Nyama Choma

Ryan has decided he's on a quest to find food poisoning so we've been visiting the dodgiest(?) road side stalls looking for diarrhoea. The food here is interesting. Contrary to popular belief I haven't actually lost any weight yet - I was told before I came that I would lose a lot of weight cos the food here is low in calories :) They eat a shitload of meat around here, mostly beef, chicken and goat. A lot of goat. I guess it's only logical cos there are goats everywhere. The meat is marinated in salt and stuff and then they throw it on an open coal bbq. This is eaten with either chapati (the indian influence I suspect) or ugali. Ugali is a hard to describe, it's like a starchy thing. Its like polenta I guess, with no added spices or salt or anything, just maize flour and water. I don't mind ugali too much, it's a little bland and heavy but it's ok. They also have whats called kienyeji, which is like mashed potato, with some green vegetable mixed in and bits of maize. This is kienyeji:

Yummy! That's Brad (a pilot friend of Ryan's from NZ) with some lovely fluoro green Kienyeji. It tastes better than in looks.

This is a Nyama Choma meal we had at a local road side stall:

You basically get the meat on a chopping board, a knife, some small piles of rock salt and your ugali, chapati and kienyeji, and you're just all supposed to dig in.

In town though, there are endless streets lined with places selling Chicken and Chips, Fish and Chips, Sausages and Chips - basically anything with chips, which I initially thought was a bit strange. Bloody Poms and their colonization...

On Saturday Ryan, Zelalem and I went for a drive to Mt. Kenya. We ended up getting side tracked and went to a place called Castle Forest Lodge which is in the direction of Mt. Kenya but is in a place so secluded, it's actually quiet - which is a really strange in a country like Kenya.

It never ceases to amaze me how quickly the scenery changes around here. You only need to drive for one hour for the endless barren fields of dirt to turn into lush tropical surroundings.

The whole three hour drive there and back we were greeted with constant squeals of "Mzungu! Mzungu! Jambo Mzungu!" (mzungu = white man). The poor village kids probably didn't know what hit them - a Rasta guy driving the car, a white guy in the front seat and an Asian chick in the back. We got so many waves, and kids chased the car every now and then - I felt like the queen.

I then spent 12 hours on the overnight bus service from Nairobi to Jinja in Uganda which is famous as it's the source of the Nile. What a wonderful way to spend a Saturday night! Ryan and Zelalem insisted on dropping me to the bus station as it's in a really dodgy area of Nairobi called River Rd. It was a surreal experience. After we pulled out of the city the lights in the bus went out and everyone fell asleep despite the fact that it was only 8pm and the radio was on full blast. Even when we lost radio reception the driver didn't turn it down so we spent most of the ride with this loud disturbance in the background.

Thankfully, this was drowned out by the bus slowly and noisily falling apart as we bumped along a shocking road with potholes everywhere. It was so bad my teeth were chattering in my head and my glasses were bouncing on the bridge of my nose. That stretch of bad road lasted about 4 hours. We stopped at a number of small ghost towns along the way and everyone got out or random people would get on. I'll admit I was freaked out and regretted the day I thought getting the night bus was a good idea.

We reached the border about 3am and I made friends with a chick called Ayoh who was going to Kampala (the capital of Uganda - about two hours further than Jinja). Immigration was the most ridiculous process I have ever experience. We had to line up on the Kenyan side in the rain and get our passports stamped. Of course 7 other buses arrived at the same time we did so there were people everywhere... Then we had to walk 300 metres over the border to Uganda and once again line up there to get our passports stamped to enter their country. In this line we had to fend off people pretending to be officials and asking to see our passprts and dudes in labcoats offering to change money. Thank god Ayoh was with me...

Then we had to wait for our bus to get checked by officials for contraband or taxable items (goats and chickens and stuff) and then wait for the bus to pass thru the gate and drive the 300 metres to where we were waiting. This whole process took about 3 hours. I'm not joking. And we all had to stand out in the rain while this happened. I was so wet and muddy by the time we got back on the bus and headed into Uganda...

Mtoto

So things are sailing along quite nicely.

Ryan sat his exam the other day (to get a licence to fly in Kenya) and met a Kenyan guy called Jamie who invited us to go paragliding in Maasai land with him and his friends. We all got up bright and early, ready to glide and camp in Maasai territory, but unfortunately the weather was terrible and Jamie cancelled. So instead Ryan, Zelalem and I went to Lake Naivasha.

Lake Naivasha is about 2 hours drive north-west of Nairobi. On the way there you pass by the Great Rift Valley which looks like this:





It's a breaktaking expanse of desert and mountain ranges...Unbelieveable.

We reached Naivasha and found this cute little place called "Drifters - Floating Restaurant" for lunch.

The lake is gorgeous and has lots of hippos in it apparently.

The next day I went with a guy from the hostel called Rene to Nairobi National Park. We saw a lot of zebras, ostriches, buffaloes, gazelles and giraffes. We also managed to see two lionesses and a lion, but we were pretty far away so my camera didn't really capture what we saw.

Tuesday was a public holiday for Iid (I think that's how you spell it) so I caught up with Mr. Ekesa for lunch - Betty's father, who's place I will be staying at in Mumias. He took me to an Ostrich Farm in Maasai land - a place called Kitengela. Check out these baby ostriches, they're only a week old.

Then we had ostrich for lunch. I actually ate ostrich. The guy informed me that they're slaughtered at the age of 8 mths - they taste the best then. It wasn't bad...it tasted like chicken.

On the way home I took pictures of random Maasai women and children walking along the side of the road. I hope that wasn't rude... They're so beautiful.

That night I had a few drinks with Reena at a bar called Gipsy's. It's in a place called Westlands which is apparently the Asian hangout. Reena is my mum's friend's daughter and she works for the UN as the assistant to the Secretary-General in Africa. She deals mainly with matters concerning Somalia and has to fly there pretty often. She is really good fun.

On Wednesday I went with Martin and "big" Joshua to the Ebenezer Children's Home. It was funny, a bunch of children stood around and stared at me and I couldn't really say much to them beyond "Jambo" "Habari" etc... so instead I took a picture of them and showed it to them. Boy, did that break the ice. Pretty soon I was the most popular person there and everyone wanted their picture taken...



The kid on the right is Kippy - he's my favourite :)







They're all trying to be homies...
They showed me how to do a dance...

Other than that I haven't really been up to much.

I went to the Giraffe Sanctuary today and kissed a giraffe - that was hot.

I'm leaving for Jinja tomorrow in Uganda to do some white water rafting at the source of the Nile, and then I'm heading to Mumias, where the EWB potential project is. I'll base myself there and do a bit of travelling around the north west of the country.

Exciting times!

Sawa, Sawa

There was so much drama with the placement at the hospital and so, in true African style I got stood up by the Director of the hospital time and time again and it looked like I would never get the stupid letter I needed to be able to follow a few doctors around for a couple of days.

The night I got stood up by the Director, a guy in a conversation next to me mentioned the Engineers without Borders and obviously my ears pricked up :) Alberto is an ultrasonographer from Italy and his friend is an engineer from Ireland. They're here to kickstart a free ultrasound clinic and teaching centre here in Kibera - the second largest slum in the world. They managed to get a machine donated, and space in Kibera, plus a guy here to look after it when they leave. I told them my woes about my placement potentially falling through, and Alberto invited me to hang out at the clinic and offered to teach me how to do proper O&G ultrasounds.

I must admit I was a little scared to venture into Kibera. I've heard so much about the place from locals... But it really wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. I got stared at, a LOT, but I'm kinda getting used to that around this place. Here are a few pics:

This is just a small portion of the slum - the place is HUGE.

How cute is this little girl...

So I spent two days at the clinic in Kibera, which was great. On day 3 I finally managed to get the Golden ticket which would allow me to hang out at the hospital.

On day 1I hung out in the Labour ward - didn't get to deliver any babies, but assisted in a couple of C-sections, and examined lots of tummies, which was good. I mainly hung out with the Obs Intern, Peter, who was so helpful and so sweet, I fell a little bit in love with him. The Obs Reg who was doing the C-sections looked exactly like Bailey from Grey's Anatomy. That was weird...

I ended up hanging out there till 9. Can you believe it! I've never stayed at hospital till 9 at home...

Day 2 was Gynae day. After the ward round in the morning, through a ward that smelt like a mix between urine and period blood, I hung out in Gynae Casualty and practiced my PV's and speculum skills. About halfway through the day, the Gynae reg had to do what they called MVA's. Now, I had no idea what an MVA was, so I naively went into the treatment room. I kept running through all the possiblities in my head as to what MVA could stand for - MixedVaginal Assessment, Major Vaginal Adventure... It turns out it stands for Manual Vaginal Abortion. An MVA is performed when there is a natural abortion and the os is open. I saw my first few abortions and they were not pretty. It wasn't the standard D&C as you'd expect, it was some other crazy shit man. Think a fat ass syringe, a vacuum, a really big catheter in the os, no pain relief and huge clots everywhere... Nothing in medicine has every made me feel uncomfortable like that did.

Nothing a stiff drink couldn't fix though, and I had my first experience of Zappa with a few people back at the campsite.

Kenyatta National Hospital is actually a lot nicer than I expected it to be. I had heard a lot of stories about the place, dead bodies lieing in the corner, and all that. The only complaints I have are the lack of respect for patients dignity. Being in a developing country, it becomes standard that it's the doctors' right to examine the patients without really asking them, or making sure people aren't waltzing in and out of the room. Which really doesn't sit right with me. Just because you're providing a service and the patients really have no where else to go doesn't make it ok to do a PV examination with 6 other randoms in the room.

On Thursday night I went out to a Jazz club called Soho with a few mates. Lucy is a Dutch girl and is currently working around East Africa as a tour guide for a Dutch tour company. Zelalam is an Ethiopian refugee who came to Kenya when he was 12 or so. He lives in Nairobi but is currently between houses so is staying at Upperhill. Ryan is from the US and he's an ex-marine, who spent the last year in China as a flight teacher. He decided he was over being a marine and wanted to use his skills to help civilians. He's in Nairobi and trying to look for a job with companies that need pilots to drop food into war-torn south Sudan. Kim is also from the US, she's been travelling for about 7 months already and is heading to India this weekend.

I had a such great night. Even managed to pick up after all this time.

I love travelling. I love meeting people. I love getting lost and wandering for hours. I love it all!

Karibu Kenya!

So my second day in Mauritius was spent waiting in line at the Air Mauritius office so I could change my ticket and meet Anusha in Mauritius at the end of November. I had to go to the bank to pay for the "penalty" for changing my ticket and was served by a really nice semi-attractive guy. He was just starting to get better and better looking till he started to count my money out and I noticed the thumb nail of his left hand was HUGE! I swear it was about 4 cms...gross.

The capital of Mauritius - Port Lois, is a lot like India. Crazy, polluted, and with Indians everywhere.

I arrived in Nairobi on Friday. After I'd collected my bags and was making to leave, some stupid lady stopped me and made me open my bags. On finding all the toys I'd brought for the Ebenezer Children's Home she proceeded to tell me I'd have to pay tax on each and every toy - which is a shitload of tax. I was so pissed off. Everyone else was just waltzing by and out, they didn't have to pay tax on a couple of toys. Anyway, I don't know what the hell I said to her, but she said she'd let me go "this time". Thank god. Karibu Kenya!

Martin, the man who manages the Ebenezer, came to pick me up from the airport. He's a typical african uncle with a pot belly, a big deep laugh, and a really odd sense of humour. I'd booked a dorm bed at the Upperhill Campsite, which is near Kenyatta National Hospital (where I'm supposed to be doing my placement) and so Martin dropped me off there. He seemed a little taken aback when he saw the surroundings. He couldn't comprehend why I'd chosen to stay at a place with ten beds packed into a small room. In saying that, the campsite is clean, there's hot water and toilet paper, a restaurant with a small selection of decent clean food, and a small bar. Which is more than most hostels around here would have., so it's really not that bad.

On my first night in Nairobi, I met a bunch of american Peace Corps, who were basically a bunch of young people who have finished their undergrad degrees, keen to show the world that not all americans are ignorant, arrogant and believe Bush is awesome. They're posted all over the country in villages for 2 years and they do public health and education projects. They were a bit difficult to get to know, as they were all catching up for the weekend after being posted in woop-woop by themselves, but the few that I did meet were awesome, and I now have a place to stay in a few random places around the country if I decide to venture there.

As I was waiting at the bar to buy a Tusker, I met a bunch of Kenyan guys. One of them opened the conversation by telling me that as a bwana (brother) he felt he should tell me I should be careful of African guys as they only want one thing. After we'd talked for a while they told me it was strange for an Indian girl like to me to actually talk to African guys. Interesting. There seems to be a lot of tension between the African and Indian populations. But guys were fun, nice and bought me beer so we chatted for a while. They kept belting out random rnb tunes and getting excited - so I asked them why they liked american music. Big mistake. I was treated to a lecture about how the beats are African, the bass is African, the tune is African, the only thing that's not African is the person singing. Put me in my place.

Saturday, I walked into the city with a girl from the hostel. Nairobi is a crazy city - people everywhere, matatus flying around on the road (or on the pavement). It's a lot more developed than I expected. I guess it was naive of me to think that it wouldn't be, after all it is the hub of international activity in Africa.

I didn't do much while I was there though. I've heard so many horror stories about this place and I had Veena's voice ringing in my ears - "Don't trust anyone Sne". I must've looked like a scared rabbit as I clutched my bag and tried to explore the place. In the end I tired of looking over my shoulder, and I went back to the hostel.

Sunday I went to church with Martin and his son, Joshua. It was in the middle of a poorer area in Nairobi. When I got there I was given a tour of the place which has a couple of classrooms out the back for Sunday school, and the beginnings of a house they're building for the Priest. I ended up gathering quite a crowd of kids who wanted to follow the mzungu (well close to) girl and touch her. I shook LOT of hands. I was introduced to one of the Sunday school classes (about 70 kids crammed into a room fit for about 15) and they sang a welcome song for me in Swahili. I have no idea what they were saying - the only word I could understand was Karibu (welcome) but it was so adorable.

The kids here are gorgeous. I dont know what it is. I think it's their eyes, they're so big and inquisitive.

The service was in Kiswahili, so I didn't understand any of it, which was good. I didn't really want to hear about how I would be going to hell for not being Christian, I just wanted to enjoy the music and the love in the air. I had to get up and say a few words in front of the congregation which was about 500 people. I mumbled Jambo and thanks for having me or something like that adn then the obligatory "Praise the Lord!" to which the whole congregation of 500 responded with "AMEN!". I felt a little awkward saying that...

The service was a lot like how you'd imagine a service in Africa to be. A LOT of singing. The choir sang a few songs, then they had a small group of people who sang some songs (like at paradise) then the congregation sang some songs. No boring hymns with an organ for this bunch. It was all bongos, harmonies, clapping and dancing in the pews!

I'll admit I have always been sceptical of religion in developing countries... what I mean is I've always wondered whether it's something that was forced on the people when they had nothing, or whether they really believed and loved. These people believed, and the love that was in their faces - well it's given me a newfound respect for Christianity. It wasn't a scary love, like Paradise-goers, it was a joy - they were so happy! It was really beautiful to see.

I don't think religion is bad, a lot of people do. Admittedly it is the root of a lot of the worlds problems. Maybe it's the Hindu in me, but I think that any faith is good. No matter what name you give your god(s) and what processes you go thru to pray to them, at the end of the day, just having faith in something has got to be a good thing. The problem arises when you start to think that other people are wrong for believing something different to you, and you try to actively convert them (perhaps even for your own personal gain). I've always known this, but I think being in church made me really believe it, and made me realise how good faith can be.

The only thing that made me feel uncomfortable all day was when Martin's wife asked me if I enjoyed the service. I replied enthusiastically that I did, cos I did. Then she said "We'll make an Anglican out of you before you leave". Er.. I really doubt that.

Oh and also, grace was said before EVERYTHING. Even before we drank a glass of soft drink. In my opinion it's a little excessive, but each to their own.

This place has so many churches - there's a church on every street corner, people representing different denominations trying to tell you why theirs is better, and promises of healing. And they call Adelaide the city of churches! This place puts Adelaide to shame :)

Afterwards Joshua, Martin's son, dropped me home. He's the same age as me and does IT or something like that. There was a subtle flirtation on his part all day, but cos it's been a damn long time since anyone has showed any interest in me, I didn't think anything of it. He was saying similar things to what the kenyans I'd met the other day were saying "Asians are really beautiful" etc... So obviously I thought he meant Asians in general. Also, I tend to forget as an Indian that makes me Asian.

He sort of invited himself into the hostel, which I didn't mind so much, but every now and then when there was a lull in the conversation he'd tell me how big African men are. Now, me being a little naive, thought, surely he can't be referring to his manhood. This guy is Martin's son, his mum is a Priest, they own an orphanage for children affected by HIV/AIDs and he works there regularly. It was a surreal experience.

Eventually we talked about sex outright, instead of skirting around the topic. Hold your horses Avhan, I know what you're thinking. No, we didn't talk about having sex together. Sorry to burst your bubble. More about the issues around sex like AIDs, contraception, sex before marriage etc. He had this weird idea that if a lady takes the pill for a long time the medicine builds up in her body and then when she has sex with a man, the medicine goes into his body and kills his sperm. It took me a while to assure him that the pill doesn't affect the man at all.

Then he decided to tell me that he'd never had sex, to which I responded "is that why you like to talk about it so much?" and so he changed the topic.

He's a nice guy and he's offered to invite me out with his friends to experience the nightlife of Nairobi someday, but I can't help wondering whether I can trust this guy. I actually thought there was some chemistry with all the subtle flirting and sideways glances and stuff, until he started talking about sex and how big he is... Maybe he thinks all western girls like to talk about sex. I dont know. Very awkward.

Anyway, I have no more money, so I have to go. Next time an update on the placement issue - which looks like it's going to fall thru.

Honeymooners Paradise

I'm in transit in Mauritius, but more about that later...

I didn't really know what to expect from Mauritius, or Mauritians (sounds like martians...) for that matter. When I was at the gate lounge waiting to board my flight, it was hard to pick who's Mauritian and who's not. There were the obvious Australian tourists, one group of what looked like footballers and their blonde wives , LOTS of couples making out in the lounge, two ladies with wedding dresses, a handful of Indian uncles and aunties, and a handful of French people. One or two hot islander boys (who I was hoping I would end up sitting next to - I mean if Arosha can do it...) and me.

Incidentally, I ended up sitting next to this typical South Indian business man, in a three piece navy suit, a metrosexual pink tie, a body that screamed "I've eaten too many laddoos", and enough bling to make Puff Daddy jealous. This guy had so much gold dripping off him I wondering why the hell he didn't pawn one of his fat ass rings and sit in business class. He had a bracelet that, I kid you not was a fat as my big toe, and solid gold. I tried to make conversation but he didn't really respond so eventually I who he was, what he did and where he was going was left up to my imagination. Thank god he didn't have body odour...

Mauritius is a beautiful place - I'd say it's a cross between India, Malaysia and a french seaside town. According to my friendly taxi driver, Brij, the population is 56% Indian, 13% Muslim, 9% from Mozambique and Madagascar, and the rest are Creole - people of Portugeuse and Dutch decent who's ancestors came here ages ago. It's a facinating place, with a very interesting history.

I'm staying with a friend's family friends - an older couple who are here from India for a few years. The uncle has a short term contract with the University of Mauritius as the Dean of the dental school. They speak to me in gujarati, the auntie is always wanting to feed me, and the Hindi channel is always on in the background with my favourite Indian serial "Kyun Ki Saas Kabhi Bahau Thi" or something like that - means "The mother-in-law was once the daughter-in-law too", so I feel like I'm in India at my Foi's place.

Today, I decided to hire a bike a ride along the beach from Trou aux Biches (where I'm staying) to Grand Baie which is considered the centre of the tourist scene. I totally underestimated the ride, about 8kms, which has been made worse by the fact that my bike is way too big for me, so I keep getting ass cramps everytime I get on the bike (cos I have to lift my leg up so high) and then ischial pain when I ride it...

The beaches are stunning - the water is crystal clear green and the sand is, I kid you not, like silk. The mountain ranges stretch across the island and provide a breaktaking backdrop to what is already breaktaking in itself. Everyone here speaks French or Creole (a mixture of French, Hindi and Italian apparently. It's wonderful to hear typically indian looking people speak fluent French, and english with a french accent. It's a beautiful mix of two cultures I love, and everyone is friendly to boot.

Not a bad place to transit hey?

New plans

Firstly, Vic, thanks for your email. Sorry I haven't written back. Congratulations on the birth of your daughter! Sorry for badmouthing your co-workers - they weren't exactly friendly to me though.

So my plans in Kenya have changed a lot since a posted about them so my new itinery is as follows:

After transiting in Mauritius, I'll arrive in Nairobi. I'll do my placement for two weeks, hopefully throw a safari in there somewhere and then head to Mumias a village north of Nairobi to check out the Books for Kenya project on behalf of EWB. From there I'm hoping to make my way to Jinja in Uganda for some white water rafting at the mouth of the Nile, then back to Mumias, over the Lake Baringo to see some flamingoes and rhinos, then back to Nairobi and out to Mauritius to meet Anusha.

I'm really looking forward really experiencing Kenyan culture in Mumias - I'm so lucky to have this opportunity. Hopefully both EWB and Insight can somehow get involved in Books for Kenya in some way.

Africa here I come!!