"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.