As promised, we ate last night’s dinner for breakfast. Out comes the African George Forman and in goes the green pea pods. Some of the beans were still hard and it hurt to bite into them, others were mush and browning. It was horrendous and nauseating – clearly the best meal yet
Moses, Moses, Moses. It’s a good thing you’re one of my favorites or else I would seriously have issues with you. Thanks for not peeing on me today; it was quite the step forward. The step back was when you puked in my mouth. I can’t wait to get your chest infection. Thirty days of diarrhea just isn’t enough of an African experience for me.
After the morning with the children, I went over to have a sit down meeting with the teacher. We went over the needs and wants, what they were able to purchase on their own from donations and what would be impossible without our help. It was apparent they needed most everything, including a new school. Lucy seemed to have a good idea of where we could start the initial shopping so we didn’t waste any time.
It turns out the only way to get ahead here is to use methods that are considered, to us, illegal or inappropriate. For example, getting the uniforms made in “sweatshops.” I didn’t see any kids, but I also didn’t see any labor laws or employee courtesies in affect either. There wasn’t any other option so we had to purchase there. I felt so bad that I kept tipping and handing out treats. They also only sell one book in the bookstore so you’re forced to make photocopies of the one book. Before I could do anything about it they ripped off the cover and started. They seemed puzzled and frustrated when I kept trying to explain that I wanted to pay for the other ones and this was not necessary. They kept saying – we only have ONE book. What can you do? I guess when in Rome…..
We were brought into a scary, sketchy part of Nairobi to make these purchases. This is the part we were warned not to venture except with people who are familiar with the area. People were coming out in droves to see us; we were a rarity in that neighborhood. We would see people following along down parallel roads and starting when we would come into view at intersections. We stopped for photos whenever we had a chance, including for two women selling fruit on the street. I wouldn’t have been nervous but I, as well as Tara and Lucy, were caring hundred of dollars worth of supplies. We were targets for multiple reasons at that point. At one point Tara exclaimed, “my Lord” calling upon him for help as we entered yet another alley. This made us all hysterical, especially since she is the least religious amongst us. It just goes to show the conditions we were in.
There was nothing to do but make more of a spectacle, which we did to the tune of Grease Lightening blaring out of a building nearby. I’m pretty sure they haven’t seen the movie so we looked pretty ridiculous showing off our disco moves. Dang we were good!
Even though we have the donation money, we couldn’t have bought nearly the amount we did without the expert advice and research from Lucy. She deserved a treat, as she had done everything for nothing. All she wanted was a $1 fish at a local Kenyan restaurant. I try to avoid the local restaurants like the plague so we just had Coke while she dug in. The fish was huge and there was no way she could finish it so I started stealing pieces off it and feeding them to a scrawny cat hovering near by. The cat was loving it until the owner came over and gave it the smash down. It ran away screaming and I felt responsible. Note to self, feeding cats in Kenya is serious business.
The “bunk beds” they created for us were really two single beds held together with a few well placed nails. They shook and lurched every time Tara would roll over. I thought for sure I wouldn’t make it home without the top one caving down on me so I wasn’t surprised, but totally scared, when I heard a loud bang and the side hurtling down at me. Luckily it was hinged on and didn’t come all the way crashing down. Who knew sleeping could be so dangerous?
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