And the wind's that blow remind me...

...of what has been, and what can never be.

I am coming home. June 10th....almost 7 months early.

For those of you who know why, you were right and I should have come home immediately. For those that don't? Just understand that I wouldn't have ended this experience for anything that wasn't unbelievably serious.

But I still have 10 days...so let me tell you about Enoch. Enoch is a 13 year old who lives in Korogocho. He is the little kid who rapped for me my first day into the slums. Since then we have become fairly good friends. Yesterday I tramped around for a good half an hour looking for him through the informal settlement until I found his mother. She invited me into her home and we talked...and I remember why I came. His father was murdered, his mother makes almost no money selling beads in the slums, and he takes care of his 3 younger siblings - and the kid still always has a smile for me. He and his friend found me yesterday to sing for me. I visited another 4 or so bedridden clients that all had smiles for me, that all were going to talk about my visit for days after I left.

Thats why I came to Kenya in the first place.

On a side note - I am fairly upset at leaving at this crucial time in my medical career. The clinic has decided to train me to be the new doctor (this is soooo illegal) so now I get to wear a lab coat and diagnose people (the doctor is always sitting there in case I mess up but still). They call me Dr. Muzungu. Its awesome.

"How do you like Kenya so far?"

I get this question constantly. That or:
"How do you find my country"
"What do you think of Kenya"
"Are you having a good time here"

Well people, here's your answer.

Step 1: I'm still alive. Important.

I've been cheated, mugged, robbed, harassed, cornered, ogled, stalked and almost kidnapped. I've had to fight for everything - from fair matatu fares to reasonable street food prices. I've been touched by men, women and children that I did not know merely because of my skin color. I've argued tirelessly, defending my culture and my way of life because of the ignorance I've encountered. I've ignored countless come ons, insults, careless comments, invasions of personal space and obviously rude treatment.

I came with such an optimism, truly believing that I could make a difference. And I have realized that the people here do not even care enough for one another to help. The vast majority of Kenyan's themselves are not doing anything. What, honestly, am I doing here?

And yet, I stay. I stay for the people I work with - the few who do not look at this as just a job, a meal ticket. Those to which I am bound with that same blinding optimism that we can do something and are doing something. I stay for the people who truly appreciate the tiny amount that I have been able to do. I stay, in part, to prove Seancy wrong - that a single person can change the world. Only a fraction, only a tiny bit - but its still impact. In a lot of ways, I stay out of sheer stubbornness (those that know me know this is true). I've seen some of the most beautiful things, and made friendships that I know are never going to end. I've met people that inspire me to be a better person.

And that, is the answer to your question.

Mama said there'd be days like this

It's been quite the weekend. After a crrrrazy party Friday night at the YES house (thanks Shanky/Charlotte/Florent), I was on my way back into town when my camera got stolen out of my bag on a matatu. It blows, yeah. I liked that camera, I waited for years to finally get a digital camera, etc. but what i am MORE upset about is the fact that I lost all of those pictures. A lot of them were on my computer but a lot were not, and I can't get those back. Ever. A man stopped me and said "I think that man took something from you, I saw him". I talked to the mat conductor, asking where the man had gone. A crowd of like 20 men surrounded me, yelling what had happened, saying they should get him. Then they turned on the man who had warned me about it, yelling at him for not stopping the man. It was kind of scary. Either way, its gone. Sorry YES kids, all the pics from your first (and possibly only) party are lost. To top it off, he will sell it for 20 dollars, some idiot will buy it, use it, and after a week, will throw it away because the battery is one that you plug in. And I still have the plug.



After a rough night last night (check my facebook profile I guess), I woke up and took a shower. As I was getting out, the mother of the girl I am living with said she wished she could wash her hair and not have to get it blow dried. She then proceeded to say this: "I just don't understand why God favored you. He gave you the right hair, the right color, all the money...It's not fair!!" After I tried to reason with her, saying something like our hair is just different not better, she got angry and stomped off. Awesome.

The worst part about the past few days is the baby I wrote about in my last blog, the 6-month-old infant who weighed almost nothing, died on Saturday. The child that I held and fed and played with is no longer alive. Completely innocent...it just really depressed me when I heard this morning.