Living is easy with eyes closed

misunderstanding all you see...

I hope people are noticing that almost all of the titles of my blog posts are song lyrics. Carbon Leaf, Matt Nathanson and now the Beatles are the reigning bands used.

It has been a quiet few days at work. I have been in the clinic all week due to some unrest. There is a group of people (a mob, essentially, organized crime) that are causing a lot of problems. Known as the mungiki, they like to chop people to pieces and yesterday set a market on fire as well as burned a bus that had two children in it. While I live in a relatively safe area, transportation has been weird (all matatu drives pay the mungiki) and quite a few of our employees live in the areas that are being badly effected. It is also way too dangerous to go out to the field, so here I am.



I feel like I misunderstood quite a bit about Kenya when I first arrived. While this is to be expected, its almost like I am learning things all over again. I think in a lot of ways this separates a traveler from someone who has come to a country to put down some kind of roots. I am used to the fast paced backpacking way of travel; 2 nights in a city max, constantly moving and seeing new things. It is weird to me to remind myself that yes, I do need down time, and its fine if I just want to go home, sit and play spider solitaire. I will never fit in; I am in no way mistaken for a Kenyan. But I'm relearning what I misunderstood and getting used to the way of life here (to an extent. some things will always be foreign)


My Kenyan family/the AIESECers I have been hanging out with gave me a Kenyan name: Wacera (pronounced wah-share-uh). It is a Kikuyu word meaning one that likes to travel. Pretty fitting.

I also went to my first Kenyan club this weekend. That was...interesting. Being the only real white person there, I was pretty much not left alone the whole night. The idea of personal space is often ignored, and luckily I made friends with the security guy at the front and he kept most people from touching me too much. The focus of their attention? Surprisingly, my hair. I was wearing it down and its gotten fairly long, and people just wanted to stroke it. I allow the kids in the slums to do this all the time (I end up very dirty but it makes them so happy) but I couldn't bring myself to allow a room full of older men to do it. Overall, I think I am happier sticking to a more quiet venue to socialize and drink, but at least I tried it.