I realize this post is insanely long. I feel the need to write in detail
so that those at home and around the US who have supported me emotionally and
financially, can fully understand my experiences here.
Last night was crazy.
We were supposed to go to Lake Victoria. We left Kitengela at 4:30pm, the beginning of peak traffic. What would have taken us 45 minutes to the railway station took 2 hrs and 10 minutes. We were literally parked for periods of 5- 10 mins. I was very hot in the matatu and I was sweating like a pig in heat. We jumped out of the matatu a half mile early, since we could walk faster. It was now 6:40pm and beginning to get dark. We began to walk. I focused on not loosing Lucy in the masses of people, not tripping and eating it, not stepping in disgusting pools of some kind of liquid, and most importantly, not getting hit by a car, bus or matatu (they do NOT stop or hesitate for people). It was insane, weaving in between people, cars, roads and sidewalks. People were constantly speaking to me (there is no peace for a mzungu in a field of Kenyans). They grabbed my arm, asked me questions, or stared at me. Lucy was chatting with a man who, evidently, became our guide to the bus depot. He even shooed men way from us. When we finally made it to the crowded and dirty outdoor bus depot at about five after seven, it was dark. We sat on a rickety bench and stared at our would be bus. It wasn't a sleeper bus, like I had been told, but a large bus we would be crowded into. We waited for Christabel (who works for Fadhili and is Lucy's best friend). I was, to say the least, overwhelmed. I was near tears and freaked out. I have done some crazy traveling and jostling through cites, but this was insane. I hated Nairobi and I had a bad feeling about the current situation. I told Shilu that the thought of just staying in Nairobi tonight and returning home tomorrow and run through my mind. She said the thought had occurred to her as well and would stay with me if I didn't want to go. The trip to Lake Victoria would cost me at least 5,000 ksh for the weekend anyways, a good amount. When Christabel arrived around 7:30pm, I told her Shilu and I were going to just get dinner in Nairobi, stay there the night, and go home the next day. We would be fine and wanted her, Lucy and Tomas to go on the trip. She canceled the trip. CRAP! I didn't want this! I tried to reason with her, it was silly to cancel the whole trip to see her Aunt. No, she wouldn't budge. No, no, no, no, I hate this feeling! I did this! I reconsidered just going, but I thought of trying to sleep on the bus, holding my pee for hours, transferring to another bus after a 7 hr ride, and then doing it all over again on Sunday was... a lot. No, I was not mentally prepared for this.
We left the bus depot, and I was thoroughly pissed off at myself. I fought tears again, this time because I had just ruined a trip for everyone. I had to push those thoughts out of my head, because once again I was fighting the masses in the streets of Nairobi, now in the dark. Christabel and Lucy charged ahead and I scrambled not to loose them. The people were a little more aggressive now. I nearly got hit by a matatu (Lucy stands on the other side and laughs at this) as I react and run quicker than I knew I could. I tripped on an uneven sidewalk. My backpack flys over my head and my water bottle sails 15 ft ahead of me. Luckily, I didn't hit the ground and Shilu helps me get my water bottle. I tried, while waiting for traffic numerous times, to convince Christabel they should still go on the trip, we could easily call a cab and be fine- their bus didn't leave until 9pm! No, she says. She made up her mind and isn't upset. After walking with Christabel for 25 mins, we parted ways- she to head home on the other side of Nairobi. Tomas said she new of a good restaurant nearby, so we walked that direction. A man approached me and asked me how I was. Rather than ignore him, like I do most people that talk to me on the street, I said, "I am fine, how are you?" As we continued to walk, he said he was fine and began asking me for money, he grabbed me by the arm and clung to me. I kept walking and wrenched my arm way. He began talking to Tomas. Another man off the street quickly caught up with us and told the guy to leave us alone. When he was gone, Shilu asked me if I was OK. I was. I just wanted to get the hell off the streets. We got to the crowded bar and restaurant and finally found a seat. Once seated in the smoky bar I relaxed. I ordered a small bottle of strawberry fruit wine. It's sweetness can only be compared to that of cough syrup, but it calmed my nerves. After some food and chatting with my housemates I was feeling a bit better, but still as if I had disappointed them. We called a taxi driver we know and he drove us home at 9:45. When I got home I crashed and slept THE WHOLE NIGHT THROUGH!
I finally got out of bed at 8:40 this morning to the sound of shouting coming from the TV. I walked into the living room to find a blaring televangelist yelling in Swahili. The kind that screams and shouts, people fall to the ground, he continues to yell at them while they babble and convulse, and suddenly he blesses them and they stand up crying and praising the Lord. Wow.
Today has been a low key day thus far. I just finished my second book since being in the country. The first book was, "A Widow for One Year" by John Irving, which was good (I like John Irving's writing), but not exactly a happy book. The second, given to me by my mom, was "The Soloist" by Steve Lopez. The book is a true heartwarming story of the struggle of a LA journalist befriending and trying to help a homeless musician with schizophrenia. My cold is getting slightly better and moving to my chest. I still have pain in my left jaw area that is a mystery to me. I will be seeing some nurse friends next week and will consult them. My current home craving is for a big fat messy burrito!
Love to all, Kris
