Rain, Rain Go Away

We are in the middle of the rainy season here. And what a season it is. Every afternoon we get rains that range from a slight drizzle to a torrential down pour. The entire compound is a mess of mud, soggy grass approaching the level of swamps, slippery sidewalks of slime, and bovine urine run-off. It’s a total mess.

The overflow of the rain was getting so bad at the upper compound that some of the clinicians were in danger of floating away. Or at least their furniture was. Their entire rooms were flooded with water. They were standing in water, cooking in water, their kids were sleeping in water, and some of them had to sleep on tables because they couldn’t sleep on the floor. Luckily, Tom Tucker from Agape, took his tractor and dug large drainage ditches on the sides of the road directly above the compound that re-directed the flow of water away from our Lalmba staff.

Often the rain has gotten so bad that it doesn’t even come down, it assaults you in horizontal sheets of water spikes. The water will bathe your feet as you are trying to sleep inside your room within the confines of your mosquito net. It will shower you as you deposit your dishes in the kitchen sink. It will blow windows open knocking condiments off tables and endangering your precious electronics.

And that’s on a good day.

The other day when the rain was coming down so hard that I ate dinner with my headphones on to mitigate the attack on my eardrums, we had an easy time of it. However, one of Jenifer’s trees fell down onto one of her buildings causing some damage. A papaya tree in front of the Tuckers’ house collapsed and took another tree with it. The tree was dead and so they had to cut it away and now the Tuckers’ entrance looks much sadder without the arborial decoration. And while Jackson was about to eat his dinner, the metal roof on his house blew clean off! Here he was about to enjoy a meal and then suddenly the entire inside of his house is exposed to the elements. He had to rush around like a headless chicken to rescue his furniture and such and place it in another one of his buildings. Now, he has a temporary replacement roof that leaks making his original home more protected from the outside but nevertheless uninhabitable until he can get another iron roof.

There is so much water here that the ground is completely saturated. In the middle of the day when it is dry and 85 degrees, water will still be leaking out of the ground on to the sidewalk trying to find its way to Lake Victoria where it will be welcome. Twice before, there was so much water flowing on the walkway towards our houses outside the cookhouse that we named it the Lalmba River.

When we returned from a trip to Kisii for supplies the other day, the drive from Migori took us almost 2 hours because the road was so overwhelmed by all the water. Numerous bridges were covered with water. One section of the road was entirely submerged in almost a couple feet of water just below our running boards. Daniel, in seventeen years working as a driver for Lalmba, had never ever seen that much water over this section of road. He was not concerned about the many semi-washed away bridges but this sight was definitely a new one on him. Sometimes being the first volunteer at so many things is not what it’s cracked up to be; the possibility of being the first one washed away into the depths of Lake Victoria by a flash flood is not my idea of fun. Stupid rain.

My Animal Fiefdom

As many of you know, the animal kingdom has not been the most kind to me during my stay here. Pigeons climb on my roof scratching away so loudly that I cannot sleep. They try to build nests right outside my window cooing and flapping their wings at dawn. The cat that I bagged and removed to a far away village came back to continue to plague us – granted it took it 3 months to find its way back but the bottomline is that it’s back. Chickens come uninvited into our cookhouse and jump onto our sink and fridge when we try to chase them away. Rabid bats find there way into our homes to hang out and give us the willies. All in all our coexistence has not been that of mutual tolerance.

Not wanting to let these silly creatures get the best of me, I asked Jenifer to get me some PVC pipe from Migori so that I could make a blow gun using the technique I learned from my young friend Devon in Arusha. Jenifer obliged me and I embarked on constructing my instrument of fear. While I was in Arusha our targets were plastic bottles and tree trunks. Consequently, there was no harm in using nails as our blow darts. However, even though I want my sleep uninterrupted by annoying cooing and my meals undisturbed my feline yowling, I am not a sadist wanting to maim these bothersome creatures. So, initially I try to use seeds with paper. But that didn’t work. Then I went back to the nail method. They definitely flew very well and would have been very effective in ridding myself of these pests. But like I said, I wanted a nonlethal method. Finally, I decided to tape wads of paper over the nail part. I tested it on a cow and it worked great! He just snorted and went on his way. Now I could deter my opponents with nondeadly force!

Paul saw my initial success and he created a blow gun for himself also. Currently, between the two of us, any creature threatening to impose itself on our serene existence will receive the full force of our Mizungu wrath. I have successfully pelted chickens, cats, goats, cows, and pigeons. And today, Darcie pointed out that the entire periphery of the cookhouse is free of these terrible animalian menaces. Unfortunately, I did not think I would be so effective and had planned on honing my hunting skills. Now we must start to roam the compound looking for our prey. Such is the life of the great, brown hunter.

Darcie will be writing a companion piece and she will even have pictures (but don’t believe every word she says!) ayearinkenya.blogspot.com

Wedding

This event happened a few weeks ago. Nancy had invited me to her youngest sister’s wedding. Nancy and her family were going to take a cockroach at 6 am on the wedding day to get there. Joseph, who was also invited, and I decided against that ridiculously early departure. We figured we would take a transport from Otho and walk there at a more humane time of day.

We got to Otho around 9:30 am. It’s about an hour walk. We were told that the wedding would begin around 11 am. However, TIA. Through some of the conversation that was around us, Joseph concluded that he should make some phone calls. We discovered that Nancy and Evans were still at their home at Sea Lodge! They hadn’t even left for their own sister’s wedding yet.

So, we decided to save our money and wait for them. The waiting took awhile and a Matatu showed up, and so we decided to use that to get to Lwanda where the wedding was being held. We got there around 11:30 or so. Nothing was going on. The stupid wedding did not start until almost 1:30 pm. Joseph and I just sat there for another two hours. Nancy and Evans didn’t arrive until almost 1 pm.

Then the place got packed. It was so crowded that the ventilation became non-existent. People had crammed themselves outside the windows, stifling any chance for air movement.

Nancy’s Dad showed up with his three wives. Then the awful, loud, boring, repetitive Luo music started up. The groomsmen, the bridesmaids, flower girls, and little usher boys, or whatever they are called, all walked in this slow gait to the rhythm of the music. They would only take a step with each measure. In addition to all the waiting prior to this march of the slowpokes, I had to now sit there and endure this soporific procession to repetitive Luo music.

During this ceremony, I was also stuck with holding a baby. The hall became so crowded that the mother decided to sit on the floor. People were squished so close together that she had little room for holding the baby in the middle of this crowd. Earlier, I had taken some pictures of the baby and the aunt, who I initially thought was the mother, for they made a very picturesque couple. It didn’t mean that I wanted to be stuck with the baby worrying the whole time whether it was going to expel some noxious fluid on me from one of its many orifices. Jeez!

As a result of this unsought-after maternal responsibility that was thrust upon me, Joseph borrowed my camera and became the resident photographer – well 1 of 4 or 5. And he had this cool responsibility shooting pictures and I was stuck there with this little kid. Thankfully, it wasn’t crying. Actually, it started but then I was spared having to console it. I quickly gave it up to the mother.

After the seemingly endless procession finally concluded, the pastor embarked on a ministerial tirade that also felt like it would last forever. It definitely went on for over an hour. Probably, the experience would not have felt so interminable had I understood even a single word. The audience laughed occasionally, and so it seemed that there was some fun to be had.

Eventually, my patience was stretched to its maximum. I had breathed nothing but body odor for four hours, listened to this uninspired music that sounds like every other Luo composition, and endured this inability to move because of this 10 pound baby sitting on me, and so I finally sent a text message to Joseph citing that I was hungry (and I was because I hadn’t eaten anything yet that whole day) and asking when would this thing end.

He and Nancy rescued me. We were first in the food line, and in the end we got lucky and hitched a ride back to Matoso with the hired car Nancy and Evans used to get to the wedding in the first place.

And that, boys and girls, was a traditional Luo Christian wedding.

For those of you who will continue to need your Africa fix, Darcie has also created a blog for their trip out here. The address is ayearinkenya.blogspot.com And you can also subscribe by e-mail.

Enjoy!

KEK

This blog is about Kenyans Exploring Kenya, a trip I decided to join. In my case it would be IEK, pronounced “EEK,” or Indian Exploring Kenya. The main reason for going on this trip was for the experience. It turned out not to be fun, just as I suspected.

At the outset, “African time” struck our departure which actually turned out to be in my favor. Despite having gone to sleep early on Thursday night, I woke up at 6:35 am. Nancy had said that the plan for latest departure would be 6:30 am. No one woke me up. Well, lucky for me “TIA.” We actually did not leave until 8:30 am. I took the back seat with the hope that it would be all to myself. I was right. All the women stayed up front. Their aversion to the bumpy rear was justified. There were numerous occasions when I caught significant air on a bump and crashed down so hard on the seat that I feared further damage to my back. Jeez.

We drove north passed Kisumu. We stopped at Raila Odinga’s house in Bondo. He was not there. His caretakers wouldn’t let us in.

We then drove to his childhood home where his father is buried. There is a museum on the site. It was interesting. I discovered that Old Man Odinga was the first Vice President of Kenya, then jailed by Kenyatta and replaced by Moi. He was also an unsuccessful presidential candidate in 1992. Perhaps, it’s a good thing he didn’t succeed – he died two years later. Or perhaps that’s why he died.

After visiting that site, we drove to Sio Port. It was a harrowing journey. The rain up here was much worse than in the South. The roads were a mess – well, more so than normal, if you can imagine. The mud was so thick and slippery that the whole Big Fish, a vehicle that can comfortably seat 35 people without luggage, would fish tail. Perhaps, the bus was trying to live up to its name. Several times the driver requested that the bus be emptied of half the occupants so that he could drive with a lighter load. The rain had cut so many gouges in the road that I was standing during much of this part of the journey. We would hit bumps so hard that my knees served as shock absorbers for my careening body.

When we finally arrived at Sio Port we ate at a Hotel. I did eat some cereal in the morning before we left, but we ate nothing else until passed 10 pm that night. Then we partied until about 2 am. I danced and got into the music. At one point, the beat lent itself to some Bangra style jumping up and down. In that moment, I was dancing with one of the waitresses who was quite a good dancer. When I had transitioned back to the more subdued gyration, the two of us got a lot of congratulatory whoops, claps, and amused laughter. It was a nice time.

After all that dancing, I had to shower. It was being used in an olfactorally offensive way, while I was cleaning myself off. That was a new experience…

We slept in the restaurant. They moved all the furniture and cleaned the floor of all the mud tracked in. We laid the mattresses down and just slept side, by side, by side.

In the morning, we woke up at 6 am so that the restaurant could prepare to be opened for business. We did very little. The plan was to go to Port Victoria and possibly take a boat to Uganda. Unfortunately, the roads were so bad that the driver decided against that. Consequently, we drove directly to Busia, the Ugandan border town.

Busia was like Sirari (the border town near here between Kenya and Tanzania) except bigger. Lots of trucks going back and forth. We were allowed to cross illegally. Most everybody did some shopping. All the transactions were in Kenyan Shillings and in English for the most part. I took a picture in front of the Ugandan Immigration sign to prove that I can add another country to the list of places I have visited.

Then we drove to Kisumu. The plan was to camp on the beach but that fell through. We did stop by the campsite and hang out. But then we decided to stay at some sort of church institution. They had their own mattresses and a place indoors to stash us. That was nice. It rained so much more that night and I’m very glad that we did not have to camp. The noise on the metal roofs was deafening.

We ate. I asked a lot of different people about how many KEK’s they’ve been on and which was their favorite and which was their worst. It seems that the overall consensus was that this KEK was the worst one. Lucky me.

That evening, I hung out with the women mostly. One of the interesting things about the trip was the loss of the work-related hierarchy. Although it was Marico and Jackson (management) who got rooms at the hotel, overall the relationships between all the Kenyans reverted to a more egalitarian basis. With hat phenomenon was also the assumption of the traditional gender roles – the women cooked and washed the dishes, the men just sat around and ate. Similarly, I dropped the role of medical expert and assumed a posture of meek Mizungu accompanying the Kenyans, completely out of his element. I deferred to everybody else regarding all the decisions and goings on. At one point, I ate a banana on the bus. I didn’t know what to do with the peel, for there were no obvious trash receptacles. Like I said, TIA. I had asked Joseph and after some consideration, he just threw his out the window. I felt uncomfortable with this littering. Eventually, I spotted something that potentially could have been a trash can. As I got up to throw the peel away, Joseph grabbed it from me and tossed it out the window. He told me, “You shouldn’t be so bothered by such a small thing.” Hmmm.

Then that evening, I ate beans and rice in advance of the final preparation of our own food. I liked it, I was hungry, and it was available. However, when the main meal was prepared, I declined a plate citing that I was already full. All the women kind of clucked around me like mother hens and Nancy said, “This kid has to eat something or he’ll be hungry in the morning.” From Medical Director to “this kid” – a funny change in role.

Our last day saw us in the Kenyan National Museum – Kisumu branch. It was small. There were some archaeological artifacts showing some of the old traditional tribal customs and wares. The Luo had and still have a culture of marijuana consumption and they had special pipes for that that are still used. Like the Ibo from Achebe’s book, traditional, communal beer consumption was also practiced. They had a multi-mouthed vessel for that purpose. They also had this exhibit called the Ber Gi Dala – Good [times] in the Home. The staff seemed pretty enthusiastic about showing me the homes of the multiple wives, the role of the different buildings, etc. They kept repeating that this was the traditional Luo homestead. I didn’t understand why they seemed to perceive it as a fact of the past. What I saw is exactly what I see around here. The structures of the animal coop, the granary, the Tukul – all of them are exactly how things are in Matoso. Weird.

It rained like crazy again that night. I escaped the vehicle as quickly as I could. The driver had to hurry to catch me to bid me good bye. Man, what a trip.

The Relief

Last week, I traveled to Kisumu to pick up the new volunteers. The trip there was interesting. Our plan was to leave at 6:30 am because we had to go to Homa Bay to drop off some of the staff. Both Marico and I agreed on this time of departure. However, typical of African time, Marico did not come to the clinic until 7 am and we didn’t leave until after 8 am. TIA (for those of you who have seen Blood Diamond).

I slept for most of the first half of the trip. In fact, we stopped off in Migori to have the brakes adjusted. Apparently, everybody had gotten out of the car to wait while the mechanic jacked up the car and worked on the brakes and they just left me inside. I didn’t even wake up until we stopped in Rongo because the brakes had been tightened too much and were overheating. We pulled over and Peter woke me up by knocking on the window to offer me a warm Coke. I wondered why we were drinking sodas in the middle of our trip. Finally, someone explained to me our recent mechanical misadventures and the reason for our current pit stop. My guess is that that was the first time that the mechanic worked on a car with a sleeping Mizungu inside.

The road to Homa Bay was very bad. When we reached the diocese, I saw a chameleon. Those of you who are familiar with chameleons know that they move in slow motion. The previous chameleon I saw moved so slow that he was stopped. I lay a twig on his back and he didn’t even react. This one was a bit more animated. He would walk in his jerky manner and if I tried to pick him up, he would very slowly turn his head and open his mouth in the most menacing way he could. If I strained my ears, I think I could hear him hiss. His movements were so slow, I was tempted to stick a pebble in his mouth as he tried to ward me off with his frightening chameleon yawn. Eventually, after about 30 minutes, he walked to the curb where he very quickly his underside yellow like the paint. That was cool. Then he climbed a tree and finally disappeared into the leaves, no doubt turning himself the green of his surrounding foliage. It was pretty cool to see a chameleon up close in action – well as action-packed as a chameleon can be, I guess.

Then we drove on a short-cut to Kisumu. We did some errands, meeting with the CDC, shopping at Nakumatt, etc. I stayed at the Nyanza Club. It’s an old colonial hang-out with a swimming pool, clay tennis court, racquetball courts, restaurant, and lodging. It was a nice place. Quiet. The service at the restaurant was lousy. I had to wait 45 minutes for my food. I also had to ask 3 times to get me some stupid water. Thankfully, the food was tasty. In the morning, there was a continental breakfast served. The waitress asked me if I wanted anything from the kitchen. Based on my experience the previous day, I declined. I didn’t want to have to wait until lunch to get my breakfast. Plus, I would miss meeting the new volunteers at the airport.

Marico and I both forgot when the actual arrival time of Paul and Darcie would be. So, we figured we would arrive an hour early and just hang out. Lucky we did, for P&D had already arrived 20 minutes before we got there. Their original flight was scheduled to arrive at 10:30 am but instead in the infinite wisdom of the Kenya Air authorities, they figured it would be better to depart almost 2 hours earlier. Had P&D not arrived obscenely early to the airport to ward off any delays by traffic, they would have indeed missed their flight because they were on-time. In the end, P&D greeted us not the other way around. They waved at us from the outdoor café where they were sitting. Since, I had expected them much later, I was wondering who these people were who were waving at us. Paul walks up to the gate and I ask him, “Are you Paul?” And he replies, “Yes.” That was a bit of a weird introduction. I had imagined something more like being the figure of rescue for these people after their long journey. Instead, they encountered a bewildered and tardy individual. Oh well. TIA.

Paul and Darcie are a great pair. They have good ideas and are settling in well. H&M were excited to be part of P&D’s in-country orientation, as they have not done anything like that in many decades. It was fun having all 5 of the Mizungus at the dinner table.

Well, now H&M have left for the States. I dropped them off in Musoma yesterday. It will be the 3 of us workers now. Already, the transition seems to be working well. So well, that P&D are in the clinic and I have the opportunity to write this blog. Already the closing signs of this chapter in my life are appearing. It will be an interesting denouement.