Well, it's been far too long since my last update, so I apologize for that. We've spent the last two weeks on the coast, the first in a small village called Shirazi and the second in Mombasa. I loved both of these places, making me realize how much I maybe don't like Nairobi. (It's the New York of Kenya. People mean business, and you'd never greet a stranger you pass on the street.) But I had a great time on the coast and in Shirazi. It's a small isolated village that if you were to quickly see a picture of, you might mistake it for a resort in Fiji or something of the sort. Coconut trees dot the skyline, and palm frond thatched roofs are the norm. But life in Shirazi is no relaxing vacation. With no running water or electricity, life is tough. While learning Kiswahili, I was curious as to why the language had a verb meaning to be tired, as opposed to the English where you use the adjective tired along with the verb to be. Well, I quickly realized that to be tired definitely deserves it's own verb in Kiswahili because if working all day to prepare the next meal doesn't make you tired, doing so in a 90 degree room next to an open fire definitely will. There's something to be said for when stirring the pot of ugali (staple food of Kenya, made from maize flour, consistency of playdough) is way more of a workout than the game of volleyball you played earlier that day.
Overall, my experience in Shirazi was excellent. My host family was kind and welcoming, and the week offered a great opportunity to practice my language skills. However, I'll be honest. The week had a few disappointments...here they are...
1) I broke my nearly six year no vomiting streak. My last bout of upchucking came in 9th grade when we went to see Spamalot at the Colonial Theater. I spent the second act thinking about how I maybe didn't feel so great, then proceeded to run out of the theater after the show and puke behind a dumpster on Boston Common. This time was also fairly comical as my host sister is apparently a domino puker, so I found myself in good company as we both sat there looking at our lunch for the second time. After about 24 hours of some more puking and explosive diarrhea, the miracle drugs kicked in and I was thankfully able to recover quickly.
2) Let's be honest, my toenails are less than aesthetically pleasing. Just think of that Lamasil ad with the little dude who climbs under a toenail and makes himself at home. Need I say more...? Well, over the past six months my toes have been aided by a second miracle drug (not to be confused with the diarrhea drugs) and they were looking great. That was until my Shirazi sisters broke out the henna. I watched them make it themselves using the henna plant, lime juice, and tea. They then told me to sit down and they each took a foot. Part of me felt like a Shirazi princess getting a luxurious pedicure, but another part of me know understood what it was like for my teachers in the Lower School when they'd let me do their hair at recess. Except my sisters in Shirazi are 22. So, after about an hour of lying on the ground, I had my Shirazi name, Amina, written on one hand, a heart turned into a bell pepper on the other, and my fingernails and toenails covered in henna. Much of it has faded on my skin, but I'm sad to say that I'll likely have to wait another six months until I can enjoy some clean, natural toenails.
3) Speaking of toe health, my last disappointment of Shirazi was another living thing looking to make itself at home in my feet. This time, it was a jigger (two actually). These little creatures apparently burrow themselves into your skin, then start laying eggs, resulting in a little raised bump. And, this can occur whether or not you wear closed toed shoes, which I did for pretty much the entire week as suggested. I guess if you don't catch them early they can grow pretty big, lay more eggs, etc., but I'd rather not think about it. They're fairly common along the coast, which means that everyone is an expert at removal. I realized my jiggers once we were back in Mombasa while sitting in class one morning. And not only was I surrounded by jigger removal experts, but our class was on health in Kenya and was being taught by a doctor, so he was able to oversee the removal process. It's really no more difficult than taking out a splinter, except you have to be careful not to burst the sack of eggs resulting in jiggers drifting through your blood stream. Fortunately things came out fine, except I was really close to adding another episode to my puke history as I watched this little white ball emerge from my toe, thinking about the little bugs inside. And don't worry, the process was well documented with pictures! (If I happen to find myself especially patient, maybe I'll try to upload one).
One might actually consider these events highlights, myself included, so here are a few more to add from my past two weeks.
I finally caved for some American cuisine and ate a burger. It was incredible!
Took a ride on a piki piki (motorcycle) through Shirazi to a neighboring village. I'm always excited for an opportunity to channel my inner John Sharrigan.
Got three marriage proposals in one day in Mombasa – I'd call that a success!
Made it home from our boat trip after our engine malfunctioned and we were left to drift for a while. There were about 15 of us in this canoe shaped skiff which we had taken to a huge sandbar known as Paradise Lost. We joked and said that this should definitely be called Paradise Found because it was so gorgeous, but we soon realized the reason for the name as the sandbar was swallowed by the oncoming tide. So, after quickly grabbing all of our things and hopping back in the boat before the land completely disappeared, the engine soon malfunctioned. And obviously there were no life jackets on board, the boat did not appear especially stable, and it was particularly windy on this day and the surf was a bit rough. I could only imagine Pop rolling over at the bottom of the Thread of Life at our lack of proper safety. But luckily after a large “oh shit” moment and a few minutes of drifting, our captain was able to restart the engine and we were off. (That was definitely not the only “oh shit” moment for me as we fought the surf on our way home, but this was likely only due to my occasional boat anxiety, ie – sailing on Blue Skies).
Ate enough carbohydrates in Shirazi for a small army. This is no place for the Atkin's diet!
Lost a little faith in humanity waiting on the bus for three hours in order to take the ferry out of Mombasa. The city is technically an island (who knew!) and there's a bridge allowing access from the north, but because of the port present on the southern end, the country has not been able to construct a bridge which will still allow access to the port for the massive ships that come through. So instead, they have two ferries that continuously come back and forth, carrying cars, trucks, buses, and pedestrians to and from the mainland. Sounds like an acceptable alternative, but when you have to sit in line for three hours (no exaggeration) on a bus with no air conditioning, feeling hotter than you've ever felt in your entire life, this operation is simply laughable. If/when I one day make billions, I will personally fund the building of a bridge, no questions asked.
After a great two weeks, I'm now safely back to Nairobi, quickly adjusting back to the fast paced life of the city. I hope you all have enjoyed some snow in the states while I was struggling through the oppressive heat and humidity of the coast!
Ali
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