Kenya Speak

Though I’m still far from fluent, I’m starting to internalize some Kiswahili, and am developing preferences for some of the common phrases.

Phrases I Dislike

“Tuko pamoja?”: “Are we together?” This is like in a college lecture when the professor wants to make sure the class is paying attention, but slightly more condescending, in my opinion. Many of our technical instructors and guest speakers used it abundantly, so it brings back memories of training whenever I hear it.

“Isn’t it?” Always said in English, the speaker is looking for you to agree with whatever he has just said leading up to the “isn’t it.” I find it extremely irritating because either I’ve been nodding and showing my agreement clearly anyway or I don’t want to commit to agreeing and am now forced to. Or it’s used at the end of a rhetorical question, in which case there is no good way to respond.

“tsssst” (hissing sound) Used to call waiters in a restaurant or mzungus. I’ve worked as a server long enough to cringe every time this happens and not be able to bring myself to do it. Also, I’m not a dog or a cat, don’t hiss at me.

Phrases I Like

“Wewe”: “You” (pronounced “wayway” or sometimes just “way”) Like saying “hey, you” to get someone’s attention. Also a reprimand when used by a mama with a certain tone. I like its versatility.

“Hakuna shida”: “There is no problem” Either really means it’s ok, no problem, or there is a problem, but we’ll work it out. I get this from my boss a lot, and generally his body language clues me in as to which one he means. But things always work out, so it’s good to hear. (By the way, “Hakuna matata” from the Lion King really does mean “there are no worries.”)

“Labda kesho”: “Maybe tomorrow” Actually this could go on either list. Kenyans use it when they really mean no, but since no one just directly says no (it’s culture), they say this instead. So it’s not good to hear, but great to say, when you are trying to politely say no. Also good for refusing marriage proposals.

“Sema”: “Say/speak” Means “what’s the word?” or “talk to me.” My homestay baba (dad) always answered his phone “sema” instead of “hello.” I think it’s funny.

Reading List

Another volunteer gave me this link: www.gutenberg.org. It is a site where you can download thousands of books that are no longer under copyright. Since I have time on my hands and love reading anyway, I am thrilled. However, I'm sort of at a loss for what to read. I'm about halfway through Sense and Sensibility and would love ideas for what to read next. I'd like something different, and am open to just about anything...

Suggestions? Remember, these are all out of copyright, so nothing current or new. Thanks so much! miss you and love you.

My Walk Home

I noticed I’ve been getting awfully reflective in my recent posts and not described a whole lot of my day to day, so this post is about my walk home from work. I’ll describe today’s walk specifically, but there’s not a lot of variation, so it applies to most days.

I pack up my laptop and Kiswahili text (in case I get inspired to study tonight) in the office around 4:45. I say goodbye to two coworkers on my way out and leave the compound. As I exit the gate, I turn left and take a shortcut across a small hill behind some of the market stalls that line the road. There’s just been a new delivery of second-hand clothes, so there are several mamas sorting through the selection of t-shirts in some of the stalls. I cross the road and enter the back of the market square. I need to pick up some produce for the next couple days because I’ve been away all weekend and my kitchen is empty. I’m planning to stir fry some veggies with some rice tonight. I just discovered one mama sells cilantro, which I love and will add to anything, so I stop there first. I greet her, ask for the cilantro, and tell her I want 10 shillings worth all in Kiswahili and give myself a mental high five for doing so. Last time I also bought zucchini from her, but today it looks pretty shabby, so I decide not to. I walk toward the front of the market as many of the sellers call for me to buy from them in both English and Kiswahili. I pass a stand selling tomatoes, onions, kale, and bananas. And then I pass another stand selling tomatoes, onions, kale, bananas, and pineapples. Then another, and another. Occasionally there are green peppers, potatoes, and I did see some pumpkins, but just about every stand has the same staples of varying quality and quantity. I cross over to another section where all of the stalls sell beans, lentils, and ingredients to make uji (porridge). These sellers must have finally figured out that I don’t actually eat any of those things, so didn’t bother to harass me. I got to the front section with more of the same produce as in the back. I have two sellers in that section that I generally buy from , one because he has garlic and the other because the mama was nice to me. With so little distinction in price and quality, those are the kinds of things a buyer goes on to decide which stalls to frequent. I bought six roma tomatoes, a bunch of garlic, three green peppers, and six onions for 65 shillings—slightly less than $1. (All the produce is smaller here, which works well when you’re only cooking for one.) I spotted another stall with zucchini, so I went over to get some. I started to ask for it in Kiswahili, but have no idea what the word for zucchini is, so I just trailed off and pointed. The seller said, “oh, zucchini?” and I said “yes.” (When we were learning food in language class, our teacher told us that even though words exist for all the produce, a lot of it is called by its English name regardless. Works out for me.) I asked for 10 shillings worth and he gave me three. I walk past the eight cabbage sellers spread out by the gate (they also know I never buy cabbage so didn’t ask) and turn left onto the road.

I walk past the post office and into the closest thing to a grocery store my town has. I greet the mama who is always at the “register” (cash box), who is the same mama who told me I should marry her son if I was going to be here for two years. I try to go to this store because my boss recommended it and they’ve always been very nice to me. However, I’m realizing they’re pretty expensive. I want to make a cake this weekend and need eggs, sugar, and cocoa. I already knew they don’t sell eggs, so I was planning to get the sugar and cocoa and pick up the eggs another place tomorrow. Most of the shops sell sugar they’ve bought in bulk and bagged by weight, which is cheaper than branded sugar, but this shop only had the expensive kind, so I’ll skipp that too and just buy the cocoa. 100 shillings for a small container. That’s actually kind of a lot, but like I said, I’m trying to support the shop. Tomorrow I’ll go to the shop across from the office and get the eggs and sugar (6 eggs and ½ kilo sugar: around 80 shillings/slightly more than $1).

I digress for a minute, but humor me: I’m conditioned from the other traveling I’ve done to convert prices here into US$ to know how much things cost. However, in doing that I’ve always had a US$ budget to spend. Now that my salary is in shillings, it’s kind of pointless to do the conversion. Instead I’ve figured out what I earn per day, and it gives a much better sense of what I’m spending to compare the prices to that.

Ok, back to my walk. I pay for the cocoa and say goodbye in Kiswahili. I turn right and keep walking. I pass the bank and some mechanics and the shop where I sometimes buy fresh milk. Several full matatus whiz past on the road headed toward Karatina. I start down the hill and hear some hissing. Across the road is a stream of primary schoolchildren just leaving school in their navy blue shorts, plaid blue shirts, and navy blue sweaters (that they’ve worn all day even though it’s at least 80 degrees still at 5pm). The hissing is coming from them. Here in Kenya, hissing is an acceptable way of getting the attention of a waiter, or apparently a mzungu like me. I actually prefer the hissing to the “howareyou” chant we got in Loitokitok because it’s much easier to ignore. I stop at the lone produce stall just above my house to get some mangoes. I feel like I should buy from her whenever possible because she’s my neighbor, so I bought three huge mangoes for 60 shillings. I say goodbye and walk toward my gate. There are a sheep and a goat tied up along the road to graze. Still not sure who they belong to, but they’re there often. A new addition, though is a tiny kid. As I walk past, it jumps, skips, and hops over to its mother for protection. I open my gate and come around the side of the building. I scan the yard to locate the turkeys and chickens (to make sure I’m not going to get attacked), then check to make sure they haven’t left any presents on my steps. I unlock the door and step inside. I’m home.

On Being a Good Volunteer

Do what you love. This has always seemed to me to be the best advice given on the subject of what to be when I grow up. My biggest challenge in following this advice is figuring out what I love. I’m pretty specific on the things I dislike, but I like a lot of things. Generally liking something provides the motivation to pursue it until you’re really good at it, and this combination usually produces something to love. However, I have been blessed to be good at almost everything I am interested in. I don’t say this to be cocky, but to point out its downside. It gives me too many options while preventing a particular focus, or anything that stands out as something I should pursue.

When I got my assignment to Kenya, I was asked to fill out a resume to be shown to my host organization. On that resume I needed to list my hobbies and interests. I had a really difficult time doing that. While I could have listed twenty or thirty interests, my hobbies have been pretty limited. I am happy to do almost anything, but have trouble choosing what to focus on, so usually just go with whatever the people around me are doing. Since the people around me are frequently changing, so the hobbies are changing too. I don’t stick with many things long enough to consider them a personal hobby, just something I did for a while.

So why am I bringing this up today? I’ve been reading a lot of the other volunteers’ blogs and seeing the kinds of projects they’re already becoming involved in or making plans to initiate at their sites. And then I look at my site, and my lack of inspiration for these things, which the PC calls “secondary projects.” I am really glad that I have a main project that is so interesting to me (coffee), but am at a complete loss to figure out what I should be doing for that, let alone figuring out anything else. Others have started dance classes, libraries, special interest clubs, business classes, and environmental projects, according to their interests. I walk around my town and look at things.

I knew coming to site that I will not be one of those volunteers that immediately jumps into the community and finds ways to be involved. That has never been my style, and even coming halfway around the world is not going to change that. But now that I’ve been here for some time and am starting to feel comfortable in my surroundings, I’m starting to feel like I should have at least some idea of what else to do here. And…I have no clue! We have six more weeks until we get together for the last phase of PC training, so I think it’s acceptable to still be figuring it out until then, but even thinking that I’m starting to put pressure on myself to be a good volunteer. One of the cool things about PC, though, is that there are so many definitions of a “good volunteer.” What one person does at one site to be successful is not what everyone else has to do. It’s like a choose-your-own-adventure book come to life. And while things probably won’t wrap up as easily as they do in a story, the twists and turns are just as exciting.

As I think about what it will mean for me to be a successful volunteer, I have thought a lot about the reasons I joined PC in the first place. It’s fun to be able to see some of those reasons already validated, even in this short time. Yes, they may be the more self-serving reasons because the altruistic ones will take more time to achieve, but it’s still comforting to see they’re being realized. I’m living in another part of the world, I’m being challenged to learn new things, I’m reinforcing life skills that I will need no matter where life takes me, I’m gaining a more balanced perspective, I’m meeting some really great people, I’m traveling, and while I may not know what kinds of projects I want to do here, I think I’m figuring out some things for when I return to the US. The things that will take more time are exchanging my culture with people in my community and figuring out sustainable ways to help my community and my host organization. These are not exactly easy tasks, so I hope that I can figure out ways to complete them and thus earn the title of a “good” volunteer.

Green Hills of Africa

Ernest Hemingway spent a lot of time in Kenya and wrote about his experiences in a couple books. I found one in the PC library and read it during training. Not that Hemingway is someone whose character I admire, but I do like the way he writes. This is where I came across the well-known—well, it was familiar to me, so I assume it’s not unheard of—quote: “So if you have loved some woman and some country you are very fortunate and, if you die afterwards it makes no difference.” As I am experiencing life in Kenya, it was fun to read his observations and compare them with mine. He goes on to say:

“Now, being in Africa, I was hungry for more of it, the changes of the season, the rains with no need to travel, the discomforts that you paid to make it real, the names of the trees, of the small animals, and all the birds, to know the language and have time to be in it and to move slowly. I had loved country all my life; the country was always better than the people. I could only care about people a very few at a time” (The Green Hills of Africa).

The longer I’m here the more beautiful the country seems. I am growing very fond of the hills and plants and birds and sky. It’s true that at this point I probably love the country “better than the people.” It’s not always easy to love people who shout “mzungu!” as I approach and then blatantly talk about me in their language as I walk past, or those who ask me for money or preach incorrect doctrine at me as I’m walking. But the people are part of the country, and as I get more attached to it, as I do every day, I become more attached to them.

Another Use for a Leso

I think I've mentioned lesos before. It's basically just a rectangle of patterned fabric. I think they're usually hemmed, but mine are not. yet. I may get ambitious, but probably not. These have about a million and one uses. The most common are as a wrap skirt for the mamas here. I have also seen them commonly used as head wraps, shawls, baby carriers (they just sling the baby on their back and tie the leso around their shoulders, then usually add another one loosely over the baby for warmth because it's only about 85 most of the time...). I have four, three of which were gifts. One is a tablecloth and the other I wrap around my laptop when I carry it in my backpack and sometimes use as a lap blanket at the office when I want to sit in ways not appropriate for someone wearing a skirt (indian style at my desk, usually). It's also been great napkin, towel, and yoga mat. Today, I discovered yet another use for it:

This is a leso tied acrosee my front door to make a barrier. The reason I needed it is below:

This little guy (I think it's a baby turkey, but it's hard to know for sure because we have chickens and turkeys running around) came in for a visit this afternoon. He checked out the entire living room, then my spare room and the bathroom before I kicked him out. I have the door open for air and light, so I didn't want to shut it, but I'm not fond of messy visitors, so I improvised.

Also, just to let you know, I adjusted the comments so that you can now leave one as "anonymous" without having a blogger account. I didn't realize it was restricted, so if you tried to comment and couldn't, sorry, and here's your chance!

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Learning How to Sit

A big part of Kenyan culture is just sitting. I say “just” from a Western perspective, when really it is so much more than that. In such a communal culture, people value spending time together. For the mamas and their girls, the days are filled with such strenuous labor and never-ending demands, that a few minutes spent sitting and talking has been well-earned. For the men, many of whom spend the bulk of their day watching the town and discussing the comings and goings (especially now that they have a mzungu—me—to talk about!), this is their primary occupation. Decisions are made, consensus is formed, ideas are exchanged, and progress is achieved all through this seeming inactivity. The foundation of any town here is its inhabitants’ art of sitting.

This is something our cross-culture trainers tried to get across to us throughout training. For most of us volunteers, however, it’s not something that sinks in right away. To understand and see the value of sitting, having grown up and been employed in the US, takes some time and practical experience. Even after having it drilled into our heads for two months, and then reminding myself every day for another month, I still find myself frustrated at coming in to the office every day to…just sit. I bring my computer and do my own stuff, but by lunchtime I have this creeping sense of guilt for not doing anything “productive” for the co-op. This is compounded this week by my supervisor and the rest of the staff running around to prepare for a huge audit next week by our Fair Trade certifier. In the midst of that hustle and bustle, it takes everything in me to keep still and believe that there is value in learning the art of sitting. Pole pole (slowly slowly) is how things work in Kenya, and pole pole is how I will learn to adjust to them; for now I will rein in my guilt and pretend to be content while I sit.

One Month Anniversary

Well I have been at site now for four full weeks. The people in town seem to finally be understanding I may be sticking around for a while, not just passing through. This I can tell because they stare less overtly (though it's still pretty obvious) and the shopkeepers of the shops I like are starting to remember my purchases. Actually, yesterday one shopkeeper told me if I was staying for two years I should marry her son. That's completely logical: I chose to live in Kenya for two years to find a husband because there weren't enough choices in the US... I just laughed and told her I didn't want to get married yet, which is a completely foreign concept to people here.

Now that I've been doing this for a few weeks, I have fallen into a pretty set routine. Having a routine helps me to remember to do things like take my vitamin and it's comforting. Here's a typical weekday: I wake up between 5:30 and 6:30 to use the toilet. I am super spoiled to have an indoor toilet, so I don't have to put on extra clothes to be decent like I would if I had to use an outdoor one. It's usually still dark at this point, so I go back to bed for a little bit. I don't usually sleep, just lay under my mosquito net and think about things. Since the malaria medicine I'm on induces such weird dreams, a lot of mornings I try to piece the ones from the night together and laugh at how strange they are. I get up sometime between 7 and 8, make my bed, and turn my computer on. I light my stove to heat water for coffee (yes, I got my hands on some fresh roasted and ground pure Kenyan coffee and it's delicious!) or hot chocolate and decide what I want for breakfast. This morning I made toast for the first time by buttering some bread and frying it in my sufaria (cooking pot), then scrambled some eggs. Other mornings I have Wheatabix, which starts out looking like mini-wheats and then I add warm milk and Rulison honey and it becomes similar to oatmeal. If I thought ahead to buy fruit the night before, I'll have pineapple or mango also. I check my email and write in my journal while I eat breakfast, then get dressed and pack the laptop to bring to work.

I leave my house around 9 and walk the 10 minutes through town to the office. Here is a picture of the front:


I say hello to Mary in the office next to mine as I unlock my door and unpack my things. This is my office:
I open the window to get some air, which means whatever music I listen to on my laptop competes with the blaring radio at the market stall outside. It reminds me, if I ever start to forget, that I'm in the middle of Kenya, but most of the time it's fine. It does serve a useful purpose: when the power goes out in town, the radio goes off, so I know to turn off my laptop, and when the power comes back on, so does the radio, so I know I can use my laptop again. Throughout the morning I do a mix of research for the co-op and personal stuff like writing and reading and memorizing. Most days there's not much work-related to do, so I'm trying to learn as much as I can and waiting for my boss to have time to give me things to do. I've visited several of our factories and the mill where our coffee is processed, sat through a couple meetings, read all of the reports and strategic plans, and brainstormed a lot, and still I'm not sure where to go from here. By 1:30 I'm starving, despite having chai and a snack mid-morning, and go to lunch, always to the same place, since restaurants in town are kind of limited. When I get back from lunch I study Kiswahili or read the news until 4:30. Then I pack up and go home.

I've started cooking dinner pretty regularly, but just about everything I make is two portions, so I am only cooking about every other night and having leftovers in between. If it's a night that I'm cooking, I usually stop at the market or a duka to pick up some produce for the meal. I was buying fresh milk (12 shillings/15 cents) for 1/2 kilo (about 2 cups), but I was saving the second cup til morning for breakfast and it kept going bad, so I finally gave up and just bought powdered milk. When I get home I put things away, change, and go for a walk. There is one road into town that splits on the other side, so that makes three choices for my walk. However, there is a dirt road across the street from me that I found about two weeks ago, and I love it. There are fewer people on it and it's beautiful because it winds through the countryside and past all these cool houses. It also gives a breathtaking view of Mt Kenya when it's clear. I don't usually bring my camera with me, so of course on the days I do the mountain is covered in clouds. The whole rest of the sky will be clear and bright blue, and the mountain will have a clump of clouds hiding it. So this is the mountain hiding:


Before I leave I will have a clear picture of it, I promise! At least I will try. I get home around 6 and cook and relax, so that I'm generally finished with dinner by a little after 7. I heat my water and take a bucket bath, then do a crossword puzzle and read and wind down until bed between 9 and 10. I just started reading Sense and Sensibility, so I read that until I can't keep my eyes open and then call it a night. It seems like I'm sleeping for a really long time, but I don't sleep here like I did at home, so there may be a lot of quantity, but it's not good quality. Then I wake up the next morning and do it all over again.

The weekends are my escape from routine. I usually go visiting other volunteers, which entails a lot of riding in matatus and eating and exploring new places, so I'm worn out by Sunday night. I spent this past weekend in Nairobi, which was an adventure.

I wish I had more entertaining things to tell you, but my mind is blank at the moment. Time is still passing in its funny longest-days-of-my-life-but-where-did-the-past-three-months-go? way. I still have way too much time to just think, which is leaving me emotionally exhausted. I'm used to being busy and physically and mentally exhausted, but this emotional stuff is new to me and something to get used to. I still think the other volunteers are probably the coolest people I've ever met and they help enormously to get through each week. I'm sorry that I don't get to spend more time with them, especially the ones out on the coast. My cell phone rate is 3 shillings per minute or 2 shillings per text message (outgoing only; incoming is free), and I went through 1,000 shillings in two weeks trying to keep in touch!

As I sit here wracking my brain trying to think what else to tell you, I see what time it is and think I should probably wrap this up. Miss you all!

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Things That Made Me Happy Today

(1) Weekend plans: I'm going to the big N (Nairobi) to eat sushi and cheeseburgers. After dreaming about chocolate cake and mom's homemade pizza last night, I'm ready for some American food.

(2) Furniture! I have a couch. It was delivered with two matching chairs, a tv stand/cabinet, and a vanity for my bedroom.


(3) The couch and chairs are zebra print. Not my usual style. Actually none of my furniture is my usual taste at all because I had nothing to do with its creation. Let me explain: all of my furniture is being made by a member of the co-op I work for who is also a (very expensive) carpenter. I paid for my bed and coffee table, but when he gave me a quote for the rest of the furniture I wanted (a couch, a dresser, and a work table for the kitchen) it was about twice what I had been given for my total settling in allowance. The manager of the co-op said he'd talk to the board, and they are buying the remained of my furniture. They also think that I need a desk and chair, the vanity, cabinet, and chairs I got today, a gas cooker, and a tv.

(4) Rearranging the furniture after it was delivered. It was an exercise in Kenyan culture when the men brought in the furniture and then proceeded to discuss amongst themselves how to arrange it. I'm sort of particular about how my furniture is arranged, but I could tell that my opinion wasn't a factor in this decision; there is a very particular way in which Kenyan sitting rooms are set up, and the only debate was how to make sure the tv could reach the plug. Happily, the furniture isn't super heavy so once they left, I shuffled everything around until I was as satisfied as I could be, given the size of the room compared to the size of the furniture. It's starting to look like a real house!

(5) This Land Is My Land playing on the radio of a duka (shop) on my way home. (I also teared up a little at this one. I'm a little patriotic; it's the marching band history.)

(6) An afternoon thunderstorm, happiness amplified by getting home just before the skies opened up and poured the rains down in Africa... (that's for you, Krystle)

(7) Hot chocolate (with milk straight out of the cow) in my new mug. It's the simple things in life!

(8) The You Know You're From Fonda-Fultonville When... list on Facebook.

That's a lot of happiness in one day. I'd have been content with just one or two of those things, but like a lot of things with Peace Corps, it seems to be all or nothing. Miss you all!

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Another Week Down

I managed to get a few more pictures this week. This is the view from my front door. There is a cow in there; look for the black in between the brown fence and you've found her!

Here's the view of my front door. I was not thrilled to see this neighbor as I've heard they're pretty ornery, but this one is laid-back and keeps pretty much to himself.

And this road begins across the street from my house and just meanders for a while. It was so peaceful the day I decided to explore it.

Time is finally starting to move a little faster than the sluggish pace it’s been going, and I’m very relieved. Having spent an entire day at the annual meeting (see previous post), the other four days in the office were pretty easy to fill. I have been using some office time to go over the Kiswahili texts PC gave us to try to improve my vocab and understanding of the mechanics. What I really need is practice with people in the community, but even when I make the effort to initiate in Kiswahili, I still get English back. I could probably make more of an effort, though.

I’m still trying to research all of this coffee stuff to get it straight in my own head. I’ve been to three of the eight factories and seen all the equipment, but we’ve just finished the processing season so the most act

ual coffee I’ve seen is the bags of it waiting to go to the millers. The next steps for me are to go to the miller to see that process, to go see the auction in Nairobi in action, and to talk to a few contacts I’ve made about buyers and shipping. I enjoy being able to do things at my own pace and discretion, but it would be nice if I was receiving a little more direction from the management. I’m also working on some spreadsheets that I want to train the office staff to use. The management committee—all men around my dad’s age—are interested in learning basic computer skills as well, since they don’t even know how to turn one on. I guess I’ll be doing some teaching!

I’m grateful every day that I decided to bring my laptop, as my supervisor told me someone was “looking into getting one in Nairobi for me to use.” He told me this at the end of my first week, which I spend reading the newspaper and watching people work because I didn’t have anything else to do. Knowing the pace of progress here, I offered to just start bringing my laptop while we were waiting for that one. I bought a modem in Nairobi that just plugs into the laptop and dials up and uses pre-purchased credit. My supervisor offered to pay for the credit so I could use it for work, which is awesome. I’m happy to have my iTunes while I work, so it’s been good so far!

I spend a lot of time thinking about myself here. That may seem odd, given my job is to find ways to help my community and my business partner and generally be of service. But it’s sort of necessary to integrate into the culture here. It takes a lot of thinking about my own culture, and culture vs. personality, and interpersonal relationships to get settled here. PC did its best, for eight weeks of training, to start us thinking about these things, and now that I’m on my own, the thoughts never seem to stop.

For example, I am a pretty independent person. I am happy

to do things by myself. When I worked for Oakwood, I spend about 75% of my day alone and that was one of the things I enjoyed about the job. While I’m not antisocial, I’m content whether there are other people around or not. And occasionally, I need to be by myself. Here, I have plenty of time to be by myself. Any time I’m at my house I’m alone. At the co-op, I have my own office at the end of the row, so although I leave my door open and people pop in to say hello, I am usually by myself there as well. Walking through town is a solitary venture because I am usually coming from or going to my house. My supervisor at the co-op is a man with similar preferences for solitude, so if we

happen to be together, it’s very much like being alone. Some days I eat lunch with a co-worker. We always go to the same café to eat, so even in this short time it’s become routine, but we don’t have a lot to say to each other, so it’s generally pretty silent at our table. This is all very atypical for Kenya. This culture is extremely social and communal. While I’m not unhappy doing things by myself, I think that the people in town pity me when they see me by myself. And although they’ll call “Howareyou!?” across the street at me, none are daring enough to approach me to do anything about it.

In addition to the co-worker I eat lunch with, there are three other women at my co-op. The first weekend I was in town the one I eat with and another each invited me over for lunch, so I went with the first on Sat

urday and the other on Sunday. The one I visited on Sunday is close to my age and also lives alone. She moved to town when she took this job, so the rest of her family is not around. I was excited to have such an accessible potential friend, and excited that she introduced me to some of her friends as well. However, that was it on the friend front. On that Monday when I got to work it was as if we were just meeting for the first time, and has been every since. I’m not sure if I unknowingly did something to offend her, or if she just invited me over because she felt obligated, or what. I just know that I don’t have the energy, between all the other things I’m trying to handle, to work that out right now. The other women at the co-op have children and husbands and households to take care of in addition to their working a full-time job (incl

uding Saturday hours at the office), so they’re not readily available for friend-creating activities. As far as other mzungus, PC warned us that it’s much more fulfilling to find friends in the community than to rely on other PC Volunteers for socializing; I couldn’t even do that if I wanted to as the closest volunteer is over an hour matatu ride away. So it is up to me to take the initiative and strike out on my own to recruit friends.

Which I will do, but not yet. Having moved to new places enough times in the past to start to see trends, I know that I have to feel comfortable in my environment before I can be bold enough to socialize. I need to create a comfort zone before I can push myself to break out of it. And I can feel the progress; I’m getting there. One activity I enjoy doing by myself is sh

opping, but here shopping is very different and I have a limited disposable income. One of the things I have loved since I got to Kenya, though, is all of the second-hand t-shirts from America that are sold in the markets. Kenyans buy and wear these shirts, and I can only assume they have no clue what the shirts are advertising or commemorating or the places they have come from. I’ve seen everything from high school senior shirts (Class of ’05) to Hooters, to CATS London, to family reunions, to community sports teams to Race for the Cure Iowa shirts. My goal has been to find some really random ones to buy for myself when the ones I brought wear out. Today, for the first time, I stopped at a market stall to look through the selection. See, progress!

Even though this is turning into a very long post, I will mention my weekend, because it was good. On Saturday, three other volunteers and I met up at a current volunteer’s site. This volunteer has a full gas stove/oven combo, so the plan was to hang out and bake cookies. We got there mid-afternoon and spent a while catching up and discussing our sites. Everyone except the volunteer whose house we were at was in my training group, so we’re still feeling new to everything. We broke out the trusty PC Kenya cookbook and found a chocolate chip cookie recipe. Since there were five of us craving this comfort food, we doubled the recipe and did a little ingredient alteration to match what we had on hand, then got the first batch into the oven. About six dozen later we (and by we I mean I, as the others were lounging outside by the time the first batch finished baking) had plates heaping with good old homemade cookies. They were

phenomenal! Here is one of the volunteers with the finished product:

After we gorged ourselves on about half of them, our host got dinner going. He made bowtie pasta with red sauce. In the red sauce, he put tomato paste, tomatoes, onions, garlic, a chili pepper, green peppers, zucchini, some spices, and red wine. I am definitely inspired to start putting a little effort into my cooking. Even with all this fresh produce available (and cheap!), I’ve been sticking to the basics. This week I’m motivated to spend a little more time in the kitchen. I may even get the rest of my furniture this week, which will make it easier to use the kitchen because I’ll have a place to store things and a work surface, both of which I lack at the moment. But back to Saturday: I haven’t eaten so much in one day in a while, but between the cookies and the pasta, we had a feast and it was awesome. I also got to see the stars (only the second time to see a full night sky since I got to Kenya) and they blew me away.

By the time I make it to Friday, I will have been at site for an entire month. Definitely not one I’d want to have to repeat, but completely worth the experience. Miss you all!

Love me