Kenya Update

After about a month living here, I am finally getting around to writing an update. I apologize for taking so long, but rest-assured, life is good. Nairobi is not the threatening, nerve-racking city that I once thought it was. In fact, the Kenyan capital is a vibrant, interesting town, if not a bit of an urban mess.

The TechnoServe office here is quite impressive, and highly regarded in the community. My specific Millennium Village project is going well, and I have a good support system within the organization. I finished a proposed-grain bank business plan, and am in the midst of researching the banana value chain in the western part of the country. At the moment, I am sitting in Kisumu, the major city on the shores of Lake Victoria. The weather here is much different than in Nairobi; it is hot, and the lake provides plenty of humidity. Right now, there is a electricity outage for the entire day. Evidently this was planned, although no one told me. They are “upgrading” the power grid, and today is one of a series of Sundays planned to be electricity-free. So I am stuck in the only major hotel here; it has a generator.

Back in Nairobi, we live in a safe neighborhood called Westlands (we being me and my two flat-mates, a Korean and an Italian). It is quite the international flat. Within our two-building complex, there are anywhere between five and ten of us TechnoServe folk living. The complex can be very entertaining and social. In addition, the apartment is situated along the Nairobi River, at the bottom of an impossibly steep valley. The walk up the “driveway” is absolutely brutal.


View from our apartment balcony

It didn't take me long to rediscover why I love it here. My first weekend in-country, I was petting baby elephants at an orphanage and feeding giraffes at a research center.


Beth petting an orphaned baby elephant

Baby elephant feeding

Giraffes looking for food

Feed Me Please!

A sign at the Giraffe Center

After the giraffe-petting, a group of us proceeded to get very lost on a “nature hike” that was completely devoid of any signage. Ninety minutes after enthusiastically embarking on an expected 30-minute stroll, having only seen lots of large insects, we finally stumbled upon a couple of guards at an entrance to an estate (a private, guarded neighborhood). Having no idea where we were, we tried to explain to the guards what we were doing. They laughed.

Evidently we had long left the confines of the nature park. The guards said we were 5 km from where we should have been, and where our hired driver was patiently waiting, tallying up his continually-increasing bill. We called our driver, passed the phone to the one of the guards, who proceeded to mockingly explain what had happened and where we were. Eventually, we got home-a bit later than expected, and our wallets a bit lighter-but we got home.

Getting lost

Just this morning, I attempted to run in Kisumu's hot and humid weather. I tried to get up before it got too hot, and the temperature was actually quite pleasant. About half-way through my anticipated route, I heard footsteps behind me. Multiple footsteps. Kisumu is a pedestrian and bike filled town, and there happened to be many people out at that time in the morning, most going to church (I assumed, this being Sunday, and Kenya being an intensely religious country). So the thump-thump of the footsteps behind me didn't make me nervous, but they kept getting closer. Finally, the footsteps were next to me, and I turned to find four boys smiling, running with me. They were probably about ten years old. I asked them where they were going, and, of course, they were on their way to church.

So we continued running together for a while. I was already drawing looks from the people on the street. I was the only white person in sight, and I was wearing shorts-which is rare-and showing my embarrassingly pale Irish legs. Needless to say, people were already staring. Now, the white guy with ghostly legs had four boys running with him. This motley group actually caused people to stop in their tracks. A group of girls on the other side of the street stopped walking and giggled. A couple of bikers skidded to a halt and watched us as we passed. The boys loved it; I was mildly entertained as well. At least it took my mind off of the mounting agony that was caused by the running.

And this brings us to the really sad part of the story. These boys were running care free. They were talking to each other, laughing, jumping about, not bothered by the act of running what so ever. I, on the other had, was becoming less and less entertained by the boys, and more ticked-off at my lack of endurance. I was sweating profusely, gasping for humid dust-filled air, trying not to think of how far I had to go. Yet my ego prevented me from not keeping pace with the boys. To make matters worse, two of the boys were barefoot, one became barefoot when he decided to carry his sandals (really flip-flops), and the fourth was wearing leather shoes. I felt stupid in my trainers and running socks.

Finally-finally-the boys had to go straight, when I was turning right. We all shook hands, said goodbye, and I sent them on their way to church. After I made sure I was out of sight of the boys, I stopped running, gasped for air, and decided to walk the rest of the way home. I was even looking forward to the ice-cold shower that awaited me in my electricity-free guest house.