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

The Voyage Home

I write this blog from the comforts of my own home in Indianapolis. Yes, I have now departed the African continent. I hope that it will be a brief sojourn in the US to wait for things to calm down in Kenya before returning. In fact, as I write, we are making the plans for our return trip through Tanzania to reach the Matoso clinic.

When I reached Dar Es Salaam, I was all ready to head back to Matoso. Amy had successfully returned home; the Canadian couple with the two young children had arrived safely in Canada; and the African Pastor had established himself securely with his family in his original home town. All of the tenuous outliers of our original group of refugees had gone back to their proper places. Unfortunately, the unrest continued and the roadways to Matoso were still blocked. Food, cash, and supplies continued to be an issue. Thankfully, we were well stocked before the badness really hit.

When the repeat rallies took place from Wednesday to Friday last week, contact with Lalmba USA and Lalmba Kenya informed me that return was both extremely difficult, unsafe, and unwise. Consequently, I had to wait for more time. That was after one week in Tanzania already. Finally, when Monday of this week came, there did not seem to be any indication of resumption of normalcy in the area. In fact, over the past weekend, independent of the rally calls of the ODM (the opposition party), people again blocked the roads leading in and out of Matoso. They pulled down the polls that were to eventually support power lines (whenever the government decided that the polls should be more than wooden decorations on the side of a dirt road) and again all travel in and out was stopped. Even though personal danger was non-existent, the traveling would indeed be hazardous.

Overall, I had been getting increasingly restless in Dar Es Salaam. I couldn't communicate with Matoso via phone because both the cell network as well as the internet network were extremely unreliable, plus it is very expensive to communicate via phone for more than a few minutes. And I was not doing anything of import in Tanzania. At this point, the only way to get back to the clinic was to bike. Considering that some Kenyans had targeted South Asian stores in both Kisumu and Migori, both Dad and Amy thought this was an extremely bad idea. Others even pointed out that if I became a target while crossing the border whoever was with me would be placed in an unsafe situation also. Finally, we concluded that the time for just doing nothing was over. Along with Lalmba USA, we decided that my time would be better spent by returning home, communicating with Lalmba Kenya via phone, and spending quality time with my wife prior to our repeat separation during my fellowship.

It was a difficult decision to decide to come back. I realize that the civil unrest is extremely bad. Things flare up and die down and flare up again. Death by machete is not a fun way to go - it's bloody, messy, and slow. However, despite these threats to life and limb, it took some persuading to get me to come home. Things in Matoso in the PSC were at a juncture that this interruption could potentially be quite damaging. Had this happened one month before or one month after December 27, the upheaval in the PSC program would have been relatively mild. However, Lalmba Kenya had many goals for the new year for which we had set ourselves up to meet. I was an integral part of those plans to help pull them off. If I had had a crystal ball that would have told me that at the end of January all hell would break loose, I would have had the time and opportunity to successfully train the PSC in-charge thereby making me virtually redundant anyway. That means, new projects might be difficult to initiate but all of the changes made would have proceeded smoothly and the status quo would have been maintained without much difficulty. As foreign volunteers, our job is really to help innovate and implement and instruct. The Kenyan staff have a lot of experience in their own right, and our job is to improve function not bolster daily operations - at least not after over 20 years of Lalmba Kenya's gradual and successful development.

In addition to the practical difficulties of clinic operation created by my evacuation and inability to return, it was disturbing to me emotionally to think that I was abandoning the very people that I came to help. Granted, the staff of Lalmba Kenya agreed with the need to leave the area, especially with Amy around, as well as the caution regarding my return, but I felt that the bond that was created between me and them meant that I should continue in the trenches with them. But Prisca, Joseph, Nancy, Elizabeth, Marico - all of these people were of one mind that I should leave and only come back when things are better. I hope I can indeed go back sooner rather than later.

The trip home was disappointing. I could only stew in my own thoughts. The flight from Amsterdam to Detroit did serve as a bit of a distraction, as I was able to enjoy three decent movies: Balls of Fury, The Brave One, and 3:10 to Yuma. However, I kept wondering to myself whether I made the right decision. It definitely was the right decision by Amy and my family, but was it the right decision by Lalmba Kenya? When does the need of the few outweigh the needs of the many? How do we balance the degree of the need to begin with? Did I attach too much significance to my role there? Perhaps, we will discover that I was successful in making myself redundant even before the meltdown happened. That would definitely be a heartening ending to this story. However, I cannot know because I am not there and I cannot communicate effectively with them.

The arrival home was nevertheless wonderful. Amy met me in the airport. It was great to see her. She was so considerate even to bring my huge leather jacket, although I was already bundled up and prepared for the frigid Indiana weather. Once we got home, I was greeted with the most wonderful soup in the world - an amazing tomato soup with "wooden" rice with a mix of spices so superb that the taste just explodes in your mouth. The meal is great in itself but made better by the fact that it warmed me up as I slowly acclimatize to this horrible climate.

The dogs were all over me when I got into the car. Initially, I had approached the vehicle with my hood up and they were trying to protect their territory from this hooded stranger by barking like mad. However, once I dropped the hood, recognition was instant. Duke presented a torn up green toy to me as he always does when he is greeting somebody joyfully, and Domino deposited herself on my lap for the entire ride home. It was a very heartwarming welcome home.

In the end, I hope to go back. If I cannot, I hope that my work was not in vain.

Status: Refugee

I am now safe in Tanzania. Amy has successfully returned to the States, and our two dogs have been liberated from the doggy boarding to reunite with their home. Below is a summary (almost 11 pages) of the recent experiences we have had fleeing the chaos in Kenya.

December 20th:

Amy arrives. She is extremely tired. We add to the stress of her travels by shopping at the Nakumatt Megacity in Kisumu. It is like a Super Target. We buy almost Ksh 20,000 ($300) worth of stuff, mainly groceries.

The ride to Matoso takes about 5 hours. Amy is so tired that she actually naps in the car. For those of you who know her, you will realize that this is a significant accomplishment since Amy can hardly nap – literally from the day she was born. At one point, she is so fast asleep that I have to prevent her lolling head from slamming into the dashboard.

We finally get to Matoso, ate a dinner that Joyce had prepared for us and saved, showered, and slept.

December 21st:

Amy is sick. She has nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, and a splitting headache. My excellent nursing skills consist of giving her some medications from the pharmacy, which she promptly throws up, holding the bucket that she vomits in, and then sleeping next to her while she sleeps also. Thankfully, she recovers and she has enough strength to go the Welcome Party that Joseph, Nancy, and Sammy have prepared for her. We have a good time, eating, talking, and dancing.
We go to sleep contented.

December 25th:

We celebrate Christmas by cooking the whole day. Amy had given me all my presents when we reached to Matoso. I gave her a small beaded necklace on Christmas. Our Christmas tree exists but it is only about 10 centimeters tall.

Christmas dinner is excellent (it better be after 8 hours of cooking). We made Indian food with two curries and chipatis. I helped about 40%. Amy might say 30%, but I think she should give me the benefit of the doubt – it’s Christmas after all. Joash, one of the guards, collected flowers for us as a gift. We also received some Christmas cards, too.

That day, Daniel came. We got together and made a list of everything we needed for the Mara trip. Apparently, New Years is very important to his family and he wondered if we could delay our trip a little. Considering, we had already made the reservations for the one night in one of the resorts, we said that we had to continue with the original schedule.

December 27th:

Election. Raila Odinga of the ODM party is winning the presidential race. The majority of the MP’s (members of parliament) being elected is from the ODM.

December 28th:

Odinga is winning by 2 million votes.

We have packed up everything in preparation for the trip to the Masai Mara. All of the material to be taken has been placed in the cookhouse ready to be loaded. We are very excited for our trip. The Luo people in the area are very excited about the election.

December 29th :

We wake up in the morning to make last minute preparations. Around 10 am, we are ready for Daniel’s arrival to load the stuff into the car and take off to Migori to buy our final provisions. Around 10:30 am, we get a call from Daniel that “there is war in Migori. We cannot travel.” Initially, we have no idea what this means. Then Joseph calls “All the roads are blocked. Do not travel to Migori. There is fighting.” Thus, our Mara trip is delayed. Oh well, we figure we will leave the next day.

Both parties claim that they are the victor of the presidential election. There is no president, yet.

December 30th:

Still fighting. Roads are being blocked. People are dying. The results are still up in the air. Then, in the mid-evening, it is declared that Kibaki has won by 200,000. Approximately 40 constituencies were very slow to submit their results. Almost all were from Central province, a Kikuyu/Kibaki stronghold. These are the delayed votes that seemingly allow Kibaki to win the election. Looks like Kibaki must have studied with Jed Bush after the American Election in 2000. Within 30 minutes of the announcement that he has won the election, Kibaki rushes to the State House and swears himself in as the 4th president of Kenya.

There are death cries in the night, ululating by the women. We wonder who died. The next day some said that people were crying about the death of democracy. Another person confirmed that there was a relative who was shot and killed in Homa Bay (where the diocese is as well as an MSF post; it’s about 90 minutes from house). Probably both contributed to the wailing.

Much confusion. Much fighting.

December 31st:

Work day for us. There is a group of men who start from Gotkachola (about 20 minutes walk from Matoso) and walk from village to village breaking and burning things. They pull the doors and windows off the fish seller’s building in downtown Matoso.

They eventually reach Mihuru on the other side of the bay. It’s a Ksh 50 boat ride from Matoso and about a 20-30 minute car ride. They are attacking Kikuyus. Some of them seek refuge inside the jail. One kid is shot and is taken to our clinic. No one calls me to check on the kid. He is promptly transported to St. Camillus. The ride takes longer than normal because the road blocks need to be moved to allow the car through. Each time the ambulance approaches the road block, the men guarding it want to check who is being transported. When they verify that it is a Luo person, then they allow the ambulance through. On the return, those same men will not allow the ambulance through unless they are paid. We decide that there will be no transports after this incident. Fuel is becoming a scarce commodity and we do not want to risk our drivers or vehicles to any mob violence.

I learn later that in Sori (near the hospital where the patient was taken), Kisii cops shot another marauding Luo person. In retaliation, a Luo cop shot the two Kisii cops dead and then joined the Luo mob.

We were in contact with Lalmba USA. They agreed that the best option was to stay put in the clinic and to not risk exposing ourselves to danger in a potential crossfire of mob violence. There were no threats to our safety at this point, but we wanted to still know what our best options were. They recommended that we stay in contact and that the fact that our phone and internet were available made things a little better. Unfortunately, both operate on the same cellular network, and if one goes, they all go. However, at this point, it seems that the advice we are getting is sound.

We had also tried to contact the US embassy in Nairobi. Initially, their lines as well as their website were non-functional. I was able to contact Dad who eventually connected me via international conference call to the Embassy in Dar Es Salaam in Tanzania. The Tanzanian also could not make any Embassy to Embassy contact either. At this point, I was wondering if the Embassy was compromised. He had no information with regards to that. Rather, he took down my information and said that he would have somebody from the Nairobi Embassy call us.
That person eventually did. However, consistent with the domestic administration, those people were totally useless. Odinga was supposed to have a large rally in Uhuru Park in downtown Nairobi that day. Everybody was worried that that might cause another string of violence. The American who called me back was ignorant of this fact. He had no idea what the potential fall-out might be. He had no recommendations for Amy who was supposed to fly out the following week. In fact he said, “I don’t care about January 8th right now.” We definitely felt like we were in great hands.

Things are not good. That kid we transported died.

January 1st:

The rally was postponed. Odinga seemed to hope for a cooling off period.

Both New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day were quiet in the area. Everybody was depressed with the goings on in the country. No one celebrated anything. Daniel got his wish to stay in Matoso for the New Year, but I highly doubt that these were the conditions under which he wanted to spend it with his family.

The cellular network was out the whole day. We were unable to contact anybody. Even the radio was difficult to get functioning adequately. We did have access to a satellite radio and that signal was also unable to be accessed. What I feared about being incommunicado came to pass. No phone, no internet, no radio, nothing.

That morning, Marg Tucker, one of the people who ran Agape, a vocational training program up the street, came by the clinic for some medicine for her husband Tom. When she came to the clinic, she was informed that there was a mzungu physician there. She decided to go pay us a visit. She first met Amy who was in the cookhouse at the time. I was still sleeping. When I came out, she introduced herself to me also. She was very nice and even said that we should have dinner together. In fact, she would later send a message through her guard (since we had no other means of communication) inviting us to dinner that evening.

That evening we walked to their project. We had to go through the Matoso Center to get there. While we walked, Amy’s presence attracted a very large group of curious children. They numbered over 100 chattering, annoying, dirty faced, Kenyan kids. At one point, a rock was thrown in our direction. We’re not sure if it was directed at us or a ploy to get rid of the children. Whatever the reason, it was a bit disconcerting. Thankfully, two adults were walking in our direction and they noticed the bothersome crowd and dispersed them with their chastisement. It was nice of them. They actually apologized to us for the irksome behavior of the kids. Their sympathy was a pleasant surprise.

While at the Tuckers’ Agape compound, we also met Karen and Mike who head the Agape project in Kisumu; Daniel and Lindsey with their two young girls who are evangelists in Kisumu; and Grace and Mitto, the latter being the Pentecostal pastor of the PEFA Church (Pentecostal Evangelist Fellowship of Africa) in the area. Actually, Tom Tucker doubles as both the head of the Agape training center here in Matoso as well as the local PEFA overseer.

Dinner was nice. Conversation primarily regarded the plans for staying or leaving. The Tuckers had the resources of their church behind them. They realized that evacuation by car at that point would be impossible. The roads were thoroughly blocked. It became a question of whether a chopper would need to be arranged or not. The conversation was quite concerning, as I was not considering evacuation at that time. I didn’t really think it was necessary. However, the Canadian evangelists had two very small children, and I had a handicapped wife just off surgery who needed to get back home regardless of the situation, and we could see the precariousness of the situation. We left that evening with an escort understanding that some sort of evacuation might be necessary.

People are burnt in a church in Eldoret. At least 30 people are dead. A baby or a child (depending on the report) who was attempting to escape the blaze was tossed back into it to be roasted alive by one of the mob surrounding the human bonfire.

January 2nd:

A work day. Amy hung out in PSC with me. We shelved our new consignment of ARV drugs. We hope that they will outlast the supply distribution crisis.

We had our official opening of the new PSC. It was a fun event. Amy and I made a “red ribbon.” It was a string extended between two trees. We added a very thin bow. Amy thought it looked a little sad, but it was the thought that counted.

Just before lunch, we had the ribbon cutting ceremony. Amy was the photojournalist. The whole staff as well as a few patients congregated for the impromptu event. It was fun, and we all had a good time. Thankfully, one of the cars was able to make it all the way to Otho, 5 km away, to purchase some soft drinks. It is routine for such celebrations for everybody to have one drink.

We had a grand tour of the “new” building. We actually just moved into the original clinic building built in 1985. However, it is much more spacious than our original building which has since been turned into a storage facility. Everybody had a great time. We concluded the celebration in the education hall where we all drank to each other’s health and the future of Lalmba Kenya’s Patient Support Center.

The affair provided a short sojourn from the melancholy that had overcome the villages from the election crisis.

Just after lunch, Tom Tucker called me to inform me that a chopper was scheduled for the next morning at dawn. This development was a surprise for me, as I thought the previous night’s conversation was generally theoretical in nature. However, it appeared that I was wrong. Amy and I made our way back to our hut where we packed EVERYTHING. Obviously, we were only taking very few things with us. But just in case there would be any problem with my return, I packed everything that I brought back into the bags. These preparations were depressing. I felt like I was abandoning the people who I came to help.

Once we packed everything, I informed my PSC colleagues that I might be leaving via chopper. I tried to get in touch with Marico, the project director, to inform him of the new developments. Unfortunately, his phone would not connect. Instead I told Jenifer that we might be leaving. Both she and Nancy agreed that a preemptive strategy of evacuation was sound. Those reassurances made me feel a little better about the decision.

When work was finished, Joseph and Nancy escorted Amy and I with our bags to the Agape compound. Prior to our departure, I got a phone call from Lalmba USA prior to our leaving the clinic. He had encouraged me that evacuation was fine by them and that they would support any decision I made that I thought would ensure our safety. He also said that he and Marty would go snowshoeing for the next 3 days and that their daughter would be the point of contact after that phone call.

We quickly sent an e-mail to the rest of the folks back home and then we left.

When we got to Agape, Tom informed us of the evacuation plan. There would be two trips. He was a bit surprised that I was going to accompany them. I told them that I wanted to ensure Amy’s safety. Unfortunately, this had not figured into their calculations and there was no room for me on any of the trips. Clearly, this was upsetting for Amy. She vowed not to leave me if things were getting so bad that evacuation was necessary. She did not want either of us to be in tenuous situations separated from one another.

Of course, this unanticipated situation muddied the waters a bit. I knew that I could likely take care of myself if I were the only foreigner left in the area. However, being the only foreigner in the area while the place tore itself apart would not have been the most ideal situation but it might be better than having no backup at all along with a handicapped wife at your side.
I tried to call Marico to get his input on the situation. Unfortunately, his phone was still not picking up. It turned out he was at a meeting for a local rally the next day. It was to correspond with the rescheduled ODM rally in Nairobi. In our area, it was to be a forced rally, i.e. if you were there you were with us, and if you weren’t, you were against us and we would find you to exact those consequences. Man, it seems that the Kenyans really like the Bush family method of doing things. I guess ignorance comes in all forms. Wow.

The chopper evacuation became further complicated by the plan to move us to a non-Luo, non-Kikuyu area that was still in Kenya. There was a mission there, and so far the area had been spared violence. One of the trips would go to Nairobi to a safe-house. Unfortunately, none of these options sounded very reassuring. We thought we would go to Tanzania. The non-Nairobi place was within 10 km of the Tanzanian border, but we didn’t know where we would end up in Tanzania and how that would help get Amy to an airport so that she could get off the continent. Furthermore, we also had no clue what kind of “safe-house” it would be in Nairobi. Considering that we did not feel any threat to our person in Matoso, this whole plan of evacuation seemed a bit shaky.

Finally, we were able to contact Dad. We discussed the situation with him. Marico also personally turned up on the scene having been able to leave the meeting at its conclusion. Both of them suggested that evacuation was the best option. By this point, it was determined that a third trip that could accommodate more people would be the better option and I could go with Amy. However, the two of us still harbored doubts about the plan after the chopper flight. When we were connected with Lalmba USA through Dad’s telephone call, Hugh and Marty (the founders) were unavailable as they were snowshoeing. Keren, their daughter, was at the helm. She didn’t have any further suggestions. Dad pointed out that it was clear that the Pentecostal Church had more resources at their disposal than Lalmba. Even though things were not very bad at the time, if they got worse, and the Tuckers had already left, then we would be in a significant jam. Marico also agreed with this assessment. Even if the destinations of the chopper were in tenuous locations, at least we would have strength in numbers and the support of the Tuckers’ church behind us. Thus, it was decided we would join the missionaries on their evacuation via helicopter.

That night we slept at Agape in anticipation of the dawn air evacuation. We forgot bug spray, the Tuckers forgot a bug net, and the bugs forgot that we needed a good night sleep and they buzzed around our heads trying to get a nice meal and continuously disturbing our sleep.

January 3rd:

No chopper in the morning. Rally is thwarted in Nairobi. It continues in our area. It fizzles out when they decide to help with the funeral of the boy who was shot earlier. However, there is violence in Macaulder where it is rumored another person is shot dead.

A military helicopter is available, as the private one was diverted to Eldoret. However, both Tom and Mitto were concerned that a military chopper landing in Matoso might give the impression that we were Kibaki supporters and would spell the end of the Agape project as we knew it prompting people to ransack it and destroy it as punishment for backing PNU.
In the afternoon, we received a call that it would be arriving imminently. At the time, I had actually gone to the clinic to check on things and make sure they didn’t need my help. Plus, I went to fetch some food, as the Tuckers were running out since they were feeding 14 extra people in addition to themselves. As I was leaving the compound, there were some young guys with spears and machetes who greeted me heartily. I waved back with similar enthusiasm and headed back to the Agape compound with their guard who was sent to retrieve me for the impending evacuation.

We collected all our stuff together to where the helicopter would land. After we had done this, we received another phone call informing us that the chopper would not come after all as there were mechanical concerns and that the flight would be postponed until the next morning. So, we spent another night at Agape, this time under the mosquito net. Sleep did not elude us as completely as the previous night.

January 4th:

No chopper. Rumors abound that the roads are ablaze with burning logs rendering it blocked to wheeled transportation. Tom sends me to the clinic to verify these stories. I discover that the fires had been set 2 days before. Tom concludes that all that should be left are smoldering remains. We eat, celebrate Karen’s birthday and Daniel’s and Lindsay’s anniversary, hop into the three vehicles and drive away from the compound.

Our first roadblock is reached in the Matoso Center. It wasn’t there when I had returned barely an hour before. We paid what we needed to and bid goodbye to Daniel, Ochieng, and Josey who were in the crowd.

The next two roadblocks were simple to drive around. Tom was right - all that was left of the bonfires were just smoldering ashes. They were easy to circumvent.

The final three roadblocks were significant requiring the three Luo men that we recruited to help get us into Tanzania to get out and help us get through. The first and third were a simple matter of moving stones. The second one was far more major. It consisted of three levels of stones. There was no possibility of driving around. Under a tree was the guard consisting of men with machetes. Our escorts got out and talked to them. After a little while they all contributed to move the rocks. Apparently, only the guards could do it since there were nails in the roads and they knew their location so as to not only move them from the path of the vehicles but also to not step on them. As we passed this barrier, one of the men with machetes called out “Jeevan!” waving his weapon in the air jovially and beaming at my greeting in response.
We get across the Tanzanian border and stop at the immigration office. We have to actually find the immigration official and fetch him from his home. He was apparently taking a nap.
The whole process lasts many hours. The Americans and the Canadians from Kisumu do not have their passports, although they do have copies of them. He tries to haggle for some bribe money. In the end, he settles for money to pay his transportation and his lunch to another town where he must get the passports stamped. It’s a hassle. There is added stress, as we leave from the office to our motel without our passports.

Our accommodations are more like camping in concrete. The Kisumu people are at a guest house where we discover there is a medical student from Indiana University doing a rotation. Our abode is a hotel with no electricity and toilets that require throwing water into them to flush them (just like in India). The showers consist of filling a bucket full of cold rain water and throwing it on ourselves. We get meals, though – at least we didn’t have to hunt animals to provide for ourselves.

We are safe but our plans from here on out are still uncertain. We need to get Amy off the continent. Luckily, Dad was able to change the flight to depart from Arusha. The Canadians are able to arrange through their church a private plane to come and get their passports from Kisumu. Eventually, they will fly to Nairobi on this plane and depart to Canada. Nairobi is still a scary place. A demonstration by women in the city was broken up by the police using tear gas, water cannons, and live ammunition. Amy and I are comfortable with the decision to make our way to Arusha.

January 5th:

We learn that a group of people are being dropped off at the motel in the evening and the car that is coming plans to head back to Arusha the next morning. They will take us for a fee, but we will have to go through the game parks and therefore pay those fees. Everybody recommends that this is a good option. . It will be more comfortable than a bus, likely the same price, and a shorter ride. We learn later that the buses sometimes don’t even make the whole trip, breaking down in the middle of the road. Furthermore, Karen and Mike know some other missionaries in Arusha with whom we could stay. They call their friends and they are willing to accommodate us. It looks like the next day’s trip should work out.

We take a nap.

We pack.

We take leave of our refugee comrades. They were extremely helpful in a very sticky situation affording us camaraderie, support, and advice when they were in short supply. Tom Tucker did not make a wrong call in the whole crisis leading us very well. When it turned out that we had to put all our eggs in that basket, it turned out well for us. Of course, Tom said that God gave him the wisdom to make the right decisions. Whatever the reason, we emerged unscathed.

Hugh and Marty have returned from snowshoeing. They contact us and agree with the trip to Arusha via the private vehicle.

January 6th:

We wake up at 5:30 am and depart. We pick up our boxed lunches that were prepared for us by the motel.

It’s a cool morning. We have a nice breakfast on the road.

Within 2 ½ hours we reach the entrance to the Serengeti National Park. We pay and take a few pictures. Our 6 day planned Safari in the Mara is reduced to a 6 hour drive through the park. It’s better than nothing, I guess. We were able to see giraffes, hippos (they wouldn’t come out of the water, though), wildebeest, water buffaloes, zebras, gazelles, impalas, elephants, monkeys, baboons, vultures, hawks, warthogs. No rhinos or lions, though.

At one point, a grill comes loose on the car. The drivers have to get out and strap it to the roof. Later in the trip, the fan or something also begins to malfunction, and they have to fix it.
We go through Ngorongoro Crater. The crater is fine to look at. A lot of Masai live in this area. We learn later that if we had time to spend there, we would have been able to experience very proximally the lions in the area. That would have been fun. Holly and Tony (the people we stayed with in Arusha) said that he lions will come within touching distance of the car, sometimes even getting on the vehicle. Hopefully, we will have that experience when I come back with the rest of the family.

We get to Arusha around 6 pm. I pay the driver. I find out that the weakening of the Kenyan Schilling with respect to the Tanzanian Schilling makes the drive more expensive than expected. However, we made it safe and sound. We cannot complain too much. Tony picks us up in his van. We meet their family. We talk of our adventures. Then we go to sleep.

January 7th:

Tony takes us to the airlines area. We buy my plane ticket to Dar Es Salaam. We withdraw some Tanzanian Schillings to help us get through the next few days. In the evening, Holly takes us to a Danish education center where she is investigating different ways of educating the Masai about HIV (that is her main work in Tanzania; Tony works in the business of “appropriate technology” making devices that are accessible to the population at large).

January 8th:

In the afternoon, we go to the Masai Market. It’s really just a general market. There are a lot of Masai specific things mixed in with just a bunch of African arts and crafts. It was interesting. We scope it out for the next day when we have to withdraw more money to buy a few gifts. Despite our escape, we can still get a few souvenirs.

In the afternoon, the 12 year old boy Devon and I walk to the top of the street to buy some hardware to make a blow gun and darts. It was a fascinating experience. He bought a 3 meter long pipe and a ½ kilo of two types of nails. When we got back to the house, he instructed me in the method of making a dart. It consists of creating a funnel out of a piece of paper and wrapping it around the nail. One then cuts “feathers” into the tail of the dart, i.e. the open part of the funnel. We have to make sure that the paper funnel fits into the tube snuggly. Then, we cut the tube to whatever length desired. Finally, everything is done. I inserted the dart into the pipe and blew on the end. Man, that dart flew! It struck the tree so hard, it made it bleed! Eventually, we would discover that we would have fairly decent accuracy with a 2 meter tube at up to 20 meters. Man, it was awesome. Then from 10 meters, I would shoot at plastic bottles. The darts would penetrate the bottles tipping them over, making them “bleed” all their water out of their “wound.” It was a cool two days of using a blow gun.

January 9th:

In the morning, we go to the Masai Market. We buy a few things, mostly jewelry. We are satisfied with our purchases.

We get back to house. We pack, we eat. We take leave of our gracious host. Amy’s and my separation is coming soon…again. Finally, we drive her to the hotel from which she will take the shuttle to the airport. That is the last I will see of her for another 4 months.

I go to sleep soon, for I have to be awake at 4:45 am for my 5:15 shuttle for my 7:30 flight to Dar.

January 10th:

After I get to the airport, I discover that the plane is delayed 3 hours. Then at 10:30, I find out it is delayed another 2 hours. Then, I find out that the 11:30 flight is going to leave before ours. There is no justice.

I get to Dar. A CARE vehicle picks me up and takes me to the main office which is right across from the Indian High Commission and French Embassy. I hang out reading newspapers until Paul comes. He is the CARE country director of Tanzania. He finishes his work and drives me to his home.

We just talk and have a light dinner. His wife Nora will be arriving tomorrow from the States. She stayed on to see her youngest daughter of to Senegal.

Now, the situation for me is that of waiting. Being a refugee is pretty boring. In fact, most refugees say that the boredom is the most difficult aspect of life in the refugee camps. You have nothing with you – no books, nothing with which to write, sometimes no one to talk to, no schools, no intellectual stimulation. The camps are usually set up in barren wastelands. In our case, we had people to talk to and that whiled the time a bit, but still there is nothing else to occupy your time. Once conversation runs out, it’s time to take a nap, I guess.

The situation in Kenya is not improving. Another rally is being set up for this coming week. I hope that the cops do not continue to be trigger happy. Now there are rumors of Ugandan soldiers roaming around. I don’t what that means. Uganda one launched an unprovoked war on Tanzania. You can interpret what you want from that sentence.

Now, I just wait until I can get the go ahead to go back. January was going to be a fruitful month for Lalmba Kenya – Directly Observed Therapy (DOT) program, assessment of the efficacy of our newly trained Community Health Workers (CHW’s), stepping up to the challenge of discovering that an area was not giving HIV treatment like we thought and that we would have to indeed serve this larger area effectively increasing our potential patient catchment by 30% and more. Now, it might look like that when I get back it will be damage assessment and control. Other clinics in the area have run out of HIV meds. Those patients are coming to us. That means we might soon run out. Our sources for HIV meds are telling us that they can give us only 2 meds of a three medication cocktail. That’s like giving us nothing at all. The TB situation will eventually be even worse than that. Right now, it means that we cannot start anybody new on therapy.

Well, it seems that Africa strikes again. It is so sad.

Into Africa

This blog is a unique treat for you readers. We have a special guest writer who is well known to many of you either in person or by reputation as...My Wife. Enjoy her impressions of her visit to the Dark Continent - duh, duh, duh, duuuuuuh!!!!

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Hello Everyone!

I just thought I would write some of my initial impressions of Africa, while the culture shock is fresh and everything is new and befuddling.

Perhaps the most interesting experience was to see how life changes as you move deeper and deeper into the country and out from the cities. Landing in Nairobi was a normal experience: the airport was big and our luggage was slow in coming. I had met a young Kenyan student studying in Austin, TX, on the plane, and he was kind enough to ensure that I got my luggage without trouble. He even called Jeevan to make sure I had made it to Kisumu alive and well. Once I made my way from the international wing of the Nairobi airport and crossed the street (without being run over by a taxi), I could already see a big change. The local part of the airport is frequented by mostly Kenyans and many fewer mizungu (white folk). There were only two mizungu on my flight to Kisumu, and it got me thinking that this is an experience every white person should have. Being absolutely "other" and foreign (more so for me as a blonde, white dwarf) is an intensely bizarre experience; not a bad one, just bizarre. I definitely can understand what Franz Fanon was feeling when he first went to Paris; it is an experience that is quite perturbing to your self-identity.

When I landed in Kisumu, it was a rather small airport at which the baggage claim consists of a sign "wait here for luggage." You are to huddle together like pigeons and wait until they offload the bags and push them to a cart over to you. Actually, it's the most efficient baggage claim I have ever been through! After retrieving my bag, Jeevan and Chacha, a clinic staff member, drove me back to Matoso. However, because it is a six-hour journey and because it is a 40-minute drive to Migori (the largest town near Matoso), we had to stop and do many errands along the way. I was grumpy and tired, but you do what you have to do, I suppose. My flight had arrived around 8am, but with the errands and such we did not reach Matoso until 6pm.

The road to Matoso is the most interesting thing I have ever been on. There is a stretch outside of Kisumu that I think could give children brain damage if they were to experience the ride too often. For 40 minutes or so (maybe it was only 10, but I swear it was longer), the road was made up of asphalt that had once been a lovely road but that had been ruined in damaging rains. It had broken into plum-sized bits and has remained such. The problem is that there is no avoiding them...that's the road! Other than that crazy stretch, it was paved roads until Migori, which would have been fine if there weren't goats, cows, people, and bicycles to constantly avoid. I am very glad I do not have to navigate in a place like this. Apparently, bikes are considered pedestrians, and pedestrians do not have the right of way. If there is a bike coming and you want to turn, you turn: they had better get out of the way. And, other people's cows and goats are expendable. Chickens more so. And, wild birds and other creatures may be stalked and chased down within inches of their lives - if they're lucky.

One of our errands was to stop in Migori so Chacha could gather the Lalmba mail and I'm not sure what else. In any case, we parked the car (which is a Land Cruiser ambulance, by the way) "downtown", the gathering place and a strip of huts masquerading as businesses. I was almost comatose by this point. Jeevan said I had been so deeply asleep before that when they stopped in Migori, he had had to stop my head from slamming into the dashboard - no shoulder belts here, just lap. I don't know if I believe him, but we stayed in the car. The villagers were very curious and made it a point to ensure that their paths crossed by the car. They would pass by and give a sideways glance, and shortly after, I would hear the word "mizungu". While Jeevan is technically a mizungu as far as being a foreigner, he is Indian, and people in larger metropoli like Migori don't seem to disturbed because there is a somewhat large number of Indians residing in Kenya (yay British colonialism). I, however, attract attention everywhere, even if I am just sitting in a car...my blonde hair is like the beacon of a lighthouse, saying, "mizungu this way, mizungu this way."

We finally arrived in Matoso after our trip to Kenyan Disneyland. That's how I like to think of Migori because in one of the hotels - what they call restaurants - there is a giant coke bottle on the terrace. When I say giant, I mean giant. I'm not sure if it's inflatable of plastic, but it's about 10-12 feet tall and maybe 4-5 feet in diameter. Maybe this was jetlag talking, but I swear it was there. I remember asking Jeevan why it was there, and he said, "why not?" I have to say, it did remind me a bit of that weird film "The Gods Must be Crazy", for those of you who have seen it, you'll know what I'm talking about....Ok, Matoso.

We arrive in Matoso, and I made the long trek to Jeevan's hut. Not that long in retrospect, but after 38 hours of straight travel in three calendar days over many time zones (how does that mess with your head?), I was on my last legs. I was then treated to a nice, short, cold shower. They do have solar-heated shower bags, but they were cold - ok, room temperature - by the time I got to them (no sun). It was a nice shower anyway. Then we ate the spaghetti that Joyce, the Lalmba volunteer's (Jeevan's) cook, made. Not bad considering they have probably never had such food. I don't remember much after that...something, something, something...collapse in bed.

Wake up with splitting head. Have to run to latrine ("choo") 100 yards away. Yay! Walking back...legs feel wobbly. Head hurts. Crawl in bed. Jeevan gives me ibuprofen. Feel yucky, stomach hurts. Jeevan gives me anti-nausea pills. Pray to God to make me sleep. Maybe need something to eat. Jeevan brings cheese. Open cheese. Puke at sight of cheese. Have to run and puke in bushes. Puke. Puke. Puke. Crawl back in bed. Pray to God to make me sleep. Sleep. Jeevan wakes me some time. "Some of the staff has been working for two days for a welcoming party for you. You have to come later. You have to dig deep, I'm sorry." Nod okay. Back to sleep. Jeevan wakes me at 4pm. Feel much better. Yay!

I don't know what was wrong with me, but a day of sleep did me well. When Jeevan woke me up at 4pm, we met Joseph, who works with Jeevan at the HIV/TB part of the clinic (the PSC). Joseph took us to the Sea Lodge, which is the local hotel/gathering place. As we walked through "downtown" Matoso, I drew wide eyes and dropped jaws. The word mizungu was mumbled several times, especially by the children who are not shy, and Jeevan said hello. They nervously responded and kept watching as we walked on. Nancy, who is the counselor at PSC, lives at Sea Lodge had prepared a special meal. I was nervous given my throwing up/bathroom incident earlier; I didn't want to offend anyone by not eating...especially since it was beef stew, which is expensive to make and for special occasions. Luckily, I really seemed fine. I ate my beef stew, my grits, my sukuma (kale or greens of some sort), and rice. It was quite yummy. I had sprite and beer too. Then we danced and had a good time. I used many of the same moves Gavyn has seen many times in the department. They thought it was great that a mizungu would let loose and dance so soon to music they don't know. But we all laughed and danced a little past dark (while we didn't have far to go, Joseph lives around the lake a bit, and it's best to get home before too late). Then, before we left, they wanted us to all sit down. Nancy started by saying that they were so happy that I came even though I was not feeling well and that I was so accepting of an invitation of people I did not know. They were happy that I was there with my smiling face and eating their food. Then she said that Jeevan is not like other mizungus and that he is their friend and that they are so happy to have him and that I must be like him too. That made me feel nice. Then Sammy talked and said similar things. Then, it was Joseph's turn. Joseph and Jeevan have really become friends, doing yoga together after work, etc. Joseph wanted me to know that Jeevan really is his friend and that he is a good person. I could tell that they were very sincere about these things, and I was grateful to be part of the moment. Then Jeevan said his piece, and I said mine. I thanked them for welcoming me so openly and kindly. Then we went home. That is perhaps the most generously I have ever been welcomed by strangers.

Since that was Friday, the clinic was closed over the weekend, but since most of the staff live in town or on the compound, several people stopped by to meet Amy Jeevan (that's how you know you are married.. you add the man's name to your name). Then, when they found out I was a professor, they were thrilled that Jeevan has a "clever" wife, and they said I am Professor Amy Jeevan. My title sounds better than Jeevan's: he's just Dr. Jeevan. Word had obviously spread about Amy Jeevan's presence since by Sunday I had met quite a few people.

On Monday I met the rest of the staff and was welcomed again during the "greeting". The clinic opens at 8:30, but everyone arrives around 8am to greet each other and for the morning prayer. It is a Christian prayer, but sung in the Luo language. It was beautiful, even though I have no idea what was going on. I think the idea of a greeting is lovely and that it will hopefully not be lost with "progress". The community is extremely connected here, and it made me melancholic for something we do not have easily in our fast-paced life in the US. While Dr. Jeevan was working, Professor Amy Jeevan spent the rest of the morning on Monday talking with Joyce about her family and helping her cook as much as she would allow. The clinic closed early on Monday because it was Christmas Eve, and Nancy stopped by to say hello to her "new friend". I had brought pictures for Jeevan, but I showed them to Nancy and Joyce. We had also showed them to Joseph and some others over the weekend. I have never seen people be so honestly interested in photos. It took a long time to look at 20 photos. They wanted to know why I was doing such and such and where we were... then, they would just look and study the photo. It's so nice to see people slow down and really experience things. It's a lesson for me.

The rest of the week we have pretty much alone. Christmas was a holiday, of course, as is today, the 26th. I showed myself to be a good mizungu and cooked Jeevan a nice meal. For breakfast we had pancakes. And, he requested chicken curry, potato curry (or gobiless "aloo gobi" - no cauliflower available), and chapati. I also made a vanilla pie with meringue topping. Not bad for no electricity! I think I worked all the calories off whipping the egg whites by hand. I cooked all day and treated myself to a gin and tonic (they have some booze here for special occasions). I must say, Martha Stewart would be proud of Professor Amy Jeevan. No measuring cups, no electricity, different ingredients...and everything turned out well! It's nice to know that when the apocalypse comes or when the U.S. finally uses up all our non-renewable resources, I can survive. And, as Jeevan said, he will survive as long as I will. One of the guards stopped by as well as the driver, Daniel, who will take us on safari. As he was leaving, he said my food smelled good and congratulated Jeevan on having a wife who can cook. That is the real Kenyan test for a woman: can she cook? I seem to have passed several tests: Nancy said I am beautiful; Joyce said I am clever (i.e. smart); Daniel said I can cook. Dr. Jeevan can keep me. Yay!

The 27th and 28th are also public holidays this year because of the elections on the 27th. Because people often work far away from their home village (as far as Nairobi), they must find transportation back to their village to vote, which is very important to them. It is quiet here this week then. But, Jeevan and I leave on safari on Saturday, and we will be gone for six days. If I don't get eaten by a lion, I'm sure I'll have more to write and photos to post when I return to the U.S.

Now that I have written a novella and most of you have long since given up, I will sign off for now. Hopefully, I will have much more interesting National Geographic-esque things to write next time. Less anthropology/sociology, more wild life discovery.

Hope you all had a Merry Christmas!

Professor Amy Jeevan

Bagged cats, dead flies, and screeching banshees

I finally caught the cat. For those of you who don’t remember, there has been a black and white cat that has been plaguing me ever since my arrival here in Kenya. Initially, it was like a pet of the other volunteer. She would feed it and a second cat that also used to hang around. Unfortunately, that black and white cat was a nuisance, as she would make this high pitched mewling sound regardless of how much you fed her. When the other volunteer had left, I would chase it away by throwing things at it. It would indeed run away but like a battered woman it would come back for more abuse. Then, I thought if I just fed it once in awhile it would shut up and be grateful. That just made things worse. Finally, I decided to eliminate the problem. The first time, we rid ourselves of the cat, one of the guards had taken it to his home. The stupid cat came back to continue bothering me and have things thrown at it.

When I knew I would not be rid of it in any conventional way, I decided to trap it and give it to one of the guards who figured he could use it at his home to trap pests. Animals in rural Kenya are only kept for utilitarian purposes. There is no such thing as a pet around here. Anyway, now I had a plan in terms of how to get rid of the cat. The first time I caught it, we wrapped it in a towel and tied it up. It escaped and came back to the compound. The second time, we stuffed it into a box, taped it shut, tied it closed. And somehow she escaped again. As I had explained to Marc, the overall medical director, I am the cat’s catcher not its keeper. I was able to trap it again using the same techniques, but this time I was the stupid one to let it slip though the door when I had gone back into the cookhouse to stuff it into a sack that I finally procured. Now, the cat was getting quite weary of me. She would still meow that stupid high frequency cry of hers, probably just to annoy me, but she would not enter the cookhouse to be trapped anymore, no matter what type of bait I used – bread, milk, brownies, popcorn – nothing would make her come into the cookhouse of doom. Finally, a few days ago, I tried to feed her some milk in a bowl outside. She wouldn’t run away from me which was an interesting development in itself. And so I was able to give her the milk outside and maintain her attention by continuing to pour milk into the bowl. With my left hand, now covered in an oven mitt, I was able to grab her and throw her into the cookhouse very quickly shutting the door. At the time, I did not think there was any chance of success and so I wasn’t wearing my jacket to as a means of protection for my body. So, I donned my jacket, grabbed a broom, pushed the cat into a position where I could grab her again and stuff her into the sack. It was a win, win, win, situation: I got rid of the cat, the cat found a home where she wasn’t despised, and the guard got a useful animal. The guard’s home is 5 kilometers from here and I hope that is enough distance from here that the cat won’t find her way back. I have emerged VICTORIOUS!!!! I white bagged the black cat!

However, it seems that when one bothersome situation is resolved another one decides to take its place. Among the various Christian entities here, one of them is the Pentecostal Church. And for some reason, they have taken it upon themselves to be one of the most annoying groups on the face of the planet. They insist on blasting their loud, horrendous, screeching voices across the villages with the loudest and poorest quality loudspeakers that they can find. And they always make sure that the people who do the screeching are the worst screechers they can find. Not only do they have the voices of dying donkeys when they sing but those people even attempt to make their voice sound even more broken and disturbing during the song – I guess to make sure that no one can sleep around them. On numerous occasions, they will continue their appalling evangelizing until past 3 am on weekdays! I realize that there are very few sources of steady employment here, but weekdays are weekdays for everybody. It’s as if they are trying to avoid salvation by annoying the gods so much that they will eventually be banished from paradise to a place where their awful rendition of music will be appreciated as a punishment for the rest. They will definitely be welcome in hell as colleagues and collaborators rather than victims.

And if the shrieking Pentecostalists aren’t enough, we have had this unrelenting rain that comes off and on in downpours. Right now, it certainly doesn’t rain but it pours. When it strikes the metal roofs of our dwellings, it feels like your head is inside a snare drum during a drum roll. I have been awaken so many times during these torrents, and I cannot go back to sleep until it eases. For those of you who know my slumbering proclivities, you can imagine how bad this noise really is.

And the rain doesn’t stop its irritation at the noise but it contributes to one of the worst smells of decay that I have ever experienced. The lake flies have decided to come out and die on our doorstep. And in their death, they have decided that the rain and their corpses shall merge to create the most offensive olfactory concoction possible. The horrendous smell is stifling in and of itself, but we have had to endure it for 5 days now. We have had too much rain and too little sun for the rotting bodies to dry out and allow us to breathe fresh air. Maybe, I should have left the cat alone.

The Arrival of Royalty

On the day of Hugh and Marty’s arrival (the founders of Lalmba; they visit Africa twice a year to check on things), I had a surprising encounter in the cook house. As I walked to the refrigerator, I was greeted with the unusual site of a charred table and smoke-blackened wall. Apparently, some how the hose to one of the stoves ignited. When I happened onto this burnt situation, the gas cylinder was still leaking. Interestingly, no one had used that particular stove recently. Furthermore, it’s amazing that nothing more exploded considering the second gas tank was right next to the leaking one and a third tank connected to the fridge was also nearby. I was also surprised that none of the guards noticed a fire burning in the cookhouse. Maybe, it was a spontaneous flash burn. We’ll never know for sure. At least the cookhouse still exists and it didn’t go the way of the rumors; when I started work that morning, somebody said, “I heard the cookhouse burned down. But I think I still see it standing.”

Hugh and Marty visited us with Carrole, the project director from Ethiopia. Their visit was nice and quite refreshing. It was a break in the routine of being the only person around in the evenings after work. Marty did most of the cooking while we were here and I ate extremely well. Hugh was a bit surprised that I wasn’t always hungry when I was alone fending for myself. He marveled at the amount that I did eat at meals, considering the quality and quantity of food is not comparable when Marty is not here. I just told him that my appetite is proportional to the quality of food. I am more hungry when there is good food and less hungry when there isn’t, and my metabolism compensates.

Among the many things that Carrole had told me about Ethiopia, the most disturbing is the fact that they have carnivorous ants there. I read this book here called Poisonwood Bible. It’s about the Congo. At one point in the book, everybody is running from the village because these carnivorous ants are on the march. They end up eating some of the livestock. Apparently, just before Carrole’s departure, the staff had to reassure the children in the orphanage because during one of the nights, these crazy ants devoured the chickens! Man, I’m glad I’m not in Ethiopia.

During the visit, all of the mizungus (foreigners) went to the children’s home. I discovered that our visit was 10 years to the day of the opening ceremony for the home. They had a visitor’s book that we filled out, and we saw H&M’s signature there 10 years ago that day. Cool. It’s neat when you’re part of history, even if it is to be a small event.

Their visit was fruitful. Much of their time was spent discussing budget issues. Amazingly, after every single meeting that we had, we decided upon a solution and plan of action. It seems that even though things operate on Kenyan time (30 minutes to 2 hours later than the appointed time), Kenyan meetings are far more productive than the American counterparts. Or perhaps, it’s just Lalmba Kenya where the management team is extremely competent and effective.

H&M were encouraged and encouraging about the changes made to the PSC. I’m glad that they also think that I’m doing a good job. And really, I’m just managing and doing some training. Most of the ideas and all of the actual implementation are by the Kenyans. Since I’m not bogged down with everyday worries and duties, I can concentrate on the big picture and help others see it so that we can come up with a solution together.

Well, now I’m the lone Mizungu again…until Amy comes for a visit. Then it’s party time in the Serengeti!!!