Playing in the Mud

I forgot to write about house-building when the Belgians were here. We worked with three of our community groups to build three houses in three days for widows. The groups donated the timber for the house and did the labor while my organization, with the help of the donors, donated the iron sheets for the roofs. One of the groups was super organized and had people cooperating from the community in addition to group members.

The men dug holes and built the foundation/walls of the house with the wood. The women all donated food items (eggs, chickens, flour, etc) and cooked. They also fetched water for the cooking and to make the mud for the walls. Children were helping carry the lighter pieces of wood and the teenagers helped “make” the mud by digging up soil, pouring water and then stomping/jumping up and down barefoot to make mud. Once the men had finished creating a frame for the walls, then came the “women’s work,” which is building the walls. I got to help. I stood on the inside as another women passed me mud which we stacked in between the frame and used our hands/fingers to squish it down. It was like being a kid again, playing in the mud, except we were actually building something real. After the mud dries (usually a week later) they add more mud until the walls are 10 inches thick and then they can plaster of just leave it as it is. At the same time we were doing the walls, the men were building the structure for the roof. The house was done (well except the walls) and ready to be lived in by the end of the day. I absolutely loved helping and also seeing how well the community cooperated to build this widow a new house.

Speaking of mud, yesterday I had just been telling my counterparts how I was out of water, the tap near my house has been dry for a week or two, the tap in town was dry yesterday too, and it hadn't rained hard enough to get water recently, but then it started raining.It was POURING, I was able to collect 200 liters of water in 20 minutes. I got absolutely drenched running back and forth between my house and the gutters of our office. I'm sure I could have gotten another 10 liters after wringing out my clothes and probably another 15 liters from wringing out my hair. It was amazing timing, or what another volunteer, Sarah, and I call "mzungu magic." I have to say, I'm very lucky to be getting rain, Kenya is experiencing a very bad drought and i think I'm one of the few volunteers who has rain basically every day.

I have gotten my organization hooked on guacamole. They think it’s the best thing since sliced bread. ANYTIME we have some sort of lunch or get-together they ask “are you making guacamole?” I made burritos for them last week and they went over very well. The ladies love cooking and run a catering service outside the group so they wanted to know about American dishes. I told them the only real “American” food is a hamburger so they want to make them sometime. Although I’m not looking forward to grinding the meat by hand, they want to try it.

On Fridays we’ve been contributing and taking turn cooking lunch. I gave the two guys in our organization a hard time because they didn’t want to cook or wash dishes because that’s “women’s work.” After I teased them for a week about them being lazy they gave in and cooked a pretty tasty lunch. They asked me if I still thought they were lazy after they cooked. I told them yes, because it’d be understandable for them not to cook if they didn’t know how, but obviously they do know how, making them lazy. Haha. Slowly, I am working on changing gender roles…

My supervisor’s mother passed away last week. Because my organization works a lot like a family we’ve been doing a lot to organize the funeral, which will take place this weekend. The day after she passed away, we went with Sophie, my supervisor, and some other of her friends to the mortuary. They had the body in a large refrigerator-type chamber with other bodies on bunk bed-type furniture. They were labeled on their foreheads with masking tape. Sophie went to see the body and then we went back to the reception room and everyone started singing to comfort Sophie. It was very intense and sad at the same time. People here sing when really happy or sad, and it’s just interesting to see that as soon as one person starts, everyone joins in, they all know the words and it’s in perfect harmony. It’s like something out of a movie.

Last Friday I was in the market, which was very crowded. I was wearing my backpack and some guy “bumped” into me and then I felt my bag was lighter. I looked and one of my pockets was unzipped and my bag of medical supplies was gone. I was angry, but also relieved that he didn’t steal anything really important. I would have liked to see his face when he realized all he got was an inhaler, tampons, some anti-malarials, bandaids, Tylenol, and pepto pills. But, because I’m me, I only carry half my supplies with me, and have the other half at my house. Therefore, I only really lost out on the inhaler and the Peace Corps will give me a new one.

My loneliness has started to hit me. I only see my coworkers during the day on weekdays, otherwise I’m alone. I don’t have any friends, which makes me sad. It’s not as easy as in Argentina. And, I haven’t been able to meet up with other volunteers recently. So, on Saturday, I was feeling this way and instead of just sitting at home, I decided to go to Kisii to visit one of my bestest friends, CHEESE. Yes, I traveled 40 minutes just to get cheese. It made me feel better and I had a pretty hilarious encounter on the matatu ride back that made it worth it.

I jumped in a matatu at the station to leave Kisii not realizing its name was “Terror Squad.” Each matatu has a name and I’ve started writing down the funny ones. For some reason I felt a little scared riding in one called “Terror Squad,” but it was too late I had already paid. So, matatus don’t leave at any specific time, just once they are filled up, which can sometimes take a long time.

I was in the front seat and there are always people trying to sell things (sodas, bottled water, cookies, carrots, watches, wallets, socks, anything you can imagine) through the matatu windows. One guy was trying to sell CDs so he started singing some of the songs on it to me, haha. I told him I didn’t want any. Then, another guy is standing in the window next to him trying to sell me soda. The 1st told the 2nd guy he should speak English to me. The 2nd guy was trying to say he doesn’t know a lot, he kept saying in English “I am almost speaking, almost.” Haha. The 1st guy tried to shoo him away because he wanted to talk to me. He asked my name, I told him, and he told me his name was Dan. Then, he asked when I would come back to Kisii, I said I didn’t know. He asked for my phone number, I told him my phone was just for work so I can’t give out my number. So he told me to take down his number. I told him I didn’t have a pen or paper so he had me memorize it. He would say a few of the numbers and then make me repeat it. Everyone in the matatu, along with me, was cracking up. Dan told me to come back to Kisii and he’d buy me a soda. Then the other vendors were coming to the door to sell things and he told them my name, that I was a “beautiful lady” and that I was coming back to drink a soda with him. Haha.

The volunteer who lives a few towns over has been away but she came back this weekend. So, I went to visit her the other day. We just hung out, cooked and watched Kathy Griffin stand-up. It made me feel less lonely, thankfully. I also have plans to see some of the other volunteers soon too, so things should get better. Other than the feeling alone thing, everything else is going well.

Also, a clarification: when I say "counterpart" I mean coworker. Peace Corps assigns us a kenyan counterpart to work with us and help us integrate into our communities. In my case, I work with a team of 5 people in a community-based organization so I just call them all my counterparts.