Sleepover at Momma's House

(Momma's min by moonlight)


Ani inam Dubsahay. I'm a lady of Dubsahay.

Alicia and I, as mentioned before, have been adopted by a magnificent woman called Nareyo Chawle of this same clan. She is pretty traditional: still lives out in the goob, wears beads, speaks no English, but that's no hindrance on all us girls' relationship with her. We love spending time with her in any capacity, and so why not spend the night at her place.

Thank goodness it's the Dakhnaan ("light nights" - when the moon is full and bright enough to cast your shadow at midnight) because we didn't start the 2o minute walk out to Goob Soriyon until about 9 pm. We used torches only to avoid scorpions, but the path was perfectly visible, and the breeze was lovely. Job and Johnathan were the warriors assigned to our escort, although to be completely honest, they're about 30 pounds lighter than us, and had no weapons at their disposal. I guess if we had to negotiate ourselves out of something, their language skills would be useful.

We came into the goob along with the goats, so our arrival was somewhat overshadowed by all the herding, milking, and greeting of warriors that needed to be done. We entertained ourselves, however, chatting with our brothers and sisters on the animal skins and taking photos of the clearest moon you've ever seen. At some point my Hamado, my niece, so to speak, sat bolt-upright out of her sleep and threw up all over the skins and blanket. Bless her heart, only a few minutes later she was up chatting with us.

(Burro, one of our cousins, I think)

When Momma was finally finished chatting with some warriors, she graciously made us chai and and ugali/goat's milk porridge. As it was 11:30 in the evening, I wasn't much hungry, but she said she wanted to show us how she ate, so I was flattered for the window into her life.

Around midnight, when us girls were fading, literally everyone in the goob was still very much awake. How these people manage staying up so late and then wake up so early is beyond me. Even though our droopy eyes got some laughs, Momma had a fancy mosquito net set up for us, and we lay down on our soft cow skins. I didn't sleep well, but not for lack of comfort, just because I had nightmares for some reason. And, at one point, Alicia thought she had been stung by a scorpion which turned out to be a tiny black spider that packed a punch.

(Morning chai in Mom's min)

In the morning, around 5:30 everyone was up and about milking the goats again. Momma asked if we were scared of them, but it wasn't that I was scared, just entirely unsure of how to milk one of those things! So I made myself useful by picking up the cute babies and occasionally attempting to keep everyone in the sum (corral).

(Alicia and my sister Lari taking laundry down in the morning)

After chai, we hiked back home to rinse off the dirt and smoke, and head off to a long sermon at church, which is rough after 5 hours of sleep... But distinctly contented having spent the night at home.

(Mom, her son Kinesasan, and her granddaughter Hamado)

My Abaya is Cooler Than Your Abaya

Meet Abaya Esymbasele, our other night guard. Abaya Bagajo, of family photo fame, works the first two weeks of the month, and then Abaya Esymbasele takes over. He's a good man; stays up late to watch over us, removes the acacia branches from my running path in the yard, makes the odd dry joke, and is just generally a kind and assuring presence at our house.



But I've learned not to let his gentle nature fool me into thinking he's got no sassafras. Abaya Esymbasele wears a ball cap with 1980s polarized sunglasses built into it and he owns two pink and purple patterned kikois. He's furthermore got an affinity for all things comfortable and has currently dragged Jamie's old bed frame out into the middle of the yard, placed his mattress on it, and is sleeping out under the stars... 3 feet above the dirt.

Little Blue Pill

Was it The Matrix or Through the Looking Glass/Alice in Wonderland where there was a choice offered between a blue and a red pill? I seem to always get my classics mixed up...

Regardless, if you are ever offered the choice between a blue and red pill, I unequivocally assure you to chose the red pill.

Nothing could be more caustic, more offensive to the human body, more complicated to administer than the blue pill. There is not a day that goes by that I don't dread swallowing that thing with at least 8 oz. of water, nor one where I don't worry that my stomach is not full enough to cope with the chemicals contained in the capsule. Not only this, but I have to plan my Women's-Once-In-A-While regime around this darn thing!


Doxycycline. I hate it. Twice now has it ruined a perfectly good morning. When I first arrived in Kenya and was staying in Nairobi, I was super serious about taking the blue pill once a day. When I forgot to dose myself during a meal one day, I figured I could nibble on some caramel popcorn and call it good. Alas, it all came back to bite me in the bum, and now I'll never be able to eat caramel popcorn again, which is a tragedy. And then just this morning, to add injury to insult (the loss of an appetite for caramel popcorn is, in fact, a serious insult), I woke up with searing heartburn or acid reflux from taking my doxy too late the previous evening. I'm not personally a doctor, but WebMD tells me I have esophagitis caused by the blue pill getting stuck in my esophagus and causing serious irritation of the esophageal lining. For heaven's sake! It's Saturday! The only morning I have to myself, and I begin it at 4:30 AM sucking down tea with Tylenol ground up into a fine powder floating around.

I'm beginning to wonder if malaria once a year would be better than this doxy situation...

First Person Perceptions of the Third Person Impressions

Now that they're back home in California, you should ask Mom and Dad about their experiences in Korr, Kenya. Ask to see all their pictures. Ask to hear Mom's stories about teaching African students. Especially ask to have Dad put on his kikoi. However, until you get the chance to hear/see these things first hand, here's what I believe they must have thought while with me here.

(Above: Mom and her Form 2 students)

Mom: "I feel uncomfortable wearing pants off the plane, especially considering that the girls say they always wear ankle length skirts. Oh, blast. I shouldn't say 'pants;' it means 'underwear' here."

Dad: "Oh, good thing I got the supersonic eternity zoom lens for the camera!"

Mom: "This reminds me of Claire's college house. I am going to have to clean this whole place. Not only is there dust everywhere but some of these dishtowels smell like bug spray."

Dad: "Abaya is looking at me funny. Maybe it's because he thinks I'm currently the one in the T.V." ('Father of the Bride' movie night. True story.)

Mom: "Thank heavens my microscope survived the trip!"

Dad: "How am I supposed to sleep with the Mosque going off at 5:30 in the morning?!"

Mom: "These kids' level of biology knowledge is incredible! And they love school!"

Dad: "I count it a successful day when I fix a deep freezer."

Mom: "Oh, this place is sooo much nicer than Nairobi."

Dad: "I'm not sure what I think about popcorn every night for dinner with the girls, but at least Lynne feeds us good on Sundays."

Mom: "I'm fairly impressed with the girls' ability to bake their own bread."



Dad: "I'm no teacher, but I'll blast back to the late 70s to recall my college physics."

Mom: "Wow! I've never had a sheep dissection this fresh before!"

And I can pretty much guarantee you that Mom and Dad both thought, "I can see why Claire loves it here."




They were great. I knew it would be a good experience, but to have them connect so well with the people and the town was not something I could have planned for. Mom worked night and day to prepare to show these kids what "we've only ever read about before! Madame, now we actually know what it looks like!" Dad also ran around town quite a bit fixing Daniel's solar panels, Pastor David's faulty computer screen, and Nick's internet router, and then threw in some time at school.

It's important to share a special thing with family. How invaluable it is to have someone come along and experience a life changing event with you. Mom and Dad now have met the people I have, seen the place I live in, and also gotten too attached to my students. They've been adopted into the culture with their Rendille friends and even names - Mom is Yeryero and Dad is Korrewaa - in the same way I have. When I go home, all three of us will be able to tell, "Remember that one time?" stories, and that is, I believe, a very special thing.

(Below: Mom and Dad with my adoptive brother, Somo)

Watermelon Seeds

It's a little known fact that watermelon plants can actually grow in the desert. It seems contrary to the nature of a desert to allow for any sort of agriculture, let alone that of such a turgid fruit, but surprise, surprise!

Following my offer of a small plot of land to one of my students, John (you may remember him as "Job"), we decided to plant the new watermelon seeds I had imported from Nairobi. The package says 10-14 days for germination, so let the countdown begin!

However, I must admit my slight anxiety over how these seeds will have to struggle to sprout, let alone produce fruit. There are these terrible ants that will eat just about everything green if they burrow their nasty little selves into the shamba, and we have to worry about the nutrient-poor sand we've planted in. I'm very proud and committed to our garden, but at some point reality must be addressed.

And so, as I've been thinking how to bring up this next topic, a metaphor based on these watermelon seeds comes to mind.

Our school, Tirrim Secondary, is in serious financial trouble. As it's a free school for poor nomads, we don't have many tuition funds to draw from, nor do we have many large donors. Maintenance costs of the school are exorbitant compared to the money we have available, and unfortunately this discrepancy has caught up with us. Without God's grace and mercy, the school may have to be closed at the end of the term in July. I'm not worried about me at all; I'll find other ways to serve the Rendille. But the national teachers, and the kids... I can't imagine how their hearts will be broken learning that their school days are over as there really aren't other options for the sons and daughters of poor herders. They've worked so hard already, and what they've learned to this point will serve them well, but one of my greatest desires is to give them the opportunity to keep learning.

My T.S.S. students are like my watermelon seeds. Full of awesome potential, but rooted in a volatile place. If things go well, it's astounding and beautiful. If things don't go well... there's no where else really to go. I've tried my best to put these kids in fertile soil; literally given them food and water, as well as knowledge, love, and support, but that's where everyone's human abilities end and God takes over.

I don't know anyone who prays for their garden seeds, and quite frankly, I think that's weird. But I know tons of people who pray for impoverished children all over the world, especially in remote desert lands. If you would please pray for the funding to come into T.S.S. we would all be so very grateful.

I realize we can't contend with the course of nature, but I believe in a God who can.

Kids Say the Darnest Things

Because I'm their English teacher and get to read their journals each week, I've had the privilege of reading some highly entertaining lines. Because I'm their friend and get to have lovely chats with them each day, I've heard some hilarious comments come out of their mouths. Here are some of my top picks, in the original vernacular:

Joseph Obeile: "The only funny thing in my childhood is about my circumcision."

Yussaf Lerapo: "She runs to buy some sweets from the shop. On the way she losts my money. Suddenly I punish her."

Joshua Leeba: "At day time people were many and it seems life Americans voting for Obama during election."

David Chudugle (adapted from a Swahili proverb): "Don't mind my English which was born in England and came by boat to Africa, died in Africa, buried in Kenya, and the coffin made from Korr."

Jeremiah Ilbilich: "At the moment she as happy as a barren woman who had delivered a shubby son."

Jonathan Mirgichan: "Madame how about you pick a few students to stay at your house with you, and then at the end of the week you can pick one of them to take to Nairobi with you."

Joyce Amiyo: "Madame is being lazy with her dancing right now."

Naisayku Galimogle: "Madame why is your hair always messy? Here, this is how you look smart."

And finally, for variety, here is something from one of our teachers.

Mr. Abdey (the History teacher): "Claire tell your dad I want to work for him; I'll do anything to come to America. Besides, I'm a conservationist; a man of the people. I will work 28 hour days. I will work with minimal supervision. I'm an enthusiastic, eager, energetic, Kenyan job seeker."

School Cho

Somebody laid an egg in the cho.

The Holidays

There's something you should know about me; I'm one of those people who won't do something unless they can do it all the way. Therefore, I haven't been blogging because, quite frankly, I haven't had time to do justice to my adventures... Until now. So, for the long wait, I apologize. For the deeply meditated brilliance of the following blog, you're welcome.

Kenyan schools are on a year-round school year system: 3 months on, then 1 month off. April was my first "Summer Vacation" of the year and, let me tell you, my roommates and I certainly made the most of it. There wasn't a moment we weren't moving around the country, doing things most people only ever talk about.

(Above is some graffiti from Old Town Mombasa)

We began by driving off to Mombasa with fellow Short-Termers for our annual retreat. It's about a 7 hour drive from Nairobi to this beautiful coastal town, but well worth the effort, that is the effort of our drivers, not I, as I slept the whole way. Frequent stops at "squat pots" with no toilet paper and inadvertently waking up with my lethargic head too close to Alicia's face make up most of my memories of the drive. But upon arrival in Mombasa, I took it all in; palm trees, bathtub warm water in both the pool and ocean, food already prepared and ready to be served, humidity, monkeys, and yes, bathing suits! It's a funny thing coming from a place like Korr to a place like Mombasa, which is an absolute tropical paradise. What do you do with yourself in those first few hours?! Of course buy an aquamarine Speedo one-piece and go sit in the Indian Ocean for a good hour soaking in the sea breezes. The next few days alternated between buffet meals, devotions and presentations with the other Short Termers, shopping trips in Old Town, and hanging out on the beach-side lounge chairs.

(Below: Nope, I don't think I'll ask for a car wash here.)

(Alicia and I doing what we do.)

One afternoon some of the girls and I decided to take a walk along the beach over to a very fancy hotel that turned out to be some private apartments. Disappointed by the lack of cold Cokes for sale, we turned back towards our own hotel. However, instead of walking all the way back, we decided it might be nicer to swim in the shallows. 1 hour and 15 minutes later, exhausted from doggy paddling and trying not to step down into some ominous looking kelp beds, we arrived back at Milele beach.

(Me being happy underneath the glass of "Happy Times: the Glass Bottom Boat)

The following day all those on retreat went out for a snorkeling expedition on the "Happy Times" glass bottom boat, and a "happy time" it was. I was able to avoid touching/getting close to any fish, as they terrify me, but did see some interesting ones from afar and even a couple of sting rays. I am also proud to report that I did hold a giant sea urchin in my hand at one point. So we paddled around for a while, fed the fish, I made up a synchronized swim performance with Jamie, and we all got some fairly impressive equatorial sunburns.

Moving on from Mombasa, we spent some good times with our other missionary friends, Dana, Andrew, Kate, Ryan, and Meghan in Nairobi. I won't deceive you friends, family, and supporters; we got Java House coffee nearly every day. The life of a missionary has its perks. We also went to the movies to see "Blindside" with Sandra Bullock which was absolutely brilliant and we've been quoting lines ever since.

Jamie, Alicia, Ruth, and I then found ourselves leaving on the 6 AM jetplane for Kampala, Uganda. For two days we wondered around the capital city, enjoying the rain forest vistas, the precious angel Luke whose mother ran the guesthouse, and several trips to the craft fair downtown. Momma would have had a fit if she saw, but my favorite Ugandan cosmopolitan adventure was the boda boda rides, experienced on the back of a scooter with an extended backseat. They're a much more efficient way to avoid traffic as you're able to weave in and out of matatus, but they're also highly entertaining as every time the driver shifted gears, my face tended to hit the back of his helmet.

(Below is a picture of Victor Victoria: The Monster of Lake Victoria)

However, Kampala wasn't our ultimate destination, and we hopped on a party bus (literally with a chandelier hanging from the ceiling and hieroglyphic motifs on the floor boards) to Jinga where we had a rafting date with the River Nile.

Upon arrival we suited up in helmets and life jackets, ate some bananas (which led to our team name: "Team Banana") and met our crazy river guides: Paul the Ugandan Trainee and Lee the Attractive Scotsman. What follows is a series of events and impressions which have somewhat blurred in my mind...

(Above, near the headwaters of the River Nile.)

* On the first rapid, which, even to my untrained eye, was quite piddly, we were flipped out of the boat, and swept quite a distance down river. We were all surprised and slightly unnerved, but especially Ruth had "crazy eyes!" Upon looking at the pictures afterward, it was clear that Paul and Lee took nearly every opportunity to purposely overturn the raft.
* Someone assured me that the alligators don't live so near the headwaters of the Nile.
* Being underneath swirling, dark, noisy waters is not so scary if you keep reminding yourself, "I'll come up eventually. Besides, no one has ever died doing this... yet."
* At some point I tried so hard to pull myself back into the raft that I split my shorts from zipper to mid-seam. Good thing I wore my bathing suit underneath.
* I must admit that I not-so-humbly told Lee and Paul that I was a strong rower from 4 years of Varsity crew, so I could handle the front seat. Wow, was I tired by the end of the day. Especially considering how often I shifted into sprint mode with Lee screaming at us all to "Row girls!!!!"
* I can now say that I have experienced sunburned knees.
* There was one point where, inexplicably, with barely a ripple around us, Jamie's whole body flew up in the air and then landed right back in her seat. She must have hit a Jamie shaped Class 6 rapid.
* There is evidently a rapid called, please forgive the language, "Satan's Sphincter"
* Alicia saved my life that day. We both got tossed from the raft on the last, and most notorious rapid, and she pulled my water-logged self from the torrential current, with one hand.

(I'm front right, about to get tossed out.)

Exhausted we headed back to our Jinga base camp, ate a pizza, and passed out in our safari tent promptly at 9 pm. It was some of the most fun I've ever had, and I would do it again in a heartbeat.

Then Mom and Dad arrived in Kenya for a week and some of safari-ing. First us girls and parents went off to the Masai Mara, one of the most famous game parks in Kenya. (Actually the Kenyan side of the Serengeti.) We saw everything from elephant babies to cheetahs, hippos and girrafes, Mufasas and little Simbas, and hundreds of the most ridiculous bird in existence; the guinea foul. I was pleasantly surprised by the resemblance between the rolling hills of the Mara and those of Northern California, and was stopped from taking a nostalgic walk only by the fact that lions sat not 100 yards outside of the gate of the lodge.

(Below: Jamie and I getting too close to the hippos)

Between sunrise and sunset game drives the girls and I took luxurious naps, did Jamie's water aerobics workouts in the pool, made friends with the staff, stole drink coasters, and played badminton with a Masai warrior (who promptly beat us twice in a row.)

From there Mom, Dad, and I took a family vacation out to Amboseli National Park at the base of Mt. Kilimanjaro, one of the most stunning mountains I've ever seen. It sits starkly contrasted with the wide open plains of the area, and creates a magnificent backdrop for the dozens of herds of elephants. Kili looks deceptively accessible from the ground; you can see the snow-capped peak easily, and the slopes seem to climb at a gradual 40 degree angle. It's tempting to just walk over the border into Tanzania and start hiking, until Mr. Jenga tells you it would takes about 5 days to climb up to the top. Maybe next time.

And so we took our twice-daily drives around the small park, spying literally hundreds of elephants, flamingos, a hideous baby warthog, zebras, and even a monitor lizard. Perhaps my favorite piece of Amboseli wildlife, however, were the monkeys, who look quite charming until they start stealing your candy off your lounge chair. Fascinating fact, actually, these monkeys know they have to take the plastic wrapper off candy... In between animal sightings, Mom and I did laps in the pool and I got Kenyatta the Masai guard to teach me how to use his slingshot which is usually for warding off pesky baboons.

(Becoming an ace with the sling-shot.)

We made friends with the staff at Ol Tukai as well; Rachel the manager, Kenyatta (Who gave me beads at the end of my stay and informed me he only had one wife. So is that some sort of new Facebook status?)), and Jemimah the grill lady... On our final night these wonderful people sang us my favorite Kenyan song, "Jambo Bwana" and presented our family with a delicious two-layer cake with the word "Kwaheri" ("Goodbye") written in chocolate frosting.

And so with our April Summer Vacation behind us, myself, Mom and Dad, Ruth, and Alicia had to say goodbye to Jamie as she headed back to the States and we all trekked back up north to the town and the people I missed dearly.