I didn't make too many assumptions about what life would be like here, but a few things have surprised me. For one, most Kenyans dress better on a daily basis, than a Catholic going to Sunday Mass in the US. I can say this without reservation or judgement because I was raised Catholic and went to my fair share of masses. That means that I don't see wife beaters or shorts, mostly the men are in button ups and khakis while the females vary a lot more in their style. Two, the grocery stores are way too western in that they are large with way too many options. It gives me the same overwhelming shopping experience I get in the states. Three, as with many places, the quest for work drives people to come to the city. Thus, many people here maintain a home as well as their job here in Kisumu , but they also have a rural home where their family lives. We were fortunate enough to go visit the rural home of our lead mason at the Rescue Center name Patrick.
This journey started out as mostly every one does here in Kisumu, in the back of a matatu. A matatu is equivalent to the tap tap in Haiti, the maxi taxi in Trinidad, or the bus in Jamaica. They are mini buses with a specific route, and they are our main source of transportation here. For 20-30 shillings, you can get to anywhere in town with a fair amount of ease.
On this day, Camila, myself, and Patrick pack into the matatu. Honestly, that is the only thing you will ever do when getting into a matatu, pack in. It's 11 am so again the prime heat is just starting, and we are packed in so tight that we have virtually merged into one body, each with one arm free. Those arms soon take on a mind of their own (as the only body part free for movement) moving to the beat of the dancehall and african music being blasted. The kids and parents next to us keep looking over and half smiling/ laughing at us for attempting to start a dance party in the back row. It is so tight that we need that kind of distraction to make it through the 2 hour bus ride that lay ahead.
This journey started out as mostly every one does here in Kisumu, in the back of a matatu. A matatu is equivalent to the tap tap in Haiti, the maxi taxi in Trinidad, or the bus in Jamaica. They are mini buses with a specific route, and they are our main source of transportation here. For 20-30 shillings, you can get to anywhere in town with a fair amount of ease.
On this day, Camila, myself, and Patrick pack into the matatu. Honestly, that is the only thing you will ever do when getting into a matatu, pack in. It's 11 am so again the prime heat is just starting, and we are packed in so tight that we have virtually merged into one body, each with one arm free. Those arms soon take on a mind of their own (as the only body part free for movement) moving to the beat of the dancehall and african music being blasted. The kids and parents next to us keep looking over and half smiling/ laughing at us for attempting to start a dance party in the back row. It is so tight that we need that kind of distraction to make it through the 2 hour bus ride that lay ahead.
We arrive and it's my first time out of Kisumu since arrival which is refreshing. Compared to Kisumu there are only dirt roads here, and farm lands stretch and stretch beyond my ocular strength. We jump on a motorcycle or what the Kenyan's call a "piki piki" for approximately 20 minute ride down the road kicking up dust as we went. We arrive to be greeted by kids and chickens playing in the yard. We are taken inside to shield from the sun and chat with Patrick, his brother, and neighbor while his wife prepared a meal for us. The children each politely walked in and shook our hands in greeting, which reminded me of The Sound of Music. He has eight children of which only one has moved out of the home, the youngest just several months old is strapped to the back of one of the girls who is perhaps 8 years old.
Finally, the sun takes its 3 pm break creating some shade and we start strolling through the grounds. Several of the children follow behind silently. I didn't even notice them for several minutes, not only had they not really said any words, but they were stealthily quiet. I snap some photos of them. Later on, I realize how impressed I was by their behavior. They weren't loud, running, screaming for more photos, or even trying to take any attention for themselves. We got the official tour, complete with animal introductions, their man made water reservoir, lessons in botany, and cultural traditions for families and children here. The most interesting of the cultural lessons dictated that the first son must build his house with his wife in front of his fathers house and to the right, while the next son will follow with his house to the left, and it will continue to alternate. The second son cannot marry before the first. We even meet his mother who lives in a home nearby on the same property.
They rolled out the red carpet for us, thus we ate like kings and queens. The food was delicious and bountiful. No amount of "i'm full" statements were going to stop the food from coming, so we had to keep eating. Or at least that is what i'm telling myself. In a household bannered with Chelsea posters, it was all but funny to bring up Manchester United and Arsenal, but we all found a way to take some laughter from it.
We closed dinner, shared many parting words, bagged the fruits and avocados they had given us, and started on the path toward the main road. They walked along with us until we picked up the "piki piki" and started back to the bus stop. We hopped off the bikes and Camila looked up at me laughing. I was now a slightly different shade due to the new layer of sand and dust that now covered my face, even weighing on my eyelashes enough that blinking was no longer unconscious and effortless.
On the matatu ride back, I could not tell you what music played. I was full, tired, and as comfortable as comfort can be in the front of the bus. Camila and I talked briefly about their amazing generosity, how beautiful the children are, and how glad we are to have Patrick working with us. Patrick, like many people here, have a few different jobs in order to make money, but after lunch he still expressed his concerns over how to pay the school fees needed for all his children.
We closed dinner, shared many parting words, bagged the fruits and avocados they had given us, and started on the path toward the main road. They walked along with us until we picked up the "piki piki" and started back to the bus stop. We hopped off the bikes and Camila looked up at me laughing. I was now a slightly different shade due to the new layer of sand and dust that now covered my face, even weighing on my eyelashes enough that blinking was no longer unconscious and effortless.
On the matatu ride back, I could not tell you what music played. I was full, tired, and as comfortable as comfort can be in the front of the bus. Camila and I talked briefly about their amazing generosity, how beautiful the children are, and how glad we are to have Patrick working with us. Patrick, like many people here, have a few different jobs in order to make money, but after lunch he still expressed his concerns over how to pay the school fees needed for all his children.
All things revolve around the ( Rescue Center) RC, so I got to bring it back. While there are five bathrooms in the center, there are also pit latrines outside. Latrines are typical here and we have been working on getting these completed after a delay due to our plumber being sick. He is well again and we were able to restart the work. Things are progressing and I will be able to bring you photos of the final product soon.
We have already raised close to $2000 for our weatherproofing needs at the RC. There is still time to donate here to help us reach our $6000 goal:
http://www.indiegogo.com/projects/race-to-beat-the-rain-help-us-finish-this-home-in-30-days
* Much credit to Camila for half of the beautiful photos of Patrick's family.
We have already raised close to $2000 for our weatherproofing needs at the RC. There is still time to donate here to help us reach our $6000 goal:
http://www.indiegogo.com/projects/race-to-beat-the-rain-help-us-finish-this-home-in-30-days
* Much credit to Camila for half of the beautiful photos of Patrick's family.