Sunday, March 29, 2009
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Poa Kabisa
Hot Sun Foundation- whoa mama. My supervisor quit and I was given the honor of filling her position. This means I now work anywhere from 12 to 15 hours 6 days a week and I loooove every minute of it. Sarcasm. I really do enjoy the work, but it's difficult playing catch up for a competition that is now just 3 days away. When I officially started last week we had no venues, a fucked up budget, no judges, 17 groups when there were only supposed to be 6 and trainers who were demanding more than their share of money. After sorting everything out I get to work and know what needs to be done, but HSF is also shooting a film so the 6 people I used to oversee are now on set and I'm left with one girl, Zitah, to help me. She is a huge help, fun and very kind to work with. She asked me last night if she should quit because she doesn't think she is qualified to work here. The truth is none of us at this organization are really qualified, I'm certainly not, but we learn as we go along. But I assured her that she has been a strong leader and great helper to me and without her I would be lost, after saying that she was back to her usual happy self. Our first performance is this Saturday and we have another one on Sunday. I'm anxious to watch the groups perform. I've been to rehearsals and there is room for improvement, but watching the kids get up there and do their raps or choral verses is so great.
Nyumbani (home): All quiet on the western front. Things at home are great. I went to my mama's motherland, Meru, a few weeks back and met her mother and father. Her mama is this old as hell, full of gusto woman with no front teeth and every 5 minutes my mama asks, "where did your teeth go mama?" Her dad just sits there while his hunched over wife races around gathering sticks, fetching water, cooking and waiting on him. It's frustrating to watch, but that's how it is in the country and with people of that generation. Think about your grandparents- chances are your grandma does more at home than your grandpa. In Meru we attended a Harambe, which means come together, and is a fundraiser. We raised over 1 million Kenyan Shillings, which is over $12,000 for the school my mama used to attend. It was fun and the MC called to me asking if I could make a foreign investment- I happily obliged. Then another weekend I went to a funeral, which was very eye opening. The niece of the man who had died did not believe he was dead and demanded to open the casket. She was pushed away and started to hysterically cry and then she started convulsing on the ground. A few other women dropped to the ground with sadness at the funeral. People just go crazy and cry for 1 or 2 days and then they move on. The past is the past and you can not dwell on the deceased.
Queer Life: Me and Jake had been following a blog called Rants and Raves of a Gay Kenyan before we came. We contacted the blogger, named Peter and met up with him. After getting a drink with him on a Thursday he then took us out on a Friday treating us to dinner, drinks and a night of clubbing. We had so much fun and have many stories. My best one is a married man tried taking me to a hotel. For two hours he kept me captivated with flattering words and tempting invitations, but the ring on his finger was a bit distracting. He wanted to go to the country for the weekend and stay at a hotel, but I declined much to his dismay. People are soooo forward here and the things he was saying made me a bit dizzy and I could not stop laughing (After reading that it sounds like he ropphied me, don't worry that didn't happen). Jake and I are supposed to go out with Peter again, so hopefully we'll have another exciting outing and I will bring back more stories.
Until then nimejitoya (peace out)!
Nyumbani (home): All quiet on the western front. Things at home are great. I went to my mama's motherland, Meru, a few weeks back and met her mother and father. Her mama is this old as hell, full of gusto woman with no front teeth and every 5 minutes my mama asks, "where did your teeth go mama?" Her dad just sits there while his hunched over wife races around gathering sticks, fetching water, cooking and waiting on him. It's frustrating to watch, but that's how it is in the country and with people of that generation. Think about your grandparents- chances are your grandma does more at home than your grandpa. In Meru we attended a Harambe, which means come together, and is a fundraiser. We raised over 1 million Kenyan Shillings, which is over $12,000 for the school my mama used to attend. It was fun and the MC called to me asking if I could make a foreign investment- I happily obliged. Then another weekend I went to a funeral, which was very eye opening. The niece of the man who had died did not believe he was dead and demanded to open the casket. She was pushed away and started to hysterically cry and then she started convulsing on the ground. A few other women dropped to the ground with sadness at the funeral. People just go crazy and cry for 1 or 2 days and then they move on. The past is the past and you can not dwell on the deceased.
Queer Life: Me and Jake had been following a blog called Rants and Raves of a Gay Kenyan before we came. We contacted the blogger, named Peter and met up with him. After getting a drink with him on a Thursday he then took us out on a Friday treating us to dinner, drinks and a night of clubbing. We had so much fun and have many stories. My best one is a married man tried taking me to a hotel. For two hours he kept me captivated with flattering words and tempting invitations, but the ring on his finger was a bit distracting. He wanted to go to the country for the weekend and stay at a hotel, but I declined much to his dismay. People are soooo forward here and the things he was saying made me a bit dizzy and I could not stop laughing (After reading that it sounds like he ropphied me, don't worry that didn't happen). Jake and I are supposed to go out with Peter again, so hopefully we'll have another exciting outing and I will bring back more stories.
Until then nimejitoya (peace out)!
Sunday, March 1, 2009
Kila Kitu (Everything)
Kwa hivyo (so) things have changed for the better with my home-stay. I’m much more comfortable at home and even Adrian and I have formed a somewhat close bond. By that I mean, when he throws a banana at me, I throw it back and it turns into a game and instead of a fight. I had a long talk with my Mama last week and ever since then things feel and are good. I’m much happier in that regard.
School is still hivi hivi (so-so), but we’ve been getting a lot of time off to “work” on the three papers I have due at the end of the program. We have three, annoying 15 page papers and we’re not allowed to check out books from the library at the University of Nairobi, not to mention internet is scarce most of the time, which makes it a challenge to get work accomplished. Anyway we’ve been getting Fridays off to do work on our papers, but obviously we use that time to hang out or go on trips.
This past weekend my friend, Melinda, and I went to Mombasa- the city everyone and their mom told me I had to go visit. Aside from the beaches, there is nothing that great about Mombasa. It is just like Nairobi, but slower-paced, Muslim influenced and much more humid. The beaches make the long, crazy journey (9 hrs there and 8 hrs back) worth it though. They’re not exactly drop-dead gorgeous, but peaceful and relaxing except for the constant bother of people trying to sell us stuff. We met some really nice students from Kenyatta University who were taking the weekend to celebrate the end of their rough final examinations (very competitive and decide your future type exams). They explained to us how pretty much everyone in the water did not know how to swim, which is why there were so many floatation devices. The Indian Ocean might as well be a bath and is by no means refreshing after sweltering in the humidity and scorching sun. I thought I was being good and careful with sunscreen, but I ended up getting some bad burns on my stomach and back. I showed them to my advisor, Abdul-Aziz and he asked me, “So if I go to America will I get frostbite from the cold if I don’t use lotion like you use for sun?” I have no clue where he got such a fantastic idea, but we all laughed and told him he had nothing to worry about.
Abdul-Aziz is hilarious to talk and discuss Kenyan culture with. He is a perfect example of a Kenyan who wants to grasp how things work in America, with no actual concentration on what we’re saying and will still do as he does here. For instance he asked me and some friends about how you would approach someone you like in America, we explained, but he still aggressively comes on to many female students despite having a wife, three kids and a desire for two more someday. Some of the girls complain about him, but that’s how things are here, plus he’s just great and has the most wonderful and infectious laugh I’ve ever heard.
The other day at my internship, I was asked if I would emcee the final event for the project I wrote about earlier. I asked if I had to and they told me my options were to emcee or videotape, and not being one to stay behind a camera I of course jumped on the opportunity. I’m slightly nervous since all of Kibera will be there to watch, but it will also be amazing, plus I have plenty of time to rehearse. I’m really loving working with this organization. Right now it’s less work and more fun. I’m getting to know my co-workers and my way around Kibera, which is a winding maze of clustered housing and endless amounts of trash, where it is very easy to get lost. Those who live in the slum are some of the nicest people I’ve ever met. It is the only place in Nairobi where little kids run up to you and grab your hand wanting to shake it, or they do this endearing little song and dance where they repeatedly ask you,
“How are you? How are you? How are you?” and when I say, “Nzuri sana, na wewe (very good and you)” they just run away, not expecting my Kiswahili response.
Kibera has an infamous reputation and is glorified by our teachers as an unsafe place that the government chooses to ignore to the point they hope it disappears. But the slum, which is more like its own city with a population close to 1 million, is alive and growing. It is my favorite matatu stop to arrive at in Nairobi. The second I get off the matatu there is a competitive cacophony of songs blaring from different vendors selling shoes, meat, live chickens, pirated DVDs and a plethora of other things for insanely cheap prices. The DVDs work well too! But that’s the “wealthy” part of Kibera, the exterior façade luring you into the actual forgotten city, which is distracting and magnifying all at once. From the little boy peeing into the slimy river off his doorstep to the aspiring artists depicting life in the slum and rivaling any contemporary artist hanging in galleries, everywhere you look there is something to see. I resent my teachers who tried to scare us from going there, which did not work because about 15 students volunteer at an elementary school in Kibera, plus two other students and I are doing our internships there. Obama actually came and spoke in Kibera when he was last here about a year or so ago.
One very interesting thing about Kibera is that there are approximately 700 NGOs, CBOs (community based organizations) and non-profits working in Kibera alone. The effects of these organizations are not always visible or tangible, which makes many researchers, analysts and myself question their impact. I do not know the extent to which my organization, HotSun Foundation, makes a difference, but it is at least getting community members involved in something positive. Over 400 people came to try out for our movie, many of whom will be used as extras. Fliers for our story-telling competition have only been up for about a week now and already 4 teams are signed up and daily people stop by inquiring about it. Sadly we have to turn away many because there is an age requirement, we’ve had men close to 50-years-old asking to do it, clearly not having read the requirements that you must be 15-23. It’s fun and I really love my co-workers. They’ve loved me since day one, no questions asked.
Every now and then I get homesick and really miss people back home, but I’m so happy here and growing so much. Sick and corny as that is, it’s so true!
Love and miss you all….
School is still hivi hivi (so-so), but we’ve been getting a lot of time off to “work” on the three papers I have due at the end of the program. We have three, annoying 15 page papers and we’re not allowed to check out books from the library at the University of Nairobi, not to mention internet is scarce most of the time, which makes it a challenge to get work accomplished. Anyway we’ve been getting Fridays off to do work on our papers, but obviously we use that time to hang out or go on trips.
This past weekend my friend, Melinda, and I went to Mombasa- the city everyone and their mom told me I had to go visit. Aside from the beaches, there is nothing that great about Mombasa. It is just like Nairobi, but slower-paced, Muslim influenced and much more humid. The beaches make the long, crazy journey (9 hrs there and 8 hrs back) worth it though. They’re not exactly drop-dead gorgeous, but peaceful and relaxing except for the constant bother of people trying to sell us stuff. We met some really nice students from Kenyatta University who were taking the weekend to celebrate the end of their rough final examinations (very competitive and decide your future type exams). They explained to us how pretty much everyone in the water did not know how to swim, which is why there were so many floatation devices. The Indian Ocean might as well be a bath and is by no means refreshing after sweltering in the humidity and scorching sun. I thought I was being good and careful with sunscreen, but I ended up getting some bad burns on my stomach and back. I showed them to my advisor, Abdul-Aziz and he asked me, “So if I go to America will I get frostbite from the cold if I don’t use lotion like you use for sun?” I have no clue where he got such a fantastic idea, but we all laughed and told him he had nothing to worry about.
Abdul-Aziz is hilarious to talk and discuss Kenyan culture with. He is a perfect example of a Kenyan who wants to grasp how things work in America, with no actual concentration on what we’re saying and will still do as he does here. For instance he asked me and some friends about how you would approach someone you like in America, we explained, but he still aggressively comes on to many female students despite having a wife, three kids and a desire for two more someday. Some of the girls complain about him, but that’s how things are here, plus he’s just great and has the most wonderful and infectious laugh I’ve ever heard.
The other day at my internship, I was asked if I would emcee the final event for the project I wrote about earlier. I asked if I had to and they told me my options were to emcee or videotape, and not being one to stay behind a camera I of course jumped on the opportunity. I’m slightly nervous since all of Kibera will be there to watch, but it will also be amazing, plus I have plenty of time to rehearse. I’m really loving working with this organization. Right now it’s less work and more fun. I’m getting to know my co-workers and my way around Kibera, which is a winding maze of clustered housing and endless amounts of trash, where it is very easy to get lost. Those who live in the slum are some of the nicest people I’ve ever met. It is the only place in Nairobi where little kids run up to you and grab your hand wanting to shake it, or they do this endearing little song and dance where they repeatedly ask you,
“How are you? How are you? How are you?” and when I say, “Nzuri sana, na wewe (very good and you)” they just run away, not expecting my Kiswahili response.
Kibera has an infamous reputation and is glorified by our teachers as an unsafe place that the government chooses to ignore to the point they hope it disappears. But the slum, which is more like its own city with a population close to 1 million, is alive and growing. It is my favorite matatu stop to arrive at in Nairobi. The second I get off the matatu there is a competitive cacophony of songs blaring from different vendors selling shoes, meat, live chickens, pirated DVDs and a plethora of other things for insanely cheap prices. The DVDs work well too! But that’s the “wealthy” part of Kibera, the exterior façade luring you into the actual forgotten city, which is distracting and magnifying all at once. From the little boy peeing into the slimy river off his doorstep to the aspiring artists depicting life in the slum and rivaling any contemporary artist hanging in galleries, everywhere you look there is something to see. I resent my teachers who tried to scare us from going there, which did not work because about 15 students volunteer at an elementary school in Kibera, plus two other students and I are doing our internships there. Obama actually came and spoke in Kibera when he was last here about a year or so ago.
One very interesting thing about Kibera is that there are approximately 700 NGOs, CBOs (community based organizations) and non-profits working in Kibera alone. The effects of these organizations are not always visible or tangible, which makes many researchers, analysts and myself question their impact. I do not know the extent to which my organization, HotSun Foundation, makes a difference, but it is at least getting community members involved in something positive. Over 400 people came to try out for our movie, many of whom will be used as extras. Fliers for our story-telling competition have only been up for about a week now and already 4 teams are signed up and daily people stop by inquiring about it. Sadly we have to turn away many because there is an age requirement, we’ve had men close to 50-years-old asking to do it, clearly not having read the requirements that you must be 15-23. It’s fun and I really love my co-workers. They’ve loved me since day one, no questions asked.
Every now and then I get homesick and really miss people back home, but I’m so happy here and growing so much. Sick and corny as that is, it’s so true!
Love and miss you all….
Monday, February 16, 2009
Sunday, February 15, 2009
A little bit, a lot of what's been happening
I was just going to upload pictures because I think they say more than I could ever say, but to appease certain people (Trangle, cough cough) I will try to describe parts of what’s been going on here in Kenya this past month.
Every morning on my way to school I encounter four or five burning piles of trash, men peeing on the protective wall that surrounds the hospital housing that I live in and beautiful women with babies wrapped snuggly around their backs. Little by little I’ve become desensitized by many things and even find certain things enjoyable. For instance, I love matatus. They get me where I want to go faster than any city bus or car ever could. The loud music is fun to dance to and I’m always in for a good adventure when I’m on one.
Just yesterday I was sitting close to the door when a guy jumped in to talk to me about how Obama was his brother and black power was alive and well. Then he yelled, “black power, world domination, we’re taking over!” The whole matatu, about 20 people crammed into one van, looked at me and laughed, but I think I was laughing the hardest of them all.
Things are just different here. It’s hard to describe unless you experience it. But as soon as you say hello or acknowledge another person you’ve formed a connection with them. It doesn’t matter if you start a conversation or just keep walking, you both know that if you see each other you’ll say hello again but care a little more. At the same time, Nairobi defines “dog eat dog” mentality. People push, shove, bite to get on a matatu even though the same route will show up in about 30 seconds blaring insanely good reggae. People love to watch police arrest others and if someone can cheat you out of your money or better yet steal your money they will. Not to worry, I have not been mugged or lost anything (knock on wood).
I feel like I’ve done a lot and yet done nothing at the same time. Last weekend I went to one of my program director’s home, which was about 45 minutes outside Nairobi. He comes from a traditional Maasai family therefore we met his mother and his father’s other two wives. We at lots of goat meat and hung out with cows. We joked about how often one gets to hang out with a polygamist Maasai family watching them make their incredible beaded jewelry, eating their tasty food.
One of my friends here, Jake, lives with a woman who runs her own makeshift orphanage and on Saturdays we go and help out. The children are amazing and all they want is to be held and loved, even the older kids who are about 12-years-old. My arm hair was like the most fascinating, enjoyable thing for them and they would nuzzle into it, often rubbing their cheeks against it. It was cute and we had lots of fun with them.
So classes are both interesting and agonizing. Interesting because the teachers are charismatic and great storytellers. Agonizing because we’re really not learning much and each class lasts two hours. One class is called Development and another class is called Country Analysis and each professor says the exact same thing. But the country analysis professor uses great metaphors that paint pictures rather than provoke though, still they are entertaining and priceless nonetheless. We have Kiswahili for about 4 hours every day and as much as it is, I still find it interesting. I try practicing it at home, but have yet to really use it outside of the house. We have three teachers that rotate every day and one of them, Omanga, is beautiful and a joy to make smile, which means I purposely make mistakes so that he’ll laugh at me. Little does he know I knew the right answer and got the last laugh.
My family is fine, not great, not bad, just fine. I have some problems with how they reprimand their children- corporal punishment- and their lack of involvement in their children’s lives, which leads to them acting up and finding ways to pester me. This morning Adrian thought it would be funny to repeatedly spit his ndizi (banana) at me. Even if I tried punishing him it would not work because he a) doesn’t care and b) doesn’t speak any English. I’m supposed to stay with my family the whole time I’m here because my internship is based in Nairobi, but I wanted to use this weekend to make my decision about switching because lately I’ve just felt very uncomfortable at home. My family doesn’t seem to care about me much, unless we’re out drinking, and this weekend they went out of town without telling me. They left me alone with the kids and house-help, which was fine except it would have been nice to know. Because of that I want to look into switching to this family that lives close to my internship. The girl who lives with them now will be doing her internship somewhere rural, which would free up space for me. Who knows what will happen though. I’m optimistic and happy about everything else.
I’m interning for this organization called Hot Sun Foundation that Jake informed me about. Side note: Jake is one of the coolest, nicest, smartest people I’ve ever met AND he’s gay and goes to Madison, which means we’re instant best friends, duh! Anyway HSF is in Kibera, the large slum anyone who’s ever been to Nairobi should know about, and they’re a non-profit that does a few really cool things. One, they show movies on a huge screen that’s set up in Kibera every two weeks, keeping kids safe and out of trouble, while being entertained and educated. Two, they’re making the first ever feature-length film written by, directed by and starring people living in a slum. I’m involved with the movie by doing casting right now, but my main endeavor is this project called Stories from Kibera. It’s an oral-tradition story-telling competition for residents ages 15-23. The theme is reconciliation based on the election violence last year and professors and students from the University of Nairobi theater department have agreed to come in and train the three finalists that will then perform for all of Kibera. It will sort of be like American Idol where there will be judges, but then residents will also get to vote as well. I’m really excited about it and it’s also sort of fate because a grad student who TAs for J 202 is involved with HSF. Look them up at hotsunfoundation.org and check out the video clips they already have. The organization started when Nathan Collet, the co-founder, shot a 13 minute story about a boy living in Kibera, called Kibera Kid. The short film took off and won all sorts of awards world-wide and then he moved back to Kibera and started HSF.
Ok that’s all I can think to write as of now. I’ll update this from time to time, but internet is hard to come by and very iffy. Hope everyone is doing well and I send my love!
Every morning on my way to school I encounter four or five burning piles of trash, men peeing on the protective wall that surrounds the hospital housing that I live in and beautiful women with babies wrapped snuggly around their backs. Little by little I’ve become desensitized by many things and even find certain things enjoyable. For instance, I love matatus. They get me where I want to go faster than any city bus or car ever could. The loud music is fun to dance to and I’m always in for a good adventure when I’m on one.
Just yesterday I was sitting close to the door when a guy jumped in to talk to me about how Obama was his brother and black power was alive and well. Then he yelled, “black power, world domination, we’re taking over!” The whole matatu, about 20 people crammed into one van, looked at me and laughed, but I think I was laughing the hardest of them all.
Things are just different here. It’s hard to describe unless you experience it. But as soon as you say hello or acknowledge another person you’ve formed a connection with them. It doesn’t matter if you start a conversation or just keep walking, you both know that if you see each other you’ll say hello again but care a little more. At the same time, Nairobi defines “dog eat dog” mentality. People push, shove, bite to get on a matatu even though the same route will show up in about 30 seconds blaring insanely good reggae. People love to watch police arrest others and if someone can cheat you out of your money or better yet steal your money they will. Not to worry, I have not been mugged or lost anything (knock on wood).
I feel like I’ve done a lot and yet done nothing at the same time. Last weekend I went to one of my program director’s home, which was about 45 minutes outside Nairobi. He comes from a traditional Maasai family therefore we met his mother and his father’s other two wives. We at lots of goat meat and hung out with cows. We joked about how often one gets to hang out with a polygamist Maasai family watching them make their incredible beaded jewelry, eating their tasty food.
One of my friends here, Jake, lives with a woman who runs her own makeshift orphanage and on Saturdays we go and help out. The children are amazing and all they want is to be held and loved, even the older kids who are about 12-years-old. My arm hair was like the most fascinating, enjoyable thing for them and they would nuzzle into it, often rubbing their cheeks against it. It was cute and we had lots of fun with them.
So classes are both interesting and agonizing. Interesting because the teachers are charismatic and great storytellers. Agonizing because we’re really not learning much and each class lasts two hours. One class is called Development and another class is called Country Analysis and each professor says the exact same thing. But the country analysis professor uses great metaphors that paint pictures rather than provoke though, still they are entertaining and priceless nonetheless. We have Kiswahili for about 4 hours every day and as much as it is, I still find it interesting. I try practicing it at home, but have yet to really use it outside of the house. We have three teachers that rotate every day and one of them, Omanga, is beautiful and a joy to make smile, which means I purposely make mistakes so that he’ll laugh at me. Little does he know I knew the right answer and got the last laugh.
My family is fine, not great, not bad, just fine. I have some problems with how they reprimand their children- corporal punishment- and their lack of involvement in their children’s lives, which leads to them acting up and finding ways to pester me. This morning Adrian thought it would be funny to repeatedly spit his ndizi (banana) at me. Even if I tried punishing him it would not work because he a) doesn’t care and b) doesn’t speak any English. I’m supposed to stay with my family the whole time I’m here because my internship is based in Nairobi, but I wanted to use this weekend to make my decision about switching because lately I’ve just felt very uncomfortable at home. My family doesn’t seem to care about me much, unless we’re out drinking, and this weekend they went out of town without telling me. They left me alone with the kids and house-help, which was fine except it would have been nice to know. Because of that I want to look into switching to this family that lives close to my internship. The girl who lives with them now will be doing her internship somewhere rural, which would free up space for me. Who knows what will happen though. I’m optimistic and happy about everything else.
I’m interning for this organization called Hot Sun Foundation that Jake informed me about. Side note: Jake is one of the coolest, nicest, smartest people I’ve ever met AND he’s gay and goes to Madison, which means we’re instant best friends, duh! Anyway HSF is in Kibera, the large slum anyone who’s ever been to Nairobi should know about, and they’re a non-profit that does a few really cool things. One, they show movies on a huge screen that’s set up in Kibera every two weeks, keeping kids safe and out of trouble, while being entertained and educated. Two, they’re making the first ever feature-length film written by, directed by and starring people living in a slum. I’m involved with the movie by doing casting right now, but my main endeavor is this project called Stories from Kibera. It’s an oral-tradition story-telling competition for residents ages 15-23. The theme is reconciliation based on the election violence last year and professors and students from the University of Nairobi theater department have agreed to come in and train the three finalists that will then perform for all of Kibera. It will sort of be like American Idol where there will be judges, but then residents will also get to vote as well. I’m really excited about it and it’s also sort of fate because a grad student who TAs for J 202 is involved with HSF. Look them up at hotsunfoundation.org and check out the video clips they already have. The organization started when Nathan Collet, the co-founder, shot a 13 minute story about a boy living in Kibera, called Kibera Kid. The short film took off and won all sorts of awards world-wide and then he moved back to Kibera and started HSF.
Ok that’s all I can think to write as of now. I’ll update this from time to time, but internet is hard to come by and very iffy. Hope everyone is doing well and I send my love!
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
Monday, February 2, 2009
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Another good joke from him:
Before you read the joke, which was a forwarded email that he sent me, you must know what a Matatu is. It is a minibus that serves as public transportation. The drivers are CRAZY and make up their own rules. Enjoy!
A Priest dies and waits in line at the Gates of Heaven. Just ahead of him is a guy in casual Jeans and T-Shirt. The Angel addresses this guy, "Who are you, so that I may know whether or not to admit you to Heaven?" The guy replies, "I'm Mukuria wa Mwaniki, a Matatu (Mini Bus) driver from Nairobi .
"The Angel consults his list, smiles and says to Mukuria, "Enter into the Paradise ." So the Kenyan Matatu driver enters Heaven and the Priest is now next in line.
Without being asked, he proclaims, "I am Father Alphonse Kamande of St.John Cathedral of Nairobi for the last 43 years.”The Angel once again consults his list and says, "I am sorry, you are on waiting list. You have to pass some tests before you get entry to the Kingdom of Heaven .
"The Priest says, "Just a minute. That man was a Matatu driver, and you issued him an instant entry. But I have to go through more tests. How can this be? "The Angel replies, "Father, I am sorry but up here, we go by results.. While you preached, people slept. While he drove, people prayed."
I know I said I'd NEVER do this...
Yet, here I've created one. It's too easy and a great way to stay in touch. Eff off if you're rolling your eyes!
So here's what I know so far:
My host dad, Maina, goes by his baptism name of Francis and works as an auditor at the largest hospital in Kenya, Kenyatta National Hospital. His wife, Juliet, also works at the hospital, as a nurse. They have two "jovial and happy" children Natasha and Adrian. Natasha is 6-years-old and entering kindergarten and Adrian, a little boy, is 3-years-old and will start pre-school soon. I'll be living 10 minutes from school in housing set up by the hospital. Good to know I will be well tended to if I have health issues. They seem like a great family, and I'm very anxious to meet them. Other than that I am going into this pretty blind to what's going to happen. And so it begins...
So here's what I know so far:
My host dad, Maina, goes by his baptism name of Francis and works as an auditor at the largest hospital in Kenya, Kenyatta National Hospital. His wife, Juliet, also works at the hospital, as a nurse. They have two "jovial and happy" children Natasha and Adrian. Natasha is 6-years-old and entering kindergarten and Adrian, a little boy, is 3-years-old and will start pre-school soon. I'll be living 10 minutes from school in housing set up by the hospital. Good to know I will be well tended to if I have health issues. They seem like a great family, and I'm very anxious to meet them. Other than that I am going into this pretty blind to what's going to happen. And so it begins...
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