Instruments from Riley Hospital for Children!

I am so thankful for the instrument donations from the Creative Arts Therapies Dept at Riley Hospital for Children!! I've been taking them around with me and have had a great response. The kids at the HIV/AIDS shelter I go to on Wednesdays especially loved them.  They saw me coming with a box and immediately all wanted to know what was in the box. I had them sit down in a row (there were 7 or 8 girls that day, I think) and I explained what each instrument was, and demonstrated how to play it. We had tons of shakers, small drums, a colorful baby rainstick, a triangle, and several others.  I set them out one by one on the table and the girls just could not even wait to grab them. The looks of curiosity and sheer excitement were so heart-warming.  You'd have thought it was Christmas morning--they've never seen such brightly colored, well made instruments before. So after I'd explained how to play each one I said, "Ready, GO!" and let all of them pick one to play.  We proceeded to JAM. I mean, full on JAM session. We sang a ton of the songs that I'd taught them, and also plenty of swahili songs that they've taught me, and it was just so much fun. We would all trade instruments every couple of songs so that everyone got to try out each different instrument.  

These girls are so resilient.  They've been burned by every level of society, and have learned to trust no one.  All of them are HIV positive, and most are or were also neglected, abused, and abandoned.  They have no possessions, and no family that cares for them.  But they have each other, and those are some of the strongest bonds I've ever seen.  Sarah Ellen Mamlin has done an incredible job of setting up this shelter. She has a full time teacher, several women who cook and clean and live there with the women and girls, and Social Workers and other help that check in periodically.  She somehow manages to bring them joy through clothing donations, cookies that she's made in her own kitchen, or new school notebooks here and there.  I can't tell you how good it feels to be able to provide such a fun, inspirational and therapeutic couple of hours to such neat young women. They are so grateful every time I come, somehow I think they're letting me in. So rewarding. Here are a few pictures of the girls and their new musical instruments:

 This mama can PLAY that tambourine, let me tell you!!

Jamming out with our new goodies, I love these girls.


This weekend I ran my first race in Kenya, a 12K. Now, I just have to remind you that Kenyans are literally the fastest runners in the world, in case you've missed the results of every marathon in the last bazillion years.  I went with several other wazungu (white people, or foreigners). We were excited because for 200 shillings, about $2, we got a tank top to run in, race number, and even a water break about half way through the race. So we were told that the starting times were staggered: 42K (full marathon) women at 7am, 42K men at 7:15am, 5K at 7:30am, 12K women (ME!) at 7:45am and 12K men at 8am.  So in Kenyan time, that really means we would start around 8:30 or 8:45, at least an hour later, and we did.  The 4 other wazungu from the Moi University/Indiana University partnership and I were the only white people, and it was just really cool to be surrounded by some of the world's top athletes.  Their bodies are incredible, such lean muscle and very little fat.  Their thighs are the size of my calves, or smaller.  So I've noticed since I've been here that Kenyans stand really close to each other while waiting in line. It was a bit odd at first, to be standing in line somewhere and have someone come up and literally have their shoulders or chest against your back, but I've gotten used to it. Strange though, that this also applies to the starting line of a race. We couldn't believe how close the women were standing to each other! And when the race started, elbows flew, and I saw three women go tumbling. They just got up, shook it off, and sprinted away. Ouch. So, we were left in the dust, quite literally. After running for about 20 minutes or so, I heard and felt this crazy stampede. I turned around and saw an amazing sight: 45 Kenyan men running towards me.  They were the men running the 12K that had started 15 minutes behind us.  There were so many long, lean legs flying and determined faces, I was truly in awe. I got off the pavement and kept jogging in the dirt as all of these ridiculously fast runners flew past me, it was a moment like none other. Running through the villages was also really incredible. People came out of their mud huts and homes to watch the race, but unlike in the US, they don't cheer and yell, they just stare. It was a bit eery, to be honest.  Lots of rubber necking as we went by.  I quickly discovered that if I smiled and waved, they responded and cheered me on a bit. I think I spent so much energy waving and saying, "Habari zeno, watoto!!" (How are you, children!!!) They would get super excited and wave and yell, "Mzuri!!" (Good!)  Then they'd giggle and mutter things about "mzungu" and "America." One of my favorite things was when one of the older adults gave me a few pity claps (it must have looked like a bit of a struggle at that point) and said, "Try, madam, TRY!" It was meant as encouragement, but I just wanted to say, "I AM trying!!!!"

Part of the way through the race a random man off of the street dressed in everyday clothes came and ran with me. He wasn't registered for the race, and at first I thought, "What the heck, is he seriously going to hit on me? NOW?!" But he was really nice. He'd say, "Sawa? Una choka?" (You okay? Are you tired?) And I'd say, "Hamsini, hamsini, sawa." (I'm so, so, I'm okay.) Then he'd say, "Sawa, TWENDE!" (Okay, let's GO!) And he would increase my pace just a little bit. I realized after several miles that he was really helping me. He'd go with my pace, then push me ever so slightly. He actually finished the race with me, and I learned afterwards that he's not a big runner, but he's a boxing instructor. He made a great motivator and running partner. So anyway, I finished the 12K, 7.3 miles, in 1 hour and 9 minutes. That's probably a PR for me, it's about an 8 min 40 sec mile pace. And two of the other white people finished after me, so I wasn't even last! It was a great morning.

My running partner and motivator.  Don't even know his name, but he was great!

All I want for Christmas

Hi all,

            As the Holiday season is quickly approaching, I wanted to give you an alternative option for gift giving this December.  In years past, I've often been overwhelmed by the American way during the Holiday season: I think too many times we rush around during the week before Christmas trying to find the perfect gift for those we love, as if showing our love requires a material object. While I love giving (and receiving!) gifts as much as the next guy, I have a different perspective this year. Although I haven't spent a Christmas here in Kenya before, I can guarantee you that things will look a bit different.  The amount of poverty and suffering here takes my breath away, and has changed my life in just the short amount of time I’ve been here. 

            Please consider making a donation this holiday season.  One-time donations are always welcome. Here is an estimation of how much money is needed for what:

           

            $30 will buy 2 girls’ packages for a year (24 sanitary napkins, 8 pairs of underwear,               and soap) 

            $50 will buy one school uniform and one notebook

            $100 will buy five children a pair of school shoes

            $500 will buy textbooks for approximately 3 students in Primary school, grades 7 and 8

            $800 will buy approximately 10 children a Christmas package including several pairs                        of clothes, shoes, cookies, a toy, etc.

            $1,000 will assist a college student with yearly tuition fees, accommodation, and food  for 1 year

            If you are interested in making an ongoing commitment, one of the most effective and needed ways to donate is to sponsor a child so that they can go to school.  It costs approximately $350 for a child aged 6-13 years to go to Primary school for one year, three terms.  It costs approximately $450 for a child aged 14-18 to go to Secondary school for one year, three terms. However, it would be devastating for a child to be sponsored for just one year of school, only to be put back on the street when the money runs out.  For this reason, if you decide to sponsor a child, it is necessary that you agree to sponsor them for several years.  You can decide which aged child to sponsor, and for how long.  For example, if you want to make a 4 year commitment, you can sponsor a child for Secondary school (equivalent to 4 years of high school in the US).  

            Taaluma Program is a local NGO here in Kenya that Joe and Sarah Ellen Mamlin work with to distribute international donations to children in need. As some of you know, my parents are visiting me in Kenya at the end of December.  I'm volunteering them to bring checks and monetary donations directly here, so as to avoid fees associated with wiring money and the like.  If you are interested in making a donation, please make a personal check out to Mrs. Sarah Ellen Mamlin and Mr. Sonak.  A fund has been set up in their name to avoid unnecessary fees through the Kenyan government.

             I hope this hasn't been too overwhelming of an explanation and plea. The bottom line is, there is SO much need.  ANY amount of money you can afford to donate will be put to good use, and you can determine where your money goes. 

           

            Please consider giving a gift that will change the life of a child here in Kenya.  If you’re interested in making a donation, please contact me for my parents’ address. They will collect checks and bring them to Kenya in December. 

Sincerely,

Kathleen O'Donnell

Kathleen.s.odonnell@gmail.com

Halloween....and Kenyan Body building.

Halloween is not a holiday that Kenyans celebrate. In fact, most associate it with the idea of Americans worshipping ghosts, dead loved ones, and other creepy things. So, it’s not highly regarded in Kenya at all. There are no huge pumpkins on top of costume stores, or signs with “Halloween Costume Sale!” everywhere. There are no college students scantily dressed up as a “sexy” something: Sexy pirate, sexy bunny, sexy schoolgirl…nope. BUT since the Sally Test Pediatric Center was started by an American, it’s become tradition there to celebrate Halloween.  There were several costume donations (from the US no doubt, there’s nowhere to buy a costume in Kenya) that we took home and washed the week before Halloween.  I had prepared the kids with several different songs, but not too spooky of songs, so they were ready to sing. I ran into a stumbling block with one song that talked of “gremlins.”  Nobody knew what a gremlin was! The closest visual I could think of on the spot was that they were similar to the dwarfs in Snow White, which some of them had seen. But really, how DO you describe a gremlin to a Kenyan? I’ve never had to ponder that question before. 

So the kids that fit into the 8 or 10 donated costumes happily put them on and pranced around like ladybugs, lions or princesses. The sad part was seeing the kids that didn’t get a costume. Many tried to squeeze into too-small outfits, only to get stuck half way.  Others just had these huge, sad eyes as they watched the lucky kids that happened to be the correct sizes.  I continue to be impressed by their resilience though, there was not one tear. Imagine what would happen in America.  If some kids got costumes and others didn’t?! Good God, breakdowns and tantrums galore. Heck, there would be meltdowns over who got which costumes even if all the kids GOT costumes. It definitely puts things in perspective.

In the morning we sang Halloween songs and decorated masks out of paper plates.  Then we carved a pumpkin, which was greenish/beige, I might add.  One of the staff balanced it on her head (with a lit candle inside) while we walked through the wards and sang.  How in the world do African women balance so much on their heads? Bowls, wood, buckets, stalks of fruit, you name it. They don’t even use their hands. Anyway, I digress. At least by this point every kid had a mask or a costume, so that made me feel a bit better. It was quite the experience to parade through the wards.  When we came back, each kid got a small paper bag with 4 pieces of candy in it, and a banana. They were ESTATIC.  It was so neat to see their smiles as they opened their candy bags and tore into the bananas.  When I think of this experience as compared to what Halloween looks like in America, it almost makes me sick.  Kids running door to door in expensive, well-thought out costumes….I mean, I remember coming home with BUCKETS o’ candy. Just an insane amount of candy.  Then when I think of how amazing these kids felt to get FOUR pieces of candy…I wish there was a way to help American kids appreciate all that they have. It might as well have been Christmas morning for these kids to get such a treat as candy and a banana. Wow.

 A lady bug and a bumblebee....they were SO excited to get dressed up.

 My favorite lion, Wycliff.

 Hellen, one of my dear friends at the Sally Test Pediatric Center, balancing a pumpkin on her head.

 Parading through the wards in costumes and masks.

Another one of my recent adventures included going to the “Mr. Eldoret” Bodybuilding competition. It was in a conference-ish room at a hotel in town.  There were 5 or 6 different weight divisions, each with anywhere from 4 to 10 competitors.  All competitors in each weight class would come out on the makeshift stage first, and prance around a bit.  They were wearing very little clothing, pretty much a bikini bottom, to be exact, and were all slicked up with soooooo much oil.  The judge would call out different muscle groups that they wanted to see, and each poser would assume the position that best showed off that muscle group, then flex as hard as humanly possible.  I think they were flexin for jesus or somethin.  After this first round, they would ask one or two posers to remain on stage. These guys would get a song to themselves (often times a Celine Dion ballad, WHAT?!) and would do a bit of free style posing.

So after four hours of this, they had a final round of all the winners from each division.  During the downtime, one of the judges came up to our table and asked me to write my name down.  Now, I’ve learned, in my two months here, that Kenyan men are very forward. They’re not shy to ask for your name and number, and if you give it to them, they’ll use it. So I said, “No….thanks. Sorry.” The guy laughed and said, “It’s not for personal use, it’s for the competition.” So I hesitantly wrote my name down, and sure enough, got called on stage to help give out awards and certificates.  There is such a big tada around having a white person present; it almost seems like in this kind of situation it’s an honor? Well anyway, I was already on stage with the finalists, and there was still a bit of downtime, so of course I had to do a pose or two.  Then I helped present the certificates, trophies, and medals to each person…quite the night!

 Kenyan body builders....

 Paul Mwangale, I guess he's a famous body builder from Kenya?

 One of these things is not like the other....

 Just learning a few poses...

And yes, there I am with the sponsors presenting awards to the finalists.

A day at the school for the deaf

Today I had the opportunity to join Susan, an American linguist doing research for several weeks here in Kenya, at the school for the deaf.  We took a taxi several miles outside of town on bumpy, BUMPY roads. We passed a secondary school and lots of cows and goats, then arrived at the school for the deaf.  The facility itself houses and sleeps up to 80 kids with hearing impairments, from grade 1-8.  There is a modest kitchen with several huge sufurias, cooking pots, where they make every meal in bulk.  There are four, maybe five? classrooms, each with a chalkboard, dirt floors, several desks, a handmade poster or two, and many, many students.  Interestingly enough, since there aren’t enough classrooms for the amount of kids, each classroom is divided in two, and there’s a chalkboard at each end. The students in one class sit facing one chalkboard, and the students in the other class sit facing the other chalkboard, but all in the same room.  I found this quite a clever way to make use of the space and divide the classroom.  However, just because these kids are deaf doesn’t mean they’re silent.  The teachers must go crazy trying to concentrate with not only another teacher in the same room, but also with the vocalizations from many students.

I was nervous as we approached-I don’t know sign language!  I was flustered and said to Susan as we walked up, “Uhhh I don’t know anything, how do I sign ‘hello’?!”  “Just wave.” Ohhh riiiiiight.

The kids were very warm and friendly, and started signing furiously to Susan to ask about her friend.  She told them where I’m from, what I do, and spelled my name in sign language. They asked if I knew any sign, and she answered no, so they immediately wanted to teach me how to sign my own name.  They also gave me a “nick-sign,” if you will: the letter K across your body to your shoulder. It was funny to talk to Susan about her experiences at the deaf school. She is fluent in ASL, American Sign Language, but unfortunately it’s slightly different than Kenyan Sign Language.  She has stories of funny mishaps. For example, the sign “nice” in ASL is the same as the sign “clean” in KSL. So, she would sign, “Nice to meet you,” but the kids often giggled because she was saying, “Clean to meet you.”

I had to remind myself not to get frustrated, but it was difficult. Talk about a language barrier. Now a days when I’m greeted by a group of (hearing) Kenyan children, I feel at ease. I’ve discovered my ways of connecting with them.  I understand the basics of how to greet and ask how their day is, how they’re feeling, what they had for lunch, etc etc.  And I know some goofy Swahili songs that gets me “in” right away. But with these kids, it felt like I was back at square one, I literally don’t know the first thing.  It was a good introduction to the school though, and the teachers were very friendly. We chatted and ate a lunch of githeri, a mixture of corn and beans, while the kids played outside.

I know that there are definitely ways a Music Therapist can work with the deaf population.  I remember observing an MT who worked with pre-school aged kids who had cochlear implants.  The connection between music and early language development in her work was so evident, and the role of music so important.  This population is different however, in that these kids will grow up using sign language as their first language and primary method of communication.  Susan explained to me that many individuals in the deaf community, in Kenya, the states, and elsewhere, do not view being deaf as an impairment. They may become frustrated when someone suggests something like a cochlear implant, because it implies that there is something, in fact, to corrected.  Hopefully I’ll be able to incorporate some drumming or other activities where the children can feel the vibrations.  It’s funny, just because kids can’t hear doesn’t mean they can’t benefit from music.

Also, a side note on safety: 

Some of you may know that there is a bit of turmoil between Kenya and Somalia right now.  Al Shabaab militants have been trying to overturn Somalia’s government for quite some time, and they’ve been linked to recent kidnappings of Kenyans and tourists along the coast.  Kenya has been forced to intervene and recently sent troops across the border into Somalia to pursue suspected Islamic militants.  BUT just know that I am safe and sound, and taking precautions. (You’ll be happy to know that I no longer plan on running a half marathon in Nairobi this weekend, as there have been some bombings there. You’re welcome, mamabear!) The Indiana University-Moi University partnership is a strong one, and we’ve been told that if there is even a slight chance we’re in danger, Joe Mamlin, head of the program and director of AMPATH, would send us home in a heartbeat. So, if you see shenanigans in the news, don’t worry, I’m A-OK. 

The male man...

There is this boy at the Sally Test Pediatric Center named Robert. When I first met him a couple of weeks ago, I thought he was 11 or maybe 12. I've learned it's really difficult to tell kids' ages around here. Often times they're so malnourished and undeveloped that I'll think they are maybe 18 months or so, then later learn that they're actually 3 or 4 years old. Robert definitely took a liking to me. During free time I've noticed he often snags me first before the other kids do so that I'll play chess with him. When we play he is so thoughtful; he always takes his time and thinks through each move. Sometimes I let him win, but other times, I'm a bit ashamed to admit, he truthfully beats me. I love that beaming smile when he says, "checkmate" and then wins in the next move...I think that smile is one of the most rewarding things thus far in my time here. Turns out Robert is actually 16, and he has a stomach tumor. When I learned that, my heart flip flopped. I can't believe this kid is 16, he looks so young. He is so innocent and vulnerable.  He works independently a lot of the time at Sally Test, probably because some of the toddler aged songs and activities don't really get him pumped up.  So he will find some kind of workbook, usually a math book, and work on questions by himself. Then he'll ask me or someone to check over his work. I just can't get over how self-motivated he is. Man, he really wants to learn so badly. I wonder if he was in school before he was hospitalized, or if he'll ever have the opportunity to go to school.  Sadly enough, there are a lot of abandoned kids at the hospital. There is a policy that if a patient is discharged but can't pay the hospital bill, they literally cannot leave the hospital. Parents sometimes abandon their kids because they are forced to go out and look for a way to make money and pay the bill, but unfortunately too many times they don't come back. So these children are literally abandoned and trapped in the hospital. Nurses and staff are forced to use their beds for other sick patients....so since the kids have been discharged and aren't technically "patients" anymore, they sleep in the grass outside the hospital. I can't even wrap my brain around the concept of a child being parentless, homeless, and trapped in the hospital because no one can pay their bill. I have a feeling Robert is one of those kids. I really just want to adopt him and take him to Indianapolis. Gosh I wish I could give this kid a chance.

Things are a bit unstable around the hospital these days. Since Monday, a large number of physicians and employees have been on strike. Apparently it's the worst strike since some time in the mid nineties. They are refusing to perform surgeries, provide patient care, and some aren't coming in to the hospital at all. I can't fully explain the situation, because there are a lot of different explanations going around, some political and some tribal.  From what I understand, there has been a shift in administration recently, and the hospital has a ton, ton, ton of debt.  There is no money for even the most basic of medical supplies.  One of the neurosurgeons that I workout with said that he hasn't done nearly the amount of surgeries that he would usually do because they don't have gloves or even oxygen for patients while they're under, so he simply can't perform some of the necessary surgeries.  As of yesterday they've stopped admitting patients, and unfortunately a lot of patients are choosing to go home. If they're not receiving care while admitted in the hospital, they'd rather go home to die than die here and leave family members with the burden of the hospital bill after their death. Hopefully things will turn around here in the next couple of weeks, and again, I definitely don't understand the nitty gritty of what's happening.

I had my first Kenyan church experience last Sunday, and I'm actually looking forward to going again this Sunday.  There was a lot of music...that was definitely my favorite part.  The sermon was about men in Kenya stepping up and taking responsibility for their actions, and taking steps to lead more productive lives.  The only problem was, the minister kept referring to a man as, "the male man." He would say things like, "The male man needs to take care of his children and make time for his family." And, "The male man needs to find work at all cost so that he can provide for his wife and children." All of these were valid points, sure, but I just kept giggling at the "male man," all I could think about was the mail man.  WHAT'S WRONG WITH THE POSTAL SERVICE?!? Lost in translation...I suppose.

Okie-dokie, folks, that's all for now. More adventures to come!

So there we were, stranded on the side of the road in Uganda at night....

This weekend I went with a group of med and pharmacy students on a rafting trip down the Nile in Uganda. I conveniently waited to tell the parental units about this one until AFTER we were back for the day. So we headed out mid-afternoon on Friday, I think there were 16 of us total in 2 vans. Crossing the border was a bit of an ordeal. There were a ton of people traveling to Uganda for a Kenya-Uganda soccer game, so we waited for an hour or so. It was getting dark by the time we got back on the road, which was a problem because the med and pharm students signed a form stating they wouldn't travel at night for safety reasons. We still had over two hours to drive before we got to the camp site in Uganda....oops. So we're riding along, it's pitch black because there are no street lights in Uganda, and all of the sudden we stop on the side of the road in a village. Kelvin, a Kenyan who was coordinating the majority of our weekend, came back to our van and told us they were having trouble with the first van. He said, "We're just going to change batteries and let it charge for a bit, then we'll leave soon, no problem." An hour later....

So there we were, stranded on the side of the road in Uganda at night.  We passed the time with many a joke about dying in Uganda, remarks about how this is exactly the situation that all of the supervisors want to avoid....16 mzungus chillin in parked, broken down vans at night in a foreign country....yes, yes, we were sitting ducks. (PS Med and pharm students, my apologies if any of your supervisors somehow read this...but it's too good not to share...) After letting the first van charge on the battery of the second van for an hour or so, the drivers realized that the battery wasn't in fact the problem. So now the first van wouldn't start at all. Sweet. So, all 16 of us piled in the second van for the remaining 45 minutes or so of the trip. It was truly mzungu matatu style, quite entertaining. We got to the camp site and found very nice, SAFE, camping accommodations awaiting us. Side note, I'm pretty sure doxycycl, the malaria prophylaxis I'm taking is giving me wicked dreams and making me do goofy things in my sleep. So far they've included being chased by unknown furry beasts, talking about small birds lined up on the perimeters of my bed, coming to in the middle of the night and realizing I'm eating peanut butter (that's happened before...) and waking up wandering aimlessly in my room with the lights on. Interesting.

On Saturday we ventured out on an all day rafting excursion. The company we went with was a pretty commercial one--definitely aimed at tourists. Rafting in Africa was very different than rafting in Colorado or West Virginia. In the states, the goal of the trip is to stay IN the raft. Here, we only stayed in our raft maybe 2 out of the 9 or 10 rapids? In fact, I'm pretty sure the three guides had a competition going for who could flip their raft the most times, or maybe a competition for who could eject their rafters the furthest or highest into the air?! It was crazy and awesome, but actually quite scary. I don't usually think things like that are scary, I'm usually pumped to do the most extreme things in these situations, but man. We're talking about some crazy class 5 rapids in the Nile. Mother nature done messed us up.  It's funny too, because everything that they tell you safety wise while you're on land makes complete sense at the time, but when you're being flung around by these massive waves, you don't think of ANY of that stuff.

Some words of advice from our crazy Zimbabwean guides:

1.) "Ball yourself up when you're pulled under, you'll pop up to the surface faster. The worst thing you could do is flail like a ragdoll."  Beaucoup de ragdoll flailing? Check.

2.) " If you haven't been rescued by one of the kayaks or the safety raft, swim away from the main current. Float on your back with your feet up, you'll use less energy than flailing and won't hit your feet on rocks or have them tickled by crocs." Again, major flailing in the middle of the current while waiting to be rescued? Check.

3.) The final one, our guide's reply when we gave him a hard time about the fact that we'd spent more time thrashing for our lives in the rapids than in the raft: "If you're in the raft you're just floating. We are RAFTING!" Yes sir, we are.

For one of the final, bigger rapids, our guide put Alana, one of the med students, and myself at the front of the boat and the other four bigger guys at the back. He reasoned that the weight distribution would ideally help us "surf the rapid" and not flip. But what he really wanted to do was have the raft launch 90 degrees upright, then flip from the front to back and LAUNCH Alana and I as far and high out of the raft as possible. It worked. We went flying and I swear I was 20 feet in the air before I hit the water. When we finally got back in the raft, our guide was having a good chuckle to himself and asked if we ladies had enjoyed ourselves. Ha. During all of these adventures it was funny to see locals who lived on the islands and mainlands standing as close to the water as possible to watch the action.  Crazy tourists willingly flying down water falls and through the air must have been their entertainment, and I guess I can't really blame them. One of the highlights was taking a break midday to have a snack.  Each person got half of a pineapple (literally) sliced into pieces, and some "glucose biscuits." It was absolutely delish!

Anyway, I don't have any pictures from the Nile rafting day, but here are several pictures from the last month or so:

 My Kenyan mama and me over looking Lake Baringo

 Out in the village on a hunt for a wise Kenyan prophet who apparently had all of the answers to life's burning questions...it was a really long day.

 Some great medical play at the Sally Test Pediatric Center, Moi Teaching and Referral Hospital. These are some of the cuties I get to spend my days with.

 Everyone's favorite kiddo.

 The view of the Nile in Uganda from our camp site.

Making crafts with Samuel.  He is really helping me with my Swahili, and I'm helping him with English. His favorite thing to say to me is, "Kathleen, kuuuu-ja!" (Kathleen, come!) Then he grabs my hand and pulls me while he hops on his good leg and uses me for balance.

Chapati time!

This Tuesday was the second time I went to the town of Turbo to spend the day at a hospice facility called "Living Room." (check out livingroominternational.org if you get the chance...) It's about an hour and a half drive from Eldoret, and I've been going with an awesome physical therapist, Chrissy.  The first week we went it was pretty difficult. Spending the day with individuals who are actively dying from AIDS or other life threatening illnesses really forces you to check your own reality. This place provides dignity and quality of life to the forgotten, abused, and neglected.  There are mainly older adults there, but currently two children who are 5 and 8 years old, and one teenage-ish girl.  All three of these young people were found abandoned in terrible, unspeakable conditions. One of the kidos has cerebral palsy, and both are cognitively impaired. I worked mostly with these youngsters the first week I was there, which was a challenge. The language barrier was prominent. I've been spoiled at Sally Test because most of the children there have had some english, and welcome me with open arms when I lead music interventions in english.  There is always some translating, but all in all Sally Test kids benefit from learning english songs and the like.  At Living Room though, swahili is the primary language, and especially since the children have some degree of developmental delay, I struggled to connect with them.  I also sang at the bedside with several adults, but again, I spoke little swahili, and they spoke little english.

This week I decided to ask if I could sing hymns in the common room. (THANK YOU, Mamabear, for making me throw in a binder of adult-ish music at the last minute!)  All the adults were up and in the common room when we arrived. I greeted people, gathered my courage, and said, "Nina itwa Kathleen. Ninatoka nchi ya America. Ninaimba?"  Roughly: "My name is Kathleen. I'm from the country of America. Can I sing?" So I sang hymns for probably 45 minutes or so.  People were responsive, some smiled, some closed their eyes. I'd pause after a couple and say, "Mzuri sana? Hapana? Ndiyo?" Meaning, "It's good? Yes, no, keep going? Shut the heck up?!" They always nodded, so I kept singing. I suppose that's progress. Javan was kind enough to take me into town today to a music store where we found a CD of swahili hymns. Some are traditional, and some are familiar tunes with translated words. So now I just need to learn to sing in swahili, no biggie.  I also worked with all three kids providing developmental support. I plopped them on my lap and sang counting songs and parts of the body songs, along with several general hello type ditties. Those 4 songs represent the whole of my knowledge of memorized swahili songs! But hey, I'd say I'm learning at least a song or two a week, so I'll continue to build repertoire. The staff at Living Room are incredible. They are so nurturing and supportive.  On the way home it started pouring rain, not an unlikely event. One of the staff members has been giving us a ride from the middle of the village back to our car which is parked off the main dirt road. Once you turn to go into the village, you're on the BUMPIEST dirt roads I've ever encountered. There are absolutely no street signs, and it's a complete maze of roads and fields that all look the same. I don't know what we'd do if we got lost. You don't call AAA. You probably can't call anyone, and I don't know what you'd say if you did, "I'm by a field...at the corner of two dirt roads...there's a goat..." That describes the corner of every two dirt roads. So anyway, they're wise to let Chrissy park the car and then take us the last 30 minutes or so into the village.  During the rainy season the dirt roads are ridiculous. I mean, pot holes galore, practically a river of flowing water that you try to straddle, it's a wild ride. As we were slipping and slidding all over the roads (a similar experience to losing control of your car on a patch of ice or snow...) Juli says, "This is why we don't have adventure parks in Kenya! It's enough adventure to drive on the dirt roads in the rain!"

Some of you know that I'm a stickler for time. There are few things that urke me more than people who are constantly late. I've always thought tardiness is rude, and frankly, a form of arrogance. When you make someone wait for you, you're implying that your time is more valuable than theirs, and whatever you've got going on is more important than them.  WELL, that mindset needs to fly right out the window. In Kenya things don't start on time. They don't start anywhere near to on time. Kenyans have a completely different sense of time than Americans (or at least this American). I mean holy cow, it's nutso!! In the three weeks that I've been here I've spent hoooooours waiting for people for various things: meeting someone for a morning run, waiting to get a tour of a facility, waiting to walk somewhere, etc. etc. I'm learning that when a Kenyan says they'll meet you at 7am, they mean 7-something. 7:35am, 7:45am, 7:59am....all fair game. I'm not the first to have gotten frustrated...the Americans just learn that time is incredibly flexible, and you should probably tack on at least 45 minutes to whatever the original time was. Ha.  I was joking with Michael, one of the guards about my experiences thus far and he said, "Ah yes....you mzungus keep good time. Good, good time. It is good to keep time. Africans don't keep time, you'll learn, my American daughter." This will be good for me.

This morning was one of my many waiting game days. I was supposed to meet Alice, a nice Kenyan woman I met last week, to run at 6:30am. I showed up to our meeting place at 6:25 (I can't help it...) and paced a bit. I started walking up and down the dirt road that she lives on, knowing that when she surfaced I'd see her. I waited until 7:05 with no sign of Alice. So I finally just ran by myself. She called me in the afternoon and apologized--the problem is she doesn't have an alarm clock, and today her body decided to wake her up at 7:30 instead of 6:30. Fair enough. So she invited me to stop by her place in the evening.  When I got there, she had fresh avocado, sweet potatoes, carrots, onions and cabbage. I asked if she'd teach me how to make chapati, my favorite food so far, and she said of course.  Chapati is flour, warm water, a pinch of salt, and vegetable oil mixed together, then rolled out into tortilla sized pieces. Then it's fried and delicious. She set me up outside on a tree stump over a small fire with her only frying pan and spoon for flipping.  We made each chapati one by one. I'd flip the one that was frying while she rolled out the next one and brought it to me.  Then we mixed together the sweet potatoes and avocado and spread that on the warm chapati. We mixed the cabbage, carrot and onion with sugar and vinegar and also had a salad.  Her home is only big enough for a bed, a cabinet, a chair and a make shift wooden bench. There's no running water or electricity, no bathroom, it's just one room. Actually, her entire home is the size of our upstairs bathroom at 7215 Steinmeier Drive. When it started getting dark she lit a kerosine lamp, and we laughed and sang songs and ate by far the best meal I've had in Kenya. What a great evening.  I'm so moved by friendly people who will share everything they have, no matter how much or little it is.

Neema and Tumaini: Grace and Hope

Man, so much has gone on in one week. The Sally Test center is absolutely amazing, I love getting to know the kids. The other day we were playing outside on the teeter totter. One of the kids wanted me to get on, so of course I did. Pretty soon we had a stack of kids on one end of it, and me on the other. It got to be a game to see how many kids I could hold up...crutches and wheelchairs flew, hilarity ensued. It's amazing to see what these kids know about the hard facts of life. We read the story of Sadako, the little Japanese girl that got leukemia from the atomic bombing by the US. It's a sad story: she's told that if she folds 1,000 paper cranes, she'll be granted a wish. Her wish was just to live. Sadly, she only folded 600 and some before she died of leukemia.  One of the teachers asked me to follow up with some processing-ish questions and try to facilitate a discussion after we read the story.  I could hardly believe the things these kids came up with, they have seen so much death in their short lives.  I was explaining how lifetimes can be different lengths. I started with a mayfly, that only lives a day, then worked up through different plants and animals that live various amounts of time. I explained very frankly, that there are certain things that happen and not everyone gets to live as long as others. There comes a time when your body stops working and that's when you die. One of the kids raised his hand and said in kiswahili: You don't know when your time will come, noone knows. Some kids die, and some old people die, but everyone dies, so it's okay.  Needless to say, it was really an eye-opening experience to discuss death with these kids.

I also went to Neema house and the Tumaini children's drop-in center this week. Tumaini means "hope" and neema means "grace". The Tumaini center is a place for street kids to come during the day. They provide some meals, and also do some schooling. They have activities and play games. It's a place for these kids who have noone and nothing. They can go and meet other people and have some security in their lives. They have a social worker that tries to connect them with family and get them back into homes and off the streets some how. These kids are mostly teenagers, and the world has been so cruel to them. They definitely didn't warm up to me the way the punkins at Sally Test did. They're very hardened, and rightfully so, skeptical. I'm sure I just look like another privileged white woman that's coming in to look at the poverty they live in and say, "Wow, that's bad. I had no idea." So it was definitely a long day. In one of the back rooms, they have beading projects for some of the teenagers to do. They were making Purdue colored pins to ship to the states before Purdue's homecoming game. Man. I sat down at the table, very aware of my differences. I introduced myself with the little swahili I know, and that of course, was greeted by some chuckles.  There was one volunteer in the room that could help me translate, so that was really nice. I told them where I'm from, how I'm volunteering at the hospital, and how I use music. One of the girls said something in swahili, and the volunteer said, "They're asking that you sing something." Now, one thing I've learned, when trying to explain what music therapy is, is that it is helpful to just do something. Sing something. Anything. So I did. I just sang one of the kids songs in swahili, and butchered all the words, I'm sure, but it actually got me somewhere. I got a few smiles and some laughter.  It was as if I was showing them my flawed, human side, and all the sudden we could all relate to one another.  After that there was a lot of fast talking in swahili, and I could pick out words like, "America" and "mzungu," but that's about it. I asked one of the girls to show me how to work on the pin, and she did, hesitantly. It was an experience. I hope that if I keep showing up and taking interest in their lives they'll learn to trust me. I'll keep going back, it can only get easier! 

Neema house is a home for kids that are HIV positive. The couple that started it began with a shelter for a few abandoned kids to go, and then realized that they needed teachers as well. These kids that are HIV positive were getting cast aside in the schools...there is such a stigma. So they've built this program up, and now there are over 40 kids, some that live there, some that come for the day. They deal with so many doses of medicine, food, clothing, schooling, everything. They're really giving these kids a chance. They were giving me a tour and I started to say hi to some of the kids. Once I said hi to one, they all started lining up to properly introduce themselves to me. I got hi-fives, hugs, hair touching (What IS it with the hair?!) They were just so sweet. Just normal little kids running around in uniforms, but sadly their lives will be so stunted and different than other kids'. We were walking around and all the sudden I was crying so hard. I took a minute to myself and the woman who owns it (terrible that I can't remember her name right now) came over and hugged me. She just held me like her own child while I sobbed uncontrollably. I just can't believe what they go through. How could someone abandon them? They're just left in dumpsters or on the street to die. I think all the emotion from everything that I've seen in the past week just came pouring out. 

Moving on...I have lots of workout partners! This is exciting. Javan, who drives around Sarah Ellen and basically holds together lots of things having to do with AMPATH and the Referral Hospital,  mentioned something about a gym when we were in the car. I decided to ask if I could go with him and he said of course. Now, Javan is huge. Billy Banks huge. He was Mr. Kenya a few years ago, I kid you not. He's such a nice guy, and obviously a good one to have on your team. He has this smile that lights up a room, you can tell he's a big teddy bear under all them muscles! So I went with him to this gym, expecting to just do my own thing with weights and whatever was available. This is not like a gym in the US, it's one small room, with several machines, free weights, and a common room. But it gets the job done. So I was starting to use the weights, and Javan tells me that he teaches a kickboxing class in the common room, starting in a few minutes. Of course I said I'd go!! It was GREAT. Imagine 20 Kenyans and me smushed into a tiny space doing freaking military jumping, kicking, punching, and plyometric drills.  I kept thinking, "Kick?! You want us to kick? There's no ROOM to kick!" But somehow it worked, and I got a great workout. Sign me up, I'm there every Tuesday and Thursday, baby. I've also gone running with one of the guards, Joseph. He's great, he always greets everyone with a warm smile and asks how their day has been. To my surprise, I could actually keep up with him. Me?! Running with a Kenyan?! It maaaaaay have something to do with the fact that he's nursing a knee injury and has to go slow, but hey, I'll take it. Four miles with the elevation in Eldoret feels like 7 miles in the US, but my body and lungs are getting used to it. Maybe that's why Kenyans always win marathons...they train at an altitude and then they don't have to deal with the same elevation when they go and compete elsewhere. 

This weekend I went with a group of med students to Hell's Gate and Lake Naivasha. It was about a 4 hour drive, in an IU-approved matatu (matatus are crazy, 10-12 person vans that are notorious for driving so so so badly around town.  I signed a form stating that I will never get in one without an approved driver...probably so that I don't die.) We rented mountain bikes, with Javan as our guide, and hiked around these beautiful gorges. We went out in a boat on Lake Naivasha and saw hippos and tons of birds, then took a walking tour on Crescent Island and saw giraffes, zebras, and wildabeasts! I realized that this is the first time that I've taken out my camera, probably because it costs the same amount of money that a lot of people around Eldoret make in a handful of months. Anyway, below are a few pictures of my adventures this weekend:

We stopped at the equator!

Some friends we met while in the gorge.

Hiking in Africa....look at that view.

We were so freakin close to them!

Making new friends...

This is a different world

There's a great deal of adjusting going on over here.  Somehow I thought I was ready to see all of this, but I now know that there's nothing that could have prepared me for the conditions here, and especially the conditions in the hospital. This is an absolutely different world, and one full of so much hurting and yet so much hope. As we went up and down the halls checking with nurses about kids that were allowed to leave their bed and come play at the Sally Test Center, I just had a huge lump in my throat at all that I saw.  There are multiple people and children sharing the same hospital bed, and there are rows and rows of beds in each ward, about 3 or 4 feet away from each other.  There's no such thing as private rooms, there are curtains here and there, but everyone is in a very limited amount of space.  When you go in each private room at Riley, you're likely to see patients hooked up to numerous machines: ones that monitor their vitals, ones giving them fluids, feeding tubes, etc.  Here, there's none of that. No one is hooked up to anything, they're just lying there suffering, waiting to be seen.  The physicians and med students, both Kenyan and American, are working extremely hard and doing the best they can, but wow. I was so shocked. I have never seen more than one person in a hospital bed, and more than two people sharing a room. The amount of space that's equivalent to one individual patient's room at Riley holds at least 6 or 7 beds, and 10+ people. There is obviously no fancy schmancy room service either, people eat ugali, a traditional dish made of corn flour and water, and beans. And visiting hours are limited to an hour and a half twice a day. In that time the chaos and amount of bodies is just unbelievable. It's kind of set up like a college campus in that numerous buildings are connected by a dirt path that's sheltered by a tin kind of roof. But because of the dirt path and all the rain in the rainy season (NOW) there is so much dirt and dust that gets swept in, making it really unsanitary.

The Sally Test Center is such a safe haven for these kids. It's a play room with toys, chairs, desks etc. that kids can come to and just be KIDS. There are no white coats allowed, no one can poke or hurt them when they're at Sally Test. There are full time staff that function as teachers, nurses, care-givers, everything. They are absolutely incredible. They bring so much joy into these kids' lives.  You can just see them light up when one of the teachers goes to get them and gives them a high five.  The kids have taken to me really well in the three days that I've been there. Some are shy at first because I look so different, but then they warm up to me. So far they've loved "Down By the Bay," "Head and Shoulders, Knees and Toes," and "The Hokey Pokey." They especially love to put their backsides in, put their backsides out, put their backsides in, and shake it all about....or maybe they just laugh hysterically when they see a mzungu do it. It's different leading session in front of all swahili speaking kids and adults, but when it comes down to it, kids are kids. And they all love music. They giggle when I try to speak swahili, but then they help me. Man, kids are such good teachers. I can count to 10 in swahili, all because I just start counting and then have them help me.  They request for me to read stories when we go sit in a circle on the carpet, I think they like my accent. The other day I was reading a story and one of the teachers was helping to translate into swahili, and I looked over and one of the boys was wearing my crocs.  He's probably 7 or 8, and since I have small feet they fit him perfectly. Patricia, one of the teachers, smiled and said to me later, "Ahhh yes. He wanted to see what it feels like to be in your shoes." Man, I will never forget that moment. I just wish I brought more than one pair of washable shoes (everything gets super dusty) so that I could give him those crocs right now!  We played a board game that involved cards, so naturally I grabbed them and shuffled them, and they thought that was the COOLEST thing!! I kept shuffling over and over and over again...that was way better than the game itself. The kids also love my watch- it's just an Ironman stopwatch that I got mainly for running, but now have been wearing daily. They love to push the light button--they push it and then I cup my hand around the watch so that the letters glow in the dark. Pretty soon I had like 10 little cuties huddled around me and waiting their turn to push the button and see my watch glow in the dark!!

The kids here are so different than kids in America. Kids in America have so many choices...they're used to picking what activity they want to do. And when they don't get their way, well you know. Kids here don't have those kinds of choices. They don't have iPads and video games with a choice of 50 different games. They barely have puzzles and blocks. And they're THRILLED to play anything with someone, so they never say, "No I don't want to play that, let's play this!" These kids have the most amazing spirits. They have so little to hold on to, but they hold on for dear life. We take the kids outside to play in the afternoon, and they've taught me the coolest games with just a couple of sticks and blocks. This one kid, Joseph, has his foot wrapped up in a make shift kind of cast thing, but he hops around on his other good leg. The bandage/cast is so filthy, and it's barely covering whatever wound is going on on the bottom of his foot. He bent down to pick something up and his casted leg swung up behind him, and I could see this gapping, oozing wound that was partially exposed and so infected. Yet we just play and walk around in the dust and dirt anyway, he doesn't complain.  So much for infection control. We were playing with a basketball and he thought it was so cool that I could dribble the ball in a figure 8 around my legs. (Hey now, I have a few tricks up my sleeve from my athletic days!) The first time I did it he fell on the ground in a fit of giggles. It made me so warm and fuzzy.  This other sweet girl, Claire, has been glued to my side since my second day. She has this beautiful, wide smile that she flashes when I say, "Jambo, Claire!!" Probably because she's half laughing at me for being a crazy "mzungu" (white person, or foreigner.) When I ventured into town so many people stared at me and said "Mzungu! Hi!" I haven't yet figured out if it's derogatory in nature, or if they're just stating the obvious. The very, very, very obvious.

Last night I finally rented a cell phone, and I decided to call the woman that I met on the plane ride from Nairobi to Eldoret. (The one that smushed me into her armpit to see the Somalian plane.) When I called she was so happy to hear from me. I called her as I was walking into town to find a Swahili/English pocket dictionary. She told me to stay where I was and that she'd come meet me and show me around. She picked me up and introduced me to some family members, then we went and had chai tea. After that she said she needed to pick up a few things for me at the grocery store. A few things turned into a cart full of groceries!! I kept saying, "Really, I don't need anything, they provide most of our meals." But she insisted that I have all of her favorite brands of bread, tea, wafers, juice, etc. She spent over 6,ooo shillings on me! That's somewhere around $60, which is a big honkin deal. So much money. I kept offering to help pay and she said, "No, no I am your Mama Chichi, you will not help." After that we met her family for dinner at a local restaurant.  She started to order liver for me, and then remembered that I'd told her I don't eat meat when she'd offered to buy me meat at the store. So she said, "And for this one, the best vegetarian platter." Alllllll this food came out and it was so good! Beans, rice, a cole slaw kind of thing, a traditional kenyan food that's a mixture between a crepe and a pancake, I can't remember what it's called, and a ton of avocados. Avocados are sooooo cheap here, they grow everywhere. Chichi and her family couldn't believe it when I told them avocados are expensive in the US.  During our meal the power went out, that happens a lot, and life just goes on. When the waitress brought out two candles and set them on our table, I said, "Oh, dinner by candle light, how romantic!" They all laughed. My Kenyan family is wonderful.

One more quick thing before I go to bed, I'm taking swahili lessons from a kookie Kenyan named Wyclef.  So far I've had two lessons and I've learned greetings and some numbers.  I remember at our first lesson he asked how I was adjusting and if I felt at home. He said it usually takes time for peoples' sleeping schedules to really sink in, and asked if I'd been sleeping well. Since he asked, I told him honestly that, no I really hadn't slept well yet. I've been doing sudoku at 4 in the morning when I still can't fall asleep, and all I can hear are the dogs barking. He replied, "Yes, yes, you can't sleep because the dogs are trying to sing in swahili. It's common, my dear." I like Wyclef, he's a keeper.

I have a running date with one of the guards from Eldoret tomorrow. He's hilarious and very warm and friendly to everyone. Let's see if I hold true to my blog name. I have a feeling I'm gonna be in for a rude awakening....
Kathleen

Safe and sound in Eldoret

Well, after 3 days and over 30 hours of traveling, I finally made it here to Eldoret.  I thought my knees might never straighten out again after being bent in 90 degree angles for so long.  I met such interesting people on the planes. From Detroit to Amsterdam, I sat next to this crazy middle-aged women's studies professor from University of Washington.  She's from India, and was heading back to Delhi to see family. She was a handful, and a seatful, let's be honest. I've never understood how some people are comfortable just spreading out and overflowing into someone else's space. There's so little room on a plane to begin with, at least TRY to stay in your own bubble! Her entire arm was literally resting on mine for the duration of the flight.  And if I'd move around or anything, she'd just wait patiently with her arm suspended in midair until I settled back in, then she'd settle back in, right on top of me.  She rambled about women's rights, the economy in Africa, and all kinds of feminist scholars that I need to get into contact with. I kept saying, "Yes, but will these people be interested in music therapy?" The answer was usually a long-winded, round about way of saying, No, not really, well maybe, but they're famous scholars so you should know about them anyway. She was entertaining, that's for sure. She was racing to beat the clock and hopefully see her mother who was dying. I really hope she made it in time to see her.

The Amsterdam airport is really neat. Gunta told me it's one of her favorite airports and that I needed to look around no matter how tired I was. So I putzed here and there a bit during my lay over. There are tons of shops and stores, and you can even rent a hotel room right there in the airport. They have these fancy massage chairs that are completely enclosed.  They kind of look like one of those kids' virtual video game booths at museums. I didn't have any euros, and didn't want to exchange money to actually get a massage, I just really wanted to sit in this comfy-looking chair for a hot minute. I plopped down, leaned my head back to relax, then a few seconds later the machine started yelling at me. "PLEASE INSERT COINS OR VACATE THE CHAIR IMMEDIATELY." over and over and over again. This recorded voice was loud enough that people started looking. Jeez. So much for takin a load off in a comfy chair.  During my flight to Nairobi I met this couple--he was from Sri Lanka and she was from the Philippines. They both live and work in Dallas, TX.  I told them about my adventures and they were very supportive and encouraging. The guy said that when he was a young kid, volunteers came over to Sri Lanka and taught English and other vocational skills. He said that if they hadn't help to prepare him, he never would have left Sri Lanka and lived the life he's now thankful for in the states.

Customs, the visa process and all those shenanigans were actually not bad at all once I got to Nairobi. I was preparing to have my suitcase opened and underwear strewn (strone? strewed?) everywhere. But when I gave the man my form and started to lift my bag onto the table, he just waved me through and said, "Karibu," which means "Welcome" in Swahili.  I spent the night in a hotel in Nairobi, it was nice to finally get a good night's sleep. The cab driver I met, Eddie, was wonderful.  My first friend in Kenya. We were laughing and joking the whole way to the hotel. I was practicing some of the children's songs in Swahili that I've been working on (BUTCHERING them, of course) and he was laughing hysterically at me. He also gave me lots of practical tips about which cabs to avoid (so don't get into the one with the shady looking "TaXi" sign on a piece of wood duct taped to the roof of the run down, three-doored car?...ahhhh good to know.) He's also in a choir in Nairobi, and he said he'd love to have me join it! I'm finna sing in an African choir!! Who knew my audition would consist of singing kid songs in Swahili, terribly?  Anyway, he said he could work out a way to pick me up in Eldoret for Saturday rehearsals and take me to Nairobi. Sounds awesome.

On the dinky plane from Nairobi to Eldoret, I sat next to this woman, Chichi. She was so kind. She's from Eldoret and has been there practically all her life. She was sitting at the window seat and I was in the aisle seat. We were talking and waiting for the plane to take off, and all the sudden she grabbed me around the neck and shmushed my face practically into her chest/armpit to have me look out the window. I didn't know what I was supposed to look at, and then I saw a small, extravagant plane with something to the effect of Somalia-Air or the like on the side of it. Behind the plane were lines of big jeeps and other protective cars.  She told me that the President of Somalia was in that plane, and that's why we were having to wait so long to take off. Whoa. Anyway, she showed me pictures of her children and told me all the places I have to see in Eldoret. Then she gave me her contact info and said she plans to take her 3 children on a safari soon, and that I should come as her 4th child. So nice. She helped me with my bags, and then waited with me outside to make sure I had a safe ride into town. (Side note, it was pretty sweet being one of those people who has a cab driver waiting with a sign with my name on it...I felt like a baller. Shot caller. )

So now I'm in Eldoret!! The IU House-the dormish/hostelish place where I'm staying- is really, really nice. It's in a gated community with Kenyan guards. So far I've met Michael, he's hilarious and tells me not to go running too far, (I don't, MOM, don't worry :) ) and Philip. They both look like badass, mean guards, but then as soon as you say hi they crack this big smile and are super welcoming. And they have dogs!! Four of them at the gate, although, they're scrawny and ill fed, and I think they'd make terrible guard dogs if they were ever actually called to duty. BUT they gladly accept my affection every time I come in. There are four dogs, Chai, Toscar, and I can't remember the other two names yet, they're difficult to pronounce. I can only remember those two because one is tea, and one sounds like an opera.  My roommate, Noffar, is an Internal medicine resident from Mt. Sinai in New York.  I think we'll get along really well, she said she's glad to have some company.  The first night I was here I met a group of med students. They were in the common room drinking beer and playing cards. Ahhhh, sweet familiarity! I hung out with them for awhile and played cards and "Apples to Apples."  Pretty soon, guess who walked in to greet me...Sarah Ellen Mamlin!!! She welcomed me with open arms and brought me leftover Chinese food!  It was so good to finally meet her. I've heard nothing but amazing things about the Mamlins.  I think she'll be my main mentor here-she runs the Sally Test Pediatric Center that's located between the two peds units of the hospital. She's all about the emotional needs of hospitalized kids, and letting them play and just be KIDS. And her husband, Dr. Joe Mamlin is like, THEE man responsible for the entirety of this partnership that started back in the late 80's. The boss. The head honcho. The "it" guy.  The live within the IU compound in a house just down the road.  Sarah Ellen told me to show up at her house the next day, so I did. We sat on her couch and talked and talked, then they took me out to lunch at a local place in town (and out to dinner several hours later?! Shiesh, I'm lucky.) When we went into town Dr. Mamlin saw a patient of his sitting in a beat up wheelchair on the dusty road outside the restaurant we were going to. With one swift move he greeted her and invited her in to eat with us.  Pretty soon, he saw another woman and her 12 year old daughter, so they came and ate with us too. I'm starting to understand why everyone says the Mamlins are amazing people. So far there have been lots of options for vegetarian food--curry type dishes with lentils and rice. Good by me!

Alright all, I think I better wrap this up. Man, I'm a newbie at blogging, I've written for the past 45 minutes and I haven't even gotten to the good stuff yet! I'll hopefully be able to make future blogs more concise and less rambly. Just know that I'm HERE, and I'm happy and getting adjusted, and meeting lots and lots of people, both Kenyans and Americans that are connected with the IU-Moi partnership. Woot woot!

That's all for now,
Kathleen