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13 years ago
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
Monday, June 18, 2007
Day 16, 17, 18
How to call me from America: 011 254 729502477
Sorry for the delay. I spent the weekend at Diani Beach and there was no internet access. Here goes:
Friday we took the older kids to the restaurant for soda, like we did with the younger ones. It was the same thing in that it was really the most fun they've had in a while. Having soda. Ridiculous. Anyway, we had a good time and then I stayed late and watched Spiderman 3 with them. Every Friday I buy them bootleg DVDs. I don't support pirated DVDs normally, but DVDs of any kind are scarce and I justify buying them by saying they're bootleg DVDs for charity. It's like stealing a loaf of bread to feed your starving family, except instead of starved for food they're starved for fun and instead of bread they are fed with quality entertainment. =)
So last week I gave them a pirated DVD of Pirates of the Carribean 1, 2, and 3. They don't fuck around here, you get a SHITLOAD of movies on one DVD. The one I gave them this Friday (three days ago) was the Marvel collection. It had Spiderman 1, 2, and 3, X-Men 1, 2, and 3, Ghost Rider, and Fantastic Four. ALL ON ONE DVD!!! Isn't that nuts? Anyway, I stayed and watched Spiderman 3 with them. Afterwards when I was getting ready to leave they started begging me to sleep over. It's SO IMPOSSIBLY hard to tell a dozen kids who are begging you to sleep over that you can't, but I really couldn't. All the other volunteers were counting on me, the beach huts were on my credit card, etc. So I promised them I would soon.
Saturday we went to Diani beach. It's about an hour away and a really nice white sand beach. After dividing up the cost of the cottage (which was ON the beach) the grand total was...$7 per person. Ridiculous. So we had a fabulous day on the beach. Before I get to the weekend though, I have to comment on the journey there.
Now, there's something mind bogglingly surreal about driving down a Kenyan backroad at 100mph listening to reggae in a mutato with 17.5 people in it (there was a pregnant woman)when the capacity is 14 people. I literally thinking "where the fuck am i, what the fuck am i doing". Reggae? Kenyan backroads? OVER maximum capacity? It was at once the most bizarre and terrifying moment of my life. Also, when we first got on the two Kenyans next to me started FREAKING out about putting on their seat belts. This was especially terrifying because no one has even once put on a seatbelt and here two Kenyans were freaking out over needing seatbelts. So I go to get mine...there isn't one there. The ride wasn't super horrible so I don't know what the freak out session was about, but at the time I really thought it was all over for this little queerling.
So over Saturday and Sunday we laid out, played in the water, ate, just had a really relaxing time, which I think everyone needed. It was really nice to decompress and let off some steam. For dinner on Saturday night we went to the 2nd nicest restaurant in Kenya (it was by our hotel, so we thought why not) and it was probably the only meal I've had here that would be considered acceptable in America. It was good, but it wouldn't last a day in New York. Nonetheless, I was very happy and able to eat AND ENJOY all my food. Then we went to the nightclub next door. We gave the DJ a playlist and ended up dancing to Bon Jovi, Maroon 5, Scissor Sisters, and...MADONNA!!!! all night long. It was so fun. I was craving some dancing and we got to. It was really awesome. We then went back to our cottage and drank and played cards until 5am. I went to bed at 4:30, the rest claim 5:00. Sidenote: Roomie fucked Clueless in the bathroom. Scandalous because I live with Roomie and work with Clueless.
This brings me to a point I've been wanting to make. It's getting exceedingly more difficult to keep this blog a secret. These nosy assholes keep wondering what I'm typing and why I'm always rushing to the internet cafe. Any tips how to keep my random gossip under wraps? And don't say shutting my mouth because we all know that's impossible.
On a very sad note, there was some tragedy this weekend. I lost my Dolce and Gabanna sunglasses in the ocean. I went wading around in the water with my glasses on and then decided to body surf, and off they went. I came here expecting to lose or destroy them, but not while at the beach. I blame the Xanax I took with lunch (stop juding me, I was on vacation).
Ok, almost time to go to Swahili lesson so I gotta start short handing it.
Shout-out: Darren S, he called me!! I love him; although knowing that diva she probably called me so that she'd get a shout-out.
Bitched out the driver on the ride home from Diani beach. I'm so tired of getting screwed because to them I'm a "mezunga" (white person).
No water at Dickson since yesterday.
Was locked out of the apartment for 2 hours yesterday.
HAVE TO GO!! LOVE YOU!!
Sorry for the delay. I spent the weekend at Diani Beach and there was no internet access. Here goes:
Friday we took the older kids to the restaurant for soda, like we did with the younger ones. It was the same thing in that it was really the most fun they've had in a while. Having soda. Ridiculous. Anyway, we had a good time and then I stayed late and watched Spiderman 3 with them. Every Friday I buy them bootleg DVDs. I don't support pirated DVDs normally, but DVDs of any kind are scarce and I justify buying them by saying they're bootleg DVDs for charity. It's like stealing a loaf of bread to feed your starving family, except instead of starved for food they're starved for fun and instead of bread they are fed with quality entertainment. =)
So last week I gave them a pirated DVD of Pirates of the Carribean 1, 2, and 3. They don't fuck around here, you get a SHITLOAD of movies on one DVD. The one I gave them this Friday (three days ago) was the Marvel collection. It had Spiderman 1, 2, and 3, X-Men 1, 2, and 3, Ghost Rider, and Fantastic Four. ALL ON ONE DVD!!! Isn't that nuts? Anyway, I stayed and watched Spiderman 3 with them. Afterwards when I was getting ready to leave they started begging me to sleep over. It's SO IMPOSSIBLY hard to tell a dozen kids who are begging you to sleep over that you can't, but I really couldn't. All the other volunteers were counting on me, the beach huts were on my credit card, etc. So I promised them I would soon.
Saturday we went to Diani beach. It's about an hour away and a really nice white sand beach. After dividing up the cost of the cottage (which was ON the beach) the grand total was...$7 per person. Ridiculous. So we had a fabulous day on the beach. Before I get to the weekend though, I have to comment on the journey there.
Now, there's something mind bogglingly surreal about driving down a Kenyan backroad at 100mph listening to reggae in a mutato with 17.5 people in it (there was a pregnant woman)when the capacity is 14 people. I literally thinking "where the fuck am i, what the fuck am i doing". Reggae? Kenyan backroads? OVER maximum capacity? It was at once the most bizarre and terrifying moment of my life. Also, when we first got on the two Kenyans next to me started FREAKING out about putting on their seat belts. This was especially terrifying because no one has even once put on a seatbelt and here two Kenyans were freaking out over needing seatbelts. So I go to get mine...there isn't one there. The ride wasn't super horrible so I don't know what the freak out session was about, but at the time I really thought it was all over for this little queerling.
So over Saturday and Sunday we laid out, played in the water, ate, just had a really relaxing time, which I think everyone needed. It was really nice to decompress and let off some steam. For dinner on Saturday night we went to the 2nd nicest restaurant in Kenya (it was by our hotel, so we thought why not) and it was probably the only meal I've had here that would be considered acceptable in America. It was good, but it wouldn't last a day in New York. Nonetheless, I was very happy and able to eat AND ENJOY all my food. Then we went to the nightclub next door. We gave the DJ a playlist and ended up dancing to Bon Jovi, Maroon 5, Scissor Sisters, and...MADONNA!!!! all night long. It was so fun. I was craving some dancing and we got to. It was really awesome. We then went back to our cottage and drank and played cards until 5am. I went to bed at 4:30, the rest claim 5:00. Sidenote: Roomie fucked Clueless in the bathroom. Scandalous because I live with Roomie and work with Clueless.
This brings me to a point I've been wanting to make. It's getting exceedingly more difficult to keep this blog a secret. These nosy assholes keep wondering what I'm typing and why I'm always rushing to the internet cafe. Any tips how to keep my random gossip under wraps? And don't say shutting my mouth because we all know that's impossible.
On a very sad note, there was some tragedy this weekend. I lost my Dolce and Gabanna sunglasses in the ocean. I went wading around in the water with my glasses on and then decided to body surf, and off they went. I came here expecting to lose or destroy them, but not while at the beach. I blame the Xanax I took with lunch (stop juding me, I was on vacation).
Ok, almost time to go to Swahili lesson so I gotta start short handing it.
Shout-out: Darren S, he called me!! I love him; although knowing that diva she probably called me so that she'd get a shout-out.
Bitched out the driver on the ride home from Diani beach. I'm so tired of getting screwed because to them I'm a "mezunga" (white person).
No water at Dickson since yesterday.
Was locked out of the apartment for 2 hours yesterday.
HAVE TO GO!! LOVE YOU!!
Friday, June 15, 2007
Day 15
WARNING WARNING WARNING
WARNING WARNING WARNING
Today's post is heavy and awful and not fun. Just trying to prep you. I apologize, but I need to say it and I need help and hopefully things will return to normal tomorrow.
Today was without a doubt the worst day of my life. I read the children's files. I don't think I've ever felt what I'm feeling and what I have been feeling all day. I've cried twice and am kind of going to start crying now but am in an internet cafe so it'd be a little awkward.
In two weeks I've come to love these kids more than I thought possible. This isn't some throwaway comment like "Kenya really changed me", but I really do care about these children immensely. Most of you know that I get attached fairly easily and that I really enjoy taking care of others, so it's not surprising that I feel this way about them, but it is surprising how quickly and deeply it's happened.
The files range from incest to molestation, prostitution to AIDS, child trafficking, torture, abuse, destitution and abandonment. After years of sexual abuse, at age 5 one of the children was sold to a pedophile overseas. Thank God that somehow en route the transfer failed and the child is now at Dickson. Another was a child prostitute and when the child first arrived at Dickson, the child was sexually aggressive towards the other, older children and had to be restrained. This child is under 10 years old. One is the product of a woman's rape by her uncle, another was routinely slashed on the legs with a razorblade, one was burned with red hot pokers, about half were sexually abused, the list is endless.
It's so overwhelming and infuriating and unfair. I don't know how to process this. Why do my kids live this life and battle these demons? Is it just because life is totally unfair? Not only do they have all this to deal with, but the cold hard fact is that they live in Kenya where there are no jobs, lots of working homeless people, and massive poverty all around. Even if they finish high school, there is not much out there for them. It's so fucking unbelievably unfair and overwhelming and I just don't know what to do.
If any of you have any advice, I'd love to hear it.
I'm supposed to go to the beach with other volunteers tomorrow. How am I supposed to enjoy my day? My life? I know we're supposed to compartmentalize and deal with our emotions and know that we can't save the world, but it's a lot easier said than done. I can't stop my life from happening or cease to do anything fun for myself, but how do I keep this information and the hopeless situation here from eating away at me for the rest of my life? Or am I supposed to let it eat away and just always be aware and do everything in my power to help as much and as often as possible?
I'm really sorry for being such a freak right now. I'm just in a really shitty and confused place right now.
I'll end with two funny things so that I don't completely ruin your day.
1) Even though I'm horny as hell, by the time I get back to America my twig and berries will be totally useless. These children manage to accidentally punch, kick, and slap me in the nuts about 25 times a day. When I'm picking up a baby, I get a nice hefty kick. When one of the nursery school kids bear hugs my leg, I get a punch. They kids are short too, so they will be running around under my legs and turn around without looking and headbutt me in the testicles. I think I need to buy a cup from Nakumaat.
2) The children are disgusting messes. They pee themselves all the time, need their asses wiped after the shit and are covered in snot 24/7. Snot that I have to wipe away with my hands because we don't have tissues. I know, I too am amazed that I can do it, but somehow, somewhere we all have it in us, it just takes time and the right situation to find it. At any rate, they are utterly disgusting and huge breeding grounds for bacteria and illness. So, about 37 times a day, I wash my hands, let them air dry (no towels) and then put instant hand sanitizer on. It is almost without fail that after I: change someone's urine soaked pants, put the urine pants away, put new pants on the kid, wash my hands, let them dry, and then santize them, after all that, I almost always have to pee. Then I go through the washing/drying/sanitizing ritual again. If this happened a few times it'd be funny, but it happens a few times a day. Why I'm such a moron that I don't think to pee before washing is anybodies guess, but after two weeks of being here, it happened twice today.
WARNING WARNING WARNING
Today's post is heavy and awful and not fun. Just trying to prep you. I apologize, but I need to say it and I need help and hopefully things will return to normal tomorrow.
Today was without a doubt the worst day of my life. I read the children's files. I don't think I've ever felt what I'm feeling and what I have been feeling all day. I've cried twice and am kind of going to start crying now but am in an internet cafe so it'd be a little awkward.
In two weeks I've come to love these kids more than I thought possible. This isn't some throwaway comment like "Kenya really changed me", but I really do care about these children immensely. Most of you know that I get attached fairly easily and that I really enjoy taking care of others, so it's not surprising that I feel this way about them, but it is surprising how quickly and deeply it's happened.
The files range from incest to molestation, prostitution to AIDS, child trafficking, torture, abuse, destitution and abandonment. After years of sexual abuse, at age 5 one of the children was sold to a pedophile overseas. Thank God that somehow en route the transfer failed and the child is now at Dickson. Another was a child prostitute and when the child first arrived at Dickson, the child was sexually aggressive towards the other, older children and had to be restrained. This child is under 10 years old. One is the product of a woman's rape by her uncle, another was routinely slashed on the legs with a razorblade, one was burned with red hot pokers, about half were sexually abused, the list is endless.
It's so overwhelming and infuriating and unfair. I don't know how to process this. Why do my kids live this life and battle these demons? Is it just because life is totally unfair? Not only do they have all this to deal with, but the cold hard fact is that they live in Kenya where there are no jobs, lots of working homeless people, and massive poverty all around. Even if they finish high school, there is not much out there for them. It's so fucking unbelievably unfair and overwhelming and I just don't know what to do.
If any of you have any advice, I'd love to hear it.
I'm supposed to go to the beach with other volunteers tomorrow. How am I supposed to enjoy my day? My life? I know we're supposed to compartmentalize and deal with our emotions and know that we can't save the world, but it's a lot easier said than done. I can't stop my life from happening or cease to do anything fun for myself, but how do I keep this information and the hopeless situation here from eating away at me for the rest of my life? Or am I supposed to let it eat away and just always be aware and do everything in my power to help as much and as often as possible?
I'm really sorry for being such a freak right now. I'm just in a really shitty and confused place right now.
I'll end with two funny things so that I don't completely ruin your day.
1) Even though I'm horny as hell, by the time I get back to America my twig and berries will be totally useless. These children manage to accidentally punch, kick, and slap me in the nuts about 25 times a day. When I'm picking up a baby, I get a nice hefty kick. When one of the nursery school kids bear hugs my leg, I get a punch. They kids are short too, so they will be running around under my legs and turn around without looking and headbutt me in the testicles. I think I need to buy a cup from Nakumaat.
2) The children are disgusting messes. They pee themselves all the time, need their asses wiped after the shit and are covered in snot 24/7. Snot that I have to wipe away with my hands because we don't have tissues. I know, I too am amazed that I can do it, but somehow, somewhere we all have it in us, it just takes time and the right situation to find it. At any rate, they are utterly disgusting and huge breeding grounds for bacteria and illness. So, about 37 times a day, I wash my hands, let them air dry (no towels) and then put instant hand sanitizer on. It is almost without fail that after I: change someone's urine soaked pants, put the urine pants away, put new pants on the kid, wash my hands, let them dry, and then santize them, after all that, I almost always have to pee. Then I go through the washing/drying/sanitizing ritual again. If this happened a few times it'd be funny, but it happens a few times a day. Why I'm such a moron that I don't think to pee before washing is anybodies guess, but after two weeks of being here, it happened twice today.
Thursday, June 14, 2007
Day 14
I'm fucking exhausted, the pictures took forever, here's a short blog posting.
I love Nick Cowan. Who is lucky enough to live with their best friend in the most fabulous city in the world? Me. He called me today, my first call from the states. That's not why I love him tho. I love him because he's awesome. End of story.
I got my punishment for getting the Xanax. I do believe that when you do something bad, you're punished for it. My punishment? I lost my z-pack. The whole reason I went to the doctor and the actual drug I needed, and I lost it. Luckily, I took my receipt in to another pharmacy and they gave me another z-pack. Also, after seeing my receipt and after I asked, they gave me another 30 Xanax. I know, I'm bad.
Today my lesson plan made a girl cry. Nothing makes you feel like a bigger asshole than making a female, 10 year old orphan cry. I sort of wanted to cry too though. This girl did not understand the concept of "before" and "after". Most of them didn't. These kids speak English and are in 3rd grade but no one bothers to check if they understand simple concepts, they just move them along. I ask about their days and they can regale me with tales of what happened, but they don't understand "before" and "after" as in "Monday is before Tuesday and Friday is after Thursday". It was fucking horrible. I gave them candy after our break time and all was forgotten on their end, but I still feel pretty fucking shitty. I'm a douche. (By the way, I didn't yell at her or anything at all. She was crying out of frustration with herself, but nonetheless, I felt awful).
Prince William went to high school with...Prince William!!! Isn't that wild? I just found out last nite.
Today I went to a boxing class in Magongo. It was pretty bad. They were making me do all these exercises that are bad for you like bouncing while you're stretch and full sit-ups on a concrete floor. Still it was pretty fun and it was nice to box a bit. A hot room filled with sweaty, muscular African men definitely gave me some jungle fever. If ever I craved some chocolate syrup, that was the time.
I've been at the internet cafe for like 1.5 hours now, I have to go. Below are explanations of the pics.
1. One of the urine soaked, dilapidated foam mattresses the children sleep on.
2. Same thing.
3.The "kiosk" by Dickson. That is the owner and her daughter. I buy a mango from them almost every day.
4. A house in Mombasa.
5. The road I walk down every day to get home. The building after the white building on the right is my apartment.
6. Migadini, the neighborhood Dickson is in.
7. Brooke's foot after one of our walks home from Dickson.
8. The homestay I'm in. Yes, the bathroom sink is off the living room.
9. The shower. (I couldn't turn the pic)
10. The room Roomie and I sleep in.
11. Mombasa.
12. Mombasa.
13. Me and Milka on the day we took them out for soda.
14.Mwongi.
15. Mwongi. He's a total shit, but super cute. Why must I always be drawn to assholes?
16. Brooke teaching our afternoon kids.
17. Soda day.
18. Manu.
19. Manu.
I love Nick Cowan. Who is lucky enough to live with their best friend in the most fabulous city in the world? Me. He called me today, my first call from the states. That's not why I love him tho. I love him because he's awesome. End of story.
I got my punishment for getting the Xanax. I do believe that when you do something bad, you're punished for it. My punishment? I lost my z-pack. The whole reason I went to the doctor and the actual drug I needed, and I lost it. Luckily, I took my receipt in to another pharmacy and they gave me another z-pack. Also, after seeing my receipt and after I asked, they gave me another 30 Xanax. I know, I'm bad.
Today my lesson plan made a girl cry. Nothing makes you feel like a bigger asshole than making a female, 10 year old orphan cry. I sort of wanted to cry too though. This girl did not understand the concept of "before" and "after". Most of them didn't. These kids speak English and are in 3rd grade but no one bothers to check if they understand simple concepts, they just move them along. I ask about their days and they can regale me with tales of what happened, but they don't understand "before" and "after" as in "Monday is before Tuesday and Friday is after Thursday". It was fucking horrible. I gave them candy after our break time and all was forgotten on their end, but I still feel pretty fucking shitty. I'm a douche. (By the way, I didn't yell at her or anything at all. She was crying out of frustration with herself, but nonetheless, I felt awful).
Prince William went to high school with...Prince William!!! Isn't that wild? I just found out last nite.
Today I went to a boxing class in Magongo. It was pretty bad. They were making me do all these exercises that are bad for you like bouncing while you're stretch and full sit-ups on a concrete floor. Still it was pretty fun and it was nice to box a bit. A hot room filled with sweaty, muscular African men definitely gave me some jungle fever. If ever I craved some chocolate syrup, that was the time.
I've been at the internet cafe for like 1.5 hours now, I have to go. Below are explanations of the pics.
1. One of the urine soaked, dilapidated foam mattresses the children sleep on.
2. Same thing.
3.The "kiosk" by Dickson. That is the owner and her daughter. I buy a mango from them almost every day.
4. A house in Mombasa.
5. The road I walk down every day to get home. The building after the white building on the right is my apartment.
6. Migadini, the neighborhood Dickson is in.
7. Brooke's foot after one of our walks home from Dickson.
8. The homestay I'm in. Yes, the bathroom sink is off the living room.
9. The shower. (I couldn't turn the pic)
10. The room Roomie and I sleep in.
11. Mombasa.
12. Mombasa.
13. Me and Milka on the day we took them out for soda.
14.Mwongi.
15. Mwongi. He's a total shit, but super cute. Why must I always be drawn to assholes?
16. Brooke teaching our afternoon kids.
17. Soda day.
18. Manu.
19. Manu.
Pictures
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Wednesday, June 13, 2007
Day 13
A lot to address:
1) The "Annonymous" comments have got to stop. This whole 'guess who' bullshit is impossible. I'm extremely popular and have many many important friends. I have no idea who you are unless you sign your name. You don't need to sign up for blogger, just type your name at the end of the comment.
2) Comment. I don't know where to go with my posts unless I get feedback. Today's first shout-out goes to Ms. Courtney Vargas, Esq. She has been commenting up a storm and that's why she gets the gold star.
3) Gold star number 2 goes to Tom Bollich. He's a genius. Before I came, he got me this little pack of soap. There are 50 strips of soap in there. It's like a Listerine Breath Strip pack. They're these thin, film-like sheets. You get them wet and you have soap. Tom, you are my lifesaver (literally, this place is CRAWLING with bacteria).
4) Anderson Cooper has some DEVOTED fans. He's a faggot, get over it.
5) Be careful what you wish for. After my previous complaint about the lack of dick in my life, I got some today. More specifically, a homeless man on glue showed the entire mutato his dick as we drove by. Apparently I have to be more specific. In case you were wondering, it's true. Black men are huge. I could never personally vouch for this having never been treated to some brown sugar, but if homeless dick is representative of all dick, then to all black men I say, Mazel Tov.
6) Speaking of Mazel Tov, to all my homeJews, let me tell you, you'll love this place. I have to haggle with everyone. Those of you that know me well know that I hate bargaining. I just take it for what they say. Here however, they full on, defiantly overcharge you in expectation of a negotiation. Every fucking day it's something. My water or my taxi ride or my mutato ride or my gummy bears, I have yet to be charged the same price twice. This entire nation is one big negotiation.
7) The African women are work mules. They make the work of Iranian women look like the work of American women. In America, they use a Swiffer. In Iran, they use a broom. In Kenya, they use a bundle of sticks held together with a rubberband...and they still do better than anyone else! I bought an actual broom, and I sweep as though both Madonna and the Queen of England are coming to dinner and every day the women come, laugh, and use their sticks to sweep up another pound of dirt. If you give them a citrus juicer and a rock, they'll make you rock-ade. Plus, they don't break a sweat. Meanwhile, I'm wetter than a hooker in a Swiss bank.
8) This constipation issue is ridiculous. I eat more fruits here than I do over gay pride weekend and yet nothing.
9) My day. Dickson was really good. The kids were well behaved, we had water. Lunch was a piece of white bread and shredded cabbage, but we did get a piece of mango at the end. If you think you've eaten a mango before, you haven't. I eat like 3 a day. They're so succulent and sweet and mind bogglingly satisfying here. Tomorrow and Friday the teacher for the 2nd graders won't be at Dickson, so I'm teaching them while Idiot and now new girl (Clueless) teach the 3rd graders. The teacher pulled me aside specifically and told me to teach her class while she's away, so that was a pretty good feeling. I stayed after for an hour today to play with the kids. I played soccer with one of the kids for about 30 min and helped another with his wash (the 12 year old bed wetter), and disturbingly enough, everything reeked of urine. Not good. The theory is he has nightmares about being tortured by his father. Well, not so much nightmares as flashbacks. Anyway, helped him with wash and then left. There was a huge traffic jam on the way home and people just started getting out of cars. None of the drivers thankfully, but virtually every passenger (but me) got out and started walking and weaving between cars. It was just like the Kylie Minogue video "Red Blooded Woman", be check it out. I was 2 seconds away from breaking out my skinny jeans and shimmery top so that I could properly belt out "You'll never get to heaven if you're scared of getting hiiiiiiiigh" when traffic started moving. Went to my Swahili lesson where I sat next to Stallion and on the taxi ride home I virtually sat in Stallion's lap. I had a contact high that lasted well through dinner.
Internet cafe man just told me it's time to go, so I bid you adieu. Tutoanana (See you later).
1) The "Annonymous" comments have got to stop. This whole 'guess who' bullshit is impossible. I'm extremely popular and have many many important friends. I have no idea who you are unless you sign your name. You don't need to sign up for blogger, just type your name at the end of the comment.
2) Comment. I don't know where to go with my posts unless I get feedback. Today's first shout-out goes to Ms. Courtney Vargas, Esq. She has been commenting up a storm and that's why she gets the gold star.
3) Gold star number 2 goes to Tom Bollich. He's a genius. Before I came, he got me this little pack of soap. There are 50 strips of soap in there. It's like a Listerine Breath Strip pack. They're these thin, film-like sheets. You get them wet and you have soap. Tom, you are my lifesaver (literally, this place is CRAWLING with bacteria).
4) Anderson Cooper has some DEVOTED fans. He's a faggot, get over it.
5) Be careful what you wish for. After my previous complaint about the lack of dick in my life, I got some today. More specifically, a homeless man on glue showed the entire mutato his dick as we drove by. Apparently I have to be more specific. In case you were wondering, it's true. Black men are huge. I could never personally vouch for this having never been treated to some brown sugar, but if homeless dick is representative of all dick, then to all black men I say, Mazel Tov.
6) Speaking of Mazel Tov, to all my homeJews, let me tell you, you'll love this place. I have to haggle with everyone. Those of you that know me well know that I hate bargaining. I just take it for what they say. Here however, they full on, defiantly overcharge you in expectation of a negotiation. Every fucking day it's something. My water or my taxi ride or my mutato ride or my gummy bears, I have yet to be charged the same price twice. This entire nation is one big negotiation.
7) The African women are work mules. They make the work of Iranian women look like the work of American women. In America, they use a Swiffer. In Iran, they use a broom. In Kenya, they use a bundle of sticks held together with a rubberband...and they still do better than anyone else! I bought an actual broom, and I sweep as though both Madonna and the Queen of England are coming to dinner and every day the women come, laugh, and use their sticks to sweep up another pound of dirt. If you give them a citrus juicer and a rock, they'll make you rock-ade. Plus, they don't break a sweat. Meanwhile, I'm wetter than a hooker in a Swiss bank.
8) This constipation issue is ridiculous. I eat more fruits here than I do over gay pride weekend and yet nothing.
9) My day. Dickson was really good. The kids were well behaved, we had water. Lunch was a piece of white bread and shredded cabbage, but we did get a piece of mango at the end. If you think you've eaten a mango before, you haven't. I eat like 3 a day. They're so succulent and sweet and mind bogglingly satisfying here. Tomorrow and Friday the teacher for the 2nd graders won't be at Dickson, so I'm teaching them while Idiot and now new girl (Clueless) teach the 3rd graders. The teacher pulled me aside specifically and told me to teach her class while she's away, so that was a pretty good feeling. I stayed after for an hour today to play with the kids. I played soccer with one of the kids for about 30 min and helped another with his wash (the 12 year old bed wetter), and disturbingly enough, everything reeked of urine. Not good. The theory is he has nightmares about being tortured by his father. Well, not so much nightmares as flashbacks. Anyway, helped him with wash and then left. There was a huge traffic jam on the way home and people just started getting out of cars. None of the drivers thankfully, but virtually every passenger (but me) got out and started walking and weaving between cars. It was just like the Kylie Minogue video "Red Blooded Woman", be check it out. I was 2 seconds away from breaking out my skinny jeans and shimmery top so that I could properly belt out "You'll never get to heaven if you're scared of getting hiiiiiiiigh" when traffic started moving. Went to my Swahili lesson where I sat next to Stallion and on the taxi ride home I virtually sat in Stallion's lap. I had a contact high that lasted well through dinner.
Internet cafe man just told me it's time to go, so I bid you adieu. Tutoanana (See you later).
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
Day 12
Another example of my complete and total devotion to you:
Everyone is having drinks at The Little Chef Cafe across the street. I dropped them off and headed over here to write. What song was The Little Chef Cafe playing? "Like A Prayer" by Madonna. I blew my opportunity to hear Madonna in Africa, to pretend for one glorious moment that I was at a fabulous gay bar that was filled with young gents who truly value Madonna, to sing along and be viewed as a crazy American instead of a crazy fudgepacker. I blew that opportunity so that I could tell you about my day. You. My loyal fans. All three of you.
Speaking of fudgepackers, something I've been meaning to share. From 6-7am here they have Anderson Cooper 360 on TV and the maid/nanny/slave at my house likes to watch it. Now some of you know, but most probably don't, that I hate Anderson Cooper. I think he's a total douche, a closet case pussy, and an all around weakling. So to have to see his queer, overly made up, Botox'd face every morning is annoying.
Today at Dickson we ran out of water at 8:00am. What constitutes plumbing in Mombasa is basically like a mini water tower per building. It gets filled weekly and the pipes all connect to it. If it's empty, there's no water. It was bad. The toilets were piled 3ft high with the shit and piss of 28 children, the laundry was done in like 12 oz of bottled water. We didn't mop the floors nor do much of the cleaning. The kids did not wash their hands once today. I used instant hand sanitizer like it was falling from the sky. It was really nuts and I'm hoping we'll have water tomorrow, but I'm fairly certain we won't. I left at 4:00 and the water guy hadn't come and most things end at 5:00 here, so it's likely there's no water there right now and that he'll hopefully come in the morning (if we're lucky).
The toddlers and primary kids were very well behaved today. We played, we laughed, we went for a long walk. It was good. The older kids were all very good in the afternoon except for 1. She's about 2 inches away from getting the smack down. If she doesn't shape up they will hit her on the knuckles with a switch. I'm hoping she shapes up as I don't really believe in that form of punishment. That said, it's not up to me. It's the Kenyan way and I have to accept that they do what works for them. Dickson is really good in that the punishments are done under supervision by management and are very limited. Girls get it on the hands, guys on the butt. At other projects, the kids get beaten with a switch. Sometimes a dozen lashes or something. At ours it's more about embarrassing the child than actually hurting the child.
So, Dickson was a good, but trying day. My adventure began upon getting back to town. I finally caved and went to Aga Khan Hospital to get some medication for my sinus infection. There are no clinics here, you just go to the hospital. It took just under 3 hours but I finally got azithromyacin (a Z-pack, but the old school kind, not the actual pack) and 30 Xanax. I figured as long as I was seeing the doctor I'd ask for the hook up.
This was my visit to the doctor, almost verbatim-
Doctor: How are you?
Me: I'm doing well, thank you.
Doctor: Obviously not, you're here.
Me: Ya. I need azithromyacin and xanax.
Doctor: Why?
Me: I have a sinus infection and I'm uncomfortable in your country. It's stressful.
Doctor: Are you an addict?
Me: No. I'm a volunteer at Dickson.
Doctor: Ok. I just hope you're not an addict.
Me: I'm not.
Doctor: How many do you want?
Me: I'm here for 6 weeks, so 6x7= 42.
Doctor: I'll give you 30. Do you want 0.25 or 0.5mg?
Me: 0.5.
Now you'll notice no examination went on. We just talked. He didn't look in my nose for the sinusitis nor ask anything other than if I were a drug addict. I love this country.
I paid $46 for a "doctor's visit" (I don't know if that qualified as a doctor's visit, but technically it was a doctor's visit), 30 xanan, and 3 azithromyacin. In America, where I have health insurance, that would have cost me $50. $20 copay for each prescription and $10 doctor's copay. Here, it was $46, plus no hassles about getting the xanax. Can we say fabulous?
Ok, off to have some beers. The perfect chaser for .5 mg.
Everyone is having drinks at The Little Chef Cafe across the street. I dropped them off and headed over here to write. What song was The Little Chef Cafe playing? "Like A Prayer" by Madonna. I blew my opportunity to hear Madonna in Africa, to pretend for one glorious moment that I was at a fabulous gay bar that was filled with young gents who truly value Madonna, to sing along and be viewed as a crazy American instead of a crazy fudgepacker. I blew that opportunity so that I could tell you about my day. You. My loyal fans. All three of you.
Speaking of fudgepackers, something I've been meaning to share. From 6-7am here they have Anderson Cooper 360 on TV and the maid/nanny/slave at my house likes to watch it. Now some of you know, but most probably don't, that I hate Anderson Cooper. I think he's a total douche, a closet case pussy, and an all around weakling. So to have to see his queer, overly made up, Botox'd face every morning is annoying.
Today at Dickson we ran out of water at 8:00am. What constitutes plumbing in Mombasa is basically like a mini water tower per building. It gets filled weekly and the pipes all connect to it. If it's empty, there's no water. It was bad. The toilets were piled 3ft high with the shit and piss of 28 children, the laundry was done in like 12 oz of bottled water. We didn't mop the floors nor do much of the cleaning. The kids did not wash their hands once today. I used instant hand sanitizer like it was falling from the sky. It was really nuts and I'm hoping we'll have water tomorrow, but I'm fairly certain we won't. I left at 4:00 and the water guy hadn't come and most things end at 5:00 here, so it's likely there's no water there right now and that he'll hopefully come in the morning (if we're lucky).
The toddlers and primary kids were very well behaved today. We played, we laughed, we went for a long walk. It was good. The older kids were all very good in the afternoon except for 1. She's about 2 inches away from getting the smack down. If she doesn't shape up they will hit her on the knuckles with a switch. I'm hoping she shapes up as I don't really believe in that form of punishment. That said, it's not up to me. It's the Kenyan way and I have to accept that they do what works for them. Dickson is really good in that the punishments are done under supervision by management and are very limited. Girls get it on the hands, guys on the butt. At other projects, the kids get beaten with a switch. Sometimes a dozen lashes or something. At ours it's more about embarrassing the child than actually hurting the child.
So, Dickson was a good, but trying day. My adventure began upon getting back to town. I finally caved and went to Aga Khan Hospital to get some medication for my sinus infection. There are no clinics here, you just go to the hospital. It took just under 3 hours but I finally got azithromyacin (a Z-pack, but the old school kind, not the actual pack) and 30 Xanax. I figured as long as I was seeing the doctor I'd ask for the hook up.
This was my visit to the doctor, almost verbatim-
Doctor: How are you?
Me: I'm doing well, thank you.
Doctor: Obviously not, you're here.
Me: Ya. I need azithromyacin and xanax.
Doctor: Why?
Me: I have a sinus infection and I'm uncomfortable in your country. It's stressful.
Doctor: Are you an addict?
Me: No. I'm a volunteer at Dickson.
Doctor: Ok. I just hope you're not an addict.
Me: I'm not.
Doctor: How many do you want?
Me: I'm here for 6 weeks, so 6x7= 42.
Doctor: I'll give you 30. Do you want 0.25 or 0.5mg?
Me: 0.5.
Now you'll notice no examination went on. We just talked. He didn't look in my nose for the sinusitis nor ask anything other than if I were a drug addict. I love this country.
I paid $46 for a "doctor's visit" (I don't know if that qualified as a doctor's visit, but technically it was a doctor's visit), 30 xanan, and 3 azithromyacin. In America, where I have health insurance, that would have cost me $50. $20 copay for each prescription and $10 doctor's copay. Here, it was $46, plus no hassles about getting the xanax. Can we say fabulous?
Ok, off to have some beers. The perfect chaser for .5 mg.
Monday, June 11, 2007
Day 11
Worst. Day. Ever.
Before I get into today, I gotta tell a story about last night. After we left the internet cafe, Prince William, Roomie, and myself stopped at one of the hotels for a couple of beers. Tusker Beer, look into it, it's quite tasty. We ended up staying for a while and on the way home were followed by 3 street kids, roughly ages 6, 9, and 14. They start begging, we say no and keep walking. They follow for blocks. The 6 year old then grabs my hand and links his fingers into mine and keeps asking for money. It was really getting to me, but you have to be firm with them otherwise all the street kids will hit you up. Furthermore, as he was asking his 8 year old buddy was HUFFING GLUE RIGHT IN FRONT OF US. He was walking and holding the jar up to his mouth and taking deep breaths. I was honestly about to just bust out crying. I had like a massive panic attack in the car. Under 10 year old homeless drug addicted kids. It'll break even the stoniest of hearts. They then climbed onto the "taxi" we were taking home until we finally made the driver pull over and shoo them off the roof and sidedoors of the "car". I use quotes because the taxis here are like motorized pedicabs. I'll post pics by the end of the week. Anyway, he finally got rid of them but it was about a 20 minute ordeal from beginning to end. Watching an 8 year old huff glue mixed with diesel fuel is probably the most gruesome thing I've ever seen.
Adding that incident to my day was really awful. The situation here is quite honestly hopeless. There are so many things wrong here it's overwhelming. We can't mail things to Kenya upon returning to the states because the mail system here is corrupt. They will open packages from the US, look for anything good, take it and then charge the Kenyan receiver an 'import tax' of whatever amount they choose. The mail is corrupt, the police are corrupt, the orphanages are corrupt, the hospitals are corrupt, the government is corrupt. Every day is getting worse and worse. I know this is a huge shift from yesterday's amazing post of beauty, but between that post and right now, it's just been bad.
The kids were punching, biting, and kicking each other ALL DAY LONG. I think there were more children crying today at Dickson than there were children crying ALL last week. I found out the 12 year old bed wetter was not just abused but rather tortured by his father with the preferred method being red hot pokers against the boy's skin. The bratty girl in my afternoon class had such a hissy fit about having to clean the room today (everyone takes turns) that she stormed out 30 minutes early and was not reprimanded. My lunch was pinto and kidney beans and had a dead fly in it and my sinus infection is taking on epic proportions.
Sorry to be such a Debbie Downer but it's been a rough day.
Now, I know that my 3 fans don't check my blog daily to get a dose of an utterly bleak situation, so I'm going to shift gears.
I didn't wear any sunblock this weekend. I normally wear 45 on my face and 50 on my body. As a result, I have a gorgeous golden glow to my already stunning body. We're going to the beach this weekend. Mombasa is an island, so there are many to choose from. We're going to Diani and are going to stay overnight. It's going to cost about $7-$10 per person. RIDICULOUS!!
I'm taking Swahili lessons 2x a week and there's this stud volunteer who has been here for a while who's also going. He's from Cali and has like a football player build but in the good way, not in the fat way. He's a total surfer dude and super sweet and cute. Nothing to share than 1) he's hot, and 2) I'm getting insanely horny. Not even to like hook up, but just to do some male-on-male-brush-up-against-him-on-your-way-from-the-dancefloor-to-the-bar action. It's funny how important physical contact is. I'm always hugging and kissing the kids, but it's like me comforting them as opposed to like a genuine display of reciprocal affection. Until it stops, you don't realize how much you crave like a hug from you friend or a slap on the back or a kiss on the cheek hello or a blowjob in the bathroom. I mean, they make life worth living.
By the way, I'd like to take this opportunity to publicly apologize to my mother and father for my completely uninhibited posts. I'm sorry. Sadly for you, you two are not my target audience and are just going to have to avert your eyes from time to time. However, I'm certain that you're used to doing that after having raised me.
I love you mom. I love you dad. You two are the best parents in the world. If anyone disagrees, I'm going to bring him back a malaria riddled souvenir encased in yellow fever with a typhoid filling.
Before I get into today, I gotta tell a story about last night. After we left the internet cafe, Prince William, Roomie, and myself stopped at one of the hotels for a couple of beers. Tusker Beer, look into it, it's quite tasty. We ended up staying for a while and on the way home were followed by 3 street kids, roughly ages 6, 9, and 14. They start begging, we say no and keep walking. They follow for blocks. The 6 year old then grabs my hand and links his fingers into mine and keeps asking for money. It was really getting to me, but you have to be firm with them otherwise all the street kids will hit you up. Furthermore, as he was asking his 8 year old buddy was HUFFING GLUE RIGHT IN FRONT OF US. He was walking and holding the jar up to his mouth and taking deep breaths. I was honestly about to just bust out crying. I had like a massive panic attack in the car. Under 10 year old homeless drug addicted kids. It'll break even the stoniest of hearts. They then climbed onto the "taxi" we were taking home until we finally made the driver pull over and shoo them off the roof and sidedoors of the "car". I use quotes because the taxis here are like motorized pedicabs. I'll post pics by the end of the week. Anyway, he finally got rid of them but it was about a 20 minute ordeal from beginning to end. Watching an 8 year old huff glue mixed with diesel fuel is probably the most gruesome thing I've ever seen.
Adding that incident to my day was really awful. The situation here is quite honestly hopeless. There are so many things wrong here it's overwhelming. We can't mail things to Kenya upon returning to the states because the mail system here is corrupt. They will open packages from the US, look for anything good, take it and then charge the Kenyan receiver an 'import tax' of whatever amount they choose. The mail is corrupt, the police are corrupt, the orphanages are corrupt, the hospitals are corrupt, the government is corrupt. Every day is getting worse and worse. I know this is a huge shift from yesterday's amazing post of beauty, but between that post and right now, it's just been bad.
The kids were punching, biting, and kicking each other ALL DAY LONG. I think there were more children crying today at Dickson than there were children crying ALL last week. I found out the 12 year old bed wetter was not just abused but rather tortured by his father with the preferred method being red hot pokers against the boy's skin. The bratty girl in my afternoon class had such a hissy fit about having to clean the room today (everyone takes turns) that she stormed out 30 minutes early and was not reprimanded. My lunch was pinto and kidney beans and had a dead fly in it and my sinus infection is taking on epic proportions.
Sorry to be such a Debbie Downer but it's been a rough day.
Now, I know that my 3 fans don't check my blog daily to get a dose of an utterly bleak situation, so I'm going to shift gears.
I didn't wear any sunblock this weekend. I normally wear 45 on my face and 50 on my body. As a result, I have a gorgeous golden glow to my already stunning body. We're going to the beach this weekend. Mombasa is an island, so there are many to choose from. We're going to Diani and are going to stay overnight. It's going to cost about $7-$10 per person. RIDICULOUS!!
I'm taking Swahili lessons 2x a week and there's this stud volunteer who has been here for a while who's also going. He's from Cali and has like a football player build but in the good way, not in the fat way. He's a total surfer dude and super sweet and cute. Nothing to share than 1) he's hot, and 2) I'm getting insanely horny. Not even to like hook up, but just to do some male-on-male-brush-up-against-him-on-your-way-from-the-dancefloor-to-the-bar action. It's funny how important physical contact is. I'm always hugging and kissing the kids, but it's like me comforting them as opposed to like a genuine display of reciprocal affection. Until it stops, you don't realize how much you crave like a hug from you friend or a slap on the back or a kiss on the cheek hello or a blowjob in the bathroom. I mean, they make life worth living.
By the way, I'd like to take this opportunity to publicly apologize to my mother and father for my completely uninhibited posts. I'm sorry. Sadly for you, you two are not my target audience and are just going to have to avert your eyes from time to time. However, I'm certain that you're used to doing that after having raised me.
I love you mom. I love you dad. You two are the best parents in the world. If anyone disagrees, I'm going to bring him back a malaria riddled souvenir encased in yellow fever with a typhoid filling.
Sunday, June 10, 2007
Day 9 and 10
So I'm back from the Red Elephant Lodge in the Tsavo East National Park, that's where the safari was. It was AMAZING!!! AM-MAZ-ING. Amazing.
Getting there was nuts. There are no traffic laws here. If you think Iran is bad (for those of you that have been, obviously most of you haven't, which makes no sense because it's like the funnest, coolest, most liberal and free place ever!), then you haven't seen Mombasa because it is CRIZAZY here. They drive on both sides of the road, routinely play chicken with semi-trucks and drive on the sidewalk. Which brings me to something I keep forgetting to mention. I have a solution to America's caffeine addiction problem. A daily dose of death. Nothing wakes you up like nearly getting run over by a car, taxi, mutato, or semi at 7:00am. Every day I nearly die and as a result I've never been more alert at an ungodly hour.
So the safari was great. There was a pool, great food (although all my homemade meals have been great too), and it was just all around beautiful. I'll post pics. I was rooming with Prince William (I'm gonna use pseudonyms because I don't want people peeking over my shoulder and seeing their name) and it was fun. Recently gone through a bad breakup with some bitch in England (but sadly for me did not need 'consoling') and is getting his master's in marketing. I skipped one of the four safaris and stayed back with the Princess of Westchester so that we could lay out by the pool. We bonded and I've realized that people from Westchester/Scarsdale/Long Island/etc. are like people from the Valley. Like a dirty, smudgy photocopy of people from New York City/LA. Essentially the same, but really not as good. Nonetheless, we bonded and she's amazingly fun and sweet. BTW; in case you were worried like me, I had her take a digital photo of me in my swimsuit so that I could see how I look after 10 days in Africa and let me ease your worries...I still look amazing.
The one thing that kinda sucked about the trip was that the people I'm travelling with consist of a group of young people and/or Europeans, so they don't tip. Like at all. We were at a fabulous lodge with live music, good service, etc. and they all assume all inclusive means tips. I told them a few times, but no one really did so. It's just shitty. Also, I'm kind of correcting a lot of false assumptions these kids are making and it's going over extremely well. I know sarcasm isn't clear online, but that was intended to be sarcastic. People don't like to be corrected, but I can't idly sit by and let them say that the Kenyans are lazy and need to learn to work for their money or whatever. It's really not that simple for a lot of them. Poverty is a cycle and when there is LITERALLY no opportunity to escape it, you can't say they're lazy or just not trying hard enough. There are no homeless shelters and homeless 35 year olds with no education don't get jobs in a place where there are no jobs. It's a vicious cycle. At any rate, when I say things like that they think I'm an asshole and I totally am an asshole, but not because I correct them. Mostly I'm an asshole because it's fun.
I have a new favorite animal. They look like deer, but are THE SIZE OF A TOY POODLE!!! They weigh ten pounds or so and are fast and look just like a deer. They are so cute. We saw a few on the safari. Their name? A dick-dick. I kid you not. Even in the wilderness, I'm drawn to dick.
Finally of note, we saw about 15 elephants at a watering hole. It was so beautiful. I'll post those pics ASAP. While there I was looking at everything and was just blown away at home lucky I am. There are people all over the world, people all over the US even, who never get on a plane, who never travel, who never see the things I get to see. And I don't just mean in Africa, I mean in life. I've lived in LA & NYC, I've spent time in Europe, the Middle East, and a ton of places in between. I am really really really blessed and lucky and was really blown away by some of the sights. Seeing the squalor that people live in was eye opening, but seeing the beauty here was an equally moving experience.
On to more bitchery.
My dear friend Michael L is another one of those divas I was mentioning. My last post asked for commentary but what does this queen bee do? She sends me an email. It was a sweet one and much appreciated, but damnit woman, unless you want another black eye, you better learn to listen! Now fix me my dinner.
In Michael's defense he is a pretty important guy and can't be bothered with details, but whatever. I'm important and I listen. Or at least nod while pretending to do so.
I think I mentioned this before, but being here is making me really distrustful and I HHHHHAAAATTTEEE that. We stopped at a rest stop on the way back and I wanted a bag of gummy bears. I've become addicted to them here. They cost 68Ksh (Kenyan Shillings) at the Nakumaat (see: Kenyan Wal-Mart). I ask her how much, she eyes me up and down and says 300Ksh. At a rest stop they normally run 75-100. I looked at her, laughed, and left. I just hate having to be on my guard all the time because they just try to stick it to you all the time. Now, this is a gross generalization, but it happens so often that it's just downright infuriating. You all know what a massive bargain shopper I am, so to be gouged like that just really sticks in my craw.
Speaking of sticking things in my craw, I finally had a little privacy at the lodge so that's now 2 times in 10 days.
I'm at Dickson next week and then they want to move me to the Onesmus Boys Centre where glue addicted street kids go live. Glue is heavily abused here. They buy a jar of it and inhale the living shit out of it to get high off the fumes. It's really dangerous and deadly, highly addictive and just plain disturbing. Dickson (they place I work) is the sister orphanage of the boys center and they asked me to go try it out there as they need male influences there. I don't know how much the boys are gonna like flat ironed hair, flared low rise jeans and a light coat of sheer lipgloss, but I'm gonna give it a whirl.
Finally, I'm a raging idiot. I've been trying to figure out how to get my pics from my camera to you. None of the computers have accessible USB ports and my wireless at home is so slow, so I just email one pic at a time over the course of a 20 minute upload when we finally figured out how to get pics to you. Buy a CD, burn from my laptop, use CD at internet cafe. Hopefully MANY MANY MANY pics will be coming soon.
Getting there was nuts. There are no traffic laws here. If you think Iran is bad (for those of you that have been, obviously most of you haven't, which makes no sense because it's like the funnest, coolest, most liberal and free place ever!), then you haven't seen Mombasa because it is CRIZAZY here. They drive on both sides of the road, routinely play chicken with semi-trucks and drive on the sidewalk. Which brings me to something I keep forgetting to mention. I have a solution to America's caffeine addiction problem. A daily dose of death. Nothing wakes you up like nearly getting run over by a car, taxi, mutato, or semi at 7:00am. Every day I nearly die and as a result I've never been more alert at an ungodly hour.
So the safari was great. There was a pool, great food (although all my homemade meals have been great too), and it was just all around beautiful. I'll post pics. I was rooming with Prince William (I'm gonna use pseudonyms because I don't want people peeking over my shoulder and seeing their name) and it was fun. Recently gone through a bad breakup with some bitch in England (but sadly for me did not need 'consoling') and is getting his master's in marketing. I skipped one of the four safaris and stayed back with the Princess of Westchester so that we could lay out by the pool. We bonded and I've realized that people from Westchester/Scarsdale/Long Island/etc. are like people from the Valley. Like a dirty, smudgy photocopy of people from New York City/LA. Essentially the same, but really not as good. Nonetheless, we bonded and she's amazingly fun and sweet. BTW; in case you were worried like me, I had her take a digital photo of me in my swimsuit so that I could see how I look after 10 days in Africa and let me ease your worries...I still look amazing.
The one thing that kinda sucked about the trip was that the people I'm travelling with consist of a group of young people and/or Europeans, so they don't tip. Like at all. We were at a fabulous lodge with live music, good service, etc. and they all assume all inclusive means tips. I told them a few times, but no one really did so. It's just shitty. Also, I'm kind of correcting a lot of false assumptions these kids are making and it's going over extremely well. I know sarcasm isn't clear online, but that was intended to be sarcastic. People don't like to be corrected, but I can't idly sit by and let them say that the Kenyans are lazy and need to learn to work for their money or whatever. It's really not that simple for a lot of them. Poverty is a cycle and when there is LITERALLY no opportunity to escape it, you can't say they're lazy or just not trying hard enough. There are no homeless shelters and homeless 35 year olds with no education don't get jobs in a place where there are no jobs. It's a vicious cycle. At any rate, when I say things like that they think I'm an asshole and I totally am an asshole, but not because I correct them. Mostly I'm an asshole because it's fun.
I have a new favorite animal. They look like deer, but are THE SIZE OF A TOY POODLE!!! They weigh ten pounds or so and are fast and look just like a deer. They are so cute. We saw a few on the safari. Their name? A dick-dick. I kid you not. Even in the wilderness, I'm drawn to dick.
Finally of note, we saw about 15 elephants at a watering hole. It was so beautiful. I'll post those pics ASAP. While there I was looking at everything and was just blown away at home lucky I am. There are people all over the world, people all over the US even, who never get on a plane, who never travel, who never see the things I get to see. And I don't just mean in Africa, I mean in life. I've lived in LA & NYC, I've spent time in Europe, the Middle East, and a ton of places in between. I am really really really blessed and lucky and was really blown away by some of the sights. Seeing the squalor that people live in was eye opening, but seeing the beauty here was an equally moving experience.
On to more bitchery.
My dear friend Michael L is another one of those divas I was mentioning. My last post asked for commentary but what does this queen bee do? She sends me an email. It was a sweet one and much appreciated, but damnit woman, unless you want another black eye, you better learn to listen! Now fix me my dinner.
In Michael's defense he is a pretty important guy and can't be bothered with details, but whatever. I'm important and I listen. Or at least nod while pretending to do so.
I think I mentioned this before, but being here is making me really distrustful and I HHHHHAAAATTTEEE that. We stopped at a rest stop on the way back and I wanted a bag of gummy bears. I've become addicted to them here. They cost 68Ksh (Kenyan Shillings) at the Nakumaat (see: Kenyan Wal-Mart). I ask her how much, she eyes me up and down and says 300Ksh. At a rest stop they normally run 75-100. I looked at her, laughed, and left. I just hate having to be on my guard all the time because they just try to stick it to you all the time. Now, this is a gross generalization, but it happens so often that it's just downright infuriating. You all know what a massive bargain shopper I am, so to be gouged like that just really sticks in my craw.
Speaking of sticking things in my craw, I finally had a little privacy at the lodge so that's now 2 times in 10 days.
I'm at Dickson next week and then they want to move me to the Onesmus Boys Centre where glue addicted street kids go live. Glue is heavily abused here. They buy a jar of it and inhale the living shit out of it to get high off the fumes. It's really dangerous and deadly, highly addictive and just plain disturbing. Dickson (they place I work) is the sister orphanage of the boys center and they asked me to go try it out there as they need male influences there. I don't know how much the boys are gonna like flat ironed hair, flared low rise jeans and a light coat of sheer lipgloss, but I'm gonna give it a whirl.
Finally, I'm a raging idiot. I've been trying to figure out how to get my pics from my camera to you. None of the computers have accessible USB ports and my wireless at home is so slow, so I just email one pic at a time over the course of a 20 minute upload when we finally figured out how to get pics to you. Buy a CD, burn from my laptop, use CD at internet cafe. Hopefully MANY MANY MANY pics will be coming soon.
Pictures!
This is Brian. He's 4 and is all over me all the time. All the kids are. They don't usually get men so they're not used to someone who can lift a couple of kids at a time and thus they attack me on a regular basis.
Here's an example.
To give you an idea of how bad it is here, here is a picture of one of the girls' underwear.
This is Moses (pronounced Mosu). They call him Mr. President because he is this serious all the time.
This is Mwongi. I think he's by far the cutest kid, but he's a total asshole. Like, I've never met a child who's a bigger shit. He punches other kids, pees his pants all the time, and looks directly at you while doing bad things. He used to be my favorite, but he's like every other goodlooking guy out there...a total dick.
Finally, this is my building. More pics will come, I promise, for now this is all I have emailed to myself.
Here's an example.
To give you an idea of how bad it is here, here is a picture of one of the girls' underwear.
This is Moses (pronounced Mosu). They call him Mr. President because he is this serious all the time.
This is Mwongi. I think he's by far the cutest kid, but he's a total asshole. Like, I've never met a child who's a bigger shit. He punches other kids, pees his pants all the time, and looks directly at you while doing bad things. He used to be my favorite, but he's like every other goodlooking guy out there...a total dick.
Finally, this is my building. More pics will come, I promise, for now this is all I have emailed to myself.
Friday, June 8, 2007
Pictures!!!
I'm sorry, I only have these few shitty ones right now, will do my best to get them up as soon as possible. The above is the road we take to the orphanage. We have to walk around the "puddles" like the one in the picture. There's also a picture of a neighborhood in downtown Mombasa, about 10 min walk from where I'm staying. My hood is not much different, I'll try to post pics asap. It's just hard getting them from my camera or laptop to the computer at the internet cafe.
Day 8
It's 9:00pm and I'm at the internet cafe while everyone else is at the bar having drinks. Why am I at the internet cafe while everyone else is having drinks? Because that is how committed I am to keeping you, gentle reader, informed on my shenanigans (or lack thereof because of my utter devotion to you).
I need more feedback/comments. They're there for a reason. Utilize.
Today was the last day of my first week. It was really good. I cleaned in the morning and then we took the toddlers and primary kids to a nearby restaurant to get sodas. It was really fun and also really tragic. That was like the fun event of the month. Going to a nearby restaurant to have a bottle of Fanta or a bottle of Coke. We take so much for granted and these kids are ecstatic over a soda. The utter joy that a simple carbonated beverage can bring was really sobering.
Today I saw V (personal info is supposed to be confidential) smile for the first time. He's around 10 and was a street kid, meaning he's an orphan but was either abandoned by his parents or they died and no one knew. He was living on the streets when they picked him up so he's really tough and silent and just has this incredible air of knowledge and experience and most of all pain. The kids all have files, but I'm not going to read them until the beginning of my 3rd week or so. I really want to know the kids and have a feel for who they are before I start reading. Anyway, V smiled while we were taking a break from our division lesson. Drawing up lesson plans is hard!
Idiot was off the chain today. I was kinda day dreaming on the mutato, which granted is my own fault and just asking for trouble, when all of a sudden Idiot said this is our stop. I got off and was like, oh fuck, I didn't even check to see if she was right. I'll give you one guess as to whether she was right or not.
So we ended up walking about a mile. Did I get an apology? Nope. All I got was some line about her being a small town girl. I really wanted to say, "Well then, why don't you stop opening your small town mouth when you don't know your head from your fat, hairy vagina?"...but I didn't. Instead I just walked a mile in silence, which with the right swishy walk and aggressive eye rolling can be even more vicious than a barb about hairy vaginas.
The volunteers and I are going on a safari tomorrow morning. $150 for two days, one night, hotel, all our meals, park entry fees, travel to and from the park, and a guided tour on both days. If I can EVER get a connection that is decent I'll post pics.
Anthony has been popping into my head these past two days. I'm curious, are you reading my blog? You just got a shout-out so you better let me know. I doubt it though.
Last night some guy tried to pick me up. I was looking kind of faggoty I guess in a tanktop and shorts which are really not the norm here, every guy wears a button down tshirt and slacks. Anyway, this guy is like "Hey, como estas?" and not thinking I said "Muy bien, gracias". He said "Remember me, from the club?" and he had THAT LOOK in his eyes. So I said "No...". And he said "Remember?" His eyes were getting so big I thought they were gonna pop out of his head. I said "No, I haven't been to any clubs" then he said "Aren't you Spanish?" and I said "No, Iranian" and he got that scared look in his eyes and was like "Oh, sorry, sorry" and slinked away. So at least I know there's a gay-ish club here. Still, I think I'd sooner wear sign that says "Come rape me by using sand instead of lube" than check out a gay bar in Mombasa.
On my way to the internet cafe some skanky and creepy woman rubbed my head and said "Hey baby". I'm assuming she was a hooker and I likely now have crabs on my head. Hopefully I'll get one of the chimps from tomorrow's safari to pick them all out.
I need more feedback/comments. They're there for a reason. Utilize.
Today was the last day of my first week. It was really good. I cleaned in the morning and then we took the toddlers and primary kids to a nearby restaurant to get sodas. It was really fun and also really tragic. That was like the fun event of the month. Going to a nearby restaurant to have a bottle of Fanta or a bottle of Coke. We take so much for granted and these kids are ecstatic over a soda. The utter joy that a simple carbonated beverage can bring was really sobering.
Today I saw V (personal info is supposed to be confidential) smile for the first time. He's around 10 and was a street kid, meaning he's an orphan but was either abandoned by his parents or they died and no one knew. He was living on the streets when they picked him up so he's really tough and silent and just has this incredible air of knowledge and experience and most of all pain. The kids all have files, but I'm not going to read them until the beginning of my 3rd week or so. I really want to know the kids and have a feel for who they are before I start reading. Anyway, V smiled while we were taking a break from our division lesson. Drawing up lesson plans is hard!
Idiot was off the chain today. I was kinda day dreaming on the mutato, which granted is my own fault and just asking for trouble, when all of a sudden Idiot said this is our stop. I got off and was like, oh fuck, I didn't even check to see if she was right. I'll give you one guess as to whether she was right or not.
So we ended up walking about a mile. Did I get an apology? Nope. All I got was some line about her being a small town girl. I really wanted to say, "Well then, why don't you stop opening your small town mouth when you don't know your head from your fat, hairy vagina?"...but I didn't. Instead I just walked a mile in silence, which with the right swishy walk and aggressive eye rolling can be even more vicious than a barb about hairy vaginas.
The volunteers and I are going on a safari tomorrow morning. $150 for two days, one night, hotel, all our meals, park entry fees, travel to and from the park, and a guided tour on both days. If I can EVER get a connection that is decent I'll post pics.
Anthony has been popping into my head these past two days. I'm curious, are you reading my blog? You just got a shout-out so you better let me know. I doubt it though.
Last night some guy tried to pick me up. I was looking kind of faggoty I guess in a tanktop and shorts which are really not the norm here, every guy wears a button down tshirt and slacks. Anyway, this guy is like "Hey, como estas?" and not thinking I said "Muy bien, gracias". He said "Remember me, from the club?" and he had THAT LOOK in his eyes. So I said "No...". And he said "Remember?" His eyes were getting so big I thought they were gonna pop out of his head. I said "No, I haven't been to any clubs" then he said "Aren't you Spanish?" and I said "No, Iranian" and he got that scared look in his eyes and was like "Oh, sorry, sorry" and slinked away. So at least I know there's a gay-ish club here. Still, I think I'd sooner wear sign that says "Come rape me by using sand instead of lube" than check out a gay bar in Mombasa.
On my way to the internet cafe some skanky and creepy woman rubbed my head and said "Hey baby". I'm assuming she was a hooker and I likely now have crabs on my head. Hopefully I'll get one of the chimps from tomorrow's safari to pick them all out.
Thursday, June 7, 2007
Day 6 and 7
Sorry, but the internet company has been down and none of the internet cafes nor my 'wireless' have been working. So here's the story...of a lovely lady.
Day 6-
I gave birth. After 6 days of Africa and 2 days of travel, I finally went poo and was afraid I was going to jam up the toilet, which would be a nice "Hi, thanks for having me in your home" for my host family. Luckily, that didn't happen. Also on Day 6, I came. This place is so disgusting. All you are is a sweaty, dirty mess so it's not like you're ever feeling horny or sexy. How the HIV rate is so high here is beyond me, because how could you EVER be in the mood for sex? At any rate, I got worried after not coming for 8 days, so I forced myself to do so in the shower. And it was damn near impossible. Kenya is just NOT a sexy nor sexual place. I used every fantasy in my Rolodex and believe me I haven't pushed my brain that hard since 1st semester law school finals. But I did finally get there and interestingly enough, it wasn't that good. It's funny how much of a head game the horizontal tango really is.
Ok, enough about body fluids/boulders and on to the project.
The first full day was a shock to the system. I mopped the orphanage. I handwashed 28 shirts and pants and pairs of underwear. I came up with a lesson plan involving multiplication tables (the kids I teach are in Grade 3). Also, working with Idiot is really taxing. She's just fuckin clueless and you all know me, I am sort of a den mother and feel like this poor Idiot is going to get either lost or run over by a car if I don't take care of her, so I'm stuck with her.
I went home EXHAUSTED but we had a group meeting at the Castle Hotel. Went there, it was fun, just getting everyone together and having a beer.
Day 7-
I have a permanent sinus infection here. I inhale dust and dirt like it's 100% Colombian cocaine. There is little to no pavement and no A/C so windows are always open and dust is always flying.
Work was good. The morning was tough because Mwongi, a 2 year old, was on a hitting spree and just whacking every other little kids. Mosu, a very zen two year old who entertains himself for hours with like a piece of paper, was the victim of several brutal Mwongi attacks. Mwongi is by far the cutest, but a total shit. Manu pissed himself twice, once while I was holding him so my shirt had a lovely urine splotch on it and Emmanuelle John is a snot machine and just has shit coming out of his nose all day long. It was a trying morning, but then my afternoon with the older kids was great. I taught them division and they got it. It was amazingly satisfying to teach something and have the kids understand.
I'm trying to figure out how I can smuggle a few of them back home with me. Thoughts?
Day 6-
I gave birth. After 6 days of Africa and 2 days of travel, I finally went poo and was afraid I was going to jam up the toilet, which would be a nice "Hi, thanks for having me in your home" for my host family. Luckily, that didn't happen. Also on Day 6, I came. This place is so disgusting. All you are is a sweaty, dirty mess so it's not like you're ever feeling horny or sexy. How the HIV rate is so high here is beyond me, because how could you EVER be in the mood for sex? At any rate, I got worried after not coming for 8 days, so I forced myself to do so in the shower. And it was damn near impossible. Kenya is just NOT a sexy nor sexual place. I used every fantasy in my Rolodex and believe me I haven't pushed my brain that hard since 1st semester law school finals. But I did finally get there and interestingly enough, it wasn't that good. It's funny how much of a head game the horizontal tango really is.
Ok, enough about body fluids/boulders and on to the project.
The first full day was a shock to the system. I mopped the orphanage. I handwashed 28 shirts and pants and pairs of underwear. I came up with a lesson plan involving multiplication tables (the kids I teach are in Grade 3). Also, working with Idiot is really taxing. She's just fuckin clueless and you all know me, I am sort of a den mother and feel like this poor Idiot is going to get either lost or run over by a car if I don't take care of her, so I'm stuck with her.
I went home EXHAUSTED but we had a group meeting at the Castle Hotel. Went there, it was fun, just getting everyone together and having a beer.
Day 7-
I have a permanent sinus infection here. I inhale dust and dirt like it's 100% Colombian cocaine. There is little to no pavement and no A/C so windows are always open and dust is always flying.
Work was good. The morning was tough because Mwongi, a 2 year old, was on a hitting spree and just whacking every other little kids. Mosu, a very zen two year old who entertains himself for hours with like a piece of paper, was the victim of several brutal Mwongi attacks. Mwongi is by far the cutest, but a total shit. Manu pissed himself twice, once while I was holding him so my shirt had a lovely urine splotch on it and Emmanuelle John is a snot machine and just has shit coming out of his nose all day long. It was a trying morning, but then my afternoon with the older kids was great. I taught them division and they got it. It was amazingly satisfying to teach something and have the kids understand.
I'm trying to figure out how I can smuggle a few of them back home with me. Thoughts?
Tuesday, June 5, 2007
Day 5
First day alone and of course it was a hot mess.
I was (of course) running late. I ran (running in 90 degrees with 75% humidity- not sexy) down to the other girl's house (Brooke) to grab her and go meet this girl Juliet. Juliet has been at Dickson for 9 weeks and it's her last week. She offered to meet up with us these next few days so we could learn the route. We go to meet her. She never comes. We go search the house, no sign of her. Brooke and I head out, pissed as hell. We go to the mutato stop (see: deathtraps) and wait for the mutato to Port Reitz. None come.
Now, we've been told to only get on mutatos that have the name of where we're going written on them. This is how you know the route the mutato is taking. If it has a different route written on it but the drivers tell you to get on, it means they'll take your money, and then just take you on whatever route is written on their mutato. Lo and behold, a mutato that says Mikadini tells us to get on for Port Reitz. We don't and they get all pissed at us for not trusting them. That's what happens here. The native Kenyans who are affiliated with the program basically tell us to trust no one. We don't. We have are mistrust reconfirmed with 7 people in a row try to hussle us. Then the 8th person is genuinely trying to help, but pissed that we don't trust them, but it's not like once bitten, twice shy here, it's like 7 times bitten, 8th time shy. So anyway, they are pissed we don't get on. Finally, after an hour, a Port Reitz mutato comes and Brooke is NOT pushy at all so we don't get on. In her defense she's 19 and has never been out of the country. Plus, she's an idiot.
It's now been about an hour and 30 minutes or so and a doctor comes to us and says we can ride with her on a different route out of town and then she'll have an ambulance pick us up. SWEET! We do so and when the ambulance comes 11 people climb into the back. I'll show you the picture. It's utterly insane.
We FINALLY get to the orphanage. Juliet is not there. We get a little concerned, but are preoccupied with using dirty mop water to mop and a butter knife to chop onions. Neither are me being sarcastic, the conditions are heart wrenching to say the least and yet the kids are so awesome I pretty much cry every day.
Mongi (2), Masu (2), Manu (2), Vincent (10) and Dorkas (7) are my favorite kids so far. They're so fucking awesome. I really want to bring Mongi home. You have to be straight, married, have money, and live in Kenya to adopt a Kenyan child so I don't think that'll be happening, but if you even saw Mongi for like 2 seconds you'd want him too. He just smiles all the time, loves to be carried/picked up and when he does something naughty, he'll look at you while doing it as if to say "Ya, I'm gonna knock this cup over, I know it's wrong, and there ain't shit you can do about it". I love him.
Juliet rolls up a few hours later. She explains why but I don't really remember. Drunken night out, got a hotel room with some people, couldn't get a mutato, blah blah blah. She's nice and sweet and smart and pretty, but a total flake. Incidentally, she's from Manhattan Beach, CA, so that might explain the flakiness.
Photobucket doesn't work on blogger (I don't think). Suggestions?
I was (of course) running late. I ran (running in 90 degrees with 75% humidity- not sexy) down to the other girl's house (Brooke) to grab her and go meet this girl Juliet. Juliet has been at Dickson for 9 weeks and it's her last week. She offered to meet up with us these next few days so we could learn the route. We go to meet her. She never comes. We go search the house, no sign of her. Brooke and I head out, pissed as hell. We go to the mutato stop (see: deathtraps) and wait for the mutato to Port Reitz. None come.
Now, we've been told to only get on mutatos that have the name of where we're going written on them. This is how you know the route the mutato is taking. If it has a different route written on it but the drivers tell you to get on, it means they'll take your money, and then just take you on whatever route is written on their mutato. Lo and behold, a mutato that says Mikadini tells us to get on for Port Reitz. We don't and they get all pissed at us for not trusting them. That's what happens here. The native Kenyans who are affiliated with the program basically tell us to trust no one. We don't. We have are mistrust reconfirmed with 7 people in a row try to hussle us. Then the 8th person is genuinely trying to help, but pissed that we don't trust them, but it's not like once bitten, twice shy here, it's like 7 times bitten, 8th time shy. So anyway, they are pissed we don't get on. Finally, after an hour, a Port Reitz mutato comes and Brooke is NOT pushy at all so we don't get on. In her defense she's 19 and has never been out of the country. Plus, she's an idiot.
It's now been about an hour and 30 minutes or so and a doctor comes to us and says we can ride with her on a different route out of town and then she'll have an ambulance pick us up. SWEET! We do so and when the ambulance comes 11 people climb into the back. I'll show you the picture. It's utterly insane.
We FINALLY get to the orphanage. Juliet is not there. We get a little concerned, but are preoccupied with using dirty mop water to mop and a butter knife to chop onions. Neither are me being sarcastic, the conditions are heart wrenching to say the least and yet the kids are so awesome I pretty much cry every day.
Mongi (2), Masu (2), Manu (2), Vincent (10) and Dorkas (7) are my favorite kids so far. They're so fucking awesome. I really want to bring Mongi home. You have to be straight, married, have money, and live in Kenya to adopt a Kenyan child so I don't think that'll be happening, but if you even saw Mongi for like 2 seconds you'd want him too. He just smiles all the time, loves to be carried/picked up and when he does something naughty, he'll look at you while doing it as if to say "Ya, I'm gonna knock this cup over, I know it's wrong, and there ain't shit you can do about it". I love him.
Juliet rolls up a few hours later. She explains why but I don't really remember. Drunken night out, got a hotel room with some people, couldn't get a mutato, blah blah blah. She's nice and sweet and smart and pretty, but a total flake. Incidentally, she's from Manhattan Beach, CA, so that might explain the flakiness.
Photobucket doesn't work on blogger (I don't think). Suggestions?
Monday, June 4, 2007
Day 4 Part Mbili (2)
I'm shitting myself. Or at least I would be if I weren't so damn constipated. They warn you about getting diahrrea while you're in Kenya, but I totally WISH that were the case. Evidently it's not just me, but rather a few people on the trip are also in my boat. My overly full and bloated boat. Enough about my bowel movements and on to why I'm shitting myself.
I have wireless at my host family's apartment. It's not theirs and it's slower than the internet cafe, but it exists!! I can do things from home and loaf around in my bed while doing them...like writing this entry. I had to do it immediately in case it goes out or gets password protected or something, but I really can't believe it. It's mindblowing. I know you're thinking either a) who cares, it's just wireless, or b) obviously it's not that poverty riddled/out in the middle of nowhere if they have wireless. To the first group I say: it is a big deal you dumbass, it's wireless in a third world country and to the latter group I say: the vast majority have nothing (many don't have running water) so shut up, it is a big deal because this place is a shitbox. Dumbass.
Today was my first day at the orphanage. There are 28 kids, not 26. They sleep 6-7 to a room. Our lunch consisted of beans. Garbanzo and kidney with bits of onion. They are the happiest, friendliest children I have ever met. We got there around 11:00 (normally we report at 8:00am, but today we were taken to our host family homes and introduced to our orphanages and such, so it was a late start). Anyway, the kids in Grade 1, 2, and 3 go to school from 9:00-12:00 and then come home. The kids in Grade 4-8 go from 9:00-12:00 then come home for lunch then go back at 2:00. So when we got Dickson (the name of the orphanage) the only kids there were about 5 years old or younger. As soon as we walked in they started jumping on me and hanging off of me for piggyback rides and such. They then asked me to flex for them which of course I LOOOOOVED! Even in the 3rd world I get props for my smokin bod. Anyway, we were playing until the older kids came home then we had a little meeting with the people who run the orphanage and then we played spelling and math games until 4:00 at which point we left to come home. It's about 50 minutes each way. I got home, ate with the host family and my roomie who I'm growing quite fond of and am now in bed.
My day will be as follows:
8:00-10:00- clean orphanage and prep lunch
10:00-12:00- play with toddlers (under 5)
12:00-2:00- lunch and play/interact with everyone aged 1-17
2:00-4:00- teach the primary kids (Grade 1, 2, and 3)
I got a sim card for my phone. My number is 0729-502-477. PLEASE be extremely aware of the hours here as I'm sharing my room with someone and living in tiny quarters with a family that has a 2 year old daughter.
NY People: You can call/text between 2:00am - 2:00pm
MN People: You can call/text between 1:00am-1:00pm
CA People: You can call/text between 11:00am-11:00pm
I know you're all self-centered divas (birds of a feather...) and since you're such hot shit and can't be bothered with details like hours you can/can't call, someone will invariably call in the middle of the night. I'm warning you now, for each of you that does so, I'm selling one of the orphans to the diamond mines; so it's on your head if you can't follow a simple rule.
Ok, I have to go so Tom can use the internet. Normally I wouldn't give a flying fuck about a lad from across the pond, but I'm fond of the bloke and thus must say ta.
I have wireless at my host family's apartment. It's not theirs and it's slower than the internet cafe, but it exists!! I can do things from home and loaf around in my bed while doing them...like writing this entry. I had to do it immediately in case it goes out or gets password protected or something, but I really can't believe it. It's mindblowing. I know you're thinking either a) who cares, it's just wireless, or b) obviously it's not that poverty riddled/out in the middle of nowhere if they have wireless. To the first group I say: it is a big deal you dumbass, it's wireless in a third world country and to the latter group I say: the vast majority have nothing (many don't have running water) so shut up, it is a big deal because this place is a shitbox. Dumbass.
Today was my first day at the orphanage. There are 28 kids, not 26. They sleep 6-7 to a room. Our lunch consisted of beans. Garbanzo and kidney with bits of onion. They are the happiest, friendliest children I have ever met. We got there around 11:00 (normally we report at 8:00am, but today we were taken to our host family homes and introduced to our orphanages and such, so it was a late start). Anyway, the kids in Grade 1, 2, and 3 go to school from 9:00-12:00 and then come home. The kids in Grade 4-8 go from 9:00-12:00 then come home for lunch then go back at 2:00. So when we got Dickson (the name of the orphanage) the only kids there were about 5 years old or younger. As soon as we walked in they started jumping on me and hanging off of me for piggyback rides and such. They then asked me to flex for them which of course I LOOOOOVED! Even in the 3rd world I get props for my smokin bod. Anyway, we were playing until the older kids came home then we had a little meeting with the people who run the orphanage and then we played spelling and math games until 4:00 at which point we left to come home. It's about 50 minutes each way. I got home, ate with the host family and my roomie who I'm growing quite fond of and am now in bed.
My day will be as follows:
8:00-10:00- clean orphanage and prep lunch
10:00-12:00- play with toddlers (under 5)
12:00-2:00- lunch and play/interact with everyone aged 1-17
2:00-4:00- teach the primary kids (Grade 1, 2, and 3)
I got a sim card for my phone. My number is 0729-502-477. PLEASE be extremely aware of the hours here as I'm sharing my room with someone and living in tiny quarters with a family that has a 2 year old daughter.
NY People: You can call/text between 2:00am - 2:00pm
MN People: You can call/text between 1:00am-1:00pm
CA People: You can call/text between 11:00am-11:00pm
I know you're all self-centered divas (birds of a feather...) and since you're such hot shit and can't be bothered with details like hours you can/can't call, someone will invariably call in the middle of the night. I'm warning you now, for each of you that does so, I'm selling one of the orphans to the diamond mines; so it's on your head if you can't follow a simple rule.
Ok, I have to go so Tom can use the internet. Normally I wouldn't give a flying fuck about a lad from across the pond, but I'm fond of the bloke and thus must say ta.
Sunday, June 3, 2007
Day 4
So I didn't make it to the internet cafe yesterday, hence the missing post. I'll do my best to post daily, but don't know how feasible that is. Also, I was REALLY REALLY REALLY counting on being able to post pictures via Photobucket but the internet is so ridiculously slow that I have no idea whether or not that will happen. I keep forgetting to bring my USB cord, but I'm definitely going to try later tonite or tomorrow.
Yesterday was orientation. They basically told us about Mombasa and what we're going to do. Today they took us to our homestays and will later be driving us to our orphanages. We're not all at the same one. We have to take the Mutato back and forth. A mutato is a Volkswagon minibus that is driven by gypsies. They are what is considered public transportation here. THere is no way to describe the deathtrap on wheels that they are. People hang out of the buses with the door open while the bus is goign full speed. Ridiculous, but utterly thrilling.
BTW; anything that sounds like a complaint is not, it is an observation. It is really amazing here. The poverty is unlike anything I've seen and the experience is mind blowing...and it's only been two days!
It's like 75% humidity here and 1,000 degrees, so I've never been grosser in my life. It's like as filthy as a 300 person bukake party. Rotting garbage and sweaty people. The giant plus about the weather is the fruit. No, that's not a reference to me, but rather the actual fruit. The bananas (actual bananas) are amazing, the papayas and mangoes melt in your mouth, it's amazing. A fruit party in my mouth.
My accomodations are pretty nice relative to everyone else. Tom and I are in a room at this 3 bedroom apartment with a host family. I'll try to see wassup with the photo situation and show you. When I say nice, I mean horrible by even New York standards, but nice by Kenyan standards.
The people are all super fun and amazing. The Bible banger of the group is named Ali (pronounced Allie), but even she is great. She is the most 'true' Christian that I know in that all she does is preach and talk about love and acceptance and compassion and understanding and not judging. She's really has the greatest heart. At some points she's very "Gone With the Wind". Her accent and her demeanor and such, it's like she's from 1920 with a petticoat and parasol. Her accent is off the hook. But I think that's bitchy gay Nima talking and not really a true assesment. Nonetheless, I really like her. Anyway, she just asked me if I have a girlfriend and I didn't want to lie so I said, "No, I'm gay". And she said "Well, that would explain not having a girlfriend". She then told me she was pro-gay marriage. A girl who's wet for Jesus who is pro-gay marriage and is here to save babies, not convert them. I love it.
I think Tom overheard (we're in the internet cafe), so I'm curious as to whether I'm going to have to have "the talk" with him.
Off to the orphanage because I'm an amazing giver and you're a selfish American asshole eating Cheetos and reading my blog.
xoxo
Yesterday was orientation. They basically told us about Mombasa and what we're going to do. Today they took us to our homestays and will later be driving us to our orphanages. We're not all at the same one. We have to take the Mutato back and forth. A mutato is a Volkswagon minibus that is driven by gypsies. They are what is considered public transportation here. THere is no way to describe the deathtrap on wheels that they are. People hang out of the buses with the door open while the bus is goign full speed. Ridiculous, but utterly thrilling.
BTW; anything that sounds like a complaint is not, it is an observation. It is really amazing here. The poverty is unlike anything I've seen and the experience is mind blowing...and it's only been two days!
It's like 75% humidity here and 1,000 degrees, so I've never been grosser in my life. It's like as filthy as a 300 person bukake party. Rotting garbage and sweaty people. The giant plus about the weather is the fruit. No, that's not a reference to me, but rather the actual fruit. The bananas (actual bananas) are amazing, the papayas and mangoes melt in your mouth, it's amazing. A fruit party in my mouth.
My accomodations are pretty nice relative to everyone else. Tom and I are in a room at this 3 bedroom apartment with a host family. I'll try to see wassup with the photo situation and show you. When I say nice, I mean horrible by even New York standards, but nice by Kenyan standards.
The people are all super fun and amazing. The Bible banger of the group is named Ali (pronounced Allie), but even she is great. She is the most 'true' Christian that I know in that all she does is preach and talk about love and acceptance and compassion and understanding and not judging. She's really has the greatest heart. At some points she's very "Gone With the Wind". Her accent and her demeanor and such, it's like she's from 1920 with a petticoat and parasol. Her accent is off the hook. But I think that's bitchy gay Nima talking and not really a true assesment. Nonetheless, I really like her. Anyway, she just asked me if I have a girlfriend and I didn't want to lie so I said, "No, I'm gay". And she said "Well, that would explain not having a girlfriend". She then told me she was pro-gay marriage. A girl who's wet for Jesus who is pro-gay marriage and is here to save babies, not convert them. I love it.
I think Tom overheard (we're in the internet cafe), so I'm curious as to whether I'm going to have to have "the talk" with him.
Off to the orphanage because I'm an amazing giver and you're a selfish American asshole eating Cheetos and reading my blog.
xoxo
Saturday, June 2, 2007
Day 2
So, I'm in Mombasa. Safe and sound.
It's definitely a shocking experience coming here. Several things of note.
1) Everyone is black.
2) It's hot.
3) It's poor.
Bet you didn't see those coming, huh? I mean, who knew? At any rate, the people are very nice and helpful. EVERYONE speaks English and all the signage is in English, so it's relatively easy to naviage/get help. The beggers are PUSHY and all sorts of people want to carry your bags or show you around or help you out...for a fee. Some asshole grabbed my suitcase in Nairobi, wheeled it to the next terminal (while I was protesting the whole way) and then wanted money. I felt bad, so I gave him a dollar and then he asked for $10. I looked at him with my gayest "Are you insane?" look and carried on.
There are a bunch of people here with the program. We're in a hotel until Monday. Tomorrow (sunday) is orientation and then Monday we're moved to the homestay. The guy I'm rooming with, Tom, is from 1.5 hours outside London and he's actually my roommate in the homestay too. Nice guy, but I can barely understand him. He claims to be speaking English, but with that crazy English accent (and not a London accent, but a rural accent) I can barely make out two words. He seemed kinda pissed when I finally confessed that I don't really understand him.
George is the group hottie (after moi of course). I do use the term hottie loosely, but nonetheless I'd do him in a minute, which yes, I know, isn't sying much, but at least there is someone here who is fuckable. I'll post pics as soon as possible, but given that the connection here is slower than dial up, it may not happen.
Ali (pronounced Allie, like Kate and Allie)is the farm girl. She's from a village in Texas and goes to University of Oaklahoma. Very nice, sweet girl. Surprisingly liberal and open-minded. She threw up from the heat while we were in the bank. That's how ridiculously hot it is.
A few other people in the group, breakdowns shall follow. Havnen't told anyone I'm gay, but I'm sure it's pretty obvious. We'll see how that goes over.
Ok, I'm off to see more of the city. Much love.
It's definitely a shocking experience coming here. Several things of note.
1) Everyone is black.
2) It's hot.
3) It's poor.
Bet you didn't see those coming, huh? I mean, who knew? At any rate, the people are very nice and helpful. EVERYONE speaks English and all the signage is in English, so it's relatively easy to naviage/get help. The beggers are PUSHY and all sorts of people want to carry your bags or show you around or help you out...for a fee. Some asshole grabbed my suitcase in Nairobi, wheeled it to the next terminal (while I was protesting the whole way) and then wanted money. I felt bad, so I gave him a dollar and then he asked for $10. I looked at him with my gayest "Are you insane?" look and carried on.
There are a bunch of people here with the program. We're in a hotel until Monday. Tomorrow (sunday) is orientation and then Monday we're moved to the homestay. The guy I'm rooming with, Tom, is from 1.5 hours outside London and he's actually my roommate in the homestay too. Nice guy, but I can barely understand him. He claims to be speaking English, but with that crazy English accent (and not a London accent, but a rural accent) I can barely make out two words. He seemed kinda pissed when I finally confessed that I don't really understand him.
George is the group hottie (after moi of course). I do use the term hottie loosely, but nonetheless I'd do him in a minute, which yes, I know, isn't sying much, but at least there is someone here who is fuckable. I'll post pics as soon as possible, but given that the connection here is slower than dial up, it may not happen.
Ali (pronounced Allie, like Kate and Allie)is the farm girl. She's from a village in Texas and goes to University of Oaklahoma. Very nice, sweet girl. Surprisingly liberal and open-minded. She threw up from the heat while we were in the bank. That's how ridiculously hot it is.
A few other people in the group, breakdowns shall follow. Havnen't told anyone I'm gay, but I'm sure it's pretty obvious. We'll see how that goes over.
Ok, I'm off to see more of the city. Much love.
Thursday, May 31, 2007
Day 1
Well, I’m only on the first leg of my trip and I already have OOOODLES to tell. I’m sitting at Amsterdam Airport Schiphol (no they don’t sell weed in the terminals) waiting to connect to Nairobi, Kenya. By the way, why is Europe so much better than America? Aren’t we the super power? I mean, even their airport is SMOKIN HOT. Anyway, it’s been about 8 hours of fly time, a 3 hour layover, another 8 hours of fly time, another 3 hour layover, another hour of fly time, and then I’ll be in Mombasa. Flight-wise, the first part went swimmingly. Aisle seat, no one in the middle, hot guy at the window seat. GETTING to the airport was another story.
I left my apartment at 3pm so I could be at JFK by 4:30pm at the latest. I normally take a cab to Penn Station, the Long Island Railroad to Jamaica and then the AirTrain to my gate. Easy as pie and it takes like 40-45 minutes for the trip. I walk out my apartment, walk a block and get a cab. 45 (yes, 45) bumper-to-bumper minutes later, we finally get from 10th & B to 27th & 8th. Normally 45 minutes is how long the entire airport trip takes me, and yet today, on the day that I’m flying internationally to a remote location where there are only 5 flights a week, Manhattan decides to go from being a regular zoo to being a super zoo and thus it takes 45 minutes to get to 27th and 8th. Now you savvy New Yorkers will note that 27th and 8th is not Penn Station. That’s because after we sat through TWO cycles of the stoplight (green, yellow, red. ANOTHER green, yellow red) and didn’t move a single block. I told the cabbie to pull over and that I would walk. Finally, I get to Penn Station. Thank God I planned ahead and allocated a decent amount of time for just such an incident. With a confident but goofy grin I blaze into the station.
Smugness is not pretty and I got my comeuppance a minute later. I stroll into Penn Station thinking I beat the clock when I see the gates are all down and there are cops yelling at people. I ask wassup. There’s a fire at Jamaica. There are no trains going between Penn Station and Jamaica and the cops won’t even let you enter the station. It’s now just before 4 o’clock. This is when I had planned to be at the airport; instead I’m at Penn Station. I’m flipping out. Being the raging moron that I am, first, I have a mental breakdown and then I storm upstairs to jump into a cab. Now, I call myself a moron because evidently news of the fire had eradicated the memory of the fact that it had just taken me about an hour to go 22 blocks and 9 avenues…and I walked for 5 of those blocks.
Anywho, I’m an idiot and jump into a cab (because like every other spoiled homo, when I’m late I just assume a cab is the best way to go) and scream that he take me to JFK. In hindsight, the A or C train would have been much wiser. The cabbie takes me clear across town (basically back to my starting point) and he tries to take the midtown tunnel. The cops have barricaded the entrance and are not allowing people to make a left hand turn into the tunnel. My idiot cab driver tries to squeeze in between the cones. A cop blares his horn and lights, cabbie freaks out and starts to drive AWAY from the tunnel. He’s yelling, I’m yelling, it was definitely a New York moment. He finally takes us around a few blocks and we manage to make a right hand turn into the tunnel.
Bumper-to-bumper the whole way (remember, no trains leaving Manhattan so everyone’s in a cab), I get to the airport at 5:15, flirt with the faggy ticket agent so I don’t get yelled at for being so late (you’re supposed to check in around 2 hours before for international flights) and get to my gate with just enough time to literally slam a vodka cranberry (my last for a while) and get on the plane.
I realize the entire adventure may be anti-climactic for you, gentle reader, because obviously I got on the plane as I am here, but let me tell you, at the time I was having a conniption and a half.
When I got on the plane I tried to smile and make lots of eye contact with the stud next to me, but I’m fairly certain he was straight. I was pretty certain when I got on that he was straight, but I really didn’t care because I’m DESPERATELY trying to join the Mile High Club. I’m halfway there. I jerked off in an airplane bathroom once just because I want to say that I’ve at least cum while on a plane, but that’s not really the same thing. Anyway, Hottie McHotterson in seat 12-I wanted nothing to do with me, so I put on my sleep mask and went to sleep.
When I woke up, I had another “Nima, you’re dumb as a douche bag” moment. I decided to watch a movie on my lil airplane TV. Of all the movies on the list (probably about 25 or so), what did I, brilliant lawyer-to-be choose to watch? Babel. A movie about Americans who get shot while visiting a foreign land. When Cate Blanchett screams in agony as they stitch her up in a hut, all I could think was “Dear God, when I get shot and they sew me up in a hut in Mombasa please let my screams be as pitch perfect as hers…and please let my hair be as shiny and bouncy too…and let me have Brad Pitt holding my hand”.
Movie ends. There’s an enormous THUD on the plane and an announcement comes on asking if there are any doctors on the plane. Someone collapsed while going to the bathroom. A doctor IS on the plane and she tends to the collapsed person until we land.
People who take dumps on airplanes should be shot. There are like 2 bathrooms, they’re tiny, they’re not sound nor smell proof, and you knew you were gonna fly, so why didn’t you shit before you got on the plane? Idiots.
Overhead items really do shift during takeoff and landing. I opened my backpack to get my headphones and a pen fell out and hit the guy sitting in front of me on the head…and then rolled off his head behind him. He didn’t notice and I didn’t bring it to his attention. Luckily it was cheap pen.
KLM hawks a lot of wares on their planes, they bring a duty free cart around and try to sell you stuff. I ALMOST bought the Jean-Paul Gautier Summer Fashion Show Limited Edition miniature perfume bottles (they’re hot, check them out), but pussy-ed out at the last minute and didn’t.
Finally (sorry, longest blog post ever, I know), I’d like to give a shout-out to Courtney and Stephanie for buying me this inflatable travel pillow. I have a couple of real travel pillows that have like cotton and stuff inside of them (and a vibrating one that Heather bought me) and always thought the inflatable neck pillows were for poor people who couldn’t afford the real thing. How wrong I was. The inflatables are SOOOOOO much better. First, they don’t take up space, and second, the support is so much better. I’m a convert, you should become one too. Thanks Courtney and Stephanie.
P.S. As I’m typing some crazy dude is asking me if he can use my computer to check his email and what time lunch is served and asking where I’m going. He also keeps getting up and switching seats (like musical chairs) but all the seats he’s choosing are within one seat of me.
P.P.S. I don’t know how gay guys survive in Europe. Every single male looks more queer here than I would if I were on a gay cruise hosted by Rosie and Nathan Lane that was celebrating Madonna’s birthday during a gay pride weekend. Seriously, it’s ridiculously gay here…and I love it.
P.P.P.S. Everything online, including this page, is in Dutch, so I'm amazing myself in being able to post this.
I left my apartment at 3pm so I could be at JFK by 4:30pm at the latest. I normally take a cab to Penn Station, the Long Island Railroad to Jamaica and then the AirTrain to my gate. Easy as pie and it takes like 40-45 minutes for the trip. I walk out my apartment, walk a block and get a cab. 45 (yes, 45) bumper-to-bumper minutes later, we finally get from 10th & B to 27th & 8th. Normally 45 minutes is how long the entire airport trip takes me, and yet today, on the day that I’m flying internationally to a remote location where there are only 5 flights a week, Manhattan decides to go from being a regular zoo to being a super zoo and thus it takes 45 minutes to get to 27th and 8th. Now you savvy New Yorkers will note that 27th and 8th is not Penn Station. That’s because after we sat through TWO cycles of the stoplight (green, yellow, red. ANOTHER green, yellow red) and didn’t move a single block. I told the cabbie to pull over and that I would walk. Finally, I get to Penn Station. Thank God I planned ahead and allocated a decent amount of time for just such an incident. With a confident but goofy grin I blaze into the station.
Smugness is not pretty and I got my comeuppance a minute later. I stroll into Penn Station thinking I beat the clock when I see the gates are all down and there are cops yelling at people. I ask wassup. There’s a fire at Jamaica. There are no trains going between Penn Station and Jamaica and the cops won’t even let you enter the station. It’s now just before 4 o’clock. This is when I had planned to be at the airport; instead I’m at Penn Station. I’m flipping out. Being the raging moron that I am, first, I have a mental breakdown and then I storm upstairs to jump into a cab. Now, I call myself a moron because evidently news of the fire had eradicated the memory of the fact that it had just taken me about an hour to go 22 blocks and 9 avenues…and I walked for 5 of those blocks.
Anywho, I’m an idiot and jump into a cab (because like every other spoiled homo, when I’m late I just assume a cab is the best way to go) and scream that he take me to JFK. In hindsight, the A or C train would have been much wiser. The cabbie takes me clear across town (basically back to my starting point) and he tries to take the midtown tunnel. The cops have barricaded the entrance and are not allowing people to make a left hand turn into the tunnel. My idiot cab driver tries to squeeze in between the cones. A cop blares his horn and lights, cabbie freaks out and starts to drive AWAY from the tunnel. He’s yelling, I’m yelling, it was definitely a New York moment. He finally takes us around a few blocks and we manage to make a right hand turn into the tunnel.
Bumper-to-bumper the whole way (remember, no trains leaving Manhattan so everyone’s in a cab), I get to the airport at 5:15, flirt with the faggy ticket agent so I don’t get yelled at for being so late (you’re supposed to check in around 2 hours before for international flights) and get to my gate with just enough time to literally slam a vodka cranberry (my last for a while) and get on the plane.
I realize the entire adventure may be anti-climactic for you, gentle reader, because obviously I got on the plane as I am here, but let me tell you, at the time I was having a conniption and a half.
When I got on the plane I tried to smile and make lots of eye contact with the stud next to me, but I’m fairly certain he was straight. I was pretty certain when I got on that he was straight, but I really didn’t care because I’m DESPERATELY trying to join the Mile High Club. I’m halfway there. I jerked off in an airplane bathroom once just because I want to say that I’ve at least cum while on a plane, but that’s not really the same thing. Anyway, Hottie McHotterson in seat 12-I wanted nothing to do with me, so I put on my sleep mask and went to sleep.
When I woke up, I had another “Nima, you’re dumb as a douche bag” moment. I decided to watch a movie on my lil airplane TV. Of all the movies on the list (probably about 25 or so), what did I, brilliant lawyer-to-be choose to watch? Babel. A movie about Americans who get shot while visiting a foreign land. When Cate Blanchett screams in agony as they stitch her up in a hut, all I could think was “Dear God, when I get shot and they sew me up in a hut in Mombasa please let my screams be as pitch perfect as hers…and please let my hair be as shiny and bouncy too…and let me have Brad Pitt holding my hand”.
Movie ends. There’s an enormous THUD on the plane and an announcement comes on asking if there are any doctors on the plane. Someone collapsed while going to the bathroom. A doctor IS on the plane and she tends to the collapsed person until we land.
People who take dumps on airplanes should be shot. There are like 2 bathrooms, they’re tiny, they’re not sound nor smell proof, and you knew you were gonna fly, so why didn’t you shit before you got on the plane? Idiots.
Overhead items really do shift during takeoff and landing. I opened my backpack to get my headphones and a pen fell out and hit the guy sitting in front of me on the head…and then rolled off his head behind him. He didn’t notice and I didn’t bring it to his attention. Luckily it was cheap pen.
KLM hawks a lot of wares on their planes, they bring a duty free cart around and try to sell you stuff. I ALMOST bought the Jean-Paul Gautier Summer Fashion Show Limited Edition miniature perfume bottles (they’re hot, check them out), but pussy-ed out at the last minute and didn’t.
Finally (sorry, longest blog post ever, I know), I’d like to give a shout-out to Courtney and Stephanie for buying me this inflatable travel pillow. I have a couple of real travel pillows that have like cotton and stuff inside of them (and a vibrating one that Heather bought me) and always thought the inflatable neck pillows were for poor people who couldn’t afford the real thing. How wrong I was. The inflatables are SOOOOOO much better. First, they don’t take up space, and second, the support is so much better. I’m a convert, you should become one too. Thanks Courtney and Stephanie.
P.S. As I’m typing some crazy dude is asking me if he can use my computer to check his email and what time lunch is served and asking where I’m going. He also keeps getting up and switching seats (like musical chairs) but all the seats he’s choosing are within one seat of me.
P.P.S. I don’t know how gay guys survive in Europe. Every single male looks more queer here than I would if I were on a gay cruise hosted by Rosie and Nathan Lane that was celebrating Madonna’s birthday during a gay pride weekend. Seriously, it’s ridiculously gay here…and I love it.
P.P.P.S. Everything online, including this page, is in Dutch, so I'm amazing myself in being able to post this.
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
Day (-)8
Thank you everyone who helped make this dream of mine come true. The individual thanks will spew forth shortly (you all know I like to spew). Thanks to the outpour of generosity and massive number of tricks I turned, I have reached just over the $4,000 goal that was needed to make this trip possible. I'm still getting money from all you wonderful, sexy, smart, hard working, thin and gorgeous people. Any donations now will go directly towards supplies for the kids- bedding, school supplies, clothing and toys. I'm a big fan of full disclosure so actual numbers will follow shortly, I just want to wait until I've received all the money I'm going to receive.
I received my assignment last week. I'll be at the Dickson Children's Centre in Mombasa, Kenya. It is a home for 14 girls and 12 boys aged 1-12 with the hopes of expanding to a home for 200 children. Our duties will be cooking food, cleaning the centre, doing laundry, playing with the kids, and teaching them English. Most of the kiddies have been affected by HIV/AIDS with a smaller number simply being destitute children.
4 of us volunteers will be staying with the Kiambi family: a husband, wife, little girl, and their housekeeper. Our very own African Brady Bunch minus Marcia, Jan, Greg, Peter, and Bobby. Hopefully the housekeeper won't mind if I call her Alice.
Still in La-La Land, so I better go so that I can go tanning, get waxed, go to pilates and have a smoothie. Otherwise I won't be able to complain about my strenuous day tonite over cocktails.
Back in NYC on Saturday, then off to Kenya on Thursday.
I received my assignment last week. I'll be at the Dickson Children's Centre in Mombasa, Kenya. It is a home for 14 girls and 12 boys aged 1-12 with the hopes of expanding to a home for 200 children. Our duties will be cooking food, cleaning the centre, doing laundry, playing with the kids, and teaching them English. Most of the kiddies have been affected by HIV/AIDS with a smaller number simply being destitute children.
4 of us volunteers will be staying with the Kiambi family: a husband, wife, little girl, and their housekeeper. Our very own African Brady Bunch minus Marcia, Jan, Greg, Peter, and Bobby. Hopefully the housekeeper won't mind if I call her Alice.
Still in La-La Land, so I better go so that I can go tanning, get waxed, go to pilates and have a smoothie. Otherwise I won't be able to complain about my strenuous day tonite over cocktails.
Back in NYC on Saturday, then off to Kenya on Thursday.
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