kibera.

standing on the corner of olympic, the front stage of kibera, we see our friend octo approaching. he is dressed nicely in dark jeans and a collared shirt with a sweater over it. from the outside looking in, you would think that he lived in a house. maybe in the city. and that he probably had a pretty stable job and income. if these were your thoughts, however, you would certainly be wrong. he lives in kibera.

kibera is the largest slum in nairobi, and the second largest slum in africa. it is home to nearly a million and a half people, all of whom pay rent to live there. kibera has thirteen different villages, is home to the olympic primary school, and houses one fifth of the two point two million kenyans who live with aids.

upon first entering kibera, in the nicest part, you think, ok, this really isn't so bad after all. but then you get deeper into it, and you reach the uganda railway line that passes through the city center, and is on top of a hill. once you reach this point and look out, there is rooftop after rooftop, as far as the eye can see. to say that this is an overwhelming sight would be the biggest understatement anyone has ever made. this vast, sprawling area, which houses twenty five percent of nairobi's population, is, in its own way, breathtaking.

while walking through different sections of kibera, it is not hard to notice that most everyone you pass looks, for the most part, extremely content with the lives they're living. adults are running their individual makeshift shops, children are getting out of school and running around with big smiles plastered on their faces. as we ask octo questions about various things we come across while we're walking, he tells us this: as much as he thinks about leaving kibera, and despite the fact that it has deteriorated so much over the years, despite the fact that at times it is not the most wonderful place to live, it is his home, and he loves it. he takes us to his house, which is a mud hut with a tin roof, and i'm surprised by how nice it seems once we're inside. something hard covers the floor so you can't see the dirt and there are big panels covering the walls for the same reason. it is very very small and there is barely any room to move. he has a twin sized bed, a coffee table, a couch and two chairs and a bulletin board covered with pictures. his younger brother lives with him as well. as we start walking back to the entrance of kibera, we pass a river that looks to be made up of mostly sewage, and is littered with trash on both sides. octo tells us that when he was younger the river was clean, and he and his friends used to swim in it. that is clearly no longer the case. as people shake his hand and call out to him while we're walking and he keeps telling us little side stories about his home, you can hear it in his voice and see it in his face. this is his home, and this is the place that he loves. the phrase that i have been hearing for my entire life, now rings true more than it ever has: home is where the heart is.

diani beach.

there are so many things i could say in this post about the indian ocean, but i'm just going to let the pictures do the talking instead.

america?

or should i say, american food. after almost two weeks of eating african food, a delightful discovery was made at a place in nairobi called the junction (which is basically a glorified mall). they have pizza. and not even the really good kind of pizza where the crust is really crispy and the cheese is really great. it's pizza where the dough is defrosted and toasted and the cheese is just so-so, and the tomato's are a little bit wilted and sad. but after eating lentils and beans and brown rice for what seems like an eternity, this pizza might as well have been made by god. case in point? sometimes, processed food is pretty great.

the tiniest little nugget of a piece of pizza.

way too excited for processed food.

machakos.

work on tuesday and wednesday consisted of taking three small coleman camping tents to a little town about thirty minutes away from mlolongo called machakos. the plan for the next two days is to have as many people as possible pass through our tents for free, confidential testing. and, unfortunately, the majority of the people we come across need a whole lot of convincing to come inside our tent. well, convincing by kenyans, that is.

i have never been to a country where i have felt so incredibly out of place. there is absolutely nothing you can do to make yourself blend here. so, obviously, if i hand out a flyer about aids and getting tested, a local of machakos is a lot more inclined to take it from me then to take it from another kenyan. because you know that in their mind they're thinking "who is this little white girl, and what is she even doing here?". so they take a flyer. and then the hard part comes in. because i don't speak swahili. with the exception of hello, please, thank you, ok ok, it's your right, and free vct, i have no idea what any kenyan is ever saying to me. this is tricky because, unfortunately, you don't really know who you can trust here. some of the men i have come across have been perfectly nice. just very interested in who i am, where i'm from, and why i'm handing out this flyer. but most of them are trying to buy me. or marry me. and let me tell you, i'm pretty popular in kenya. i've gotten about ten marriage offers so far. maybe one of these days i'll take someone up on it... just kidding dad.

there's not too terribly much i can say about machakos. it is drab. and cold because it's farther into the country and closer to the mountains. all in all, we had a lot of people get tested over those two days. partly because the color of my skin made our little tent seem extremely interesting. but all i can really say is that just like the slums, machakos is one of those places that makes me feel terribly fortunate for the life i lead.

sweet little girl.

our tent.

machakos town.

machakos town take two.

athi river slum.

after having an american fourth of july party that consisted of hamburgers thickened with ugali, sweet potato fries and a fair amount of beer, i went to bed ready to face my first day of work the next morning. we have been placed at the ray center, which offers voluntary testing and counseling for hiv/aids, and does outreaches with mobile test centers to surrounding communities. most of the people who work there are youth and are under twenty-five. after meeting everyone and learning a little bit about what the center does, we were thrown into our first outreach with absolutely no idea what to expect. our first assignment? one of the athi river slums.

slum. noun; a heavily populated urban area characterized by substandard housing and squalor.

well. all i can really say about that definition is that it does a really poor job of categorizing just how shocking a slum really is. upon walking in, it wasn't too incredibly shocking. just things that come to mind when you picture a slum. barren land. little tin houses. lots and lots of dust. random patches of grass. so really, it's not that bad. until you get a little deeper into it. and you realize, that there is sewage in the middle or lining (or both) the paths between the houses. that the tin houses look like one big gust of wind will knock all of them down. that there are hoards and hoards of people, and children, who are basically covered in dirt. as we walk through the slum, our big group holds a banner so everyone there will know that we are not intruders. we walk through the slum singing songs and clapping and start to draw a crowd, mostly of children. and these children? they will immediately break your heart. you wave at them, they wave back. you hold out your hand, they take it. or they give you a high five. and eventually, they all warm up to you and you can't help but love each and every one of them. the adults, however, are a different story. some of them, you can tell, love that you are there. some of them just give you condescending looks. some of them are infinitely perplexed by the color of your skin and seem to be wondering what the hell you are doing there. as we start the aids demonstration, a crowd draws. and everyone seems to be enjoying the skit put on by the center, and its amazing to see them all watch with such attentiveness. the skit ends, and the whole team assembles to hand out condoms, and then things get tricky. well, maybe just for me. a drunk man who introduces himself as steven comes up to me, puts his arm around me, and proceeds to tell me that "steven wants you". and in my head i think, yeah... well.. actually.. how the hell do i handle this?? after a few minutes of an unrelenting steven, the team ushers me in between two of the male members and steven lets go, and we all start to walk away from the slum. thats when we all realize, that once the demonstration is over, the slum is most definitely not the safest place to be.

while walking away from the slum, i noticed that once we reached the very last little tin house on the outskirts, all the people stopped following us. the stood there, as if there was some kind of invisible fence, and watched us walk away and cross the street. as i looked back on all the children who were waving at us, i felt fortunate for my life in a way that i had never felt before. i also knew that after witnessing that small slum, i would never view a lot of things the same way again. everyone who comes across this should count their blessings tonight. because despite what you think might be wrong with your life, you've got it good.

athi river pictures.

a little boy that i want to adopt.

me and my new boyfriend steven.. just kidding.

dirty but sweet feet watching the presentation.

a little boy and girl i fell in love with.

home.

after a few very long days, i am finally settled in kenya. the journey began on monday evening, with a flight to amsterdam arriving at noon on tuesday. luckily, we had a twenty hour layover in amsterdam and were able to stay in nice place for one last night. after arriving and deciding we should try and stay awake the rest of the afternoon, we went to a restaurant for lunch and quickly realized that this plan was absolutely not going to happen. new plan: go back to the hotel, set an alarm, sleep for an hour. new plan: we forget to set alarms, and sleep for six hours. oops. so after waking up around nine pm, we went out to have dinner followed by a few beers at an outdoor cafe.

the next morning we got up at six thirty in order to catch our ten twenty-five plane. after waiting in the longest security line of all time, we finally boarded the biggest plane i have ever laid eyes on. fortunately, our coach seats had little tv's in the backs of the seats in front of us. being that one guy who can't sleep on planes, i found myself in between two sleeping adults, somewhere over africa, bawling while watching 'the blind side'. lets get real here, this would happen to me. the flight went smoothly for the most part and i was blessed to get to sit next to a woman named esther, who was a native of kenya, and thanked me for the work i would soon be doing. after arriving and waiting at the airport, we were taken to a place called the shalom house for the night. the next day we had orientation and were taken to our host homes that night.

after arriving at our home, we met our host anena, who came to kenya with ivhq in 2008 and has never left. we live with two other volunteers, charlie and cheryl, and a little kenyan family consisting of salema, our cook, and two kenyan highschool students named beautiful and ben.

after waking up this morning and sitting in the common room of the house with a cup of chai tea that salema made, i could think of only two things. one, that i absolutely want to extend my stay. and two, this place that i have decided to throw myself into, is home.