Ode to Mom and Dad

Travelling demands some honest reflection about who you really are - it's like looking in a huge 360 degree mirror that magnifies all aspects of your persynality. In all of my experiences, there really is nothing quite like it. Since the beginning of this journey, it was blatantly obvious what a product of my parents I am - most of the time, we don't admit this to ourselves, and when others point it out to us, we laugh, as if it's an insult. Let me be clear: without the straight-up unconditional love and support (that is sometimes unjustified considering what a mess I can be), great influences, and nobel guidance of my parents, I would have fallen flat on my face in Kenya. It is time to put some thanks in its due place.

I thought about doing this in an email to my parents, more privately, but feel like things like this need to be said more often - kids don't generally take time or put effort into thanking our parents, and that's a shame. So in my last official entry before leaving the African continent, I want to say thanks, Mom and Dad:

Thank you for not only telling me I can do anything I set my mind to, but believing that it's true. Even when it's not, having that type of insane confidence does wonders for my ability to get things done.

Thank you for making things like honor, faith, kindness, honesty, passion, and determination natural aspects of my character development. Without your positive influence and high expectations, I would never have the moral guidance to act in a way that I can curl up with at night. I am comfortable in what I do, how I act, because you instilled goodness in me.

Thank you for not taking my crap. Excessive complaining was not allowed in our household, in our family, and that did more for me than I could ever express - dealing with challenges in life, making them an opportunity for growth, is the only way to handle the tough stuff, and without that, I surely would have crumbled over here.

Thank you for teaching me the value of laughing at myself. There is just no other way to deal with consistent "stomach adjustment," communication breakdowns across language barriers, or falling on your face in front of 70 youth.

Thank you for letting me practice my ultra-independence, and not saying "I told you so" when it blows up in my face :) If I did not have the self-reliance gene, integrating into this new culture so well would have been entirely impossible.

Thank you for being excited to hear my voice, even for a few minutes. Even when I don't act like it, say it, or show it, having your support is the only way I could be so comfortable in Kenya, so determined. Making you proud is one of the best things I could ever ask for.

Thank you for letting me figure out who I am, and dealing with all the hypocrisy, liberal rants, 10-minute fads, and long amounts of time that always takes. I may never get there, but this process of finding a place in the world that I can be comfortable in, proud of, and impassioned about is one of the most important things I will ever do, and without the space and "ok, do what you have to do" mentality that you approach my random ideas with, I would have never done work in Louisiana or Indianapolis, never gone to Chatham, never come to Kenya - there would be a lot of 'nevers' on my life resume.

And thank you for doing all the things that I never thank you for. There are far to many to count, but thank you for arranging my loans for me so that I can come to Kenya but still pay for school; thank you for driving or flying half way across the country to help me pack my business or arrange for a new year; thank you for waking up in the middle of the night to answer a collect call from your daughter who is stranded in New York; thank you for keeping my fish tank passion alive, even when you know I dont have time for it; thank you for checking my bank balance and cell phone minutes because you know I'm an airhead. Thank you.

To my friends with children, even when we don't act like it, we appriciate all the crap you put up with in raising us - it's the most thankless and difficult job on the planet, hands down. To my friends with parents (note: that's all of you): thank them more often, whether face to face, on the phone, in a letter, or silently recognizing how great you are because of them.

I could not have done any of this without you, Mom and Dad. I love you.

A Completed Project

Last Thursday might have been the best day of my life. Everything came together at the Remand Home and I've never felt that kind of straight-up wholesome happiness - it was unreal. It was the first time I saw the tables and bookshelf that got delivered earlier in the week, the white board was installed, I brought school supplies for the kids to start using, and the mural was finished. Even though it was the first time I visited the Home without Roo (whose Mom was in the hospital at the time), it was amazing. Didn't have my camera that day - kicked myself- but these are from yesterday when workbooks got delivered.

Roo used the space for a Paralegal Clinic to break it in, so it wasn't exactly school, but the same concept: this was actually the perfect day to take pictures because it had been storming for hours, so the entire compound was muddy (as you'll see) and without this space, the kids would have been shut in the sleep quarters, doing absolutely nothing except going crazy. Understanding that while seeing them so excited about writing in their 8 cent notebooks was perfect. There are 6 of these tables and, this is off topic, but the 'dryer' is behind them: windows.

When I showed up for the first time with these books, handing them school materials collectively worth less than a dime that still put a huge smile on their face was straight-up one of the best things I've ever done. Think about this: after I handed one of the little boys a notebook and pencil, he jumped up and down, squealing, and said he'd never owned something that nice before. Wow.

Fellow students and adults who can still remember this far back (ha), we write papers all the time - weekly, even - that are turned in, read (or skimmed, depending), and then a letter is put at the top to rate the quality. A few weeks ago, I did the same thing - basically wrote a paper - for a grant, and it had real world, awesome impacts that I got to see in the past week. I can't stress how surreal that was: I constantly had to leave the room while they were bustling over the newness of their materials just to collect myself long enough to come back and instruct them on what to do. Yes, I nearly cried.

After I distributed all the materials last week, I left to compose my stupid emotional self (which was partly a result of understanding this would be one of my last times with the kids, so it was justified, in my defense). When I came back, they had all organized themselves into classes...seperated one another by grade levels, the older girls stepped up to the white board and started working on 3-letter words with smaller kids who huddled around a table in the front. The rest of the older kids were waiting on me, so asked what I wanted them to do then...

So I told them to write about their lives. It was Friday, the volunteer teacher wasn't coming until next week, but I knew they couldn't wait - it was SO "Freedom Writers." Circles of teenagers were scattered all over the room helping one another with the English spellings and when one would finish, they'd run up their progress to me so I could read - the stories were unreal. Some were about how happy they were to be in the Home now, to be safe and have food, so felt so blessed by God, and others were accounts of what they'd experienced before coming here. You can only imagine what they were like. Oh my gosh, I get chills thinking about it...

This is where their class would have been yesterday if the room wasn't finished. In the back is the sleeping quarters where they would have been locked up and the bucket there is the dish washer. I took more pictures of the facilities yesterday too that'll be on Facebook - there are too many for here. I'm talking with my FSD contacts to discuss building them a sports hall - something larger and open-air, just covered, where they can run around - because this is inadequate for releasing the energy kids have so much of.

I can't stress how unreal this experience is - I'm applying all of those skills we learn and use over and over again in the Academy to do something useful. I'd like to say I don't do this for the rewarding feeling, and I really don't think that's the huge, overarching, motivating factor, but looking back at how stressful the grant process was at times and seeing how well it paid off now - how happy it's making these kids and doing something legit for them - is like nothing else.

In exactly one week, I'll be on a bus to Nairobi for a mini vacation with Ruweidah before boarding a plane to the States. Said this once before, but I'm redundant: that's unreal, friends.

Forest to Beach in 2.5

I became a tourist on Sunday. The majority of my time here has been spent doing very non-touristy things (spending time with the family, working and all that entails, or attending the numerous programs FSD arranges for us) but, with 2 weeks left, thought it was about time I joined in on the fun. So Ruweidah - my partner in crime at MUHURI - and two other interns with FSD went on an adventure through Forest Hills, something like a conservation area with beautiful trails. The picture to the right is my favorite of Ruweidah and I so far...completely captures our relationship: crazy mzungu doing something silly, getting funny looks from her Kenyan friend :)
This is a preview of the types of trails we walked down...can I say breathtaking?? Sarah and Aliyah, who were the other interns, are both from California and said it reminded them of the huge trees there. At one point, we found our surroundings hella creepy because it was far too similar to those scenes from "Are You Afriad of the Dark" that played on Nickolodeon when we were younger. There was a similar park down the road that wanted to charge us the tourist price (which was 6x more expensive) even though we had papers proving we were working in Mombasa. Had we gone there, we could have fed giraffes, saw alligators and hippos in a swamp, and done mountain biking, but we were stubborn. So at this park, we walked these trails by ourselves, played on a playground, and enjoyed some really sweet views.





Our favorite part was probably playing on the 'kids enjoyment' area of the park: what they didn't know is that we're all kids at heart :) I can't ever take a serious picture, as most of you know, so while on the swings, Roo acted normal while Jenn pretended to be a flying acrobat. At one point, the other two conspired to push two little children off the teeter totter so they could have a turn. Know this: you can take the child out of America, but you can't take the child out of the child while in Kenya.

Aliyah had a great time with the "wittle camels" on the beach that we visited right across from Forest Trails. As I've said, the beaches are to die for - beautiful white sand, greens and blues in the ocean, endless shore line - breathtaking. Roo and I plan to go back and ride these because it looked like way too much fun to pass up. Very tood time. The tourist industry is booming on the shores: behind Aliyah, numerous people were displaying their woodwork, art work, bead work, and random artifacts they'd made out of ocean materials (shells, drift wood, etc) so it was really cool. Very talented people.


I leave in 2ish weeks. That's surreal. Not that I'm not excited to come home to you all again, but I've adapted to this place so well, grown to love and appricate Mombasa culture and the folks here, that coming home is heartbreaking. I've got plenty of reports to complete before then, so my mind and time will be occupied, hopefully making the last days easier. Hope your summer is wrapping up well.

My Crib

I realize it's nice to have a mental image of what I'm talking about when I share stories, so this is a viritual tour of my house. (I promise I format this better before I press the "Publish" button...after that, cyberspace takes over and jacks it all up. Sorry). This Sunday, I took a mental health day - some Jenn time - after working 6 straight days with a crazy amount of people that can drive this introvert insane. My house mama and the kids went to the family compound where she grew up and her brothers, sisters, nieces, nephews, and parents all live, so I took a few pictures while they were gone. This is the front room (I'm standing where the enterence is). Understand that everything is very simple, but more than sufficient - I'm extremely comfortable, more so than I expected actually. Behnid that glass and the door are the clothes my mama sells out of the house - many special-occassion dresses and accessories that supplement their income.
This is the hallway to the kitchen on the left, the pantry after that, the toilet, and wash room, then on the right, the clothes room, my room, and the family's sleeping room. How's this for uncomfortable: I have a room to myself with 3 beds in it (2 are bunked, you'll see) and everyone else shares. That's part of FSD's policy - interns must have a room to themselves in the home stays, which makes sense and most days, I demand that kind of privacy and power as an escape, but it's uncomfortable to know they're accomodating me this much.

This is the kitchen. The fridge works well but Kenyan's don't keep leftovers for long - chances are, if there is more food after a meal, the remains will be breakfast in the morning or dinner the next night, which I never mind. The food is unbelievable because it's all made fresh from 'scratch' as we would call it. On the table in the left, there's a stove top with 2 burners, a microwave, and toaster oven. The larger compound with my house mama's family has a larger oven where she can cook breads and such, and she constantly talks about how she wishes she had access to one more often - she likes to cook :)

This is my humble abode. The larger bed is usually where the oldest sleeps and the bunk beds are for the two boys. The youngest, Fatma, generally sleeps with her parents in a small bed, so knowing all this is very uncomfortable - I know they wished they could sleep in their ordinary beds. Don't ask why the bunk beds aren't moved into the parent's bedroom - I dont know because it would make so much more sense. They usually sleep on a matress to the side of their parents bed which is so adorable - when I walk past the room to brush my teeth, they're dog piled on the floor in one of the best Kodak moments I've ever seen. There's a door behind the bunk beds that opens up to a balcony that I frequently sit on, making my house mama extremely nervous. We're on the third floor of an apartment complex so sitting this high up is just crazy to her - some things never change :)

This is the toilet. Seperating the toilet and shower never made so much sense - you do completely different things in them! At the bed and breakfast we stayed at, they were literally the same room - there wasn't a stall for the shower, just a showerhead that let water fall into the tiled room with a toilet and sink, so the toilet was generally drenched after we showered - it was halarious. Muslim culture is very clean, so water is used to clean yourself after going to the bathroom, making the whole place full of standing water and I slipped last week, hitting my tail bone on that darn step. I was coming down with the flu so already in a bad mood, and I think my house mama was ready to call the ER. I was stubborn and just said I was fine, limping to my room holding my back, afraid I wouldn't be able to sit down for a month. I'm fine though - no worries :)

This is the washroom. We take bucket showers that are always an interesting experience. I'm learning the art of water conservation and I dont mean turning off the facuet while you brush your teeth, my friends :) I mean I literally can shower, wash my hair and underclothes (as they're called and always washed by the interns - it'd be taboo for the house help to wash them) with 2 gallons of water. It's amazing how far it can stretch but it has to - most days, everyone else takes two showers or more, which just means pouring the cold water over themselves. Frequently, Adnarn comes walking in my room completely drenched because he just poured water on himself to cool off, I'd expect. He shakes like a dog and I get the backwater. It's becoming a fun routine :)

Hope you enjoyed. Once again, I'm very comfortable and have adjusted nicely to the place, which I'd assume is considered upper-middle class around here (because frankly, I think sleeping on the streets is a class - different from the States).

Keep writing. Love hearing from home(s)!

The Beginning...

I just spent the day with 70+ kids who've never held a paint brush trying to cover oil-based walls with water-based paint and had an absolute blast. Some folks from MUHURI came (including my supervisor and the CEO of sorts, which was a pleasant surprise...) and we let the kids perform (which I filmed), played frisbee and futbol, drank juices with lunch, and almost got the dining hall painted. Story in pictures:

A great deal of the paralegals that I run into once in awhile while transitioning from the prisons to MUHURI offices to the Remand Home came out to play. My "boss," Fatma, is in the front wearing green and Husna (who loves to ask my opnion on social hot topics) is next to her. In the back you can see what will one day (with enough funding) become a kitchen made out of stone and the dining hall behind the tree.

While the walls were being washed, we had the kids dance for us. This is an awesome story: half of Mombasa is down with the flu due to the change from rain season to heat season, including me, and this week Roo and I both felt like caacaa at the Home. So after doing some paralegal things with the kids, slept under a tree to give them time with the spiritual leaders. After we woke up and felt just as bad, they all organized and danced/sang for us to make us feel better! The dances they performed today were very similar - they perform with an abandon that puts our self-consciousness to shame, my friends.

This is the head honcho, Hussein, who runs MUHURI. There are three different projects going on right now and he manages them all with a casual leadership that I adore - I've rarely seen CEO types work up a sweat playing futbol with a bunch of kids in remand or get down and dirty with paint, but he showed up a lot of the younger folks today! You can see how much brighter the walls look with this paint - even though I found my perfectionist self getting frustrated with kids doing up-down strokes then side-to-side strokes or the paint not working well because of the oil-water mixture, everyone was extactic about how fresh it started to look. We'll have to go back on Monday to add a final coat that hopefully makes it look more complete, then the carpenter will begin installing shelves at the end of the wall in this picture, a white board will be put where Hussein is painting, and we'll line tables down the middle for classes and such.

And if anything was a success today, it was playing. I brought my frisbee and we found a ragged soccer ball so all the kids were running around doing recreation things they never get the chance to do...made my whole trip. Getting this shy girl to take a picture with me was an accomplishment in itself. After the day was done, it was hard to remember that they have some sort of issue with the law - more than half are "Children in Need of Care and Protection" so haven't committed a crime, rather are victims, so seeing them play around today was simply beautiful.

And this just sums it up...putting young folks in front of a camera is like putting light infront of flies - they flock. Everyone who wanted to got a chance to help paint and will get to help with the mural later in the week. Fatma is pictured here with them and at this point, we've pretty much called it a day because trying to put more paint on top of barely-dry paint was just a mess. I had an absolute blast and can't believe this is how I'm spending my summer - definately nothing like I imagined but better than I could have ever hoped for. More updates to come soon.

Superwhatever.

Oh my gosh! I figured it out...my camera was on the highest quality image setting, making the file size HUGE! So, expect more of these in the coming weeks, but right now, I only have time to upload a picture of the resort I stayed at this weekend for a retreat. Absolutely stunning. The picture doesn't even really do it justice. What makes me uncomfortable, though, is seeing this amazing atmosphere that is booming with tourism (or was, before the winter violence) and then walk outside this compound to folks begging for change. The financial disparity is astounding...we thought there was a large wage gap in America...folks, we haven't seen anything.

I'm stealing the title of this post from Rob Bell, who's book I'm reading right now. He just got done talking about how we try to become Superwhatevers in our lives - you know, Superdad, Superstudent, Superfriend, SuperRA, Supergirlfriend, etc. In reading his words about such things, I realized one of the things I like most about Kenya is the lack of people trying to be Superwhatevers. Competition isn't dripping from relationships or workplaces. There is a drastically lower population of folks sacrificing people for a paycheck. Being 'Super' is just not a priority when we're trying to get food in mouths or medicines into bodies.

Now, when I type these blogs and talk in generalities about Kenyans or Americans or whomever, realize that I fully understand this is not true of all people - there are amazing people in America not trying to outshine others or take on the world and some folks in Kenya are placing orders for a spandex uniform with an "S" on the front. But...

I am more than guilty of trying to be Superstudent, Supersister, Superdaughter, Superwhatever. It becomes a game: how many meetings can I attend around helping friends, investing a few hours in homework, going to classes 5 minutes early, and travelling home for the weekend to surprise my family (which was a blast). But now that I've existed in this more lax environment for a good 5 weeks now, that seems so silly. I'm not doing anyone justice running myself into the ground, and neither are you. Putting in 90 hours a week doesn't make loved ones any more comfortable than your presence; spending a ton of money on a gift for your girl/boyfriend won't make them love you anymore; and for crying out loud, we've got to stop scheduling back-to-back meetings and such. Running out of one early to arrive at another late isn't helping anyone.

Rob Bell tells us to go out back and kill our Superwhatevers. To look at what we're trying to be, realize we're not doing a good job and never will, and accept the reality of our flaws, embracing them. Take a day off. Go play with some kids (because it's theraputic if it's not an obligation). Kill the Superwhatever. I'm working on it.

Unexpected Acceptance

When I was preparing for this trip, many experienced travellers or natives of this area warned me about holding my tounge - putting a filter on the liberal rants I am, at times, known for. I'm generally considered a liberal by all accounts in the States, so in the conservative Muslim area of Mombasa, I might as well march the streets in rainbow tie-dye, walking to the beat of Buffalo Springfield (if you missed the 60's cultural reference...go Google it now. I mean that Jodie).

Today I was sitting down to lunch with Roo and an older womyn from MUHURI - both practicing Muslims and from what I had gathered overhearing previous conversations, extremely conservative (even though they both work for a Humyn Rights organization, liberating womyn...go figure). The news was playing in the background, and I was transfixed on some story about a boat capsizing in Asia somewhere, and Husna turned around to see what grabbed my attention. It was a horrid story - 100+ people died in the random collapse of this boat, so the families were shown crying and such. I couldn't help but think about how awful it would be to die like that, to have family die like that. And, I kid you not, after watching a few seconds of the clip, this womyn turned around and said it's "probably for the best. They're overpopulated anyway."

I spit. Almost literally spit out my food. All I could do was stare.
For those that know me well, the fact that I held my tounge was an act of God. But I did. I'm proud.
Then, for crying out loud, she started talking about how God plans for things like that - about how we have to balance the world somehow, although "the tsunamis made me sad - so many people." I couldn't believe that I was listening to this extremely religous womyn - one whom I had a monumental amount of respect for - quantifying how 'sad' an event was based on the number of deaths. But, again, I held my tounge.

The next story on the news was something about futbol, and she quickly asked me what America was doing with Beckham (I guess we 'bought' him, or something - I'd heard other interns talking about it, so I had a vague idea, although sadly don't follow much soccer). I informed her of my limited up-to-date knowledge, and guessed he was in California somewhere, and the sound of that state set her off. She looked at me with a piercing gaze and explained that she'd been "following" the same-sex marriage laws (fully expecting me to jump on her gay-hating bandwagon) and couldn't believe that so many people were getting married like that. Roo jumped in, gawking at a story about "two old womyn who'd just married each other."

Bless her heart, Husna asked what I thought. I quickly told her with a grin that she didn't want to know. But she persisted. So...my tounge untied itself.

I told her that I had absolutely no problem with that - that I completely supported the actions of the California legislature in passing the law and was happy that individuals who had been in love for years could now share the same rights as their hetersexual counterparts. I told her it didn't bother me at all. Both looked shocked, and Roo's only response was "But Jenn, you're Christian!!"

Ha, I love that one.

I rationally and quite calmly explained that I really believed all religions worshiped a God who upheld love above anything else, and I know that God loves when we're happy, so if our happiness is found in loving someone of the same sex, that I think God is totally down for that. She seemed ok with this. In fact, she nodded.

Nodded. That's big.

So we continued to have this conversation for a few more exchanges, and at the end, she said "You know, I still disagree. Not only because I'm a Muslim and we disagree. Not only because I'm Kenyan and our laws disagree. But I do. It's ok though, that's ok. We can disagree." And that was that. We walked away still respecting one another (ok, I have a little problem understanding how she can empower womyn - that's literally her job - but disempower gay women...another battle for another day). I was floored - after I initially opened my big mouth, I was sure MUHURI would ask me to step down as their intern and Argarn would send me packing.

It's interesting how such different people - two womyn with 30 years between them, practicing different religions (that we assume are polar opposites), working in differnt capacities, living in different countries - can have a conversation about such a political 'hot topic' and end so passively...I can tell you that most of my rights discussions in the States don't end with smiles. It was more than encouraging - it was relieving. I hope I can return to to America, to Chatham, with such an ease about these things, leaving my soap box in Kenya to rot.

Don't hold your breath. But I'll try :)