Tidbits

Of all things, you wouldn't imagine that not washing your hands or eating food would matter. If anything, you'd be known for having bad hygiene and being fat. But doing those two things have earned me respect at Care Highway. Why? Because other whites who volunteered, mostly Europeans, brought their own food and washed their hands after shaking the kids' hands. The head teacher, Emily, said it's nice to see a white person "without pride."

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Being white in Kenya lets me feel like a celebrity and a woman. Let me explain. Whenever I walk around, Kenyans constantly say hey white man, or hey mzungo. I sometimes wave back and I sometimes ignore them, but I can never walk anonymously. I'm always called for, always bothered. Just as most celebrities would say, it has its pros and cons.

And like a woman, or at least an attractive one, white people get lots of attention. You are treated differently and offered lots and lots of stuff. And the dilemmas come. To take advantage or not, that is the question...

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Relative to Kibera, Kyle and I live well. Our electricity is generally reliable, we have a (somewhat, if you want to call it that) functioning toilet, a readily available supply of water, etc. Compared to what we are accustomed to in the states, we, of course, live poorly. Every marginal improvement to our standard of living makes a big difference. Let me give you an example. Up until a week ago, the road to our apartment complex was full of dirt. Whenever it rained, the road would be muddy for days. Your shoes, your socks, your pants---they'd all get dirty and gross. And they'd get dirty and gross after much effort of traversing the mud; a straightforward walk would ruin your clothing. A week ago the apartment complex installed rocks. Now, you can avoid getting muddied by jumping from rock to rock. Would a rocky road be acceptable back home? Absolutely not. But I appreciate the rocks so so so much here. It makes my life easier and better and less stressful. It makes all of the NYC complaints about delayed snow removal seem silly and foolish. All of this made me understand how big of a difference Kyle made installing two toilets in another Kenya slum, Mathare. Before he installed them, most people defecated in the river or on trash. For two pennies a day (even they can afford that), they have the privacy of a real toilet. I now understand why so many people came up to Kyle thanking him, praising him for the work he did. What seems like a small act, installing a basic toilet, is actually an enormous act of love and compassion. May those like Kyle continue to do what they do.

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Benches, God I miss a good bench. Never thought I'd think that, much less write that, but take advantage of your benches in the states! They are a rare thing in Nairobi, and when you find them, they are crowded and uncomfortable. Thoughts of which I am proudest were born on benches. I guess I'll be full of clichés until I come back home...