Well, I’ve been here in Kenya for about 2 weeks now. About a week and half of that has been spent with a host family that includes a Mama (mom), Baba (dad), Kaka (brother) he’s 8, dada (sister) she’s 6 and a 15 year old cousin (baba’s niece) who seems to clean the house and take care of the kids for the most part but she also goes to school; so that’s cool.
Coming into the Host Family experience, I was a bit weary. They’d kind of bombarded us with all of this information about how we would be received by Kenyans in general. A couple of my biggest concerns were that apparently many Kenyans don’t believe that there are African “American’s” It is their belief that ALL “American’s” are white. This was a bit disconcerting; to say the least. At that point, I was convinced that my host family would lay there eyes on me, be convinced I was an imposter and my entire experience would be horrible. And of course, this was before I was told by my Country desk dude that they would see my dreadlocks as a sign of drug use. Definitely wasn’t off to too great of a start at that point. And I hadn’t even left the country yet!
Well, as they say, “Expect the worst; hope for the best.” I don’t know if I was hoping for the best, by any means but I was definitely expecting the worst. We arrived in Kitui, Kenya (about a 4 hour matatu (public van/car dealie) ride from Nairobi) on Sunday May 27th. And of course I forgot the little index card that had my host family name on it. So, while everyone else was meeting there host “mama’s” and “baba’s” I was standing around waiting for someone to find me a new index card. But fortunately I spotted my name and met my new “Mama”. Her name is Florence. She didn’t seem shocked that I was black; so that was a good sign. Also the first sign of the many things the Peace Corps had told us that were just plain wrong. I guess not necessarily wrong but they could have explained things a little better; lets just say a bit overly exaggerated. For example: Yes, it is true that many Kenyan’s don’t think African American’s exist but most of them live in wee tiny area’s. Though Kitui is a Rural area they do know of the existence of African American’s if not only for the fact that the Peace Corps has been training volunteers here for the past 5 years. Also, the existence of dreadlocks does not make one a drug user/dealer unless people are living about 20 years in the past. At least this is what I’ve learned from the locals.
I have, however come across an uneducated girl that did not believe I was from America. She asked me where I’d been before I was in America and I told her I was born there. She then asked where my parents came from and there parents and so forth and then we got to slavery and her only conclusion was that I was from West Africa. This was frustrating, to say the least and I guess I didn’t think that it would bother me as much as it did.
9:08 PM
My journaling was interrupted for a bucket bath. In the process I broke my mirror. The thing survived 2 trips all over France and even survived being in a checked bag to Kenya and now it decides to kick the bucket. Someone, please send me a good sized “shatter proof” hand mirror :-)…Guess that means 7 years bad luck for me. I knew I should have given it to Marcus today… I really don’t need 7 years of bad luck.
Okay, back to the previous topic…so apparently I’m not an “American” to some Kenyans. There doesn’t seem to be much learned about America in schools here but there isn’t much learned in the U.S. about Kenya either. I’ve also been mistaken for Kenyan on several different occasions. The older Mama’s in town will see me walking around and start talking to me in the local language “Kikomba”. I need to learn how to say in Kikomba that I don’t speak Kikomba.
It surprises me how much influence television has on the communities here. Most of them are without electricity but many have televisions that they hook up to generators. My Host Mama says she takes her generator into town and it costs her 40 shillings to get it charged; that’s about 28 cents to us…give or take. The charge lasts about a week; using it to watch television and listen to the radio. Oh!! and guess what we watched the first time they used the TV while I’ve been here….no, really, guess… ok I’ll tell you. Walker Texas Ranger!! Apparently they love that show here. It’s quite hilarious really. I could barely hold back my giggles when I realized what they were so excited about.
Yesterday we planted trees…well, I didn’t plant any trees because when we got to the tree planting site they told some of us to dig holes and others to cut this long bamboo looking grass, called napia. Well, apparently I’m allergic to napia grass. After cutting a few of them up I began to itch and break out it hives. So the Peace Corps Driver came and got me and took me to the Medical office where they told me to take a bucket bath and some benadryl. I then went home and my “Mama” wasn’t there so I was locked out; so I went across the road to Amy’s house where her dada (sister) Naomi, made me a bucket bath and some chips (French fries) for lunch. Oh, that reminds me…send ketchup! One of the greatest things about Kenyan culture is the hospitality; where else in the world could you knock on someone’s door that you barely know, feeling sickly and they take you in and make you chips and a bucket bath?!? Certainly, not anywhere in the U.S. that I know of. I’m glad I’m not an agricultural volunteer cause I’m pretty sure that napia stuff is all over the place here.
Alrightie; I’m sure there is lots more to tell and although it’s only 9:30 here I’m off to bed. I’m usually woken up by screaming children around 5:00am.
Lala salama (goodnight) to all.
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