You get a net! Yo mama gets a net! EVERYBODY gets a net!

This is Brian he is in class 8.  He has 3 younger brothers.  At 14 years old he is the head of his house.  Brian and his brothers lost both parents to AIDS.  They have since had to drop out of school because they can’t pay the fees.  The boys have a few income generating activities they are trying.  As you can see in the picture they are raising rabbits to sell. 

This is Lillian.  She is living with HIV and a single parent to 4 children.  She teaches early child development at the local school. 

This mama is a caretaker for total orphans who have nowhere else to go.  I have run into this more times than I have wanted and yet, thankful for generous people willing to take in children that are not their own.

As you can see in this picture this family can only afford to send 4 of their 6 children to school.  You may have noticed that there is a set of twins.  How do you decide which twin gets an education and which one stays home to tend to the house?  Can’t be easy.

This little girl is 1 of 7 in a single parent household.  They live in a single room no bigger than a dorm room. 

Over the last 2 days I have visited 22 homes with field workers from an OVC (Orphans & Vulnerable Children) organization.   Many of the children are infected with HIV, but all of them are affected by it in some way, either they have lost a parent(s) or their parent(s) are living with HIV. 

I have been way out in the bush, hiking through weeds and thistles sometimes up to my waist earning the scratches on my arms and legs that I have acquired.  However, I was repaid with insanely gorgeous views from the hills. (Pictures just can't capture it.)

I will be passing out nets at least through the end of the year, thanks to some amazing people in Franklin. 

It has been interesting getting to sit and talk with so many, sharing stories, and educating on malaria and what it can cost (both monetarily and in lives.)

This week I have been to some homes of the poorest of the poor that I have seen in my district (and well probably in my 28 years.)  I still can’t get over 7 children plus a mother living in a space the size of my college dorm room.  At some point I have partially shut myself down.  I think you have to, to be able to witness these stories before your eyes over and over again.  At least for me it has been a necessary tool.  I have been coming home the past few weeks after handing out nets exhausted and I can’t say that it is entirely from the heat and all the walking. 

One of the things that is so good about working with this OVC association is that they have fieldworkers that will make visits to the homes to check on the kids.  They will also be checking that the mosquito nets have been hung and are being used.  You can pass them out and educate but can’t always be certain people are using them.  At least with these 700 kids we will be able to continue the malaria discussion and encourage the use of a bed net. 

I can only hope that these families will recognize how much they could save (not to mention the life of their child) if they just use their nets. 

Shout out to all my peeps in Franklin.  These are just a few of the people you are helping! 

Re-usable: So that means I can throw it away?

Every Wednesday I facilitate a training on the making of re-usable sanitary pads to a group of 25 girls.  When I have finished training all the girls at one school I move to the next.   Up until today I hadn’t run into any hesitation about the use of the pads.  In fact the majority have always been very excited about this option.  Most of the girls are ecstatic and have literally cheered at the idea of learning how to make the pads.  However, today I got some scowls and many questions.  This is a new concept for them…the re-usable part.  Even after explaining, I get asked at every training, while the girls are sewing, “so we throw this away after use?”   “No, no you wash them.”  Dear God that would be a lot of effort to make a pretty pad just to throw it away.  “Well, how do I wash it?”  “Just like you wash your clothes.”  “But with what?”  “With laundry soap.”  “So, I don’t throw it away?”  “No, it is re-usable.  Use it, wash it, use it again.  Please don’t throw it away”  “So I can wear it for 4 days?”  “Not 4 days straight.  Use it until you need to change it.”  “How long do I use it?”  “You have to gauge that, but until it is uncomfortable.  Change when you think you need to.” 

“Do you use these in America?”  Ouch that question hurts a bit and I feel guilty.  Not that I had any control of where I was born, or where they were born and how because where I was born I don’t have to worry about this, but I do I feel guilty.  How do I explain that no we don’t.  This isn’t an issue that our girls even have to think about.  “Sarah is this what you use?”  Swfikxvbcn, Can I just skip over that question.  And the guilt stabs me in the heart.  While I am living in their village and have adapted much to their lifestyle I am still fortunate enough to live differently. 

But here when the average girl and family cannot afford appropriate products the re-usable pad is an attempt to remedy that.  To the girls that weren’t on board with the whole re-usable part I asked, “Are you able to purchase Always sanitary pads?”   “No, we cannot afford them.”  “Ok, so what do you use?”  To that question I got…blankets, cotton, sponges, nothing we stay at home.  That is hard to hear and crushes the heart.   “Ok, well now you know how to make re-usable pads for yourself and you can purchase all the materials in the market for a fraction of the cost of all the materials you just listed to me.”   *It costs about 20 cents to make one pad and it’s RE-USABLE!  This is cheaper than blankets, cotton, and sponges and crafted for this. 

Some of the girls today were still not sure.  Behavior change can be disheartening and can get under your skin.   Makes me question if this project is effective, beneficial, a good use of my time or theirs, or if I’m just bringing one more thing to the forefront of how Americans don’t have to worry about such things.   It’s not fair.  But that’s how it is and I’m trying to change that at least a little.  Is this helpful?  I hope so.  In theory I believe it could be, but I can’t answer that just yet. 

(And no I’m not implying that Americans don’t have things to worry about.  I have many conversations with Kenyans explaining that no we [Americans] don’t all have everything and money isn’t just handed to us, and yes there are poor people, and homeless people, and hungry people in America.  Which shocks them and I’m not certain they believe me.)  And now I’m off topic.  That’s how I do. 

I’ve been away from America for a year now and living the village life and yet some days and conversations are still hard to stomach. 

Ever since I got home this evening I’ve been mulling over how I have never ever had to even think about using a sponge. 

No girl should ever have to.  And yet they do.  

One Year! Ahhhhh!

Luctor et Emergo.  I Struggle BUT Emerge!

So it has been a year you say!?  Huh.  This is a weird feeling.  Now that it has passed it seems like it has gone by really fast.   On the flipside of that, I’m thinking…Wait; I still have 14 more months of this.  Don’t get me wrong I am completely enjoying myself (mostly).  BUT and it is a big BUT (sing with me…I like big Butts and I cannot lie) I really should have someone proof read before I post.  What I am getting at is the PC is a rollercoaster…and it only knows extremes.  When things are going great, you own the world.  But when they aren’t you question everything about your decision to be here and what in the world are you doing, if anything besides watching way more tv (on your laptop) than you ever did in the States.  I knew coming into this that it would be hard.  PC tells you it is hard.  Full disclosure…it is.  (I wouldn't enjoy it if it were easy.)

You miss holidays and traditions with your family, you miss funerals of incredibly important people in your life, you miss important moments in your friend’s lives, and you miss the comforts and luxuries that we as Americans wouldn’t even call luxuries.  You see things here you wish you hadn’t.  You hear things you wish you could un-hear.  You witness students being hit with a stick.  You read statistics and then walk around your village knowing that horrible things like disease and rape are happening to your community members you see on a daily basis. 

Last week the mama that brings me water was digging through my trash when I walked in the kitchen.  It had scraps of old food.  She tied my trash bag up and took it home.  I sat in a daze for the next hour not even knowing how to process that. 

There are days that I wouldn’t want to be doing anything else in the world.  And then there are days that I would rather be doing anything but this.  Work is frustrating when people show up to meetings 2 hours late, you order mosquito nets and they arrive 3 months later after endless badgering.  (I am told my nets are en route and will be here today, but I’ve been told that before.)  It is frustrating when you get excuses like…we are Africans, we are so confused, we are lazy, and this is just how we are.  My American ideology has a difficult time with this.  Because things are on such a different pace here it makes doing the smallest amount of work a very productive day.  After filling out a report and sending 3 emails I have to give myself a pat on the back and say job well done.  When I have to go back to having a job in the States, I feel like ‘job well done’ will not be my boss’s sentiments to packing up and calling it a day after I send a few emails. 

The one-year mark is a great accomplishment, but with it I am jaded and I think that is what you are getting in this blog.  Sorry for that.

For the past month I’ve been having dreams about food.  Last night I had a dream about Chick-Fil-A, Taco Bell, McDonalds, Dunkin Donuts, and KFC.  It was like a progressive dinner with my family and friends.  The great thing about these dreams is they actually seem real.  I wake up feeling like I really ate the dozen donuts, a #1, #9, #12, and the family feast and that I hung out with my people back home.  The bad part is it will be a while until it actually is real.  But believe me that progressive dinner will be happening!

I have about 15 empty jars of peanut butter and jelly on my kitchen shelf at the moment.  I need to figure out what to do with them other than throwing them in the burn pile. 

I’ve read 32 books and am in the middle of 5 more. 

At a year in this is my life. 

I’ve been writing some classes back home about Kenya and my experience.  One of the teachers, who is also a friend of mine, told me that her kids asked, why I am in Kenya?  It made me laugh because I ask myself this as well. 

All kidding aside, even though I am living without some things I’ve grown accustomed to, I have and am so much more because of this experience. 

I wouldn’t trade this.  

So here’s to the 365 days that have gone and here’s to the next 83 jars of pb&j.  To the next 12 books I start and never finish, the next trillion episodes of Parks & Rec. New Girl. MadMen. How I Met Your Mother. And every other show I get my hands on. 

Shall we go for another 14 months, Kenya!

***My nets arrived today, with another shipment arriving next week!!!  So I am on top of the world! 

Let me catch you up...

A couple weeks ago I went to a nearby pcv’s site for a sheep slaughter.  This is dinner being prepared.

I’ll spare you the next stages and won’t post the photos that followed.  I will tell you that dinner was delicious.   But before that there was an appetizer…

So in that bowl is cooked sheep’s blood.  I attempted to partake after a friend claimed it was good and like something he had eaten before.  Let me give you my write up on it…  I choked to the nearest bush and spit it up.  Ummm ya .  I don’t know what he is eating but that’s not like anything I have ever eaten before.  But hey I gave it a go. 

Last weekend a bunch of us traveled to a friend’s site, which is on an island in Lake Victoria, to help with a girl’s camp.  We taught over 100 girls how to make reusable sanitary pads, shared about water sanitation and basic hygiene, passed out waterguard to treat the water, had lunch and a dance party.  It was a good time. 

The next day we took a boat out to another island with white sand for a little R&R. 

 My friend Mildred has saved me a space at her home so I can have my own shamba.  

Locally I can only get tomatoes, onions, and kale.  So I have planted green beans, broccoli, cilantro, hot peppers, peas, green and red peppers.  This will add soooooo much to lunch and dinner options.  I seriously can’t tell you how, such a simple thing as this, will change my world (If they grow).   Behind me in the pic are my green beans!  They are growing!  What What.  Check me out now, Green Giant.

At the moment I am working with some group members in my village to identify people who need a treated malaria net.  The kids at my church back home are learning about malaria and the church family has decided to raise money to supply malaria nets in my village.  I’m psyched to be a part of this cross-cultural exchange.  Many orphans have been identified to receive a net - like this sweet girl.

This project will keep me busy going around to homes to install and discuss the proper use of the nets.  I was told the first bulk order of nets have arrived and will be diving in next week.  More on that later. 

To all my peeps back home thanks for keeping up with me.  I love you and miss you so.

BAMM - Blog About Malaria Month

BAMM – Blog About Malaria Month.  So I got a late start.  No surprise there.  But I’m on it now.  Actually you might remember I had malaria just a few short months ago.  I blogged about it so in a sense I was ahead of the BAMM game.   Go ahead High-5 me!  Because I just did!

World Malaria Day is April 25^th!  I am having a WMD event and will let ya know how it goes.   Watch for that.  You best believe I’m coming at malaria with a vengeance.  It did a number on me.  Many of you have continued to ask how I’m doing and let me assure you that I have been back to 110% for a while now.  Enough about me; lets talk malaria.  Stick with me on this. 

Malaria is caused by a parasite that is passed from one human to another by the bite of infected Anopheles mosquitoes. After infection, the parasites (called sporozoites) travel through the bloodstream to the liver, where they mature and release another form, the merozoites. The parasites enter the bloodstream and infect red blood cells.

Symptoms

-Flu-like symptoms – to the max! -Anemia -Shaking Chills -Coma 
-Convulsions -High Fever -Headache -Muscle pain –Nausea –Sweating -Vomiting

I’m not one for throwing out statistics.  I don’t like how it reduces a person to a number.  But I am about to list stats because I want there to be a grasp of the situation at hand. 

The CDC estimates that there are 300-500 million cases of malaria each year, and more than 1 million people die from it.

On average, 1,500 cases of malaria are reported every year in the United States, even though malaria has been eradicated in this country since the early 1950's.

3.3 billion people (half the world’s population) live in areas at risk of malaria transmission in 109 countries and territories.

35 countries (30 in sub-Saharan Africa and 5 in Asia) account for 98% of global malaria deaths.

Malaria is the 5th cause of death from infectious diseases worldwide (after respiratory infections, HIV/AIDS, diarrheal diseases, and tuberculosis).

Malaria is the 2nd leading cause of death from infectious diseases in Africa, after HIV/AIDS.

Malaria is one of the leading causes of morbidity and mortality in Kenya and it kills an estimated 34,000 children under five in Kenya every year.

77% of Kenya’s population lives in areas where the disease is transmitted.

25 million out of a population of 34 million Kenyans are at risk of malaria.

An estimated 170 million working days are lost to the disease each year in Kenya.

The most vulnerable group to malaria infections are pregnant women and children under 5 years of age.

Malaria is preventable and treatable

An estimated 655,000 people died of malaria in 2010

Malaria deaths have fallen by more than 25% since 2000

Malaria costs Africa $12 billion annually

Malaria is a huge burden on a community.  It steals time, money, and lives. 

Peace Corps has 3,000 volunteers in 23 countries working to end malaria.

A pretty awesome group of kids I used to work with back in the States will be learning about malaria and raising money to purchase malaria nets during VBS (Vacation Bible School) this summer.  I am partnering with them and will be buying and distributing malaria nets to members of my community in Namboboto.  I will say more on this to come in the summer. 

When you see this…

I don’t care how you get rid of it…stomp it, squash it, smack it, slap it, crush it, spray it, mash it, punch it, end it. 

Stats and information came from these sites. 

cdc.gov

USAID.gov

Malarianomore.org

Healthnytimes.com

All Work and No Play...Or Quite the Opposite

I’m not gonna lie, I’ve been living the life and have been spoiled for the better half of the last 2 weeks.  During the last week of March - Four of us Public Health volunteers spent 3 days in a workshop, in Nairobi, with members of the PC Staff to refocus the Public Health Sector.  We also spent a chunk of time planning the next PST (Pre-Service Training) for the next group of trainees coming in June.  (Wait!  That was me a year ago…has it already almost been a year since I was worrying how in the world I was going to pack for 2 years in under 80lbs.!?)

Let me define spoiled for you.  King size bed, hot shower, delicious food – salad with lettuce (haven’t had that since the States.) Steak and cheese subs, Meat skewers, and yes Bacon Cheeseburgers!  My stomach hurt after every meal.  Worth it every time and I’d do it again.  I’m just not used to eating this food anymore. 

A lot of Mango iced tea was consumed.  I was nearly teary eyed when there was ice in my iced tea!  (It had been 10 months since ice and I had met last.)  It’s the little things in life. 

The planning sessions went great and I was glad to be a part. 

I then traveled to Nanyuki, near Mt. Kenya, where a handful of us went to an animal orphanage.  I’m gonna be lazy and let the pics tell you about that…

During Easter, 20 of us traveled to Uganda to take on the Nile – rafting and bungee jumping!  I don’t know if I’ve ever been so scared in my life while having so much fun.  Rafting was a blast. And the Nile is no joke. 

 Sure there were parts where we cruised along, sprawled out on the raft to sun bathe, jumped in and splashed around allowing the Nile to carry us.  And then…come the rapids.  At one point our guide told us to paddle, close our eyes, continue to paddle and then open our eyes.  When we opened our eyes there was a 90 ft rapid in front of us.  Ok I’m exaggerating on that but here was a ginormous wave crashing down on us.  It was wicked awesome.  Our raft together decided at one rapid that we wanted to flip.  In fact it was known that if we went down this rapid called the bad place we would flip.  All of us wanted to do it but would question the others to make sure they wanted to.  What we were doing was looking for an out, but none of us wanted to be the reason we didn’t do it.  We all put our brave faces on and pulled up our big girl panties.  Normally our guide Cam, who we at first thought his name was Camel and yes we were calling him Camel,  (c’mon he loved it) normally he told us to hang on to the raft and don’t let go.  At this rapid he instructed not to even try to hold on. 

Not even 5 seconds, ok maybe I lasted 2, but I was thrown from the front of the raft to the middle and on the opposite side taking out another girl.  In the next 20 seconds the rapids tossed and turned me, threw me, churned me and mostly dunked me.  The Nile had its way with me that’s really the point here.  When the safety kayak took me back to the raft I climbed in with a bruised and swollen foot. 

Backing up a week, I had already injured this foot.  I wish there was a good story that I kicked a rock and made water flow from it or that a motorcycle ran over it.  Not the case.  I tripped while walking and twisted it.  Leaving me with an over-sized foot and swag in my step.  Update: I still have swagger when I walk but the swelling has since peaced out and the bruises are nearly gone. 

I’ve been rafting a few times before and typically I would say ah I’ve done that before let’s do something new.  But the Nile -  I would raft that again in a heart beat.  It’s intense.  And in this picture little did we know this part was just for babies, but great introduction by the Nile. 

So bungee jumping hasn’t ever been on my list.  I figured I crossed off skydiving about 4 years ago.  But I will be anxiously waiting the next time I’m harnessed in and get to jump again.  The scariest part was climbing the steps and then inching towards the ledge with your toes hanging off.   The comes the 3-2-1- countdown and everything shuts off and you just jump for it.  For the next few seconds you are trying to figure out what in the world is going on as you are springing up and down and then you are hanging there until you are in the raft getting unstrapped from the equipment and you wanna jump again.  (At least that was my go of it) It was insane and my thrill seeking days have been reborn with this weekend.

After jumping, I got a massage and sat in the steam room.  It was nice being pampered for a little while.  Quite a change from village life.  Then a group of us took a boat out to the source of the Nile.  It was a good time jam-packed with friends, GOOD food, being scared out of my mind, ya it was a relaxing time. 

Now it’s back to the village and back to playing…or the opposite! 

I've got Sense, Yo.

Ok so this blog was per a friend’s request that I write about using my 5 senses in my village.  Little known fact: I actually have 6.  Ok, that’s a lie.  So here’s my two cents on the 5 senses.  (Seriously, why do you people even read my lameness on here!?) 

Senses.  Let’s do this. Shall we.

                        Hearing:

Roosters start sounding the alarm at 4am and continue for the next few hours making sure that no one is sleeping past sunrise.  (I want to fry them all up Buffalo Wild Wings Style.) 

                       

                         I live on a tiny 1-strip market street of my town…So…

-Metal shop clanking is constant. 

-Babies crying while sitting with their mamas selling sugarcane, tomoto, onion, and omena (dried minnows, basically)

-Girls primary school to the left of my house so I can hear counting 1-100, repeating memorized answers, and high shrills during games time

-Many times they will have events in town with blown speakers that drowned out my choice of music for the next 5 hours.

           

                                    Taste:

Had porridge for the first time…it tastes like if you were to make a grits shake.  So better than I had expected.  Though I won’t miss this or make it for myself, but also won’t refuse it when it is given to me.  If it sits for a minute it grows a film on the top.  This is gross. I’m a textured eater and my buds of taste don’t like it. 

Omena- This is the one I thought I would lose it on.   Again textured eater.  In their defense they aren’t as bad as I thought and I am basing this on the fact that I didn’t puke.  Which is a miracle if you know me.  The girl who has somehow managed to throw up on herself, twice while being behind the steering wheel.  (This of course was in America.  Not allowed to drive here.) Did I paint that picture beautifully enough for you.  But seriously can you imagine being the car next to me.  Looking over and seeing chunks hitting the dash, windshield, steering wheel, and lets not forget me!  Pole Sana for that.  I’m very sorry.  I really should think about who reads this.  (But do you see what I’m doing there.  I’m trying to lose readers so I don’t have to BLOG.) 

Ok so the omena they were surprisingly crunchy.  Not so surprisingly fishy tasting.  The key is chew once and get that sucker down as fast as possible.  No reason to savor the flavor here.  And if you can help it don’t look in their eyes as you pop them in your mouth.   It messes with you.  Thanks for attending Omena eating 101.

Sight:

A lot of green and brown going on.  When I first arrived to site I was amazed by how green and lush the area was.  Now it is dry season and it is dusty dusty dusty.  Nothing but dust.  The dust storms are crazy wicked.  I’m thankful for the wind during the dry season but sweating and dust being blown on me not the best combination.  The dust gets in my house and turns everything orange.  Sweeping and dusting are a daily chore.  The crops and fields are mostly shades of brown right now. 

My site has many hills, which make it nice to look at. 

Really though, I’m the site to be seen here.  Ya, I said it.  No but seriously, I live in a fish bowl.  Sometimes its fun, but it can also get rather annoying.  I miss the days I could walk outside and go unnoticed.  The days in America where you could blend and no one cared what you were doing and left you to your business.  Of course, I’m sure I will have days when I return that I miss 100 kids running towards me shouting my name.  So for now I will enjoy the heck out of it. 

                                    

                                    Smell:

So this one really depends on where you are as to what you smell.  I have passed some places that reek so bad I’ve almost puked.  The other day my sense of smell played a mean trick on me.  There was an aroma of BBQ ribs.  For one second I was in heaven until I realized, it was in no way BBQ and it would be 17 months till I could sink my teeth into ribs.   (Yes, I will continue to whine about food for the next 17 months.  We’ve got a long journey ahead of us.  Buckle up.)

Not a lot of deodorant usage going on.  So when you do get that rare whiff of someone who is wearing cologne its like an instant attraction.  Pheromones people. 

I love it when it rains.  Always a refreshing smell. 

                                   

                                    Touch:

Hmmm not sure where to go on this one.   The grass feels crunchy.  The tree bark feels like…you guessed it, tree bark.   Allow me to mention again how the kids try to rub the white off my arms and love to pet my hair.  

This is my hairdresser.  She makes sure I look gooooooood!

Sometimes this can be dangerous.  I mean really.  When I’ve got a whole school encircling me it’s like a mob.  My glasses have been knocked off and I’ve lost my shoes in the process of trying to break free before the stampede of primary school students tramples me. 

 I wasn’t going to do it.  But I will be brave and march on to be completely lame and note how my time here observing and being invited into the homes and another culture, this whole experience is touching me.  Beyond my capacity of even knowing… I am extremely blessed. 

This could be dangerous but I’m gonna throw it out there because I laugh in the face of danger.  That’s what I say.  (Actually, Simba said that.)  I honestly don’t know if I can post this blog.  I’m in a weird mood today.  I’m blaming it on the fact that I’m drunk on Gatorade.  Haven’t had the Gator since last June.  But I just got a package of it!!!! 

So back to walking on the wild side.  If there is something you want me to make a post about HollerAtYerGirl.  I will give it my best efforts.  And I won’t drink a liter of Gatorade before posting it.  I think I’ve learned my lesson with this post.  (Also, can someone check to see if Gatorade will send me free Gatorade since I have mentioned Gatorade like 10 times in the last 18 seconds. 

One last thing I realize I haven’t posted on the actual work aspect of what I’m doing here.  That is coming soon.  Next month.  I promise.  Scouts honor.  (I was never a scout so does that even count?)