in the Rift Valley, a part of Kenya new to me, and I’ll be working with the Maasai tribe. I’m counting down the days until home, but I’m also so looking forward to what this last week will bring.

I Don't Blend In

A local school at Sadili for rugby practice.

I currently live on a continent where I am very definitely a minority in the population. Not only am I a minority on the continent, or in the country or city, but as I mentioned in a different post, I'm the only white person at Sadili or in the neighborhood. Sadili is located in a very middle-class Kenyan area, and as such, there isn't much reason for white people to be around - white people tend to frequent the upper class communities while maybe occasionally visiting or providing aid to the poorest neighborhoods. This means that every time I leave our compound, I get loads of stares. People seem to be more surprised to see me here than they are to see me in Kibera.

The week began at Sadili with no Wi-Fi. For me, that basically meant that there wasn't a whole lot I could work on - I'm social media captaining, remember? So internet is sort of essential. But by Monday night Wi-Fi had magically reappeared, and all was good.

I'd been told that the Girl Power Clubs would resume this week, coinciding with the return to school from break. I guess I forgot the reality of the pace of things here - immediately starting something up doesn't seem to happen much. Instead of leading Girl Power sessions every afternoon, we went to Kibera and attempted to pick up paperwork from our partner schools (who no longer had the forms.)

I guess we'll start Girl Power next week.

View from the roof of my building.

I'm really happy, though, with being here. I love that I have my own room, my own space, my own time. I love that I have a schedule, and that into that schedule fits time in the gym. It's a much more professional work environment than I've been a part of in a long time - lots of sitting, lots of time in an office, lots of computer usage. It's not at all like being on my toes constantly, covered in dust and other people's sweat and saliva, while working with kids. It's not that I'm thrilled about the sitting aspect of working here, rather it's the total change in activity and day-to-day lifestyle that I'm enjoying.

Last year, my co-captain and I started a winter training program to better prepare our spring league ultimate frisbee team. One of the key elements of this indoor training was Insanity workouts, an intense, incredibly fast-paced workout video series. We absolutely loved it. I was, without fail, completely sore for at least two days after every Insanity session.

When I heard that three nights a week there is a group Insanity class at Sadili, I knew I had to at least try it. I promised the instructor (who is also the personal trainer here,) that I'd attend, and that if I wasn't sore the next day I'd be bummed. He laughed and agreed, telling me that he, too, hoped I'd be sore.

Well, let me tell you. Insanity in Kenya, or at least at Sadili, is different. We didn't use the video, which was fine. Except for I was the most fit participant in the room (which, after a year of very little exercise and a lot of weight-gain isn't saying much.) The first 15 minutes of the class were the crazy Insanity that I'm used to, but beyond that, things mostly went in a short-interval strength training direction. All in all, I had a good time. But, unfortunately, I did not wake up real sore on Thursday morning.

After the Insanity workout, I finally acknowledged that I have an injured rotator cuff. I think it has something to do with my lack of coordination in sports, coupled with a family game of pool volleyball last summer in the Dominican Republic that ended in a partially dislocated shoulder. Anyway, I guess one of the perks of living and working at a sports center is that I'm buddies with the personal trainer. So now I'm trying to work with him to restrengthen the muscles in my shoulder, so that my rotator cuff can actually function effectively. I've been working out every day, but I'm now not allowed to do heavy lifting - a bummer in a gym with only weight equipment. I do realize, though, that if I don't fix this soon, it's going to be a problem when I finally get home and back to playing ultimate frisbee.

I'm realizing how imminent my return is - less than 2.5 weeks and I'll be back in the States. I'm not sure how I'm going to feel about the sudden lack of public attention. In Israel, Josh and I were so thrilled every time people assumed that we were Israeli. We loved that we weren't completely obvious tourists. But since coming to Africa almost four months ago, there's been no chance at blending in. I simply don't match.

My favorite mango stand.

My favorite reactions are the little kids whose jaws just plain drop open at the sight of me, and are stunned speechless. I also like the kids who begin grinning from ear to ear as soon as I smile or wave in return. Or the young boys who tell me to "Look!" at them while they perform backflips for me in the road.

Sometimes, when I'm in an extra fun mood, I like to mess with the kids a bit instead of just waving or responding to their greetings. Sometimes I'll point or stare straight back at them. Yesterday, as I was walking home from the supermarket, there were these three little 5-year-olds on the street next to the Sadili compound. The first one saw me and, wide-eyed, announced "Mzungu!" to his friends. I let my jaw drop and I stared directly back at him as I continued to walk towards them. Well, I guess my expression and mock shock were a bit too convincing. And apparently, fairly terrifying to this kid, who immediately started running away, screaming mildly. As soon as I saw this, I abandoned the expression and broke into a huge smile. All four of us shared a great laugh as I continued to smile and wave at them while I rounded the corner. I guess I'll try not to scare kids anymore.

It's been interesting to be on a continent where I'm clearly a spectacle. In Central America it was evident that I was a foreign species, but I was able to blend in a tiny bit more, helped immensely by my fluent Spanish. But here, there's no chance to be mistaken for anything but a white person, and that's made clear to me every time I leave my home. I can't yet say whether or not I'll miss the attention - will I miss being greeted and stared at everywhere I go? Will I miss prices growing exponentially when I enter a market? Will I miss spontaneous conversations with strangers? Will I miss the excitement and joy on small faces that spot me? 

One thing I can say is that in an environment where almost everyone I meet wants to interact with me, I've definitely become more outgoing. 

Shameless Promotion of My Little Brother

This post won't focus on me or what I'm up to. Instead it will be (relatively) short and sweet, and it will be (mostly) about my little brother.

Backpacking during the summer of 2013. 

Since I left home eight months ago, Jeremy has grown so much, both personally and vertically. I thought that the two of us always shared a passion for nature and for the environment, but after a semester at Conserve School, Jeremy has found more true passion in that than I imagined possible. He's has also become independent, focused and determined, and he knows who he is. 

He's much cooler than I ever realized. 

Jeremy has plain grown up. It's hard for me that I haven't been around for these transformations, but I am endlessly proud of him. And I'm so inspired by all that he's doing.

I've been so lucky to have had these past eight months to travel, explore, volunteer, and be independent. I, too, have grown immensely. And I'm so grateful for each opportunity I've had.

Now Jeremy is ready to take on his own journey. Every single time that I've Skyped with him over the last three months, Jeremy has talked on and on about a bike trip he's planning. He messaged me on Facebook one afternoon, so excited at having finally purchased maps for this trip. He has literally spent more than three months planning this adventure, dreaming about it, talking about, and now training for it. He has put hours and hours and hours into making this idea become a reality. It's exciting. 

But travel is way expensive. I've been able to make my gap year possible through savings, but mostly though working two jobs this past summer, for a total of 53 hours a week. It's not easy. 

With Jeremy's dream now becoming more and more tangible, he's realized how much it is going to cost. That's why he's asking for support.

Please at least visit Jeremy's (and his biking buddy, Espoir's,) Indiegogo fundraising page. They have less than a month to reach their funding goal, and are off to a good start. Please consider supporting them. Jeremy is truly committed to this trip, and I want so much to see it happen.

Should Jeremy and Espoir be able to afford the trip, they will be regularly keeping a blog. The end of my blogging will coincide nicely with the time that Jeremy's will begin. Jeremy is a wonderful writer, and I truly can't wait to hear about his adventures.

Link to the fundraiser: https://life.indiegogo.com/fundraisers/life-on-two-wheels-1400-miles-to-teen-empowerment.

T - One Month

Monday morning I moved from Rose's home in one part of Nairobi, to Sadili Oval Sports Center in another part of Nairobi. If all goes according to (very last-minute) plan, I'll spend the last month of my gap year volunteering here.

Sadili is an organization aimed at empowering disadvantaged youth in Kenya through sports. They work mostly with communities in Kibera, Africa's largest urban slum, a ten minute walk from the sports compound. Through paying members and customers from around Nairobi who use the sports facilities, Sadili draws funding for their free youth programs. 

So far it sounds like I'll be involved with pretty different stuff than what I've done over the last eight months. Sadili runs an initiative called Girl Power Clubs. There are dozens of Girl Power Clubs around Kenya, four of which are located in Kibera. These weekly clubs provide a platform for life skills coaching and leadership training, and will be the focus of my month of volunteering.

Every afternoon, I will go to one of the seven schools Girl Power partners with in Nairobi. I will assist the club with the life skills lessons, but I will also be working on photo and video documentation of our project, as well as telling the girls' stories through photography and writing. I will be social media captaining all of Sadili - from the sports center to the Girl Power initiatives to the youth sports programs. I will be working on publicity, awareness, and support for our projects. And lastly, I'll be training other staff to continue what I've started once I've gone. 

It all sounds good and well and pretty solid. However, I'm fully aware that everything may change or go nothing as planned. I've been volunteering in Africa long enough to know that that's okay. We'll see what happens. 

Tuesday we went to Kibera to see the location of the schools where we will be working. I have to admit, I really enjoyed myself. I've seen poverty before, so the slum didn't present the shock that some people might anticipate. My favorite part of Kibera, despite the immense poverty everywhere, was all of the life and energy. There was business and commerce and conversation and play. I didn't find it to be a community depressed by poverty, and that's why I so enjoyed being there.

As a side note, we've been warned to always wear closed-toed shoes in the slum to prevent contraction of diseases and infections. I like to think that Germophobe Eliza has come a long way since discovering no soap at school in Honduras. Even my immune system has grown this year - I have yet to get sick at all in 2015. But I am definitely wondering (a bit anxiously) what I might become exposed to while working in Kibera. I'll just keep taking my probiotics, crossing my fingers, and carrying hand sanitizer. Regardless of germs, I think it will be extremely interesting working with the girls each day.

In terms of other updating, I now live at Sadili. The compound is huge, and proportionally, very empty of people. To my disappointment, there are no cardio machines, and one lap on the track is 0.1 miles. Oh well, I'll get great at strength training. I live with one other person in an entire building. I have my own room with two beds, a mini-fridge, and a bathroom (my shower does not work, as water literally just doesn't come out of it.) And since there is a big attic crawl space vent completely open in my wall and I just keep waiting for someone or something to appear, I've taken to locking my laptop inside the unplugged mini-fridge. It was a good solution until Tuesday, when I bought yoghurt. Then I had to decide whether to prioritize yoghurt or laptop, and in the end, I used the fridge for neither. 

Everyone at Sadili - all staff, all six of the new interns (they arrived a week before I did,) and the other guy in my building - is so incredibly nice. Upon arrival here, I suddenly became very outgoing, which has made everyone even more friendly. I am the only non-Kenyan person that I've seen either in Sadili or in the neighborhood. This means lots of stares, though no more than I've become accustomed to.

This week has been one of prep for the interns and the Girl Power team. All public schools resume for Term Two on Monday, and next week we'll begin working with the Girl Power Clubs. I have the feeling that I have no idea what's really coming. 

One Piece of Africa

We just returned from a long weekend in Laikipia, an area just north of the Kenyan Equator and in the shadow of Mount Kenya. Rose has a friend with an enormous piece of land out there. It’s basically a private game reserve that doubles as a sheep and cattle ranch. I don’t know how to describe the size of this piece of property, except by saying that it includes an entire set of hills, several valleys, and about 3,500 zebra. You can drive for hours on end and still not cross half the property.

It’s absolutely enormous.

Like I said, it has hills and valleys. And plains and forests and meadows and cliffs. It has dams and cattle pens and houses and barns. It has roads and paths and electric fences. And it has giraffes, elephants, zebras, lions, antelopes, gazelles, impalas, baboons, leopards, cheetahs, buffalos, monkeys, warthogs. You name an east African animal, and my guess is that it might be there. Except for hippos and rhinos, I think.

I saw lots of animals. And it was so cool hiking through the hills alongside them. To my disappointment, we didn’t see any big cats while we were out there. Though we did see very fresh lion prints, and we then proceeded to track the lion on foot along with our guide and our ranger. We did not find it.

There was a massive herd of elephants in the valley near the main house. The first day we saw them from the hill overlooking a dam. The second day we saw them crossing the plains through the valley. The third day we hiked into the valley to see them up close. Now, when I heard that we were going to see the elephants, I figured we would see them actually up close. I did not realize how much of a threat elephants can pose to humans. I guess they like to charge and attack, if people get too near. So our getting close to the elephants meant walking along, but always making sure to keep a distance of at least half a football field. I was a bit bummed. But being able to see the elephants as they ambled along, tusks flashing, trunks searching for food, ears flapping – we were close enough to see that.

There were so many elephants crossing the valley that we kept having to change course. Elephants were on all sides, and somehow we were in the middle. It didn’t help that most of them had baby elephants with them, meaning that the mommas would be even more aggressive. Eventually we scaled a big hill in order to get out of the way. I thought it was great, and, good naïve American that I am, I was not scared in the slightest. I guess I’ll be much more cautious of elephants in my future.

The whole fact that this all actually exists is sort of unbelievable. There were animals everywhere, simply living in this immense space, and I was able to visit. If I had dared to imagine anything about some sort of American-idealized Africa before coming here, this is the sort of thing I might have visualized. And it’s real. Yet at the same time, it’s a private piece of property that I was unusually lucky to have had the chance to visit. So many people here, especially Africans, never have anything like this opportunity. So while yes, this is Africa and this is beautiful, it’s not what Africa is. It’s a piece – not a small piece – but definitely just a piece.

I'm learning just how much Africa is in every way. That's why I want to be here.

#springbreak2k15

Two things I’ve learned in Malawi, 1) travel is always interesting, 2) public transportation is always interesting.

Over Easter weekend, two volunteers and I decided to take a spring break trip. Thursday morning, Erin (from England) and Saskia (from Germany) and I left for the Mushroom Farm in Livingstonia. Side-note: the Mushroom Farm isn’t what it sounds like – it’s just an eco-lodge in the mountains overlooking Lake Malawi.

Context for this blog post: Erin and Saskia love mocking the American idea of wild spring breaks, so we decided we’d have our own, African, spring break experience. Full of adventure and selfies and fun.

We had intended to leave early on Thursday morning, but when we awoke, it was raining crazy-hard. Instead we had an enormous breakfast while we waited out the rain. Eventually it slowed enough for us to walk to town, we got in a shared taxi, and headed to Mzuzu. No marriage proposals on this ride. However, Erin and I were in the backseat, right next to the trunk of the van, where was stored a cardboard box full of fresh fish. That made for a pleasant ride.

After a stop at the grocery store and at an ATM (which worked, surprise!) we went to get a minibus up to northern Malawi. As we approached the minibus area, someone asked us if we were going to Livingstonia, we replied that we were, and he motioned us to jump into the minibus that was about to depart. We looked at the full bus and said, “Um, I don’t think so. I don’t think there’s any room for us.” He shook his head and told us we’d all be seated together in the back row. So we got in. We were in the row with another man, our knees pressed against the seats in front of us, all our bags and things on our laps, our hips jammed against one another. It was very comfortable.

Almost as soon as we started driving, we stopped again to pick up more people. I was reminded of travel in Honduras. There was a super sharp piece of metal on the seat digging into my thigh. At one point in the 2.5-hour ride, I think I counted 26 people in the minibus, with a minimum of four people in each row.

We got off the minibus at the bottom of the mountain where Mushroom Farm is located. We waited a bit for a truck to go up the mountain, hopped into the back, and began our steep and curvy ascent. Now, there are 18 marked bends in the road up the mountain, with countless others. After Bend 4, our truck broke down. The driver tried to repair it five times, with no success. Just as we were about to get out of the truck and begin walking up the mountain, the driver announced that all was fixed and that we were ready to go. This time, after we rolled a pretty scary distance backwards down the road, the engine kicked in.

Around Bend 10, the truck broke down again. This time the driver told us to all get into the back of a cargo truck in front of us, also heading up the mountain. When we got on, there were already 25 people in the new truck. We were the only white people. The road was curvy, steep, and bumpy, and the driver wanted to make it to the top extremely quickly. Trying to find my phone to take a picture of the situation, I let go of the side of the truck, I immediately body-slammed into the woman next to me, and then slammed in the other direction into Erin. Everyone in the truck was extremely entertained and we were laughing so hard. I got no photo.

Eventually we arrived at Mushroom Farm. I can’t even explain how gorgeous Mushroom Farm is. It’s in the forest; it looks over a valley, a lake, and mountains. On the other side of the lake, the mountains of Tanzania are visible. And because we were there during the rainy season, fog and clouds kept coming into the valley and surrounding our mountain. Breath-taking would be an understatement.

Friday morning we went to Manchewe Falls, the highest waterfall in Malawi, conveniently located a short hike from the Mushroom Farm. After finding the falls and successfully shaking off the boys who wanted to be our guides, we hiked all around and discovered that there were various waterfalls. We think we found the waterfall, but we’re not exactly sure. Farther up the mountain we walked to the actual town of Livingstonia, where Scottish missionaries built a church and a community in the 1890s. It was a bit surreal. There was all this European architecture in the middle of Malawi, surrounded by the typical construction of the country, as well. We finally found the church, which was full of people eating lunch and practicing for Easter.

Saturday morning, Saskia and I went to hike up to Chombe Plateau. It would be a full day hike, and Erin wasn’t feeling great. We had to hire a guide. Almost as soon as we began walking, he led us through someone’s property. A few guys came over to talk to our guide, and it looked like they had dead sparrows in their hands. It took us a moment, but we soon realized that our guide, Thomas, was buying birds from them. He bought three and proceeded to tuck them into his front shirt pocket. We couldn’t believe what was happening, and Saskia and I casually asked him, “Uh, Thomas, did you just buy some birds?” He replied that they were for dinner. I asked if they’d be better if he bought them fresh, at the end of our hike. He laughed and told us that they would still be fresh.

Saskia and I had decided we would hike quickly, so that we would get back to Erin before dark. (Meanwhile, back at Mushroom Farm, it turned out I had accidentally locked Erin in our room, and she really needed to use the bathroom. She called for help and was freed.) So here are Saskia and I, hiking along this road on top of a mountain, and poor Thomas can’t keep up. Eventually we got to a turn in the road and had no idea which way to go. We looked back for Thomas and could not see him. Saskia called his name and we heard, “It’s okay, I’m coming! I bought another bird from a man in the forest!”

The last stretch of the hike to the plateau was a steep, muddy path through  tall grass. We made it up the mountain with some difficulty. But the view at the top was incredible. We ate a lunch of tomatoes, peanuts, and Doritos, took loads of pictures, and began the hike down. Which, I will admit, was full of the two of us tripping and falling down the mountain.

Sunday morning we left Mushroom Farm (after a full breakfast, of course,) and decided we’d hike down the mountain, taking all the shortcuts past the bends. We made it down with not too many muddy falls. The ride back to Nkhata Bay was much less eventful, as we hitched a ride with a friend from Butterfly.

Our spring break trip was so much more fantastically Malawian than any spring break trip I’d ever imagined.

Yet Another Ending

I wrote this post two days ago, and have just now found some internet. Hurrah.

This morning I awoke at 4:57am, finished packing a few things, and set out in the rain with my enormous backpack. I made it into town for the 6am bus heading south along the lakeshore, back to Lilongwe. The bus resembled a city bus, with five uncomfortably falling-apart seats sandwiched into each row, and over the next ten hours the bus became progressively more full of people. I spent the day eating scones and tomatoes (yesterday's preparative purchases,) listening to podcasts, attempting - quite unsuccesfully - to stretch my cramped legs, and staring at the man in the aisle dangling six large fish from one hand.

I’ve been in Malawi for a month. I’ve seen a completely different life pace that can translate to lots of waiting around, but also to a very distinct cultural energy. I've eaten lots and lots of carbs, probably mostly mandazzi, the freshly fried handmade donuts. I've witnessed more amazing sunsets than I’d imagined, and I've learned to use the sunset as a weather predictor - my iPhone weather app does not work without internet, so I've adequately made use of my resources.

Over the past few weeks I worked a lot with the disabled group at Butterfly. My favorite thing about Mondays with the group was their ability to laugh. They honestly spend a significant portion of each meeting just laughing good-naturedly at each other’s disabilities. We had a good time. Their innocence and willingness to learn and love is remarkable. It became so much easier and so much more enjoyable to be with them each week, to the extent that I always looked forward to the group despite how exhausted I knew I’d be when they left. Whether bathing a person in the lake, hiding chocolate Easter eggs, or feeding someone lunch, working alongside these individuals was new to me. I can’t yet word how much this group meant to me while I’ve been here, or how much I learned from them.

Besides our Monday sessions, Saskia (my German friend) and I did home visits for the disabled group members. Along with a translator, we walked through the hills and into nearby villages to meet with families. There we checked on participants who had been absent for a while, or new people to invite to our group. On two visits I was completely blown away by the love and care that the families showed towards their disabled children, given the unimaginable way that many disabled individuals are frequently treated in Malawi. I left these homes feeling truly happy and positive. I know in my head that their road will be so so difficult, but it was beautiful to witness the depth of care in these families.

On a totally different note, something I’ve heard and thought a lot about since coming to Africa is the idea of the poverty mentality. This idea that someone in deep poverty will try to get absolutely as much as they possibly can out of any given situation, whether that situation is foreign aid or trash on the road or a school education. And while yes, I have seen versions of that idea at times here, I’ve also completely seen the flip-side.

At Butterfly, I led Youth Club twice a week for public school kids in the area. We did fun and educational activities, with the aim of giving the kids opportunities that they wouldn’t otherwise have. That not only meant art projects and new games, but also the chance to interact with and learn from people of all different cultures. Two weeks ago we began Youth Club with a drawing activity. We were imagining what the inside of Lake Malawi looks like, underneath the surface of the water. While they drew, I set up field day games. Once I was ready and I’d seen that they were done drawing, I called them over to where I was waiting. I assumed they’d drop everything - games! - maybe they’d pocket a few colored pencils, abandon the materials, and race over.

Later, I walked past the drawing area. There I found a neat stack of drawings alongside three perfectly packaged boxes of pencils. Without ever being asked, these students had spotlessly cleaned up their activity, and every last pencil was still in place. At that moment, any idea that I held of the children of Africa or their poverty mentality was shattered.

So I guess this concept of a poverty mentality - whatever that actually means - is something I’m still working to wrap my head around. Because as we walk down the streets, kids will yell “mzungu, mzungu, give me money!” Or on a particular disabled visit, a mother told me that her family would need a new roof on her house in order to heal her disabled son. But there are also children that I work with who literally don’t even assume that they will get to take their drawings home. 

I knew this before coming to Malawi, but I’m realizing more and more how true it actually is: there is a whole culture here that I haven’t even begun to enter or understand at the surface. And I'm so glad that I've seen enough of it to be able to recognize that observation.

I’ll head back to Kenya tomorrow.

On a fun note, I learned last week that that the tap water in Nkhata Bay (which was also our drinking water) is pumped directly from Lake Malawi. It was super great to realize that I, and most of Malawi, swim, bathe, and wash clothes, in my drinking water.

Oh. And I’m a certified diver now! Also, I went on my African version of spring break last weekend and a blog post on that adventure will likely be coming soon. Stay tuned.