monkey park

one of the coolest places i visited while in africa, was on my last day in nairobi. last year, some people made daniel aware of a park in nairobi that has monkeys living EVERYWHERE in it's trees.

the day was filled with alot of places, including a visit to a TI project in the slums, but it started off great with a man in front of our hotel yelling at daniel from a bus, "hey... you have three! why can't you give me one?!" in reference to the three of us girls trailing behind him. seriously?! it was 7am... i was ready to punch him MYSELF. daniel said something to him in swahili that sounded really fiesty, and all of us girls giggled as the man shut up really fast, and we continued on our mission to find coffee.

later that day we bought two bags of peanuts at a local store, and then caught a matatu to the park.



walking into the park, there were quite a few people around us. i was walking on one side of the path, and daniel and michele and lauren were on the other side. all of a sudden daniel said calmly but firmly, "hope... walk towards me" and i could tell he was concerned about something.

i walked towards him and the girls.

then he said to all three of us, "on the count of three, we're all going to stop and stare at that bush right there," and all of us girls smiled at each other like we were playing a gradeschool game as he counted to three and we all stopped and looked down at a bush. after a few seconds daniel gave us the "okay," and we started walking again. he pointed out two young guys who were in front of us, but had been directly behind me. they looked like idiots, running and jumping in front of us, and smacking each other now and then while they skipped down the path. it was NOT common behavior for kenyans. we think they were high, and their proximity to me was too close for daniel's comfort, i guess.

moral of the story? when daniel says it's time to stop and smell the roses... you stop and smell the roses.

we spotted a monkey on the ground in the middle of a grove of trees, and walked over. daniel brought out the first bag of peanuts, and opened it. then he had a target on his forehead. monkeys dropped from the trees, and one even tried to grab the bag out of his hand.



luckily, he escaped without injury (that time), and put the bag of peanuts securely in his pocket. we were quite amused to see momma monkeys with their babies clinging to the underside of their stomachs...



... and even more amused to see that a young kenyan pick-pocket had followed us into the grove of trees. we were onto him, so he didnt try anything, but he hovered for awhile.

daniel gave us peanuts, and the monkeys jumped up to our shoulders for their treat which would soon follow. it was a bit nerve-wracking at first, but eventually i got used to having them jump and climb all over me. we had soooo much fun.

michele was a bit enthralled...


i was a bit scared that my monkey would bite me...


daniel had done this before...

and lauren looked like she belonged in the circus...


as we tired of the first group of monkeys (because they started fighting with each other over the peanuts), we moved on to a different area of the park where i found a different kind of monkeys... some of the local children. they were so cute swinging on the branches of the trees, and playing games.



we found another group of monkeys (the primate kind), and encountered a group of kenyan people walking by. one man blatently held a camera phone in my face and snapped a picture. daniel was torked, but the man with the camera phone walked away pretty fast...as he walked, he snapped another picture... this time of michele.

serves us right, i guess. that was the first time i had a camera in my face, but i'd been snapping pictures of the kenyan people my whole month in africa... so i got a taste of my own medicine, i guess. whatever.

this new group of monkeys was super fun, although a bit scary at first. one of them had a bleeding foot which made me want to vomit. there was a huge monkey that the bleeding one was terrified of, which made me think that the big one was the culprit for the wound. i threw peanuts at the hurt one because i felt sorry for it, but when it jumped on me, i FREAKED. i draw the line at monkey blood stains on my skirt... that is unacceptable.





i was a little freaked out... can you tell? good lord. michele just laughed... she was not sympathetic towards my plight until the bleeding monkey jumped on HER. serves her right!

we got a couple monkeys to literally jump like a relay race from one shoulder to the next one...



then daniel and lauren decided to try something a bit different... a longer jump. it was awesome.



then michele got ahold of the camera as one of the monkeys got fiesty with me... i apologize for your seasickness, as michele got pretty squirrely with the videotaping part... but i think it's funny. :)



now, my friends, we come to the tragic part of the story... excuse me as i hold back the tears... of LAUGHTER.

daniel was getting some more peanuts out of his first bag (of which he had unwisely taken from the security of his pocket), and a humongous monkey lunged at his hand. the monkey latched onto the bag (and daniel's finger) with his teeth, and ripped. the bag tore, but did not come loose from his grip. dan was so shocked by the attack, that he didn't hide the bag, but rather said "hey, i think it just bit me!" as he looked at his finger that was bleeding.



the monkey saw his chance, and lunged again at the bag of peanuts... success. dan was busy staring at his finger and the monkey grabbed the bag and ran off. after pretty much scalding daniel's finger with some germ-x from michele's purse we decided it didn't warrant an emergency, but daniel's excitement about the monkey park waned as he thought of the diseases he could've just contracted. we were more amused than worried... but that's because it didnt look very bad... but we can't really talk, cuz WE werent the ones with the monkey bite.

daniel is still alive (as far as i know), but maybe we could've been a bit more sensitive...

anyways, daniel opened the last bag of peanuts, but by then the monkeys had gotten pretty aggressive, so we did what anyone would've done...

we called over some kids playing at the park, and made sure the monkeys saw the transfer of peanuts from daniel's hand to theirs.



sacrificing kenyan children to packs of hungry animals... it's what we do.

McHulk in nairobi

we ended our first day in nairobi with dinner and a movie.

by the time our movie was over, it was dark. the huge fire we'd witnessed earlier in the day had been put out, and the police -for the most part- had broken up the huge mob that had been watching the process.

when we got out of our movie, we started walking the few blocks back to our hotel... until we were stopped by the police who had roped off a couple blocks of space around the building that had been burned. those blocks just happened to be the normal -and safer- route home to our hotel. the police officer -with an extremely large gun- directed us down another street, and daniel looked over his shoulder at lauren and i and michele, and said "we're taking the long way".

what would've been a five minute walk turned into one that i couldve sworn was an hour (really, it was like 15 minutes).

we were in nairobi. at night. walking through a scary part of town.

two white girls... one supermodel... and one white guy. we stand out in a crowd, but we stood out even more, as our white skin practically seemed to glow in the dark as we walked down the street.

i was a bit scared... not gonna lie... and when i get scared, i get real quiet and tense... and that's what happened.

i dont know what the other girls were thinking, but when i saw the dark streets ahead and realized we'd be walking them, every sense hightened. every shadow looked darker, and i imagined that every corner i couldn't see past contained evil men who were going to attack us the second i looked away. after a minute of thinking this way, i realized had to control my thoughts or i would lose it. so i decided to do what we all do when we dont know what's going on...

look to daniel.



okay, men... all men...

you're impressive. you men in your own way are seriously some of the most impressive creatures that God ever did create.

can i get an "amen!" ladies?

although we women may laugh and poke fun at your manly ways sometimes, there are those times when our breath just catches because you excel at being... well... men. really, it's one of the only reasons why we sit and watch y'all play sports like football.

taking whatever each other can dish out, chasing after each other like maniacs who stole each others' women, and then slamming each other to the ground (all while in tights) just to hold a piece of sewn together pig skin which is apparently the object of your affection... and all of this just FOR FUN.

man. guys, we females might not understand your motive for such things, but we can appreciate how impressive you are when you get your heart pounding, pulse racing, "i feel invincible right now, and i'd like the chance to prove it" feeling...

when that drug-like adrenaline whispers in your ear, "i've got your back if this gets ugly", and you sincerely wish -and secretly dread- for someone to challenge your committment to protect what is yours. when our safety is in question, we women encourage your utilization of all the adrenaline you've got.

i'd imagine it's kinda like being infused with the hulk's magic potion.

for lauren, michele and i... we were glad McHulk was leading us around nairobi that night.

completely silent, listening to every footstep, and snapping our heads around whenever any noise got close to us, we followed daniel's lead.

he had one hand in his pocket as we walked by the edge of a park with a huge wall of bushes on our left side, and a dark street with random people sleeping in bus station alcoves, on our right.

then he casually took his hand out of his pocket and kept walking.

something was different though.

my eyes fell on the cupped hand at his side. he was wearing long sleeves, so i could barely see it, but he was cupping what looked like the end of a piece of metal in his hand... and half of it disappeared up his sleeve. i realized i'd seen it at the house one time.

he has this weapon he carries around when traveling. it looks like a five inch metal cylinder, but it drops down and expands to a good 16 inches or so in like a second if you need to defend yourself. you just hold it in your hand, and keep a finger on the end, and if you move your finger aside, it becomes a very threatening metal baton that could easily kill someone.

daniel tensed as someone moved in the bus alcove, and we girls shifted the tiniest bit closer to him and towards the bushes as we walked by a man who was moving in his temporary home on the bus stop floor. daniel developed eyes in the back of his head i think, as we kept walking.

daniel kept his hand out of his pocket and at the ready as we walked the last (and darkest) block to our hotel, and then we were safe. i walked into the hotel lobby and felt my whole body relax. it actually hurt when my muscles eased... i was THAT tense.

i have never in my life been as appreciative of a confident man who knows how to handle himself, as i was that night.

when we girls got back to our room, the door shut and we and let out a collective "HOLY CRAP!" in regard to our intense bodyguard and his secret baton weapon.

guys? bring on the hulk...

we women approve.

fire in nairobi

we spent a couple days in nairobi before leaving for our flight to london. the first thing we experienced in nairobi was actually completely unplanned and totally random for us all.

a fire.

yeah, you heard me right... a fire. a huge grocery store caught on fire when the power to the store went out (which frequently happens here), and then the generator started up and exploded i guess. we had no idea that had happened... all we knew was there was a huge amount of smoke in the air the afternoon we arrived.

of course daniel had to go check it out... and we trust his judgement, so we were game for an adventure. he'd never knowingly take us into a dangerous situation. he knows this culture so well... he can figure out what's going on with a group of people in one glance... he's like 007 or something. pretty schnazzy.

we walked a few blocks and hit the outskirts of the crowd that had gathered to watch. i think its misleading to call it a crowd, though...

it was more like a mob.

of thousands of people.

like... every street filled with spectators.

nowhere was unacceptable to stand and watch what was happening... and in fact, the higher you got, the better. people were hanging off of each other on the barriers in the middle of the street... everyone was watching as the store burned, and it was like their version of a reality show... only this was as real as it gets.

one of kenya's prize cities was in jeopardy.

people cheered when it looked like the fire truck that was trying to get control of the fire looked like it was succeeding, and then hushed as the flames again lept out of control.

we were on the outskirts, so we walked to the safety of the somewhat empty sidewalks (since everyone was in the streets and on the road dividers getting as close as they could), and tried to see what was going on.

everything was fine... for about five minutes.

then the police showed up.

apparently it's not okay to stand on the barriers in the middle of the road, so when they charged into the crowd with their batons cracking on people's shoulders and heads, the hundreds of people on the barriers all jumped or fell into the crowd, and that in turn pushed the crowd towards us.

in a matter of seconds it was like a much too crowded concert. we put one hand on our bags incase of pickpockets (which dan had already warned us about), and looked to him for direction.

he started shoving.

when daniel starts shoving people, you seriously act like Jesus just gave you a command, and you start shoving too. when chaos happens, you look to daniel. i grabbed little lauren's hand, and kept my eyes on daniel's head since i could see over the mob of kenyans. i literally dragged lauren forward at some points i think. it was insane and SO cool.

i didnt feel in danger at all... i knew i had my hand on my bag, and i knew that dan was looking back every few seconds to make sure we were all following him. it seriously was awesome. if i ever lost sight of dan, i knew that because i was a tall white girl, he could see me and know that lauren was in tow as well, so it was great to be a tall white girl and very literally "stand out" in the crowd.

pushing... yelling... screaming... watching pickpockets steal from pockets right in front of me... fire... policemen with batons... kenyans who just wanted to be chased by police because they're bored with life...

it was awesome.

we got out of the mob and daniel stopped and turned around. once we assured him we were all okay, all four of us started gushing about how cool it was that we'd just experienced that.

once in a lifetime, people... once in a lifetime.

that night we ate dinner at a restaurant a block away from the fire that they had just put out, and the news was nothing but the fire. at one point, they showed a clip of when the fire truck first pulled up and the street was blocked by cars. the kenyan men literally were like bricks of muscle... four guys lifted a car multiple times, each time moving it further out of the way for the fire truck to go by.

within a minute, the entire street was filled with adrenaline-filled men lifting and dropping cars out of the way. there was MORE than enough room for the truck to get by at that point. daniel was sad he wasnt a part of the muscle men lifting the cars.

lauren and i and michele just started at the screen. it was THAT impressive. men + massive amounts of adrenaline feeding off of an intense circumstance? oh please... dont even get me started. they can do anything, i'm sure of it.

then we heard a huge commotion. the security guard at the front of our restaurant reacted quickly, pulling a huge iron gate down from the door of the restaurant just as hundreds of kenyans started dashing past us.

the police were breaking up the mob of onlookers.

they would break up the mob, and then we'd all watch out the windows from our seats in the gated restaurant as the bored young kenyan guys would go looking for trouble a minute after the police had chased them with batons, and they'd go running back to where the fire was only to be chased back again.

we laughed real hard when the police got on horses and the cavalry chased them past our restaurant.

they still went back for more... and then they deserved what they got.

tear gas.

seriously, we had no idea it'd been sprayed until i started plugging my nose because it burned. everyone was looking at me weird as i swore that something was wrong... and then it hit michele too... and lauren... and the whole restaurant.

we were all plugging out noses and closing our eyes. it wasnt really bad... just enough residue from outside where they'd sprayed it, that it was uncomfortable.

fire... mobs... police... cavalry... tear gas.

how much adventure can you have in one day?

never enough, that's for sure.

the shirt off his back

so... daniel's a good lookin guy.

true story... and i was amazed that he has such good style when he lives - and shops - in africa for all his clothes. he does it for maybe an eighth of what we'd pay in the states for such a fabulous sense of style, and is so very proud of how good he is at bartering for everything he eventually owns.

i was intrigued when i heard of the clothes markets in kitale and what they were like, so i decided to check out some of these markets and see if i could find anymore cool items for his wardrobe.

sometimes it's good to have a girl's sense of style and what looks hott or not on a guy, and i thought he'd appreciate the thought. he totally did.

lauren took me all over town to markets and second hand clothing stands where i picked out some fricking cool stuff for daniel. i got a banana republic dress shirt for him that looks brand new, and is DEEP DEEP red for 150 shillings... like $1.50... no lie. and mind you, every single thing i bought, i haggled over the price for.

i skoffed... i coughed... i hissed... i shook my fist at a couple guys... even tossed shirts back at one guy who was particularly obnoxious and pushy, and all cuz i knew i could be pushier...

and all to hear the words i was waiting for: "eh...eh. price is not fixed. make offer."

oh man... it was my favorite day of shopping EVER. seriously, lauren and i felt so cool that whole afternoon.

then... then there was this one shirt.

THE shirt.

daniel needed to own that shirt... he just didnt know it yet.

i just had to get it for him.

i'm talking UBER cool shirt. patches on the arms that listed the cali beaches, and a faded yellow color to it with what looks like a stone washed rainbow across the front. it had layered brown on the undersize of the short sleeves, neck, and hem of the shirt, and i was obsessed with it. there was just one problem.

it was on a kenyan.

i told lauren "i want that shirt for dan" and in the next breath i said to the guy "my husband would look good in your shirt. will you sell it to me?"

it took everything i had to not lose my cool right there. i was seriously bartering with a man for the SHIRT OFF HIS BACK. what the crap was i doing? i wanted to laugh, but at the same time it was such a challenge! i just had to see if i could get him to sell it to me.

it was so exciting.

the guy looked at me... and then at the shop owner... and then when he smiled i knew he would be putty in my hands. i asked what size it was, and he had no idea... i was pretty sure it was dan's size, but i wanted to be sure.

so lauren checked.

when she stood on her tiptoes to read the tag on the back of the 5`11 kenyan's shirt, three other guys walked over to the stand we were at. it was dan's perfect size, and out little stand at the market was becoming a bit crowded with men who all wanted THEIR shirt tags read by the little blond texan... at least that's what i think.

he gave me a RIDICULOUS price, but i'd expected that much. after i haggled him for about 400 shillings less than what he originally told me, he walked to the back of the stand, and took the shirt off his back for me to give to my "husband".

the guy even agreed to take a picture with me. i'll post it soon.

anyways.. lauren and i walked away and mumbled in awe at what i'd just done for a half a block before it hit me and i stopped walking just to say "i just bought the shirt off a kenyan man's back. holy crap! how cool am i?!"

in the states, this would never happen... it'd actually be quite rude... but in kenya i made a young man's YEAR by giving him bragging rights that a mzungu bought his shirt off his back, and i had the funnest, boldest experience of interacting with kenya's male population that i've had YET.

i'm impressive, oh yes i am.

white women can braid

a few days ago we went to eldoret to buy more crafts from robert, the owner of a craft store that gets their stuff from all over kenya. he has a wide variety of things to choose from that we can buy in large quantities.

it was a productive shopping day filled with buying both for TI, and also for friends and family back home that we wanted to get gifts for.

while in eldoret, lauren and ina took michele and i to the salon to get our toe nails painted. here, the nail and hair salons are called saloons.

we four girls went to the saloon (oh man, it never gets old typing that extra O in there) to get our nails painted. walking through eldoret was fun... the typical clicking tongues, and near accidents as people stopped to stare, and/or ran into the person in front of them on the street, since they'd stopped to stare at us too. haha.

we walked down an alley or two, and i took up residence on a rickety bench, and copied lauren's example. i put my foot up on the edge of the bench next to mine, and presented my filthy dusty feet to the man with the polish in his hand.

by the time he was done with my toe nails, it looked like they'd been AIRBRUSHED... he is THAT good with his tiny little design brush. i got a flower with detailed petals on each nail... it was amazing. he was amazing.

the wooden bench was in a 4 foot wide hallway where other women were sitting on rickety benches as well, waiting for their appointment at one of the 10 hair saloons that lined that same hallway.

even with the 20 or more women watching, i was just astounded by this man with the magical talent at painting nails. there was no massage... no oil or lotion or fixing of the crappy foot callouses that we women hate to admit that we EVER get, because they are just OH so feminine, eh? nope... none of that. just the painting of nails... and i felt like a queen when he was done.

in kenya, it's the little stuff that makes you feel girly... especially if you're dripping sweat and feel filthy.

as i paid the magical man 50 shillings (.75 cents) for his great job, he moved on to ina, and i sat there letting my nails dry.

a lady in the hair saloon across from me caught my eye, and told me she wanted to braid my hair. the hallway went quiet as the 20 women sitting on their benches waited for my answer... little did i know how i'd throw them for a loop when i replied with "oh... no thank you, i can braid my own hair."

holy mother... you wouldve thought i just said i could do brain surgery right then and there in that little hallway. the women started murmering, and the nail guy stopped painting inas nails, and the saloon lady said "your own? you can braid your own? not good though, eh?"

i must admit, i got a little sassy on the inside and thought of a comeback, but instead just decided to demonstrate.

right there on my rickety bench with my wet toe nails that were drying, i started french braiding my long, straight, highlighted hair. you know when you see multiple people stick their heads out on the side of a door, but you can only see one body? thats what it looked like from my seat.... just kenyan women striving to see the white girl braid her hair from their wooden benches lining the hallway.

some even stood to get a better look.

when i was halfway done, the saloon ladies from each shop had stopped what they were doing, to watch me. seriously, their customers had their hair sticking straight up with ungodly crap that looked like a mix of baby powder and vaseline, in it... and their hairdressers were holding hair dryers that were still on, and just pointing them at the wall. some came into the hall or stuck their heads out to see what i was doing.

when i was done, the lady who had offered to braid my hair came over to inspect my job and she just clicked and murmured in swahili to the other ladies before asking what my "smart" braid was called...

i told her it was called a french braid, and i couldve sworn as i walked out of the hallway with the girls a few minutes later, that the same saloon lady was trying out her new kind of braid. i wonder if her customer had requested it, or if she just decided that she would try to imitate me...

that's the "smart french braid" that the white girl taught her.

who knew i would be a trend setter in africa?

"she doesn't satisfy me"

by the title of this blog, you can probably guess that i had another interesting interaction with a kenyan man.

yep... in the market.

the kenyan market is basically like a flea market in the states. if you've ever been to one, you know its pretty chaotic. everyone shouting and trying to get your attention and have you buy their goods. at the market, we go to one lady... mary. she owns a huge part of the market, and she has many women working for her to sell different fruits, grains and vegetables.

mary loves me... really, all the market ladies do. they want me to marry their sons and have huge kenyan babies. although im sure they all love having lazy, obnoxious husbands with wandering eyes, i think i'll pass... thanks. sounds like a good deal, eh? yeah.

lauren and i love sitting there picking out our goods while riling them all up by telling them that most men in america know how to cook and clean and do laundry. they just say "really? no... no. really?"

oh... and tell them that the majority of fathers in america (we would LIKE to believe) take an active role in their childrens' lives, and they think that's just impossible. so with all these conversations, you can get a better idea why i balk at the idea of ever flirting with - let alone MARRYING - a kenyan man. i can count on one hand the decent ones i've met while i've been here.

in the market, men usually walk through with huge boxes and sacks on their backs, so it's common to say a greeting (or four) while we sit there and chat with the ladies. this day was no different... except for one thing.

a tall african man - we'll call him Guy 1 - was standing right across from me, leaning against the nearest fruit stand (mountain of fruit and sacks about 3 feet taller than he was). for the first five minutes, he didnt move. he just stared at me. i'm used to it, but he was obnoxious about it which is NOT common... usually the men here are passive lookers and just shout something as i walk or drive by. they never just blatently keep staring when they know i'm aware of it (that i can see).

so Guy 1 gets up while i'm talking with rosemary, my favorite market lady, and tries to make conversation with me. do you know what my immediate thought was?

"entertain him, hope... you need a good blog".

so i did.

he asked me where i was from, why i was here, and a bunch of other stupid stuff before another guy - Guy 2 - walked up and joined our conversation. really, Guy 2 just walked up and greeted me... but Guy 1 gave him a death look and walked back to his leaning position against the fruit stand.

i answered Guy 2's greeting, and glanced at Guy 1 who was still watching the exchange intently. i said loud enough for all the market ladies to hear, "you are jealous that he is talking to me, yes?!" and the women ERUPTED in laughter as Guy 1 loudly denied my accusation.

Guy 1 came over to me to try and make my voice lower i think... but nice try. i'm a hepner... being loud is what i do... and when i'm being fiesty with an obnoxious man? oh please. you all probably heard me in america.

Guy 1 and Guy 2 had a grumbling exchange in swahili that i couldnt understand (and that the market ladies would not translate for me) before Guy 2 relinquished his position in front of me. Guy 1 had apparently made his intentions known. i had a feeling i knew what they were grumbling about, and i kinda hoped they'd throw down right there in the market.

intriguing... i think i found the one thing kenyan men are not passive with each other about - who gets the american supermodel.

i like stirring the pot, and especially when i am not going to be around a group of people for very long... so i said loudly, "you want to marry me, don't you?" and Guy 1 looked shellshocked before quickly stuttering "yes... yes!".

i asked him if he was married, and he pulled out his left hand that he'd been hiding in his pocket. "yes... but i will divorce her for you" he answered a bit quieter, looking around to see who was watching.

everyone was. have i mentioned that i SO love being the center of attention?! yup. true story.

"divorce her?" i said. "well, i would not be okay with that... she would be so sad. you should only have one wife anyways. it's not good for a man to marry more than one wife... plus, one woman is enough for one man to handle anyways!" oh man... the market ladies watched in quiet amazement that i was talking to a man like this, but i knew i was their hero since they were beaming from ear to ear.

apparently, even kenyan women get a bit jealous and insecure when their man has his eyes on another girl. i dont think kenyan women were consulted when their men decided they were too horny for just one wife.

tar and feather... that's all i got to say.

so the beaming market ladies were silently watching for Guy 1 to respond to me... and in my wildest dreams, i couldn't have planned what he said next.

he bent down and whispered a bit too loudly in my ear "no, no... my wife... she does not satisfy me anymore."

oh it took all i had in my not to just slam his arrogant, fat head into the tomato rack right then and there. instead, i quickly decided to use my confident personality and too white skin to my advantage.

i guffawed loudly (good word, eh?) and said "oooooh! i don't think you should be telling me such things!! maybe i will tell all the market ladies what you whisper in my ear... i'm sure they would like to hear what you think of your wife, no?!" oh man... he jumped back so fast. he covered his face with his hands as Guy 2 looked on in glee that he would be the one to marry me now, and Guy 1 said in terror, "no, no, no... you dont do that!"

too late. rosemary had overheard his loud whisper. in a matter of seconds, she'd shouted in swahili to the market women what Guy 1 had told me, and they went into an uproar. there was laughter and mocking and clicking tongues like he was a wayward child... it was so great.

have i told you how much i love rosemary? oh she is my FAVORITE.

Guy 1 looked like he'd been spanked, and sulkingly took up his leaning post again. Guy 2 walked over to me, and knowing that i already had my good story for my blog, i promptly let him know i would never marry a kenyan because they do not treat their women well. he glanced at Guy 1, and i think he sized up how well he'd be able to handle the supermodel's quick wit. he decided it wasn't worth it.

he moved on to lauren.

hahahahahaha. she told him she had a husband (daniel... he's our fake husband in case of obnoxious men), and that he could call daniel if he wanted to talk to her. Guy 2 walked away...

... only to come back with his phone. ugh. lauren gave him a fake number and sent him on his way.

rosemary and all the market women told me i was a good talker, and i informed them that i was just fiesty. after i explained the meaning of the new english word, they agreed... i am very fiesty. then they told me kenyan women are fiesty, too... but with their children, not their husbands.

oh. my. gosh. too much.

we rented a taxi (just a small car with a driver) to take us and our groceries home, and Guy 1 and Guy 2 followed lauren and i at a distance until we got in our car. i think they thought i'd change my mind and come running back to pick one of them because they were just SUCH a catch for any white girl.

suckas.

road crews

eldoret is a town that's about a 45 minute ride from where i'm staying... and on the worst roads you've ever seen.

seriously, they will be in my nightmares someday - i know it! the roads we travel on are filled with holes at least a foot wide, and sometimes 3-6 inches deep. they are so fun to drive on... SO fun.

but get this... according to the kenyan people, if you check with their government that stretch of horrid road is "new".

the government put a ridiculous amount of money aside to pave the road between kitale and eldoret, and their books say it is "new", huh? not so much... only 20 miles of road were paved and the rest still remain untouched. THAT is how corrupt the government here is. its ridiculous.

once we get on the road, we see an interesting sight. since certain corrupt people have pilfered the money for the road to be fixed, the kenyan people still have to do something about being able to travel them... so the kenyan kids get a bit creative.

yep... you heard me. the teenagers. young boys transport dirt from holes on the side of the road and fill up the potholes in the road. then they put sticks with pieces of clothing on the holes (kinda like a flag) to show that they just worked to fill them up.

when you drive by these boys, they jump up from where they're sitting on the side of the road and rush as close as they can get to the vehicles driving by, and they shout and point to the holes so the drivers of the vehicles will pay them money for filling them.

sometimes they receive a few shillings from passing vehicles, but not much. we get so close to hitting them when we're driving by, that sometimes i have to close my eyes and hope we dont run them over.

the interesting thing is that those kenyan boys probably make up a good portion of the men here that actually arent lazy and take some initiative.

kenyan dental floss

now, to understand the jist of this story, i need to help you understand a bit about my friend daniel's personality... and although an intimidating task, i think i'm up to it.

umm... how do i explain him? okay, so sometimes he... nope. crap.

wait. okay... he likes "joking" with people. really, all the guys in his family do... they like to see how gullible the average person is. if you ask a question, they'll give you a bogus but totally believable answer, and wait to see how long it'll take you to question it's validity. they think this kind of psychological manipulation is oooooh so funny.

whatever... they're lipparellis. enough said.

since i got here, i've been asking questions about kenyan culture ALL THE TIME, and i think sometimes dan gets tired of explaining. when that happens, i can usually recognize the gleam in his eyes as he gives me an answer that totally makes sense, but really is completely untrue... just the shock factor that he likes going for. usually within a few seconds i come to find out he's just messing with me, but he thinks it is hysterical. luckily, i'm not the only one he does it to.

we all have suffered through his "jokes"... but payback is a bummer. nah... really though, there are four girls here, and you gotta feel for the one american guy amongst so much estrogen.

not even kidding... with the four of us girls combined, we could probably float a hot air balloon just by blowing into it sometimes.

someone give the man a medal for putting up with us.

anyways... back to the lunch we were having. we walked into the "restaurant" and grabbed a table. i noted on the way to our table that the fly-covered fruit salad was not looking so hot today. someone had forgotten to put the lid back on the bowl.

appetizing.

the popular foods here are so weird, but some of it is palatable for the american taste buds, so i dont mind. instead of ugali or sukamawiki (no idea how to spell that) or some kind of weak soup that the kenyans call "curry", i usually get chicken and chips.

basically, chicken and chips can be whittled down to the following: you know american KFC chicken? yeah... its not anything like that. you get a piece of what must've been a very malnourished chicken's LEG (and that makes you wonder if it was hit and flattened by a matatu before it was sold to the restaurant), and three fourths of your plate filled with the most disgustingly oily french fries you can imagine.

i know, i know... but it's that or the "curry"... and lord only knows what animal died to became broth for that stuff. i'll take my chances with the chicken and chips.

so this day, we ordered and were sitting around laughing before the waitress (non english speaking kenyan) brought us a little side plate with our napkins (i mean serbiettes... napkin is the word they use for pms products here), utensils and... floss.

i thought it was this restaurant's equivalent of a toothpick... maybe they gave us floss because they ran out of toothpicks for us. not so much. it was probaly just a random string that fell off our waitress's shirt.

i looked at the plate and said "oh... is this floss?"

and daniel said "yeah... see?" as he imitated how you would use three inches of too thick string to floss your teeth.

quickly, i realized they had only provided us with one piece of floss, and i thought that was weird... so i said "really?"

walked right into that one, didnt i?

lauren and daniel were laughing so hard it took a good 10 seconds for daniel to gasp out a "no... not really!" as i realized i'd been duped again.

the non english speaking waitress brought me my roadkill and oil fries, and i mumbled "i hate everyone" as daniel put the random piece of string (or kenyan dental floss) aside so he could focus on gnawing the gristle off his piece of roadkill.

he didnt choke on it. that was sad.


daniel and the kenyan dental floss

the parade went by

today we went to do food deliveries for three different projects that TI supports. to do this, michele and i went with anne and rented a truck with a caged in truck bed that we could load ourselves and all the food and supplies into. we drove for a couple hours each way, stopping to drop off the food and greet the families.

i know that up to this point in my trip i havent mentioned much serious or emotional stuff, and thats okay cuz i like to blog about the funny stories... the serious ones have just become so precious to me that its kind of like it would cheapen them to share them. does that make sense? i will just journal about those, because i wouldnt be able to explain them fully and help you understand them unless you were here experiencing them with me, so its better to use humor. it's relatable to everyone.

that said, i will say the following for all you emo people out there who want to know about the serious side of my trip thus far (wink, wink):
it was such a special experience to be passing out food to these families and be greeted with such warmth and gratitude. i know, i know... youre thinking "well, if someone was handing me a month worth of food, i would be thankful too!" but really, thats easy to say and not common to see put into action... not really. as americans i think we accept help with the intent to pay someone back, and there is a sense of pride that usually gets in the way of true gratitude. the people here are very aware God's providence through the generosity of others more fortunate than them is what gets them through today, and they have faith that tomorrow God will provide again. there is no "i'll pay you back when i can"... just tears that seem to say what words can not. they're just so real. and the people TI supports were the poorest of the poor here and so without pretense that you truly get to see what kenya would be like if there was no corruption or manipulation... its people are just so beautiful.

so that's that... the serious side of my experiences here.

moving on... it was another day of adventures. my favorite part was riding in the truck bed doing the deliveries. i just love going fast! when we got to the open road and had a good 45 minutes of driving ahead of us, i just stood up and held onto the iron bars that were about chest level in the back of the truck, and watched kenya fly by me. so thrilling! i think it is the closest i will get to riding on the top of a matatu... daniel isnt budging on that, and i hear that the kenyans wont let me, either. they are afraid if a mzungu gets hurt, no mzungus will ride matatus anymore.

kenyans stopped and stared at the mzungu with her skirt tucked between her legs so she wouldnt flash them all, and most shouted greetings or comments in swahili to michele and i as we flew by. it was pretty dang sweet.

when we got to the back roads (main roads to the people who lived there), it was like a roller coaster. branches would whip at my face if i didnt duck down or move to the side, and children were EVERYWHERE. i loved it so much... i got home and told daniel i felt like i was on a parade float all day.

the children would run out of their huts and houses and scream "mzungu! mzungu! 'ow ahre yOU?!" or if they were too scared to speak to me, i would shout at them "sasa!" (the cool street savvy way to say hello to a child) and wave if they were too scared to speak to me. on the way back we actually had children running and screaming after us as we left their villages... it was my favorite part of the day. they are so tiny that i just wanted to scoop them all up and hug and kiss them... i wanted to stop the truck and go play with them.

too bad i was on the parade float, though.

if i had stopped, they probably wouldve pulled out all the hair on my arms, though. kenyans do not have hair on their arms, so the children all "play" with (or rip OUT) the hair on our arms. its really funny that it entertains them so much.

who needs laser hair removal? just come to kenya.

piki pikis

okay... the funnest part about writing a blog about the embarrassing but hysterical trials of riding a boda boda, is the joy in getting to write one about piki pikis (motorcycles). they are my FAVORITE mode of transportation.

bodas are 20 shillings from town, and they don't even bring us all the way home. the men huff and puff to get us about halfway to the house, and then they drop us at the foot of a hill that's impossible for them to pedal up with a passenger on the back... let ALONE me.

pikis cost 50 shillings (less than 75 cents) to go from town all the way to the gate of our house two miles away. they are the COOLEST way to travel short distances here (i havent had the opportunity to ride long distance on one, but i totally would if dan would let me. on main roads, its pretty dangerous from what i hear).

guys, i dont know how to explain the awesomeness of riding on a piki to you... but for the ladies, ive got it covered.

ladies... have you ever ridden on the back of a motorcycle with a guy friend, or maybe with your man driving you? you know all the petty girl stuff that goes through your mind when you did? well imagine how fun thatd be if you didnt have the american mindset. like... if you didnt care if your hair got messed up, or if you had the right "look at me, im so gorgeous as a biker chic" outfit... because imagine if you KNEW that every guy you passed by seriously thought you looked like his dream girl... if every person - man or woman - shouted hello to you like you were their best friend or some celebrity... that's what it's like riding a piki piki here. no joke... its an experience all on its own.

i seriously feel like angelina jolie or something, and i LOVE it.

i haven't taken a boda from town to the house yet... i dont care that its 30 shillings less... i'd rather not exhaust some kenyan man half my size and not even get all the way home.

haha... im totally lying. i couldnt care less about the money... i just love being the kenyan version of angelina jolie.

you don't know

seriously... you dont know.

remember that "i will not be offended if..." list that i posted a few days ago?

my committment to not be offended was tested today... and so much so that i buried my head in lauren's shoulder on our matatu ride home today. it was pretty much the most horrible, humiliating, and hysterical kenyan experience for an overweight very tall white girl to have in one day.

today daniel, ina, lauren and i went to the Hope Bright Future children's home where many children who are sponsored through TI are housed. the children were precious, and i laughed and played and hugged and kissed them for hours... it was pretty much perfect... but that was the house.

the traveling there, though? oh dear God.

okay... so for my friends and family reading this, i would just like to say for the record, "i HAD a BAAAAD exPERIENCE!" that's your precursor to my adventures, and the only time i will mention its unpleasantness in the form of my utter humiliation at how my weight almost killed a few kenyan men today.

they might like my booty, but they dont like hauling it up hills, ya'll.

so... oh man. where do i start? okay... so when you get to the village where the children's home is, there is about a mile and a half of very hilly dirt roads that you travel by boda.

yes... i said boda. the bicycle... ME... on the back of a bicycle with kenyan men (yes, i just used the plural form) pedaling my butt up and over hills. does this worry anyone but me? good lord.

so we took a matatu to the village, and walked up the first really steep hill into a lush and green area in the hills of the village. the hills didnt look that big to me, but then again i didnt have to pedal up them with ME on the back. a bunch of boda drivers had followed us up the hill, and stood ready for us to get on each boda. i sized them up and started to worry.

daniel said "hope, take the one in front!" and i thought "seriously? do you need glasses? he's half my size!" but i trusted daniel, and got on. to dan's credit, the guy WAS actually the strongest looking one there... but that didnt change the fact that he was still half my size.

so dan gave my boda driver a not so little push to get him going (it was more like a running start), and we went along for a minute or two until the first hill. the FIRST hill. yeah... it was more like an INCLINE, and my driver definitely gave up.

GAVE UP, people! he tried... i give him that much... but he couldnt do it. all i could think was "alright, i better get to walking" because daniel and ina and lauren werent even in sight. i was all alone in the middle of a forest with a bunch of kenyans laughing at me, and a shrimpy one that couldnt get me where i needed to go. i know... i laughed at myself, too. i walked about 100 feet before a taller and stockier (thank God!) boda driver came from behind and stopped in front of me. it was the relay race i had originally put on that "i will not be offended if.." list.

he mustve been trailing us thinking "theres no way he's gonna make it, so i'll get her business" and there he was... just his luck... or demise... i'll let you decide.

he got me there. he stopped twice, and once a bunch of school girls saw that he was about to DIE i think, and they ran along and gave him some help by pushing us up a steeper hill. i was nonstop laughing at this point, along with EVERY SINGLE KENYAN along the side of the road. it was a spectator sport.

i didnt get mad or embarrassed... not until an older kenyan grandma yelled back at me "you shouldve taken a motorbike!" from her boda (who was passing mine). she looked at me like i was pointing a gun at a helpless child. i wanted to pull the trigger on HER. it was then that all those starbucks frappucchinos felt like dead weight on my thighs and i started to shrivel inside. it was not fun.

when my second boda driver got me to the children's home, he nearly fell over from exhaustion as daniel handed him 20 shillings more than the normal price... if i wouldve had 100 shillings for him, i wouldve given him it.

on the way back, it wasnt so dramatic... but a lady from the children's home saw the shrimpy boda drivers waiting for us, and yelled at them in swahili that they needed to find a driver who was strong enough to carry me. yup... not lying. by that point, i wanted lyposuction.

going back the way we'd come, the spectators who remembered my first two boda drivers and their olympic relay race to get me up the hills actually cheered for me like they were happy i was still alive and my drivers hadnt shot me. oh... and the school girls who helped my boda up that one hill? they followed me for a bit on the way back saying "you give us something!" like i ASKED them to push me.

i was no longer laughing... i wanted to flip them off... i wouldve yelled if we werent whizzing by.

which brings me to the end of my story... i think i broke the boda driver's bike on the way back. i didnt stop to see... i was too mortified. we started skidding when he was happy for the downhill part (or just couldnt move his legs), and when he used his brakes i think the chain of his bicycle rebelled and fell off. either way, i paid him double the normal price and ran to the sympathetic faces of the other mzungus who had been waiting for me for five minutes already.

they dont know.

TIA (this is africa) #2

tia - this is africa

- while getting on a matatu, if you try to help a little girl up into it, she will hand you her chicken rather than take your hand (not even joking... the whole matatu busted up laughing while a wee one handed me her chicken. i guess the look on my face said it all)
- men who are left without a wife for a day of travel with their toddlers will strap a barstool onto the back of their boda and put the child in the upsidedown barstool. it is the kenyan carseat
- matatu drivers always have pictures of their "relatives" and "very good friends" on the windshields of their vans. everyone is related to, or friends with obama, tyra banks, shakira, akon, 50 cent, and many others
- if a huge group of men on piki pikis (motorcycles) passes you without passengers on their bikes, it's because they dont have licenses to drive, and they are running from the police. there is no such thing as a motorcycle gang here... just the future residents of the kenyan jail cells
- goats, sheep and cows are the pets of choice here... and children dont name them because they could be a pet for a day or a month, but eventually it will be dinner
- if you are white, you are rich... and you dont even need to prove it. kenyans will hand you whatever they're selling, and just stare at you like youre going to pull money out of thin air
- matatu drivers will yank an kenyan woman out of the front seat just to offer you and your white skin the best seat on the vehice... and the closest one to them (all matatu drivers are men)
- kenyan children will grab the flab under your arms and ooooh and aaaaah over it like its gold... because to them, it is. the bigger you are, the higher your dowry when you marry. i wonder how many cows i am worth... i dont think i want to know
- children will commonly shout " 'ow ahre yOU!?" as you pass, because i is the only english they know... and if you respond with "mazuri!" which means "good", they freeze with looks on their faces like "oh, she knows my language... i couldve said something better" but they moment has already passed, so they stare in dumbfounded amazement as you walk or drive on by
- when in town shopping, all kenyans will look you up and down... but if you greet them, they'll stare at the ground and say "mazuri" like theyre a child who has been caught with their hand in the cookie jar

you're in trouble now

nyorotisi is a town about an hour and a half outside of kitale. TI was made aware of a grandmother who was trying to support her four grandchildren when they became orphans awhile back, and after evaluating the situation, TI now brings them food and support.

today we brought the grandmother and her kids their food supply.

now, i say this with all the love in my heart... but nyorotisi is seriously located in the buttcrack of nowhere.

this is how our traveling to nyorotisi went:
- anne, michele and i got on a matatu van with our food and supplies, and after 30 minutes our matatu was stopped by the police. from what i could figure out, our driver had pulled off into a part of the road that he wasn't supposed to stop on
- after the police officer took out his handcuffs, we knew we wouldnt be going anywhere on that matatu, so we got on another one with 20 other people (insert big ::sigh:: here)
- another 20 minutes of driving, and we were at the junction to get in the truck bed that would take us down another dirt road further from... uh... well, "civilization"
- we got to the junction, but the toyota truck's camper shell wasnt filled yet, so we waited for a half hour for the driver and another guy to find more passengers
- after finally leaving the junction with 14 passengers in the truck's camper shell, we drove to the place where we would catch bodas... and there was only one boda. yeah. only one
- the lone boda driver cruised along behind anne and i and michele, and we trudged down a dirt road for two miles in 90 degree heat... and no shade, mind you

after being greeted by the grandmother and her grandchildren, we started the walk back.

my favorite part of the day was traveling back... the kids in the area had all gotten out of school, and it must've been a school for younger children. mind you, most little kids have seen a mzungu (white person) like once or twice in their life... and NEVER a big tall mzungu.

THEY WERE TERRIFIED OF ME.

it was tragic. i was talking to them in swahili and holding my hand of sweets out to them, and they wouldnt let me get within 20 feet of them without BOOKING IT another 200 feet down the road before stopping and staring again. i really wanted to play with them, but they wouldnt even get near me. some older ones finally took a piece of candy, but i wanted to play with the little wee ones. aww. it was so sad.

finally i gave up and put my candy away, and a short while later michele said "i wonder what they'd do if you ran at them" and i was intrigued. i had to try it.

when i got as close as theyd let me, i screamed like a banshee and took maybe three huge lunges towards them, and they froze for a millisecond with mortified looks on their faces, and then FLEW down the road and into the nearest bushes they could find.

for the rest of the 2 mile walk, i walked by giggling bushes that got really quiet as i passed.

what smells... good?

it smells here.

the smells are so bad - and so normal - that the body odor from 95% of the population around me doesn't even shock me anymore... it's commonplace, and you really cant do anything about it... so you just deal and chalk it up as part of the experience.

men walking by... the woman sitting next to me... the boda driver hauling my butt down a kenyan road... they just smell. i noticed it everyday, and at every moment for my first few days in kenya. now i only do on rare occasions when its just RAUNCHY and overly inconvenient for my nostrils to try and ignore someone's stench.

i didnt realize how used to the bad smells i'd become until i was at the internet cafe a couple days ago. i was typing away on my blog, and then was pleasantly surprised as i thought "that smells so good... what is it?" just in time for daniel to walk up behind me. a breeze had blown his cologne towards me as he walked in the door.

arent breezes amazing? i really loved that breeze. it had a special place in my heart that day.

it was so ironic... there i was, sitting among six men around me who probably hadnt showered in days or worn deodorant (ever), and what i was shocked by wasnt their stench but rather the amazing smell of dan's cologne. thats the way it is here though... you dont notice the bad smells after a few days... just the pleasant ones.

as dan left, i silently dreaded the next breath id have to take. i knew it would bring with it the common stench, and the knowledge that kenyan body odor had overpowered the good smelling italian (stallion. daniel requested i put that at the end of his new nickname).

god bless the italian stallion's cologne... it reminds my nose that this suffering will not last forever.

satan's koolaid

so... within a couple days of being in kenya, i noticed i had a scratchy throat and a bit of a headache. i wasn't alarmed, as i usually get a cold during or after traveling, so i thought i'd be fine. well, a couple days went by and although i was getting used to functioning on very little sleep and being a bit run down, i realized i'd better take something for my cold. i had been taking emergen-c packets everyday since before leaving america, so i knew i had enough vitamins, but i think my body was just in rebellion from traveling and jetlag, etc. so it didnt help.

for you to understand the remainder of this story, i feel the need to state a well-known fact about my sleeping habits.

i snore.

yes, it's true... i do. in fact, i snore loudly... and when i am sick and my nose is stuffed up, i am not offended when people use the phrase "freight train" when describing the sound of my nasal cavities. what am i gonna do? i cant help it. so... with that little precursor to my story, i will tell you that lauren and michele and ina, my roommates here in kenya, have not gotten a good night's sleep with me in the room. i've had a head cold since i arrived.

on day 3 of hope not being able to breathe properly at night, michele volunteered a bit of her vitamin supplement she brought with her to kenya, to see if she could cure me and help everyone get a good night of sleep. now, keep in mind that i am (and i say this lightly) NOT a morning person... so when michelle says "i'll go make you some vitamins," i barely have the ability to put together a "thank you" and brush my teeth, let alone ask what it tastes like.

i shouldve known from the look on her face when she came in the room stirring what looked like a weak milkshake, that it was gonna be bad... but i had no idea. she handed me the cup and said "plug your nose and just swallow".

i am so stupid... i listened to her.

even with my nose plugged, i felt like the taste buds on my tongue would never recover. the putrid odor of what i have not so affectionately dubbed "satan's koolaid" was enough to turn my stomach, but i chugged it. when that last swallow was gone, i gasped for air (which made it SOO much worse) and all i could think to say was "MOTHER TRUCKER!" as i leaned over the sink in our room waiting for the puking to start... it was THAT bad.

there was no puking... but if it wouldve, i guarantee the first time it went down couldn't be worse than the first time it came up.

so, there you go... the worst thing i've put in my mouth while in kenya was actually from america.

babies and a birthday party

we have a couple families staying here with us at the TI compound.

katherine and her two little ones, anna (5), and joseph (3), are darling. the kids just love being here. they run around the compound dragging the guard dogs with them, along with any extra mud or dust they can find. its adorable, and quite the exciting adventure in even the smallest little things that only wee ones their age would notice... like following the ants to their hill, or the storks swooping over the backyard. it's all so exciting for them... and anna is currently reading over my shoulder as i write this blog. haha... hi anna.

she just read that and said "heeeey! why did you write that to meeee?!" as she tossed her head of curls that make her look like tarzan's child. oh she's a cutie.

the young couple we have staying here with us, mike and manon (man-oh), are amazing. we just adore them and their wee one, aliyah. its been a rough trip for them having to adjust to the time change along with life overseas with a one year old in tow. i dont know how they survive on so little sleep and still doing all they do during the day with their different projects in town. i love that manon's mother tongue is french. she speaks to aliyah in it... so, naturally, she also sings her french songs. it isnt uncommon to hear a soothing french lullaby wafting down the hall as she tries to get aliyah to bed. its so beautiful and surreal.

that said, manon wanted to have a surprise birthday party for mike... so on friday morning she got him out of the house to go meet with people at some projects they and a group of people from canada support. success! he was gone, and dan and lauren had covertly hired a few kenyan women to come and cook a feast for the 40 or so children that would be arriving around noon at the house.

at 9am, ina, michele, lauren and i went out to the side of the house where mark and derek (the newest TI staff members), had built 3 traditional kenyan firepits the day before. basically, just imagine three huge rocks in a triangle with space between them to build a medium sized campfire. on top of each of those, an army sized pot to hold cabbage (that we cut), tomatoes (that we boiled and then sliced), and a huge amount of meat and potatoes. most of the time michele and i didnt know what the crap we were doing, and the cooks corrected us, but we had a successful experience. along with all that was enough chapati (really thick flour tortillas) for the 40+ people.

it was alot of food.

the food was prepared and cooked for 3 hours and then the kids arrived. shortly afterwards, mike came back to the house and was thrilled that most of the kids from their projects had come to surprise him. he had no clue, so manon was pleased that the party was a success. the rest of the day was filled with laughter and games and pictures... and of course the eating of the food.

the kids loved the nailpolish i brought with me. ina and i painted toes and fingers for a good hour before the two bottles of polish id brought out were gone. they were such a hit. even some of the adult women asked for me to paint their nails... i hear the nailpolish will be an equally fantastic hit with the older kids as well as the young ones we saw at the party.

boda boda

on the way back to town from the neema girls' project, i had my first boda boda ride.

a boda boda is a bicycle taxi... basically in the states it'd be the equivalent of an older schwinn bicycle with a metal rack on the back... only these metal racks are about 20 inches long (if that), and are welded onto the bicycle so they can hold the weight of a human being.

the bikes are seriously so funny... most of them have what i can only describe as little padded skirts coming off the back of their passenger seat racks, and normally a saying like "god loves" or something religiously cheesy is scrawled in permanent marker on the sides of the seat skirt.

seriously, they need all the Jesus they can get when driving on these roads... good LORD it's chaotic and dangerous.

before i left the states, i was telling my sisters and daniel's family that as id heard the stories from here, there were a few things i would not be offended by in africa, and was going to prepare myself for. most were about the boda rides.

my "i will not be offended IF..." list was as follows:
- if... kenyans call me fat... because i am, and because to them, it is a compliment
- if... a boda driver tells me he wants double the shillings to ride my butt two miles across unsmooth dirt and hilly ground... cuz seriously, i'd demand double to carry an amazonian white girl on the back of my bicycle, too
- if... after receiving double the payment for riding me on his bike, the kenyan man half my size decides to make me walk up a hill rather than attempt to ride me... cuz thats just being smart, and i admire good sense in a man
- if... after watching me trudge up the hill after him and his bicycle, he changes his mind about riding me the rest of the way and just runs away with my money... nope. i wont mind.
- if... it's like a relay race to get me where i need to go. i wont mind... itll be more adventurous and the stories will be better

so these are all the things i'd thought about my boda boda ride BEFORE coming to africa... and i was quite intrigued to see if any would come true.

none did. it was so much better than i couldve dreamed up.

i got on the boda with the biggest beefiest driver (probably 170 lbs... if that), and i hiked my skirt up between and around my legs, as we took off and daniel told his boda "follow her" (bodas have tried to run off with white girls who didnt know where they were going, before). i still didnt know the middle of a forest from the road to the compound at that point... so dan made sure i got where i was going.

staying on the bike was fine... ive got good balance. i just wanted to laugh so hard, though. the following story shouldve been embarrassing, but it wasnt. it's just part of the experience here.

other bodas would be passing us, and my driver was huffing and puffing like his life depended on it. the comments (which i'm sure were ones of pity) from the other drivers and their passengers, as well as the kenyans who stopped on the side of the road to watch him ride me by, were enough to keep him going i guess. i felt sorry for him on some uphill parts, so i said "sawa.. sawa" in swahili with means "good... good". it was all i could do to apologize for the fact that he probably wouldnt be able to ride anyone for like a day. i'm sure i broke his legs.

he was a celebrity for that 5 minute one mile bike ride... though what can i say? i live to promote the kenyan celebrity of those who taxi me around when its too far for me to walk, or too hot to make the effort.

oh... and in case youre wondering, i paid him 20 shillings... which is like 25 cents.

neema girls' project

the neema girls' project is a home for street girls who could easily become, or already once were, prostitutes.

we went to see the neema girls and had a blast visiting with them. it was michelle and i's first time to go and experience the way the girls relate to one another away from the roughness of the streets.

believe me when i say these girls are BEAUTIFUL.

seriously, they are stunning. some are softer in demeanor than the others, and some are rougher (all depending upon the amount of time they spent on the streets, or their backgrounds), but they bond together like a family.

the simplest thing to help teach them english is used when we visit. lauren and i sang and danced the hokey pokey with them for a good 15 minutes, and they loved it.

i brought out my camera and ipod (with speaker), and omigosh... we danced to beyonce (let's hear it for the single ladies!), they braided our hair, and we all talked and laughed. for a couple hours.

the way daniel interacts with each girls on a personal level is pretty amazing. many come from very heartbreaking pasts of abuse or mistrust when it comes to men, so he doesnt push when he visits once a week to check on them and their housemother and teachers... they all just set their level of familiarity, and he goes with the flow.

to them, he is "uncle dan", and you should see their faces light up when he's around. to some, i'm sure he is the only many they have ever - or maybe will ever - trust... and it's touching to see.

i am getting used to the culture here, but man is it awesome to see how people who have been here for a few months (or years, in dan's case) have adapted to the culture and its people, habits, relational habits and skills, etc. it is pretty mindblowing.

if you have a pair, you apparently don't care

okay... so i have narrowed down the rudeness in this culture to the following statement:

"if you have a pair, then you apparently don't care"

i say this because the other day lauren and i were doing errands in town, and a boy probably about 14 years old just leaned up against a truck about 3 feet away from where lauren and i were standing on the sidewalk (and by sidewalk, i mean rock-hewn ditch), and he just stared at me.

so naturally, lauren yells at him and asks him in swahili what he thinks he's doing, and he makes the following statement: "she is good to look at", and goes right back to staring at me like it's his right.

now, mind you i'm thinking at this point that i could literally just throw him over my shoulder and spank him for being rude, but apparently in this culture if you have a penis, you can be as bold and as outspoken as you would like - to whomever you like.

lauren though? oh man... lauren is about 5'6, blonde, and one heck of a fiesty texan girl. she knows enough of the language after her 5 months here, to give any man a good tongue lashing. the part that's ironic though, is that she usually gives the tongue lashings on my behalf because i dont know the language yet... so here you have me, a 6' amazonian white girl, standing in the middle of the ditch kinda looking blankly at a 14 year old kenyan thinking "i have no idea what you're saying, but i could kick your butt, so i'm not worried"... and then a little blonde texan half my size stepping in front of me to "protect" me. oh man... it's so funny.

the only reason lauren can do that is because the men here are SOOOO unconfrontational. they might think they run the world and can do anything they want, but if anyone seriously questions that right with a loud enough voice, then they back down.

seriously, i can't wait for the first time i get to shake my fist (which has a fake 20 shilling wedding band on it to ward off some of the men) at an obstinant kenyan man and shout "MY HUSBAND WILL BEAT YOU!" until he backs off. seriously, that will be a blog in its own... not even kidding. it'll be soooo awesome. that will be my favorite day in kenya, i think.

kolongolo school

we went to kolongolo to be there for the inauguration of it's first preschool. the people were so thrilled to have us there, and it was a fantastic community. the women and children are beautiful, and the men are obnoxious and obstinent. :)

after the ceremony where too many people spoke, we were invited into the home of the school leader to enjoy lunch while lauren and anne, TI's social worker, took measurements for the children's uniforms.

after sitting down and having my first cup of frickin AMAZING kenyan chai tea, and some eggs and buttered bread, the chief of the village and his wife started talking to one another, and i noticed he was pointing to me. i met his gaze, and daniel, michelle, and seven other adults watched on as he said the following:

"you... you are big. how many kilos? how much do you weigh?" to which i paused one second before answering, "too much!"

daniel watched with an amused look on his face, and i wanted to bust out laughing SO HARD. i am aware that in kenya my height and weight make me every man's ... uh... well, fantasy... but the chief actually asking me that just amused me to no end. i wasn't offended at all.

right after he asked me and i answered, though, another man - victor, i think - said "chief... with respect, i tell you americans do not ask these questions. they are considered rude." and then he looked at me and said "a woman's weight is her.. her... secret WEAPON in america, no?!" and that's what it took to get me laughing. i said "yes... yes it IS an american woman's secret weapon!"

there were so many funny conversations that afternoon, but the highlight was the ride home. we rode on an original matatu... basically the smallest toyota truck you can imagine, with a 5 foot tall camper shell on the back. we crammed 21 people inside the shell, and 4 on top. it wasn't so bad, because i was so amused and it was my first experience... but i am now trying to convince daniel to let me ride on top of one before i leave. he thinks its dangerous,but i think itd be an adventure on a not so bumpy road (which i dont think exists).

first trip to kitale town

okay... so lauren is pretty frickin amazing, not gonna lie. she makes me laugh so hard, and she and i and michelle (and now ina) have soooo much fun together. we're getting to be a close knit little family after a few days together.

the second day in kitale, we went on our first trip to town, and lauren was our guide. something she told us we had to learn really quick, is that when outside, the bigger the vehicle or bike, that's the one that has the right of way. a semi and a matatu will literally play a game of chicken until the matatu driver realizes that he will NOT win, if the semi driver isn't bluffing. either way, mini van does not trump semi truck.

the same can be said for people (even white people), and boda boda drivers. boda bodas are bicycles with seat on the back... kinda like the bike every kid wants, because he can transport kids on the little seat on the back.

the first trip to town, here are a few things that happened:
- i crossed the road near the most busy turnaround in kitale, and a boda came out of nowhere, and i had to take a big step to the other side of the road to avoid getting hit. no sooner did i take the step, but every black person around michelle and lauren and i shouted "eh! MAZUNGU MAZUNGU!!" (hey! white person, white person!)just in time for me to avoid being flattened by the matatu i had just stepped in front of.
- a man shouted "eh! obama family!" at lauren, and she explained that here, americans are thought to know president obama personally... and he's a celebrity here. so if someone asks you if you know obama, you say yes, and they say "oh... me too.he is my best closest friend!" and then apparently you are the coolest thing on the PLANET. it's really histerical.
- my first visit to a kenyan store was eventful, as a man was getting bodily dragged from the store by five grown men who honestly looked like they were having a HARD time of getting him out of there.
- while touring shop building, a drunken man walked up to me and looked at lauren and tried to barter for me to be his wife. seriously? little lauren is going to sell me to him? puhLEEZ.
- five minutes later, we were taking pictures of the scenery from that same building's top floor, and a man walked up to me and told me "i like your body" straight to my face. yeah... no joke.
- i walk down the street, and matatus slow down, bodas nearly collide with each other, men click their tongues at me, women shout "oh..oh wow. wowowow." at each other, and watch me pass by with jealous eyes. what i didnt truly understand upon coming to kenya is that white people are celebrities here, but tall white girls who are overweight like me are pretty much considered SUPERMODELS. its so funny.
- we went to the market, and five market ladies stood up and started cackling until one shouted "FAITH! FAITH!" and not until i was in the midst of all of them, was i able to get my hand free enough to grab a picture of faith and say "no... no faith is my TWIN... we are sisters!" and they just thought it was the most amazing thing theyd ever heard or seen. rosemary, a markey lady next to me, says faith is much better at swahili than me, and lauren had to tell her i'd only been there for two days. rosemary also says faith is her "very best good friend". then of course michelle and i got swahili lessons from the women around us. they just loved it, and i fell in love with their weatherworn smiles and loud cackling laughs when i messed up a word. seriously, i think i probably end up cussing at kenyans in their language like 20 times a day just because i have no idea what the crap i'm saying half the time. haha
- when we met dan and a few people for lunch later, i asked lauren if kenyans used napkins, and she looked at me really funny for a couple seconds and then it registered what i meant. she shouted out "eh... serbiettes?" to our waitress, and then whispered to me that napkins are feminine products here. ugh... ive never been so thankful for lauren in my life. i probably would've sad it outloud for the whole restaurant to hear if she wasnt around.

life here is an adventure, and i am so enjoying it all. for now it is new and exciting, and there is always something new to do. the TI team never seems to tire of the endless outings and checkups they do. my entire first two weeks has already been planned out. phew.

TIA (this is africa)

daniel has a saying: TIA

it means "this is kenya", and it's his way of saying life here is very unpredictable. he is soooo right.

michelle and i are here safe and sound, and our travels were super safe. i've never been overseas, so it was a great time to experience even the sucky parts of traveling, like waiting... and waiting... and waaaaaiting for flight, baggage, etc. good times for sure, and always fun meeting new friends.

on the ride from SFO to London, i sat by a girl named kate, and she was going home to london after visiting her man in san fran... he just moved. she and hit it off, and she became my first friend in london. she heard i was gonna travel around the city for a day when we landed, and wanted to show me around, but her parents already had her day scheduled since she missed Christmas, so she and i and michelle are going to have dinner together on our return layover in london. she was a doll, and so fun to talk to! i love all the different accents of people we heard and talked to during our travels.

i'm in an internet cafe in kitale right now, and it costs around 1 shilling per minute for internet. keep in mind that 78 shillings equal one american dollar, and you get around 78 minutes for one dollar. super cool!

to make the most of this email, i'll give you little TIA (this is africa) blurbs from my travels:

- zebras, baboons, goats, dogs, pigs, and cows are only a few of the animals you will see along the road here

- men do relatively NOTHING compared to women here. they sit on their butts and the women are like little flies buzzing around doing everything. its really interesting, and makes me want to throw rocks at the guys until they at least shift over a few inches on their well-worn patches of sand they keep indenting with their butts. ugh.
- there is a stand selling potatoes, fruit, bottles of recycled tea or soda, or something equally scary, about every 1/4 mile here
- i had lunch at a restaurant (or "hotel) and had my first african meal of somosas, chapati and bananas, which is pretty decent... i'm gonna have to get used to onions being the choice flavoring for food here. its not pleasant to my palate. blecht
- we went throught he rift valley

- crossed the equator (twice)
- thought the shuttle we were on for 3 hours was going to literally vibrate apart from its hinges, but miraculously it did not disintegrate under me (unlike my emotional stability while nearly dying 3,000 times in 3 hours)
- daniel thinks is "rocked to sleep" by his head pounding against the shuttle window, because his tolerance for kenyan travel is unreal
- tailgating is not a word here... it is the way you drive... along with cutting people, semis, and buses off just because you can
- everyone wears beanies, hats, scarf, or sweaters, just because the can
- 70 degrees is cold to africans
- a thin kenyan mattress feels like memory foam crafted by Jesus's very hands after 48 hours of traveling, and only 5 hours of random sleep

thats just a portion of the things i remember from our 9 hour trip on taxi, shuttle, and kangaroo (small minivan), to the TI compound. the compound is beautiful... lush and green, although i want to buy a slingshot and shoot the bird that are obnoxious in the morning.

michelle and i are not alone here. we have company in daniel, lauren, ina (who is in mombasa visiting with her family who came to see her, but should be back in the next couple days), and two families with little wee ones, along with mark and derek, two new TI staff members.

we all sat around and talked and sang this morning for a good hour or so, and it was soooo relaxing and familial. this is my second day, and it's been amazing.

on our way... in london now

okay i have exactly 5 min left on this computer.

quick rundown...

- sfo is an amazing airport. so much fun to travel when you start there. real simple to navigate.

- 10 hour trips to london should be done with a neck pillow and a blanket to throw over your head so no one can see you drooling

- watching the little map on the plane's tv screen, of where you are over the world is kind of like being in the "where in the world is carmen sandiego" game

- i have never had a more horrid breakfast in my life, as i did at the london airport this morning. who the heck eats eggs, sausage, baked beans, steamed mushrooms, steamed tomato, and like... other UNMENTIONABLES for breakfast? seriously, i wanted to puke.

- when in doubt of how much you need to pay someone in pounds, just hold out your money and say "take what you need"