Down To Business

While I normally do my best to reserve these blog posts for clean, wholesome, fanily oriented topics, appropriate brain food for the masses of school-aged fans to whom I serve as a pristine role model, there are certain less than refined topics which must be broached in order to provide an accurate picture of life here in Kenya. Today's topic just happens to be of just such a nature. Everyone in Kenya does it at some point, so we might as well talk about it. Even those with the will power of a saint (New Orleans based sporting teams excluded) and the stubbornness of a pickle jar lid find themselves unable to resist the urge to engage in this practice at some point. Some of my colleagues have been able to hold out for weeks after arriving in country while others have lasted mere minutes before succombing to their primal desires. In the end, everyone falls victim to the sick and inescapable laws laid out by mother nature, everyone has engaged shamelessly in this dirty practice. I'm referring, of course, to using the pit latrine, A.K.A. the choo.

A study in minimalism, the choo's simplistic layout most closely resembles that of a dark, vacant closet, bordered from below by a cement (though sometimes plastic, trampoline fabric, or other material) foundation that that separates the patron from a mine shaft-like earthen chute so deep, sightings of fiery hot magma swirling about the lowest recesses are not unheard of. The floor of the choo, arguably the most intricate part of it's design, is customarily graced by an opening ranging anywhere in size from a few millimeters to that of a large shoe (clown sizes excluded) for one to deliver their least precious of cargo. Immediately surrounding this portal to the underworld on either side are a set of elevated foot rests that leave the user unsure whether they should be focusing on the task at hand or preparing to run the 100 meter dash. These place markers may or may not have been placed with any consideration given to the human anatomy when deciding their position relative to the drop zone as near misses, slightly askew delivery, and flat out poor aim seem to be all too common problems associated with choo use.

Bats, rats, spiders, trolls, and countless other species of wildlife have been known to take up residence in both the upper and lower stories of this unexpectedly enticing plot of real estate, and the legitimate fear of an uninvited visitor rising up out of the foul depths of chooness midway through the main event prevent the user from becoming too relaxed, ensuring that proper position is maintained on the starting blocks at all times. A true test of knee strength, the standard choo comes unequipped with support bars, handgrips, or any other device that might assist one to rise out of the choo position. Rather, patrons are forced to rely on the sheer determination not to be stranded inside this fragrant vertical coffin to provide them with the strength to rise on cold, sensationless, blood deprived legs back to the standing position after completing the homework assigned by mother nature herself.

As unappealing as this joint straining, olfactory testing ordeal may sound to many readers, the most strongly voiced desire I've heard to date in my community has been for the immediate implementation of a widespread development scheme that would bring a choo to every homestead, school, and bowling alley. To imagine that many of the people I live and work with would like nothing more than to have the privilege of doing their business in one of these cold, heartless shanties suspended precariously over chasms that make the grand canyon look like a crack in the pavement. It's not difficult to imagine why someone would want to avoid entering into this forboding monolithic structrue at all costs, but to understand why someone would pine just for the opportunity to do so, perhaps that is the path toward a truly mutual understanding between myself and the people I came to serve.

Let's Eat!

Mealtime. As a person who abstains from eating animal products no part of the day brings more questions and uncertainty while travelling. "What comes in 'such and such'", "What's that brown stuff", "Will I have to eat a baby?", etc. The Peace Corps obviously takes these issues into consideration as diet questionnaires, follow-up questionnaires, and hard hitting interview questions are an integral part of the application process. Having gone through all of the worst case in my head prior to departure you can imagine my delight at landing in a village where eating meat is the exception rather than the norm. Lorenzo 1, Rest of the world 0.

Having been largely influenced by the international community, the cuisine in Kenya is quite diverse with all the variety of an 'All You Can Eat' buffet (without the intense morning after stomach cramping). While I'll undoubtedly forget to mention some key dietary cornerstone, I'll do my best to fill you in on some of the most common food stuffs one might encounter here.

Ugali: While staple foods can vary from region to region (millet, cassava, jujubees, etc.) one food is eaten in every corner (and the corners of those corners) of Kenya and may just be the food most closely tied to the culinary identity of East Africa: Ugali. Picture in your mind a food that has the appearance and texture of cream of wheat prepared with too little water. Made from maize flour, ugali is typically rolled up by hand into a ball just smaller than one Tiger Woods would typically swing a club at, and then used scoop up whatever dish has been lucky enough to be situated next to Kenya's chief staple on the plate of destiny. Greens, beans, fish, ice cream sandwiches, heck, even a second helping of ugali are just some of the companion foods perfect to be scoooped up and enjoyed with those white balls of deliciousness. A sweat inducing strength building workout to make, one need not wait for hunger to set in before cooking ugali as the upperarm workload required in the preparation of this dish is capable of arousing even the most stubborn of appetites (little known fact: 100% of Kenyan women are capable of cracking a coconut in the space between their forearm and bicep). Unfortunately, a moderate percentage of our cohort suffer from a bizarre genetic mutation, lacking the appropriate taste receptors which allow for appreciation of the deliciousness ugali is capable of producing. Yours truly does not fall into that category.

Rice: Of the strictly white variety.

Beans: Affirmative.

Arrowroot: This starchy potato-like has the unique ability to absorb any and all moisture within a 9 km radius the instant it enters one's mouth. Likely developed as a deterrent against herbivorous predators, this moisture sapping effect has been theorized to have been the underlying cause of every drought ever recorded in addition to being responsible for the progressive spread of the Sahara desert. It is this less than humble blogger's warning to you never to allow this substance anywhere near your mouth unless you have a very reliable water source nearby.

Blue Band Sandwich: A savory layer of margarine succulently spread between two hearty layers of white sandwich bread. Most often enjoyed at breakfast, may be double-, triple-, or quadruple-deckered to taste. Best served at room temperature.

Maandazi: Sopapillas.

Matoke: A dish made from cooked bananas that have a flavor and texture more similar to that of a potato than the sweet, monkey sustaining snack fruit Americans are used to. Needless to say, the banana splits here just aren't the same.

Chapati: Take a flour tortilla. Fry it. Chapati.

Kale: Coming from a place where the entirety of my food budget was planned around being able to afford this wonder food you can imagine my suprise to learn that kale is actually one of the lowest priced foods available in Kenya. In fact, the Kiswahili name for this leafy green, "sukuma wiki", which literally translates as "push the week", is an homage to it's affordability as addition of sukuma wiki into a culinary line-up is a tactic commonly used by Kenyan families to stretch the weekly budget while staving off the pangs of hunger. I've yet to meet a single Kenyan person who hasn't laughed at least a little bit when I explain that the budget stretching staple is one that which Americans often pay a hefty premium for.

Coconut: The closer one inches to the coast, the more coconut seems to find it's way into various dishes. Rice, beans, mustard, there's not a single thing edible that can't be improved with the addition of a little coconut. The juice of young coconuts (madafu) may be enjoyed as a drink while the meat of mature coconuts is typically grated and used to flavor various dishes.

Chai: A one-time subject of British colonial rule, many people here in Kenya still honor the twice daily tradition of tea (chai), which typically consists of either water, milk, or some mixture thereof, tea leaves, and enough sugar to send a humming bird into orbit.

Meat, etc.: I am undoubtedly the wrong person to ask about this one. What I can tell you is that, with the exception of communities living in relative proximity to a fishable body of water, frequent meat consumption is often prohibitively expensive for the inhabitants of many smaller villages, my own included. In addition to the standard beef, chicken, and goat, specialties in my area include caterpillars, crocodile, and panya choma (roasted rat).

Mealtime is serious business here in Kenya and one must plan their social schedule accordingly. If you are at someone's house around mealtime you are expected to eat (no matter how many lunches you've had) while if someone is at your house around mealtime they are expecting to be fed. Portion sizes can be a challenge for some of the volunteers as the concept of 'too much food on the plate' simply does not exist here while refusing food can quickly escalate into a diplomatic crisis. Likewise, the amount of food to eat (or not to eat) presents an equally fine line to be walked. Leaving a small amount of food on one's plate is considered a polite sign of fullness while cleaning one's plate...well...let's just say don't do it unless you plan on asking for seconds.

New Mailing Address

The internet giveth, then the internet decide to not worketh. The Kenya based chapter of my fan club has a new mailing address but technical difficulties have prevented me from updating the contact information in the side bar so please note that my most recent mailing address is as follows:

Lorenzo Nava PCV
P.O. Box 5905
80200
Malindi, Kenya

As before please read the mailing instructions posted on this site before licking the envelope, putting a stamp on your well wishes, and throwing your hopes and dreams into the unforgiving, parcel crushing talons of the international postage system. Please also bear in mind that, while I will be incredibly grateful for any hard copy fan mail that manages find its way to me, the post office if a few bumpy hours away from me and, as such, enail remains the fastest andmost reliable means of expressing your undying admiration.

Language Woes

Without a doubt, one of the most rewarding experiences one can have when immersing oneself in another culture is that magical feeling that comes after a successful person-to-person interaction in another language, and Kenya has plenty of them (languages that is). Though English and Kiswahili are the official spoken languages, Kenya is home to over 13 trillion (an unconfirmed estimate) different local and tribal dialects. From Kimasaai and Dholuo to Kigiriama and Kimeru these languages share one common feature...the smaller the number of people alive who speak the language the greater the amount of street cred a foreigner can earn by speaking said language. Hearts can be won and lifelong friendships formed instantly with timely greeting or salutaion if the language is obscure enough.

While effective two way communication may lay the foundation for a rich cross-cultural experience, sometimes it is the breakdown in communication that makes the experience. Though it may come as a surprise many of my most loyal readers, as near perfect as I am, even I make mistakes from time to time. But as I always say (starting now) if you're not making a complete fool of yourself then you're not trying. That said, I thought I would share one of my more foolish moments with you, my loyal, even when walking into the jaws of certain doom, fans.

This particular story takes place in late June as I'm sitting down to evening chai with my host father. A patient school teacher who speaks excellent English, my host father is a softspoken man who, understanding my need to learn Kiswahili, is always willing to provide a calm audience for me as I stumble through sentence after unintelligible sentence in the language. During the course of the evening's conversation my host father asks why I will be spending the upcoming Saturday night away from home. Now, the upcoming Sunday was going to be the 4th of July and our group of trainees, seeking to celebrate our nation's independence free from the tyranical rule of a 6:30 curfew, had rented out a local camping/training facility for just that purpose. In an attempt to explain the rationale for the weekend's festivities using my limited Kiswahili I explained to my host father, "We're going to celebrate because Sunday is uhara day in America" (those of you who know Kiswahili may already be laughing). As the words left my mouth a look of absolute bewilderment crept across the kindly teachers face as he understood exactly what I had just said but couldn't seem to fathom the idea that such a day would exist, much less that it would be a plausible reason for an entire nation to celebrate. Thinking that perhaps more explanation was needed and seeing an opportunity for cultural exchange I interjected, "Like Madaraka (responsibility) day", the day on which Kenya became a self governing nation. As I leaned bcack, casually sipping my tea and giving myself a seemingly well earned pat on the back for another successful language interaction my host father's face lit up like a freshly rear-ended Ford Pinto.."Uhuru day!" he said as he leaned forward, an 'ah ha' timbre resonating through his voice. It was at that moment I realized what I had just said and we both relaxed into elated laughter as I was now in on the joke. Kiswahili, like many languages, is very interesting in that one misplaced letter or mispronounced sound can change the entire meaning of a word, sentence, or national holiday. You see, 'uhuru' is the Kiswahili word for freedom while 'uhara' is Kiswahihi for diarrhea, or rather the abstract concept of diarrheaness. The types of festivities that flashed trough my terribly confused host father's head I have no idea.

A handful of other "almost, but not quite"'s:

-Malaria is a disease spread by dogs (mbu=mosquito, mbwa=dog)

-I would like a diseases Fanta please (machungwa=oranges, magonjwa=diseases)

-The door is locked? Let me call someone with a broom (ufunguo=key, ufagio=broom)

And my favorite runner up which was spoken not by me but rather by my colleague Megan, a veritable language powerhouse in her own right:
-Teacher: What is this book about?
Megan: Mamas.
Teacher: How do you know?
Megan (pointing to an illustration of a very obviously pregnant woman on the cover): Because the woman on the front has a big f@#* (tumbo=stomach...for the sake of Kiswahili speaking children who may be reading this right now I won't finish translating this one).