*shoos us all into a time machine that takes us back to April 4th*
I prepared the house for my extended leave in such a way that it would make my mother AND grandmother proud! I dusted everything, cleaned the sinks, toilet, fridge, and I swept and mopped the entire house in addition to washing all the bedsheets for my 3 beds. I also weeded and hoed the entire garden, the little that I do have, and planted peas, beet roots, cauliflower, hot and sweet peppers, and tomatoes. The garden looked so clean that I actually felt as if my grandpa was looking over my shoulder, congratulating me. On April 8th, I finalized a few things around the house and garden and then took a long shower to scrape off all the muck and dirt I accumulated onto myself the past few days. I packed all that I would need for my three week rendevouz away from site and I snuck away to the Meru stage to meet up with Rohan, Mark, and Clare. The four of us went to Nairobi to stay the night before continuing our journey to Mombasa, on the coast.
I have learned that every time I go to Nairobi, there will always be at least two other PCVs. It's pretty awesome to meet Americans during my time in Kenya, whatever the reason I am in Nairobi for. It just so happens that there were 15 other PCVs in Nairobi the same night, some going to the Coast as well and others going to Uganda for white water rafting. Putting on our Volunteers' best, we headed over to Black Diamond, a club in Nairobi that attracts people from all across the board and plays decent music. Always a good night with fellow PCVs. I woke up at 5:30 the next morning and sleepily found my way to the Nairobi stage to board the Mash Poa bus for Mombasa. (The fact that I was following other people may have very well been the reason I made it to the 8:00 bus on time.)
Sidetracking to a funny story that occured while waiting to be boarded onto the bus. A Public Health Volunteer named Clare and I were just chatting near the rear of the bus when a Kenyan man came near and leaned onto a pole. I don't recall how it started but Clare and I found ourselves egging the Kenyan to demonstrate to us how to bend-over, backwards. It's actually from a song that is quite popular in Kenya these days and sounds like 'ben-ovah ben-ovah ben-ovah backwerds backwerds' in the Kenyan accent. Anyway, the man told us we should show him how to do it. We responded saying that we're Americans and therefore we don't know how to but we would gladly do it after his demonstration. Back and forth it went like that for a good 15 minutes before we boarded. Hilarious.
I'm so thankful Amanda and I decided to take that particular bus for the 8 hour ride. The bus was roomy and we could comfortably sleep most of the way. I definitely needed the sleep for Sir Angovah was putting sand in my eyes, or more like my stomach. The bus' swerves and bumps made my stomach lurch to a point where I seriously thought I was going to hurl. Luckily, that didn't happen. As the bus made its downward descent to Mombasa, the air started feeling thicker and definitely more hot. By mid-afternoon, I was cured and started to enjoy the sights. We arrived into Mombasa town at 3:30. We exited the bus and immediately boarded a tuktuk (a three-wheeled vehicle that functions much like a taxi) to get to the Mtwapa matatu stage. 100KSH, we paid, for a trip that was barely a quarter of a kilometer. Gr. We fell into a tourist trap. We brushed it off and boarded the matatu for Mtwapa, where we would stay with the amazing and kind-hearted Mary.
Let me tell you the little that I've heard about Mtwapa prior to my arrival. It's supposed to be the prostitute central of the Coast, and quite possibly all of Kenya. It's proximity to Mombasa and the Coast makes it a perfect trap for traveling mzungus. In my mind, I imagined a semi-urban area resting on the sands of the Indian Ocean with tight mini-skirts and jeans flashing by everywhere. Nothing could be further from the truth. Except for the prostitutes. I wasn't even seduced openly by anyone but that doesn't mean whomever I spoke with wasn't a prostitute. Travel weary, we dumped our bags into Mary's very western apartment that overlooked a sort of clearing. I spent some long stretches of time just gazing out onto that clearing, at the bustle of activity passing through ranging from piki pikis (motorcycles) zooming through to a groups of chicken and goats making their rounds for whatever substance they could scrounge up. Much to my dismay, I did not immediately dip my sore buttocks into the Indian Ocean. As is expected of me, I slept in Mary's balcony for the whole week while everyone else (Amanda, Mary, Shannon, Lee, Kristiann, and Anna) slept inside in the stifling heat.
Most of the days during the week we went to a school for the Deaf in Mombasa to watch the National Deaf Sports, where at least 20 different schools were in attendance. My own Kaaga School for the Deaf was, unfortunately, not in attendance due to the District Education Officer (DEO) stating there were insufficient funds. *coughs* It was interesting to interact with all the different Deaf children from all over Kenya. In the afternoons, Amanda and I went to visit Alan at his hotel or to Pirates' Beach to swim, AHH! Two afternoons, we went on an excursion in the town of Mombasa, including Old Town Mombasa. The spice market there was unbelievable – I bought 1kg of the best dates I've ever tasted in my life along with some tumeric and saffron (for 200KSH a gram!! = $2.50 – this usually goes for at least 8 dollars in the States per gram) I had three coconuts daily and my, my, their milky goodness was exactly what I needed. -.-
One story I absolutely must share with you. On the night of my birthday, most of us went out to bar-hop in Mtwapa. We danced and had a good time. When we got to the last bar, it was more of a lounge bar than anything and we had walked in on a show. There was a shirtless Kenyan man dancing to techno music. We started walking to a place that we could chill and watch the show. By the time we found a good spot to sit, the man had moved onto a burning stick show where he threw the stick around, licked it, rubbed it on his head and stuff like that. Rather suddenly, the show shifted to the man apprehensively looking at a wrapped up T-shirt. Once the man started touching it, loud rat-like squeals could be heard. The Kenyan proceeded to throw the shirt down, stomp, sit, jump, and punch the shirt. Pause. A peek, and the man was immediately looking in all directions as if the things that had been in the shirt escaped. One of the directions he looked at was towards Amanda and I. He nearly ran to a spot behind us where he comically bent over, thrust his bum high up in the air and swiveled his head side to side in search of the creature. His hands came up and his face revealed that he did not find anything. He began walking back to the stage but as soon as he passed me, standing, he turned around. So quickly did he turn around that I wasn't sure what had happened. The Kenyan man, from a culture that is conservative, had grabbed my balls and penis. After the initial shock wore off he let go of my balls, yanked my penis up as if it was the creature he had been searching for, and threw the imaginary creature back onto the stage. Then came the loudest squeal after he proceeded to squash it. I found myself laughing to the point where I almost couldn't breathe.
After a week in Mombasa, we headed back to Nairobi where we had our two-week long training. I'm so glad we had the training because it enabled us to get to know Nairobi so much better! During training, we learned a lot that will definitely help during the term.
(Sorry to clip off chunks of information from the last 3 weeks but quite frankly, the times were much too good to describe in words.)
I'm back at site, obviously, and the second term has started. Yesterday, to be exact. You can imagine my shock when I discovered that I only officially have 7 lessons, down from my 15 lessons in the first term. What had happened is that six teachers are here doing their practicums. Interesting way of doing things – sending teachers that aren't very skilled at the language that the children here use to teach for an entire term. I wash my hands. We'll see how this term goes. Maybe it's a godsend because I'm working hard to establish the much needed Deaf Education Committee (no, that's not our name.. we haven't decided on one yet.) and to possibly work with other Deaf organizations in Kenya on some projects.
Whoooo, quite a read for y'all.