Kibera Resources

Curious to learn more about where I’m working? Check out The Constant Gardner, a 2005 Golden Globe nominee, which takes place in the famous slum, as does Kibera Kid, a relatively new movie that I’ve yet to see but have heard good things about.

Robert Neuwirth devotes a chapter of his book Shadow Cities to Kibera, and Michael Holman's 2005 novel Last Orders at Harrods is based in a fictional version of the slum, called Kireba. Bill Bryson visited Africa for CARE and wrote a companion book called "Bill Bryson's African Diary" which includes a description of his visit to Kibera.

-Compiled with help from Wikipedia

Twenty-first birthday, Kenya style

Twenty-one: by many American standards, the most important birthday celebration in one’s life: the final birthday of importance, the age of an official adult- there is nothing in the world you can’t do because of age-restrictions. When in a college-environment, it’s the best birthday you’ll never remember.

The 21st birthday in Kenya, however, has very little significance for multiple reasons. First, the drinking age is eighteen, not twenty-one. Secondly, the drinking age is not exactly enforced- most Kenyans begin drinking and going out around sixteen. Thirdly- birthdays hold very little importance here. You may get a card or two, and a gift of socks or some other necessity, but even cakes are rare and parties basically unheard of.

So for the actual holiday (9/8/10), I had very little expectations, and was quite satisfied with the day’s events. I shared a bottle of fine South African wine with my roommates at dinner, and then when out with my coworkers for my ‘first’ drink- a tequila sunrise. I wasn’t carded, no TOMBS stamp on my forehead- just good music, good drinks, and good company.

'Delicious' Long Island Ice Tea, thanks to Drew

Jeff, Johnson, Jos, myself and Drew celebrating at Sherlock's Den

The following weekend though, I had no problem telling every American I met at the bars that I had recently turned 21. Thanks to the kindness of strangers (and now friends), my initiation into adulthood is officially complete.

Hell's Gate

In the beginning of September, I received an email from my friend Kevin, asking if I would have any interest in going camping in near by Hell’s Gate National Park, and roasting a goat. Sounding like an amazing adventure, I naturally said yes.

Six of us hit the trail Saturday morning, hiking three hours along a road under clear skies with a slight breeze. We came across a few herds of Zebras and spotting the occasional warthog. We stopped for lunch at the ranger station where we were met by our guides for the next 24 hours, two Maasai warriors. They took us on a great hike through the gorge, before bringing us to their village. We spent the afternoon drinking tea with the elders and playing Frisbee (naturally) with the children. With time, the sky slowly clouded over, until around 6:00 the sky just opened up and didn’t close until morning.

Unfortunately- our campsite was still a two hour hike away. When we realized the skies weren’t going to lighten up, we grabbed our goat and a few more guides, and headed off to the caves- in the rain, and in the dark.

I will never, ever forget that hike. With three headlamps between the six of us, we made our way back into the gorge, slipping and sliding down rocks that felt more like waterfalls than paths. Trying to keep our feet dry became pointless as we trekked through four knee-deep rivers. I have never been that wet (and fully-clothed) in my life.

When we finally got to the caves, a fire had already been started, so we quickly changed and huddled around the heat. After the preparation of dinner (I’ll spare you the details) we enjoyed a spectacular feast of goat and ramen noodles, and even made makeshift (birthday) s’mores. We listened to the ten Maasai warriors sing and share stories of their lives while sharing a few bottles of rum. After most of the hikers had fallen asleep, one of the Maasai took Daniel and I to teach us how to shoot his bow and arrow. I didn’t have the strength to bend the bow- definitely a bit more stiff than what we used at camp in Wisconsin.

As I was falling asleep, I could hear women and girls chanting in the cave down the gorge from us. We were told they were connecting Planet Earth with Mother Universe. The songs mixed in with the sounds of the pouring rain left me with goose bumps for the rest of the night.



Children in the village playing with birthday horns Kevin handed out. The video is off the children singing a rain song, but I'm having trouble getting it to work.

Kampala

A couple weeks into my stay in Nairobi, we all received an email inviting Team Kenya to participate in an Ultimate Frisbee tournament in Kampala, Uganda. The week before the event unfortunately no one had gotten their act together to make a team, but, seeing the opportunity to leave Nairobi for a weekend, renew my visa, travel to Uganda, and play Ultimate Frisbee for two whole days, I decided to go anyways.

Traveling on a budget always makes life a bit more interesting. I took the bus rather than fly (only twelve hours) and seriously enjoyed having the time to myself to sit back and reflect on the past three months. I also saved some bills by staying with the tournament director and his family for the weekend. Although originally from Rwanda, they had been playing Ultimate in Kampala for over ten years. Friday night we stayed up way too late talking American sports and the importance of athletics.

The tournament itself was an interesting experience. There were six teams and about 75 participants from around the globe- Uganda was heavily represented, but there was also a team from Rwanda, and players scattered throughout from Sudan, the UK, Germany, the states, Mexico, and Colombia.

My team went undefeated on Saturday, but celebrated a bit too hard, and were completely destroyed on Sunday (oh well). Loosing aside, I am really glad I went, just to experience the Ultimate. As I mentioned previously- the sport normally has an atmosphere of cooperation rather than competitiveness. But this tournament took Ultimate to a whole new level- never have I participated in a more intense series of games. Many rules were contested and debated, with one disagreement resulting in a fist-fight, something unheard of back in the states. It definitely left me with enough to think about on the twelve-hour drive home.

Team All-stars

Ultimate Community

Ultimate Frisbee- you are probably wondering- isn’t that the sport wanna-be-hippies play, the college students who were born twenty years too late? Why yes, it is. But it is quickly becoming much more than that- around the world thousands of players are competing at local, national and global levels. With more of a cooperative atmosphere than a competitive one (it is self-regulated- no referees, no umpires), the sport is quickly catching on.

So quickly, in fact, that I wasn’t half surprised to find a team in Nairobi. I discovered the group online, sent the director an email, and showed up to practice within a week of being in the city.

Back at Georgetown, my ultimate team is my family- I would do anything for any of the girls and vice-versa (like, remember my birthday when I'm not even on the same continent). They are my best friends, and I couldn’t imagine spending college with any other group. Naturally, I was nervous going to the first practice here- my expectations for ultimate teams were set pretty high. Luckily I wasn’t disappointed when I was immediately accepted by the Friday night crew- about ten players from the ex-pat community in their late 20’s to early 40’s. I went out with a few of the players that night, and to a house party the next. Recently I’ve found a group of friends closer to my age, but I appreciate the immediate community nonetheless.

With a mixture of Embassy workers, UN employees, and many in the non-profit world, I spend a few hours every weekend hanging with my idols- the people I want to be in ten years. It is difficult not to pound the players with questions as we’re running up and down the field. It is about 80% male, and about 80% American. I am easily the youngest by about five years. The level of play is good, with a mixture of beginners and extremely experienced. Two of the women, ages not to be mentioned, are slightly faster than me- making it challenging yet enjoyable to keep up with. It is such a cool experience and I am so glad I found the team.

We play on Fridays at the UN recreation field- on real grass surrounded by barbed wire. On Sundays, when we have on average about twenty players, we play at the International School Kenya- the most gorgeous campus I have ever been on. The setting and the team places Frisbee time in a completely different world- with the exception of being outrun by the occasional Kenyan and the altitude, it is hard to believe I am still in Nairobi.

First Business Card

I am the proud owner of my first business card! Besides my name being misspelled and occasional awkward formatting, I am pleased!

That's not my name

After twenty-one years of life, I have gotten every single response to my name, nothing surprises me anymore. But Kenya has put a new spin on things. It’s not the gender relationship that confuses them, but the actual name. Apparently Saint Brendan never got around to spreading his influence south of the equator. The name aside, Kenyans are also rather creative in the attention-grabbing name-calling. Sometimes I even know they’re talking to me. Here’s a collective list of things I’ve been called over the past few weeks:

Boyfriend
Brandy
Brandon
Breden
Brenda
Brenden
Brother
Dada (sister, Swahili)
Girl
Girlfriend
Lady
Madam
Meghan
Miss Babe
Mzungu (white person)
Obama
Sista
Sister Obama
Teacher
Wife
Woman

From the Bottom

It’s not that I’ve been trying to hide from the world- I love sharing stories and have enjoyed keeping blogs in the past. It’s not a time issue either. Yeah, internet is limited, but I have my laptop, and should be constantly typing and wouldn’t be that difficult to post every week or so.

Ironically what has kept me from keeping a blog is my increasing love for writing. Unfortunately, the more I write, the more I edit, and eventually come to the conclusion that if it is not my best work, it shouldn’t be shared.

With increasing pressure from friends and family, I finally gave in creating a site (about a month ago). Now that I’ve written a few pieces I am ready to share with the world, it is time to go public. Entries cover everything from people to places to stories to food, and everything else culture. I also have enjoyed using a variety of writing styles, keeping it interesting for me and the reader.

My biggest advice about reading these entries is not to try to sit down and conquer- a) you’ll appreciate stories more when you read them one at a time; b) no one should have enough time or interest to read about me for more than five minutes. Exceptions to clause b if you’re sitting in an economics class, you’ve read all the TFLN for the day, or you’re still looking for that one more excuse to procrastinate.

That, and start from the bottom up. Although my most recent post on Nairobi housing is intriguing, life will make more sense if you go in chronological order- starting with the entry ‘In the Beginning’ and going up.

Karibu Sana!


(photo taken while camping in a cave in Hell's Gate National Park, Kenya. Food in hand is freshly roasted goat)

Housing

I started my stay in Nairobi at the Ufungamano Christian Leadership Center. Although well located near town center on the University of Nairobi’s campus, I will never set foot in that place again. With a list of over twenty rules posted to the back of the bedroom door, a curfew of 10:00 pm, and after being scorned for not attending Sunday service, I realized the place was not exactly the best fit.

A week into my stay, I moved over to the Sandavy guest house, upon recommendation of my friend David, who had spent some time in the city before. The house was perfect- there was always a stream of people coming and going from around the world, the staff was the friendliest I have ever interacted with, and the food was great. Plus, there was wireless internet. Unfortunately the house was out of my budget for long-term stay, but if you were ever in Nairobi for a brief period of time, there is no place else I would rather stay.

Towards the end of August I started looking at the bulletin board at a local mall for furnished apartments. The first number I called had posted looking for a single roommate, preferably female. I went over to the apartment, only a five minute walk from the mall, and immediately knew I had found yet another home away from home: my bedroom is huge, the entire apartment was spotless, and in the pantry was five boxes of wine and Skippy peanut butter. Not to mention two great roommates, a Kenyan couple in their late 20’s who are self-employed tutors who offer preparation for the SAT, ACT, TOFEL, and other standardized tests.

Evenings have been spent watching Big Brother All-stars and teaching me how to cook traditional Kenyan meals. In addition to the staples of rice and beans, I’m close to mastering Ugali, a silly-putty like flavorless substance. One day Jack and Shi may even trust me enough to cook the meat. Maybe.

Workshop

From 9:00-12:00 for a week, Drew, another intern, and I led our twenty-one high school scholars in a workshop on the college application process, both Kenyan and American. We also covered essay writing, interview skills, and the topic of financial aid. I can easily say I learned just as much from these students as they did from me. During our first icebreaker, we asked them to introduce themselves and answer the question, ‘which super power do you wish you had any why?’ after Drew and I gave our answers of flying and invisibility, respectively. Zainab, one of the students, followed with ‘I wish I could travel in time so that I could go back and prevent discrimination from ever beginning’. Not exactly your typical 14-year-old answer.

For the essay-writing portion, we asked the students to explain who they are through a story. Essay topics varied from heartbreaking recollections of the 2007 post-election violence to the joyous moments of receiving their secondary school scholarship, and even others simply sharing stories of daily life in Kibera. One of the students, after telling a moving story about avoiding gang violence, concluded, “I never lost hope because at the back of my mind I knew that with hard work, determination, and optimism, I’ll pursue my dream career and prove them wrong that even slum children have dreams that they can pursue if they have an opportunity to go to school.”

Over the last few weeks, I’ve enjoyed doing one-on-one sessions with all of the students, and using the College Board college match program to find each student a list of five schools they should consider applying to, then going through Princeton Review’s Top 365 Schools to get even more detailed profiles. With new goals in mind, the students returned to school with even more determination to finish at the top of their classes.

Children of Kibera

The Children of Kibera Foundation was created by Ken Okoth, a Georgetown grad and the director of CIIE Dar es Salaam. Ken had helped us all settle into Tanzania, sharing cultural norms, helping us buy cell phones and other necessities, and even traveling with us occasionally. He offered an invitation to intern with his organization in Nairobi, dealing with education in the slums. At the time I was still waiting to hear back from the United Nations, the organization I had originally planned and hoped to be interning for. During the month leading up to August I still had yet to hear either a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ from the UN, so I sent Ken an email, asking if the position was still available.

And I am glad it was. Not just because I now actually have something to do while in Nairobi, but also because the organization has been a good fit. With such a small staff, there has been a good balance between structure and freedom with projects. Instead of simply making photocopies all day or filing things for other people, I get to do what I want, with only the bare minimum of guidance. For example, my first week at the office, my boss told me I would have the secondary school scholars for a week, and that I should plan a workshop for them. With that, I took it and ran (see entry above) in the direction of college applications, a concern a few of the students had shared upon meeting me.

The Children of Kibera Foundation focuses on education in Kibera, Africa’s largest slum. In addition to funding a primary school, it sponsors 20 of the slum’s top high school students to attend the country’s best schools. The organization also helps schools and other organizations open up technology labs throughout Kibera. Our most recent addition at Ayany public school will be one of my main projects.

Although I came onto this organization planning on doing more administrative work, I could never actually let go of teaching completely. Once a week I have been teaching a dance class to the junior high students, and we’ll have the opportunity to perform for an audience the first weekend of October! One of my main projects also involves teaching the teachers at Ayany basic computer knowledge (more to come on this). During the break I tutored our secondary school scholars in English, though this didn’t last long, considering my lack of understanding of many grammar rules (who versus whom, for example) and the lack of connection I felt with the students’ teachers (“you shouldn’t have gotten this wrong” was a common phrase while going over exams). By the end of the break, we were going more the creative writing route- writing stories and editing them to better please the audience.

Transition

School built, bags packed, and passport ready: it was time to cross the border. I had been looking forward to the seven-hour bus ride, the start of yet another chapter, though I cannot say I was exactly ready. I arrived in Nairobi at 9:00 pm on July 28 with no map, no guidebook, and no phone. I had the phone numbers of two family friends, neither of whom I had ever met.

During the drive I couldn’t help but create theories as to why I was traveling so ill prepared. Obviously the first one was stupidity. But beyond that, I believe there is a correlation between the amount of traveling and sense of adventure. The more I travel, the more difficult it is to encounter unexpected events, things that test my problem-solving skills. Why travel if everything is going to go smoothly?

Anyways, one of the family friends, Edward, met me at the bus, took me out to my first meal in Kenya, and helped me move into a guesthouse. By the end of the weekend, I was ready for work and to begin the next chapter on Monday.