On that 7 continents in 7 years deal, I just realized that aside from a few people I don’t think that I have explicitly come out with that goal. But it is there and if all goes to plan I should finish it on the first time around. I hit up Europe back in ’08, took out the states in ’09-‘10, and conquered Africa in ’10-’11. That leaves Australia, South America, Asia, and Antarctica. There are expeditions from Argentina that sail to Antarctica so I would most likely have to tag team those two. That gives me one-year leeway assuming I can get Australia and Asia in separate years.
If anyone has any suggestions, I am all ears.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Ahhh shit.
I don’t like dwelling on things. Shit happens, I reflect and move on – quickly. Dwelling, means that I am missing the next opportunity to learn. I don’t like missing things, especially when I deem them important.
And now I am on the brink of a life altering decision. All fuzzy logic would point towards me going to China and accepting a teaching position at a university there. Everything else is telling me to hold out and wait for something better, which may not present itself in the very near future.
Continue my quest of 7 continents in 7 years in the most practical and affordable way possible – teaching, or go back get a job and fall in line with everyone else. Geeze, putting it that way makes the answer stand out even more. So why am I so torn over such a seemingly easy question? Family. Mine and MINE. The latter doesn’t exactly exist…yet. Enter “dwelling” stage left.
So here I am contemplating odds and opportunities that could or may not present themselves leaving me wondering about the potential hindsight of making either decision and trying to figure out wtf I am going to do.
Not that it really has any impact on the decision, but I most likely will have an offer from the French Teaching Assistantship to go and teach in the Marseille arondisement for next year as well. I’ll most likely be turning that one down, for the second time in as many years. It definitely pays to have options, but sometimes I just want all but one to go and take a swan dive off a cliff.
And now I am on the brink of a life altering decision. All fuzzy logic would point towards me going to China and accepting a teaching position at a university there. Everything else is telling me to hold out and wait for something better, which may not present itself in the very near future.
Continue my quest of 7 continents in 7 years in the most practical and affordable way possible – teaching, or go back get a job and fall in line with everyone else. Geeze, putting it that way makes the answer stand out even more. So why am I so torn over such a seemingly easy question? Family. Mine and MINE. The latter doesn’t exactly exist…yet. Enter “dwelling” stage left.
So here I am contemplating odds and opportunities that could or may not present themselves leaving me wondering about the potential hindsight of making either decision and trying to figure out wtf I am going to do.
Not that it really has any impact on the decision, but I most likely will have an offer from the French Teaching Assistantship to go and teach in the Marseille arondisement for next year as well. I’ll most likely be turning that one down, for the second time in as many years. It definitely pays to have options, but sometimes I just want all but one to go and take a swan dive off a cliff.
GOOOAAAALLLLL
Well I stayed up pretty late to watch the Richmond v. KU basketball game…mistake. I should have slept and then woken up to watch the two games after that. Oh well. Needless to say I didn’t get much sleep…before breakfast. Afterwards, I still didn’t get much sleep in between the random phone calls and knocks on the door, which were either answered by a very groggy Simon or Greg.
Most of that post-breakfast dealt with getting tickets to that night’s soccer match, but at the time both Simon and I were ready to say screw it let us sleep! I am glad we didn’t. After leaving later than one could in the US and expect to see any significant action, we took a few matatus and finally arrived at the stadium. It wasn’t anything too spectacular as it only holds 30,000 people and is nothing more than a really big, circular stair case inside. But what did stand out was the 6” barbed-wire fence that encircled the playing field. That was new. But considering the stadium is an built in a way that nothing can be destroyed or used against anyone else in a brawl, it seemed like it was probably necessary.
Before we even entered the stadium, we had to make our way through the hoards of people, most of whom were scalping, selling or stealing. Completely aware of my surroundings, I actually caught a pick-pocket going for my phone. I grabbed him and spun him around only to find out that there was a whole team of them and had it escalated, I could have lost a lot more than my phone. I let it slide, but I think that may have scared him enough.
But this match was everything you would expect in an African stadium – chaos. 95% of the people were Kenyan supporters who showed up hoping that they would see a miracle as the national team had only won one match in their past 19! And that is exactly what they got, a miracle. Well, the Kenyan side played a much better match than the supposedly superior Angolan side. So it wasn’t exactly a miracle, but the final goal came in the closing minutes of the game from a spectacular strike at the top of the 18. It was incredible and as fate would have it, Simon and I were sitting about 30” from the pitch at a good angle from the home side goal. All of the goals happened right in front of us so it was pretty cool.
As for that fence, we found out pretty quickly why it was there. Even the slightest bad call brought down a shower of empty and full pop bottles onto the field along with the typical jeering, whistles, drums, and vuvuzelas. And after both of the goals, people in the stands rushed the fence and quite a few made it over. There was a design flaw making it fairly easy to make it over unscathed. But the ones who made it over ran around the field taunting the other team and just being taken away by the moment. Security didn’t really seem to do much as the fans were all probably aware of the fact that the Gor Miah (one of the Kenyan Premier League teams) fans were tear gassed for bull-rushing the field after some controversial calls. Aside from that, there isn’t much that can compare to the crowd’s reaction after a goal. Even on a bigger stage, people are in control and rarely leave their seats. But when the seats don’t exist, per se, everyone melds together into a mob and it is insane. The only thing that I could compare it to would be like a very very very big version of Habiyé without the rusty spears and machetes and arrows and frogs. It was surreal.
After the game, the streets were flooded with people and shut down highways and roads on the way to the city centre to celebrate the victory.
Most of that post-breakfast dealt with getting tickets to that night’s soccer match, but at the time both Simon and I were ready to say screw it let us sleep! I am glad we didn’t. After leaving later than one could in the US and expect to see any significant action, we took a few matatus and finally arrived at the stadium. It wasn’t anything too spectacular as it only holds 30,000 people and is nothing more than a really big, circular stair case inside. But what did stand out was the 6” barbed-wire fence that encircled the playing field. That was new. But considering the stadium is an built in a way that nothing can be destroyed or used against anyone else in a brawl, it seemed like it was probably necessary.
Before we even entered the stadium, we had to make our way through the hoards of people, most of whom were scalping, selling or stealing. Completely aware of my surroundings, I actually caught a pick-pocket going for my phone. I grabbed him and spun him around only to find out that there was a whole team of them and had it escalated, I could have lost a lot more than my phone. I let it slide, but I think that may have scared him enough.
But this match was everything you would expect in an African stadium – chaos. 95% of the people were Kenyan supporters who showed up hoping that they would see a miracle as the national team had only won one match in their past 19! And that is exactly what they got, a miracle. Well, the Kenyan side played a much better match than the supposedly superior Angolan side. So it wasn’t exactly a miracle, but the final goal came in the closing minutes of the game from a spectacular strike at the top of the 18. It was incredible and as fate would have it, Simon and I were sitting about 30” from the pitch at a good angle from the home side goal. All of the goals happened right in front of us so it was pretty cool.
As for that fence, we found out pretty quickly why it was there. Even the slightest bad call brought down a shower of empty and full pop bottles onto the field along with the typical jeering, whistles, drums, and vuvuzelas. And after both of the goals, people in the stands rushed the fence and quite a few made it over. There was a design flaw making it fairly easy to make it over unscathed. But the ones who made it over ran around the field taunting the other team and just being taken away by the moment. Security didn’t really seem to do much as the fans were all probably aware of the fact that the Gor Miah (one of the Kenyan Premier League teams) fans were tear gassed for bull-rushing the field after some controversial calls. Aside from that, there isn’t much that can compare to the crowd’s reaction after a goal. Even on a bigger stage, people are in control and rarely leave their seats. But when the seats don’t exist, per se, everyone melds together into a mob and it is insane. The only thing that I could compare it to would be like a very very very big version of Habiyé without the rusty spears and machetes and arrows and frogs. It was surreal.
After the game, the streets were flooded with people and shut down highways and roads on the way to the city centre to celebrate the victory.
Nanyuki
Br. James approached Simon and I yesterday after work. He was aware that Simon wanted to visit a monastery close to Mt. Kenya and told us that we could go at any time. He had called one of the monks up there and found out that they had some rooms available for us. We decided to leave Wednesday.
It turns out the monastery is more of a retreat center than anything. And when we walked through the front gate it all seemed, familiar. Grassy fields surrounded by pine trees with actual wooden houses and some of them had porches! It was pretty cool and Simon and I immediately took advantage of the treeless, grassy field and pulled out our dinner plate errr frisbee. We play back at the Amani Center, but the field we use is spotted with randomly placed trees and vines and buildings. We got a bunch of looks as most people here have never seen one before, let alone two white people playing with one.
The first night was rather interesting as we had no idea what was going on save the little schedule posted on the back of our door. The monk who was told we were coming was away for the day and wasn’t going to get back until Thursday. So we have been walking around nonchalantly for the past day or so. We ran into the receptionist this morning and she found a monk to give us a tour of the Bible on the Ground, which is retreat-like path that goes through the story of the Bible in the context of African values. It was pretty interesting. There aren’t any pictures though, not allowed.
Also, we are not quite sure if this little retreat deal is free or not. The way it was presented to us sounded like it was going to be gratuit, but it seems expensive here with the quality of the food and some of the services. I guess we’ll find out at checkout. Also, we are above the mosquito line at the current elevation so there are no bugs! It is amazing and also the first time that I have not slept under a mosquito net in over 6 months.
It turns out the monastery is more of a retreat center than anything. And when we walked through the front gate it all seemed, familiar. Grassy fields surrounded by pine trees with actual wooden houses and some of them had porches! It was pretty cool and Simon and I immediately took advantage of the treeless, grassy field and pulled out our dinner plate errr frisbee. We play back at the Amani Center, but the field we use is spotted with randomly placed trees and vines and buildings. We got a bunch of looks as most people here have never seen one before, let alone two white people playing with one.
The first night was rather interesting as we had no idea what was going on save the little schedule posted on the back of our door. The monk who was told we were coming was away for the day and wasn’t going to get back until Thursday. So we have been walking around nonchalantly for the past day or so. We ran into the receptionist this morning and she found a monk to give us a tour of the Bible on the Ground, which is retreat-like path that goes through the story of the Bible in the context of African values. It was pretty interesting. There aren’t any pictures though, not allowed.
Also, we are not quite sure if this little retreat deal is free or not. The way it was presented to us sounded like it was going to be gratuit, but it seems expensive here with the quality of the food and some of the services. I guess we’ll find out at checkout. Also, we are above the mosquito line at the current elevation so there are no bugs! It is amazing and also the first time that I have not slept under a mosquito net in over 6 months.
Just another manic Monday
I showed up late to the bored meeting at the Center as is typical of Monday’s because I literally can’t stand the meetings. Making an actual decision at one of them is about as rare as seeing a Dodo bird. There is no official ‘boss’ at the center as the director wants everyone to be on the same level. That’s all fine and dandy Marx, but it only works on paper and you still need a leader!
The result is an all day meeting during which nothing gets accomplished. The fact that everyone is afraid to criticize and idea of someone else’s and that one critical comment can kill a discussion is evidence that more than just the budget needs to change. Enter Greg. If I am not busy loosing to the damn computer in a rigged scrabble game I am working with Simon to move the meeting on as quickly as possible. Timely comments can do wonders as does quick, analytical criticism. When something is being talked about that we can contribute to, we jump in at any chance just to prevent silence. Nothing really ever gets decided, but at least the discussion moves a little faster.
Also of note from the meeting, there were a few opportunities for people to volunteer for certain tasks that were all in everyone’s job description, Rose and Ann immediately looked away from the center of the table and started fiddling with things or doodling. Simon, two other volunteers and I looked at each other like “you’ve got to be kidding me.”
For people who like being efficient, we sure do despise Mondays.
The result is an all day meeting during which nothing gets accomplished. The fact that everyone is afraid to criticize and idea of someone else’s and that one critical comment can kill a discussion is evidence that more than just the budget needs to change. Enter Greg. If I am not busy loosing to the damn computer in a rigged scrabble game I am working with Simon to move the meeting on as quickly as possible. Timely comments can do wonders as does quick, analytical criticism. When something is being talked about that we can contribute to, we jump in at any chance just to prevent silence. Nothing really ever gets decided, but at least the discussion moves a little faster.
Also of note from the meeting, there were a few opportunities for people to volunteer for certain tasks that were all in everyone’s job description, Rose and Ann immediately looked away from the center of the table and started fiddling with things or doodling. Simon, two other volunteers and I looked at each other like “you’ve got to be kidding me.”
For people who like being efficient, we sure do despise Mondays.
Monday, March 28, 2011
Sundayzzzzzz
We slept in as has become the mantra of the Americans. Nothing wrong with it as we typically work harder than most and work outside of work. Upon waking up we spent a majority of the day writing the Safaricom proposal as well as filling out job applications.
That night I found out that ESPN 360 works on Simon’s computer and spent part of the night watching March Madness. It was blissful. I was also saddened by this as ESPN added a “BOSS” button to the menu allowing a viewer to switch instantly to a screenshot of Outlook and a half-written email and I will not be able to use it!
That night I found out that ESPN 360 works on Simon’s computer and spent part of the night watching March Madness. It was blissful. I was also saddened by this as ESPN added a “BOSS” button to the menu allowing a viewer to switch instantly to a screenshot of Outlook and a half-written email and I will not be able to use it!
Jokester
So there is this family staying at the Amani Center. None of the volunteers knows why they are there but they are. And they are annoying and obnoxious. Plus they hold the wazungu to a double standard when they think that we are being loud or annoying. Not good. Anywho, the other night Simon and I were sitting at a table eating our supper when out of the blue the dad decides to sit next to us. He doesn’t eat at the same table of the family and we think it is a tribal thing whereby “warriors” aren’t allowed to eat with women. So he sits down and the little girls start giggling. He doesn’t say a word. Simon tried to engage him in conversation and he gave a few one-word responses. Then he looked away and ate with a smirk on his face.
I wasn’t very pleased with this and neither was Simon. Had he conversed with us we wouldn’t have thought a thing about it. But he didn’t and hasn’t done so since. It should also be mentioned that this family treats the buffet as their personal food service and eats at will without any regard whatsoever to the fact that there are other people who need to eat. I think there have been 4 meals where there is nothing but Ugali (pate) and rice left for the volunteers.
In response to this we have decided to go and sit with him at supper, with the girls and talk amongst ourselves. We may even ask the girls about their opinions on women’s rights in Kenya!
I wasn’t very pleased with this and neither was Simon. Had he conversed with us we wouldn’t have thought a thing about it. But he didn’t and hasn’t done so since. It should also be mentioned that this family treats the buffet as their personal food service and eats at will without any regard whatsoever to the fact that there are other people who need to eat. I think there have been 4 meals where there is nothing but Ugali (pate) and rice left for the volunteers.
In response to this we have decided to go and sit with him at supper, with the girls and talk amongst ourselves. We may even ask the girls about their opinions on women’s rights in Kenya!
Day's go by...
The weekend was rather nice. It started raining on Friday and didn’t stop until Saturday morning. It was glorious. Once the rain stopped, Simon and I decided to head in to Nairobi as he had a package waiting for him at the post office. Little did we know that there were three post offices all located in different corners of the city. What’s worse is that after we finally located the right post office, we found out that “yes, we are open, but that department is only open during the week.” So much for that little excursion.
We spent the rest of the afternoon wandering around the streets and doing some small market window shopping. I was looking for vintage hats. The only one I found was a Hartford Whalers hat that had the names of two people stitched on the side. Had the names been different or not there I would have bought it in a heartbeat as probably very few of you know, that team doesn’t exist anymore.
Lunch was at an emptied out jazz club that doesn’t really play jazz music, but the food made up for it. I had a cheeseburger and fries for the first time in as long as I can remember. After lunch, we made our way back to the matatu station (matatus are 15 passenger vans that resemble the trottros of Ghana). On the way we stopped at the library of all places only to find out that their collection is as old as time and didn’t have anything that wasn’t outdated by about 20 years. It would be a great resource if one were writing a report contrasting styles of thought at various points in time…aka not for us. I was also greeted by a woman wearing an Ethiopian track once we got back on the road. I didn’t pay too much attention to it until I realized that there was an entire team of women wearing track suits. We think that they were a volleyball team hear for some tournament and we are both kicking ourselves for not turning around and running after them once we realized it.
We spent the rest of the afternoon wandering around the streets and doing some small market window shopping. I was looking for vintage hats. The only one I found was a Hartford Whalers hat that had the names of two people stitched on the side. Had the names been different or not there I would have bought it in a heartbeat as probably very few of you know, that team doesn’t exist anymore.
Lunch was at an emptied out jazz club that doesn’t really play jazz music, but the food made up for it. I had a cheeseburger and fries for the first time in as long as I can remember. After lunch, we made our way back to the matatu station (matatus are 15 passenger vans that resemble the trottros of Ghana). On the way we stopped at the library of all places only to find out that their collection is as old as time and didn’t have anything that wasn’t outdated by about 20 years. It would be a great resource if one were writing a report contrasting styles of thought at various points in time…aka not for us. I was also greeted by a woman wearing an Ethiopian track once we got back on the road. I didn’t pay too much attention to it until I realized that there was an entire team of women wearing track suits. We think that they were a volleyball team hear for some tournament and we are both kicking ourselves for not turning around and running after them once we realized it.
St. Patty's
It just wouldn’t be right if I didn’t do something big for what seems like an annual 21st birthday. Simon and I, decided to pay a visit to the Guinness factory in Nairobi to drown our sorrows of coming up short in the meeting earlier that day at Safaricom.
It took a while finding the darn place and once we did it was even tougher to get inside. I think we ended up parking illegally after blocking up delivery truck traffic for a few minutes. “It’s all good! Two guys in 3 piece suits, we own the place…” We went into the reception area to find out that tours had to be scheduled. After some deliberation we convinced the woman at the desk to make a call for us and get us the name of the person in charge of it all. She did, and sent us to the corporate office just down the road and told us to tell the security guards that we were there to see so-and-so and were cleared by so-and-so.
Likely story. We walked the half-mile to the corporate building, it wasn’t even Guinness, but a local beer called Tusker. The guards didn’t believe our story and made a call only to tell us that the result of the call was that we had to make the same call that they just made. We didn’t understand, but did it anyways. After about 20 minutes of standing at the guard house it started raining. Good thing we walked. Wait… We finally got a hold of the woman we needed only to find out that they have formally discontinued tours and we had no realistic chance of getting in. I joked that we should claim to be beer inspectors in 3-piece suits, but we let that one go.
Dan took the guards umbrella and ran, err walked back to the car and came to pick us up before heading back to the monastery. He left promptly afterwards and Simon and I crashed for a few hours. Upon waking up in time for supper we remembered that oh yeah, it’s St. Patty’s Day! Good thing we brewed a new batch of Pineapple Cider three days before. We ate and then partied it up with the Spaniards who brought along a bottle of Johnny Walker among other things. We drank the place dry.
All four of us took personal days from work the following morning and life was good.
It took a while finding the darn place and once we did it was even tougher to get inside. I think we ended up parking illegally after blocking up delivery truck traffic for a few minutes. “It’s all good! Two guys in 3 piece suits, we own the place…” We went into the reception area to find out that tours had to be scheduled. After some deliberation we convinced the woman at the desk to make a call for us and get us the name of the person in charge of it all. She did, and sent us to the corporate office just down the road and told us to tell the security guards that we were there to see so-and-so and were cleared by so-and-so.
Likely story. We walked the half-mile to the corporate building, it wasn’t even Guinness, but a local beer called Tusker. The guards didn’t believe our story and made a call only to tell us that the result of the call was that we had to make the same call that they just made. We didn’t understand, but did it anyways. After about 20 minutes of standing at the guard house it started raining. Good thing we walked. Wait… We finally got a hold of the woman we needed only to find out that they have formally discontinued tours and we had no realistic chance of getting in. I joked that we should claim to be beer inspectors in 3-piece suits, but we let that one go.
Dan took the guards umbrella and ran, err walked back to the car and came to pick us up before heading back to the monastery. He left promptly afterwards and Simon and I crashed for a few hours. Upon waking up in time for supper we remembered that oh yeah, it’s St. Patty’s Day! Good thing we brewed a new batch of Pineapple Cider three days before. We ate and then partied it up with the Spaniards who brought along a bottle of Johnny Walker among other things. We drank the place dry.
All four of us took personal days from work the following morning and life was good.
Slackin'
Nough said.
Also a group of Norwegians showed up the other day. They looked like snowmen on the first day and then pink snowmen on the second. Welcome to Africa. All kidding aside there was one cute girl in the bunch.
Also a group of Norwegians showed up the other day. They looked like snowmen on the first day and then pink snowmen on the second. Welcome to Africa. All kidding aside there was one cute girl in the bunch.
Sunday, March 27, 2011
Safaricom
We didn’t get the money. Drat. Well at least not yet.
Simon and I got all decked out in our suits and headed off to Nairobi for the day with Dan (the Center’s director). We made it to Safaricom headquarters and walked in like we owned the place. I mean, we were two white guys wearing three-piece suits, what else were we supposed to think?
Our attempt to be punctual on African time failed miserably as we showed up early, even on Western standards. That wasn’t too bad though as it gave us a chance go over everything one last time. When the call finally came, we went up and found ourselves in a cubicle-filled room and were shown to a little lounge area where we set up our laptop and took one final deep breath. Greatings were exchanged and then we were off! Surprisingly we were given a full 45 minutes to give our presentation before being rather abruptly shut down.
The woman we were dealing with, the sponsorship chairman, was visibly shocked by how much money we were asking for. I think we blew her away with the presentation though, and it was a very big reason why we were given the courtesy of finishing. She said that there are tons of organizations that send requests for meetings or money as we did, but it seemed like we were a little more prepared than the others.
We joked around for a few minutes to keep a light mood and gave one final pitch, to which she gave us the good old corporate tag line “it’s not that we don’t care, per se, it’s just that helping you doesn’t help us.” To be expected from the largest company in Kenya I guess, but she did tell us that she might be able to help us balance our budget for the current year (roughly $10,000).
We will hear back on our written proposal for that by next week.
All in all, it was a pretty neat experience and something that I don’t think too many other people in our situation have had the opportunity to do. And we learned quite a bit in the process. That all comes second to the fact that we still may be able to gain a large sum of money, securing the program for another year.
Simon and I got all decked out in our suits and headed off to Nairobi for the day with Dan (the Center’s director). We made it to Safaricom headquarters and walked in like we owned the place. I mean, we were two white guys wearing three-piece suits, what else were we supposed to think?
Our attempt to be punctual on African time failed miserably as we showed up early, even on Western standards. That wasn’t too bad though as it gave us a chance go over everything one last time. When the call finally came, we went up and found ourselves in a cubicle-filled room and were shown to a little lounge area where we set up our laptop and took one final deep breath. Greatings were exchanged and then we were off! Surprisingly we were given a full 45 minutes to give our presentation before being rather abruptly shut down.
The woman we were dealing with, the sponsorship chairman, was visibly shocked by how much money we were asking for. I think we blew her away with the presentation though, and it was a very big reason why we were given the courtesy of finishing. She said that there are tons of organizations that send requests for meetings or money as we did, but it seemed like we were a little more prepared than the others.
We joked around for a few minutes to keep a light mood and gave one final pitch, to which she gave us the good old corporate tag line “it’s not that we don’t care, per se, it’s just that helping you doesn’t help us.” To be expected from the largest company in Kenya I guess, but she did tell us that she might be able to help us balance our budget for the current year (roughly $10,000).
We will hear back on our written proposal for that by next week.
All in all, it was a pretty neat experience and something that I don’t think too many other people in our situation have had the opportunity to do. And we learned quite a bit in the process. That all comes second to the fact that we still may be able to gain a large sum of money, securing the program for another year.
Manchester United
So aside from my time in Ireland I have never really been a diehard supporter of any football team. I mean, Liverpool was an obvious holdover. But outside of that I typically just root against the bigname hotshot teams or against specific players that I will never ever root for AKA Wayne Rooney and Manchester United. And apparently Kenya and most of Africa for that matter suffer from the same thing that swept the soccer crazies in the states in the 90s. Only the top teams in the Championship games get televised and so naturally everyone either picks and team and sticks with ‘em or blows with the prevailing breeze. The ManU “fans” who inhabit the pub down the street are the prevailing breeze type that care about the W and not the way it was won.
I can’t wait until Tuesday night when OM gets a shot at ManU and I’ll get a chance to lay down some French chants. Dirty team, dirty players and even dirtier fans. Think USC at the end of the Pete Carrol era, just dirty. Anywho, at least the atmosphere is a little livelier, sure beats everyone going for the same team.
I can’t wait until Tuesday night when OM gets a shot at ManU and I’ll get a chance to lay down some French chants. Dirty team, dirty players and even dirtier fans. Think USC at the end of the Pete Carrol era, just dirty. Anywho, at least the atmosphere is a little livelier, sure beats everyone going for the same team.
Impulse
I had to make up for 6+ months of not being able to make impulse buys. Simon and I bought tailored 3 piece suites for our upcoming presentation. At a whopping $40 it seamed like a pretty good idea, especially considering I have no presentable clothes here save a pair of hiking pants that are khaki. It’s all coming together now and hopefully with a strong final push we can lock this thing in and go on vacation for a month!
Welcome to the Bigtime
We got the meeting! The head of Safaricom’s Social Works and Funding Division (AKA BIG time corporate funding) finally answered one of our phone calls and Simon set it up for Thursday at noon. It’s not exactly the type of work that I thought I would be doing when I signed up for the children’s center, but fundraising would be supremely more beneficial than anything else I would be doing. Hopefully all goes well as we have spent the past two weeks updating our databases, fixing our budget (which had basic mathematical errors and somehow left out funding for 8 children), and working on pamphlets and a powerpoint presentation.
Well Simon and I have been doing the bulk of it and have probably come off as a little crass when interacting with some of the lazier staff members. And I say that earnestly as just yesterday (Friday) I witnessed Rose (27 year old post-grad student, weighs about 230) try to reach over the side of the couch to grab a pair of flip flops and fail. So, she yelled out the door to one of the children playing and had him come in and move them closer to her feet. You can only imagine what her work ethic is like for the actual work.
But in any case, we should be ready for the meeting and have even considered buying second hand suits for the occasion as my only clothes are the rugged outdoors type save my traditional Togolese cotton suits, which would most likely get me laughed out of the building.
Well Simon and I have been doing the bulk of it and have probably come off as a little crass when interacting with some of the lazier staff members. And I say that earnestly as just yesterday (Friday) I witnessed Rose (27 year old post-grad student, weighs about 230) try to reach over the side of the couch to grab a pair of flip flops and fail. So, she yelled out the door to one of the children playing and had him come in and move them closer to her feet. You can only imagine what her work ethic is like for the actual work.
But in any case, we should be ready for the meeting and have even considered buying second hand suits for the occasion as my only clothes are the rugged outdoors type save my traditional Togolese cotton suits, which would most likely get me laughed out of the building.
Strip and Go Simba
Simon and I tested out an African brewing recipe that involved pineapples. It worked, we had roughly 6 liters of Pineapple beer, which we later added Simba brand cane liquor (2 dollar 750ml bottle at 43%) to. You couldn’t taste the rubbing alcohol at all and so we dubbed it the African Strip and GO!
Even the Germans liked it, especially the two moms who were visiting at the time. We were quite surprised. Now its time to perfect it…
Even the Germans liked it, especially the two moms who were visiting at the time. We were quite surprised. Now its time to perfect it…
Damn Kids
Simon and I went to fill bottles for our trash fence at one of the local primary schools. I wanted to take some pictures of the kids working. But alas, when a kid in Africa sees a camera there is no such thing as candid working. I was engulfed in a sea of children. And in an attempt to salvage some photos, I continued to back up and keep snapping. Little did I know that the waste trench leading to the river from the school latrines was fast approaching and before I knew it I had fallen in. They immediately jumped back as I quickly pulled my foot out of the foot deep muck. I was jeered with chants of ‘sorry, sorry’ which were more reminiscent of mocks than apologies for allowing me to take the fall. Then there were the other kids who thought that it would be funny to poke the bear and make fun of the ‘stinky foot.’ That stopped pretty quickly after I picked up a perpetrator and dangled him over the trench for a minute or so.
That same afternoon some kids tried to use the bottles that we handed out as water bottles. Luckily they hadn’t thought things through and weren’t doing it sneakily. Already a little on edge I decided to punish them by making each kid I caught with water instead of trash drink the entire thing in front of me and then fill it with trash. I don’t think they realized the severity of the punishment until an hour later when they were sitting in class and weren’t allowed to leave for a bathroom break. That’ll teach ‘em.
That same afternoon some kids tried to use the bottles that we handed out as water bottles. Luckily they hadn’t thought things through and weren’t doing it sneakily. Already a little on edge I decided to punish them by making each kid I caught with water instead of trash drink the entire thing in front of me and then fill it with trash. I don’t think they realized the severity of the punishment until an hour later when they were sitting in class and weren’t allowed to leave for a bathroom break. That’ll teach ‘em.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Glue (*graphic)
I have seen some pretty difficult things to stomach in my life, but what I had to witness the other day gave me a sick feeling inside. We recruited about 20 children and confiscated 3 or 4 bottles of substances (glue, soap, and gasoline combinations). Before I get to the tough part, I will tell you that if any of the kids had looked into the office around 3p.m. they would have seen the entire staff sniffing the substances and passing them around. The thought struck Simon and I as we were figuring out what they were and then looking to find that the door was wide open. Oops. I don’t think anyone saw us, luckily.
Anywho, the new recruits are allowed to leave at will and upon leaving they are returned their substances. It baffled and infuriated me. I know the process of rehabilitation and weaning someone off of a substance if they are addicted must be considered. But being a psychology major and knowing the effects of huffing toxins on the brain, well I wasn’t a happy camper. Just to refresh you on the effects of sniffing glue (or a bunch of the smelly markers from 4th grade) the acute and chronic symptoms are:
Acute – impaired sensory ability (like being drunk), slurred speech, ataxia, dizziness, confusion, vertigo, heart palpitations, tachycardia, lung damage, & pneumonitis
Chronic – irreversible CNS, cerebral cortex atrophy, cerebellar degeneration,
peripheral neuropathy, optic neuropathy, blindness, toxic hepatitis, liver failure, & sever muscle weakness
I have seen most of the acute symptoms and the kids with them are wild, uncontrollable. And up until today (a few days after seeing the bottles given back) the acute symptoms were all that I had seen. That changed and it’s scary. A 35 year old mad who looked more like a sickly teenager came to the center. Apparently he had been there almost a decade before, but had left to return to the streets. Not only was he sickly, he had lost most of his dexterity in his hands and had a resting tremor throughout his body due to CNS deterioration. He couldn’t even grip my hand when I went to shake his upon meeting him. Speech is almost non-existent and is mostly a symphony of hysterical laughs and occasionally a slurred word or two. He won’t make it through the year as liver and lung failure are next on the list of potential symptoms.
Anywho, the new recruits are allowed to leave at will and upon leaving they are returned their substances. It baffled and infuriated me. I know the process of rehabilitation and weaning someone off of a substance if they are addicted must be considered. But being a psychology major and knowing the effects of huffing toxins on the brain, well I wasn’t a happy camper. Just to refresh you on the effects of sniffing glue (or a bunch of the smelly markers from 4th grade) the acute and chronic symptoms are:
Acute – impaired sensory ability (like being drunk), slurred speech, ataxia, dizziness, confusion, vertigo, heart palpitations, tachycardia, lung damage, & pneumonitis
Chronic – irreversible CNS, cerebral cortex atrophy, cerebellar degeneration,
peripheral neuropathy, optic neuropathy, blindness, toxic hepatitis, liver failure, & sever muscle weakness
I have seen most of the acute symptoms and the kids with them are wild, uncontrollable. And up until today (a few days after seeing the bottles given back) the acute symptoms were all that I had seen. That changed and it’s scary. A 35 year old mad who looked more like a sickly teenager came to the center. Apparently he had been there almost a decade before, but had left to return to the streets. Not only was he sickly, he had lost most of his dexterity in his hands and had a resting tremor throughout his body due to CNS deterioration. He couldn’t even grip my hand when I went to shake his upon meeting him. Speech is almost non-existent and is mostly a symphony of hysterical laughs and occasionally a slurred word or two. He won’t make it through the year as liver and lung failure are next on the list of potential symptoms.
Mathare
I took my first real trip to the deepest and darkest corners of the slum today. Dan, the program director, Bruce, a child at the center, and I went to see the shanty where he stays every night. It was built by a former street child and houses 15 adults and 14 children. Getting to it was a task in and of itself as I found myself crawling through trash piles, balancing along brick bridges that ran alongside and through the sewage that flows through the back alleys. At times I was ducking from the rugged tin roofs while balancing on stones and small walls while having to jump from one side of the little rivers to the other. I passed countless children answering nature’s call openly in the sewage, looking up with huge smiles and friendly greetings of “Mazungu!” (white person). I don’t think that they are used to seeing my kind so close to home. There were also the glue sniffers basking in the shade of the shanties and lounging around with the various bottles glued to their noses. I’ll get to this in another post.
We arrived out of the blue as I had no idea what to expect. I was told it was a makeshift center for street people. My conception was a horribly built brick building that was ready to fall down. I was greeted by a two-story tin box held together by inch and a half long nails and various lengths of wood. I was a little freaked out by the location and the fact that if something happened to me there…we just wont go there. But sitting in that sweatbox of a house, I wondered 1. Why am I here? and 2. why anyone would leave a mud brick house in the countryside to come live in the city? To the first, Bruce’s mom left her husband and then abandoned him in the streets and neither has yet to be found. To the second, the thought of a western lifestyle is more appealing than the alternative.
We arrived out of the blue as I had no idea what to expect. I was told it was a makeshift center for street people. My conception was a horribly built brick building that was ready to fall down. I was greeted by a two-story tin box held together by inch and a half long nails and various lengths of wood. I was a little freaked out by the location and the fact that if something happened to me there…we just wont go there. But sitting in that sweatbox of a house, I wondered 1. Why am I here? and 2. why anyone would leave a mud brick house in the countryside to come live in the city? To the first, Bruce’s mom left her husband and then abandoned him in the streets and neither has yet to be found. To the second, the thought of a western lifestyle is more appealing than the alternative.
Animal House
So our house got broken into by the monkeys. Fuckers. We had a nice little stockpile of mangoes and avocadoes in our defunct kitchen and while we were at the center, the little devils somehow opened our loosely latched window and stole everything. Well not everything…Simon and I are brewing Pineapple beer. Luckily, we left it in Simon’s room and it seemed to be undisturbed. But oh my golly would it be hilarious to walk into a house full of drunk monkeys.
Takataka
It’s a cool word in Swahili, but it means trash. I hear it a lot because I am helping Simon with a project that he had started prior to my arrival. We are currently building a fence out of trash around the little “shamba” or field that borders the center. The goal is to protect the produce that the center grows from the many passers-by who pick the almost ready produce a day or two before we are ready to pick them. So Simon decided to start building a fence out of plastic bottles filled with trash. Sounds simple enough, but trying to get 10, 11, & 12 year old children to fill a bottle with trash from around their school complexes isn’t the easiest thing in the world. But it is fun and once the kids buy into it, they enjoy themselves and start to loosen up around the two white dudes. Pictures of the gate, the only part that had been constructed prior to my arrival, can be found on the center’s website in the photo gallery.
Dan's Pub
Simon and I got invited to watch a Premier League match with the director of the center last week. It was sure to be an interesting night as all three of us have different team allegiances along with the ‘enemy of my enemy’ mentality. For that match, it ended up being Simon and I against Dan. Upon arriving, Dan welcomed us to his ‘pub,’ which is a one story 3 room house on the outskirts of town. It was a fun night and ended in Simon and my favor when Manchester United lost.
A few nights after this, we were taken out for a beer (at Dan’s Bar – had me confused the entire way there) after work by one of the other workers. Although, this time around, it wasn’t quite as enjoyable. You know that one guy who is the first one to point out that someone bought a round for everyone and then asks for volunteers to buy the next round? Yeah, he sat next to me. And in between his trying to get volunteers to pay for next week’s outing (if it happens…) he regailed me with the do’s and don’ts of sleeping with hookers in Nairobi. Neither Simon nor I could figure out how that conversation started. I mean, he is a really nice guy (Fred, a Kenyan volunteer at the center), but just a touch out of tune with the social do’s and don’ts.
In fact it was his generous asking of our host to buy us beef tips and broth after I mentioned to Simon that I was hungry and couldn’t wait for supper. We ended up waiting an extra hour and a half and missing supper to have lukewarm goat and broth. We weren’t very happy. And that compounded when we were told that one of their new found friends was going to accompany us to the other side of the street. Crossing the 4 lane highway on foot is no easy task, but the last time I checked I didn’t need some stranger to hold my hand. I have Simon for that But yeah, we walked the Western pace and fumed back at the complex. Luckily, one of the German volunteers saw that we weren’t at supper and snagged some for us. She also bought us a few beers and well you just don’t say no to that!
We ate and drank a little more before winding down the night. At that point, we were groggy and still a bit pissed off from earlier. Then Simon got a call from a friend who was collecting bottles for our fence saying that we needed to come pick them up for some reason or another (I later found out that this girl has a crush on Simon, great reason for me to go and carry a few bags of recycled bottles a half mile at midnight). She ended up coming back with us because her water is out; I should have made her prove it. On the way back we saw some guy either get mugged or get caught trying to stiff the bar that is just down the street. Either way we kept walking and tried to pretend that we weren’t there. Simon ended up having to walk her back home and I should have gone with him because there was animal in one of the bottle bags, which were being stored in our kitchen. I got spooked and drunkenly jumped at any noise outside and shriveled at the thought that a monkey had gotten into our house. I spent the next 20 minutes holding the kitchen door shut waiting for Simon to make it back. Even he was on edge from walking back with visions of the scuffle running through his head.
We slept until breakfast and then slept until noon.
A few nights after this, we were taken out for a beer (at Dan’s Bar – had me confused the entire way there) after work by one of the other workers. Although, this time around, it wasn’t quite as enjoyable. You know that one guy who is the first one to point out that someone bought a round for everyone and then asks for volunteers to buy the next round? Yeah, he sat next to me. And in between his trying to get volunteers to pay for next week’s outing (if it happens…) he regailed me with the do’s and don’ts of sleeping with hookers in Nairobi. Neither Simon nor I could figure out how that conversation started. I mean, he is a really nice guy (Fred, a Kenyan volunteer at the center), but just a touch out of tune with the social do’s and don’ts.
In fact it was his generous asking of our host to buy us beef tips and broth after I mentioned to Simon that I was hungry and couldn’t wait for supper. We ended up waiting an extra hour and a half and missing supper to have lukewarm goat and broth. We weren’t very happy. And that compounded when we were told that one of their new found friends was going to accompany us to the other side of the street. Crossing the 4 lane highway on foot is no easy task, but the last time I checked I didn’t need some stranger to hold my hand. I have Simon for that But yeah, we walked the Western pace and fumed back at the complex. Luckily, one of the German volunteers saw that we weren’t at supper and snagged some for us. She also bought us a few beers and well you just don’t say no to that!
We ate and drank a little more before winding down the night. At that point, we were groggy and still a bit pissed off from earlier. Then Simon got a call from a friend who was collecting bottles for our fence saying that we needed to come pick them up for some reason or another (I later found out that this girl has a crush on Simon, great reason for me to go and carry a few bags of recycled bottles a half mile at midnight). She ended up coming back with us because her water is out; I should have made her prove it. On the way back we saw some guy either get mugged or get caught trying to stiff the bar that is just down the street. Either way we kept walking and tried to pretend that we weren’t there. Simon ended up having to walk her back home and I should have gone with him because there was animal in one of the bottle bags, which were being stored in our kitchen. I got spooked and drunkenly jumped at any noise outside and shriveled at the thought that a monkey had gotten into our house. I spent the next 20 minutes holding the kitchen door shut waiting for Simon to make it back. Even he was on edge from walking back with visions of the scuffle running through his head.
We slept until breakfast and then slept until noon.
Saturday, March 5, 2011
Western Pace
Simon tells me that my coming was a nice infusion of energy into the center. As a majority of the “work” is playing countless games of Sorry! and checkers with the kids, it is easy to fall into a lackadaisical mindset. Not that it is a bad thing by any means and it definitely provides a nice break from the traditional conception of work, even if it is done at an African pace.
But Simon and I have actually been cruising along. We have convinced the staff to update the database and correct some of the mistakes and anomalies found in the children’s files. And while they work on one computer, Simon and I work on the other creating a website for the center. Not that it wasn’t a legitimate program before, but in the digital age it is almost necessary. You can visit it at www.mathareproject.webs.com. It is still a work in progress, but should be finished and updated regularly after that point. Some of the more interesting updates that we are looking forward to include graphs of the data regarding our children, which the techno savvy Simon and Greg discovered through messing around in the database.
But Simon and I have actually been cruising along. We have convinced the staff to update the database and correct some of the mistakes and anomalies found in the children’s files. And while they work on one computer, Simon and I work on the other creating a website for the center. Not that it wasn’t a legitimate program before, but in the digital age it is almost necessary. You can visit it at www.mathareproject.webs.com. It is still a work in progress, but should be finished and updated regularly after that point. Some of the more interesting updates that we are looking forward to include graphs of the data regarding our children, which the techno savvy Simon and Greg discovered through messing around in the database.
Friday, March 4, 2011
I am gonna like it here
Simon and I live in a two bedroom “house” equivalent to the dingiest party houses in Saint Joseph, MN with the same accommodations…broken sink in the kitchen, broken water heater, poor water pressure in the shower, small rooms. It’s like heaven.
There are 4 German girls living on the other side of the guest compound along with a few workers and some nuns.
The schedule is pretty much the same as Togo. The only main difference is that we eat separately from the monks. But from the proximity of living quarters from my previous location, I am not complaining. The monks that I have met are very nice as are the local people who I have come into contact with.
Things are more expensive than in Togo and it all seems foreign to me. If I needed something there I could get it fairly painlessly, but here I don’t know anything and am relying on other people. Not that it is a bad thing, but I need to get use to it after Togo.
The weather is comparable to summer in Nebraska and is actually too cold for me at the moment. I found myself shivering in a sweater on Sunday night (it was about 70). A little over a year ago I was running through blizzards in a hula skirt. The days are a cool 80 and unless I am in the sunlight feels like autumn.
I am working at a center for street children in the second largest slum in Nairobi. The center takes children off of the streets and away from crime and drugs in order to rehabilitate them and reconnect them with their families. We also try to get the kids back into school with the ultimate goal being passing their exams and getting accepted into high school.
The food is pretty good. They have their own form of pate, but I choose not to eat it if there are other options.
And… there are monkeys living on the grounds and I was lucky enough to snag a few pictures of them climbing around on the drainage chains hung from the houses.
There are 4 German girls living on the other side of the guest compound along with a few workers and some nuns.
The schedule is pretty much the same as Togo. The only main difference is that we eat separately from the monks. But from the proximity of living quarters from my previous location, I am not complaining. The monks that I have met are very nice as are the local people who I have come into contact with.
Things are more expensive than in Togo and it all seems foreign to me. If I needed something there I could get it fairly painlessly, but here I don’t know anything and am relying on other people. Not that it is a bad thing, but I need to get use to it after Togo.
The weather is comparable to summer in Nebraska and is actually too cold for me at the moment. I found myself shivering in a sweater on Sunday night (it was about 70). A little over a year ago I was running through blizzards in a hula skirt. The days are a cool 80 and unless I am in the sunlight feels like autumn.
I am working at a center for street children in the second largest slum in Nairobi. The center takes children off of the streets and away from crime and drugs in order to rehabilitate them and reconnect them with their families. We also try to get the kids back into school with the ultimate goal being passing their exams and getting accepted into high school.
The food is pretty good. They have their own form of pate, but I choose not to eat it if there are other options.
And… there are monkeys living on the grounds and I was lucky enough to snag a few pictures of them climbing around on the drainage chains hung from the houses.
Welcome to Nairobi
About 5 minutes into the drive to the monastery we witnessed a street-fight in a poorly lit parking lot on the side of the road. Welcome to Nairobi.
Airports
I don’t know what it is about me, but the security guards just love to pester me. Before even going through the second screening zone, I got called back into a security room and told to open my checked bag (the one crammed with all of the random things that I knew I couldn’t carry on). Luckily alarm was dismissed by politeness and the setting up of a tripod, the likes of which none of them had seen before. Next in Addis Ababa, without leaving the airport, I had to go through security again. This time, the guard didn’t believe that my little duck tape pouch was only used to hold my credit and health cards. He examined it for over a minute. I was then instructed to drink from my unopened and recently bought bottle of whiskey. I had some leftover money in Togo and there wasn’t an exchange bureau. I laughed and said “you have to be kidding.” He watched me open it, take a pull, and swallow all the way down. Then upon arriving in Kenya, the immigration officer gave me a rough time because I didn’t have an address. The address was totally my fault in lack of preparation, but it never came up in any of my quick messages to Simon and I didn’t exactly have a ton of time to arrange everything electronically. But if he had let me walk another 50 ft. Simon and a monk were there waiting for me. In any case, I got through and will never see him again.
Thursday, March 3, 2011
Present
So I am in my room, sweating my balls off trying to make everything fit in my pack and suitcase when low and behold Ezekiel shows up. He hands me a letter for Boniface and a bag. The bag had a Canadian tuxedo in it as a going away gift. Not that I didn’t like it, but shit now I have an all denim outfit that I have to pack.
Leaving
The goodbyes took longer than I like, but I played along anyways as I could see that all I have done here has had a fairly sizeable impact on the community. I took one final tour of the garden and did the goodbye thing before sprinting off to the school as the bus was being loaded. I made quick stops by the primary school and each of the grade school classes to say one final goodbye to everyone. The bishop, who was running on a different schedule than mine (he was just going to Kara for the morning), wasn’t shy about his impatience as he honked his horn for me to hurry up. I ran past the school one final time towards the road where I jumped in the bus and the 12 hour, 500 km journey started.
We left at 8 from Agbang. We made it to Kara at 8h45 and left at 9h15. We stopped for a few random pee breaks (there were two women in the travel party, evil included; and nothing against women, but in my experience you need to stop more than guys). We then stopped for an hour long “lunch” (at 3pm) about 150km from Lomé. Upon leaving the driver, Fr. Gregoire, killed a goat. The darn thing had the dear in the headlights look from about 100m away, no chance. We then played stop and let three people out to go bargain shopping for roadside rat and squirrel. Alongside of the highway, hunters sell bush rat and squirrel. I thought we should’ve just taken the goat that we accidentally killed. In any case, we stopped about 3 times for up to 20 minutes at a time to let people out and go haggle with the hunters. Being someone who doesn’t like not having traveled at least 400 miles in 6 hours of driving, I wasn’t a very happy camper being 8 hours in and not having even gotten 400 km.
After finally finding a few rats (of which I will not be eating mind you), we made it to the outskirts of the city where we were greeted by a traffic jam, Togo style. Two and occasionally 3 story trucks, vans, mammy-wagons, cars, and motos to plug the spaces between all going the same direction on a 2-way street. (yes that sentence has no verb, and I am leaving it) The problem as we found out after 2 hours of waiting, was a semi that was having mechanical trouble and parked on the wrong side of the road – into incoming traffic. Then when the one-way passing lane was being cleared, the Lomé bound traffic took advantage of the clearing and moved into the oncoming lane as there currently was no oncoming traffic. That didn’t work out too well when the massive semis leaving Lomé were finally allowed to pass. It was hot and humid. The AC doesn’t work so all of the windows were down, which was wonderful considering all of the toxic fumes streamlining it into my lungs from the mass of cars trapped on what I would consider a country backroad.
We finally got free and then started dropping people off all over the city. Ezekiel even surprised me by telling the evil woman, who he usually has to cater to at the bidding of the prior that we were not going to visit her friend’s house so that she could drop off a basket of tomatoes, but instead were going straight to her house and leaving it all there. She wasn’t happy, but she wasn’t driving either. Ezekiel then surprised me again by getting out of the bus and saying that he would see us later (I found out upon arriving at the house an hour later that he had come straight here because he was thirsty). We stopped at the woman’s house, where she scolded the guard for not greeting her loud enough. I felt sorry for him. She then invited the monks inside for a beer. Nope not tonight after this car ride. I was not shy about my feelings at this point reflecting on the fact that I was all but forced to take the bus down after having already purchased a courier ticket from the postal service line. Luckily, the driver listened to my plea and was out in less than a minute.
Alas, after 12 hours on the road we arrived at the house where I was greeted by all of my friends. I was also greeted by Ezekiel who then told me that he came straight back after getting out of the car. I joked about him not taking me with or even bother asking if anyone else wanted to go back. It came out as a joke, but I was dead serious underneath the mask. That faded as it didn’t have any impact on the present. I am here and only a day away from leaving Togo.
We left at 8 from Agbang. We made it to Kara at 8h45 and left at 9h15. We stopped for a few random pee breaks (there were two women in the travel party, evil included; and nothing against women, but in my experience you need to stop more than guys). We then stopped for an hour long “lunch” (at 3pm) about 150km from Lomé. Upon leaving the driver, Fr. Gregoire, killed a goat. The darn thing had the dear in the headlights look from about 100m away, no chance. We then played stop and let three people out to go bargain shopping for roadside rat and squirrel. Alongside of the highway, hunters sell bush rat and squirrel. I thought we should’ve just taken the goat that we accidentally killed. In any case, we stopped about 3 times for up to 20 minutes at a time to let people out and go haggle with the hunters. Being someone who doesn’t like not having traveled at least 400 miles in 6 hours of driving, I wasn’t a very happy camper being 8 hours in and not having even gotten 400 km.
After finally finding a few rats (of which I will not be eating mind you), we made it to the outskirts of the city where we were greeted by a traffic jam, Togo style. Two and occasionally 3 story trucks, vans, mammy-wagons, cars, and motos to plug the spaces between all going the same direction on a 2-way street. (yes that sentence has no verb, and I am leaving it) The problem as we found out after 2 hours of waiting, was a semi that was having mechanical trouble and parked on the wrong side of the road – into incoming traffic. Then when the one-way passing lane was being cleared, the Lomé bound traffic took advantage of the clearing and moved into the oncoming lane as there currently was no oncoming traffic. That didn’t work out too well when the massive semis leaving Lomé were finally allowed to pass. It was hot and humid. The AC doesn’t work so all of the windows were down, which was wonderful considering all of the toxic fumes streamlining it into my lungs from the mass of cars trapped on what I would consider a country backroad.
We finally got free and then started dropping people off all over the city. Ezekiel even surprised me by telling the evil woman, who he usually has to cater to at the bidding of the prior that we were not going to visit her friend’s house so that she could drop off a basket of tomatoes, but instead were going straight to her house and leaving it all there. She wasn’t happy, but she wasn’t driving either. Ezekiel then surprised me again by getting out of the bus and saying that he would see us later (I found out upon arriving at the house an hour later that he had come straight here because he was thirsty). We stopped at the woman’s house, where she scolded the guard for not greeting her loud enough. I felt sorry for him. She then invited the monks inside for a beer. Nope not tonight after this car ride. I was not shy about my feelings at this point reflecting on the fact that I was all but forced to take the bus down after having already purchased a courier ticket from the postal service line. Luckily, the driver listened to my plea and was out in less than a minute.
Alas, after 12 hours on the road we arrived at the house where I was greeted by all of my friends. I was also greeted by Ezekiel who then told me that he came straight back after getting out of the car. I joked about him not taking me with or even bother asking if anyone else wanted to go back. It came out as a joke, but I was dead serious underneath the mask. That faded as it didn’t have any impact on the present. I am here and only a day away from leaving Togo.
Can you say king?
Well that’s the kind of treatment I got from everyone on my final visit to Kara. Everyone I visited, was very gracious and saddened at my recent departure. I have never been one for gaudy goodbye’s, so it was somewhat difficult to engage everyone in the endless ‘say hi to your family when you return, good luck, safe travels, Godspeed, say hi to Boniface in Nairobi, enjoy your time, don’t forget us, and be safe’s.’ I received just about every one of those from every person. And that is the shortened/translated version. But I did. There were also a few small gift/trinket exchanges, which were heartwarming.
Back at Agbang (I drove the moto both ways and through the city and incidentally broke just about every traffic rule, what few there are. I only ended up going into oncoming traffic twice!) I was greeted at supper by just about every monk in the community and a nice little going away speech from the prior all before sitting down to a feast of a meal made specially for the occasion. Everyone was all smiles save the beady-eyed woman who had to stand and listen to it all before sitting down to eat it. Win? Yep! It was very satisfying after putting up with her for the past month considering that she is leaving on the same day as I am The hotelier wasn’t into the speech too much either, but that wasn’t completely unexpected.
On the subject of the woman, the day before she was singing rather loudly outside of my door. It started right after breakfast and inconsequently right when I started cleaning my room and packing up. I had had it, not today on my last day here, and not for four straight hours…again. I went up to Johanas and made my case to ask him to ask her to stop. He agreed with me and then confessed that he was sick of her too. In his words, “This is a monastery, not a hotel. She has no right being here or ordering us around like she does, save she’s in the graces of the prior.” We found the surprior and he said that he would talk to her in a few minutes when he came to give me a list of needed medications. Well that wasn’t for about a half an hour. But he came, and almost as soon as he entered the monastery he heard her bellowing and sprinted to her to ask her to stop. She ignored him and then asked “Why? Because of my voice?” and continued even louder. American Idol candidate anyone? She won for the time being, but the prior showed up soon thereafter with some guests. She shut right up, before he could see her. Talk about putting on a show for guy in charge. It was disgusting, but at least she stopped.
Moving on, after supper I was visited by an unlikely guest, Pelimliwa. He had come the night before and I wasn’t expecting him. I had previously stopped by his house upon my return only to find out that he was at his garden (really far away). It was a nice visit and an appropriate ‘last student’ to see.
Back at Agbang (I drove the moto both ways and through the city and incidentally broke just about every traffic rule, what few there are. I only ended up going into oncoming traffic twice!) I was greeted at supper by just about every monk in the community and a nice little going away speech from the prior all before sitting down to a feast of a meal made specially for the occasion. Everyone was all smiles save the beady-eyed woman who had to stand and listen to it all before sitting down to eat it. Win? Yep! It was very satisfying after putting up with her for the past month considering that she is leaving on the same day as I am The hotelier wasn’t into the speech too much either, but that wasn’t completely unexpected.
On the subject of the woman, the day before she was singing rather loudly outside of my door. It started right after breakfast and inconsequently right when I started cleaning my room and packing up. I had had it, not today on my last day here, and not for four straight hours…again. I went up to Johanas and made my case to ask him to ask her to stop. He agreed with me and then confessed that he was sick of her too. In his words, “This is a monastery, not a hotel. She has no right being here or ordering us around like she does, save she’s in the graces of the prior.” We found the surprior and he said that he would talk to her in a few minutes when he came to give me a list of needed medications. Well that wasn’t for about a half an hour. But he came, and almost as soon as he entered the monastery he heard her bellowing and sprinted to her to ask her to stop. She ignored him and then asked “Why? Because of my voice?” and continued even louder. American Idol candidate anyone? She won for the time being, but the prior showed up soon thereafter with some guests. She shut right up, before he could see her. Talk about putting on a show for guy in charge. It was disgusting, but at least she stopped.
Moving on, after supper I was visited by an unlikely guest, Pelimliwa. He had come the night before and I wasn’t expecting him. I had previously stopped by his house upon my return only to find out that he was at his garden (really far away). It was a nice visit and an appropriate ‘last student’ to see.
Round 2
Tonight, the night after the crash, I went out after dinner with Fr. Gregoire, the cook, her husband, her 3 year old son, and the father of Pelimliwa for one last Tchuc run. No, I did not take the moto. We walked and I got one last look at the Agbang market and the nightlife of tribal Africa. The company was good as was the Tcuch, although I could have done without a few encounters with some drunken villagers who seem to be under the impression that we are great friends. But no harm, no foul and at least I was able to say some more goodbyes even though they weren’t planned.
CRASH
So it wasn’t this huge 10 car pile-up or anything, but yes I crashed. Oops. At the time I was pretty surprised that I made it as far as I did without crashing considering the conditions…night, bad light, old motorcycle, sand, 2 people riding, and a belly full of chicken and beer. Adding that all up it makes me think that my decision making at the time was a little off! Before I go further, I should probably clarify that by crash I mean swirving a little in the sand, coming almost to a complete stop, and tipping over.
I’ll just go back to the beginning. Briefly, a former monk of Agbang invited Blaise and I to visit his house and his garden (5 times bigger than ours, but he has land next to the river). I made some time for it thinking it wouldn’t take long and I could profit from it at the same time by saying goodbye. As it turns out, he killed his biggest rooster to say thank you to me for visiting and also to keep me in good spirits hoping that I might be able to help him out one day. Later that night, Blaise and I snuck out during prayer to go meet him at a bar owned by Blaise’s parents in Agbebou. Thinking I could get away with drinking a coke, I toke the bike.
We got there just after nightfall and were greeted with a bowl full of a very deliciously prepared coq. Trying to be courteous I offered to buy some Tchuc, but the waitress said she couldn’t find any and brought us back a flask of wine (which is the equivalent of grape flavored vodka). Now that I think about it, that’s what did me in. Afterwards, the rounds of beer started coming in along with a phone call to the monk in charge of supper saying that I was visiting with friends and wouldn’t make it. Upon the second 1.5 liter bottle, I politely declined and was rewarded with only HAVING to drink half of it. Afterwards, I was offered a free bottle by the owner of the bar and had to defer the request to the following day (which never actually happened ). That was my trying to be responsible me. I knew my limits, but that darned vodka, ugh slipped my mind.
Blaise and I hit the gravel road cruising through the villagers who had yet to disperse from the evening market. En route, I felt pretty comfortable up until I heard Blaise start laughing his head off after telling me that I missed the turn. No worries, we went up to the Agbang market and hung a very w-i-d-e left. I was a little generous on the gas. Everything was going fine up until the school, at which point I became slightly worried having remembered the sand pits that litter and at points overtake the path. I made my way through the first few to realize that I ended up on the wrong end of a divide and was going to nail the big one instead of skim along side of it. Not wanting to overcorrect after the swerving started, I tried to keep ‘er straight, which worked! For the first half. Once I straightened out I celebrated a little too soon as almost instantly I swerved again and crashed.
Blaise was laughing the entire way down. So was I. I want to think that it was the beer that prevented me from feeling anything, but I am certain that part of it was the luck of landing directly in the middle of the sand pit. I escaped with nothing more than a 2 inch 2nd degree burn on my right ankle from landing on the exhaust pipe. Blaise was unharmed and still laughing as I told him that it was the beer driving and not I. We rolled into the monastery just after meal time and parted ways like nothing had happened. I returned to my room to find a timely received care package. What a night!
I’ll just go back to the beginning. Briefly, a former monk of Agbang invited Blaise and I to visit his house and his garden (5 times bigger than ours, but he has land next to the river). I made some time for it thinking it wouldn’t take long and I could profit from it at the same time by saying goodbye. As it turns out, he killed his biggest rooster to say thank you to me for visiting and also to keep me in good spirits hoping that I might be able to help him out one day. Later that night, Blaise and I snuck out during prayer to go meet him at a bar owned by Blaise’s parents in Agbebou. Thinking I could get away with drinking a coke, I toke the bike.
We got there just after nightfall and were greeted with a bowl full of a very deliciously prepared coq. Trying to be courteous I offered to buy some Tchuc, but the waitress said she couldn’t find any and brought us back a flask of wine (which is the equivalent of grape flavored vodka). Now that I think about it, that’s what did me in. Afterwards, the rounds of beer started coming in along with a phone call to the monk in charge of supper saying that I was visiting with friends and wouldn’t make it. Upon the second 1.5 liter bottle, I politely declined and was rewarded with only HAVING to drink half of it. Afterwards, I was offered a free bottle by the owner of the bar and had to defer the request to the following day (which never actually happened ). That was my trying to be responsible me. I knew my limits, but that darned vodka, ugh slipped my mind.
Blaise and I hit the gravel road cruising through the villagers who had yet to disperse from the evening market. En route, I felt pretty comfortable up until I heard Blaise start laughing his head off after telling me that I missed the turn. No worries, we went up to the Agbang market and hung a very w-i-d-e left. I was a little generous on the gas. Everything was going fine up until the school, at which point I became slightly worried having remembered the sand pits that litter and at points overtake the path. I made my way through the first few to realize that I ended up on the wrong end of a divide and was going to nail the big one instead of skim along side of it. Not wanting to overcorrect after the swerving started, I tried to keep ‘er straight, which worked! For the first half. Once I straightened out I celebrated a little too soon as almost instantly I swerved again and crashed.
Blaise was laughing the entire way down. So was I. I want to think that it was the beer that prevented me from feeling anything, but I am certain that part of it was the luck of landing directly in the middle of the sand pit. I escaped with nothing more than a 2 inch 2nd degree burn on my right ankle from landing on the exhaust pipe. Blaise was unharmed and still laughing as I told him that it was the beer driving and not I. We rolled into the monastery just after meal time and parted ways like nothing had happened. I returned to my room to find a timely received care package. What a night!
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