Below is the article I recently wrote for Iatrogenesis, IUSOM's student newspaper.
Expectations of Kenya
“Was it what you expected?” is probably the most common question I get about my elective in Kenya. It’s a hard question to answer, because I don’t think I went into the experience with any specific expectations. Or if I did, I no longer remember what they were. Yet somehow, living as a Kenyan medical student for two months far exceeded the expectations I did not know that I had. How is that possible? After nine weeks back in the U.S., that’s a question I’m still trying to answer.
I loved my trip to Kenya. I watched hippos on Lake Victoria; took a sunrise hike to the highest point in Kakamega Rainforest; fed eagles on Lake Baringo; cooked lunch in Lake Bagoria’s hot springs; went white water rafting on the Nile in Uganda; and took a three-day safari on Masai Mara National Reserve. Adventures aside, Kenya was much more than a two-month vacation for me. I made friends – good friends – of many nationalities, races, and cultures: Kenyan, Ugandan, American, Canadian, Dutch, Swedish, and Indian. I found in these communities a wide variety of people with whom I could truly relate. I discovered, to my immense surprise, that we are all very much the same at a basic level, regardless of color or nationality. Did I ever expect to learn this lesson from a medical school elective? Certainly not. And certainly not in Eldoret, Kenya.
While working on the wards at Moi Teaching and Referral Hospital, I found that the bond I had with my patients was as strong as any I had experienced in the U.S. Contrary to one of my primary concerns about the elective, language was not an issue. If anything, I learned that language at times can be a hindrance; allowing us to gloss over sensitive patient issues with a carefully chosen word or a deliberately ambiguous question. When words are no longer a concern, eye contact, facial expressions, gestures, and actions become universal and are more than sufficient. I could give my 52-year old CHF patient a bright smile every morning, which she would immediately reward with a smile of her own and rapid, animated Swahili. Over two months, I saw dozens of mothers being told that their 18-month old children were definitively HIV-negative. My congratulatory hugs did more to connect us than words ever could have. The abandoned children that lived on the ward knew that I cared about them because I smiled at them, hugged them, and played with them every day; not because I could tell them how precious they were in their native tongue. Did I expect that my connection with patients would be enhanced by the fact that we didn’t speak the same language? No.
Of course, I also learned a lot of medical stuff while I was Kenya. Treatment protocols for TB, malaria, HIV, meningitis, and malnutrition that were so foreign in August became second nature by September, and sadly were forgotten by November. But that’s all just book learning anyway; book learning that was the primary reason I went over, and the first thing that I forgot when I got back. I continue to think about Kenya on a daily basis, and I almost never think about all of the factual information I gleaned from the rotation. Could I have ever imagined that medical knowledge would become the least important part of a medical elective? Never.
While my experience in Kenya was beyond fantastic, I realize that this elective is not for everyone. The cost alone is prohibitive for many; and work, home, and family obligations do not allow others the luxury of spending two months away. However, I think that one of the most valuable aspects of the IU-Kenya program is the chance to see medicine practiced outside of the Ivory Tower walls of IU. Members of my class have done electives in Tanzania, Nigeria, Honduras, Haiti, and even Yellowstone National Park. The great thing about fourth year is that it can give us a much wider range of experience than third year clerkships alone, experiences that teach us much more about medicine than simply book learning. Whether fourth year is right around the corner or is some far-off dream in the distance, consider doing an elective outside of the med center. Even if it is ‘just’ at a local community hospital, you never know how valuable that experience may be to your training. It may even exceed your wildest expectations.
Monday, December 3, 2007
Monday, October 29, 2007
A month later
Is it true? Can it be? Have I really been home for a whole month now?
What with a lot of people to see, a lot of pictures to share, and an overly full to-do list, the month has flown, and I feel like I've had little time to actually reflect on my experiences, and what it's been like to be home. Now that I've seen a lot of my people, spent many hours sharing pictures, and checked a few things off of my list -- including one very big one today: "Take Step 2" -- I think I can say a little bit more about October. Primarily, that it's been hard. First off, going from the most amazing 2 month elective to one that I'm less than thrilled about has understandably induced some depression. Of course, I don't think I could have scheudled anything in October that wouldn't have paled in comparison to Kenya.
And the rest of life has just been...life. You know, the random minutiae that must be dealt with on a day to day basis. Stuff that, in the end, really doesn't matter, but you still have to do it just the same. Going to work, coming home, housework, homework, meetings, assignments, tests, etc.... it's all just such a drag. Much more so than usual. I find myself, strangely unfulfilled.... in a way that I wasn't before. Not to say that there's anything wrong with my life. Not at all. I just experienced the fullness that my life /could/ have... all of the things it /could/ be... and now that it's not like that anymore... well, it just sucks. I know it sounds weird, to be happy and not happy at the same time. I guess the best way to describe it is going into your attic to find your favorite painting has been stored in the sunlight for years, and now the colors are less bright, less vivid, and it won't ever be the same again.
And of course I've channeled all of these emotions into busy-ness and a full schedule... until this afternoon, when all I could think about was Kenya. This afternoon was also my scheduled time to start taking out my braids, which, at 6:20, I still haven't started yet. To be quite honest it makes me sad. Once I start, there's no turning back -- I don't imagine half-braided hair would look good at all. If I didn't have my first interview in a few weeks, I think I'd leave it in longer, but I suppose the longer I leave it in the harder it will be to take out (logistically and emotionally). It's about the hair and it's not about the hair. I can't remember the last time -- if ever -- I had a hairstyle that I liked every single day and that took about 60 seconds every morning. I really think I've gotten a significant amount more sleep this month than I would have otherwise. So yeah, I'm really gonna miss that. But, it's more about what the hair represents. On any give day in clinic 2-5 parents would ask me about my hair, how long it took , was it all my own hair etc. It was an automatic and easy way to talk about Kenya, I got to do it 2-5 times a day, and I didn't even have to be the one to bring it up. With my hair, it felt like a small part of me was still in Kenya, still a part of the country. And after it's gone...it's almost like my last tie to Kenya in the US will be falling on the floor in chunks along with my synthetic extensions. The other huge thing is that I said goodbye to Joe and Sarah Ellen on Sunday, as Wednesday they're heading back to Eldoret after their month in the States.
Goodbye to the Mamlins, goodbye to my hair... it's like all those difficult goodbyes from a month ago are happening all over again. No matter how hard I've tried to cover it up and move on, a month later, I still miss Kenya just as much as I did the day I left.
What with a lot of people to see, a lot of pictures to share, and an overly full to-do list, the month has flown, and I feel like I've had little time to actually reflect on my experiences, and what it's been like to be home. Now that I've seen a lot of my people, spent many hours sharing pictures, and checked a few things off of my list -- including one very big one today: "Take Step 2" -- I think I can say a little bit more about October. Primarily, that it's been hard. First off, going from the most amazing 2 month elective to one that I'm less than thrilled about has understandably induced some depression. Of course, I don't think I could have scheudled anything in October that wouldn't have paled in comparison to Kenya.
And the rest of life has just been...life. You know, the random minutiae that must be dealt with on a day to day basis. Stuff that, in the end, really doesn't matter, but you still have to do it just the same. Going to work, coming home, housework, homework, meetings, assignments, tests, etc.... it's all just such a drag. Much more so than usual. I find myself, strangely unfulfilled.... in a way that I wasn't before. Not to say that there's anything wrong with my life. Not at all. I just experienced the fullness that my life /could/ have... all of the things it /could/ be... and now that it's not like that anymore... well, it just sucks. I know it sounds weird, to be happy and not happy at the same time. I guess the best way to describe it is going into your attic to find your favorite painting has been stored in the sunlight for years, and now the colors are less bright, less vivid, and it won't ever be the same again.
And of course I've channeled all of these emotions into busy-ness and a full schedule... until this afternoon, when all I could think about was Kenya. This afternoon was also my scheduled time to start taking out my braids, which, at 6:20, I still haven't started yet. To be quite honest it makes me sad. Once I start, there's no turning back -- I don't imagine half-braided hair would look good at all. If I didn't have my first interview in a few weeks, I think I'd leave it in longer, but I suppose the longer I leave it in the harder it will be to take out (logistically and emotionally). It's about the hair and it's not about the hair. I can't remember the last time -- if ever -- I had a hairstyle that I liked every single day and that took about 60 seconds every morning. I really think I've gotten a significant amount more sleep this month than I would have otherwise. So yeah, I'm really gonna miss that. But, it's more about what the hair represents. On any give day in clinic 2-5 parents would ask me about my hair, how long it took , was it all my own hair etc. It was an automatic and easy way to talk about Kenya, I got to do it 2-5 times a day, and I didn't even have to be the one to bring it up. With my hair, it felt like a small part of me was still in Kenya, still a part of the country. And after it's gone...it's almost like my last tie to Kenya in the US will be falling on the floor in chunks along with my synthetic extensions. The other huge thing is that I said goodbye to Joe and Sarah Ellen on Sunday, as Wednesday they're heading back to Eldoret after their month in the States.
Goodbye to the Mamlins, goodbye to my hair... it's like all those difficult goodbyes from a month ago are happening all over again. No matter how hard I've tried to cover it up and move on, a month later, I still miss Kenya just as much as I did the day I left.
Monday, October 1, 2007
The Journey Home
My week of "vacation" in Eldoret was anything but, especially the last half of the week. The many friends I made while in Kenya were a blessing, but when it came time to leave they all wanted to say goodbye to us, which really made for quite the busy social calendar.
On Monday we had goodbye lunch with Laurien, then on Tuesday it was goodbye and evaluation lunch with Hao. On Wednesday I had goodbye lunch with Joy, then it was our last dinner out with IU house that night. On Thursday our medicine Registrar Dr. Akwanalo took our team out for lunch, then that night it was our last dinner at IU house. On Friday our pediatric registrar Julia invited us to her home for a delicious lunch, which we could only stay for an hour of before we had to catch our plane.
Full and sad, we said our goodbyes to friends at IU house, then jumped into one of 3 taxis that had been hired to transport us and our tons of stuff to the Eldoret airport. The 3 cars weren't /all/ for us -- we happened to be going back at the same time as 2 other Indy people: Ellen and Dave who were in Eldoret on behalf of the Umoja project. Priti and my luggage had been sitting in the office, and as we were standing outside for goodbyes, we hadn't actually witnessed the drivers loading it into the cars. I was just about to jump into our cab, when my paranoid personality took over, and I ran into the office just to make sure that everything had been loaded. I'm glad that I did, because my smaller duffel bag carry-on was still sitting in the office; which included, among many other important things, my passport and my plane ticket from Eldoret to Nairobi.
Our time of departure from IU house was projected to be 2:00 in order to make our 3:00 flight, which in KT was really about 2:20 or so. On the way to the airport, our driver stopped to get gas, which in Kenya (of course) is no short 5 minute stop. Especially when your driver gets out and talks to everyone he knows on the street. Now, I realized that flights in Kenya probably also operated on KT, but I was still a little nervous when we pulled out of the gas station with about 25 minutes to go before our flight took off. Luckily our driver thought he was Speed Racer, so we made it to the airport in about 20 minutes or so. We arrived just behind Ellen and Dave's car, so we all grabbed our own luggage and headed into the airport...except... it wasn't all there. Priti was missing her big suitcase and I was missing the IU trunk jammed full of Stuff that I bought. Short moment of panic later, the drivers assured us that it was already inside -- apparently the 3rd taxi had come earlier with just those 2 pieces of luggage, and the other 2 taxis were for people and the rest of our luggage. Kenyan efficiency at its finest, but we didn't really have time to question. (As it turns out, the car with our 2 errant bags had been sent to pick up the pilots of the flight we were about to get on...so at least we were really in small danger of missing the flight).
After passing through "security" in the Eldoret airport, we approached the one and only ticket counter. Sure enough, behind the counter and already on the luggage belt were our missing suitcases -- they apparently had already passed through security without any escort. Hmm... Speaking of our luggage, there was a 10 kg (22 lb) limit TOTAL per person for all luggage, which clearly we were way, WAY over. The total overage was 5,000 some shillings which is about 100 dollars. Yikes. I guess they count on how much muzungus like their stuff. And actually we had so much luggage that they wanted to send us on the 3pm flight to Nairobi with some of our luggage and then send the rest of our luggage on the 6pm flight. We told them in no uncertain terms that that was completely unacceptable and not an option. We were paying enough, we wanted to make darn sure that our luggage actually got to Nairobi, not to mention not leave our property sitting in Eldoret unattended for several hours. Oh yes and also the flights into Nairobi fly into dinky little Wilson airport, and international flights out are from the much larger Jomo Kenyatta airport that is clear across the city. We would have had to be at Wilson at 7:00 to pick up our bags. No, I don't think so. Our bags were on the flight with us. Checking in provided another challenge in that Dave didn't have his return ticket. It was a huge miscommuncation that involved at least one phone call and at least one turning inside out of Dave's bag. It was worked out about 3:10. We then turned around to walk to the "gate" (literally, directly behind us), and as soon as we started walking that way the entirety of the people waiting also got up and headed for the door. Clearly, we had been holding up the flight.
Like sardines into a can, 15 or so people crammed onto the smallest plane I've ever been on. Well, maybe a few of the planes I flew on on transplant surgery were a bit smaller, or at least the same size, but on those planes we had 3 to 5 people max. This plane was one of those twin prop deals, with no bathroom and no cargo area -- everyone's luggage was just piled up in the back of the plane.
The ride to Nairobi was... hot and nauseating but blessedly short, only about an hour. The birds-eye views of the beautiful countryside were almost worth the price of admission. Really the flight was extremely turbulant, and poor Priti ended up throwing up onto the aisle toward the end. Even after a short 60 mintues, I have never been so glad to be back on the ground.
We unloaded our luggage at Wilson. Priti has a family friend that lives in Nairobi, and he came to pick us up at the airport. His name is Narendu, and amazingly all of our luggage, plus the three of us, fit into his small Nissan. He drove us back through the city to his house, where we met his wife and his two kids -- a very nice family. They took us on a short drive through the area around their neighborhood; took us to a VERY nice mall with a HUGE market that I could have spent significant time in, and they even drove us past the US Embassy in Nairobi. It was... big... very American-looking. Surrounded by high walls, barbed wire, and lots of signs warning against picture taking or film making of any kind. Apparently absolutely nothing inside is foreign -- even the pens are imported from America. Hmmm... I couldn't help but wonder: At what point do you pass secure and get to paranoia? At what point do such extrememe measures actually compromise security by making everyone live in a constant state of fear? I'm not sure...
After a brief and delicious meal back at their house, it was time to jet off to Jomo Kenyatta. Now, Shawn at IU House had told us to get to the airport around 7:00 for our 10:00 flight. Narendu said if we left his house by 7:30 to get to the airport by 8:15 we would be fine. Not wanting to argue with our host and source of transportation, we went with his plan. Nairobi is a big city, but Kenya is still Kenya, so Narendu (being Indian) does not drive at night. They actually have a (Kenyan) driver named Peter, and he took us to the airport. Traffic is absolutely horrendous in Nairobi, and we spent more time sitting than actually driving. Again, I realized that even at the international airport things are probably still run on KT, but still... missing the one and only daily flight to Amsterdam was not really something I wanted to do; not really the best way to start my trip home. It was about 8:15 by the time we reached the outskirts of the airport.
We approached the police roadblock/security checkpoint, and we were waved over by two policemen. They came up to Peter's window and were speaking in rapid Swahili to him. Then, Peter stepped out of the car and disappeared into the shadows with one of the policemen. Yeah, heart started beating a little faster just then. The other cop stayed by the car, and was shining his flaslight in the windows at us, directly in our faces. He was going on and on about how the two suitcases stacked on the seat beside me (in the back seat) were dangerous and there's no way we could be allowed to go on like that. Yeah... I'm /sure/ that my safety was the first priority on his mind. But, I tried to be overly polite, just explaining yes, thank you for your concern, but we're on our way back to AMERICA (stress the AMERICA part) after 2 months in Kenya, and we had a lot of luggage, and the boot was full. Still, the flashlight-holding cop lectured on and Peter had not returned. Meanwhile, there are groups of random people (men) walking by the car, stopping to look in the windows, and I can see the lights from the airport up ahead of us. In everything I've been through in Kenya, that was the first experience I had where I was really, truly scared; or felt threatened by a person.
After what seemed like an eternity, Peter came back to the car. When we asked him if the cop wanted money, he said yes, but he was arguing with him and wouldn't give him any. I almost wanted to shout WHAT?!? at him. OF COURSE give him money! You don't argue with a man with a semi-automatic weapon strapped to his back, no matter the superiority of your position! Give him the money man! I just want to go HOME!!! The real issue was that Peter didn't have much on him, so the cop was telling him to ask us for money (being the wealthy Americans.) Which, by the way, I WOULD have given to him. But, Peter was explaining to the cop that we were the guests of his employer, so to ask us for money would have been unforgiveably rude. Moreover, our mood was not likely to be improved by the fact that the more they argued, the higher the chance we would miss our flight home. While it's admirable that Peter was trying to do the right thing... seriously man... just give him some money. The solution they worked out was that the cop kept Peter's license and he was free to drop us off at the airport; but, he had to stop there again on the way out and "argue" (pay??) with the cop some more. I sincerely hope it turned out ok for him.
How such blatant and disgusting corruption can exist in such a beautiful country is beyond me... it was really not what I wanted one of my last memories of Kenya to be, though I suppose it's a dose of reality.
At any rate, Peter got us to the terminal. Everything thereafter until we got on the plane was just stressful. Of course we felt like we were running rather late. We had to get carts, as we had 4 bags apiece, and then to even get into the airport you have to pass through security screening. The guy outside the door was giving us a hard time about not having our tickets -- which of course we didn't have yet because we hadn't even checked in yet...we finally got to pass through security -- unload the carts, take out liquids, take off jacket, take off shoes, show passport, go through screening, then scramble to collect all of your belongings in reverse, while trying to find replacement carts for the ones you left outside... it was just a huge hassle. Then we had to stand in another line to have our luggage weighed. The guy told me my suitcase was too heavy. Yes, I know, but I can pay extra, yes? Oh, you want to pay? Yes. Because your suitcase is too heavy. YES, THANK YOU. It was not a shining moment on my part.
My luggage appropriately labeled, we then get in another (much longer) line to check in. The woman checking passports wanted to know why we didn't have our tickets. Because we haven't checked in yet! We are standing IN LINE to CHECK IN!!! Meanwhile we're also trying to fill out our immigration/declaration papers while juggling 4 bags apiece on big carts, trying to write and maneuver through the long turnstyles at the same time. Luckily it was such a horrendously frustrating experience that we just laughed about it. I was so glad that Priti was there though, and we could help eachother out. If she hadn't been there I might have had a nervous breakdown. We finally get to the front of the line about 9:00. It turns out the guy checking me in is originally from Eldoret, so we had a nice conversation about that. He was so busy chatting that he didn't charge me for my extra heavy bag (clearly labeled) and I wasn't about to speak up about that one. Bags checked, tickets in hand, we wait in yet another line to clear customs/immigration, then upstairs to the terminal. Nairobi is another one of those airports that does security screening at the gate, so we immediately get into yet another line to go through the gate security checkpoint. Well, Priti got in line and juggled 4 bags while I went to the bathroom, then we switched. Also, we both had quite a bit of Kenyan money left that we didn't want to take with us, so Priti ran off down the terminal to find an exchange place while I scooted/juggled our 4 bags again. She got back just in time for us to start going through security. I called Mike for just a quick hi we made it to the airport and will be on the plane shortly; which turned into a hi your car got broken into while sitting in our driveway and my wallet and the garage door opener were stolen, so I've had to cancel all of our credit cards - type conversation. A bad mood that got somehow worse....
Got through security ok -- well I did. They made Priti throw out all of her liquids/gels for some bogus reason, then she was so flustered she almost left her second bag at the security checkpoint -- she remembered it right as we were getting on the plane. We had just enough time to sit in a corner at the gate and send our last text message from Kenya before we got on the plane. Yikes. But, we made it on the plane, with eachother and all of our stuff, which is really the most important thing.
Pretty soon after taking off, I was out like a light for about 5 or 6 hours. Aside from being a completely full flight, the trip to Amsterdam was uneventful. After landing in Amsterdam, I had just enough time to brush my teeth, call Mike (who was still awake at whatever time it was in Indiana) and grab a quick breakfast with Priti before getting in line for security for my next flight. Of all the goodbyes I'd said, I think saying goodbye to Priti was maybe the hardest. Not that we wouldn't ever see eachother again, but saying goodbye to the person that I'd spent the last 60 days with meant that my time in Kenya was really over. When I got up to the checkpoint, one of the questions they asked me was "are you travelling alone?" I had to catch myself as I answered "N--Yes." When was the last time that I actually travelled anywhere alone? It was a strange feeling.
The flight to Boston was long and nondescript -- I slept some, watched a few movies, read, re-braided some of my hair -- you know, the usual. I was nervous about landing in Boston, as we would have to gather up all of our luggage (including our checked luggage), take it all through passport control and customs, then re-check it onto the flight to Indy. I had a little under 3 hours to do all of this, which I thought would be plenty of time, but sometimes you never know. As it was, the whole process couldn't have gone smoother. We were one of the first, if not the first, flight to land in Boston that morning, so passport control took all of 5 minutes by the time I waited for the 3 people in front of me. I was able to grab a cart right away, and I only had to wait about 10 minutes before both (yes, both!) of my bags came out of baggage claim. I wheeled my cart right through customs -- the guy didn't even ask me any questions, just looked at my passport and my declaration list and said "Have a nice day." Re-checking my bags was not even a problem -- the airport was basically deserted aside from our flight, and I just handed them to an NWA agent at the ticket counter. She didn't even weigh them (so I yet again got out of paying an overage for my too-heavy suitcase), just put them on the belt and said "Have a nice day." Going back through security was quick and easy too, and I got to the terminal area with 2 1/2 hours before my flight. I freshened up (one does not want to see one's husband for the first time in 2 months looking like one has been traveling for 30 hours, even if one has been), called Mike again, then I spotted the promised land -- STARBUCKS! I was even more excited when I realized that I was home in time for the best Starbucks Season -- fall. Java in hand, I sat in a rocking chair by a large window with the sun shining in and sat and thought... thought about anything and everything. I was so focused on not wanting to leave Kenya that I underestimated how good it would feel to be back in the US. But, sitting in the pristine modernity of the Boston airport, drinking my grande non-fat pumpkin spice latte, listening to American music on my Ipod, it was a good feeling. A feeling of being home.
As good as it did feel to be home again, I also thought a lot about Kenya, and I realized how much I already missed it. I wondered how I could ever reconcile the feeling of now having 2 homes, and how can I live in one and not miss the other, or at least remember it? I think that will be the hardest part of readjusting -- learning to live not just as an American, and not just as a Kenyan -- but to live as both.
Finally it was time to board the 4th and last plane. Of course it was tiny, and of course it was the longest 3 hours of the whole journey; they were all that stood between me and seeing Mike and the kids again. The very first thing I noticed when I sat down was that it was a plane of 40 white people. As a small flight going to the heart of the midwest, it's not all that surprising, but still... a bit of a shock compared to living as a definite minority for the last 2 months.
We finally got to Indy. As we were circling around waiting to land I got the greatest view of downtown, and I'll admit, it made me a little weepy. It was just SO good to see my home again, after being away for what felt like a very, very long time. And inside, I saw Mike, flowers in hand, and that was an indescribable moment as well.
All of my luggage in tow (yes!), Mike drove me to Chile's for my first American meal, which was quite satisfactory, I might add. Then it was on to home for my reunion with Ms. Thing and The Boys, which was a very loud, but fun, event. After PJ time and playing show Mike every single individual thing that I bought in Kenya (for which he was a fantastic sport), I passed out on the couch about 8:00. (I'm actually surprised I made it that long). Then I woke up at 3am bright and shiny and ready to start the day. Whoops.
Sunday was Church Day, which was great for several reasons. Obviously, it was great to see all the people I had been missing, and they all had hugs and nice things to say about my hair :). During the Sunday School hour, there was a presentation from the group of people who had gone to Eldoret for 2 weeks in April to see all of the various church-sponsored programs there. They talked about their trip, showed pictures, and answered questions. Sitting in the Fellowship Hall, half asleep and jet-lagged, looking at pictures of the hospital and the town where I had just been a little over a day ago -- it was SO SURREAL. It was just.... weird. I don't know how else to describe it.
Sunday passed too quickly, and soon it was Monday morning and time to go back to work. Getting ready to go went about as well as you might expect (read: absolute train wreck) with half-unpacked suitcases sitting all over the house. Between getting ready, packing my lunch, packing my gym bag, finding my white coat, medical equipment, books, car keys, letting out the dog... I played the "where's my...." game numerous times on Monday morning. The other thing I realized on Monday morning was that my school parking pass had expired in August. Whoops. Usually, if you renew it online and put the receipt in your window, they won't ticket you until you get your new pass in the mail. Well, I got it ordered, but no receipt was available. Instead I got an error message stating that my order hadn't gone through, but my credit card had been charged. Wait a minute... Running rather late at this point, I printed off the error message and hoped it would be good enough.
Surprising myself that I actually rememberd how to drive a car (on the right side of the road, no less) and how to get to work, I made it downtown without incident. Work was strange... I kinda felt like I was just floating through the day. I still don't think I'm 100% awake yet. I didn't really make my best showing, but I hope they'll understand. One of the fellows who worked in the clinic -- Laura -- went to Kenya a few years ago as a resident. It was nice to chat and trade stories about something that obviously meant a great deal to both of us. I think my biggest fear in assimilating back into normal life is that over time, Kenya will sort of fade into the background behind all of the lists, bills, appointments, tests, etc that pile up in everyday life. I think maybe by talking about it, to whoever will listen, it will always seem real to me. Like if I tell people about it, then it actually happened. And if I don't, then it seems more like a dream or some fantastic story that I just made up. Sounds strange, I'm sure.
After work, I got back out to my car to find -- you guessed it -- a parking ticket. *Sigh* Welcome home, Meagan. I drove right to the parking office, where I explained very politely to the nice man that I was out of the country for 2 months, tried to renew my parking pass online, but the computer wouldn't let me, and for crying out loud the office already /had/ my 150 dollars, and what I really needed was my parking pass and not a week's worth of 20 dollar parking tickets. The nice man was very nice about it -- he printed me a receipt, told me my pass would be mailed to me in 7 days or less, cancelled my ticket, and validated my pass to get out of the garage. Thank you, nice man.
Testing out my theory that the best way to resume my old life is to just jump right back into it, I went to the gym after work. I saw some more people that I knew, and got to talk about Kenya some more, which was great. (The hair was a great idea for this reason -- it's a natural conversation starter about the elective.) Then Monday I actually did some domestic-type activities AND I submitted my residency application! It was a lot more stressful than I thought it would be even though all I had left was to select the programs I wanted to apply to. But, as I was clicking the little boxes all I could think was that 'one of THESE hospitals will be my home for at least 3 years.' Frightening. And also expensive, by the way, but after much hemming and hawing and prodding by Mike, I did finally click the 'submit' button. I applied to 12 programs: IU, St Vincent (Indianapolis), Vanderbilt, UT Memphis, Louisville, Cinicinnati Children's, Cleveland Clinic, Children's Hospital of Philadelphia, Boston Children's, Salt Lake City, Duke, and UNC. Hopefully at least ONE of those programs will want me, eh? ;). And then this morning I was rather late to work, because I couldn't find my car keys. Turns out they were actually locked inside my car (the result of a very convoluted story involving Mike, #20 fuses, and his back window not rolling down). So, Mike had to drive all the way back from work to let me into my car, and I got to clinic about 30 minutes late. I really don't think I've made the best impression these first 2 days, but I suppose there's nowhere to go but up from here (I sincerely hope).
So, I'm back now. And it's still strange, thought its strangeness is wearing off faster than I thought it would. I'm in the process of sorting and posting my pictures, though with boards to study for and residency interviews to prepare for, I foresee it being a slower process than I would like. My old life was here waiting for me, and in some respects, I was waiting for it. Not getting stared at absolutely everywhere I go is certainly nice. As is my own house and my own bed, my own washer, dryer, and dishwasher; my own car, my own friends. I'm having dinner with Priti and Dayna tomorrow night, then I'll go out with Emily and Lindsey sometime this weekend. I think reconnecting with people has been the best way to feel completely happy about being back. That and the fact that I came back at the beginning of one of the most beautiful months in Indiana. It's cool in the mornings and the evenings, but just the right temperature to be outside during the day. The trees are starting to change color, and the media is saturated with the die-hard predictions and pompous know-it-all of the football crowd. And, Starbucks has pumpkin spice lattes.
I still think about Kenya at least a dozen times a day. The way the wind blows through the trees or a child speaks to me in clinic -- anything can remind me of Eldoret. I miss it. And I already can't wait to go back.
On Monday we had goodbye lunch with Laurien, then on Tuesday it was goodbye and evaluation lunch with Hao. On Wednesday I had goodbye lunch with Joy, then it was our last dinner out with IU house that night. On Thursday our medicine Registrar Dr. Akwanalo took our team out for lunch, then that night it was our last dinner at IU house. On Friday our pediatric registrar Julia invited us to her home for a delicious lunch, which we could only stay for an hour of before we had to catch our plane.
Full and sad, we said our goodbyes to friends at IU house, then jumped into one of 3 taxis that had been hired to transport us and our tons of stuff to the Eldoret airport. The 3 cars weren't /all/ for us -- we happened to be going back at the same time as 2 other Indy people: Ellen and Dave who were in Eldoret on behalf of the Umoja project. Priti and my luggage had been sitting in the office, and as we were standing outside for goodbyes, we hadn't actually witnessed the drivers loading it into the cars. I was just about to jump into our cab, when my paranoid personality took over, and I ran into the office just to make sure that everything had been loaded. I'm glad that I did, because my smaller duffel bag carry-on was still sitting in the office; which included, among many other important things, my passport and my plane ticket from Eldoret to Nairobi.
Our time of departure from IU house was projected to be 2:00 in order to make our 3:00 flight, which in KT was really about 2:20 or so. On the way to the airport, our driver stopped to get gas, which in Kenya (of course) is no short 5 minute stop. Especially when your driver gets out and talks to everyone he knows on the street. Now, I realized that flights in Kenya probably also operated on KT, but I was still a little nervous when we pulled out of the gas station with about 25 minutes to go before our flight took off. Luckily our driver thought he was Speed Racer, so we made it to the airport in about 20 minutes or so. We arrived just behind Ellen and Dave's car, so we all grabbed our own luggage and headed into the airport...except... it wasn't all there. Priti was missing her big suitcase and I was missing the IU trunk jammed full of Stuff that I bought. Short moment of panic later, the drivers assured us that it was already inside -- apparently the 3rd taxi had come earlier with just those 2 pieces of luggage, and the other 2 taxis were for people and the rest of our luggage. Kenyan efficiency at its finest, but we didn't really have time to question. (As it turns out, the car with our 2 errant bags had been sent to pick up the pilots of the flight we were about to get on...so at least we were really in small danger of missing the flight).
After passing through "security" in the Eldoret airport, we approached the one and only ticket counter. Sure enough, behind the counter and already on the luggage belt were our missing suitcases -- they apparently had already passed through security without any escort. Hmm... Speaking of our luggage, there was a 10 kg (22 lb) limit TOTAL per person for all luggage, which clearly we were way, WAY over. The total overage was 5,000 some shillings which is about 100 dollars. Yikes. I guess they count on how much muzungus like their stuff. And actually we had so much luggage that they wanted to send us on the 3pm flight to Nairobi with some of our luggage and then send the rest of our luggage on the 6pm flight. We told them in no uncertain terms that that was completely unacceptable and not an option. We were paying enough, we wanted to make darn sure that our luggage actually got to Nairobi, not to mention not leave our property sitting in Eldoret unattended for several hours. Oh yes and also the flights into Nairobi fly into dinky little Wilson airport, and international flights out are from the much larger Jomo Kenyatta airport that is clear across the city. We would have had to be at Wilson at 7:00 to pick up our bags. No, I don't think so. Our bags were on the flight with us. Checking in provided another challenge in that Dave didn't have his return ticket. It was a huge miscommuncation that involved at least one phone call and at least one turning inside out of Dave's bag. It was worked out about 3:10. We then turned around to walk to the "gate" (literally, directly behind us), and as soon as we started walking that way the entirety of the people waiting also got up and headed for the door. Clearly, we had been holding up the flight.
Like sardines into a can, 15 or so people crammed onto the smallest plane I've ever been on. Well, maybe a few of the planes I flew on on transplant surgery were a bit smaller, or at least the same size, but on those planes we had 3 to 5 people max. This plane was one of those twin prop deals, with no bathroom and no cargo area -- everyone's luggage was just piled up in the back of the plane.
The ride to Nairobi was... hot and nauseating but blessedly short, only about an hour. The birds-eye views of the beautiful countryside were almost worth the price of admission. Really the flight was extremely turbulant, and poor Priti ended up throwing up onto the aisle toward the end. Even after a short 60 mintues, I have never been so glad to be back on the ground.
We unloaded our luggage at Wilson. Priti has a family friend that lives in Nairobi, and he came to pick us up at the airport. His name is Narendu, and amazingly all of our luggage, plus the three of us, fit into his small Nissan. He drove us back through the city to his house, where we met his wife and his two kids -- a very nice family. They took us on a short drive through the area around their neighborhood; took us to a VERY nice mall with a HUGE market that I could have spent significant time in, and they even drove us past the US Embassy in Nairobi. It was... big... very American-looking. Surrounded by high walls, barbed wire, and lots of signs warning against picture taking or film making of any kind. Apparently absolutely nothing inside is foreign -- even the pens are imported from America. Hmmm... I couldn't help but wonder: At what point do you pass secure and get to paranoia? At what point do such extrememe measures actually compromise security by making everyone live in a constant state of fear? I'm not sure...
After a brief and delicious meal back at their house, it was time to jet off to Jomo Kenyatta. Now, Shawn at IU House had told us to get to the airport around 7:00 for our 10:00 flight. Narendu said if we left his house by 7:30 to get to the airport by 8:15 we would be fine. Not wanting to argue with our host and source of transportation, we went with his plan. Nairobi is a big city, but Kenya is still Kenya, so Narendu (being Indian) does not drive at night. They actually have a (Kenyan) driver named Peter, and he took us to the airport. Traffic is absolutely horrendous in Nairobi, and we spent more time sitting than actually driving. Again, I realized that even at the international airport things are probably still run on KT, but still... missing the one and only daily flight to Amsterdam was not really something I wanted to do; not really the best way to start my trip home. It was about 8:15 by the time we reached the outskirts of the airport.
We approached the police roadblock/security checkpoint, and we were waved over by two policemen. They came up to Peter's window and were speaking in rapid Swahili to him. Then, Peter stepped out of the car and disappeared into the shadows with one of the policemen. Yeah, heart started beating a little faster just then. The other cop stayed by the car, and was shining his flaslight in the windows at us, directly in our faces. He was going on and on about how the two suitcases stacked on the seat beside me (in the back seat) were dangerous and there's no way we could be allowed to go on like that. Yeah... I'm /sure/ that my safety was the first priority on his mind. But, I tried to be overly polite, just explaining yes, thank you for your concern, but we're on our way back to AMERICA (stress the AMERICA part) after 2 months in Kenya, and we had a lot of luggage, and the boot was full. Still, the flashlight-holding cop lectured on and Peter had not returned. Meanwhile, there are groups of random people (men) walking by the car, stopping to look in the windows, and I can see the lights from the airport up ahead of us. In everything I've been through in Kenya, that was the first experience I had where I was really, truly scared; or felt threatened by a person.
After what seemed like an eternity, Peter came back to the car. When we asked him if the cop wanted money, he said yes, but he was arguing with him and wouldn't give him any. I almost wanted to shout WHAT?!? at him. OF COURSE give him money! You don't argue with a man with a semi-automatic weapon strapped to his back, no matter the superiority of your position! Give him the money man! I just want to go HOME!!! The real issue was that Peter didn't have much on him, so the cop was telling him to ask us for money (being the wealthy Americans.) Which, by the way, I WOULD have given to him. But, Peter was explaining to the cop that we were the guests of his employer, so to ask us for money would have been unforgiveably rude. Moreover, our mood was not likely to be improved by the fact that the more they argued, the higher the chance we would miss our flight home. While it's admirable that Peter was trying to do the right thing... seriously man... just give him some money. The solution they worked out was that the cop kept Peter's license and he was free to drop us off at the airport; but, he had to stop there again on the way out and "argue" (pay??) with the cop some more. I sincerely hope it turned out ok for him.
How such blatant and disgusting corruption can exist in such a beautiful country is beyond me... it was really not what I wanted one of my last memories of Kenya to be, though I suppose it's a dose of reality.
At any rate, Peter got us to the terminal. Everything thereafter until we got on the plane was just stressful. Of course we felt like we were running rather late. We had to get carts, as we had 4 bags apiece, and then to even get into the airport you have to pass through security screening. The guy outside the door was giving us a hard time about not having our tickets -- which of course we didn't have yet because we hadn't even checked in yet...we finally got to pass through security -- unload the carts, take out liquids, take off jacket, take off shoes, show passport, go through screening, then scramble to collect all of your belongings in reverse, while trying to find replacement carts for the ones you left outside... it was just a huge hassle. Then we had to stand in another line to have our luggage weighed. The guy told me my suitcase was too heavy. Yes, I know, but I can pay extra, yes? Oh, you want to pay? Yes. Because your suitcase is too heavy. YES, THANK YOU. It was not a shining moment on my part.
My luggage appropriately labeled, we then get in another (much longer) line to check in. The woman checking passports wanted to know why we didn't have our tickets. Because we haven't checked in yet! We are standing IN LINE to CHECK IN!!! Meanwhile we're also trying to fill out our immigration/declaration papers while juggling 4 bags apiece on big carts, trying to write and maneuver through the long turnstyles at the same time. Luckily it was such a horrendously frustrating experience that we just laughed about it. I was so glad that Priti was there though, and we could help eachother out. If she hadn't been there I might have had a nervous breakdown. We finally get to the front of the line about 9:00. It turns out the guy checking me in is originally from Eldoret, so we had a nice conversation about that. He was so busy chatting that he didn't charge me for my extra heavy bag (clearly labeled) and I wasn't about to speak up about that one. Bags checked, tickets in hand, we wait in yet another line to clear customs/immigration, then upstairs to the terminal. Nairobi is another one of those airports that does security screening at the gate, so we immediately get into yet another line to go through the gate security checkpoint. Well, Priti got in line and juggled 4 bags while I went to the bathroom, then we switched. Also, we both had quite a bit of Kenyan money left that we didn't want to take with us, so Priti ran off down the terminal to find an exchange place while I scooted/juggled our 4 bags again. She got back just in time for us to start going through security. I called Mike for just a quick hi we made it to the airport and will be on the plane shortly; which turned into a hi your car got broken into while sitting in our driveway and my wallet and the garage door opener were stolen, so I've had to cancel all of our credit cards - type conversation. A bad mood that got somehow worse....
Got through security ok -- well I did. They made Priti throw out all of her liquids/gels for some bogus reason, then she was so flustered she almost left her second bag at the security checkpoint -- she remembered it right as we were getting on the plane. We had just enough time to sit in a corner at the gate and send our last text message from Kenya before we got on the plane. Yikes. But, we made it on the plane, with eachother and all of our stuff, which is really the most important thing.
Pretty soon after taking off, I was out like a light for about 5 or 6 hours. Aside from being a completely full flight, the trip to Amsterdam was uneventful. After landing in Amsterdam, I had just enough time to brush my teeth, call Mike (who was still awake at whatever time it was in Indiana) and grab a quick breakfast with Priti before getting in line for security for my next flight. Of all the goodbyes I'd said, I think saying goodbye to Priti was maybe the hardest. Not that we wouldn't ever see eachother again, but saying goodbye to the person that I'd spent the last 60 days with meant that my time in Kenya was really over. When I got up to the checkpoint, one of the questions they asked me was "are you travelling alone?" I had to catch myself as I answered "N--Yes." When was the last time that I actually travelled anywhere alone? It was a strange feeling.
The flight to Boston was long and nondescript -- I slept some, watched a few movies, read, re-braided some of my hair -- you know, the usual. I was nervous about landing in Boston, as we would have to gather up all of our luggage (including our checked luggage), take it all through passport control and customs, then re-check it onto the flight to Indy. I had a little under 3 hours to do all of this, which I thought would be plenty of time, but sometimes you never know. As it was, the whole process couldn't have gone smoother. We were one of the first, if not the first, flight to land in Boston that morning, so passport control took all of 5 minutes by the time I waited for the 3 people in front of me. I was able to grab a cart right away, and I only had to wait about 10 minutes before both (yes, both!) of my bags came out of baggage claim. I wheeled my cart right through customs -- the guy didn't even ask me any questions, just looked at my passport and my declaration list and said "Have a nice day." Re-checking my bags was not even a problem -- the airport was basically deserted aside from our flight, and I just handed them to an NWA agent at the ticket counter. She didn't even weigh them (so I yet again got out of paying an overage for my too-heavy suitcase), just put them on the belt and said "Have a nice day." Going back through security was quick and easy too, and I got to the terminal area with 2 1/2 hours before my flight. I freshened up (one does not want to see one's husband for the first time in 2 months looking like one has been traveling for 30 hours, even if one has been), called Mike again, then I spotted the promised land -- STARBUCKS! I was even more excited when I realized that I was home in time for the best Starbucks Season -- fall. Java in hand, I sat in a rocking chair by a large window with the sun shining in and sat and thought... thought about anything and everything. I was so focused on not wanting to leave Kenya that I underestimated how good it would feel to be back in the US. But, sitting in the pristine modernity of the Boston airport, drinking my grande non-fat pumpkin spice latte, listening to American music on my Ipod, it was a good feeling. A feeling of being home.
As good as it did feel to be home again, I also thought a lot about Kenya, and I realized how much I already missed it. I wondered how I could ever reconcile the feeling of now having 2 homes, and how can I live in one and not miss the other, or at least remember it? I think that will be the hardest part of readjusting -- learning to live not just as an American, and not just as a Kenyan -- but to live as both.
Finally it was time to board the 4th and last plane. Of course it was tiny, and of course it was the longest 3 hours of the whole journey; they were all that stood between me and seeing Mike and the kids again. The very first thing I noticed when I sat down was that it was a plane of 40 white people. As a small flight going to the heart of the midwest, it's not all that surprising, but still... a bit of a shock compared to living as a definite minority for the last 2 months.
We finally got to Indy. As we were circling around waiting to land I got the greatest view of downtown, and I'll admit, it made me a little weepy. It was just SO good to see my home again, after being away for what felt like a very, very long time. And inside, I saw Mike, flowers in hand, and that was an indescribable moment as well.
All of my luggage in tow (yes!), Mike drove me to Chile's for my first American meal, which was quite satisfactory, I might add. Then it was on to home for my reunion with Ms. Thing and The Boys, which was a very loud, but fun, event. After PJ time and playing show Mike every single individual thing that I bought in Kenya (for which he was a fantastic sport), I passed out on the couch about 8:00. (I'm actually surprised I made it that long). Then I woke up at 3am bright and shiny and ready to start the day. Whoops.
Sunday was Church Day, which was great for several reasons. Obviously, it was great to see all the people I had been missing, and they all had hugs and nice things to say about my hair :). During the Sunday School hour, there was a presentation from the group of people who had gone to Eldoret for 2 weeks in April to see all of the various church-sponsored programs there. They talked about their trip, showed pictures, and answered questions. Sitting in the Fellowship Hall, half asleep and jet-lagged, looking at pictures of the hospital and the town where I had just been a little over a day ago -- it was SO SURREAL. It was just.... weird. I don't know how else to describe it.
Sunday passed too quickly, and soon it was Monday morning and time to go back to work. Getting ready to go went about as well as you might expect (read: absolute train wreck) with half-unpacked suitcases sitting all over the house. Between getting ready, packing my lunch, packing my gym bag, finding my white coat, medical equipment, books, car keys, letting out the dog... I played the "where's my...." game numerous times on Monday morning. The other thing I realized on Monday morning was that my school parking pass had expired in August. Whoops. Usually, if you renew it online and put the receipt in your window, they won't ticket you until you get your new pass in the mail. Well, I got it ordered, but no receipt was available. Instead I got an error message stating that my order hadn't gone through, but my credit card had been charged. Wait a minute... Running rather late at this point, I printed off the error message and hoped it would be good enough.
Surprising myself that I actually rememberd how to drive a car (on the right side of the road, no less) and how to get to work, I made it downtown without incident. Work was strange... I kinda felt like I was just floating through the day. I still don't think I'm 100% awake yet. I didn't really make my best showing, but I hope they'll understand. One of the fellows who worked in the clinic -- Laura -- went to Kenya a few years ago as a resident. It was nice to chat and trade stories about something that obviously meant a great deal to both of us. I think my biggest fear in assimilating back into normal life is that over time, Kenya will sort of fade into the background behind all of the lists, bills, appointments, tests, etc that pile up in everyday life. I think maybe by talking about it, to whoever will listen, it will always seem real to me. Like if I tell people about it, then it actually happened. And if I don't, then it seems more like a dream or some fantastic story that I just made up. Sounds strange, I'm sure.
After work, I got back out to my car to find -- you guessed it -- a parking ticket. *Sigh* Welcome home, Meagan. I drove right to the parking office, where I explained very politely to the nice man that I was out of the country for 2 months, tried to renew my parking pass online, but the computer wouldn't let me, and for crying out loud the office already /had/ my 150 dollars, and what I really needed was my parking pass and not a week's worth of 20 dollar parking tickets. The nice man was very nice about it -- he printed me a receipt, told me my pass would be mailed to me in 7 days or less, cancelled my ticket, and validated my pass to get out of the garage. Thank you, nice man.
Testing out my theory that the best way to resume my old life is to just jump right back into it, I went to the gym after work. I saw some more people that I knew, and got to talk about Kenya some more, which was great. (The hair was a great idea for this reason -- it's a natural conversation starter about the elective.) Then Monday I actually did some domestic-type activities AND I submitted my residency application! It was a lot more stressful than I thought it would be even though all I had left was to select the programs I wanted to apply to. But, as I was clicking the little boxes all I could think was that 'one of THESE hospitals will be my home for at least 3 years.' Frightening. And also expensive, by the way, but after much hemming and hawing and prodding by Mike, I did finally click the 'submit' button. I applied to 12 programs: IU, St Vincent (Indianapolis), Vanderbilt, UT Memphis, Louisville, Cinicinnati Children's, Cleveland Clinic, Children's Hospital of Philadelphia, Boston Children's, Salt Lake City, Duke, and UNC. Hopefully at least ONE of those programs will want me, eh? ;). And then this morning I was rather late to work, because I couldn't find my car keys. Turns out they were actually locked inside my car (the result of a very convoluted story involving Mike, #20 fuses, and his back window not rolling down). So, Mike had to drive all the way back from work to let me into my car, and I got to clinic about 30 minutes late. I really don't think I've made the best impression these first 2 days, but I suppose there's nowhere to go but up from here (I sincerely hope).
So, I'm back now. And it's still strange, thought its strangeness is wearing off faster than I thought it would. I'm in the process of sorting and posting my pictures, though with boards to study for and residency interviews to prepare for, I foresee it being a slower process than I would like. My old life was here waiting for me, and in some respects, I was waiting for it. Not getting stared at absolutely everywhere I go is certainly nice. As is my own house and my own bed, my own washer, dryer, and dishwasher; my own car, my own friends. I'm having dinner with Priti and Dayna tomorrow night, then I'll go out with Emily and Lindsey sometime this weekend. I think reconnecting with people has been the best way to feel completely happy about being back. That and the fact that I came back at the beginning of one of the most beautiful months in Indiana. It's cool in the mornings and the evenings, but just the right temperature to be outside during the day. The trees are starting to change color, and the media is saturated with the die-hard predictions and pompous know-it-all of the football crowd. And, Starbucks has pumpkin spice lattes.
I still think about Kenya at least a dozen times a day. The way the wind blows through the trees or a child speaks to me in clinic -- anything can remind me of Eldoret. I miss it. And I already can't wait to go back.
Thursday, September 27, 2007
Kwa Heri from Eldoret
It’s Thursday night. This will be my last post from Eldoret.
I’ve said (most of) my goodbyes, I am (mostly) packed, and I feel (mostly) ready to go home.
There’s a certain feeling I have that I’ve left some things undone, some things unsaid. But, I suppose that’s probably normal.
I’ve said (most of) my goodbyes, I am (mostly) packed, and I feel (mostly) ready to go home.
There’s a certain feeling I have that I’ve left some things undone, some things unsaid. But, I suppose that’s probably normal.
It's so strange...how at the beginning two months seems like forever; an eternity to be away from your home, your family, and everything familiar. But sitting here tonight, looking behind me at the amazing and terrible things that have happened... it seems like just yesterday I was looking up at the stars in Eldoret and thinking how I felt so terribly far from home. But now this is home, and the heartbreak I had 8 weeks ago at leaving is revisiting me, in a different way.
We’re leaving from IU house at 2:00 tomorrow, to catch our 3:00 flight to Nairobi. Nairobi to Amsterdam at 10:15. Amsterdam to Boston at 8 ish. Boston to Indy at 1 ish. Then at 4pm I'll get to see Michael's smiling face after 2 long months.
The Blog will probably continue to be updated for awhile, as I post my hundreds of pictures and some stories about readjusting, as well as my final paper (or at least part of it) for the rotation. After that, who knows? Maybe it will sit in cyberspace for a few years, until my next trip to Africa.
Kwa heri, Afrika, na asante sana.
Marafiki
…”Friends” in Kiswahili. One of the 3 major commandments given to us before coming to Kenya was “dignify relationships.” I’d like to share a little about some of the wonderful friends and relationships I’ve encountered here. I’ve learned something from every single person mentioned, and clearly my life would have been different, less rich, if the following people had never been a part of it.
Priti. Probably best to start with my roommate, as she figures prominently into most of my stories about MTRH, Eldoret, and Kenya. I didn’t know Priti that well before coming to Africa, but I was very lucky that she was the other student drawn out of the hat at the same time as me. She’s a very fun and silly person, and often adds lightness to my often too-seriousness. She’s going into internal medicine – she hates developmental milestones and I hate COPD and CHF; so medically we make a well rounded pair. In addition, we share a lot of the same views on life, the world, and med school and we’ve had many late-night discussions about these various topics. We both come from rather different backgrounds (Priti being a first-generation Hindu American whose parents are from India) so we bring different perspectives to any issue. Most importantly, she loves to shop. Between being there for each other through various illnesses, mood swings, and work frustrations, I think I’ve made a friend for life.
Dayna. The 3rd of the 3 IUSOM seniors here during my time, I regrettably only got to spend one month in Kenya with Dayna. But, what a fun month it was. Dayna was a lifeline to Priti and I when we first got here – not knowing our way around town at all, anything about the hospital, how much things should cost, where the good shops, groceries, banks, etc were in Eldoret. It would have been infinitely harder to move into the hostel if Dayna had not already been here. I really admired Dayna’s strength: soon after she arrived in Eldoret she found out that her mother had a serious medical condition. Being close to her mom, it was hard for her to not rush home, but she stayed and made the most of her time here. Dayna spent her 2nd month doing OB/GYN – her future career – and we could always count on her for a wide variety of stories from the delivery rooms and ORs: funny, bizarre, sad, tragic. We miss Dayna a lot now, only a small part of that being because she had a vast library of “Scrubs” episodes on her laptop. There is no better way to unwind from a frustrating day than watching your chosen profession get parodied relentlessly.
Venus. Oh Venus. The only ‘blonde’ Chinese girl I’ve ever met. Venus is a girl with a heart of solid gold, with such a sweet and innocent disposition that you can’t help but like her immediately (Think Tiff, but a Chinese Canadian). Venus is a business major at U of Toronto, and she spent her 10 weeks here working with the Family Preservation Initiative (FPI) arm of AMPATH. FPI works on issues like food security, small loans to private businesses and families, etc. Venus’ real passion while she was here, though, was playing with the kids at Sally Test. She used her camp-counselor persona to come up with absolutely brilliant arts and crafts to do with the kids. They all loved her. When she left, they made her a poster with all of their handprints on it. Being such a sweet person, Venus had a hard time saying no, and consequently gave her phone number out to just about everyone in Eldoret. By the end of the time here, she didn’t even answer her own phone anymore, as more likely than not it was some random guy calling with another marriage proposal. She was often subject to incessant teasing by the group – especially Sonak (since she left, Sonak has been on an earnest hunt for the “new Venus”), but she always took it well, and she knew that we all loved her.
Laurein. A 6th year medical student from Holland, I met Laurein on my first night in Eldoret when she came to dinner with us. I have no idea how she got hooked up with our group, as she didn’t know any of us at the time. That first night, I just remember being jet-lagged and exhausted, and thinking “who is this crazy Dutch girl who’s yakking my ear off?” Verbosity aside, it didn’t take long for me to love Laurein. She has a refreshingly European way of saying exactly what she’s thinking, and she can tell some of the funniest stories I have ever heard. Very outgoing and gregarious, she throws herself into whatever she is doing with gusto, whether it’s her studies, her patient care, or her friendships. Because of her work ethic, she has become essentially tri-lingual; applying the same fortitude in her Kiswahili lessons. On her way to becoming an international health worker in Doctors Without Borders, Laurein is currently starting a month-long rotation in rural healthcare in Kapenguria, Kenya, the she finish up her 4 month stay in Africa with a month of OB/GYN in Cape Town, South Africa. The thought of four months in Africa does not phase her, despite not knowing anyone in any of her destinations. Her ability to make friends wherever she goes is one of her strongest assets, and I believe she is going to do a huge amount of good in her medical career.
Abby. A social work student from Indianapolis, Abby will be spending 13 weeks in Eldoret, working with Sarah Ellen to improve and really get off the ground the rape/sexual assault center at MTRH. Her passion for women’s advocacy is very inspiring, despite the horrible, HORRIBLE things she sees every single day. Instead of letting the countless tragedies make her emotionally paralyzed, she uses these patients to drive her work and remind her of her purpose. I admire that so much. She actually reminds me a lot of Laura, which is part of the reason I like her so much. (And, it turns out that she actually lived on the same street in Chicago as Laura and Daniel for basically the same stretch of years. Uncanny, no?) In addition, she’s a very good basketball player, and it’s always amusing to watch her school Sonak at hoops. Her OCD-esque quirks and dry sense of humor have made her a real joy to have on trips.
Natalie. A senior medical student from University of Utah, I wasn’t quite sure what to make of Natalie at first. After only a short time; however, she really grew on me. We really only spent about 3 weeks together in Kenya, but it was 3 intense weeks, as they included the rafting trip to Uganda and she was our next door neighbor in the hostel. Natalie has a work ethic that I really admire, going back to the wards almost every afternoon to do procedures, check up on labs, or admit patients. She basically talked me into interviewing at the peds program in Salt Lake, and it will be great to see her again when I go out there.
Angela. A 3rd year peds resident from IU. Angela was one of my residents when I did my 3rd year inpatient peds rotation, and she was a lot of fun. She was also one of the night-float residents when I did NICU at Methodist, so when I found out one month of our time in Kenya overlapped, I was very excited. As one of the other NICU residents said “Angela could have fun at the bottom of a well.” I think that’s true. We’ve enjoyed quite a few fun and crazy moments courtesy of Angela in the past 4 weeks, including rafting on the Nile together and staying in the same hotel at Masai Mara. Not only is she extremely fun, she’s also extremely smart, and she has taken on the care of the children in the wards as a personal mission. Many days she has gone over and above the call of duty or expectation to find an inhaler for a kid that really needed it, made sure a dehydrated baby got enough fluids, or found a way to get an antibiotic that was out of stock.
Sonak. One of the smartest, if not /the/ smartest guy I’ve ever met. Sonak is 26, has his PharmD, did 2 years of residency in infectious disease, got his MPH (masters of public health) and is now a fully salaried professor through Purdue pharmacy school. Oh yes, and he’s on a tenure track. And ALSO, he worked for a year in Kisumu before getting his job in Eldoret. He got here the day before Priti and I did. Sonak was hired on for at least 5 years (but probably more) to rev up the pharmacy student exchange program that had sort of gotten into a rut. And he has really thrown his full energy at the job. His head is practically bursting with new, innovative ideas for AMPATH funding and HIV/AIDS research. (The 2 latest ones being global Wii tournaments with a buy-in that goes to AMPATH, and his most recent brainchild: Drinking and Dancing for Drugs. This involves a bi-monthly dance party at his house, where he will sell at-cost liquor and beer for a huge markup, and give the money to the Pharmacy program for emergency and out of stock drugs. After it gets off the ground in Kenya, he wants to live-link all of the cities in the ASANTE consortium, as well as sell t-shirts and other merchandise). His energy really does seem endless, and he is a constant source of information about all things related to international health. And to top it all off, he is an honest to goodness nice guy. He’s so patient about driving the girls around town to go shopping or run various other errands, especially when it’s raining. Whenever any of us are sick or has a problem, he’s so good about following up with us to make sure we’re ok. (Even Dr. Mamlin said – “that Sonak, he’s so cute. What a nice guy.”) And, really, he’s a lot of fun. He has a pool table in his house which is almost always in use, and he just recently acquired a 46-inch flat screen TV for his wall – sports viewing and all 3 seasons of “The Office” being the primary objectives. He also regales us with his lofty plans of building a fully-stocked bar in his house, in addition to a water cooler so he can be fully “self-sufficient” and not have to rely on IU house for anything. His role models are Paul Farmer and Joe Mamlin, and despite his young age he’s well on his way to being on par with those men; Sonak is going to do great things – things on a global scale to improve the health of developing nations, I am absolutely sure of it. I consider the newly-arrived pharmacy students very lucky to have such an energetic and optimistic teacher, but I think I may be a little bit luckier to have him as my friend.
Hao & Robert. Hao is a pediatrician, Robert is a medicine/pediatrics doc. It was a strange and new experience, being friends with my attendings, though not at all an unpleasant one. Before coming to Kenya to be the IU medical team leaders for a year, Hao and Robert spent quite a few years living on a Navajo reservation in America, providing medical care for the tribe. Right after getting married, they took a year off of medical school to do malaria research in Peru. Romantic way to spend your first year of marriage, eh? At first glance, it seems as though they have lived very exotic lives, but when it comes down to it they are very nice, very normal people raising 3 kids, trying to have as normal a life as possible while doing what they really love. I think they are very inspiring, and I certainly look to them as role models for having a family and practicing medicine – practicing international medicine at that.
Benson. A former street kid taken under the Mamlins’ wing, Benson serves as an invaluable asset to the American students in Eldoret. He shows us around town, goes out with us, takes us to the safe places, and makes sure we all get home ok with reliable taxis. A very fun and very nice guy, he’s in the process of finishing up his primary schooling so he can go to pharmacy school in Nairobi. I am amazed that, after years of revolving-door friendships, he still takes the time to get to know us all personally.
Joy. A 4th year medical student on my pediatric team from day 1. I was very intimidated by Joy at first, but after I got to know her, she became by far the best Kenyan friend I’ve made here. She possessing a very quirky sense of humor and the most uncanny way of imitating our Consultants that have earned us reprimands on rounds more than once. Aptly named, I have never once seen her looking down about anything or say anything negative about anyone. She checked on me when I was sick, and after we weren’t on the same team anymore, would send me random text messages to see how I was doing. Through our many and various discussions, I was pleased and surprised to find out how much we had in common, despite growing up on opposite sides of the world and in very different circumstances. I appreciate the way that Joy just seems to get me; understanding exactly who I am the way a lifelong friend would. I’m sure it’s very ignorant of me, but I did not expect to make friends in Kenya the way that I did. Perhaps a part of me figured ‘aside from working in medicine, what else could we possibly have in common?’. Clearly Joy (and the rest of my Kenyan friends) proved that ignorant notion wrong. I would not have loved Kenya nearly as much as I did (do) if it hadn’t been for Joy’s friendship, and I will miss her very much. She aspires to complete her residency in the U.S., and I sincerely hope that she does.
Ben. A 6th year student on my pediatric team. Nicknamed “The Professor” because he always has an answer for everything (usually the right answer) and he always has a lot to say about everything as well. Ben is one of the few non-traditional students at MTRH – he’s 38 (though he doesn’t look a day over 25) and worked for several years as a clinical officer before starting med school. He’s married and has 2 kids, and since he lives at the hostel during the week, his idea of a good time on the weekend is going home to see his family. Ben is very down to earth, very knowledgeable, and very good with his patients. He wants to be a pediatrician, and I know he will be an excellent one.
Allan. Also a student from my pediatric team, a 4th year. Allan was the student who sort of guided me through the first few very confusing weeks on the wards. He helped me with admissions, found the patients/parents who spoke English, and kept me updated on the ever-changing class schedule so I could go to lectures. Along with Joy and Ben, Allan really helped me feel like a part of the team and less like an outsider.
Wycliffe. The faithful Kiswahili tutor. How many times over the years has he heard muzungus butchering his native language? Too many to count, I’m sure. Still, he soldiers on with us in his infinite patience. Always very encouraging, even with the smallest of accomplishments, never laughing at me but allowing me to laugh at myself. (And my mastery of the Kiswahilli language is indeed, quite laughable). One of many IU House Kenyan regulars who witnesses the revolving door of our community, he still manages to never forget a face or a name. If I’m ever back in Eldoret, I’d like Wycliffe and Kiswahili to give me another chance.
At lunch on Tuesday, Hao asked Priti and I what our favorite part of the experience had been. I didn’t even have to think before answering “the people.” The hospital has been educational, the trips have been amazing, but none of it would have meant half as much if it hadn’t been for the people there around me. I hope that in coming to that realization, I have fulfilled the purpose of the program. I hope that by making this experience about the people, it will mean much more, and stay with me much longer than just ‘these 2 months I spent in Kenya once.’
Priti. Probably best to start with my roommate, as she figures prominently into most of my stories about MTRH, Eldoret, and Kenya. I didn’t know Priti that well before coming to Africa, but I was very lucky that she was the other student drawn out of the hat at the same time as me. She’s a very fun and silly person, and often adds lightness to my often too-seriousness. She’s going into internal medicine – she hates developmental milestones and I hate COPD and CHF; so medically we make a well rounded pair. In addition, we share a lot of the same views on life, the world, and med school and we’ve had many late-night discussions about these various topics. We both come from rather different backgrounds (Priti being a first-generation Hindu American whose parents are from India) so we bring different perspectives to any issue. Most importantly, she loves to shop. Between being there for each other through various illnesses, mood swings, and work frustrations, I think I’ve made a friend for life.
Dayna. The 3rd of the 3 IUSOM seniors here during my time, I regrettably only got to spend one month in Kenya with Dayna. But, what a fun month it was. Dayna was a lifeline to Priti and I when we first got here – not knowing our way around town at all, anything about the hospital, how much things should cost, where the good shops, groceries, banks, etc were in Eldoret. It would have been infinitely harder to move into the hostel if Dayna had not already been here. I really admired Dayna’s strength: soon after she arrived in Eldoret she found out that her mother had a serious medical condition. Being close to her mom, it was hard for her to not rush home, but she stayed and made the most of her time here. Dayna spent her 2nd month doing OB/GYN – her future career – and we could always count on her for a wide variety of stories from the delivery rooms and ORs: funny, bizarre, sad, tragic. We miss Dayna a lot now, only a small part of that being because she had a vast library of “Scrubs” episodes on her laptop. There is no better way to unwind from a frustrating day than watching your chosen profession get parodied relentlessly.
Venus. Oh Venus. The only ‘blonde’ Chinese girl I’ve ever met. Venus is a girl with a heart of solid gold, with such a sweet and innocent disposition that you can’t help but like her immediately (Think Tiff, but a Chinese Canadian). Venus is a business major at U of Toronto, and she spent her 10 weeks here working with the Family Preservation Initiative (FPI) arm of AMPATH. FPI works on issues like food security, small loans to private businesses and families, etc. Venus’ real passion while she was here, though, was playing with the kids at Sally Test. She used her camp-counselor persona to come up with absolutely brilliant arts and crafts to do with the kids. They all loved her. When she left, they made her a poster with all of their handprints on it. Being such a sweet person, Venus had a hard time saying no, and consequently gave her phone number out to just about everyone in Eldoret. By the end of the time here, she didn’t even answer her own phone anymore, as more likely than not it was some random guy calling with another marriage proposal. She was often subject to incessant teasing by the group – especially Sonak (since she left, Sonak has been on an earnest hunt for the “new Venus”), but she always took it well, and she knew that we all loved her.
Laurein. A 6th year medical student from Holland, I met Laurein on my first night in Eldoret when she came to dinner with us. I have no idea how she got hooked up with our group, as she didn’t know any of us at the time. That first night, I just remember being jet-lagged and exhausted, and thinking “who is this crazy Dutch girl who’s yakking my ear off?” Verbosity aside, it didn’t take long for me to love Laurein. She has a refreshingly European way of saying exactly what she’s thinking, and she can tell some of the funniest stories I have ever heard. Very outgoing and gregarious, she throws herself into whatever she is doing with gusto, whether it’s her studies, her patient care, or her friendships. Because of her work ethic, she has become essentially tri-lingual; applying the same fortitude in her Kiswahili lessons. On her way to becoming an international health worker in Doctors Without Borders, Laurein is currently starting a month-long rotation in rural healthcare in Kapenguria, Kenya, the she finish up her 4 month stay in Africa with a month of OB/GYN in Cape Town, South Africa. The thought of four months in Africa does not phase her, despite not knowing anyone in any of her destinations. Her ability to make friends wherever she goes is one of her strongest assets, and I believe she is going to do a huge amount of good in her medical career.
Abby. A social work student from Indianapolis, Abby will be spending 13 weeks in Eldoret, working with Sarah Ellen to improve and really get off the ground the rape/sexual assault center at MTRH. Her passion for women’s advocacy is very inspiring, despite the horrible, HORRIBLE things she sees every single day. Instead of letting the countless tragedies make her emotionally paralyzed, she uses these patients to drive her work and remind her of her purpose. I admire that so much. She actually reminds me a lot of Laura, which is part of the reason I like her so much. (And, it turns out that she actually lived on the same street in Chicago as Laura and Daniel for basically the same stretch of years. Uncanny, no?) In addition, she’s a very good basketball player, and it’s always amusing to watch her school Sonak at hoops. Her OCD-esque quirks and dry sense of humor have made her a real joy to have on trips.
Natalie. A senior medical student from University of Utah, I wasn’t quite sure what to make of Natalie at first. After only a short time; however, she really grew on me. We really only spent about 3 weeks together in Kenya, but it was 3 intense weeks, as they included the rafting trip to Uganda and she was our next door neighbor in the hostel. Natalie has a work ethic that I really admire, going back to the wards almost every afternoon to do procedures, check up on labs, or admit patients. She basically talked me into interviewing at the peds program in Salt Lake, and it will be great to see her again when I go out there.
Angela. A 3rd year peds resident from IU. Angela was one of my residents when I did my 3rd year inpatient peds rotation, and she was a lot of fun. She was also one of the night-float residents when I did NICU at Methodist, so when I found out one month of our time in Kenya overlapped, I was very excited. As one of the other NICU residents said “Angela could have fun at the bottom of a well.” I think that’s true. We’ve enjoyed quite a few fun and crazy moments courtesy of Angela in the past 4 weeks, including rafting on the Nile together and staying in the same hotel at Masai Mara. Not only is she extremely fun, she’s also extremely smart, and she has taken on the care of the children in the wards as a personal mission. Many days she has gone over and above the call of duty or expectation to find an inhaler for a kid that really needed it, made sure a dehydrated baby got enough fluids, or found a way to get an antibiotic that was out of stock.
Sonak. One of the smartest, if not /the/ smartest guy I’ve ever met. Sonak is 26, has his PharmD, did 2 years of residency in infectious disease, got his MPH (masters of public health) and is now a fully salaried professor through Purdue pharmacy school. Oh yes, and he’s on a tenure track. And ALSO, he worked for a year in Kisumu before getting his job in Eldoret. He got here the day before Priti and I did. Sonak was hired on for at least 5 years (but probably more) to rev up the pharmacy student exchange program that had sort of gotten into a rut. And he has really thrown his full energy at the job. His head is practically bursting with new, innovative ideas for AMPATH funding and HIV/AIDS research. (The 2 latest ones being global Wii tournaments with a buy-in that goes to AMPATH, and his most recent brainchild: Drinking and Dancing for Drugs. This involves a bi-monthly dance party at his house, where he will sell at-cost liquor and beer for a huge markup, and give the money to the Pharmacy program for emergency and out of stock drugs. After it gets off the ground in Kenya, he wants to live-link all of the cities in the ASANTE consortium, as well as sell t-shirts and other merchandise). His energy really does seem endless, and he is a constant source of information about all things related to international health. And to top it all off, he is an honest to goodness nice guy. He’s so patient about driving the girls around town to go shopping or run various other errands, especially when it’s raining. Whenever any of us are sick or has a problem, he’s so good about following up with us to make sure we’re ok. (Even Dr. Mamlin said – “that Sonak, he’s so cute. What a nice guy.”) And, really, he’s a lot of fun. He has a pool table in his house which is almost always in use, and he just recently acquired a 46-inch flat screen TV for his wall – sports viewing and all 3 seasons of “The Office” being the primary objectives. He also regales us with his lofty plans of building a fully-stocked bar in his house, in addition to a water cooler so he can be fully “self-sufficient” and not have to rely on IU house for anything. His role models are Paul Farmer and Joe Mamlin, and despite his young age he’s well on his way to being on par with those men; Sonak is going to do great things – things on a global scale to improve the health of developing nations, I am absolutely sure of it. I consider the newly-arrived pharmacy students very lucky to have such an energetic and optimistic teacher, but I think I may be a little bit luckier to have him as my friend.
Hao & Robert. Hao is a pediatrician, Robert is a medicine/pediatrics doc. It was a strange and new experience, being friends with my attendings, though not at all an unpleasant one. Before coming to Kenya to be the IU medical team leaders for a year, Hao and Robert spent quite a few years living on a Navajo reservation in America, providing medical care for the tribe. Right after getting married, they took a year off of medical school to do malaria research in Peru. Romantic way to spend your first year of marriage, eh? At first glance, it seems as though they have lived very exotic lives, but when it comes down to it they are very nice, very normal people raising 3 kids, trying to have as normal a life as possible while doing what they really love. I think they are very inspiring, and I certainly look to them as role models for having a family and practicing medicine – practicing international medicine at that.
Benson. A former street kid taken under the Mamlins’ wing, Benson serves as an invaluable asset to the American students in Eldoret. He shows us around town, goes out with us, takes us to the safe places, and makes sure we all get home ok with reliable taxis. A very fun and very nice guy, he’s in the process of finishing up his primary schooling so he can go to pharmacy school in Nairobi. I am amazed that, after years of revolving-door friendships, he still takes the time to get to know us all personally.
Joy. A 4th year medical student on my pediatric team from day 1. I was very intimidated by Joy at first, but after I got to know her, she became by far the best Kenyan friend I’ve made here. She possessing a very quirky sense of humor and the most uncanny way of imitating our Consultants that have earned us reprimands on rounds more than once. Aptly named, I have never once seen her looking down about anything or say anything negative about anyone. She checked on me when I was sick, and after we weren’t on the same team anymore, would send me random text messages to see how I was doing. Through our many and various discussions, I was pleased and surprised to find out how much we had in common, despite growing up on opposite sides of the world and in very different circumstances. I appreciate the way that Joy just seems to get me; understanding exactly who I am the way a lifelong friend would. I’m sure it’s very ignorant of me, but I did not expect to make friends in Kenya the way that I did. Perhaps a part of me figured ‘aside from working in medicine, what else could we possibly have in common?’. Clearly Joy (and the rest of my Kenyan friends) proved that ignorant notion wrong. I would not have loved Kenya nearly as much as I did (do) if it hadn’t been for Joy’s friendship, and I will miss her very much. She aspires to complete her residency in the U.S., and I sincerely hope that she does.
Ben. A 6th year student on my pediatric team. Nicknamed “The Professor” because he always has an answer for everything (usually the right answer) and he always has a lot to say about everything as well. Ben is one of the few non-traditional students at MTRH – he’s 38 (though he doesn’t look a day over 25) and worked for several years as a clinical officer before starting med school. He’s married and has 2 kids, and since he lives at the hostel during the week, his idea of a good time on the weekend is going home to see his family. Ben is very down to earth, very knowledgeable, and very good with his patients. He wants to be a pediatrician, and I know he will be an excellent one.
Allan. Also a student from my pediatric team, a 4th year. Allan was the student who sort of guided me through the first few very confusing weeks on the wards. He helped me with admissions, found the patients/parents who spoke English, and kept me updated on the ever-changing class schedule so I could go to lectures. Along with Joy and Ben, Allan really helped me feel like a part of the team and less like an outsider.
Wycliffe. The faithful Kiswahili tutor. How many times over the years has he heard muzungus butchering his native language? Too many to count, I’m sure. Still, he soldiers on with us in his infinite patience. Always very encouraging, even with the smallest of accomplishments, never laughing at me but allowing me to laugh at myself. (And my mastery of the Kiswahilli language is indeed, quite laughable). One of many IU House Kenyan regulars who witnesses the revolving door of our community, he still manages to never forget a face or a name. If I’m ever back in Eldoret, I’d like Wycliffe and Kiswahili to give me another chance.
At lunch on Tuesday, Hao asked Priti and I what our favorite part of the experience had been. I didn’t even have to think before answering “the people.” The hospital has been educational, the trips have been amazing, but none of it would have meant half as much if it hadn’t been for the people there around me. I hope that in coming to that realization, I have fulfilled the purpose of the program. I hope that by making this experience about the people, it will mean much more, and stay with me much longer than just ‘these 2 months I spent in Kenya once.’
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Sleeping and Reading
That’s what I’ve been up to for the past 2 days. More sleeping than reading, really, as I’m still battling this cold/flu thing. Not the best way to spend my last week in Eldoret.
Today was not the best day. Even though I’m technically on vacation, I went to rounds in the newborn unit (basically the NICU) with Hao, as it’s something I’d wanted to see and hadn’t yet had the chance. First off, I got terribly lost, and every time I asked anyone where the newborn unit was, they looked at me as if I was speaking a foreign language (which I very well could have been). I finally met up with Hao, and she took me to the unit – which I never would have found by myself. There was a small ante-chamber type area, where we had to take off our shoes and put on these slipper-type sandal things, as well as leave our gear and coats, to minimize the germs entering the unit. As soon as we opened the door into the actual unit, a wave of heat nearly knocked me down. Since they don’t have individual incubators, the small 3 room unit is packed to the brim with at least 25 space heaters on full blast. Great for the babies. Bad for the adults. I was in there for all of 3 minutes before I was sweating profusely. Between being sick and it being about 100 degrees in the teeny tiny unit, not to mention there were about a dozen of us all crammed together, I was not much of a champ during rounds today. I had to leave every 10 minutes or so to go sit down in the antechamber area and drink some water, lest I end up losing consciousness. It’s the first time that heat alone has made me feel like I was going to pass out.
And then Laurein came by the unit to say goodbye. So that was hard. She was crying, I was crying – a big cry-fest. So I eventually wander back into rounds with my eyes wet and red, my nose dripping, completely sweaty, and Hao just looks at me and says “are you ok?” Uh…yeah. Great. Never better. I managed to rally somewhat and made it through the last 30 minutes of rounds without leaving (or fainting!). Overall the morning was not my most shining moment.
After rounds Priti and I had our de-briefing lunch with Hao, to talk about the program, what we liked, what we didn’t like. Hao had some really nice things to say; that she appreciated our attitudes during the whole experience and that we were able to be so flexible. Some people rolling through IU house these 2 months have had nothing but negative things to say about the wards and the experience, so I appreciated that she separated us from that group. We also ended up eating with some of the Kenyan Registrars, including my favorite peds regirstrar, Julia. Julia, and most of the other registrars, have been to the US (or will go at some point) for 6 months to train. Juila was at IU during the horrible snowstorm(s) this winter, and hearing her stories of this experience are always quite entertaining. She is an incredibly intelligent person, and in the course of these 2 months, I’ve learned many many things from her – both medical and about life in general. She’s also very passionate about her work and her country. One day a few weeks ago, I asked her if she ever considered moving to the US. She said yes, she did, but when she thought about it she decided the children of Kenya needed her much more than the children in the US. American kids, she said, will always have doctors to care for them, but not so for the children of Kenya. Her only qualm is that her son would have more opportunities in America, and that’s something she struggles with. Seems like working moms struggle with a lot of the same things, no matter where they live.
During the course of our lunch, a downpour started (by the way, the rainy season is not over yet) and continued for a good 90 minutes. So, we all sat around the table chatting about anything and everything. I really enjoyed listening to the Kenyans’ stories about growing up, going to school, and now working in Kenya. They reminisced about the ‘good old days’ when they shared one or two room houses with their large families, not owning anything, being too poor to own shoes, etc. While it may sound terrible, they universally said that they remember those days with fondness; the days when life was simple. To hear those attitudes was amazing, and it was also amazing to think about how this group of people had risen from such poverty to become physicians. It makes me look like I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth. I guess, compared to them, I was. Priti and I also discussed our time in Kenya with the Kenyans, and they were happy and somewhat surprised when we told them we didn’t want to leave, and we would really miss being here.
It continued to rain and rain and ran and rain and RAIN (rainy season is still ON, did I mention?), so Priti and I decided to brave the 10 minute walk back to the hostel with only 1 small umbrella between us. We may as well of not had had it, for all the good it did us. By the time we got back to our room, we were thoroughly soaked and cold, and generally cranky in disposition. Napping being the best thing to do on a cold rainy day, I decided that was the best thing to do. Being my 4th nap in 2 days, I felt somewhat guilty being so lazy, but I really am trying not to bring the African gleeb back to Indiana. Also, I’ve been trying to use this downtime to rest up for my new elective that starts on Monday, as well as have some time to reflect on everything that’s happened. I’m trying to anticipate the various difficulties I will have in becoming an American again, in order to ease the transition. Still, though, I know it’s going to be hard. I know that many well-meaning people will ask “How was Africa?” and how can even BEGIN to answer that question? A short ‘fine’ or ‘good’ or even ‘great’ will not even begin to justify the experience, while attempting a more thorough explanation will just frustrate me, because I never can really, fully, explain it all.
I think the hardest part will be helping people understand how Africa has changed /me/. That I am not the same person I was when I left 2 short months ago; that the experiences and the people here have changed so much about how I look at the world, medicine, and just human beings in general. I am a part of Kenya now, and it is a part of me, but how can I fully convey that to everyone who was not here with me? This is something that I’ve wanted to do for the last 4 years, and now that it’s almost over – is that just it? Is it just over? I hope not, and I don’t think so. We’ve joked about Kenya reunions after we all get back to Indy, and the closer I get to leaving, the more I see how much we may all need that. Just to be with people who saw what I saw, who understand the beauty and the horror and the sorrow and the joy of Kenya without having to explain. It’s not that I don’t want the people in my life to understand, it’s just that I don’t know how I could ever convey it all.
Tomorrow begins a new round of farewells – we’re having lunch with some of our Kenyan team-mates and friends, then it’s our last Wednesday night dinner out with IU house. I suppose it’s appropriate that it’s at the same restaurant I had my very first IU house dinner.
I know this seems all tears and melodrama, but it’s really not so terrible. Goodbyes are hard, but I will keep in touch with the friends I’ve made here (Kenyan, Dutch, American, et al), and I’m not saying goodbye to Kenya forever…more like… see you later, or until next time…
Today was not the best day. Even though I’m technically on vacation, I went to rounds in the newborn unit (basically the NICU) with Hao, as it’s something I’d wanted to see and hadn’t yet had the chance. First off, I got terribly lost, and every time I asked anyone where the newborn unit was, they looked at me as if I was speaking a foreign language (which I very well could have been). I finally met up with Hao, and she took me to the unit – which I never would have found by myself. There was a small ante-chamber type area, where we had to take off our shoes and put on these slipper-type sandal things, as well as leave our gear and coats, to minimize the germs entering the unit. As soon as we opened the door into the actual unit, a wave of heat nearly knocked me down. Since they don’t have individual incubators, the small 3 room unit is packed to the brim with at least 25 space heaters on full blast. Great for the babies. Bad for the adults. I was in there for all of 3 minutes before I was sweating profusely. Between being sick and it being about 100 degrees in the teeny tiny unit, not to mention there were about a dozen of us all crammed together, I was not much of a champ during rounds today. I had to leave every 10 minutes or so to go sit down in the antechamber area and drink some water, lest I end up losing consciousness. It’s the first time that heat alone has made me feel like I was going to pass out.
And then Laurein came by the unit to say goodbye. So that was hard. She was crying, I was crying – a big cry-fest. So I eventually wander back into rounds with my eyes wet and red, my nose dripping, completely sweaty, and Hao just looks at me and says “are you ok?” Uh…yeah. Great. Never better. I managed to rally somewhat and made it through the last 30 minutes of rounds without leaving (or fainting!). Overall the morning was not my most shining moment.
After rounds Priti and I had our de-briefing lunch with Hao, to talk about the program, what we liked, what we didn’t like. Hao had some really nice things to say; that she appreciated our attitudes during the whole experience and that we were able to be so flexible. Some people rolling through IU house these 2 months have had nothing but negative things to say about the wards and the experience, so I appreciated that she separated us from that group. We also ended up eating with some of the Kenyan Registrars, including my favorite peds regirstrar, Julia. Julia, and most of the other registrars, have been to the US (or will go at some point) for 6 months to train. Juila was at IU during the horrible snowstorm(s) this winter, and hearing her stories of this experience are always quite entertaining. She is an incredibly intelligent person, and in the course of these 2 months, I’ve learned many many things from her – both medical and about life in general. She’s also very passionate about her work and her country. One day a few weeks ago, I asked her if she ever considered moving to the US. She said yes, she did, but when she thought about it she decided the children of Kenya needed her much more than the children in the US. American kids, she said, will always have doctors to care for them, but not so for the children of Kenya. Her only qualm is that her son would have more opportunities in America, and that’s something she struggles with. Seems like working moms struggle with a lot of the same things, no matter where they live.
During the course of our lunch, a downpour started (by the way, the rainy season is not over yet) and continued for a good 90 minutes. So, we all sat around the table chatting about anything and everything. I really enjoyed listening to the Kenyans’ stories about growing up, going to school, and now working in Kenya. They reminisced about the ‘good old days’ when they shared one or two room houses with their large families, not owning anything, being too poor to own shoes, etc. While it may sound terrible, they universally said that they remember those days with fondness; the days when life was simple. To hear those attitudes was amazing, and it was also amazing to think about how this group of people had risen from such poverty to become physicians. It makes me look like I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth. I guess, compared to them, I was. Priti and I also discussed our time in Kenya with the Kenyans, and they were happy and somewhat surprised when we told them we didn’t want to leave, and we would really miss being here.
It continued to rain and rain and ran and rain and RAIN (rainy season is still ON, did I mention?), so Priti and I decided to brave the 10 minute walk back to the hostel with only 1 small umbrella between us. We may as well of not had had it, for all the good it did us. By the time we got back to our room, we were thoroughly soaked and cold, and generally cranky in disposition. Napping being the best thing to do on a cold rainy day, I decided that was the best thing to do. Being my 4th nap in 2 days, I felt somewhat guilty being so lazy, but I really am trying not to bring the African gleeb back to Indiana. Also, I’ve been trying to use this downtime to rest up for my new elective that starts on Monday, as well as have some time to reflect on everything that’s happened. I’m trying to anticipate the various difficulties I will have in becoming an American again, in order to ease the transition. Still, though, I know it’s going to be hard. I know that many well-meaning people will ask “How was Africa?” and how can even BEGIN to answer that question? A short ‘fine’ or ‘good’ or even ‘great’ will not even begin to justify the experience, while attempting a more thorough explanation will just frustrate me, because I never can really, fully, explain it all.
I think the hardest part will be helping people understand how Africa has changed /me/. That I am not the same person I was when I left 2 short months ago; that the experiences and the people here have changed so much about how I look at the world, medicine, and just human beings in general. I am a part of Kenya now, and it is a part of me, but how can I fully convey that to everyone who was not here with me? This is something that I’ve wanted to do for the last 4 years, and now that it’s almost over – is that just it? Is it just over? I hope not, and I don’t think so. We’ve joked about Kenya reunions after we all get back to Indy, and the closer I get to leaving, the more I see how much we may all need that. Just to be with people who saw what I saw, who understand the beauty and the horror and the sorrow and the joy of Kenya without having to explain. It’s not that I don’t want the people in my life to understand, it’s just that I don’t know how I could ever convey it all.
Tomorrow begins a new round of farewells – we’re having lunch with some of our Kenyan team-mates and friends, then it’s our last Wednesday night dinner out with IU house. I suppose it’s appropriate that it’s at the same restaurant I had my very first IU house dinner.
I know this seems all tears and melodrama, but it’s really not so terrible. Goodbyes are hard, but I will keep in touch with the friends I’ve made here (Kenyan, Dutch, American, et al), and I’m not saying goodbye to Kenya forever…more like… see you later, or until next time…
Sunday, September 23, 2007
Masai Mara
Acacia in the Sunset
Me and ElephantsWell, I suppose I can allow myself to leave Kenya now, as I saw both a lion and a giraffe thisweekend…in addition to SO many other animals. What a fantastic safari.
Nine girls – 5 pharmacy girls, me, Priti, Abby, and Laurein – left bright and early on Friday morning. It was a long drive to Masai Mara, about 7 hours in total. Luckily I was able to sleep for most of the drive, despite the constant bouncing of the van. When I woke up, we were in Maasai Land, and it was beautiful. It was completely different than any part of Africa I’ve yet seen. It looked exactly like the picture I (and many people, probably) have in my head of what Africa looks like. Bright sun, clear blue sky, and the brown-green of the savannah grassland stretching out to the distant mountains as far as the eye can see.
I should explain more about Masai Mara. The Masai Mara National Reserve is about 1500 square kilometers of grassland that is essentially the northern extension of the Serengeti Plains of Tanzania. It is located in the south of Kenya, on the Kenya-Tanzania border. Its name comes from the famous Maasai tribe (more about the Maasai later) that resides in the area and the Mara River that flows through southern Kenya. Basically, Masai Mara is to Kenya as the Serengeti is to Tanzania – it is the most famous safari destination in the country.
The drive through Maasi Land was beautiful. The Maasai are one of the few tribes in Kenya who live largely in traditional ways, shunning modernization and city life, so I really felt like I was in Africa. We saw numerous Maasai along the way, traditionally dressed in their bright red shukas and elaborate jewelry, both men and women. The Maasi are a nomadic, cattle herding tribe, and we saw many, many people out in the fields with large herd of cattle, in their traditional Maasai dress. It was just fantastic.
Just outside the entrance to the park, our driver Erick let us browse at a ‘cultural’ gift shop for a few minutes. This place was like the Eldoret Cultural Shop (our favorite store here) on steroids. It was a very large tin building packed (I mean packed) with anything and everything, including masks, soapstone carvings, spears, Maasai shukas, and of course: tourists. The prices for everything were inflated at least 200 percent, if not more. Having lived in Kenya for some time, we just laughed at the outrageous prices they were asking. But, as the majority of their customers fly into Nairobi then come straight south for Safari, they really have no idea how much things should cost. I think they were making pretty good money there. We ended up stopping there again today on our way home, and a few of us bought some things after we haggled them way down to a more reasonable price. I bought a really pretty batik canvas painting of the plains with giraffes and elephants around an acacia tree.
After the shop and after entering the gate to the actual reserve, the road quality dwindled from bad to worse to an adventure in its own right. Our hotel was a 45 minute drive from the gate – 45 minutes on bad roads. But, this was offset by the gobs and gobs of wildlife we saw on the way in, mostly zebras, various types of antelopes, and wildebeest. The other good thing about the long drive was that it meant our hotel was smack dab in the middle of the park.
We finally arrived at our hotel the Fig Tree, which was quite lovely. We had just enough time to check into our cabins – also very nice with real bathrooms and hot showers – and eat a quick lunch before going on our first game drive. Being as this was our first drive, everything was new and exciting, and being as we are 9 girls, pretty much everything we saw was squeal-worthy. After a lot of zebras, antelope, and wildebeest, and even a few warthogs, we came across some lions. I must say, it was pretty exciting. There were 6 or 7 other safari vans gathered around, taking pictures, but the lions – a male and a female – just lay calmly in the grass. Clearly they are very acclimated to humans. Now, this blog is G-rated, but let me just say that it is apparently the lions’ mating season, which we got to witness...several times. Erick told us that lions will mate 300 times a week. Hmm… no wonder we saw so many lions this weekend. After spending at least an hour looking at our first lions, we drove onward. We came across 3 elephants feeding, and they were beautiful. Thirty minutes and at least 2 dozen pictures later, we found some more lions – 2 young males and a female. These lions were just sleeping, so our pictures were not that exciting, though I got a really cute picture of one of the males rolled onto his back with his legs in the air – reminded me so much of Fred. The term “Big Cat” is not a misnomer; they purr, play, and generally act just like my two Big Cats at home.
By this time it was getting dark, so we headed back to the camp. Just outside the entrance, we came across a very young male lion hanging out in the bushes. He was not as used to us as the others, he acted very skittish, but I got a nice picture of him peeking out from behind a bush. After a delicious dinner and a hot shower, it was time to call it a night.Saturday was an early morning; we left at 6:15 for our first game drive. We left a little earlier than most of the other vehicles, which was nice, in that we got to sort of lead the pack and see animals before dozens of roaring engines scared them off. Almost as soon as we pulled out, we saw 2 lions – a male and a female again – prowling across the plain. The male was absolutely HUGE, weighing at least 150 pounds I’d guess, with a big full beautiful mane. They really didn’t give two hoots about us, and we were able to get so close it was unbelievable. Erick said it looked like they were hunting their breakfast – and indeed there was a very large herd of various grazers nearby (all of them looking alert and nervous). But, very soon there was a bevy of safari vehicles following the lions, so I think our chances of seeing a kill were minimal. We moved on, and soon came to a mamma giraffe and her baby. I was so excited! They were just beautiful. They moved so gracefully. Clearly they were very skittish, and we couldn’t get terribly close, but I got some fantastic pictures of them anyway. Pretty soon all of the late-start safari-ers roared up behind us, and the giraffes ran off.
The other highlight of the morning was finding a large pride of female lions lazing about on some rocks, and one of them had 2 little lion cubs! They were so cute. Much squealing was heard from our vehicle. Again, they reminded me so much of little kittens they way they played and jumped about. They didn’t give their mother a moment’s peace. In fact, she kept getting up and moving a little farther off, and they’d bound along right behind her and jump on her as soon as she plopped down – biting her ears, batting at her tail, etc. It was just too cute for words. After the lion pride we found another herd of elephants – 5 or so. Even though we were seasoned elephant viewers, having seen them for the 2nd time after all, they were still just stunning. We really saw so much wildlife in the morning, in addition to the mentioned we saw quite a few hyenas (most of them collared for some sort of research/conservation project), numerous zebras and antelopes, warthogs, jackals, meerkats (running along side the van – those things can move!), baboons, a tortoise, and dozens of beautiful birds. The morning drive provided some great pictures with the sun rising over the mountains, and many hot air balloons. Apparently sunrise hot air balloon safaris are quite popular, quite spectacular, and quite romantic. And also quite expensive. We all decided it’s definitely something we will do someday, when we find a rich gentleman to foot the bill. I’ve got the gentleman; now all he needs to do is win the lottery. Or publish his first novel.
After about 3 hours of driving, we headed back to camp for a fabulous breakfast, after which 5 of us decided to do the Maasai village walk. I’d heard mixed reviews of the village walk; some people had said it was a wonderful experience, while others said it was just one long sales pitch for various Maasai goods. I decided to go, not expecting a true cultural experience but hoping I would enjoy it anyway. The fee to enter the village was 1500 kSH, which bought us a personal Maasai guide, a tour of a Maasai hut, traditional dances by both men and women, and the right to take as many pictures as we wanted. Apparently it’s very culturally insensitive to photograph the Maasai (which is a shame because they are so beautiful). Unless you’ve paid for the privilege, I suppose.
At any rate, Jeremiah, the son of the village chief and our guide, started off by telling us a little bit about the Maasai people, that they are primarily nomadic cattle herders, etc. Their villages are really quite small – 10-12 small mud huts built in a circle with an open common area in the middle. The houses are surrounded by a fence of sorts made from sticks and bush. In the morning the cattle are driven out to graze, and at night they are driven back into the circle, and the fence completed. This is to protect the cattle from predators, though Jeremiah said it’s not uncommon for lions to jump over the fence and eat cattle. When this happens, the men of the village must find the lion and kill it, otherwise it will learn how easily it can get food at night. With cattle being the Maasai’s primary means of existence, that would be a disaster. It is illegal to kill lions in Kenya, but the Maasai are allowed because they are recognized as a self-governing tribe by the government – as long as they remain in the government-appointed lands. Jeremiah also told us that in order to be eligible for marriage, a young Maasai man must first single-handedly kill a male lion. While that is certainly a traditional Maasai practice, I had heard that it was largely obsolete now, so who knows. I guess it makes a nice story for the muzungus. Jeremiah is actually getting married next month, he said, to a Maasai woman he met in school. He said that since they are both educated, they are allowed to make the decision to marry themselves, and sort of ask their families’ permission, though it is not strictly needed.
We learned so many things about traditional Maasai culture, and it was very interesting. Traditionally, Maasai women shave their heads, while the men grow their hair long. However, if a woman is educated, she is allowed to grow her hair long. We saw one woman with long hair (or “big hair” as Jeremiah called it), she was the local school teacher. Also, at the age of 18 Maasai will typically start to put spacers in their earlobes to create the long dangling skin that is often decorated with colorful beads or earrings. But again, if the person (man or woman) has had an education, they can forego that practice. Jeremiah also told us about the Maasai shukas: bright colorful cloths worn by men, always in shades of red. The Maasai adopted the color red many years ago as a way of identifying each other in battles with other tribes. As a nomadic tribe, a village will pack up and leave every 5 years or so and start a new village elsewhere. The main impetus behind their continued nomadic lifestyle is the search for the best cattle grazing land.
When we entered the village the women performed traditional songs and dances for us for about a half an hour. I got some great pictures as well as a short video. After that Jeremiah took us into one of the huts, made completely of sticks and sealed over every inch with cow dung. We sat inside for awhile, saw where the Maasai slept, ate, and cooked in the home. It was pretty cool. We also saw the “calf pen” that every home has. Calves are kept in the pen, which is inside the actual house, at night, both to protect them from predators and to prevent them from nursing at night, so the cows can be milked in the morning.
After exiting the house, the Maasai men performed their traditional songs and dances. One of them involved a competition to see who could jump the highest. The winner gets the right to court (or maybe marry?) whatever woman they are fighting over. They really could jump quite high. Whichever young man has killed a lion gets to wear a tall hat made out of the lion’s mane. One man was wearing one, and the group danced around, taking turns putting the hat on each of us. I got a picture of myself in the lion mane hat, and I must say I look quite ridiculous.
Then the fun began as we were ushered into a smaller fenced-in circle adjoining the village, which was the “Maasai market.” We circled around tables and tables full of beaded jewelry, soapstone plates and carvings, gourds…pretty much everything. I ended up buying a Maasai shuka. I probably paid a little too much for it, but I think it was worth it. Overall the experience was rather touristy, but it was still enjoyable. It was at least nice to learn about the traditional Maasai culture, even if that’s not exactly how some of them live anymore. I mostly enjoyed seeing the traditional Maasai dress, on both the men and the women. It was so beautiful. The Maasai, especially the men, are extremely tall and thin. Their physique combined with the bright reds of their shukas and their piles of jewelry on every appendage was quite striking. They just look so…African.
Lonely Planet Kenya actually has some interesting information on the Maasai:
From “History:”
…Although control of the coast was largely sewn up, the interior, especially the Rift Valley and the Aberdare Highlands, was largely impregnable to outsiders due to the fearsome Maasai and other warlike tribes. A few explorers braved the Maasai heartland – including Gustav Fischer, a German whose party was virtually annihilated at Hell’s Gate in 1882 – but most attempts to enter the Rift Valley were doomed to failure.
The united front of the Maasai began to crack in the late 19th century, following a brutal civil war between the Ilmaasai and the Iloikop groups and the simultaneous arrival of rinderpest (a cattle disease), cholera, smallpox, and famine. Because of this, the British government was able to negotiate a treaty with Olonana (known today as Lenana), the laibon (chief or spiritual leader) of the Maasai, allowing them to march the Mombasa-Uganda railway line right through the heart of Maasai grazing lands. On one level, the Maasai were just accepting the inevitable – their end-of-the-world myth spoke of an ‘iron snake’ that would one day crawl across their land. Ironically, this once-crucial line now has just two passenger services, a far cry from its conception as the pride of East Africa.
With the completion of the railway, the headquarters of the colonial administration was moved from Mombasa to the cooler small settlement of Nairobi, and white settlers began to occupy the fertile highlands north of Nairobi. Their interests clashed with those of the Maasai, prompting the colonial authorities to pressure Olonana into restricting the Maasai to two reserves, one on either side of the new railway. However, the white settlers soon wanted the northern reserve as well and in 1910 and 1911, the Maasai who lived there were forced to treck south, despite Olonana’s objections.
From “Tribes of Kenya:”
For many, the Maasai are the definitive symbol of ‘tribal’ Kenya. With a reputation (often exaggerated) as fierce warriors, and a proud demeanor, the tribe has largely managed to stay outside the mainstream of development in Kenya and maintains large cattle herds along the Tanzanian border.
The Maasai first migrated to central Kenya from current-day Sudan, but in the late 19th century were decimated by famine and disease, and their cattle herds plagued by rinderpest. The British gazetted the Masai Mara National Reserve in the early 1960s, displacing the Maasai, and they slowly continued to annex more and more Maasai land. Re-settlement programs have met with limited success as the Massai scorn agriculture and land ownership.
Maasai women are famous for wearing vast plate-like bead necklaces, while men typically wear a red-checked shuka (Maasai blanket) and carry a distinctive ball-ended club. Blood and milk are the mainstay of the Maasai diet, supplemented by a drink called mursik, made from milk fermented with cow’s urine and ashes, which has been shown to lower cholesterol.
At around the age of 14, males become el-moran (warriors) and build a small livestock camp (manyatta) after their circumcision ceremony, where they will live alone for up to eight years, before returning to the village to marry. Morans traditionally dye their hair red with ochre and fat. Female genital mutilation is common among the Maasai, despite the best efforts of various human rights groups.
…Although control of the coast was largely sewn up, the interior, especially the Rift Valley and the Aberdare Highlands, was largely impregnable to outsiders due to the fearsome Maasai and other warlike tribes. A few explorers braved the Maasai heartland – including Gustav Fischer, a German whose party was virtually annihilated at Hell’s Gate in 1882 – but most attempts to enter the Rift Valley were doomed to failure.
The united front of the Maasai began to crack in the late 19th century, following a brutal civil war between the Ilmaasai and the Iloikop groups and the simultaneous arrival of rinderpest (a cattle disease), cholera, smallpox, and famine. Because of this, the British government was able to negotiate a treaty with Olonana (known today as Lenana), the laibon (chief or spiritual leader) of the Maasai, allowing them to march the Mombasa-Uganda railway line right through the heart of Maasai grazing lands. On one level, the Maasai were just accepting the inevitable – their end-of-the-world myth spoke of an ‘iron snake’ that would one day crawl across their land. Ironically, this once-crucial line now has just two passenger services, a far cry from its conception as the pride of East Africa.
With the completion of the railway, the headquarters of the colonial administration was moved from Mombasa to the cooler small settlement of Nairobi, and white settlers began to occupy the fertile highlands north of Nairobi. Their interests clashed with those of the Maasai, prompting the colonial authorities to pressure Olonana into restricting the Maasai to two reserves, one on either side of the new railway. However, the white settlers soon wanted the northern reserve as well and in 1910 and 1911, the Maasai who lived there were forced to treck south, despite Olonana’s objections.
From “Tribes of Kenya:”
For many, the Maasai are the definitive symbol of ‘tribal’ Kenya. With a reputation (often exaggerated) as fierce warriors, and a proud demeanor, the tribe has largely managed to stay outside the mainstream of development in Kenya and maintains large cattle herds along the Tanzanian border.
The Maasai first migrated to central Kenya from current-day Sudan, but in the late 19th century were decimated by famine and disease, and their cattle herds plagued by rinderpest. The British gazetted the Masai Mara National Reserve in the early 1960s, displacing the Maasai, and they slowly continued to annex more and more Maasai land. Re-settlement programs have met with limited success as the Massai scorn agriculture and land ownership.
Maasai women are famous for wearing vast plate-like bead necklaces, while men typically wear a red-checked shuka (Maasai blanket) and carry a distinctive ball-ended club. Blood and milk are the mainstay of the Maasai diet, supplemented by a drink called mursik, made from milk fermented with cow’s urine and ashes, which has been shown to lower cholesterol.
At around the age of 14, males become el-moran (warriors) and build a small livestock camp (manyatta) after their circumcision ceremony, where they will live alone for up to eight years, before returning to the village to marry. Morans traditionally dye their hair red with ochre and fat. Female genital mutilation is common among the Maasai, despite the best efforts of various human rights groups.
Tourism provides an income to some, either through being guides and camp guards (askaris), selling everyday items (gourds, necklaces, clubs, and spears), dancing or simply posing for photographs. However, the benefits are not widespread. In recent years, many Maasai have moved to the cities or coastal resorts, becoming doormen for restaurants and hotels.
“The Hard Sell:”
A common complaint among travelers, particularly in The Mara, is that the Maasai can be incredibly hard-nosed in business, and ‘cultural’ visits to villages often become high-pressured sales ventures the moment you arrive.
While it would be unfair to generalize, it’s certainly true that some Maasai, especially in high-density tourist areas, will treat you purely as a cash cow. Favorite techniques include dropping wares in your lap and refusing to take them back; coming into campsites to offer dances at non-negotiable rates; and charging for absolutely everything, from camping to crossing their land. While this behavior isn’t limited to Maasai, their aggressive and utterly unapologetic attitude upsets more travelers than day-to-day hassle elsewhere.
If you feel you’re being taken for a ride, Maasai or otherwise, stand up for yourself. Or, ask yourself this: If your people had been consistently dispossessed for over a century and were now subjected to constant streams of gawping foreigners with seemingly bottomless pockets, wouldn’t you do the same?
I think this is all very interesting. The weekend for me turned out to be as much about the animals and the safari as it was about the Maasai culture: their land, their traditions, and their history. I was surprised how much their story (and really the story of most of the tribes of Kenya) resembles that of the Native Americans back home. It seems we white people are capable of some pretty terrible things. Not that it helps to dwell on the past, but the question becomes, if we can’t undo what has already been done, how can you attempt to right the wrongs? I don’t know the answer, but surely there must be one. Surely there has to be a way for the Maasai to teach me about their culture, their real culture, in a respectful and authentic way. And surely there has to be a way for them to preserve what is native and important to them without selling their cultural identity to the highest bidder? I don’t know if going on the village walk was a help or a hurt. I learned about the traditions of a group of people wholly different than myself, and I definitely gained a new respect and knowledge of where they came from. But at the same time, was my presence there only perpetuating the problem of cultural tourism by confirming to them that their cultural identity could be sold for a price? I don’t know.
And then there’s the whole other issue I was re-confronted with this weekend (the first time being Baringo/Bagoria) of staying in absolute fantastic luxury while surrounded by some of the most destitute people in the world. I know I wasn’t the only one troubled by this, as we had several discussions about it in our group. Is it right? Is it wrong? Is it both? We never came to a consensus. Maybe we shouldn’t worry about it and just hope that the money we’re throwing around is doing some good for the people who need it the most. I just don’t know.
Maybe the answer to all of these troubling questions is not a matter of money or technology, or ‘westernizing’ people who wouldn’t necessarily benefit from it… maybe the answer just lies in an understanding. An understanding between people of different colors, races, cultures, and backgrounds. A learning that this is where you come from and this is where I come from; and neither one is better or worse, we’re just…different. An exchange of ideas. I highlight that because of this: from the very first meeting I went to about the IU-Kenya program, clear back in the first months of first year – we were told that was the emphasis of the program. The primary goal being an exchange: Of knowledge. Of ideas. Of experience. Of Understanding. I don’t think that I fully grasped that concept until now, 3 years after that first meeting, 7 weeks into my stay in Kenya. It’s still a powerful concept to try to wrap my mind around.
But I digress…(verbosely, it would seem)…
After the Maasai village walk, which I did enjoy very much, we drove back to the Fig Tree for lunch and chillin’ at the pool time. After a few hours of that, it was time for our afternoon game drive. We ventured into the less wildlife-populous places, having seen most of the big game, and now looking for the much more elusive cheetahs, leopards, and rhinos. We didn’t see any of the those, but a nice addition to our list of wildlife was some hippos. We actually saw them in 2 different places along the river. The first place was nice, nothing terrifically special, having seen hippos twice before. (I sound like such an animal snob). The second place we saw them, there were quite a few more. There was one especially large male who was being an absolute bully, and we got to see some pretty cool hippo fighting action. (As Abby dryly said: I would say those are some hungry, hungry hippos). On our evening drive we also saw some more elephants (see picture above). There were 7 in this herd (people here always tell us that elephants travel in 7s…though I’ve never heard that before), including 2 small little baby elephants who were just too cute. We parked the van and they plodded slowly by us, just yards in front of the vehicle. The neat thing about this herd was that they walked in a perfectly straight line across the plain, which I thought was just a circus trick (though they didn’t hang on trunks-to-tails, which probably is just a circus trick). I got some great pictures of the line of 7 elephants. We also saw several ostriches, as well as the elusive Eland – the largest antelope. The picture will make a nice compliment to the one I took of the dik-dik – the smallest antelope – at Lake Bagoria.
The ride back to the hotel showed us one of the most outstandingly beautiful sunsets I’ve seen in my life (of which many pictures were taken). Leisurely dinner and a hot shower were again the order of the night, as wake up call for this morning was even earlier.
We left at 5:50 this morning for our last game drive. I’m glad we left so early, as we enjoyed an equally fantastic sunrise over the plains, the backdrop for which was distant mountains and soaring hot air balloons. It felt pretty much like paradise. Abby said the animals were taking their day of rest this morning, which I had to agree with, as we didn’t see too many. We saw a few lions lying around, just a few antelope, but not too much else. The great, GREAT find of the morning by Erick was a herd (pack?) of giraffes feeding on some trees in the distance. There were about 6 or 7. We couldn’t see them that well, as they were pretty far off the safari path. Well, Erick just turned our safari van off the path and drove us across the grass right up to the grove of trees. The conservationist in me cringes, knowing that there are safari paths and protected grassland for a good reason; but the giraffe lover in me says it was one of the most amazing things I’ve ever seen and I got some fantastic pictures.
After the giraffes’ breakfast, we continued to look for rhinos, leopards, and cheetahs without success. The rhinos I didn’t really think we would see. There are only about 25 in the entire 1500 square kilometers of the park, and Erick said in all of last year doing game drives he only ever saw 2. Contrary to popular belief, it is rhinos, and not elephants, that are by far the most endangered species in Kenya. They were hunted to very near extinction in the 1960s and 70s. The cheetahs and leopards were not to be seen either, though I thought we might get lucky, but it was not meant to be. The other thing we had hoped to see was the tail end of the Great Migration – the migration of literally millions of wildebeest and zebras from the Serengeti to Masai Mara in search of more fertile grasslands. This typically happens in August every year, and then the animals head back to Tanzania around November. We did see the end result of the migration – thousands of wildebeest and zebras grazing in large herds all over the plains – though it was a little too late to get that infamous ‘fording the river’ picture that is on every nature show ever made. That, and the place where they cross the Mara River is about 70 kilometers away from where we were. I do think that would be a spectacular sight to see someday, but perhaps better appreciated from an aerial view.
We did end our last drive on a fun note, right at the end we saw a family of warthogs eating by the road, including 4 little baby warthogs, who were so cute in their own ugly little way. While mom and dad went about the important business of eating, the babies decided they were going to play head-butt and pick on the runt. It was quite adorable. Even that, at the end of the weekend, elicited girly squealing from the van.
Despite the relative lack of game sighting, I thought this morning’s drive might have been the best. One of the IU people here before us said that 2 days at Masai Mara was enough, because by the end you just get so sick of seeing the same animals over and over again, and it’s not nearly as exciting. While I agree that bouncing around in a safari van for hours at a time does get old, I don’t know how anyone could ever tire of looking at the African savannah – animals or no animals. It was quite brisk this morning, so most of the girls huddled in the van while we were driving around. It was cold, but I couldn’t help but stand and look out the top as we drove through the plains, seeing a full panoramic view of Masai Mara, seeing the sun rise, the mountains, the balloons, zebras grazing in the distance…seeing Africa just as I always dreamed it would look like. It was so beautiful.
I got some absolutely fantastic pictures this weekend, both of the landscape and the wildlife. As I was telling Mom when I talked to her, I think this is something that everyone should do if they can at some point in their lives. Seeing these animals in a zoo is absolutely nothing like seeing them in their natural habitat. In fact, I think after this weekend seeing these animals in a zoo might make me a little sad. Again, it’s really one of those things that cannot be captured on film – though I did try, I took over 500 pictures in the last 3 days alone! Amy (pharmacy student) said it best: “If one (picture) is good, then 10 must be better!”
After a quick breakfast and some last-minute camp photos, we packed up and headed back to Eldoret. Of course, the ride back was not nearly as exciting, as we had no safari to look forward to, plus we’d just spent the entire weekend in a car. The trip back took about 8 hours – 8 rather uncomfortable and hot hours, though there were some highlights. While driving through the Nandi hills we passed through a very long stretch of tea farms that were quite picturesque. The tea leaves are a very bright green, which makes a beautiful contrast between the more muted earth tones of the surrounding farms and hills. We had more fun in attempting to take pictures out the window of a bouncing van than actually getting the pictures.
About 3 hours from Eldoret, it started to rain. (I should say that last Thursday was an exciting day for us, as it was the 3rd straight day without any rain, at which point the rainy season was declared officially over. Huzzah! Just in time for me to leave! As it turns out, it did rain quite a bit in Eldoret today, so there goes that celebration.) After about 10 minutes of driving in the downpour…guess what song came on the radio… “Africa” by Toto. We totally cranked up the volume and enjoyed one of the greatest 80s songs ever written, especially singing “I bless the rains down in Africa” over the rain pounding down on the roof. Of all the fantastic memories of this trip to Africa, that one will stay right near the top.
Finally, though, we were back in Eldoret, just in time for dinner at IU house and some down time and TV at Sonak’s house. The real highlight after such an amazing weekend is that I don’t have to work tomorrow, as it is the start of my week off. The real lowlight is that I am definitely getting sick. Three of the girls started this weekend with a viral/flu type thing that’s been sweeping IU house (pretty much everyone has been sick) so I guess it was inevitable that I would get it after being in such close quarters with them for 3 days. Oh well, I suppose it’s better to be sick and be able to lie in my bed all day if I have to than to have to go to work. I do have a lot of things I want to get done this week though, and being sick is surely not on my list.
The other real bummer about tomorrow – much worse than being sick – is that Laurein leaves for her month of rural health care in Kapenguria tomorrow. As someone I met the first day I was here and have seen almost every day since for 2 months (not to mention all the trips we’ve done together), I consider her a very good friend and I will miss her a lot. Just the first in a long series of goodbyes I will have to make this week, most of which will be very hard. I am trying to offset the sorrow of goodbye with the joy of hello I will get to have when I see Mike, my four-legged kids, and the rest of my family and friends again.
Not that I want to end this post on a negative note. I had an absolutely fantastic weekend – surely the best trip I’ve taken in Kenya; maybe even the best trip I’ve ever taken period (If only Mike had been there). I did love Kakamega quite a bit, but I think that Masai Mara was better, because that belly-flipping feeling of ‘Oh my goodness, I’m actually in Africa’ didn’t leave for the whole weekend. Absolutely something that I want the people I love to see someday, and I hope that I’ll be able to be there when they do.
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
Last Week at Work
In honor of the 2 funny emails I got from my parents regarding Ms. Ozzie, here is a picture of the dog at the campsite in Uganda who looks like Ozzie's twin brother.
(Note: This post and the following are new. The previous one was typed this weekend, but just posted now due to internet issues.)
Hard to believe. And it's been a doozy.
Yesterday morning, the very first patient we rounded on was a new one, admitted overnight. A 29 year old woman named Lucy. Lucy was HIV-positive, but the primary reason she was admitted was severe heart failure. The mitral valve in her heart was severely, severely stenosed (tightened, or strictured), probably due to rheumatic heart disease, which affects many children in
Because of her severe valve stenosis, she had a pretty classic heart murmur, which the registrar wanted us to listen to. I was the last student to listen, and I heard the murmur, or at least I thought I did. As soon as I started listening, her heart rate started dropping and dropping and dropping, and within a few seconds it wasn't there anymore... I stood up and looked at Rhonda, my resident, and I said "Umm.... I think she's dead." The Kenyan registrar asked me what made me say that, and I said "She doesn't have a heartbeat anymore." He listened, and sure enough, no heartbeat, no pulse, no respirations, and we declared her dead. It would have been more sad if it hadn't been such a bizarre, surreal moment. First she was alive and there, and then she.... wasn't. And then the team just moved on to the next bed. It was so strange.
I think this second death was easier than the first, partly because it wasn't the first, and partly because there really was nothing else we could have done for her. She was suffering so much that death was a blessed relief for her. That's one thing that Kenyans really have on Americans -- the understanding that there truly are things that are worse than death.
My patient Rebecca is doing better, her swelling is much much improved, though she still has a lot of edema and can't walk due to newly-formed ulcers on her legs. She had an ekg that showed significant bradycardia (slow heart rate) and a strange heart block/arrhythmia. Her echo showed that her aortic root is severely dilated and is resulting in her aortic valve malfunctioning. She is such a sweet lady, I really like her a lot. She has assumed that since I know swahili greetings and greet her every morning that I am fluent in the language. After I greet her she starts speaking to me in rapid swahili, and all I can do is stand there and nod, say uh-huh, and then later ask the registrar or the intern what she said. I'm afraid that she's not going to do well though, her heart is very bad. If she were in the
I admitted a woman named Jennifer on last Thursday night. She's 27 and was referred from AMPATH clinic for severe persistent anemia. There was a note from the clinic that day in her chart, but when I asked her about being an AMPATH patient, she straight out told me that she was not a patient at AMPATH. So, I just let that one go. She's gotten several blood transfusions, though we're not sure what exactly is causing her anemia. It's possible that it's a side effect of her HIV meds, though she was taken off of the one that usually causes anemia a few months ago. It's also possible that it's due to the virus itself, though her other cell lines are normal, and you would expect to see all of them decreased. She also has a pleural effusion (fluid in her lung) that /I/ got to put a needle in and drain yesterday. It was cool! She also is a very sweet lady, though very reserved. She has several scars on her face that look like burns, but when asked about them she pretends she doesn't know what we're talking about.
Things are FINALLY worked out for Masai Mara this weekend. Nine of us are leaving at
Since we're leaving on Friday, that means that tomorrow is actually my last day of work on the wards, as we get our last week in Kenya off as vacation. It's so hard to believe that I'll be leaving in a little over a week. On one hand the 8 weeks have just flown by, but on the other hand it seems like an entire lifetime ago that I was in the
And here, I've gotten to see first-hand the amazing work of the Mamlins and the AMPATH program, and I've seen with my own eyes the countless lives that they have changed. But that's for another post.
I'm so excited to go home, but I'm also so very sad to leave. I have come to love
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)