Here's a picture from 2 Sundays ago- the Matlaks and 2 of their 4 boys on the left, Travis and Lydia on the right, Paul the mzee and 3 interns between the tall men, and Katherine and I in the front. Yes, Katherine is pulling on Danny's tie.
Monday, September 24, 2007
Saturday, September 22, 2007
Something To Look Forward To
Recently I've noticed that I'm settling in here. A student teacher arrived at the school this week, and in showing her around I discovered that I did know a little about this place... I think being around someone newer than you makes you feel less clueless. We went to the shopping center and I even sort of showed her where things were, though I'm still not entirely comfortable at Nakumatt: I was there kind of late last Thursday night, and they pulled down the giant metal blue garage doors (like when they close stores at malls in the States) while I was still in the checkout line. As I watched the blue metal descend and lock, I thought about how I had not yet put the number for the US Embassy in my phone, so how would they know to rescue me, trapped in this African Walmart? But despite the occasional Nakumatt-induced anxiety attack, things are looking up.
I can tell because there are things I'm looking forward to. At first, everything in a new place is about survival: How do I eat? Where do I sleep? Will it rain into my apartment? What do I do if I get sick? Are there snakes here? Eventually, resolving those issues becomes more subconscious and I can focus on broader but still pressing questions: How am I relating to people? How are people relating to me? Is there something I should be doing about either of those? What are we doing in class tomorrow? Will this amount of money last the whole month? But now, after 2 months in Kenya and 6 weeks of school, I can say that there's been enough stability that I can see beyond my immediate needs and I have found things to look forward to.
Some are small- I know when the new month comes, they will refill the sodas in the staff refrigerator. I have discovered that I really like Stoney, which is like ginger ale on steroids- it's REALLY strong, almost frighteningly so. Sometimes my tongue recoils at the last couple sips, but I like it! Because Stoney is so good, all of them are gone by the middle of the month. So I'm looking forward to the re-stock.
I'm also looking forward to spending more time with Paul Robinson, the director of the HNGR program (HNGR is what I did in Thailand). Paul and his wife Margie are my adopted parents at Wheaton, and Paul is in Africa for a few weeks on HGNR business, staying near campus. As it turns out, there are 4 current interns placed in Nairobi right now, so he brought them over to my apartment last weekend. Travis and Lydia, two more Wheaton friends who are currently missionaries in Kenya, came over too. They each were HNGR interns as well, so they know Paul. The 8 of us celebrated communion together in my living room last Sunday afternoon- it was a balm to my soul. Somehow, seeing the familiar faces of Travis, Lydia and Paul against the backdrop of my apartment here made it real that this is my life now. Something important connected when that happened; I think I decided to really be here. Anyhow, Paul is around for another weekend, so we'll go to church together tomorrow, and I hope to connect with the other interns before they leave in November as well.
Another looming highlight is the birth of Travis and Lydia's baby. They are missionaries in Mehru, their doctor is here in Nairobi, and they're past due, so they're hanging out in the city until the baby comes. Every time I get a text message from them, I check to make sure I have matatu fare to the hospital...
Now, nothing against Paul or the baby, but the thing I am looking forward to the very most has not yet been mentioned: CFS. That stands for Cultural Field Studies, and basically it's a super-cool field trip. Each grade at Rosslyn from 6th -12th goes on a multi-night trip into Kenya to learn about her land and culture and to combat the isolation so often present at international schools. The price is part of tuition, and the teachers go as chaperones. So a week from Wednesday, I leave with the 7th graders for Lake Naivasha. We'll stay at a camp for 2 nights, go hiking, sing silly songs around the campfire, and eat junk food in the cabins. I love taking middle schoolers to camp, so of course that will be great, but it gets even better. You see, there will be hippos. Lake Naivasha has hippo herds. (I love that phrase!) People have tried to explain to me that the hippopotamus is one of the most dangerous animals on planet earth, far more fierce and scary than, say, a grizzly bear, and that my enthusiasm is misplaced. But I am enthusiastic nonetheless- we'll get to take a boat ride to see the hippo herds, and apparently, there is a curfew at the camp because the hippos come up on land at night, and you don't want to tangle with a hippo in the dark! I have a picture in my mind of Rosslyn 7th graders around a campfire, happily singing "Mm-att Went the Little Green Frog," when suddenly the menacing figure of a hippo enters the background. The students run, screaming... I'm looking forward to CFS, and I'll try to post some pictures. ;)
I can tell because there are things I'm looking forward to. At first, everything in a new place is about survival: How do I eat? Where do I sleep? Will it rain into my apartment? What do I do if I get sick? Are there snakes here? Eventually, resolving those issues becomes more subconscious and I can focus on broader but still pressing questions: How am I relating to people? How are people relating to me? Is there something I should be doing about either of those? What are we doing in class tomorrow? Will this amount of money last the whole month? But now, after 2 months in Kenya and 6 weeks of school, I can say that there's been enough stability that I can see beyond my immediate needs and I have found things to look forward to.
Some are small- I know when the new month comes, they will refill the sodas in the staff refrigerator. I have discovered that I really like Stoney, which is like ginger ale on steroids- it's REALLY strong, almost frighteningly so. Sometimes my tongue recoils at the last couple sips, but I like it! Because Stoney is so good, all of them are gone by the middle of the month. So I'm looking forward to the re-stock.
I'm also looking forward to spending more time with Paul Robinson, the director of the HNGR program (HNGR is what I did in Thailand). Paul and his wife Margie are my adopted parents at Wheaton, and Paul is in Africa for a few weeks on HGNR business, staying near campus. As it turns out, there are 4 current interns placed in Nairobi right now, so he brought them over to my apartment last weekend. Travis and Lydia, two more Wheaton friends who are currently missionaries in Kenya, came over too. They each were HNGR interns as well, so they know Paul. The 8 of us celebrated communion together in my living room last Sunday afternoon- it was a balm to my soul. Somehow, seeing the familiar faces of Travis, Lydia and Paul against the backdrop of my apartment here made it real that this is my life now. Something important connected when that happened; I think I decided to really be here. Anyhow, Paul is around for another weekend, so we'll go to church together tomorrow, and I hope to connect with the other interns before they leave in November as well.
Another looming highlight is the birth of Travis and Lydia's baby. They are missionaries in Mehru, their doctor is here in Nairobi, and they're past due, so they're hanging out in the city until the baby comes. Every time I get a text message from them, I check to make sure I have matatu fare to the hospital...
Now, nothing against Paul or the baby, but the thing I am looking forward to the very most has not yet been mentioned: CFS. That stands for Cultural Field Studies, and basically it's a super-cool field trip. Each grade at Rosslyn from 6th -12th goes on a multi-night trip into Kenya to learn about her land and culture and to combat the isolation so often present at international schools. The price is part of tuition, and the teachers go as chaperones. So a week from Wednesday, I leave with the 7th graders for Lake Naivasha. We'll stay at a camp for 2 nights, go hiking, sing silly songs around the campfire, and eat junk food in the cabins. I love taking middle schoolers to camp, so of course that will be great, but it gets even better. You see, there will be hippos. Lake Naivasha has hippo herds. (I love that phrase!) People have tried to explain to me that the hippopotamus is one of the most dangerous animals on planet earth, far more fierce and scary than, say, a grizzly bear, and that my enthusiasm is misplaced. But I am enthusiastic nonetheless- we'll get to take a boat ride to see the hippo herds, and apparently, there is a curfew at the camp because the hippos come up on land at night, and you don't want to tangle with a hippo in the dark! I have a picture in my mind of Rosslyn 7th graders around a campfire, happily singing "Mm-att Went the Little Green Frog," when suddenly the menacing figure of a hippo enters the background. The students run, screaming... I'm looking forward to CFS, and I'll try to post some pictures. ;)
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
Another Installment of the Shopping Saga
Today I again attempted driving myself to the store. Yes, you may applaud if you desire; it was a monumental decision. If you don't know why, read "Success?" a couple posts down and you'll be all caught up...
Yep, I once more decided to borrow a school car and travel to the shopping center all by myself! The whole experience was approximately 683 times better than a week ago- I got the Suzuki again and started it on the first try. I'm actually starting to like the little truck! It only took me 10 minutes to get off campus, as opposed to an hour last time, and the guard didn't even have to jump out of my way as I passed the gate. I was able to turn on the lights as soon as the thunderstorm started, and I even knew where the windshield wipers were. (Mostly because I tend to accidentally turn them on when I'm trying to use the turn signal, but still, I knew where they were). Arrival was simple, and even parking went well. This time I didn't forget my list; I forgot my money. But I overcame the obstacle by successfully using the ATM machine- maybe I'm gaining a little resiliency and will be able to live here without trauma eventually. I navigated the extremely confusing set of staircases and ramps down to the food court, ordered my latte, and sat down to grade papers at a table just out of reach of the pouring rain.
Now, when I'm grading I tend to deal with frustration by changing location- if I'm becoming depressed by how kids are doing on a quiz, I'll move to a different setting and restart the grading. Actually, I decided to go grade at Village (the shopping center) because of a different kind of frustration: the power at the school was spiking and diving all day long. In theory we have a generator on campus which stabilizes our power; in reality there were at least 20 outages today. Sometimes the lights would start buzzing again quickly (ah, the wonders of florescence), sometimes they'd get enough juice to light up just as the power would quit again, and sometimes they'd just buzz and occasionally flicker. Holy distraction, Batman! It's especially challenging if you're playing a classwide game that requires the overhead projector, or putting grades into the ancient Dell that sometimes saves automatically and sometimes doesn't... All that to say, I was ready to grade somewhere else by 5:00.
After the latte was gone but there were still plenty of papers to grade, I got hungry for dinner and moved to a restaurant elsewhere in the mall. This was by far the best part of my evening. The restaurant turned out to be a wannabe sports bar; they had a couple of screens showing soccer games and they were pumping Ricky Martin loudly in the background. The waiters outnumbered the customers, no one was dancing nor drinking, and I was grading Algebra tests. I tell you, that's living La Vida Loca. ;) So I was giggling internally about the decade-old latin dance mix and the atmosphere that didn't quite match it when the music suddenly stopped. I was momentarily disappointed until they changed CDs and broke through to a whole new level of musical wonder: Kenny G. My giggling was not entirely internal at this point. But then it got even better! What could be better than pirated Kenny G in an African sports bar, you ask? Well, pirated Kenny G in an African sports bar playing Celine Dion, of course! I believe I laughed aloud when the bus boy started to earnestly whistle along to the soprano sax version of "My Heart Will Go On." I tried to pretend I was reading some really funny math tests, but I'm not sure I pulled it off.
Eventually the grading was done and it was time to brace myself for grocery shopping. I thought I'd imitate the culture around me and use a little tiny shopping cart- when I first moved here, I thought they were for children to push around like they are in the States. But according to my careful observations, they are to be used by anyone who doesn't have all that much to buy. That was me, so I gave it a shot. True, they're lighter, but I found I had trouble keeping it in front of me, and I had to hunch over to reach the bar to steer it. Today I got a B+ in shopping- I mostly found the things I was looking for, and when I came across something that wasn't on my list but hadn't been in stock for the last month, I bought 3 of them. I'm learning. I'm still not a master of the store's organizational layout; I searched high and low for a pencil sharpener in the school supplies section to no avail. Turns out it's in the hardware section (OK, I can see it being a tool), and they're kept locked up in a glass case along with cell phones and digital cameras. These are little plastic hand sharpeners which cost about a nickel. Never mind. I don't understand things here at all. But at least I've learned to ask for help finding what I need, and that's a worthwhile skill.
So all in all, a good Wednesday night: papers graded, groceries bought, and a little Ricky/Kenny/Celine. What more could I ask for?
Yep, I once more decided to borrow a school car and travel to the shopping center all by myself! The whole experience was approximately 683 times better than a week ago- I got the Suzuki again and started it on the first try. I'm actually starting to like the little truck! It only took me 10 minutes to get off campus, as opposed to an hour last time, and the guard didn't even have to jump out of my way as I passed the gate. I was able to turn on the lights as soon as the thunderstorm started, and I even knew where the windshield wipers were. (Mostly because I tend to accidentally turn them on when I'm trying to use the turn signal, but still, I knew where they were). Arrival was simple, and even parking went well. This time I didn't forget my list; I forgot my money. But I overcame the obstacle by successfully using the ATM machine- maybe I'm gaining a little resiliency and will be able to live here without trauma eventually. I navigated the extremely confusing set of staircases and ramps down to the food court, ordered my latte, and sat down to grade papers at a table just out of reach of the pouring rain.
Now, when I'm grading I tend to deal with frustration by changing location- if I'm becoming depressed by how kids are doing on a quiz, I'll move to a different setting and restart the grading. Actually, I decided to go grade at Village (the shopping center) because of a different kind of frustration: the power at the school was spiking and diving all day long. In theory we have a generator on campus which stabilizes our power; in reality there were at least 20 outages today. Sometimes the lights would start buzzing again quickly (ah, the wonders of florescence), sometimes they'd get enough juice to light up just as the power would quit again, and sometimes they'd just buzz and occasionally flicker. Holy distraction, Batman! It's especially challenging if you're playing a classwide game that requires the overhead projector, or putting grades into the ancient Dell that sometimes saves automatically and sometimes doesn't... All that to say, I was ready to grade somewhere else by 5:00.
After the latte was gone but there were still plenty of papers to grade, I got hungry for dinner and moved to a restaurant elsewhere in the mall. This was by far the best part of my evening. The restaurant turned out to be a wannabe sports bar; they had a couple of screens showing soccer games and they were pumping Ricky Martin loudly in the background. The waiters outnumbered the customers, no one was dancing nor drinking, and I was grading Algebra tests. I tell you, that's living La Vida Loca. ;) So I was giggling internally about the decade-old latin dance mix and the atmosphere that didn't quite match it when the music suddenly stopped. I was momentarily disappointed until they changed CDs and broke through to a whole new level of musical wonder: Kenny G. My giggling was not entirely internal at this point. But then it got even better! What could be better than pirated Kenny G in an African sports bar, you ask? Well, pirated Kenny G in an African sports bar playing Celine Dion, of course! I believe I laughed aloud when the bus boy started to earnestly whistle along to the soprano sax version of "My Heart Will Go On." I tried to pretend I was reading some really funny math tests, but I'm not sure I pulled it off.
Eventually the grading was done and it was time to brace myself for grocery shopping. I thought I'd imitate the culture around me and use a little tiny shopping cart- when I first moved here, I thought they were for children to push around like they are in the States. But according to my careful observations, they are to be used by anyone who doesn't have all that much to buy. That was me, so I gave it a shot. True, they're lighter, but I found I had trouble keeping it in front of me, and I had to hunch over to reach the bar to steer it. Today I got a B+ in shopping- I mostly found the things I was looking for, and when I came across something that wasn't on my list but hadn't been in stock for the last month, I bought 3 of them. I'm learning. I'm still not a master of the store's organizational layout; I searched high and low for a pencil sharpener in the school supplies section to no avail. Turns out it's in the hardware section (OK, I can see it being a tool), and they're kept locked up in a glass case along with cell phones and digital cameras. These are little plastic hand sharpeners which cost about a nickel. Never mind. I don't understand things here at all. But at least I've learned to ask for help finding what I need, and that's a worthwhile skill.
So all in all, a good Wednesday night: papers graded, groceries bought, and a little Ricky/Kenny/Celine. What more could I ask for?
Saturday, September 8, 2007
Distance
I've recently been hit by the reality of how physically far I truly am from friends and family. This has been brought into sharp focus over recent weeks because of the firing of Ken Kalisch, director of wilderness programs at HoneyRock. HoneyRock is the camp owned by Wheaton where I worked many summers through college and beyond. Ken was my boss as I led backpacking trips in '00, '02, and '04. He and his wife, Fran, are people of character, kindness, and simplicity, and they have influenced countless college and grad students to pursue the "High Road"- lives of Christlike ministry, community, challenge, reflection, and purpose. High Road is the name of the program he developed at HoneyRock; it's kind of a Christian version of Outward Bound. I certainly grew a lot through doing High Road as an incoming freshman at Wheaton, and the friendships I developed through the years at HoneyRock are precious to me. (Plus I got many of my best stories from those trips; that can't be underestimated). I can honestly say I am who I am because of God's intervention in my life through High Road. So as well it should, Ken's termination and the change in HoneyRock's direction disturbs me.
However, the reaction to these events has generally encouraged me- many folks who have been affected by Ken over the years are speaking up, working to celebrate his 30+ years of faithful service and protesting the injustice surrounding his firing. There has been a strong tenor of speaking the truth in love, examining our own hearts, and trying to respond in a Christlike manner. That alone is a powerful testimony to Ken's influence in our lives. The electronic age is great- there's a google group of High Road leaders that started with 2 members and has grown to 130, all sharing ideas about how to respond to this news. As someone on the other side of the world, I very much appreciate being able to be a part of those conversations. It's cool to see where former High Road instructors are and what they are doing; Ken truly has had an international impact on countless educators, social workers, pastors, and missionaries. Even though these are not the most high-paying jobs, people are responding in practical ways: a fund is being set up to support the Kalisch family through this period of financial difficulty, they have been offered a place to live, etc. Many letters have been written to the camp's board of directors, the trustees at Wheaton, and the director of the camp.
But the reason I've been reminded of distance is this: a reunion and celebration of Ken's work is being held in Wisconsin over Columbus Day Weekend. In many ways that's terrific. Tons of Ken's former students are trekking out, they'll all camp together, those who no longer own tents and stoves are borrowing from those that do, and many friendships will be rekindled as part of honoring Ken. The man who worked tirelessly to teach us about community will get to see generations of impact all in one place.
But I don't get to go. Many of you know that I really enjoy traveling across country to support my friends (hence the recent marathon of 12 weddings in 14 months). I love to reconnect with people at events, and I'll usually find a way to get to a party. This is one I don't want to miss: so many people I respect and want to learn from! So many stories to hear again and tell again! So many new insights gained in the years we've been apart! An opportunity to honor someone who's helped us to grow! A chance to worship together, mourn together, and celebrate together! But there's basically no way I could go. Physical distance, financial distance, even time commitment distance make attendance virtually impossible. So I'm sad to be left out of this expression of community. And I think about how this is only one of many events I won't be a part of. Whose births, adoptions, graduations, weddings, funerals, retirement parties, and going away parties will I miss? So many people are so very precious to me, and I've often expressed my care for them by showing up. Now I can't. Whose great idea was this? ;)
But there is one significant consolation in all this: prayer negates distance. (In math nerd talk, prayer is the normal subgroup of the spiritual world; everything it touches gets sucked right in no matter how big or small. Just like multiplying by zero). God is equally accessible to all His people, whether they be in Northern Wisconsin or Nairobi, whether it be the middle of the night or early in the afternoon. God knows no time zone. =) Prayer is miraculous! We are changed when we pray. We are brought into accordance with God's will through His Spirit. So a group of people who are continents apart can still implore God together and be moved to consistent action by His Spirit as a result. Incredible.
So I'm not really left out. I still have the ear of the Holy One. And on September 22, a day of prayer and fasting for HoneyRock, Wheaton, and the Kalisches, I look forward to beating the door of heaven with my fellow High Road instructors. Yes, there is community in prayer.
However, the reaction to these events has generally encouraged me- many folks who have been affected by Ken over the years are speaking up, working to celebrate his 30+ years of faithful service and protesting the injustice surrounding his firing. There has been a strong tenor of speaking the truth in love, examining our own hearts, and trying to respond in a Christlike manner. That alone is a powerful testimony to Ken's influence in our lives. The electronic age is great- there's a google group of High Road leaders that started with 2 members and has grown to 130, all sharing ideas about how to respond to this news. As someone on the other side of the world, I very much appreciate being able to be a part of those conversations. It's cool to see where former High Road instructors are and what they are doing; Ken truly has had an international impact on countless educators, social workers, pastors, and missionaries. Even though these are not the most high-paying jobs, people are responding in practical ways: a fund is being set up to support the Kalisch family through this period of financial difficulty, they have been offered a place to live, etc. Many letters have been written to the camp's board of directors, the trustees at Wheaton, and the director of the camp.
But the reason I've been reminded of distance is this: a reunion and celebration of Ken's work is being held in Wisconsin over Columbus Day Weekend. In many ways that's terrific. Tons of Ken's former students are trekking out, they'll all camp together, those who no longer own tents and stoves are borrowing from those that do, and many friendships will be rekindled as part of honoring Ken. The man who worked tirelessly to teach us about community will get to see generations of impact all in one place.
But I don't get to go. Many of you know that I really enjoy traveling across country to support my friends (hence the recent marathon of 12 weddings in 14 months). I love to reconnect with people at events, and I'll usually find a way to get to a party. This is one I don't want to miss: so many people I respect and want to learn from! So many stories to hear again and tell again! So many new insights gained in the years we've been apart! An opportunity to honor someone who's helped us to grow! A chance to worship together, mourn together, and celebrate together! But there's basically no way I could go. Physical distance, financial distance, even time commitment distance make attendance virtually impossible. So I'm sad to be left out of this expression of community. And I think about how this is only one of many events I won't be a part of. Whose births, adoptions, graduations, weddings, funerals, retirement parties, and going away parties will I miss? So many people are so very precious to me, and I've often expressed my care for them by showing up. Now I can't. Whose great idea was this? ;)
But there is one significant consolation in all this: prayer negates distance. (In math nerd talk, prayer is the normal subgroup of the spiritual world; everything it touches gets sucked right in no matter how big or small. Just like multiplying by zero). God is equally accessible to all His people, whether they be in Northern Wisconsin or Nairobi, whether it be the middle of the night or early in the afternoon. God knows no time zone. =) Prayer is miraculous! We are changed when we pray. We are brought into accordance with God's will through His Spirit. So a group of people who are continents apart can still implore God together and be moved to consistent action by His Spirit as a result. Incredible.
So I'm not really left out. I still have the ear of the Holy One. And on September 22, a day of prayer and fasting for HoneyRock, Wheaton, and the Kalisches, I look forward to beating the door of heaven with my fellow High Road instructors. Yes, there is community in prayer.
Tuesday, September 4, 2007
Success?
Well, I was thinking recently about how grocery shopping is going much better than it was a few weeks ago. I can find most things, and if they weren't in the location I last saw them, chances are they're gone and may or may not ever reappear. But at least I have _some_ idea of what I'm going to find. And since I'm doing so much better on the grocery shopping front, I decided it was time to branch out to something else that would make me feel incompetent and cause me to cry.
Driving alone was just the ticket! Now, the neighborhood around the school is very safe, what with American Embassy housing next door, chock-full of big patrolling Marines. Plus there are guards every 50 feet at the gates of enormous houses on all the streets, so even the most jumpy Americanites think it's OK to drive to the shopping center alone. Since I don't yet own a car, I decided to use one of the school vehicles; they are available after hours for a fee. I hadn't checked one out myself yet, so I tried to find a friendly staff member to help me. But everyone had bolted to intramural soccer games; I was on my own. Nonetheless, I figured out which key to use to get into the staff room (only to find, once I got in, that the door on the other side was wide open), I eventually discovered the key to get into the safe which held the vehicle keys (I knew there was a reason that key wouldn't open my filing cabinet...), but I was momentarily thrown when the cheapest car was already checked out. I recovered and chose the next cheapest car, but I almost gave up again when its keys were hanging in the safe, but the car itself was nowhere in the parking lot. Hm. By now it's a good half an hour past when I expected leave. However, I can be patient (I'm a teacher after all, right?), so I pressed on. I picked up the keys to a little truck, found the vehicle pretty easily, filled out the paperwork in the glove compartment, put the key in the ignition and...
I can't even turn the key. In fact, the harder I push, the more I feel the plastic on the handle of the key start to give. Actually, there are already cracks in that plastic- apparently someone's had this problem before. I try again. I try jiggling the steering wheel to unlock the ignition. I try some more. I try jiggling the steering wheel while making sure the clutch is fully engaged. I add the brake to the mix. I take off the emergency brake. I try combining any and all of those. I even try humming a few bars of "you're a good little car." Still no luck. I'm starting to feel really stupid- apparently I can't even start a car here! I wander over to nearby offices to see if anyone can help me. No one's there. I get back in the car and weaken the plastic on the key some more. Just then, one of my students who lives on campus walks by; I ask her if her dad is home. She says no, but her mom is, so come on over. When I walk in, her mom agrees to come look at the car with me. She looks for a "kill" button, some magic switch that helps to keep the car from being stolen. No luck. She asks if I _really_ need to go to the grocery store; won't I just come over to their house for dinner instead? A smart person would have said yes. But no, I'm nothing if not stubborn. I need milk. I need coffee. I need all-purpose baking flour. And at this point, it's getting too late to walk (that's not encouraged as dark approaches, even by native Kenyans).
Fortunately, one of the school's bus drivers walks by, and he is able to start the car. However, when I try to do it on my own, I still can't. He keeps telling me, "Do it halfway," and I keep nearly breaking the key off in the ignition. Finally I understand that I need to pull the key half-out of the slot to turn it past the lock position, then re-insert it the rest of the way. Oy. But I'm making progress. I've got a car. I've even got it started. And it's only been an hour. I'm hungry, which definitely increases my desire to cry and quit. But no. I need milk. I need coffee. I need dish soap. So I carefully back out and drive toward the main gate, recalling when I was learning to drive and my mom kept telling me "think left-think left-THINKLEFT!" (it was justified- I nearly drove our VW camper van into the wall of the garage). This time the mom-voice in my head (or maybe it was my voice- we sound so much alike) was screaming "think right!" I cut the gate a little close and maybe scared the guard, but no damage was done.
I finally walked into the grocery store after an extremely shoddy parking job, only to realize I had somehow forgotten my list. Grr. But I can persevere: I need milk. I need coffee. I need chocolate? Clearly. And as it turns out, I'm not as good at grocery shopping as I thought I was. One-time success does not equal mastery; I was pretty frustrated. When I finally got in line to check out, the woman in front of me apparently not only had forgotten half of what she wanted to buy and had the bag boy run and get it for her, but she had a very complicated means of payment involving carefully counted cash, store credit, a visa card, and something about the unshorn hair of her firstborn's head? It took a while- I don't know that I've ever before heard three hits from the 80s all the way through while waiting in a grocery store line. A one person line.
But I got through, paid for my groceries, and headed out to the parking lot. I even found the car right away, which surprised me, but by now it was dark. No worries. It's only a mile or so back to school. Which would be no problem if I could FIGURE OUT HOW TO TURN ON THE STINKING LIGHTS! I pushed every button I could find, using up a lot of windshield wiper fluid and verifying that the heat works but finding no illumination. After 10 minutes, I decided that there were probably enough street lights along the way that I wouldn't hit anything and nothing would hit me if I drove really slow. So I headed to the exit of the parking lot. When I got to that gate (where I hand back the piece of plastic that I got when I pulled in, the one I faithfully hauled around in my purse while in the store, the one that supposedly safeguards against someone escaping the parking lot after stealing my impossible to start car. You know, that gate), the guard asked kindly, "You don't want to turn on your lights?" At this point, I nearly did cry. But when he expertly twisted the end of the turn signal (exactly where the lights are in the car I've owned for the past 7 years...), I thanked him, drove home in safety, made it through the Rosslyn gate without scratching paint off anything, dropped off my groceries, parked between the lines, let myself into the staff room, put the keys back in the safe, walked back to my apartment, and wrote this post.
Success.
Driving alone was just the ticket! Now, the neighborhood around the school is very safe, what with American Embassy housing next door, chock-full of big patrolling Marines. Plus there are guards every 50 feet at the gates of enormous houses on all the streets, so even the most jumpy Americanites think it's OK to drive to the shopping center alone. Since I don't yet own a car, I decided to use one of the school vehicles; they are available after hours for a fee. I hadn't checked one out myself yet, so I tried to find a friendly staff member to help me. But everyone had bolted to intramural soccer games; I was on my own. Nonetheless, I figured out which key to use to get into the staff room (only to find, once I got in, that the door on the other side was wide open), I eventually discovered the key to get into the safe which held the vehicle keys (I knew there was a reason that key wouldn't open my filing cabinet...), but I was momentarily thrown when the cheapest car was already checked out. I recovered and chose the next cheapest car, but I almost gave up again when its keys were hanging in the safe, but the car itself was nowhere in the parking lot. Hm. By now it's a good half an hour past when I expected leave. However, I can be patient (I'm a teacher after all, right?), so I pressed on. I picked up the keys to a little truck, found the vehicle pretty easily, filled out the paperwork in the glove compartment, put the key in the ignition and...
I can't even turn the key. In fact, the harder I push, the more I feel the plastic on the handle of the key start to give. Actually, there are already cracks in that plastic- apparently someone's had this problem before. I try again. I try jiggling the steering wheel to unlock the ignition. I try some more. I try jiggling the steering wheel while making sure the clutch is fully engaged. I add the brake to the mix. I take off the emergency brake. I try combining any and all of those. I even try humming a few bars of "you're a good little car." Still no luck. I'm starting to feel really stupid- apparently I can't even start a car here! I wander over to nearby offices to see if anyone can help me. No one's there. I get back in the car and weaken the plastic on the key some more. Just then, one of my students who lives on campus walks by; I ask her if her dad is home. She says no, but her mom is, so come on over. When I walk in, her mom agrees to come look at the car with me. She looks for a "kill" button, some magic switch that helps to keep the car from being stolen. No luck. She asks if I _really_ need to go to the grocery store; won't I just come over to their house for dinner instead? A smart person would have said yes. But no, I'm nothing if not stubborn. I need milk. I need coffee. I need all-purpose baking flour. And at this point, it's getting too late to walk (that's not encouraged as dark approaches, even by native Kenyans).
Fortunately, one of the school's bus drivers walks by, and he is able to start the car. However, when I try to do it on my own, I still can't. He keeps telling me, "Do it halfway," and I keep nearly breaking the key off in the ignition. Finally I understand that I need to pull the key half-out of the slot to turn it past the lock position, then re-insert it the rest of the way. Oy. But I'm making progress. I've got a car. I've even got it started. And it's only been an hour. I'm hungry, which definitely increases my desire to cry and quit. But no. I need milk. I need coffee. I need dish soap. So I carefully back out and drive toward the main gate, recalling when I was learning to drive and my mom kept telling me "think left-think left-THINKLEFT!" (it was justified- I nearly drove our VW camper van into the wall of the garage). This time the mom-voice in my head (or maybe it was my voice- we sound so much alike) was screaming "think right!" I cut the gate a little close and maybe scared the guard, but no damage was done.
I finally walked into the grocery store after an extremely shoddy parking job, only to realize I had somehow forgotten my list. Grr. But I can persevere: I need milk. I need coffee. I need chocolate? Clearly. And as it turns out, I'm not as good at grocery shopping as I thought I was. One-time success does not equal mastery; I was pretty frustrated. When I finally got in line to check out, the woman in front of me apparently not only had forgotten half of what she wanted to buy and had the bag boy run and get it for her, but she had a very complicated means of payment involving carefully counted cash, store credit, a visa card, and something about the unshorn hair of her firstborn's head? It took a while- I don't know that I've ever before heard three hits from the 80s all the way through while waiting in a grocery store line. A one person line.
But I got through, paid for my groceries, and headed out to the parking lot. I even found the car right away, which surprised me, but by now it was dark. No worries. It's only a mile or so back to school. Which would be no problem if I could FIGURE OUT HOW TO TURN ON THE STINKING LIGHTS! I pushed every button I could find, using up a lot of windshield wiper fluid and verifying that the heat works but finding no illumination. After 10 minutes, I decided that there were probably enough street lights along the way that I wouldn't hit anything and nothing would hit me if I drove really slow. So I headed to the exit of the parking lot. When I got to that gate (where I hand back the piece of plastic that I got when I pulled in, the one I faithfully hauled around in my purse while in the store, the one that supposedly safeguards against someone escaping the parking lot after stealing my impossible to start car. You know, that gate), the guard asked kindly, "You don't want to turn on your lights?" At this point, I nearly did cry. But when he expertly twisted the end of the turn signal (exactly where the lights are in the car I've owned for the past 7 years...), I thanked him, drove home in safety, made it through the Rosslyn gate without scratching paint off anything, dropped off my groceries, parked between the lines, let myself into the staff room, put the keys back in the safe, walked back to my apartment, and wrote this post.
Success.
Sunday, September 2, 2007
Different
Lots of people have asked me about what's different here, so I present you with 5 noticeable differences in my routine and surroundings. No particular order, obviously...
Driving on the other side of the road is different, though honestly not as hard to get used to as I expected. I'm still working on mastering roundabouts instead of stoplights. I don't have a car yet, but I've borrowed others' and given driving a shot. It's strange to me that right turns are difficult and left are easy. Shifting with my left hand isn't that hard, but I have occasionally turned on the windshield wipers instead of the turn signal. A little embarrassing, but not disastrous. It's just like I'm waving at oncoming traffic. :)
Almost no one smokes here- it's illegal to smoke in public in Nairobi, so even when I'm walking through a group of people or waiting at a bus stop, I don't smell smoke. Nairobi is famous for its lightning-fast passage of laws- when I first got here, a city ordinance was passed that made it illegal to carry plastic bags on the street. You could, in theory, be arrested for carrying your groceries home in a plastic sack. The reasons behind the law weren't all bad- decrease littering and use of resources, encourage folks to transport supplies in reusable baskets. A police crackdown on plastic-bag-carrying might do that. But it was impractical, and the law was repealed within the same week. Fortunately, the smoking ban has been a bit longer lasting.
I've been drinking my coffee black. Usually I put some milk or cream in it, but the flavor of the coffee here is so good (and I haven't quite gotten used to the dairy products), so black is the new brown...
I have no sense for weather prediction. I know this is typical when moving to a new place- I remember looking out the window during the first week of my freshman year at Wheaton, seeing a cloudy sky, and putting on jeans and a sweatshirt. Not appropriate for August in Chicago. In Los Alamos, cloudy means cold and sunny means warm. Not so in the Midwest, and apparently not so in Kenya. It's not as cold as when I first got here, so I no longer deeply regret leaving my down comforter at home, but I still am clueless as to when it will rain, how warm it's likely to get, and whether I'll freeze in a skirt or boil in a long sleeved shirt. Time will tell; experience is a powerful teacher.
My eye meets hundreds of shades of green whenever I look outside. Here's the view out the front door of my apartment:
This morning one of my friends joked that things grow so well here that she's considering planting a sneaker to save some money on shoes. I'm fascinated by the flame tree between the two apartment buildings (below- see the big orange flowers at the top?), and I'm lucky to have a garden that stays beautiful with just weekly attention from Kennedy the groundskeeper. Perhaps even I could keep a plant alive for more than 3 days here...
So there's a quick glimpse into a few changes I've experienced in this move to Nairobi. I'm at a whiny point in my culture shock right now (i miss green chile... i can't find cold medicine... i want a 3 day weekend for labor day...), so I've tried to mention things I can be positive about. Please pray that God will give me "a willing spirit to sustain me." (Ps. 51) I know He is faithful.
Driving on the other side of the road is different, though honestly not as hard to get used to as I expected. I'm still working on mastering roundabouts instead of stoplights. I don't have a car yet, but I've borrowed others' and given driving a shot. It's strange to me that right turns are difficult and left are easy. Shifting with my left hand isn't that hard, but I have occasionally turned on the windshield wipers instead of the turn signal. A little embarrassing, but not disastrous. It's just like I'm waving at oncoming traffic. :)
Almost no one smokes here- it's illegal to smoke in public in Nairobi, so even when I'm walking through a group of people or waiting at a bus stop, I don't smell smoke. Nairobi is famous for its lightning-fast passage of laws- when I first got here, a city ordinance was passed that made it illegal to carry plastic bags on the street. You could, in theory, be arrested for carrying your groceries home in a plastic sack. The reasons behind the law weren't all bad- decrease littering and use of resources, encourage folks to transport supplies in reusable baskets. A police crackdown on plastic-bag-carrying might do that. But it was impractical, and the law was repealed within the same week. Fortunately, the smoking ban has been a bit longer lasting.
I've been drinking my coffee black. Usually I put some milk or cream in it, but the flavor of the coffee here is so good (and I haven't quite gotten used to the dairy products), so black is the new brown...
I have no sense for weather prediction. I know this is typical when moving to a new place- I remember looking out the window during the first week of my freshman year at Wheaton, seeing a cloudy sky, and putting on jeans and a sweatshirt. Not appropriate for August in Chicago. In Los Alamos, cloudy means cold and sunny means warm. Not so in the Midwest, and apparently not so in Kenya. It's not as cold as when I first got here, so I no longer deeply regret leaving my down comforter at home, but I still am clueless as to when it will rain, how warm it's likely to get, and whether I'll freeze in a skirt or boil in a long sleeved shirt. Time will tell; experience is a powerful teacher.
My eye meets hundreds of shades of green whenever I look outside. Here's the view out the front door of my apartment:
This morning one of my friends joked that things grow so well here that she's considering planting a sneaker to save some money on shoes. I'm fascinated by the flame tree between the two apartment buildings (below- see the big orange flowers at the top?), and I'm lucky to have a garden that stays beautiful with just weekly attention from Kennedy the groundskeeper. Perhaps even I could keep a plant alive for more than 3 days here...
So there's a quick glimpse into a few changes I've experienced in this move to Nairobi. I'm at a whiny point in my culture shock right now (i miss green chile... i can't find cold medicine... i want a 3 day weekend for labor day...), so I've tried to mention things I can be positive about. Please pray that God will give me "a willing spirit to sustain me." (Ps. 51) I know He is faithful.
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