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.

Masai Mara

Two weekends ago, Hugh and Marty treated me to a trip to the Masai Mara. As our loyal readers know, this trip was snatched from our very fingers when Amy and I were here. Literally on the morning when we were going to pack the car and leave, we heard that “Migori is in war” and that we could not travel. Instead, we spent that weekend playing cards. From watching lions to searching for the queen of hearts. What a let down.

H&M empathized with this disappointment. And as a result, they thought that it would be nice to try to make it up to me by taking me there. Of course, my better half was still missing, teaching French in Indiana. They did explain to me that were it in their power to teleport her across the ocean for our weekend, they would have done so. Alas, our rudimentary African technology fails us again. There was no transporter to facilitate a trip for 2 couples. Rather, it was one couple with a spare wheel. But it was better than nothing. And it was definitely better than nothing.

The road that we take is the one the locals in this area would use. It’s dirt all the way. We drive into Migori and promptly drive out again. It takes us through the Kurya area and into the Transmara which is the Maasai dominated area right outside the park. I realize now that the road conditions to the park and in the park would necessitate longer times of rest for Amy to allow sufficient time to recover from the violent jostling experienced by the bumpy roads. Consequently, despite the assertion of some people that a 3 day visit to the Mara is sufficient, if one wants to thoroughly enjoy the park as well as not create the need for more hip surgery, our original plan of 6 days was indeed wise.

We left at 8:30 am and go to the Mara around 12 pm after buying some supplies in Migori. Our plan was to improvise the whole way. During the week, H&M had tried to reserve lodging. However, their efforts were thwarted by the insistence of the Masai Mara hotels to ensure that their contact numbers are either wrong or unlisted. Therefore, despite many phone calls, we departed for our safari with no knowledge of where we would sleep.

Thankfully, as the Irish would say, and Hugh and Marty being Irish said it, Hugh kissed the blarney stone, i.e. he can talk himself into and out of anything. This ability meant that we were able to stay at the luxurious Kichwa Tembo Tented Camp for a reasonable resident rate – affordable for a 2 night stay, not if one wanted to stay for 6 days. The digs were nice! I have pictures of them that I will post on the web when I get back. Needless to say, comfort and food were not an issue. It’s full board, by the way.

At the camp, they have resident, domesticated warthogs. I think their job is to mow the lawn. In fact, Marty suggested and I agreed that we should get some warthogs for Matoso so that our grounds will forever be groomed. All they do is eat grass and they are otherwise completely benign. Perhaps, they could even guard the place. I concur with Marty that they would have been a great addition to the compound. Unfortunately, litters wouldn’t be born again until August and we were unsuccessful in pinching one from the park. Still, it could be an assignment for the new volunteers - a present for Marty on her arrival, perhaps. I will mention it to them.

The days were full of driving, including the day of our arrival. We enjoyed watching the animals very much. Sitting in the car in the middle of a herd of elephants watching them do their everyday activities is both relaxing and exciting at the same time. We could spend hours just being one other animal in the Mara spending time with everyone else. Granted, we are animals in a metal SUV, eating the stuff that we bring in rather than the grass around us. It’s also a bit exciting because we are indeed in the wilderness. These animals are wild and at one point one of the African elephant females was flapping her ears at us, a sign to us to back off. Hugh promptly obliged by reversing the truck but the herd of elephants was big enough that most of our paths to escape towards the main road were blocked. In fact, the exciting-ness of the particular situation increased when Dad called me on my cell phone. Since I was negligent and didn’t turn it off, it rang. After more than 2 weeks of no communication with each other, as they were in Thailand, I had to whisper, “please call me back in 3 or 4 hours. Bye.” No explanation, nothing. Dad probably wondered what the hell I was up to.

In the early afternoons and evenings, we would enjoy gourmet meals prepared by the hotel. They were very good. Between Amy’s cooking, Marty’s cooking, and the meals at Kichwa Tembo, I gained about 10 pounds since returning to Africa. I guess that fast metabolism of mine is starting to slow down. Oh well, I’ll just have to exercise like everybody else to maintain this wonderful Herculean figure of mine.

In the end, we saw lots of ungulates like gazelles, impalas; giraffes, elephants, hippos; a single crocodile; 3 lionesses; cheetahs including one (it could have been a leopard) trying to chase down a warthog lunch. That was pretty awesome. We were also entertained by some Maasai warrior dancers. That was an interesting spectacle, too.

So, overall it was a great experience. It wasn’t six days in the Mara camping with Amy, but it was nonetheless a wonderful time. We had 2 days in the tented camp as opposed to the one that we had originally reserved. We didn’t get to see a Rhino but now there is a reason to come back.

A Week of Firsts

Well, I have finished my first week of work here. Despite the fact that a separation of 2 ½ months from my family is a long time, it has become clear that it is an extremely short time for the sort of work that we are trying to accomplish here. In just the few days that I have been here, we have had meetings that have unearthed challenges regarding funding, community support, organizational support from other NGO’s and the government, and resources for certain programs. I definitely have my work cut out for me, let alone the new volunteers who are coming in.

On the plus side, the changes that we instituted last year prior to my departure have beared fruit. At one time when seeing more than 20 patients a day was a cumbersome ordeal, we can now see more than 30 without breaking a sweat. In my absence, they even established a new record of 57 patients in one day. And even with that load, their record keeping, data acquisition, and care (I hope) was maintained at a high quality. A very encouraging accomplishment for them and secondarily for me. I am a bit disappointed that I was not here to witness or be a part of that milestone.

As for other firsts, I have established a new record for the “Evil” level on my Sudoku, as well as another top score on Bejeweled for my palm. It’s been almost 2 years since I have even been able to establish any type of high score on that game. Getting the top score was a very pleasant surprise. Similarly, I am the “Snake Master” on my snake game on my cell phone, another position that has evaded me for a long time. And when Joseph and I were doing yoga the other day, I was able to touch my feet in one of the stretches. Alas, I cannot still touch my feet when I do the forward fold. I guess it’s still something to aspire towards.

After finishing Coyote Blue this morning, I can firmly say that Christopher Moore is my favorite author. He is the first and only one to achieve this discintion. Even though others have written masterpieces that I consider my favorite books of all time, and Moore has yet to accomplish such a singular achievement, his opus is so entertaining, educational, insightful, and action-packed that even his inferior books are for me worth a re-read.

In addition, I am now the first volunteer in Kenya to have his own flushing toilet. It’s in my room, no less. I christened it for the first time 2 days ago. And earlier, I took the first shower in my bathroom also.

And most significantly is the accomplishment of two opposing politicians successfully creating a coalition government on a continent renowned for resolving its political issues by trying to liquidate their opponents. One could probably argue that this event is the first occurrence of its kind in recent global history. Had we had such forward thinking in 2000, perhaps we wouldn’t have a quarter-million Iraqi bodies on our national conscience.

But I shall not bring us down on this week of firsts. It should be one for celebrations – big and small. We certainly are happy here, especially for my new high scores.

A Fool’s Departure, A Hero’s Welcome

The day prior to my departure was a melancholic and lazy day. Even the sun felt the pain of our impending separation and decided not to come out the whole day. The night before, we had a great big Indian feast with the chair of Amy’s department and her family. Unfortunately, the combination of rapidly changing weather patterns, the continued challenges at work, and perhaps the overexertion from preparing such a large meal finally got to Amy and she fell sick with a cold. That meant that in addition to the doom and gloom of the day itself, she was sick also. Phooie.

Around 8 pm, I decided to check into my flight. As I was filling out all the online information, it bleeped at me that my flight had already departed and that checking-in was not possible. Obviously, I thought this was a mistake. I fished out my itinerary that was mailed to me and Amy was the first to spot the discrepancy. Jeevan, the bungling fool, was supposed to be on the flight at 1:10 on February 17^th not 1:10 on February 18^th as I had convinced my self. I was trying to check-in to a flight 7 hours after it had left! At the time of the discovery, I should have been cramped into a seat at 35000 feet over the Atlantic on the way to Amsterdam! Wonderful…

There was not much to do that night. Hugh and Marty had already departed for Europe, it was a Sunday and the travel agent could not be contacted. I informed Marc, the overall medical director of the mishap, and we both concluded that whatever pursuable remedy there was would have to be postponed until the next day. I finally relaxed after repeatedly chastising myself and we enjoyed the rest of our extra evening together.

The following day was a rush in the morning. I contacted the travel agent but she wouldn’t arrive in the office until 11:30 m EST. The next flight that would allow me to maintain the original itinerary so that I could travel with H&M to Musoma was going to leave at 1:10 pm that day. So, I ran to the airport, hoping that the agent could pull of a miracle and if that failed perhaps I could talk myself onto the plane. Well, neither thing happened and I was still grounded.

So, we returned home and we enjoyed yet another extra day and night together. Initially, the one travel agent had said that booking me on the flight that I tried to make would cost almost $5000. However, Georgia, the main travel agent we dealt with, was able to re-arrange the whole itinerary so that I would leave on Tuesday and arrive in Musoma on Friday thus allowing me to reach Matoso on Friday also. Despite the SNAFU that I created myself, the itinerary would only be delayed by 2 days. So, if anybody wants to make whatever travel arrangements, it is likely he/she would have an excellent experience with Georgia Terry of James Travel Points (well, you know, good service should be complimented).

The rest of the trip was relatively uneventful. I hung out in Dar. I stayed in a nice hotel. I had one more hot shower before arriving in Matoso. A bit of a pleasant surprise.

The flight to Musoma was pretty cool. It was a prop plane but we cruised at 25000 feet. I was able to see Kilimanjaro, Ngorogoro crater, and the Serengeti plains from the air. Unfortunately, the cloudiness and the dirtiness of the windows prevented me from taking any reasonable photographs. It was neat nonetheless.

I arrived in Musoma, took a taxi to the bus stand and took a matatu to Sirari, a border town where Marico was going to pick me up. The matatu ride was an interesting experience. We crammed 27 people and their luggage into this mini-van that originally was probably meant to seat 8. The trunk was closed with an external lock so that it wouldn’t fly open. Thankfully, the inability for it to close properly ensured that there was proper ventilation in the vehicle. I was crammed in so tightly that I literally could not move any part of my body below my waist except my toes. I’m glad the ride was only 2 hours.

When we reached Sirari around 1 pm, we all jumped out. I walked past one gate to the Tanzania immigration building. I again filled out one of those stupid blue custom forms that I had already filled in at Dar Es Salaam. They stamped my passport. I then walked past another gate. When I passed the gate, I could see the Lalmba vehicle. It was a site for sore eyes. After all this traveling, I finally saw something that represented my home away from home. Jackson and Marico were there to meet me. We embraced – a nice happy reunion. They then lead me to the Kenyan immigration building where I filled out yet another stupid blue form and received a stamp for my efforts. We then happily jumped into the car and drove off to Migori.

In Migori we ate lunch, we talked about the situation in Kenya, we bought a few things and then around 4 pm made our way to Matoso. When we reached it, I saw Joyce walking home from work. We reached the clinic around 4:45 pm and so everybody was heading home. The first words out of her mouth were “Hi! How’s Amy?” So much for the good doctor’s home coming.

However, I did get the hero’s welcome when I got out of the car in the compound. Nancy, Juliana, Jenifer, Prisca all greeted me with big smiles and big hugs. Everybody was very glad to see me and that I had made a successful return trip. Sammy, Isiah, and Daniel also greeted me heartily and embracefully. It was a happy reunion.

Wilkister then came out of the clinic and mentioned that they had some very sick patients. I worked until past 6 pm helping Willis with them. This 15 year old patient was vomiting blood, barely able to walk, and extremely cachectic. He had this liver that reached all the way across his midline and to below his umbilicus. It was huge, hard, nodular, and not a pleasant site. He was certainly going to die and we explained it to the brother telling him that the best course of action is to take the kid home and make him comfortable. That patient would eventually die that evening itself.

The next morning, I was woken up to help suture a kid’s scrotum. He was gored by an unhappy cow who did not like his grazing interrupted. The skin had been ripped and separated such that it revealed the right testicle. Thankfully, there was still skin left to suture together. I was able to successfully do a nerve block of the superficial scrotal nerves and the scrotal branches of the pudendal nerve. I was amazed that it worked so well. I was able to sew everything up so easily that the kid almost fell asleep during the procedure. As Hugh said, when I groggily made my way up to the clinic to assess the situation, “No rest for the wicked.” He probably meant wickedly handsome and talented. At least, that’s what I’ll tell myself.

Well, it looks like “I’m in it up to my neck.” (reference anyone?) We’ll see how well this doctor does now that he’s back in the thick of things.

To return or not to return: That question has been answered.

The sojourn on the other side of the Atlantic was nice. Although the weather was not welcome, being with Amy at our home, eating well, having laughs, enjoying the antics of our crazy canines were a grateful respite from the immersion in uncertainty and recurring news of violence and upheaval that characterized Kenya prior to and after my departure.
The decision to leave Africa was a good one in that I was able to have the opportunity to enjoy myself without feeling the purposelessness while waiting in Dar es Salaam. I was able to help Amy with day to day errands, make the phone calls that she has not been able to deal with considering her busy schedule, and do some general catch up on the real life challenges that seem to always plague us on a daily basis.
After coming home there was much discussion between family and friends about the necessity of returning to Matoso. The uncertainty of stability, the lack of a provisional government, the potential challenges of lost supply lines resulting in food and medicine shortages, and the worst possibilty of physical isolation without means of any movement for fear of violent consequences were all on the minds of everybody including myself. However, Lalmba USA, within a few days of my arrival, did make the arrangements for all of us to come back to Matoso within the ensuing 4 weeks. We would return to the clinic as a group. The quick decision to return was made mainly because of the scarcity of airplane tickets. Had things deteriorated further, those plans would have been canceled.
As news of continued violence persisted, the decision to return persisted to be a difficult one. Our communications with Kenya continued to indicate that the Migori area was calm. All of the Kikuyus had been “liquidated” and the violent proclivities of the Luo in South Nyanza seemed to have been satisfied. The roads were opened, the medical transports had resumed, and obtaining medicines was without difficulty. Marico, the project director who had always given correct analyses and appropriate advice, continued to maintain that returning to Matoso was still a good plan.
Amy and I had discussed the decision to return at length. She was comfortable with the idea. Knowing what the situation was on the ground gave her the reassurance to support the thought of my going back to work here. When things initially prompted us to leave, she felt that an eventual return to the area was still warranted having seen the nature of my work and the positive attitude of the community towards me; when things were so bad that returning was too dangerous, she insisted that I come home; and when things had settled down and Marico advised that returning would not be difficult, she agreed that going back was still a good idea.
It was still a challenge to determine what the right course was. The detractors and supporters of the idea of going back was interestingly split along generational lines: those of our generation felt that going back was indeed acceptable, while the older ones felt that the risk was unnecessary. However, the problem was complicated. Of course, I felt needed. Prisca, our registrar, had called me with her own money while I was in Dar asking that I should come back soon. When I mentioned that Marico had indicated that things were too tenuous, she agreed, but still she hoped that my return would be sooner rather than later. Joseph had also called saying that I should come back soon. Both of them called me with their own money and considering at the time money was difficult to come by and cellphone cards were also a rarity, it is indication of their hope that I would return.
Moreover, I was afraid that they might think that my not returning would constitute a desertion. Despite the fact that it was a good personal (and financial) decision for the previous volunteer to not return, for some of the people here, there may have been that sense of abandonment. I’m not sure if that is the case or not, but I certainly did not want to augment the idea that the volunteers come and then when things are tough they abandon the same people they came to help. It was important to me that that not be the case.
Finally, as Murphy’s law dictates, the timing of this SNAFU could not be worse. We were on the verge of launching our new TB treatment program, we had just moved to the new PSC, and we were going to introduce the new PSC in-charge to the workings of the institution. Then suddenly I had to leave to ensure Amy’s safety and successful return to the States. Her job was of paramount importance – no job, no money, no ability for me to continue working for nothing. In light of the upheaval in the country as well as to the functioning of the clinic, I felt it was necessary to come back so that I could help make sure that these other programs could be reinforced and that they were also in a stable position for when the new volunteers come to take over from me. As everybody knows an organized transfer of responsibility is vitally important to the continued functioning and eventual self sustainability of any project. Plus, reinventing the wheel is no fun.
Therefore, the combination of these factors lead me to decide that returning was necessary to the satisfaction of some to the chagrin of others. Regardless of where anybody stood, all were supportive of my work and my choice. It was difficult even for me to come back after having spent such quality time with Amy and the dogs. But in this case, the call of duty was strong enough to wrench me away from the comforts of my home (the weather notwithstanding) and my family. And now this latest blog entry comes to you from Kenya.

P.S. - Oh yeah... if you look hard, under the picture at the top of the blog is a link to our Kenya photo gallery on www.smugmug.com. If you're too lazy to look for it, click here. And, if you like them, look at all of our photos: jeevamy.smugmug.com