6.03.2010

ijamii yanje mu kenya (oluluiya)... my host family in kenya

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… adoption day.




The day that we went home with our host families was a very somber day for me. It felt like summer camp was over and reality was set in. Most homestay mama’s greeted their new Peace Corps mtoto’s with open arms and enormous bear hugs. I had to hold back the tears because it was so heartwarming to be accepted and welcomed. But, of course, my mama and baba didn’t hug me. They barely shook my hand and my mama hardly did that. The rest of the afternoon was filled with attempts of conversation in swah-english. They don’t speak very much English and my Kiswahili can only go so far...





The nyumba (house) itself is not like the other ones that most Peace Corps Trainees are staying at. We have partial dirt floors, no plumbing, no kitchen... well, correction, the kitchen is the hen house... and sometimes the livingroom. There is a small room with a stone floor and a drain where we bathe. The door is a piece of fabric and for each bath, the water is warmed up on the charcoal leftover from dinner. Squatting down to wash myself out of a basin has been awkward, but I think I have gotten the hang of it. The choo on the other hand, is a completely different battle and deserves it’s own paragraph.


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A choo is an outhouse, but without a bench and a toilet seat. It is, literally, just a hole in the ground that you squat over. Most of them smell really bad and are home to the indigenous creatures… bats, spiders, sometimes geckos, and always flies. The idea of a creature taking advantage of me while being in such a vulnerable state made me constipated for the first four days without a flushing toilet. I conquered this obstacle one day, after lunch in town, when my stomach was so upset that I thought I was going to explode. When you have to go that badly, nothing is going to stop you.





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Fast forward…




I have kaka watatu (three brothers): Kioko (who is 9), Mwongela (7), and Philip (4). Everyday when I get home from class Philip is playing in the yard (of dirt) with ten neighbor kids. Their toys are limited to what they can find, and usually consist of scraps that they can find… the latest one has been the dried cornstalks. (A couple days ago we raced each other down the street while pushing then in front of ourselves.) Though, I think Philip’s favorite is a contraption composed of two small pieces of old dried wood corn husks. When he runs it spins like a propeller... (here is one of his inovative toys)

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My mama’s name is Ann Nthenya and she married Kennedy Kivungi. They are both Kamba people and their “mother-tongue” language is kikamba. In Kenya, when people become parents, their names change to their first child’s name. So, my mama’s name is Mama Kioko and my baba’s name is Baba Kioko. The family dynamic isn’t much different from how I interpret the early and mid-1900’s to be. Mama Kioko spends most… (all)… of her time preparing the meals, washing the dishes, cleaning the home and shopping at the market. To pay the bills, both mama Kioko and baba Kioko have a couple small income providers… Baba Kioko builds houses when there are houses to build and farms their property, while mama Kioko braids hair. They also are the only home in this community with stema (electricity) so neighbors bring their mobile’s (cell phones) over to charge them for a minimal fee... (like 50 KES for a full charge)

What I have come to understand, and this is my own interpretation, is that people marry because it is time for them to marry and procreate... Because that is what they are supposed to do. Mamas cook and clean (and babas don’t) because that is what they are supposed to do. They don’t have nice things because the stores don’t sell them, and they only buy what they can afford. They have never heard of things like washing machines or dishwashers and they probably wouldn’t use them if they did have them. Comparatively, in America, we still pursue the “American Dream” which allows us to buy things that we cannot afford. Like homes, cars, THINGS, by going into debt. But, here people only buy things with money that they have, which is very little. (sidenote: if you try to use credit or debit cards here, they just stare at you.)

(this image made me realize: I'M LIVING IN AFRICA!)

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