T.I.A.

Here I sit upon the balcony of my hostel in Moshi, Tanzania. A beautiful, temporary home that come morning I will part ways with in search of another new adventure. Memory.

The weeks are vastly disappearing as we are now approaching the last stretch of our travels. I struggle to recall all we have seen and done because we seldomly stand still. Not much time to process everything. 

I'm attempting to indulge in a rare moment of solitude as the rest of the hostel guests are fast asleep.. It's one of the few nights in Africa I've stayed awake past 10:00 pm due to long, but sweet, exhausting days. 

We have begun out independent travel time (ITT) apart from our usual obnoxious 13 mzungu clan. My friend hailey and I hated the thought of being so close to Mount Kilimanjaro and not seeing it, so here we are--Moshi, Tanzania.

Though it almost seems tedious to come so far and not climb it, but a $1000 trek is far outside of our rice and beans budget. All the more insentive to come back, right? 

But as one of the locals told me today, "if you can't hike it, drink it." One of the best beers I've had since arriving in east Africa. So, cheers to admiring Kili from afar and dreaming of a future assent. It's more than unfortunate the clouds have been keeping the peak for themselves the last few days, but we did witness Kili in all her glory upon our bus ride in.

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You know you've been traveling a lot when you define a 10-hour bus ride as "short." That's what we have to look forward to tomorrow on our way to the coast of Dar es Salaam before we hop a ferry to Zanzibar. Bring on Stonetown, seafood and white beaches.

Our time passing through Uganda and Rwanda was short-lived but some of my most cherished. After finishing our time with our main partners, Young County Change Makers, in Kisumu, Kenya, all 13 of us were excited to escape the hot sun for a weekend of play on the river.

Short and sweet is how ill summarize this part of the trip:

Rafting the Nile-- awesome!

Bungee jumping over the Nile-- wicked awesome!

A long, cold night bus later we arrive at the Rwanda border. The sun is just coming up and the fog restrains your sight as we walk between borders-- we are in no-mans-land.

Sleepy-eyed and frozen to the bone (who knew Africa got so damn cold?), I hand the man my US passport.

"Your name is Michele?"

"Yes; my middle name is Michele."

"Like First Lady!"

Stamp!

Well, that was easy. If there are 2 people I've learned Africans love more than anyone, it's Obama and Celine Dion. The first one I get. Second? Not so much. 

The other 10 Canadians get grilled at the border while I blissfully ease my way through. Advantages to being from "Obama" as they call it. I'm no longer seen as from America, but from "Obama."

Hailey and I have had some interesting conversations with locals over the last week. Africans aren't shy to point fingers at mzungus and jump to conclusions that we are "rich." Little do they realize we are broke college students struggling to make our way around each country. A taxi driver of mine didn't believe us when we told him homelessness exists in the states, too.

"That's impossible! You're from Obama!"

We aren't so different. The longer I'm here, the more I'm exposed to the similarities I was blind and ignorant to previously. We are all human after all. We all want to love and be lived. To be happy. Something money plays no role in. 

It's funny we appear so different at the surface, yet so much the same at the heart. A lesson well learned during our home stays in Kigali, among several others.

As we walk down the Rwandan streets of Kimaranko, a small community devoted towards the widows of the genocide, we split in twos and designate a new home and host family for each pair. 

Nervous I was going spend my next week unable to communicate with my new family and forced to endure awkward silences at meals, I was pleasantly surprised to find my host mother has four beautiful daughters all near my age who spoke at least reasonable English. This was especially helpful translating the mothers French.

Leah, my roommate, and I were extremely fortunate, not only because we had means of communication, but because we both genuinely bonded with our sweet host-family. Never underestimate the power of human connection. You don't always have to speak to convey a thought or feeling. Sometimes a lack of words is a more powerful means of expression. I've experienced this especially with the kids of the villages we've visited. Sometimes holding their hand as you sit in silence is all the interaction they need. Some would content let sit in your lap all day if you'd let them. 

Human connection-- we are all one in the same.

A harder pill to swallow from our time in Rwanda was gaining personal perspective into the genocide of 1994. Visiting the memorials is already hard enough to digest, but after hearing insiders stories into their days of suffering, it makes it all the more heart wrenching. 

It's crazy to think such tragedy took place not too long ago. However, it's comforting to see how far Rwanda has come in the last 19 years. 

We hug our new family goodbye and board a 5am bus destined for Moshi (or so we thought). Ten hours later we awake to the crew telling us to get off the bus. Tired and confused, we ask if there is a problem.

"No problem. Your second bus leaves tomorrow morning."

"Excuse me?"

"You stay here tonight?"

Hailey and I look at each other with deer in the headlight eyes. The man who sold us out tickets neglected to tell us our ticket was not direct. Awesome. Where the hell are we?

As we politely complain of the miscommunication we are taken in a taxi to a bus station. We sit and wait inside a small, sweaty, smelly bus station next to live, tied-up chickens awaiting their inevitable fate. TIA. This is Africa.

A man writes us our new bus passes which leaves once again at. 5am. It's currently 4pm. A lovely woman the name of Anna walks us to the nearest hostel where she covers our accommodation. It was only $4, but a nice gesture nonetheless.the room was less than small, the long drop bathrooms smelled rancid and we lost a day of travel, but we ended up making the most of our random town of Kahama, Tanzania. We found a nearby pub, met some new friends, ate bread for dinner and made our next bus to Moshi. Hakuna Matata.

You just never know what you're going to get here in Africa.

12 hours later...hello Moshi! Hello Kilimanjaro! Waterfalls. Coffe farms. Hiking. Overcast weather. Good people. Good food. Big bites. Beer. Sunsets. New friends. Cozy hostel. Good conversations. Markets. Exploring. Adventure. Fun.

I am loving Tanzania.

More rando:

- you can sleep anywhere if you're tired enough, even on the concrete of a Ugandan bus station

-an "inclusive breakfast" might simply just mean white bread and a slice of watermelon 

-if a drunk woman shouts at you that she is not crazy, humor her. 

-expect the unexpected 

"All the white ladies in the black city"

When in Africa do as the Africans do, right?

"Do you get many mzungus in here asking for a head of braids?"

The surrounding hair stylist look at each other and laugh. Followed by a serious of polite questions, they take interest in my reasons for traveling across the world to see their hometown of Kisumu, Kenya.

I look at the calendar for the first time in days. Time is flying as we continue to move from city to city, school to school, project to project. 

We have been here in Kisumu, the third largest city in Kenya, for a week. Prior to now was our weekend escape to Naivasha. Nature. Lake. Hippos. Boating. Giraffes. Zebras. Camping. Biking. Hiking. Climbing. I felt in my element for the first time since arriving. Minus the heat.

A sweaty, crowded, bumpy six-hour mutatu ride later, we arrive at our new home for the next 12 days. A two-bedroom apartment shared amongst 13 people would normally be a recipe for disaster. However, it oddly works for this bunch of individuals. Well, we make it work. Cleaning, cooking and shower shifts along with  decompressing through deep discussions help distribute the inevitable cluster after long days.

As sleeping and eating on the floor becomes my new normal, I embrace my temporary lifestyle. Things that only two weeks ago seemed so foreign to me are beginning to feel insignificant. Commuting by tuk tuk, bargaining for fruit with street vendors, ordering endless chapati and beans, treating my drinking water, getting called mzungu, hand washing my clothes...it's all become a part of my daily routine that I no longer think twice about.

But there some things I've witnessed or experienced that I will never grow accustomed or desensitized to. It's one thing to not judge another's way of life, and another to remain passive about it. I can't stand still and stay ignorant to the struggles some are forced to cope with. 

Our apartment didn't have running water for only a day, and we complained that we had to sacrifice our showers and dinner plans. We are so oblivious to our most simple privileges.

We've been exposed to a lot in a short week. Collaborating with our partners, Young County Change Makers (YCCM), has been a rewarding challenge. Their mission is to empower the youth of the community through building relationships and encouraging formal and informal learning. We've spent a significant amount of our time visiting various classrooms across kisumu including special needs schools, juvenile detention centers, primary schools and university lecture halls. As we address discussion topics ranging from peace & justice, gender equality and education, I feel as though we are well received by the amount of students willing to contribute their voice and options to the workshops. The idea of making any kinda of lasting impression is probably naive, but sparking that initial thought is a start.

Of course, each one their own. Something to give and something to take away from. The most heart conflicting of the schools was the Ramand Home, the "juvinile" detention center. An lame excuse of a home for kids lacking any kind of support system. Many to no fault of their own remain inside the barriers of the center, unwanted by their parents or guardians. I gravitate towards the dozen girls among the other 80 boys. As I sit and draw pictures of African animals, a 13-year-old girl hesitantly shares her story of rape, abandonment, abuse and neglect. I'm left speechless and struggle to find any words of comfort or wisdom. I'm not equipped to offer any kind of advice. Neither her or I could understand the reason for her captivity. All I could think of to do was bring fun and laughter into the circle, even if only temporary. My camera has been good for that. These kids LURV pictures of themselves. My memory cards are consumed with endless images of some damn cute kids, and I'm okay with that for the kids are the ones who have pulled on my heart strings the most.

We spent 3 mornings at the Ramand Home. The last day the kids prepared a talent show for us when a character of a boy pulled me on stage to dance with him. The trend of pulling us mzungus to dance in front of everyone continued as a silly source of entertainment for all. The laughter carries contagiously. The thought of bonding with them all to only pick up and leave a short 3 hours later almost seemed cruel...to us and to them. But I guess we do as much or as little that we can. We bought them all toothbrushes and toothpaste with a portion of our fundraising money. I'm at a loss of how to contribute when the source of their issue is out of my control. They fight over my sunglasses and ask when I would be back go see them. I regretfully tell them I won't. 

The reality of these all too short interactions is that they are impacting me more than I'm impacting them. I hug them and feel a sincere embrace in return. I tell one of the girls to stay strong as I exchange one of my bracelets she had been eyeing for days. I left feeling heavy and as if I had abandoned them. 

Tomorrow is a new day. The sun is hot as our cheeks take on a rosy hue. We are all feeling drained, but spirits are still high. Optimistic about the library and toilet we are building inside Naylenta, a slum of Kisumu. The majority of the money all you beautiful people helped me raise is going towards this project. Organized by YCCM, the kids of Naylenta will have a place outside of school and home to socialize, study, relax and play. Not to mention more intentional hygiene precautions is an unfortunate reality that needs to change. The toilet is a start.

I'm constantly humbled by the selfless generosity of the community willing to pitch in and lend a hand towards the projects. Our company is welcomed, and I take comfort in the connections I make through comversations with the locals.

We started the painting of the library this morning. We have until Thursday to finish. Then it's off for a much needed break for some play time on the Nile in Uganda. I'm anxious to tackle some class 5 rapids and bungee jump over one of the most geographical famous locations in history. Hell to the yeah. Then it's off to Rwanda for a week where we will live with host families and do some more volunteer work among the community. 

I continue to be surrounded by the most wonderful group of individuals and am learning so much through the friendships I'm developing. It's hard to believe I've only known some of these girls for 2 weeks. Such is the nature of this kind of experience though. The bond forming here is unique and only do we know exactly what we are going through.

Thinking of you all,

Alex

Other random facts/thoughts/lessons you may or may not care to know:
1. I have an obnoxious amount of mosquito bites. One particular annoying one on my big toe.
2. My Chaco tan line is progressing nicely.
3. Night clubs in Kenya are a world of their own.
4. Always say you're married. Always.
5. There is no limit to how many people can fit inside a mutatu.
6. Being a mzungu has its disadvantages when you don't know how to bargain.
7. Being a mzungu has its advantages when trying to catch a mutatu.
8. Africa time means time is basically irrelevant.
9. Africans like a lot of sugar and milk in their chai.
10. Alex is a boy name. According to Kenyans. 

Jamii

Personalities start to emerge. Laughter carries the conversation as old school Britney Spears radiates through the travel speakers. Campfire. TUSKER beer. Dancing. I subtly sit in the backdrop taking it all in.

As a creature of solitude, I wasn't sure how I was going to respond to traveling with a dozen others for six weeks, but it's comforting to see a new family already molding itself. We all are outsiders looking in, and it's that isolation that brings us together. We are all learning to adapt.

Nothing quite makes you feel like an outsider more than roaming the streets of downtown Nairobi. The crowds, the stares, the smells, the chaos of the market...stimulation overload. The anxiety kicks in with echos of Swahili all around me and the grab of an arm. I try to stay calm among the chaos, but I feel suffocated.

It's our first full day in Nairobi and our leaders proposed a challenge to bargain in the market with 100 shillings, which is equivalent to less than a dollar. I managed a knock off pair of ray bands and was out of there in 10 minutes. I felt claustrophobic. The market made jaywalking in the middle of downtown seem like a breeze.

It's the next day, and for the first time I'm genuinely happy to be here. We hop a bus to Kibera, one of the slums of Nairobi, where we engage with the Massai Mbili artists, including Solo 7. These guys are incredibly talented and just plain cool. I had never felt so much acceptance, love and gratitude from strangers so quickly before. Solo contributed to much of the peace made during the recent election in Kenya through his street art, which is becoming recognized all over the world. I encourage you to research these guys. It was humbling getting to sit with them over a meal, admire some of their work and hear their perspectives on peace and change taking place here in East Africa.

The slums were calm and peaceful, which made me feel calm and peaceful. I felt so comfortable there, I was almost oblivious to the heart wrenching poverty taking place. It's not until I stop to look around and snap a few images that I realize the devastation taking place in Kibera. My heart stops for a second as reality sinks in. I'm left speechless as I scan my surroundings. A beautiful school girl asks me, "how are you?" with a subtle smile and I'm aware of the simple joys this community clings to as they are forced to live with little. Change still has to happen, but for now resides a lot of love and a lot of hope inside Kibera.

Yesterday we got to act like true "mzungus" with the excuse of a photo scavenger hunt. We made asses of ourselves as we ran like a hurd of monkeys all around Nairobi, but it was probably the most fun I've had since I've been here. I can say confidently that I now feel much more comfortable with the city, which was the goal of the whole game.

We haven't declared any winners yet due to one of our trip leaders, Josh, getting very sick yesterday. He went to the doctor late last night and I am awake with the sun waiting for others to get up and hear the verdict of the situation. We're hoping its not malaria because he will probably have to hang back in Nairobi today. We are supposed to hop a 2 hour mutatu ride to Naivasha this morning. We are going to rid the comforts of our hostel home and camp outside Hells Gate National Park to the sounds of hippos grunting. Tomorrow we will take an epic bike ride through the park and reinactments from the lion king are bound to happen on Pride Rock. To say I'm excited would be an understatement.  We are just hoping Josh will be able to join us.

On the 19th we head out to Kisumu for our big 2 week project working with Young County Change Makers. I know very little about that project thus far, but I will keep y'all posted.

Upenda mwenye furaha,

Alex

Jambo!

"Hope is alive while we're apart
Only tears speak for my heart
Break these chains that hold us down
And we shall live forever bound
When I'm tired and weary
And a long way from home
I reach for mother Mary
And I shall not walk alone." -Ben Harper

Ben Harper serenades me to sleep until hours pass and I'm abruptly awoken by the shake of a flight attendant asking me, "pork or fish?" The fish accompanied by a white roll wrapped in plastic was small and unsatisfying, but my body thanked me for the nutrients. I had barely ate in two days among the chaos of traveling.

With a full belly and two glasses of wine later, I fall back asleep to the sounds of my own drunken thoughts. It's the next morning and my sleepy eyes shutter open to a geographical screen showing us flying directly over the Nile and that's when it finally hits me--holy shit! I'm in Africa!

This is the first time it has really sunk in. A rush of adrenaline runs through me until my next unsettling thought. I couldn't help but think how all these exciting, new experiences all too quickly become distant memories as I fade one day into the next.

An overwhelming amount of mixed emotions rush through my head as my heart grows more open to whatever opportunities will surely present themselves. Here I am--alive and ready for whatever the good Lord places in front of me.

As I arrive at customs in Nairobi, I'm surprisingly calm. Mummers of multiple languages echo all around me, and I'm overly aware I am a traveler away from home. I try to embrace the fact that I am a "mzungu," or "white person."

I'm greeted by friendly faces. As we pile into the car, I'm overwhelmed by the overstimulation of the city. But as soon as we arrive at our humble little hostel,  I immediately feel at home. I grab a top bunk covered in NASCAR sheets and peacefully sleep for a short seven hour nap. It was still 2am back home, and my body was exhausted.

For dinner I escape the confinements of the hostel gates for the first time and I feel anxious to explore more of the city inspite of the pouring rain. The restaurant consisted of fold-out table and chairs and full of locals laughing over beers. Our server had us write our order on a moist, ripped piece of notebook paper. We sit and indulge in a simple meal consisting of mostly rice and beans as we watch futball on the television.

As I drink my first TUSKER beer by the fire with my new friends, we share of our plans over the course of the next six weeks. We have a lot of ground to cover and I feel slightly overwhelmed, but excited nonetheless.

KEWA HAPO, KEWA SASA, POPOTE ULIPO, KEWA HAPO. BE THERE, BE PRESENT, WHEREVER YOU ARE, BE HERE.

With love from Africa,
Alex