Closing thoughts: Learning to Fly

This is what I learned from my trip to Africa.  There was great, there was good and there was the heartbreaking.  But I'm learning to fly.  I'm earning my wings. 

Thanks for taking the ride with me.  LG 

Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers live from Bonnaroo 2006

Learning to Fly

Well I started out down a dirty road
Started out all alone
And the sun went down as I crossed the hill
And the town lit up, the world got still

I'm learning to fly, but I ain't got wings
Coming down is the hardest thing

Well the good ol' days may not return
And the rocks might melt and the sea may burn

I'm learning to fly, but I ain't got wings
Coming down is the hardest thing

Well some say life will beat you down
Break your heart, steal your crown
So I've started out for God knows where
I guess I'll know when I get there

I'm learning to fly, around the clouds
But what goes up must come down

I'm learning to fly, but I ain't got wings
Coming down is the hardest thing

A taste of heaven from East Africa

Now that I have found a good recipe for my favorite breakfast food from my trip to East Africa, I am going to become the lady on the street selling mandazi in Greenwood.

Mandazi Recipe

My Nose! My Nose!

I am leaving Nairobi on May 20th.  Nine days from today.  The reality is beginning to sink in and I realize I don't know where this last year has gone or why it is gone so fast.  I have been blessed beyond belief with so many new friends and new experiences.  In the coming weeks I will introduce you to my new friends.  I've decided to keep this blog alive because I may go on other adventures, but for the time being, it will focus on trying to more adequately discuss this adventure.

I am sad about leaving Nairobi because it is a truly fun town.  It has a rhythm, a beat much like that of Atlanta.  You hear music everywhere, mostly Bob Marley.  I like that there is music everywhere.  The people are very helpful.  If they see you looking lost, they offer to help you.  And the vast majority of them do not expect money for helping you.  Love, love, love the nightlife!  I have been to some of the most fun clubs and bars.  When I get back home, I will tell you more about the bars.  Incredible, incredible night life.

I will not, however, miss the smell of Nairobi.  For reasons that I cannot fathom, people keep livestock in the city.  I'm not talking a rooster or chicken or two.  I'm talking herds of cattle and passels of pigs.  At the end of the day I scrub my feet like Lady MacBeth before going to bed.  I want to bleach them everyday not only because of the incredible amount of feces everywhere, but also there is a large amount of rotting garbage everywhere.  The stench of all of this, plus an inadequate sewer system makes for a smell that has a life of its own.

Nairobi is a city that grew much, much faster than its infrastructure did.  Consequently, there are problems with garbage and sewer handling and traffic.  The traffic is always horrible, but not because the drivers are insane like they were in Uganda, but because there are so many cars and matatus to be served.  I live about 6 miles from town.  On a good day with light traffic it takes over an hour to travel those 6 miles.  During rush hour, it takes 3 to 4 hours.  And there are many people who spend 6-8 hours 6 days a week going to a job there.  And the standard work day here is 10+ hours per day.  So much for family life.  I don't know how they do it.

But despite the smell, the traffic and the poverty, I love this city.  I discover something new almost everyday.  Yesterday, I discovered a blooming rose bush at a clinic near where I live.  Imagine that!  One of the sweetest smelling roses I ever smelled blooming in the middle of Africa.  And I had no idea you could grow roses in Africa.  While the Masters was going on back home an hour away from my house, an azalea-like bush that grows everywhere here was at its peak of blossoming.  It's just another of the many serendipities of Africa, like the pergola that I discovered a few weeks ago.

It goes to show me that even in the most unappealing of circumstances that if I keep my eyes opened and my heart ready for the unexpected and beautiful, it is there.  I learn and relearn this lesson every day of my life.  Thank you Africa for teaching me this lesson.

Sunday Night Blues

So I've made it to another Sunday night.  And this one is after the dullest weekend of my time in Nairobi, so I guess the Sunday Night Blues are inevitable.

The Sunday Night Blues have been an affliction in the Grose household since graduation from college.  Ah, those heady days of no responsibilities and no work on Monday, just 3 hours of class and then the bliss of putting off reading or studying while spending time goofing off with friends.  I wouldn't say the Sunday Night Blues are depression, just more a sort of vague despondency and a resignation that the inevitable Monday is only a few hours away.

In an attempt to rescue myself from boredom, I haul my laptop into my backpack and head for the Starbucks of Nairobi (Nairobi Java House) near where I live in Greenspan Mall.  I determine that I will spend the evening watching videos and surfing the net getting caught up on the world's news and just goofing off over the evening.

After I plug in my computer and start writing this post, I am joined by a complete stranger at my table which disturbs me greatly.  I am sitting in a 4-top booth that I had intended to keep entirely to myself. I had planned a perfectly funny evening of John Oliver from YouTube and now I can't enjoy laughing out loud with someone, a stranger, sitting at my table.  Hopefully this will not last all night.

The Stranger has pulled out his Bible and is reading intently.  This does not look good for having a quiet (but funny) evening on my own.  I am mortally afraid of being witnessed to against my will.  Momentarily, I think I would prefer Guantanamo Bay, but then I think better of that one.  He closes his Bible now and is looking around the café as if he is waiting on someone, perhaps someone unknown to him, that will engage him in the conversation that I will not.

Julius, my regular waiter here, brings me great service and superb light conversation.  He has also just brought me my Chicken Tandoori Wrap.  But wait, a light from my cell phone tells me that I have a text message waiting.  The evening could be saved, I hope.

An exchange of texts ensues, but nothing is really determined.  You come here.  No, you come here; I just got my dinner.  No, you come here.  You know the drill.  Looks like John Oliver and YouTube are back on again.

And so it goes, I have about 6 weeks left in Nairobi and one seriously dull evening was bound to happen.  On the bright side, I realize that spending an evening in an internet café is going to be a great way to transition back into my life at home.  Home.  Such a comforting word right now.

But wait, another text from my friend.  It is possible this evening could be interesting after all.  We work out a time and place to meet.  But I still miss home and right now I can think of nothing I would rather do than have the Sunday Night Blues with Charles.

Everybody has their own NGO

Absolutely every single person in Africa has their own NGO.  And absolutely every single one of those people wants you to hear about their "program".

There is a neighborhood drunk where I work named "Sam".  A couple of weeks ago while I was buying a bottle of water, he accosted me with his "program".  Everyone with an NGO feels they MUST tell ME about their "program" every time they see me.

The basic tenets of Sam's particular "program" are as follows:

1) To remain drunk at all times;
2) To "do something" for the youth of Kenya/Africa while remaining drunk 24/7;
3) To "do something" for the youth of Kenya/Africa who suffer directly or indirectly from the scourge that is HIV/AIDS while remaining drunk 24/7;
4) To "do something" for the orphans and other vulnerable populations in Kenya/Africa while remaining drunk 24/7;
and
5) For me to finance all of the above, most particularly the portions of these programs that will allow Sam to remain drunk 24/7.

Nope, I'm not the least bit cynical today.  This post is dedicated to Perfesser Kevin Hill, Florida International University

Culture Wars

I am fortunate to have the opportunity to work in Kenya.  I try to live by the aphorism "When in Rome, do as the Romans" and I want the people of this country to know that not all Americans are jerks.  But I'm left with the nagging question of cultural practices.

Most of the men that I work with are of the Luo tribe of Kenya.  Kenya has 42 distinct tribes, each with its own native language.  The Luo also have the reputation of being the most restrictive when it comes to women's rights, but fortunately they do not participate in FGM.

I come from a culture that values women as equals, even though the pay gap and the glass ceiling are alive and well.  At least we say we value women.

In Africa, there is much talk from men about how women need to be empowered, but little is actually done on the personal or national level to achieve this goal.

And so, as a guest in Kenya and as an American woman, how do I manage the situations when the two cultures clash?  If it is inconsequential to me, I let it pass.  Why bother rocking the boat?  But in doing that, am I implicitly accepting the cultural practices of these Luo men that I do find offensive.  And how about when I am faced with the choice of how to respond when a cultural practice I find repugnant is unavoidable?  Or what about when the practice is just plain stupid?

In my fantasy world, I'd like to think we could meet in the middle and take the best of both cultures and forge a compromise that leaves both sides feeling good about their culture.  But in the real world, I find that I am most often on the short end of the stick.

And what of others respecting my culture and its practices?  Am I to abandon my culture completely because I am a guest and want to be a polite guest?

Comments welcome.

Top ten things your tour guide won't tell you about Nairobi

10.  There are approximately 4 million residents of Nairobi.  There is a speed bump for every single one of them.

9.  Nairobi is the host for the annual 124 mile Rhino Run.  This makes child's play of getting gored by a bull in Pamplona.

8.  The Solar Ice Rink boasts 15,000 square meters (area of the total sports complex that houses it).  It is the largest ice rink in Africa and the first ice rink in East Africa.

7.  Malaria is very rare in Nairobi according to medical experts in Nairobi and there are surprisingly few mosquitos here.  But I wouldn't chuck the malaria prophylaxis yet.    

6.  Odd dining options: The Iguana Bar and Grill serves Mexican and Indian food and Tanager Bar and Restaurant serves Chinese and African food.

5.  Narcissism in Nairobi:  A local bride had her wedding cake made to look like herself.

4.  Nairobi is home to the Male Girls Secondary School.  No commentary necessary.

3.  Nairobi hosts the Slum Film Festival, an annual festival celebrating films about slums.  I hope it has a category for films by slum residents.  I wonder if Slumdog Millionaire made the cut?

2.  According to Transparency International's 2013 study of corruption in Kenya, 58% of individuals that had legal issues reported paying bribes to the Judiciary.  77% of individuals having business with the police paid bribes.  I guess the police assumed these two riders on the back of a truck couldn't afford to pay the bribe for the ticket.

1.  A local pastor has banned women from wearing underwear during services underwear during services so that "God can enter their bodies more easily".  He did not ban men from wearing their knickers.  I suppose this pastor of the Lord's Propeller Redemption Church did not want male congregants to have God enter their bodies through their orifice.

Photo Friday 23.01.15

View from the Executive Suite at Arrow Web Hospital Kayole slum, Nairobi

View to the left

View to the right

Man with overloaded bike directly beneath

Gap Year Continues in Nairobi

I have left Kapuwai, Uganda and many friends to work for the Arrow Web Hospital in the Kayole-Soweto slum of Nairobi, Kenya.  I will miss my many friends from Uganda, but it is time to move on.

I'd like to thank my husband, Charles Grose for this gap year in Africa.  I have grown more patient, more understanding and more caring for those who aren't as fortunate as I am.  Thanks honey!

Monkeys near Agnes #1's house in Kumi District

Cheers from Nairobi:)

Mother's Little Helper

The Rolling Stones sang in Mother’s Little Helper the following words “What a drag it is getting old” and nothing could be truer for me this morning.  There is not enough caffeine in this world to get me going, but I go on.

I am now in Nairobi, Kenya working for Arrow Web Hospital as a volunteer for the hospital that is in the Kayole-Soweto slum.  I don't live in the slum, but in a nice townhouse in Donholm with a couple of co-workers.  Nairobi is a far cry in many, many ways from rural Uganda.

My job is to develop a set of spreadsheets that will compile the information that all 14 of the reports that the Ministry of Health (MOH) requires the hospital to report, some are daily, some are weekly, some are monthly, or quarterly or annually.  Much of it is repetitive and the hospital needs something to save time filling out reports.  Hence, I have work to do.  And not enough time in the day to get this done by the time I go home in May, but I will be an Excel wizard when I do go home. 

It is said that time flies when you are having fun, but I say time flies when you hit middle age.  So back to my nested^infinity IF statements and linking cells and endless compiling the same information repeatedly as my need for more caffeine grows.