Everything will change.
December 13th, 2007
Days left in Kenya: <2.
Dear Lord.
So I haven’t blogged much lately, because the past couple weeks were ISP time-a-mondo. Whenever I was on a computer, I was typing away at my ISP, which I finished and turned in on time, thank you very much. The final page count was 85, and if you don’t count the cover page, bibliography and appendices, the actual text is a solid 61. I still didn’t say everything that I needed or wanted to say, and it still very much needs another once-over besides proof reading, but I’m insanely proud of what I’ve done. It’s a start, and it’s exciting.
I’m excited about the future.
However, by the time all 85 pages were typed, formatted, and proof-read, I didn’t want to even see a computer at all, so I’ve kept my thoughts to myself.
After we finished our ISP, we went out to Mombasa for our presentations and for our re-orientation. We took the train out, which was delightful – everyone was happy and loose and exhausted, so we slept and snuggled in our train compartments steadily over the night. Another train had derailed, however, so what should have been a 12-hour train ride getting into Mombasa at 7 AM ended up being a 24-hour train ride getting in at 7 PM. But it was a reunion for all the group, which had been scattered during ISP, so it was lovely to hear familiar voices and see beautiful, smiling faces.
Mombasa was brilliant. They got us an amazing hotel right on the beach, and for a few days we did nothing but present our ISPs in an air-conditioned (!) conference room and swim in the warm waters of the green Indian ocean. Gorgeous. Some presentations were pulling teeth, but most of them were pretty good, if not very interesting. My stage presence came in handy, and I held everyone’s attention during my presentation, which was afterwards lauded to me as one of the best ones. Yay! 
We also went out one night in Mombasa to an AMAZING club called Tembo (Swahili for elephant), and it was the second-best night out I’ve had in Kenya, the first being Cherrie’s birthday at the rasta club. They served me G&Ts with ICE!! Amazing. Sean and I got sufficiently inebriated, which was wonderful, as it hadn’t occurred for more than a month and a half. And they had a stage, which I made full use of.
I also did a lot of swimming, of course. Katie and I rode a camel, which was terrifying and awesome. We did a little drinking the other nights, including one night where Sean and I got a little tips (are you seeing a pattern?) at the bar, and when we were walking back along the beach to our hotel, we decided we had to swim, so stripped down to our skivvies and did so. So many stars were out that night; it was gorgeous. Nightswimming in the Indian ocean with too much wine in my head – perfect. Just perfect.
After some drama about leaving and transport, we headed back to Nairobi on the night bus. Matt and I were the generous ones, as there were two people too many for each of us to have two seats, so we agreed to bunk, but it was actually for the best because the bus was freezing and Matt was a mini-radiator next to me.
Let me say this now: I am in no way ready to leave Kenya. Not mentally, not physically, not emotionally – it still hasn’t sunk it that I board a plane the day after tomorrow. And I have made amazing friends during this trip, too – I know that not all of them will last, but I think that some of them really will. The 25 of us are the only people in the entire world who know what the hell we all got up to these past 3.5 months, and there’s something absolutely irreplaceable in that. Of course I am ridiculously eager to see all of you again, for I have missed you fiercely, but when I’m back in America, I’m going to miss this group a whole lot, too. We were all so lucky that everyone was awesome – I remember sitting in that conference room during ISP presentations, and feeling nothing but admiration for everyone sitting around me. Everyone is so different – different backgrounds, different cities and schools, different majors and different passions, but those passions are there for every single one of us. All of us want to effect good change in the world through any means that we can; none of us were there for four months of partying and hooking up with Kenyans. (Although that was there too, of course).
So this is my warning: it’s going to take me some time to get my head back on straight in America, mmkay? I don’t think I’ve radically changed over these 3 months, but I have changed. And I know all of you will have, too. So we might need a week or so to get re-familiar with each other, to remember how to laugh at each other’s jokes, how our bodies fit together when we hug, and just how much we simply can’t contain our love for each other. That last part will be the easiest for sure, and maybe we won’t need any time at all for this to happen, but we might. Four months isn’t a long time in the long run, but when it’s spent in a developing nation, it really is. But we’ll be fine; we adapt and we get better. Just forgive me if my head is nowhere near America when I’m back in America.
Anyway, we’re in Nairobi, and we’ve got nothing to do these past few days but pack, tie up loose ends, and party. That began last night, when a bunch of us went bar hopping in Westlands and in downtown Nairobi. It was a grand time, actually. We started off with some hookah, during which, Skyler asked me, “Kate, how many people have you made out with, and what percentage of them are gay?” I took a second to recount my experiences, and then said, “Three, and all of them?” which may have caused minor uproar among the group, most especially Nick. It was then Decided that this had to be remedied immediately and the goal of the night was to get me a random hookup. This resulted in much hilarity throughout the night, including at one point Nick asking permission from Julie, his girlfriend more or less, and then kissing me, which I hadn’t been expecting AT ALL. I felt a little awkward, but not too bad – it was actually very sweet and cute. And I did end up getting hit on a LOT that night, but none of the boys were cute enough or young enough for me to want to accomplish said Mission. I don’t particularly want to make out with any old sketchy dudes, regardless of whether or not they are Kenyan. But it was still a grand time – Nick was wasted, and Sean was tweaked out, which was excellent, since they both get very loving and protective and I’m The Guy-ish in such scenarios. I lost count of the number of times that Nick looked over at me during the night, when I would be dancing or drinking or whatnot, and go, “For the love of GOD, Kate, find a man! Just – go! For God’s sake! Twende!” or, in general, just cursing loudly. I think he felt responsibility on behalf of the Brotherhood of Men everyone for what he viewed as their grievous oversight. Others were echoing similar sentiments, the most hilarious of which being drunken!Cherrie’s, “I don’t even understand it! It’s not like you aren’t an attractive person! You’re, like, hot!” Hilarious. Nick was really being a sweetheart, though. As was Sean, but I realized just how fucked up he was when we were dancing and then he and I were Dancing. Hee. It’s almost noon and the both of them are still passed out, which is kind of perfect in every way.
We’re going out tonight and then Friday as well, but tonight should be notable because Matt and I have promised each other that we’re gonna try Mirra – it’s a local plant that people chew recreationally and apparently has a similar effect to caffeine. It’s very mild, totally legal, available everywhere, widely used, and very safe, so don’t worry about me, but it’s one of the things everyone says you need to try in Kenya. I won’t be trying changaa, the cheap liquor that often turns into methanol instead of ethanol and can kill or blind you, but mirra is safe. I chewed a little last night, but not enough to feel anything. So tonight is time to do it big or go home!
Now, however, errands, and saying goodbye to my homestay family, which I am no way in hell ready to do. I’ve bought a khanga for my mama, I’ve got a STL tshirt for my baba, and I’m bringing a bottle of Amarula along with me, the African Bailey’s, but again – in no way ready.
Everything will change.
T-minus <10 days.
December 5th, 2007
I woke up this morning to a strange sight. I was back in my bed in Nairobi, in my nyumbani salama with my homestay family. Blinking the sleep and sunlight out of my eyes, I looked at my room and was greeted by an unfamiliar sight: my bags, haphazardly packed with khangas hanging out the side, Nakumatt bags peeking out of corners, and my life for these past three months or so being slowly rounded up and prepared to be brought home. I only have two more days left in Nairobi before we head to Mombasa again to do our ISP preparations for about four or five days, then back to Nairobi for our last couple in Africa, and then onto a plane headed back to Dubai. Unbelievable. 10 days till the end of my semester abroad. This has easily been the fastest semester of my life.
Karissa and I left Kisumu on Sunday, thankfully getting out of town before Raila came in for a rally – Raila = the opposition for the presidency, and he’s a Luo, and Kisumu is Luoland central. There weren’t any riots, but the town must’ve been absolutely crazy that afternoon, so I’m glad we took the early bus.
Saturday was World AIDS Day, as it is every December 1st. I spent the day volunteering with Tuungane, as they helped out with the official celebrations, which were held slightly out of town in a big field of a high school. Let me put it this way: the event was very, very African. Heh. I got to Tuungane at 7:30, per Topistar’s request, and didn’t move until 9:45. Events were slated to start at 10, and they started at 12:30. I pretty much sat around and didn’t do anything until around 2, when I helped Topistar and a handful of other Tuungane volunteers hand out soda and bread to the mass populous attending the events. People were perplexed by a mzungu offering them a soda and serving it to them at first, but they gladly accepted it. The proceedings for the day were being done in Swahili and Luo, so the day was pretty ineffective to me, but it was nice to be able to help out. And I got a sweet tshirt with the national AIDS campaign logo on it: “Pamoja Tuangemize Ukimwi” – “Together, we can end AIDS.” I got a hat, too! But it was so damn hot outside. When I got back to the hostel, I was heat-exhausted and sore from hauling soda. But we got delicious Indian food for dinner, so that was swell. Indian food in Kenya is so. freakin’. good.
Sunday and Monday were spent in transit and writing my ISP, respectively. As of right now, I am just beginning to start my discussion and analysis of my field work, which should be the bulk of the paper, and I’m on page 39. hahaha. I start off my paper with two quotes that I have unashamedly ganked from my hero, Paul Farmer:
“Of all the forms of inequality, injustice in health is the most shocking and the most inhumane.” – Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.
“The microbe is nothing; the terrain, everything.” – Louis Pasteur
I’d also like to throw in another one of my favorites, but it’s more development than health, per se: “Rats and roaches live by competition under the laws of supply and demand; it is the privilege of human beings to live under the laws of justice and mercy.” – Wendell Berry
The three weeks I spent in Kisumu were amazing. Even in that short time, I saw things that were inspiring and devastating. I saw dozens of HIV+ mothers who had been given a lifetime of new hope when they were told that, yes, their child is HIV-. And I saw women’s whose lives came crashing down around them in a single sentence as the PMTCT nurse and I told them that their rapid HIV test had come back positive – “Una virusi kwa ukimwi,” “You have the virus that causes AIDS.” Some of them bent their heads and said they had known, that they had gotten a test a few months ago but hadn’t wanted to believe the results. Some started to cry in dismay, stating that they had only been married a few years and had been faithful to their husbands the entire time. One girl I saw rejected the results and left, saying that the test was lying and couldn’t be true. Almost all of them, though, almost all of them, asked if the baby in their womb would be OK. My week that I worked in PTMCT at the Provincial Hospital was heartbreaking and harrowing, and I didn’t even understand half of the language being used. But there are some things you don’t need language for; there are some things that are written across our faces as plain as day, and you need no translation to understand the overwhelming grief in their eyes.
When you put a face to HIV, when you see someone’s life change in the instant that they are told they are positive, it changes you. I wanted so very much to give them hope, to tell them that they can have negative children and live a full, exceedingly normal life. But I lack the language, I lack the training, I lack the wisdom. But I wonder how much of that is wishful thinking on my part. Of how much use are all the miraculous medical interventions we now can do when a woman is going to be thrown out of her house and stigmatized by her entire community, being blamed for her sickness that is rarely her fault? What use is neviraprine and AZT when a mother will be forced to breastfeed her child past 6 months (with skyrocketing chances of transmission) because there is no food for the child? Where is the telos of medicine? What are our ends?
It’s like something one of the jaded peace corps volunteers said to me about Africa: first it breaks your heart, then it breaks your soul.
But not yet as for me. Yes, even that one measly week I worked in the hospital was gutting and exasperating, and I have no idea how the PMTCT counselors do it day in and day out. But these are miracles: it is nothing short of a miracle that a man who was once doomed to a death bed in a few short years can live healthily to see his grandchildren. It is nothing short of a miracle that a HIV+ woman can give birth to a HIV- child. They are miracles, they are feats of the human mind and spirit and they are incredible. Medicine can be so much more than sustaining a chronic cancer patient past the points of logic and hope, it can be so much more than prozacking our nation into dumb complacency. Medicine can bring health, health is the first part of life, and life is a miracle.
Of science and the human heart there is no limit.
God, how I pray that is true.
Back to work, my friends. These thoughts that I’ve been thinking over the past three years or so are finding their way into paragraphs and sneaking their way into footnotes, and I think at the end of day I’m going to have a pretty baller ISP. Miss y’all like mad, and I’ll truly be home before you know it.
