Mentor Mothers

I'm loving the time I've been spending at the Mathare North City Council HIV Clinic.  To say it's been an eye-opening experience is a complete understatement.  Mathare, one of Nairobi's slums, holds over half a million people living in some of the most abject poverty imaginable.  To put things in perspective, the average monthly rent that people living in Mathare pay is around 500ksh, or about 6 US dollars.

The City Council provides free HIV and tuberculosis care to the residents, and I'm lucky enough to have the chance to go to the clinic a couple days each week.  The building is dark and in a state of disrepair, but its services are so desperately needed that women and their children fill the waiting room each morning with dozens more overflowing outside into the hot Kenyan sun.  I was so surprised to find that there's a ray of hope inside the HIV clinic-- in what should be the most desperate, hopeless place in the building there is laughter, friendship, and sunshine.  This is due almost completely to the Mentor Mothers, the lifeblood of the slum's HIV program.  The Mentor Mothers are all HIV positive and spend their time counseling newly diagnosed HIV+ women, showing them living proof that surviving and thriving with the virus is possible.  They are especially focused on helping their patients have HIV negative babies, which is the part of the program I'm involved in.

Without the support of the Mentor Mothers, many of the HIV+ women would be completely and utterly alone-- the disclosure rates are heartbreakingly low at Mathare; almost none of the women have told their partner or any of their family or friends that they are positive.  This makes the Mentor Mothers program such a crucial support system-- the Mothers are often the only people that the patients feel they can talk to and trust about the roller coaster they've just been thrown on of a new HIV diagnosis.

I am so inspired by these women!

Making the Most of Myself

I'm trying to become more of myself.

When I see abject poverty at the slum clinics I work at, witness children with bellies outstretched from malnutrition, little ones wearing nothing but rags... I want to be more. I feel so hopelessly inadequate.  I'm simply not enough to fix these problems.  What's the point of being here if I can't make a difference?

Crying out to God at night after a long day in the Kibera slum, the answers start to come to me.  At the bare minimum, I am bearing witness.  By giving myself awareness of how the least of these live, they are making an indelible mark on my conscious that will follow me and shape my path for the rest of my life.  I am learning.  I am shifting within myself, becoming uncomfortable with the status quo.  If I simply left, didn't continue to see all that I can see, that would be denying these people the power to change my life.

Maybe I'm not much yet: just an undergraduate student with a big heart and a sense of purpose that lives mostly unfulfilled.  But I'm already becoming more, I can feel the marks being made on my soul.  Each day of my internship awakens me a bit more, every night under the Kenyan stars I go to sleep feeling just a little more alive.  I can imagine the things I'll be capable of once I have more education and experience, and it takes my breath away.

In the mean time, I can love.  This is no small feat, you see.  To give myself completely when the sights around me threaten to reduce me to tears, it's not the easiest job I've ever undertaken, but its certainly one of the most important.  My heart is changed by this outpouring just as much as the children I love on are changed by it, all of us becoming richer in the process.  It's teaching me what this thing called life is all about.

Swahili Wedding Weekend

I just got back from Msambweni, where I attended my 4th Swahili wedding.  They never fail to be fun-filled experiences!  The bride was from my aunt's family from Diani Beach, and the groom was the step-son of another aunt of mine from Bomani, so it was a wonderful family affair that involved many of the extended relatives I'd met during my previous visits to the coast.

On Saturday, Mama and I went to Diani to join the bride's family (and well over a hundred other relatives and friends) in preparing for the wedding.  There was food to be blessed, coconuts to be grated, and dancing to enjoy, all made sweeter by the company and community gathered together.

On Saturday evening, we returned to Bomani to join the groom's family in dancing that lasted well into the night.  I got to practice my Taarab dancing, the traditional Digo/Swahili style, and enjoyed the evening of friendship and laughter.  Shangazi, my auntie who is the groom's mom, even made sure I got my feet painted with henna so I would fit in with the other guests who were all done up beautifully for the celebration.

Sunday morning everyone from the groom's family gathered at Bomani and took a group of matatus to Diani Beach where the wedding ceremony itself was to take place.  We brought our gifts, which were a mix of practical things like pots and pans for the couple's new house and some more decorative things like traditional Swahili ornaments for the house.

The ceremony itself takes place in a small room, and most of the guests just celebrate from outside.  After the vows, the guests take turns entering the room to give their blessings to the bride and groom and take pictures.

We then returned to the groom's home in Bomani for even more celebrating, eating, and dancing.  Even the littlest children were invited to this part of the ceremony and Suleiman LOVED seeing me dressed up in my Swahili finest.  It was truly a wonderful weekend!

Mombasa Morning

I woke up with Mombasa today, and said my prayers in thanks in Kiswahili.  

I took the night bus from Nairobi to the Coast, something that would have been unfathomable to me only a year ago.  Turns out it wasn't so scary.  We reached the outskirts of the city at 5:30 am, just as the sun and city alike started to awake from their nightly slumber.

It was such a unique experience to see the Mombasa morning.  First, I watched as the earliest school children scampered along the side of the road in their uniforms, headed toward classes in the city center.    Gradually, as the sun found its place higher in the sky, the hustle and bustle that I associate with the city came into full bloom.  Matatus started their morning commutes, their honking alerting me that the day was now in full swing. You don't just honk at a car that's doing something wrong here, it's more of a greeting: Can I squeeze in here? beep beep // Of course! beep beep // Thanks, beep // Hey! You're my cousin's friend, aren't you? beeeeep // Sure am, beep beep // Have a good day, beep beep.

When we pulled into the bus station I hopped on a piki piki to go the final hour to Msambweni.  Even though the sites of the South Coast are familiar to me now, I am still rendered as breathless by the beauty as I was the first time I made my way to my internship over a year ago.  Palm trees reaching skyward as far as the eye can see, the occasional peak at the ocean waves hitting the shore, and smiling faces eager to greet the mzungu visitor-- the South Coast highway welcomes you like none other.

Upon reaching Msambweni I was thrilled to find that the local kindergarten teacher was sick, so Suleiman, Huzeid, Abdulley, and Lukman were all at home eagerly waiting for my arrival.  Such a treat!  Sule's 3rd birthday is this weekend (I can't believe that I've now known this little man for over half of his life! I met him when he was just a tiny little 1 year old, learning how to walk and terrified of my whiteness.) so I had a soccer ball for him. SUCH a big hit.  We played with it all morning, stopping frequently for mango and chapatti breaks.  

It was the best sort of day.  

Shel Silverstein's Wisdom

Nairobbery (Don't read this one to Grandma!)

Oh, that's funny, man sitting next to me on the matatu, I have the exact same Vera Bradley wallet! WAIT A MINUTE...

Good news is me and my wallet made it home safely, but not after quite the little adventure.

I try to avoid matatus whenever possible (the combination of carsickness and sketchy characters onboard makes them a less than desirable method of transportation for me) but yesterday I got caught in the rain and hopped in one to get home without a second thought.  I was in the front seat, squeezed next to my seatmate, as you tend to get packed in like sardines in matatus.  The tout, the guy who collects the money and generally harasses the passengers, was sitting behind me and started messing with my seatbelt.  I turned around to stop him and had a few short words with him, and in retrospect these few seconds when my attention was elsewhere is when it had to have happened, and the tout was totally in on it.  I was just boppin' along to the music, having a good time and thinking, "Oh, I should totally take matatus more often! This isn't so bad at all!" when I see an adorable little Vera Bradley strap sticking out from between the legs of the guy next to me! Oh, NO YOU DIDN'T.  I grabbed it back first, asked questions later.  I started yelling at him, because you're supposed to make a big deal of thievery here so that the public will help you.  The man's response? "Oh, that's yours?" Ugh.  I turned around and loudly told the tout what had happened, thinking he would rush to my defense, but he just sat there, cause, you know, he was totally in on it.  I made sure my phone and everything else were with me and said I wanted to get out, NOW.  Some ladies riding in the back of the matatu were really sweet and made sure I was okay before I got out.  Then I called my favorite new taxi driver, an adorable old man named James, to come pick me up on the side of the road, and thankfully all ended well for me and my wallet.

Unfortunately that's not all that happened yesterday.  Around 1AM I hear these crazy demolition sounds REALLY close to my bedroom window.  I looked outside, and about 15 feet away, just past the gate to our compound (which borders the Kibera slum), the rows of tin-built shops bordering us are being torn down.  Bizarre, I thought, as I tried to get back to sleep.  Then, a short while later, I hear all sorts of war whoops and crazy yelling.  I go to wake up my host sister to find out if we're in any danger, and she explained that the city council has been wanting to get rid of those shops forever and they apparently chose the middle of the night to do it because during the day the people wouldn't have allowed it.  Well, they totally got caught and a small riot was breaking out!  This morning when I looked outside my window I couldn't believe the destruction.  Hundreds of Nairobi's poorest people have lost their only livelihood now that their shops were destroyed, and my friend Joseph was explaining to me that almost all of them will be too poor to start over now that their things have been looted and wrecked.  It looks like a tornado blazed through my neighborhood, I'm kind of in shock right now.

The view from my window

Here's to hoping that today is less eventful than yesterday...

The Internship Begins

I had my first day of my internship yesterday!  I'll be spending the summer at KEMRI, the Kenya Medical Research Institute, and UNITID, the University of Nairobi Institute of Tropical & Infectious Diseases.  I was paired with my mentor, the wonderful Dr. B, an incredibly sweet woman who I can tell will teach me a lot.

My main focus will be assisting her with a research project involving breastfeeding in HIV+ women.  As I was being introduced to the project I couldn't believe my good fortune to be working on something that interests and matters to me so much.  I'll have the opportunity to work in some Nairobi City Clinics a couple of days each week and I'll spend the rest of my time in the UNITID building.  I share an office with some of the coolest Kenyan nurses who are such a big inspiration to me already.

So far I've been busy completing my human subjects training, which gives me clearance to ethically do research on people, attending a couple of lectures Dr. B. has given to U of Nairobi public health graduate students about writing research proposals, and getting to know my coworkers and how everything works.

I was expecting more bumps and hiccups to be honest, but things have gotten off to a really great start (knock on wood!).

eye love you

Anifa is sunshine for my soul.

A Week in Heaven

Hey all!  I'm back in Nairobi now after a week with my family on the coast in Msambweni.  I'm having a hard time putting the bliss I felt this past week into words; all my attempts feel cliched or inadequate, but I'm going to try!

The week started off with an adventure: my bus arrived in Mombasa at 9pm, when all the public transportation to the south coast had stopped running.  Thankfully my Baba is ever-resourceful and after meeting me at the bus station commandeered a passing matatu, convincing the driver to change directions completely and take us the hour drive to home.  When we arrived in Msambweni I instantly started to get choked up.  All of my cousins had stayed awake for my arrival and gave me the warmest welcome ever: I was home.

Some highlights of the week:

Meeting my new baby sister Sakina for the first time

Giving big love to my little guy, Suleiman

Eating the freshest mangoes, handpicked by my cousin Abee

Enjoying Auntie Tima's chapatis all day, everyday

It was truly wonderful to spend time with my Kenyan family.  It's so amazing to me, the love that can grow in a year.  Fifteen months ago we hadn't yet met, and now they've taken up permanent residence in my heart.  Leaving them to return to Nairobi was SO hard: Suleiman's goodbye shouts of "I LOVE YOUU DADA MOLLY!" (dada means sister in Swahili) melted me.  The good news is I'll be visiting them for a weekend in July, and spending another week there in August-- this is the first time we parted ways and known when our next meeting would be, making things infinitely easier.