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.