Luoland

As of my last post, I was about to finally start my project with the CDC, as opposed to just playing secretary for the Secretary's visit. I have since conducted several successful interviews with CDC staff, volunteers, and patients; both in Kibera (Africa's largest urban slum) and around Kisumu (a small city on the shores of Lake Victoria). I was a bundle of nerves the first day I went into the field, but quickly realized the process is no different than what I was doing in Boston the last few months. Though the target populations are completely separate(in Boston I recruited and interviewed injection drug users for a research study; here I am collecting human interest stories from CDC staff and clients), I'm noticing a common thread: most people in this world just need to be listened to--but usually the people around them are too busy, too uncomfortable, or too judgmental. When you take the time to sit down, shut up, and fully devote your attention to another person, you will be shocked and amazed by the things they might share. When I get the go-ahead, I will post some of the incredible stories I've collected.

While the Secretary+delegates were here, I met and had lunch with Dr. Nils Daulaire, a serious global health heavyweight. His celebrity in my world is on par with Jeffrey Sachs; at the end of the day, however, he's also just another world traveling dad. He let me babble away for nearly 3 hours about my love of Kenya, Swahili, my experiences here, my life and career goals, etc. He told me about his kids, his career, and his travel stories. Oh, and like every father-figure I've ever had, Dr. Daulaire sports a great full beard. I left the Intercontinental Hotel that afternoon missing my own very beard-y dad like crazy. (Yes, Dad, I miss you. And now you have the proof in writing!)

I finally connected with some cool new mzungus here to do a bit of sight-seeing with. My Kenyan friends and family are usually too busy or too uninterested to join me for these mini-trips. So I latched onto the chance to visit Hell's Gate National Park in Naivasha with a fellow CDC-er. We took a matatu to a small camp with simple wooden huts about 5km from the park entrance, then rented bikes and headed over to the park. I was under the impression that it was a nice, leisurely ride through herds of zebra, families of warthogs, and possibly even giraffes. FALSE. It was anything but leisurely. We soldiered on, panting under the hot sun and then mildly panicking at the sight of mean storm clouds. Despite these setbacks, however, it was a pretty awesome ride. I then had the genius idea of biking all the way to the other gate, instead of retracing our steps back to the one we came through. Welllllll, I horribly miscalculated both the distance and the difficulty of this new path. In total, we ended up biking the equivalent of about 20 miles through some VERY hilly terrain. I could barely walk afterwards! But it was a beautiful ride, and the different route back took us through the geothermal power production areas, where we explored some very sulfurous, boiling hot rivers and saw the huge geothermal power plants.

The next morning we got up at 6am, very very early by my standards, in order to get an early start hiking Mt. Longonot, which is a small mountain in the rift valley with special significance to the Maasai. At 6:30am, however, I got the phone call telling me about Phil's tragic accident. (For those who don't know already, one of my best friends from Kenya, who married an American and then moved to the US with her 2 years ago, was killed in a terrible car crash 2 weeks ago in Wisconsin). Of course, once I had confirmed that it was true, I was a giant wreck. I immediately caught a matatu back to Nairobi instead of going on the hike.

Now, we have all always joked about matatus, calling them "death trap" and the like. But I have never actually had a huge problem in one that made me feel unsafe. Of course, immediately after hearing the news that Phil had died in a terrible crash, the matatu we took back to Nairobi suddenly blew a back tire and we almost careened into the median at 80mph. I closed my eyes and saw Phil's face and I thought, 'oh my god, I'm about to meet him'. 10 horrifying seconds later, however, we were safely pulled over and being ushered into a new vehicle. I proceeded to have a huge panic attack and couldn't get in. As I sobbed and hyperventilated on the side of the highway, my friend was kind enough to arrange for a taxi to take us the rest of the way back to Nairobi. At least in a taxi, I can control how fast the driver goes.

I spent Sunday and Monday in Nairobi, and on Tuesday caught a shuttle to Kisumu to be with Phil's family and help them with the burial arrangements in any way that I could. My bad luck with public transport continued, and the stupid speeding shuttle actually ran over a few sheep that had crossed the road at an inopportune time. The driver didn't even stop, and I watched horrified through the rear window as the spinning bodies receded into the distance. I spent the next several hours on that ride trying to chase away images of a fiery burning death in the Kenyan countryside. Needless to say, I despise all means of road transport right now.

The last 2 weeks since that horrible Sunday have been a blur. I spent several days in Kisumu assisting Phil's family and trying to help coordinate with Phil's wife in the US. I went back to Nairobi for a few days, and then returned to Kisumu this past Wednesday (this time using a very nice, safe bus). Phil's body arrived in Kisumu on Friday morning, there was a mass at the family's church here in town, and then everyone went up to the Onani's rural home near the Uganda border, where Phil was buried yesterday. I have to say, I did not like his send-off here. The way Phil's culture conducts funerals is very contradictory to our customs in the US, and I was surprised by my intense reaction to the proceedings. But at the very least, I am happy that he is now resting forever in his homeland. I feel sure that it's what he would have wanted.

Tonight I return to Nairobi to try and salvage my remaining 2 weeks in Kenya. I can't believe how little time is left, but I'm going to do everything I can to make the most of it. Until next time, dear friends.