A Day in the Life (Part II)

Hmm...where did I leave off. I think it was on the way to school. Well, first off, I'm one of the lucky ones here because I only live about a 15-minute walk from the University. But even so, it's definitely not like walking to class down State Street. I'd say it's an exercise in alertness. My first and foremost objective is to not get hit by cars. The clean cut boundary between side walk and street back home is not so revered here. In Kenya, these are the rules most drivers seem to follow: if you can get there quicker by jumping the sidewalk, jump the sidewalk. If there's open road whatsoever in front of you, slam on the gas. And if there's pedestrians... well, they better get out of your way. At the same time as watching for cars, however, you also have to manuever the rocks and potholes and gravel beneath you. And then, of course, there's not running into people. I think it's pretty safe to say that on any given street at any given time of day, there are plenty of pedestrians. And pedestrians who walk on the left side of the road, not the right. As for crossing the street...it's pretty much luck of the draw. The funny thing is that while we Americans are often just struggling to stay afoot in our jeans and t-shirts and thick-soled sandals, many of the Kenyans around us are simply strolling along in their freshly pressed suits, shiny dress shoes, and for women, heels! I don't know how they do it.
Ok, enough about the walk to school. Classes so far are good - there's Kiswahili, Country Analysis (Kenyan politics, economy, etc.) and Development. I'm really liking all the professors, and I'm definitely learning a lot too. The only complaint I have is that classes are long. They're in two-hour blocks, and we have three each day, but often they've doubled up Kiswahili so that we have four hours of it in a day. The nice thing is, Kenyans love their chai. Classes start at 8:30 and at 10:30 we have a break for chai. Then we have another two hours before lunch, when we usually run (literally) in small groups to nearby restaurants and quickly gobble down some food. We've been able to find some good stuff, and even some that slightly resembles food back home. I never thought that after only a couple weeks I'd miss ketchup (not pink, runny "tomato sauce") so much. And salt. And pretty much anything other than curry and rice. My family is pretty traditional in their food, so our meals are generally predictable. Either rice or ugali (a doughy substance that is in dire need of salt), cooked cabbage or kale/spinach/lots of curry flavoring, and some kind of meat or bean stew. It's not that it's terrible...it's just that once a day is enough for me. Let's just say I've made lunch my big meal of the day.
After class we've got a couple hours until sunset, so we usually find some type of adventure. Whether it's wandering downtown, exploring the neighborhood, or meeting a new host family, this is usually my favorite part of the day. Then when the sun starts to set, we all part ways and settle into family life at home - which for me is extremely quiet. If my host mom beats me home, I can generally find her sprawled on the couch watching "Sebastian and Catellina" or some other beloved melodrama. If I'm lucky, she'll be watching the news. My host sister is usually either at the kitchen table or in our bedroom "doing homework"/surfing facebook on the house girl's phone. And the house girl is in the kitchen...working. Sometimes my host mom will be holding my host brother on the couch. I don't think I've mentioned him yet, but he's severly disabled. I wish I knew what his condition was, but the house girl doesn't even know and she's the one who takes care of him. And she says my host mom doesn't like to talk about it. He's six years old, but he can't walk, can't talk and can't even sit up by himself. I think he's pretty heavily medicated too, so that he doesn't have "convulsions," the house girl says, and often his eyes just roll to the back of his head. It's sad, but he's definitely well-loved. My host mom talks to him all the time in her cooing, yet somehow always booming voice. "How's my boy! How's my boy! Aren't you just the best boy in Kenya!" she'll say as she walks by him.
Dinner is a pretty casual affair. And it is also very late - around 8 or 8:30. When the food is ready, the house girl simply lays it on the table in insulated blue tupperwear containers, and we all serve ourselves as we please before taking a seat in front of the TV. There's occasional chatter, usually started by myself, but mostly it's pretty relaxed. Although I was slightly disappointed by the "family time" at first, I've found from talking to other students that my family seems to be pretty typical. Evidently, if a family in Nairobi can afford a TV, it often becomes a constant passtime. Even so, my family is very welcoming and hospitable and makes me feel at home. Plus, when I'm done eating, I'll generally keep the house girl company in the kitchen and we always have a good time. If there's one thing she does well, it's laugh. I'll tell you more about her some other time.
This weekend a few friends and I are hopping a bus (for about 7 hours) to Kisumu, by Lake Victoria. With a guide book, our backpacking backpacks, and somewhat comprehensible Kiswahili, we'll venture into unknown (to us, anyway) territory. No doubt there'll be good stories to tell you next week.
Until then!