i knew this was going to be troublesome for me. i'm just going to vent my frustrations and not pretend like this is something isolated to kenya. this happens in america, too. undoubtedly world-over. this is an overall response to my complete misunderstanding of lying to young women when they need accurate information.
i get it. i'm in a country (and a rural, poor part of this country at that) where HIV/AIDS is a real problem and young girls getting pregnant creates amazing financial strains on themselves and their future children that i can't even begin to imagine. contraceptives aren't widely available, abortion completely illegal, and women's ability to advocate for condom use - or at least i've heard, i shouldn't/can't speak to this personally - relatively low. so, yeah, sure i'll let go of my "liberal" ideas that young women should get the whole story and just suffice it to say "don't do it, at all, it's not worth it". i get it.
i don't get telling these girls that if they are blessed god will protect them from being raped, with absolutely NO mention of the fact that if you are raped, there is a drug you can get at the government clinic, PEP - post-exposure prophylaxis - that significantly decreases your chance of contracting HIV if taken in a sufficient amount of time. i don't get telling them that the morning-after pill causes infertility, that condoms aren't even 70 per cent effective, that if you get pregnant and HIV your child has a 99 per cent chance of being born HIV positive, and that getting pregnant young leads to cervical cancer. these are all, to the extent of my knowledge completely untrue. if i'm wrong, let me know. the worst part was just the re-iteration that your life is completely over if you get pregnant (but under NO circumstances should you seek out abortion). how often does this lead to self-fullfilling prophecies? oh, im pregnant, my life is over. why should i try anymore? why should i aspire to do the things i dreamed of doing? again, i don't know and can't comprehend the challenges these girls would face getting pregnant, but why the extreme scare tactics? the fact is that young women are going to have sex. this was obvious in the types of questions asked in the question and answer session. one girl asked what should she do if she gets pregnant. the answer? don't get pregnant. hmm... helpful.
Sunday, June 13, 2010
Saturday, June 12, 2010
hakuna matatu
another post about the matatu. i could go on for days. i've had a huge bag of potatoes fall on me, sat with my legs propped over a bag of beans, had a ten year old boy on my lap, and a man's armpit literally on my head.
the other day we got kicked off before getting to our destination because not enough people were going there. awesome. when we were taking the younger kids to the clinic, we were kicked off because they weren't running anymore; there were too many police officers on the streets "ensuring" they meet safety standards. these things never meet safety standards. i have no idea how old these machines are, and they are only supposed to hold 14 passengers - it says so on the side of this ramshackle bus, and there are only 14 seats - but very rarely do they run with only 14 people on them. i found this slightly confusing, only because i've been on many a matatu that got pulled to the side of the road by the police and then took off without much conversation or any kind of ticket or anything. i later learned and then noticed that the driver hands the officer money, basically bribes the police officer not to ticket them. this is very common and also not a big deal. eric explained this to me as if it was as common as anything, and then he asked if we had this in america.
the other day we got kicked off before getting to our destination because not enough people were going there. awesome. when we were taking the younger kids to the clinic, we were kicked off because they weren't running anymore; there were too many police officers on the streets "ensuring" they meet safety standards. these things never meet safety standards. i have no idea how old these machines are, and they are only supposed to hold 14 passengers - it says so on the side of this ramshackle bus, and there are only 14 seats - but very rarely do they run with only 14 people on them. i found this slightly confusing, only because i've been on many a matatu that got pulled to the side of the road by the police and then took off without much conversation or any kind of ticket or anything. i later learned and then noticed that the driver hands the officer money, basically bribes the police officer not to ticket them. this is very common and also not a big deal. eric explained this to me as if it was as common as anything, and then he asked if we had this in america.
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
is that man selling hankerchiefs?
I spent Saturday and Sunday in Thikatown, with two other volunteers - Emily and Rory - as a get away from the orphanage. It's no big city, and certainly not a tourist spot, but we got "western-style" bathrooms consisting of a spigot dripping water from above and a toilet (with a seat!) that almost flushed. Pure heaven. They also have a superstore called Tusky's where the items actually have prices on them and you can find just about anything (except Coke Lite, or beer).
In going to bars and restaurants I realized that when all the tables are in use, new people coming in just sit at open chairs at tables with people who they don't know. My first encounter with this was when we walked into a bar and couldn't find a table. A waiter helped us out, and told us to sit at a table where a man and a woman were already sitting. I felt awkward anyhow, being stared down as the only mzungus in the place, but even worse, as we were imposing on their seemingly intimate space. It was no big deal though, and when I paid closer attention at restaurants we ate at, I noticed that new people coming in would just plop down at tables with open seats, even though people were already there eating.
The matatu is always an experience. Every single time. It's interesting because they don't have schedules, but whenever you need one, you go wait at a stop and one will come. I've never waited longer than five minutes for one to come by. This lack of schedule simultaneously means that they don't depart at a specific time, just when the matatu is filled to the max. The bus leaves when enough people are on it. This can equate sitting in the matatu sweating my butt off and waiting while person after person climbs in. This is also a perfect time for street vendors to attempt to sell a variety of items to you: fruits, peanuts, sausages, crackers, cookies, jewelry, handkerchiefs, music... Anyhow, I have no idea how people possibly get to work on time. Though I should know better, "on time" doesn't really exist here.
I've done field work all week. WONDERFUL. It's starting to get "colder", which means I need to wear a hoodie when the sun goes down at 6:45 PM and in the morning. Apparently though, this is the coldest time of year (though I would argue that the weather is tolerable now). I don't have much else to report, except that I finally know almost all the children's names, and no longer hate the meal of beans, maize (not the corn I know from home), and pumpkin. I think I'm just mostly food-deprived. I'm also planning a mini-vay-cay to Mombasa in a couple weeks, and I'm very excited about that. THE COAST!
In going to bars and restaurants I realized that when all the tables are in use, new people coming in just sit at open chairs at tables with people who they don't know. My first encounter with this was when we walked into a bar and couldn't find a table. A waiter helped us out, and told us to sit at a table where a man and a woman were already sitting. I felt awkward anyhow, being stared down as the only mzungus in the place, but even worse, as we were imposing on their seemingly intimate space. It was no big deal though, and when I paid closer attention at restaurants we ate at, I noticed that new people coming in would just plop down at tables with open seats, even though people were already there eating.
The matatu is always an experience. Every single time. It's interesting because they don't have schedules, but whenever you need one, you go wait at a stop and one will come. I've never waited longer than five minutes for one to come by. This lack of schedule simultaneously means that they don't depart at a specific time, just when the matatu is filled to the max. The bus leaves when enough people are on it. This can equate sitting in the matatu sweating my butt off and waiting while person after person climbs in. This is also a perfect time for street vendors to attempt to sell a variety of items to you: fruits, peanuts, sausages, crackers, cookies, jewelry, handkerchiefs, music... Anyhow, I have no idea how people possibly get to work on time. Though I should know better, "on time" doesn't really exist here.
I've done field work all week. WONDERFUL. It's starting to get "colder", which means I need to wear a hoodie when the sun goes down at 6:45 PM and in the morning. Apparently though, this is the coldest time of year (though I would argue that the weather is tolerable now). I don't have much else to report, except that I finally know almost all the children's names, and no longer hate the meal of beans, maize (not the corn I know from home), and pumpkin. I think I'm just mostly food-deprived. I'm also planning a mini-vay-cay to Mombasa in a couple weeks, and I'm very excited about that. THE COAST!
Friday, June 4, 2010
not tan, just dirty
so turns out all the blood work that the children had done, no one at the clinic can interpret the results. what? how does that even make sense? why administer a test that you can't understand the results of? has this never presented a problem before? so now they have to be sent to another doctor. this hitch was not mentioned when we set up these tests, only when we started to ask questions.
today i helped in the pharmacy at the government clinic (not the aforementioned clinic, which is a private, catholic institution). the patients just come to the pharmacist with their prescriptions and they are filled, at absolutely no charge. they don't have a lot of different types medication, aside from anti-malarials, dewormers, the medicine i was given - an antihistimine of sorts, an anti-psychotic, and vitamin A, so what isn't in stock or they havent received from the ministry of health has to be purchased at a private pharmacy. they also give out certain drugs for many different ailments. i learned that what i had been given for my allergic reaction is also given for fevers, headaches and colds. once again though, everything was recorded in these large register books. the lack of computers here is pretty astonishing, especially in the health care setting. the pharmacist asked how our government dealt with de-worming, as people need to take a de-wormer every three to six months. i had to explain to him that i had never, in all my life taken a de-wormer, and also that the government would have little involvement in that process.
the overall lack of conveniences here is so interesting. trying to explain to Jane, the laundry woman, who individually hand washes each piece of clothing, like seriously scrubbing (times 32 children with school uniforms!), rinses and hangs them to dry (sometimes on the barbed wire fence, which really gets me), that at home i put my dirty clothes into a machine, push a button, go do something else, come back later, move those clothes into a different machine, push another button and go do something else and when i come back my clothes are clean and dry was almost absurd. i really reflected on how much easier life is at home. washing dishes in a sink with running water, or even a dishwasher, cutting grass with lawn mowers (i daily see people on the side of the road with machetes, cutting away), and compiling information on computers (i have yet to see one computer at any clinic or school i have visited) are all luxuries that i easily take for granted. the one peice of convenience that is not lost on this country is cell phones. everyone has a cell phone. even people who dont have electricity to charge them can go to many a store and pay to charge their phones. we visited a local community based organization that provides free home based care to individuals in the area with HIV and also counseling to children who have lost their parents to HIV, and a woman who worked there, before we left, wanted to do a prayer. mid-way through her prayer her cell phone started ringing. she did not silence it or answer it, just kept on with the prayer, while her phone was ringing the whole time. and no one flinched. afterward "amen" she answered it and it was no big deal. when i sat in the consultation room with the doctor at the makuyu clinic a patient's phone started ringing and he answered it! while visiting the doctor for his cough! people just talk on cell phones anywhere and everywhere. there don't seem to be many social taboos surrounding it.
oh yay. im hungry and should try to find some food that isn't rice and beans or ugali and beans or maize and beans.
today i helped in the pharmacy at the government clinic (not the aforementioned clinic, which is a private, catholic institution). the patients just come to the pharmacist with their prescriptions and they are filled, at absolutely no charge. they don't have a lot of different types medication, aside from anti-malarials, dewormers, the medicine i was given - an antihistimine of sorts, an anti-psychotic, and vitamin A, so what isn't in stock or they havent received from the ministry of health has to be purchased at a private pharmacy. they also give out certain drugs for many different ailments. i learned that what i had been given for my allergic reaction is also given for fevers, headaches and colds. once again though, everything was recorded in these large register books. the lack of computers here is pretty astonishing, especially in the health care setting. the pharmacist asked how our government dealt with de-worming, as people need to take a de-wormer every three to six months. i had to explain to him that i had never, in all my life taken a de-wormer, and also that the government would have little involvement in that process.
the overall lack of conveniences here is so interesting. trying to explain to Jane, the laundry woman, who individually hand washes each piece of clothing, like seriously scrubbing (times 32 children with school uniforms!), rinses and hangs them to dry (sometimes on the barbed wire fence, which really gets me), that at home i put my dirty clothes into a machine, push a button, go do something else, come back later, move those clothes into a different machine, push another button and go do something else and when i come back my clothes are clean and dry was almost absurd. i really reflected on how much easier life is at home. washing dishes in a sink with running water, or even a dishwasher, cutting grass with lawn mowers (i daily see people on the side of the road with machetes, cutting away), and compiling information on computers (i have yet to see one computer at any clinic or school i have visited) are all luxuries that i easily take for granted. the one peice of convenience that is not lost on this country is cell phones. everyone has a cell phone. even people who dont have electricity to charge them can go to many a store and pay to charge their phones. we visited a local community based organization that provides free home based care to individuals in the area with HIV and also counseling to children who have lost their parents to HIV, and a woman who worked there, before we left, wanted to do a prayer. mid-way through her prayer her cell phone started ringing. she did not silence it or answer it, just kept on with the prayer, while her phone was ringing the whole time. and no one flinched. afterward "amen" she answered it and it was no big deal. when i sat in the consultation room with the doctor at the makuyu clinic a patient's phone started ringing and he answered it! while visiting the doctor for his cough! people just talk on cell phones anywhere and everywhere. there don't seem to be many social taboos surrounding it.
oh yay. im hungry and should try to find some food that isn't rice and beans or ugali and beans or maize and beans.
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
mzungu can't dance
Well, I've been doing a lot of field work. We visited schools to pay the examination fees for sponsored children, and I learned that with the way the Ministry of Education distributes funds, teachers will work sometimes for six months without getting paid. Can you imagine?
Today we took the 9 older kids to the clinic nearby to get them health check-ups. This was coordinated and funded by the volunteers, so go us. Tomorrow we are taking the 24 smaller kids and I'm just preparing for disaster. Getting them there on the matatu, calming them down when they get blood taken, helping them poo-poo in cups, herding them together, oh my.
Yesterday was Kenya's independence day, and aside from the fact that the children didn't have school and we got chapati for lunch (YAY! YUM!) there wasn't much else going on to celebrate. We watched the President give his speech on the TV and heard it on the radio. THis was in Nairobi, but I guess locally, people don't do much to celebrate. Kenya gained it's independence in 1963. But anyhow, despite the holiday the orphanage ran as it usually does, meaning Jane was there doing all the laundry, and Joseph was taking care of the pigs and cows and the farm, And Jane was cleaning the dorms, and Grace was there preparing our three daily meals. It's quite crazy because we always have to eat, right? And Grace is always there cooking all the meals. I mean, she doesn't get a day off during the week, and she really does work ALL DAY. I don't know how it works when she wants time off, but I've been here for three weeks now and she has cooked every single meal that I've eaten. Working three straight weeks!
I'm getting pretty used to the Kenyan way of life though. Mostly just taking things slowly and being patient and not always having a lot to do. I know I'll miss it when I'm back at home and always so rushed to do everything all the time. I get really annoyed sometimes at being such a spectacle (you would think some of these people have NEVER seen a white person, and maybe they haven't), but when we got to schools I feel like a rockstar, all these children will surround us and try to touch me and my hair, and even when we are out in the small towns at the market or getting a soda pop, people just stare and the children are forever practicing their English saying "how are you?!" but not knowing how to respond when you ask them back. It's cute, and I know something I'll miss when I'm back home and just another white girl.
We climbed this mountain, Ol Donya Sabuk Sunday under the impression that at the summit would be a beautiful 360 view of Kenya. So we hiked the 9 kilometers to the top, halfway dying at some parts thinking "but we have to get to the top, it'll be amazing" and even further up just thinking "we are so close, ahhh, my legs want to die, but the view, it will be awesome." When we arrived at the top we were quite confused, as there was absolutely NO VIEW at all, just a bunch of radio towers (shout out to MECA). All we could do was laugh, hysterically, and try to be positive, even though we spent too much money for entrance and an armed guard (supposedly there are a bunch of buffalo there, but I didn't see any). We are also writing a letter to the writers of the Lonely Planet who lied and led us to believe we were in for a real treat at the top.
Well, thanks for reading if you are. I want to get a Coca-Cola Light (no Diet Coke here) and buy some mango so better be heading on.
Today we took the 9 older kids to the clinic nearby to get them health check-ups. This was coordinated and funded by the volunteers, so go us. Tomorrow we are taking the 24 smaller kids and I'm just preparing for disaster. Getting them there on the matatu, calming them down when they get blood taken, helping them poo-poo in cups, herding them together, oh my.
Yesterday was Kenya's independence day, and aside from the fact that the children didn't have school and we got chapati for lunch (YAY! YUM!) there wasn't much else going on to celebrate. We watched the President give his speech on the TV and heard it on the radio. THis was in Nairobi, but I guess locally, people don't do much to celebrate. Kenya gained it's independence in 1963. But anyhow, despite the holiday the orphanage ran as it usually does, meaning Jane was there doing all the laundry, and Joseph was taking care of the pigs and cows and the farm, And Jane was cleaning the dorms, and Grace was there preparing our three daily meals. It's quite crazy because we always have to eat, right? And Grace is always there cooking all the meals. I mean, she doesn't get a day off during the week, and she really does work ALL DAY. I don't know how it works when she wants time off, but I've been here for three weeks now and she has cooked every single meal that I've eaten. Working three straight weeks!
I'm getting pretty used to the Kenyan way of life though. Mostly just taking things slowly and being patient and not always having a lot to do. I know I'll miss it when I'm back at home and always so rushed to do everything all the time. I get really annoyed sometimes at being such a spectacle (you would think some of these people have NEVER seen a white person, and maybe they haven't), but when we got to schools I feel like a rockstar, all these children will surround us and try to touch me and my hair, and even when we are out in the small towns at the market or getting a soda pop, people just stare and the children are forever practicing their English saying "how are you?!" but not knowing how to respond when you ask them back. It's cute, and I know something I'll miss when I'm back home and just another white girl.
We climbed this mountain, Ol Donya Sabuk Sunday under the impression that at the summit would be a beautiful 360 view of Kenya. So we hiked the 9 kilometers to the top, halfway dying at some parts thinking "but we have to get to the top, it'll be amazing" and even further up just thinking "we are so close, ahhh, my legs want to die, but the view, it will be awesome." When we arrived at the top we were quite confused, as there was absolutely NO VIEW at all, just a bunch of radio towers (shout out to MECA). All we could do was laugh, hysterically, and try to be positive, even though we spent too much money for entrance and an armed guard (supposedly there are a bunch of buffalo there, but I didn't see any). We are also writing a letter to the writers of the Lonely Planet who lied and led us to believe we were in for a real treat at the top.
Well, thanks for reading if you are. I want to get a Coca-Cola Light (no Diet Coke here) and buy some mango so better be heading on.
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