The Smiles

There is a first and a last for everything I suppose. This morning was my last three hour long African church service. As many times as I looked at my watch during the service, there’s this vibration and radiance of the building and praise I will definitely miss. Everything about those church services feels African. Today, I even wore my new African top. The service ended and Karen and I headed to her cell group meeting. Some of the members remembered me from my last visit; I was introduced to some others.

For lunch, Karen took me to a local chicken and fry place. I ordered the normal—fries and tomato sauce. We sat there for a while, talking and reminiscing on the time I spent in Kenya before she dropped me at icipe. When I got up to head to the car, I realized a young boy was standing behind me begging for change. I am unsure how long he was standing there. Wherever I go, there are constant reminders.

I waited for David to pick me up as we had planned on going to the Children’s Home this afternoon. David is typically good at keeping time, so when he didn’t arrive when he said he was going to I gave him a call. It seemed that he was having car trouble and did not come for over an hour. This time was good, however, as I needed to reevaluate my packing situation. David and Alex picked me up and we headed to Naivas to buy some sweets and biscuits for the children. We also bought bags of popcorn on our way out.

Same as my last experience, the children ran to the vehicle as soon as we pulled in. We got out shaking their hands. This time I actually knew how to greet them in Swahili. I think some of the youngest ones figured I understood Swahili because they continued to talk to me the rest of the afternoon, even though I had no clue what they were saying. We sat with the kids watching television for a while until we rallied them up to head to a local field. The group walked through unpaved pathways with sharp rocks. Most of the young children didn’t have shoes on their feet, unfazed by the gagged edges. In the field we found the kids using an old tire as a trampoline, jumping off and flipping. Some of the children were very talented and could flip over extremely high heights. I took out my camera, trying to snap as many pictures as possible. The children love having their pictures taken. I allowed the same girl who took pictures last time to take some more. She was so excited to be in charge and snapping shots. With the setting sun, we headed back to the house to serve the sweets we brought. David passed around sweets, playing a game with who could guess how many sweets were left. I handed out the packages of biscuits and juice was poured. The children played around, scarfing down their food. A young girl, maybe four, named Moxilla impressed me with her intelligence. She was saving all of her treats for later, making them last as long as possible. As I passed out the popcorn, she asked if she could have hers in the bag, realizing that way she would get more as her hands weren’t as large as the other children’s. Growing up under the circumstances the children do, most would expect them to not be as bright as they are. However, their intelligence is remarkable. We said our goodbyes and headed out. As I waved and took one last look at the children while pulling away, it was hard not to notice their smiles. Every single one of the children had smiles plastered on their faces. These children laugh and play as if they have everything they ever could have wanted—they don’t know any better. Knowing I fly home tomorrow, when I leave, the smiles of the children will remain with me far past my stay in Kenya. Their happiness is truly indescribable.

The Goodbye Luncheon

My flight left Mombasa early this morning. Nothing too exciting happened at the airport. My cab driver did try to charge me more for the week than what my calculations had shown. It’s a good thing I know my math. We also hit a large traffic jam on the way to the airport. I told the cab driver my flight time was earlier than it was just so I wouldn’t be late with the African time and all. Even with the allotted time, the driver insisted we needed to get there soon so drove on the edge of the road making for a very bumpy ride. We also received some dirty looks as we passed by. The security in the airport surprised me with their laid back attitudes. I walked through without any trouble and didn’t even remove my shoes or jacket. The man asked to look at my bag, unzipped it, and zipped the bag back up almost immediately. I am not sure if it is just my American instincts of high security, but it did seem like anyone could walk on the plane.

While sitting in the airport, I saw coverage of the Olympics playing. I could not believe it, because I definitely thought the opening ceremonies were tonight. I love the Olympics and to miss the opening ceremony. I will just have to find it online to watch. Soon the plane boarded and I was in Nairobi in no time. I met the lady with my name sign outside of baggage claim and she called a cab for me. When I got in the cab, the cab driver asked me how to get there. I panicked a little, having no idea how to get to icipe. There must have been some confusion, as the driver thought I lived in Kenya and he was planning on taking me to my house. Thankfully, the driver knew how to get to icipe. Room 1, the room I have lived in for the past two months, was taken by someone else so they gave me a room across the hall. The rooms look almost identical, other than the fact the new room seems to have gotten more wear. With all of my suitcases, I began unpacking and repacking, wondering how I was ever able to fit everything on the way here. It doesn’t help that throughout my stay I have purchased numerous souvenirs.

Later in the afternoon, Vivian picked me up for lunch at Susan’s house. Susan lives in a very nice community, and even though I thought we were running late, we were the first ones to arrive. We sat in a room with a beautiful hand painted African mural, sipping juice as we waited for the others to come. Fabian was the next to come and gave me a gift of a large picture of an elephant he had taken while out on one of his safaris. Soon Mercy, Sarah, and Karen joined. We conversed for a while. Susan let their puppy out for Damian, Vivian’s son to play with. Most of the guests were completely scared of the dog, practically running away from it. This was so interesting to me, as dogs, especially puppies, are loved and welcomed in the States. In Kenya, dogs roam the streets or are used as protection for homes. Many told me frightening stories of being chased by dogs, never to have liked them again. In the course of the afternoon I met one of Susan’s daughters. The other was at boarding school and her husband was at the Kenyan house in London for the Olympics. What a hard job.

Fish, rice, and other various meats were served for lunch. We ate in the backyard with a very nice arrangement. More people began to come, some of which I do not remember meeting in the past. The more the merrier. After our meal, we sat in the backyard until dark talking. Our initial discussion focused on what Americans thought of Kenyans and likewise. Of course we think of Kenyans as runners. I have been surprised to find that very few Kenyans actually enjoy running. They explained to me their thoughts on Americans—workaholics, over cautious of security, etc. These didn’t surprise me in the least bit, because with the differences in our cultures, these would be the most drastic ones. I never thought of this in the past, however, they were telling me how the United States doesn’t have a direct flights to and from Kenya. With all of our security measures, even in the airports, I can see why. The topic of conversation then turned to different scams people ran throughout the streets of Kenya and how many of my fellow colleagues were almost caught in the mist of them. People running those scams are very clever, to a point it’s scary. I’m glad I didn’t hear all of the stories I heard on my first week in Kenya, or else I probably never would have slept at night. When leaving, Susan was very generous and gave me the gift of a cloth (I can’t remember what it is called, but very African). Sarah, Mercy, and Karen also gave me some gifts as well.

I am not sure if I have talked about this in the past, but the hospitality Kenyans show is remarkable. From Susan having the goodbye luncheon today, to all the people I have met here, I have really been fortunate to be completely immersed and welcomed into a new culture. I think it hit me on my ride back to icipe of how much I am going to miss the people and the daily culture surrounding me. Tomorrow is my last full day in Kenya. In the final hours I spend, I plan to make the most of it—taking in the wonderful surroundings.

Let the Sun Shine Down

I have absolutely loved the sunny weather in Mombasa. The temperatures are not nearly as warm as they are currently in the States, but hot none the less. People say the sun is hotter at the equator, I’m not sure if I completely agree, but I do have a little sun burn that may prove the point. This morning I spent my time in the KMFRI offices. The first scientist I talked to this morning was Eddie, working in the socio-economics side of KMFRI. He told me about the methods used to survey local and rural villages. The methods KMFRI uses are very similar to the methods I worked with during my time on the CHIESA project at icipe. They are using questionnaires and focus group discussions to gather information on where people are fishing, how much they are fishing, the value of the fish they are catching, etc. Being knowledgeable in this subject due to my experience in Nairobi, it was nice to converse and ask questions over their analysis methods and what was done with the results. Eddie said supposedly the reports get sent to management and disseminated throughout the KMFRI organization to help other projects. Whether this happens or not is questionable. The second man I met with, Charles, is in charge of marine ecology and monitoring of the water quality in the area. Instead of using biology components to monitor the water quality, as I did in Kakamega, they use chemistry components to analyze the metal and hydrocarbon levels. Charles went on to explain the effects of biomagnification. Today was my last day at KMFRI. I learned a plethora of new knowledge which will be helpful in deciding paths for my future.

When working on my research report and going through some old blogs, I realized I had been spelling vial wrong in every post. I apologize. I also apologize for all of the typos I am finding throughout the posts.

I was given the afternoon off to enjoy the beautiful weather. After saying my goodbyes and thanking everyone who made my trip in Mombasa an enjoyable one, I headed to the beach for an afternoon of reading. Tonight at dinner I had to say my goodbyes to the mission team working around the Mombasa area. Ever since being in Kenya, I have realized how much more enjoyable meals are with people. I was very fortunate to meet a group of adults from Southern United States this week to eat dinner with. Although, most of them were at least twice my age their stories were very inspiration. Tonight at dinner, I was once again reminded of my mission here, as they told me stories about the poverty they found in the Bush—children drinking out of puddles, families eating the bones of the chicken, and the diseases running rampant. Although our missions for our stay in Kenya may be slightly different, we share a common goal of improving the lives of those we interact with.

Kenya Wildlife Service

The morning began much like the others in Mombasa. I woke up, got ready, went to breakfast, and was picked up by my cab driver. I was welcomed into the office, took my seat, and worked on miscellaneous tasks before Miriam arrived. When Miriam came she took me to a scientist in the Natural Products office who told me all about the program. As explained in an earlier blog, Natural Products is in charge of physical preservation and value of fish. Through different mechanisms, the program is working to decrease spoilage and help fishermen gain the greatest amount of income for the fish they catch. Many problems arise with rural fishermen. The boats they use are small and not equipped with proper storage for the fish they catch. Therefore, outreach programs of KMFRI are working to educate the fishermen on ways to decrease their spoilage. Such ways include gutting the fish before arriving to shore and using methods of handling approved by supermarkets to sell fish there. As of now, there is high demand for freshly caught fish. When there is not, however, the Natural Products team is working on different ways to keep the fish good for the longest time. This includes different ways to sundry the fish, usually involving solar panels and a greenhouse effect. Due to the humidity of the area, creating a greenhouse with the fish inside may not actually dry out the fish. For this reason, fans are usually inside of these units. The scientist told me how the fish populations near the shores are diminishing so they are encouraging fishermen to learn deep sea fishing. With declining populations, I inquired why fish farming wasn’t used. The scientist explained to me the infrastructure is not good in the rural communities so fish farms are hard to maintain. All of this relates back to food insecurity and how the problem is arising and prevalent throughout the area. It is good to know the government is investing in substantial research to help the people. I am not sure if the solutions are good, but they are solutions none the less.

In the afternoon Miriam took me for a visit at a local Kenya Wildlife Service office. I have used many of their services, with visiting their national parks and had always assumed they were run by the government. To my surprise, some of their funding comes from the government but a majority comes from outside donors. Some of which is my expensive park entry fees as a tourist. Without an official appointment, I was sent to some office to get an overview. Of all the offices I was sent to throughout the week, this was by far the most interesting. The man explained to me different monitoring programs Kenya had in their national parks. He showed me a recent experiment where cameras were set up to monitor the animals and record those spotted. Through this project, the researchers even identified a new type of shrew. They also caught poachers on camera. I’m not sure how exactly they will track them down from here, but this seems to be a step in the right direction. I had a look at the poacher pictures and got the chills looking straight into the eyes of one who had spotted the camera. The man also explained relocation of different elephants due to over population and elephants ruining local farmer’s crops. The task of relocating over two hundred elephants takes a very detailed plan. In respect to marine parks, I learned about their monitoring of the coral reefs and how different species act as indicator species. The hundreds of sea urchins spotted yesterday are attributed to the decline and over fishing of the trigger fish; the sights are now making sense.

On my way back to the hotel, I was approached by some locals, so I thought. I usually try not to interact with anyone on the street I am unfamiliar with or have not been introduced to. These people asked me if I was from London. Having been warned the other day not to tell people I am from the States, I simply said, “Yes,” with hopes that the people would leave me alone. When they responded, “We’re from there too, which part of London are you from?” I had realized I had backed myself into a hole. I’m not very good at lying to begin with, so I was almost at a loss of words. I stumbled for the right ones saying something about being from the central area. They looked confused. Then the lady asked me which zone I was from. I had to take a shot in the dark at this one; zones could be a number, color, or letter. Quickly making my decision I went with a number, and kept it low just in case there weren’t many. Somehow I had stumbled into the right trap because the lady responded, “Oh. We are from that zone as well, just on a visit in Kenya.” After that the family walked away from me, and I have never been more relieved to be left in my life. Lesson learned: do your research before lying about coming from a place you don’t.

In My Element

In Kenya my cell phone is not an object I check very often. I only use it when I need to get in touch with people, and rarely do people call or message me. If they do, I’m usually expecting it. I should probably start checking the cell phone more often because this morning there was a message from the night before on it, telling me that Miriam would pick me up over an hour earlier. It just so happened that I got up at the time she was here and waiting, except I didn’t realize this until almost an hour later when I received a phone call to my room. Oops. I rushed to get ready, literally throwing my hair up and grabbing any essentials for the day. I apologized, but I still feel bad. I wait around a lot for people in Africa, just because of the whole “African time”. I hate when people have to wait for me, however.

We set out, a little later than anticipated by Miriam, our first stop being the ferry crossing. The ferry connects the island of Mombasa to South Coast. There has not been a bridge built across so literally the only way to cross the strip of water is by the ferry. This means that everyone is jammed on one ferry. From cars and trucks to people, the ferry was packed. Watching the ferry unload before our eyes was remarkable, too. A flood of people come off of the ferry at once. The new port frequently used for transporting cargo, was visible on our ride. Miriam encouraged me to take pictures, and I got out my camera snapping away. While waiting to exit, she even encouraged me to snap some shots standing off to the side, letting other people pass us. Little did I know, these pictures would cause quite the fuss. While exiting with the mob of people, I felt someone tap my shoulder. Sometimes this happens in the streets, as people want to greet me with a, “Mzungu, how are you?” Therefore, whenever someone taps my shoulder I don’t usually turn my head. This same hand then reached across me and tapped Miriam. She turned, and I probably should have as well, because the hand belonged to a security officer. He asked us to come with him. We agreed. I don’t know what was said between the two of them because most was spoken in Kiswahili. I did notice a sign when walking saying photography was not allowed. Throughout my stay in Kenya, I have been very conscious of taking pictures when appropriate. I always ask before using my camera. Even Miriam must not have known this rule, as she was the one encouraging me to take pictures. I began to get a little worried my camera would be taken away or, worse yet, I would spend my day in a Kenyan police station. With some negotiation, however, Miriam asked me for 200 shillings and we paid the man off. I realized I was just contributing to the corrupt policies in the country, which bothered me. There was not anything else I could really do. The officer never requested I delete the photos or anything of that sort, making me further believe the policy is there just so officers can catch people and make money. Needless to say, this was a frightening start to my morning. Below you will find the 200 shilling pictures.

The drive to the Southern Coast to go snorkeling lasted over two hours. The scenery was not very exciting and with the large amount of sleep I receive here, I wasn’t very tired. Soon we arrived in Shimoni and were swamped by the locals, trying to sell us a day on their boat. The way business works here never fails to feel a little fishy (no pun intended) to me. A group comes up and tells you about the awesome adventure they have in store for you, saying their price is the best and so on. After this happens the person negotiates a fair price. Usually the salesperson will say, “I’ll give you a discount.” (Also known as, I will give you a fair price.) Miriam negotiated our price down and we shook hands with the salesman—deal made. Before we loaded the boat, I inquired about seeing the snorkeling gear they would provide us with. I was quite concerned the gear would be some stolen stuff off of a beach with scratched and foggy lenses. The gear ended up looking good so I told him all was okay. The man looked shocked I knew English. I don’t talk when Miriam is negotiating prices because I’m not good at that stuff so people sometimes think I don’t speak English.

From there we walked out to the pier and descended the stairs onto our boat for the day. The boat looked old and rickety. I kept thinking it would fill up with water any minute, but surprisingly, it didn’t. We cruised across the Indian Ocean to our first diving site. I think I have forgotten how great the ocean is and why I love it so much. With the wet ocean breeze on my face and the sweet salty smell, I reconnected. Within no time we were at our desired location. Miriam didn’t want to snorkel so it ended up just being me and the guide. I dove in and instantaneously felt at home, finally in my element.

We swam around many reefs, most of which looked healthy and vibrant. The colors of fish and the types are so hard to describe. In a small crevice below my guide pointed to an eel, bright purple in the sunlight. I don’t think I’ve ever seen an eel so big before. In other places, there were many parrotfish, some were huge, at least a foot long. We also ran across a bull fish, not beautiful but big. In other spots we saw puffer fish. In one area I swam through a full school of smaller fish, all of which had a blue/green tint and glittered. The guide would sometimes pick up animals off the sea floor. I held a living sea cucumber and conch shell. There were also clams littering the bottom. To show me their “magic” the guide would dive down and quickly touch them. Instantaneously they would snap. For the first time I saw hundreds of sea urchins, all with their spines sticking straight up, ready to puncture any foot that dare set down on the floor. There is something about the ocean, maybe the animals or just the cool water, I just love! After a while of swimming around, we stopped and called for the boat to come and pick us up. Once I got back into the boat, another guide asked if I wanted to see more. I did and dove back in at another location. The second swim wasn’t as nearly long or interesting. Many of the corals we looked at were far below the surface and hard to see.

Upon returning to the boat and drying off in the sun, Miriam and I boarded a smaller boat to the island where we would have lunch. Part of the deal with the price coming down was agreeing to have lunch on the island, boosting their tourism income. We climbed through the intertidal area and sat down at a beachside table. I was going to wash my hands in the bathroom until I was informed they didn’t have running water in there. If there wasn’t running water in the bathroom, I could only imagine how they were preparing the dishes for me. I settled with rinsing my hands in a bowl with water and flowers. The flowers were clearly picked from nearby trees. The place was trying way too hard, as many of the flowers were dead. Regardless of how clean I or the food I ate was, it tasted magnificent. Miriam and I ate fresh crab recently caught that morning, along with a freshly caught fish (bones and all). They also served coconut rice, cassava, chapatti, seaweed, and a tomato coconut sauce. Cassava is a white legume with a very starchy texture. It seems to be common in Kenya, but this was my first time having it. The chapatti was probably the best I have tasted since being in Kenya. Chapatti is similar to a tortilla. I don’t think it is something I would like in the States, but since being in Kenya I have grown accustomed to its taste. The coconut sauce and seaweed were very sweet and delicious. I had a hard time finishing my plate; everything was so good! For desert they served fresh bananas, coconut, and oranges. I was stuffed and impressed.

The guide took us around the small island. He explained about their water shortages and how they harnessed any rain they could into a large collecting tank. They irony of islands being surrounded by water and having water shortages always amazes me. We went to a local Coral Garden and Mangrove Board Walk run by some local women. The place was called Wasini Women Group Board Walk and their story is fascinating. This is a project funded by the United States and other organizations to not just build a board walk to attract tourists and empower the women living there, but to preserve the beauty and importance of the natural habitat. The coral garden was a completely new experience to me. The water levels in the area had declined hundreds of years ago leaving an area of corals exposed. The corals were mesmerizing in their own way. The arrangement and scattering seemed perfect and pristine. Walking through I didn’t know what the woman guide was saying, but I got the gist that this project was helping to sustain her family. In another area of the boardwalk, a mangrove forest surrounded us. There are nine different species of mangroves on the Kenyan coast. At one point my camera ran out of battery and I had to change it. While doing so, I dropped the battery cap. Immediately after it slipped out of my hands, I knew it was headed straight for the gap in the wooden planks. The cap fell straight down, landing in a puddle from the last high tide. I told Miriam, seeing if anything could be done. One of the young boys playing around us, immediately climbed down a pole, jumped through the corals and retrieved the cap. I gave him a high five and much thanks.

After our board walk and stroll around the island, we walked out to our boat and headed back to the pier we started at in the morning. After a long day of exploring, the long journey back felt nice.

Old Town Mombasa

This morning I learned as great as it is to sleep in a little, I should probably start going to breakfast a little bit earlier. By the time I had arrived, most of the food was cold and all of the tables were taken. I took a table out by the pool and was forced to find my own chair and silverware. I also learned there is no such thing as “silverware” in Kenya. Silverware is known as cutlery. Thankfully, the waitress eventually understood what I needed. No wonder no one was sitting out where I was; the chairs were soaking wet. I resorted to standing and eating. The cab driver informed me last night that he had another party to pick up at the airport so moved my time of pickup to a half hour earlier. I thought this would be fine and arrived at the office slightly early. As I was sitting outside of Miriam’s office waiting for her to arrive, a man whom I had met yesterday told me sitting in the library would be more comfortable and took me up there. If the view from the conference center wasn’t distracting enough, the view from the library was even better.

When Miriam came, she took me to a lab for a tour. I do not particularly remember which labs we visited, because the lady she dropped me with ended up taking me all over KMFRI. I saw research from sea grasses to fish productivity. I found the natural products lab interesting, as the people there were trying to devise ways for rural fishermen to preserve their caught fish for longer. One such way included a solar drier. After my tour, I headed back to Miriam’s office where I read while waiting for her to take me to town in the afternoon.

Our first stop in the Old Town area was Fort Jesus. Fort Jesus was built in 1593 (if I remember this correctly) by the Portuguese as a way of securing the port of Mombasa for exchange. After one-hundred fifty years, the Arabs conquered the fort. Two hundred years later, the British captured it, until Kenya gained independence. The fort is called Fort Jesus due to its form—from an aerial view, the fort looks like Jesus on the cross. As soon as we arrived at the fort, a tour guide immediately followed us in, wanting to show us around (and get paid of course). Miriam made sure we wouldn’t have to pay extra for this guide we found on the street. After much discussion, most of the time of which I stood staring blankly since they weren’t speaking in English, it was settled we would use a guide from the museum and this guide would show us around the Old Town area afterward. Our guide from the museum didn’t speak English very well and asked if I spoke any other languages. I told him I knew some French, but wasn’t very good. He didn’t speak French either so we were at a loss. Without any English brochures, he did give me one in French. The only problem is reading the brochure will be a challenge. As the guide showed us around the fort, we learned how 4,000 slaves were brought in to carve the fort out of coral and plaster over the walls. Looking at the structure, it’s hard to believe it was in existence so long ago. To think about all of the people who have touched it, or even walked where I was walking was mind boggling to think about. Miriam insisted on taking many pictures of me. She even made the tour guide join in some. This made me laugh, as this tour guide was really confused, as was I.

When we finished up the tour, sure enough, the guide we had left outside was waiting for us. He insisted we take a walking tour of Old Town Mombasa. The buildings in this area were extremely close together, with only walking space in between homes. We walked through these spaces looking at historic buildings, many of which I had a hard time understanding why exactly they were important, but somehow they were. We passed by many people who looked at me and immediately sprang to their feet in greeting a mzungu girl. I usually just politely smile so the people do not beg me for money or bother me after that. As we were walking through one alley way, many children sat playing on a sand pile left in the middle of the street. When I passed and they greeted me, I smiled as I normally do, and when we passed them again, I smiled once more. A few steps past, I felt something pelting the back of my legs and shirt. One of the children had taken a handful of sand and thrown it at my back. The child ran away with a guardian running after him. I turned to Miriam to tell her what had happened and she said not to worry about the kids. However, I couldn’t help to think what may have caused this child to feel the need to throw sand at me. Obviously, the child could see I was from another country, so is there some hatred to other countries? Maybe parents can’t openly show this hatred, but their children can, or just don’t have the skill set to know it is wrong. Many people think it is their duty to help people in countries such as Kenya, but do the people we are helping really want our help? I know some desperately need it and welcome any help they can get; others probably want nothing to do with us, though.

Another strange instance happened on this tour. When the guide asked me where I was from, I said, “The States.” Miriam instantaneously interrupted me saying I was confused and was from Germany. At first, I thought Miriam must have been confused. I never received a full explanation for why Miriam did this, however she did tell me not to say I was from the United States if anyone else asked again. All of these happenings were very interesting, and made me reflect on how Americans are perceived throughout the world. Do that many people really not like us? If so, why?

Our tour of the cramped and crowded Old Town was followed by a trip to the local Swahili markets. With such small spaces in between the homes, the streets were even more crowded with people. The roads turned into one way and multiple times I found myself face to face with a Tuk Tuk’s blaring horn. Many of the fruits sold in the markets looked different than those sold in Nairobi. I inquired about a big red block. At first I thought it may have been dried tomatoes; however Miriam told me they were dates. Also, piles of round wooden things lined the streets. Miriam said these were coconuts before they became ripe—people drank the water inside. She insisted on me trying one as they are very unique to Mombasa. We took a seat along a bench as the vendor pealed and opened one for me. The juice inside tasted much like water, but there was something about it, I didn’t really care for. To be polite, I finished the drink anyways. We also headed to a store that sold leather sandals. The walls were literally covered in different pairs and men were sitting along the walls, hammering away. We sat there for a while, as I looked at all the options and eventually decided on a pair. Miriam wanted to get home before traffic became too bad, so we headed back to the Northern shore where I am staying. At dinner tonight I once again sat with the mission team from the States. Although this group is probably over twice my age, they provide good company and many inspirational stories.

KMFRI

Staying at a Christian based hotel, many mission groups from throughout the world stay here when doing work in Africa. Being at a hotel, it’s a little hard to walk up to random tables to join so I end up sitting by myself for meals. Last night at dinner, a woman from Arkansas introduced herself to me and invited me to eat dinner with them the following night. The woman was really friendly. This morning in the middle of getting ready for the day, my phone rang. I found this strange because who would be calling my hotel phone in Kenya? Turns out, the lady I had met last night had not seen me at breakfast and had gotten worried; she was just checking in to make sure I was okay. It’s good to know that even half way around the world Americans are looking out for one another.

This morning I arrived at KMFRI to be greeted by Miriam’s fellow office mates. The room in which they worked was quite small. I squeezed into a desk in the corner. Miriam began the morning by giving me a quick presentation on KMFRI. KMFRI is divided into multiple research programs including aquaculture, environmental ecology, socio economics, fisheries, natural products, and information and database management. Miriam explained how each of the different components are linked. She works in aquaculture and although I didn’t see her lab I heard her one the phone talking about different fish feeds. Miriam also explained to me how the Kenyan government would like to make aquaculture a big industry, especially in rural areas, but this cannot be done due to the high cost associated with starting up.

Throughout the morning, I visited other researchers in KMFRI. The first stop was Dr. Bernerd Fulanda who works in marine ecology and fisheries. He talked with me about the field research they have going on about commercial trawling off of the coast. This practice has been banned on a majority of the Kenyan coast due to declining fish populations. Many of the concepts I had learned about in environmental science came in handy as he discussed bycatch and other related terms. Dr. Fulanda also talked on how many of the rural fishermen are having troubles catching enough fish for even subsistence use. I also learned a lot about the different masters and doctorate programs students come to Kenya for. Once I was finished talking with Dr. Fulanda, I was tasked with finding my way back to Miriam’s office. New to the campus, it took me walking down a few random halls to find my way. She then took me to a scientist doing work on mangroves in Kenya. Having done some work on mangroves in the past, I found the reasons for diminishing mangrove areas in Kenya quite fascinating and different from other areas of the world. The researcher explained to me many of the rural communities used the mangrove trees to create their homes or burn as firewood because of the strength and support these trees provided. Little do the people know, as they use the mangroves for their homes, they are diminishing the surrounding fish populations since mangroves serve as a fish nursery. Earthwatch, a travel group I have had some experience with, currently has a project with KMFRI further south in the mangroves. I was really surprised to see maps of the many mangroves on the Kenyan coastline. Programs are working on community capacity building so people stop using the valuable trees. However, if there isn’t a solution for the people, their ways are not going to change, even if the security of their food is at risk.

I was taken back to the hotel for lunch and randomly joined by a lady looking to plan her son’s wedding here. I’m not really sure why she joined me as there were plenty of open tables, and when her friend joined as well, they didn’t speak to me or in a language I could understand, for that matter. I was really confused, and finished my lunch quickly. I headed back to KMFRI where I attended a seminar on microbiology in the ocean. Many of the concepts were way past my education level. I did understand why microbiology was so important to study—much of the ocean has millions of microorganisms living in it. I do have to admit, the view of the ocean outside of the window did make concentrating tougher than usual. My first day at KMFRI was a success with a store of knowledge gained. Being here with food insecurity issues in mind, I continually see connections between many components that lead to food insecurity. Every little part of a community is interlinked and with a missing piece or a falling of a domino, everything seems to go array—including a community’s ability to have another meal.

A Day of Relaxation

I have a lot of extra time in Kenya. Usually I end up filling that time accomplishing tasks off a list of things I need to do before I return home. Today, was slightly different, however; I relaxed. The morning started with me waiting for Miriam to pick up. I thought for sure she said ten and the church service started at ten thirty so when she still hadn’t arrived by ten thirty I gave her a call. She said she was fifteen minutes away. Thinking I had gotten the time wrong, I waited patiently a while longer. She eventually arrived by eleven. I had not gotten the time wrong. When we arrived at the church service the pastor was already starting the sermon. We filled in some random seats in the back. I was surprised to find numerous Caucasian people surrounding me. The pastor was even from Southern United States so the sermon was understandable. I also took communion for my first time in Africa. The bread served as communion was chapatti, and instead of grape juice, I think it was black current juice. Black current is similar to grape. I’m not sure what fruit it comes from, but there seems to be a plethora of black current flavored foods.

Once church was finished, Miriam took me to the local Nakumatt to buy some water for the week. Even with my water bottle filters, I do not think the sink water is safe to drink. Miriam dropped me off at the hotel and I was left with the afternoon to myself.
 
Even though the sky was partly cloudy, I went to relax and read by the pool. Weather here is very unpredictable. One minute it can be clear and sunny and the next about to downpour. I felt a slight drizzle multiple times, but within minutes the sky often turned clear. After a while, I ventured out to the beach where I read some more. While sitting there, some insect stung me. My ankle was throbbing and when I looked down at the spot, the stingers were still in my skin. I carefully pulled them out, hoping to ease the pain. Thankfully the pain soon subsided. I am now left with a swollen bug bite, hoping nothing more will occur. After that incident, I decided the beach probably wasn’t for me, today. While getting up, a few feet away from me, a camel walked by. Startled at the sight all I could do was laugh. The beach I was on is supposed to be a private resort beach connecting with the public beach a little ways down causing a lot of passersby. It felt good to relax and unwind today, before I begin my busy week of learning at KMFRI.

Lots of Crocs

The hotel I am staying in is nice for African standards. From the looks of things, they recently retiled the floors and bathroom. One area they forgot to fix, however, is the sinks. The faucets seem to be rusting, giving my skin a metallic smell with a simple shower or hand wash. But I can’t complain. There’s a pool within a few feet from my door and a little further down the resort lies a beach on the Indian Ocean. Needless to say, this morning I went to check out my surroundings, staying within the hotel boundaries of course. The air is muggy and more humid than Nairobi. I really enjoy the heat and the salty ocean breeze. The sand was fine and white, almost making me feel as if I’m no longer in Africa. The breakfast served consisted of pancakes and French toast. The French toast was decent and the pancakes were thinner than I would typically have back home, also a little sweeter. The resort I’m staying at has two pool areas, both of which look very nice. I sat by one waiting for Miriam to come pick me up this morning. All this scenery is beautiful, but not why I am in Mombasa.

Let me step back a second to explain. When one of my advisers at icipe saw my interest in marine sciences, she immediately thought of sending me to KMFRI (Kenya Marine and Fisheries Research Institute). This is a government run organization, so I was required to send a letter requesting a week internship with one of their staff. They accepted my response and assigned Miriam to be my guide and instructor for the week. Each day Miriam has a plan for me to learn more about KMFRI and the Mombasa area.

Last night I called Miriam to tell her I was here and inquire what time she would pick me up this morning. My American accent threw her off, but eventually she figured out who I was and said she would get me at ten. I should have known this was African time. Finally, at about eleven thirty, she arrived. Being a Saturday, Miriam took me Mamba Village, a local crocodile farm. I think this is related to the crocodile place I visited in Nairobi. We paid at the gate and proceeded on the path a guide instructed us to follow. After a windy trail and looking at some bridges that were about to collapse (we didn’t use these), we caught up to another tour group and joined in. We walked through the park looking at all of the crocodiles. The arrangement was similar to a zoo. Crocodiles were everywhere! The village had the crocodiles divided into age groups. The youngest ones would soon be killed for food. The larger crocodiles were often missing parts of their tails or entire pieces of their jaw from fighting over food. I think the village may have had too many crocodiles in each area. The way some were literally piled on each other was something I had never seen before. Like in Nairobi, I was able to hold a few, except these ones were substantially smaller. The guides request payment or “appreciation” after letting the visitors hold crocodiles or giving tours. This always makes me laugh after we paid to get in. Mamba Village also had a botanical garden, small aquarium, and snake park. I was able to hold one of the snakes as well. In visiting places where animals are kept, I have found the areas are not as well maintained as zoos I have visited in the past. The enclosures often look poorly cleaned, if cleaned at all. I wonder if this has an effect on the life span of the animals.

For lunch, Miriam took me into downtown Mombasa. I didn’t think it was possible, but the streets of Mombasa are even more crowded than the streets of Nairobi. There is a prominent beach feel in the air. The heat carries an uncleanly stench with it. These streets still have those begging for money and children’s starving eyes—the constant reminder of why I am here. Miriam wanted to take me to one of her favorite Swahili restaurants. Being the season of Ramadan, the restaurant was closed. Mombasa has a prominent Muslim community. Walking through the streets we could hear a prayer going on at a local mosque. The Swahili women are everywhere as well, apparent by their full body black dresses. The different attire adds to the diversity of the area.

Since the restaurant was closed, Miriam took me to a local place. With all of the tables full, instead of having us wait, the restaurant took us to some open seats at a table to share with another woman. After ordering fish, I went to wash my hands, expecting a whole fish to appear on my plate. For once the fish was filleted; what a relief. I liked being able to use my fork and knife to eat with and not worrying about any bones. When the waiter came back and Miriam told him to take his time one the check, he sure did. I think we did not leave the place until an hour after we had finished eating. During that time I got to know Miriam better and how she ended up in Mombasa. She had numerous questions for me about America t00.

Miriam took me to Haller Park after lunch. She explained to me that Haller Park used to be a big quarry where limestone was mined to make cement at a local factory. The factory then made the park into an animal reserve where hippos, crocodiles, and other animals are found. We had arrived just in time for the hippo feeding and hurried to their enclosure. We were literally face to face with the hippos as they ate their meat. The crocodile feeding was next and was amusing to watch. The man put meat onto a pulley and dangled it over the water. As a crocodile would snap, the man would pull the meat up. Eventually all the meat was gone and we headed to the snake park. Haller Park was littered with monkeys. They were swinging in the trees and all around us. They were obviously immune to humans, as when we would approach they would just sit and stare. I think the monkeys still amaze me because I am not used to seeing them outside and not enclosed in a zoo. After a day filled with animal watching in the heat of Mombasa, I was thankful to come back to my air conditioned room.

Mombasa at Last!

The morning was filled with lots and lots of packing. It’s a bitter sweet feeling packing up a room I have spent so much time in, practically two months of my life. Half of my stuff will be stored in the Guest House while I take the other half to Mombasa with me. Being Tommy’s last weekend, we said our goodbyes at breakfast. As hard as it was to concentrate with my building excitement, I managed to accomplish a few more paragraphs in my report.  I also headed to Naivis to look for some sun screen. I don’t think Africans wear sun screen because there was none to be found. They sure had quite the selection of lotions, however—more than any grocery store in the States. I am sure Mombasa will have sun screen.

The excitement got the best of me and I waited for the driver at least half an hour early. Eventually he came, right on time and drove me to the airport. His English was hard to understand and despite the fact of Karen telling him to help me at the airport, I was still in complete confusion when he pointed to a door and drove off. I followed his instruction and went through that door, met by the first measure of security. People don’t follow lines, as whenever I would step forward to go through, someone would walk right in front of me. I stopped being polite and eventually pushed my way through the crowd. Next, as in any airport, I checked my baggage at the counter and headed through the second security check point. This wasn’t much different from the first, but was substantially laid back compared to security in the States. Beyond the security gate there were two boarding gates. I was warned in advance that this could be confusing. I managed to figure it out, going to boarding gate one. By this point I was about an hour early for my flight and the ladies questioned me if I really wanted to go through. I had purposefully declined a seat on the early flight as to not confuse my driver waiting on the other end. I went through; just to make sure I wouldn’t miss the flight and took a seat.

For the hours sitting there, I read and waited. I watched one group of people board the earlier flight to Mombasa, closely as to repeat the process I had seen. An announcement came on; notifying passengers there would be a thirty minute delay for my flight. Thankfully, the one delay was all and within time I handed in my ticket and walked outside. The planes were lined up all over the tarmac and getting on the right plane could have been confusing if there wasn’t a line of people to follow. I wonder how many people end up on the wrong flight for this very reason. The line seemed to walk on forever. Of course we had the last plane closest to the runway. The service of the airplane was much like any plane taken in the States, with a complementary beverage and small drink. I was surprised by the emptiness of the plane. Few people sat around me. In fact, I was the only one in my row of three seats. Within an hour, I had landed in Mombasa, at last!

As promised, the driver met me after baggage claim. He introduced himself as Jimmy and was friendly and welcoming. By the time I arrived it was already dark out so anything along the streets was hard to see by the drive. From what I could tell, everything looked similar to streets of Nairobi, with constant traffic and street vendors. The place seems to have more of a tourist feel, though. Jimmy was very informative about the roads we were driving on and where they connected. He told me how we were going from Southern Mombasa, through the island, to the northern shore.

By the time I arrived at my hotel, I was exhausted. As soon as I arrived I was seated down and served some extremely sweet juice. In a ten minute talk, the man serving me told me just about everything there was to know about the hotel and what came with my room. Everyone in hotels here serve the guests to the extreme. At one point I think I had about three guys waiting on me, and there wasn’t even anything I needed. Finally I was taken to my room. The room is nice, about the same quality living as the Guest House. To my surprise the room has air conditioning. I think air conditioning is quite the luxury on the coast. After unpacking my things, getting organized, and figuring out my schedule for the following day, I was out.

Perception

I apologize for the week of unexciting blog posts. My days have been pretty monotonous filled with lots of writing and my nights have been the most productive they have been in a while. There have been no excursions to the city or nights out on the town, but time spent at icipe has helped me to accomplish many things on my ever increasing list.

This afternoon marked my last run outside of the icipe compound because if everything goes as planned, I will be flying to Mombasa tomorrow evening. The run was great and being my last I made a point to really take in the scenery. I wanted to go far and Rafiell hung with me to do that. The long road we ran on seemed farther than normal for Rafiell and shorter than usual for me. After about six miles, we stopped where the rest of the group was waiting for us and began our walk back. While walking, a drizzle picked up. I made a comment about how I hoped the rain would wait a while to pour. Rafiell said, “This isn’t rain. It’s just cold drops from the sky.” It’s all about perception I suppose. The rain held off for the most part and when I returned the group probably thought I was crazy for running around the compound a while longer. Returning to my room, I was drenched in rain feeling very accomplished.

The dinner tonight was leftovers from lunch. With only two people staying at the Guest House, serving leftovers makes sense. For those who eat both lunch and dinner here, though, the food gets a little old. I find humor in the fact that I can completely tell the salad they served cold for lunch is the same salad served for dinner, just cooked. I wonder if the people preparing the food think those living in the Guest House don’t notice. Some days it is hard not to.

Sitting alone for dinner for so long with only the occasional visitor joining me if we happen to go eat at the same time, I naturally sit at the same table. Tonight when I did this, a man sitting at another table said, “Why sit alone when you can have company?” I did not mean to be rude to him, I just didn’t think about it. I went over and sat with him, introducing myself and my role at icipe. He asked me a few questions about the States and inquired about the weather. I explained how from talking to people I had heard about severe droughts and heat waves. Having told him about working with climate change, he asked me what the “super powers” (the United States included) were doing to combat this issue. I gave a few solutions, but I found it interesting how other countries are looking to us to solve these problems. If no one starts working to solve the problems and we keep looking to other people, these problems will never be solved. Maybe we need to change our perception on what needs to be done and just do it.

Different Customs, Different Culture, Different Things

As you may have guessed, a majority of my day was spent continuing on my research report. The report seems to be coming along, just very slowly. With time the words and ideas will come together and fall in place. I am beginning to feel as if my hands are permanently attached to my keyboard, though. I arrive in the office each morning to respond to e-mails and begin writing my paper. When I go back to my room at night I write my blogs and am now working on projects for college. One benefit is my typing accuracy will be retained this summer. Instead of fumbling to regain the hang of typing out long papers, my hands will already know which keys to press in the fall.

This afternoon I had the pleasure of meeting the Director General of icipe, Dr. Christian Borgemeister. After having suffered a back injury in a car accident he was on sick leave for quite some time. The respect people throughout the office show him is remarkable. Our interaction was quick, but I felt honored for him to take time out of his busy schedule to even come and say hi to me.

Throughout my stay in Kenya I have been keeping a list of differences in customs and culture. Beyond the obvious differences such as wall plug-ins, there are so many little differences I notice on a daily basis. For starters, as I have discussed before, the time. When I say everything is done at a leisurely pace, I mean everything. For instance, lunch breaks usually last for an hour or more. People very slowly eat their food. I have yet to figure out how they can eat a plate of food so incredibly slow. Even just walking back from the supermarket—the steps taken seem in slow motion. The atmosphere at the work place is laid back and slow also. People take multiple breaks and never carry work home with them. The slowed pace is hard to get used to, but I think I have mastered the hang of it. My patience has definitely improved at the very least.

Culturally, greeting people is very different. I am still slightly confused on the whole greeting thing, but so far this is what I know. Handshakes have a weird twist to them. You shake the person’s hand, then grab it, then return to the position of a firm shake. Sometimes people do this and other times they don’t. When they do, I am thrown for a loop. I often fumble my way through the greeting, hoping they don’t notice my novice greeting skills. Other times, greetings are done with a hug. The hug consists of touching your cheek to both of their cheeks. I believe this is a British influenced custom, but I could be wrong. These hugs are always incredibly awkward for me and never feel quite right. My beginner skills are bound to shine through on this one.

There are many little things different as well. Keys look ancient, as in there are key holes and the types of keys girls wear as jewelry in the States. This also took me a while to get used to, as each hole is different and entering my room can sometimes be a challenge. Also, reliability of sources can never be counted on here. For instance, power comes and goes—sometimes for no reason at all. 

The way sentences are formed and how people refer to different articles confused me at first. The basics I have down, such as a napkin is called a serviette (French?) and when you say you are going to call someone you tell them you will flash them. The word have is normally replaced by the word take. So in Kenya, I take lunch with a group of people, I never have it. And the list continues…

Despite all of these differences whether cultural, customary, or others, I have come to understand we all share many similarities, connected by an unbreakable bond of human nature.

The Beauty that Surrounds Me

I have never had a problem writing. Usually I get an idea and can write until my work is finished. The research report I am writing is another story. I spent a majority of the time I was supposed to be writing, thinking about my word choice and how the paper will flow. There is so much reflection about how this experience has changed me and the way I now view the world, my writing is taking a lot of thought. In simple words, today my day was spent thinking and writing.

After my time spent in the office, I went on one of my weekly runs with the group. The group always seems to be changing with only a constant few people always coming. We run on a snaking deserted road back behind icipe. The occasional motorcyclist or bus sometimes passes in a swirl of dust. For the most part, though, the area is peaceful. The road leads to a busier road and in the distance an expanse of homes exist. There is a quarry, which at one point served as a mine. Birds are constantly flying overhead. The huge ones sitting and looking fake in the trees never fail to amaze me. A sporadic animal scampers from the tall, overflowing weeds through the street. This picturesque scene in front of a delicate sunset is wonderful. The view is a beauty in its own. I have noticed the view before, but today the sight seemed more vibrant and alive, or maybe I was just concentrating on the beauty surrounding me.

When it all starts making sense…

Today was a day of making connections. For some reason all of the discussions I had with people triggered connections in my brain to understand. It’s interesting how just now I am finally making sense of certain aspects of the culture or where things are coming from. Maybe I am finally understanding.

This morning I received an e-mail from a friend asking me if I had ever read Little Prince the book. No wonder the name of that school sounded familiar, along with a familiar looking picture at the entry. I had read the story in French last year. I only remember bits and pieces of the story so when I return home I will have to read the book in English. I was telling Vivian about this realization. She told me how there is the book in the school’s library and the children absolutely love reading it. I wish I could have seen this book when I visited.

I was telling Vivian about my visit to the small church this weekend and she explained why the church is so important. The church I visited on Saturday is the smallest in Kenya and was built during World War II by the Italian prisoners of war. The church is a symbol for the everlasting relationship those who fought in the war had with God. This would explain why the church was built in 1942.

For some of the meals in the Guest House they serve a tomato salad. I could never figure out why the salad tasted so spicy. I always get the tomatoes thinking it will be just plain tomatoes, but it always seems to have a kick. At one point I thought the spice was caused by the onions. Today I finally realized the spice is because the salad I eat which I thought was only tomatoes is actually tomatoes and chili peppers. They look so similar that I can’t tell the two apart. This explains a lot.

Before I left I was told about the products icipe makes with the insects. I always thought this was just the research I had seen on the first day with making insect repellents. Even after living on this campus for almost two months I still don’t know my surroundings. I entered a new building today where many insects are kept. These insects are used for producing different products such as honey and silk. I didn’t get to see any of the insects directly, but their products look awesome. Amazing how such a small insect can create such beauty.

Those are most of my discoveries for the day. I never fail to learn something new each and every day I spend in Kenya. My time in the office today was spent catching up on writing and working on my research report. Hopefully I can get a majority of the report written by Friday.

Mount Longonot

I was awoken early from the damp grassy dew seeping through the cracks in my tent and the loud African birds chirping in the distance. Before long David was yelling for everyone to get up. We had a long journey ahead of us and lots of stops to make on the way. We got ready fairly quickly, collecting all of our belongings and throwing some toothpaste in our mouths. Before long, we were back on the road.

Lake Bogoria looked serene in the morning. The sun shone brightly on the blue lake with mountains in the background. Pink patches once again littered the water. The flamingoes had not left in the night. Along the way we stopped at the hot springs. Here, the dense steam bubbled from the ground. I was mesmerized how water sitting on the ground could be literally boiling. I put my hands over the top of it and some water even splattered up, slightly burning my skin. There were signs surrounding the location warning of boiling water and sink holes. After admiring natures rare beauty we loaded up the van and continued. The next stop was a few kilometers away, trying to get as close to the flamingoes as we could. I was able to get decently close for a photo. I have never seen so many flamingoes together at one time. They looked so peaceful coexisting together. The scene looked as if it was from a postcard.

Arriving late to our campsite the night before, we didn’t get to experience the natural hot springs jacuzzi a local resort had to offer. In the morning, a few still wanted to experience the warm natural water. The resort we stopped at was paradise compared to where we had stayed the night before. There was running water and a bathroom. I took one look at the green water of the natural pool and decided against it. Whenever I see natural places to swim all of the water safety warnings seem to flood my head. I felt the water in the natural pool and took a seat at one of the pool chairs surrounding. I have seen very little of the sun in Africa, surprisingly, so laying under the sun for about an hour was quite relaxing. 

On the roads outside of the resort I saw small huts people lived in. This is what most envision when thinking about African living, yet, after living here six weeks, these were the first I encountered. Tired from little sleep the night before, I took a nap on our way to our next stop at the Nakuru Nakumatt. I decided it would probably be a good idea to get some small snacks for the week and some random souvenirs I had been meaning to purchase for people back home. We also stopped at a fast food place in the shopping center. The veggie pie I ordered was nothing to rave about and the fries tasted average. After another hour of driving, we arrived at Mount Longonot.

Mount Longonot is a large crater people can climb up and walk around. Due to our morning pool stop we would not have enough time to walk around the crater. We began our journey up. Before we started, I told everyone I would be hiking up at an American pace. Walking up the side of a mountain is hard, but even harder when going slow. Without any rain in a while, the path had turned to loose dirt. At first I tried to avoid any large patches or walking through the dust trails others in front of me would leave. I quickly learned it was no use and accepted the fact the hike would be a dirty one. The front of the group began at a brisk pace. Soon David, Alex, and I were a ways ahead of the others. We came across people coming down who pointed at what we were hiking to. The hike looked long and very steep. By the halfway point hut, David decided he was done hiking for the day. Alex and I were left to hike on our own. Sometimes the path would be smooth and easy. At other points I would be using branches and holding onto rocks to pry myself up. The burning feeling in my legs would come and go depending on the incline. The hike was hard. After about fifty minutes of solid climbing we made it to the top. The view of the valley below and the inside of the crater were spectacular. I told Alex how strange I found the spacious country when so many were crowded and packed together in the city. The inside of the crater was full of dense vegetation and steep, a fall I don’t think anyone would survive. Alex and I took many pictures while waiting for the group. We questioned whether anyone was coming and just as we were about to start the hike down, we saw part of our group. We waited for them to reach the top and have a rest as well. The team that made it consisted of Karen, Rafiell, Claire, Alex, and I. The rest had been too worn out by the eventful weekend.

The climb down was almost as hard as the climb up. The steep slopes were slippery with loose dirt. By this point, my legs were coated in a thin layer. Rafiell began to run down a section and I followed suit. That was a mistake. A slight misstep into a side ditch and I found myself on the ground, completely covered in dirt. The ground was hard and the fell hurt, as any fall does, but I quickly got up and continued. White was probably not a good color to wear on a hike, as my shirt was now gray. I could feel the fine dust plastering every inch of my skin. I don’t think I have felt that dirty since the days of softball playing. Part of going down was marked by gently sliding my feet to prevent any more falls. Another challenge presented itself—staying away from the thorn coated bushes. Rafiell and I led the hike down accomplishing the journey in about thirty minutes. The others were waiting for us at the bottom.

Luckily, a tap was available for rinsing off before getting back into the vehicle. The rest of the journey home is a blur of sleeping and mindlessly staring off into the distance. Upon my arrival back to icipe, I took a nice cool shower. There was so much dirt, my entire shower turned black. The cool, relaxing water was a perfect ending to my eventful weekend.