Here and There

I've been home now for about 2 weeks and I have to say, I'm glad to be back.  It's nice to feel some sense of normalcy again, especially now that the jet-lag has worn off.  Coming home from living halfway around the world the day of an important event was probably unwise.  I may have spent a  significant portion of Thanksgiving curled up in the corner of the couch asleep.  Don't worry, I did wake up for pie.

Back in Kenya, this week marks the culmination of all the work I and my standard 8 pupils have put in over the past year.  This week they took the exams for their Kenyan Certificates of Primary Education.  I've been thinking about them and crossing my fingers all week.  I'm very proud of all the work they have done this year to prepare themselves.  Michele wrote a lovely post about it for the GVI blog, which you should definitely go read: http://gvimombasa.blogspot.com/2012/12/a-dream-come-true-for-olives.html.

I won't get the results for a few months, but I will try to let you know how they did when I find out.  Until then I will be subbing in LPS, reconnecting with friends and enjoying all of the holiday festivities.  If I haven't gotten ahold of  you and you'd like to hang out, let me know.  My phone number hasn't changed.  I intend to be in Lincoln indefinitely; or at least until the end of the school year.  Then I'll see what the universe has in store for me.  My apologies if you don't hear much from me in the coming months, it's hard to find things that seem worthy of writing about when life just feels normal!

Homeostasis

Forgive me, readers, for I have sucked.  It has been 24 days since my last post. 

Yes, I’ve been busy.  But never am I so busy that I can’t find a little sliver of time to write an update when something remarkable happens.  No, the real reason is slightly more interesting than simply a lack of time.  The main reason I haven’t written is that I have felt as though I’ve had nothing to say. 

It’s not that life got any more boring – it’s never really dull here – rather, it’s that I’ve gotten too used to it.  I’ve reached homeostasis.  I’ve reached the point where life here is just life and it couldn’t be any other way.  All of the quirks and idiosyncrasies that at first were so interesting and notable are no longer cause for notice.  I still make sure to take pleasure in the little joys of everyday life, but not because they are novel; just because they are nice.  Even the sparkling excitement of going away for the weekend is abating.  I’ve been to most of the places that we can get to in a weekend and the appeal is quickly fading.  The people and the jokes change, but the experience is largely the same.

I don’t mean to say that I know everything about this place and its people.  On the contrary, the more I learn, the more I realize I don’t understand.  I just mean to say that I’ve settled in.  My tourist goggles have largely fallen away and Mombasa is more and more becoming a place I refer to as mine.  If I had a few more months here, I would probably revel in my newfound sense of place.  As it is, it comes just as I am beginning the process of saying goodbye (perhaps because I am saying goodbye?).  And I’m ok with that.  I’m glad to know that I’ve been here long enough to achieve it, but I can’t wait to get to a place that doesn’t require such a severe settling in process.  A place that is already home.

When I left Lincoln 5 years ago, I knew I would be back and forth, but I wasn’t certain I would live there again.  I certainly never thought I would be so excited to move back.  But, time goes, things change and now I can’t even wait to be home.  I can’t wait to see everyone and just settle in.  To just be instead of constantly relearning how.   To take a break.

I’m a little bit nervous, though.  The fact that I’ve gotten so used to things here makes me feel like I may have a bit of a time readjusting to such a completely different world.  The potential for reverse culture shock is great.  So, if you see me in December looking a bit dazed and confused, please be kind.  I’m dealing with the fact that the mundane has suddenly become noteworthy again – then check back here because I’ll probably feel the need to write about it.  

Object Observations

I think that one of the main things I have learned from living here has been the versatility of everyday objects.  I feel like, at home, we tend to associate objects with specialized purposes.  We rarely divorce them from each other, so, when we have a new problem to solve, we go and get the object we are supposed to use to solve that problem.  Here, it’s not so much an option most of the time, so I’ve learned to divorce the function from the object and repurpose it for new uses.  For instance, last night, I spent several hours applying paste from a coffee mug with a butter knife.  It was actually very effective. 

I also spent several hours reliving the gelatin smell of my synchro days.  I don’t even need an ingredient list to tell you that Kenyan paste is not vegan friendly.  It was the first time the connection between horses and glue felt real for me.  

Terminator Must Charge

I spent most of last week marking compositions.  I can't say that this is one of my favorite pastimes.  It takes a lot of time to edit them all and their stories tend to be a bit...dramatic.  I get excited when actually find a story where no one dies, gets beaten or goes to jail.  It almost never happens.  Occasionally, though, things like this do happen:

"I went to the sitting room to watch the news and the journalist announced that the people they to watch out themselves because that smartly dressed man he was the robot named Terminator and he was looking for a place to charge himself. 

When I heard that, I went to the shelf to look at the photograph in the album of my brother.  I saw the robot in the picture then I knew that my brother is the one who made it so let me help it to avoid the policemen." - Lucky

I may or may not have laughed out loud, by myself, in the living room.  Of course, the robot then went on to kill several officers of the law with a hand grenade. Thus continuing the cycle. 

Eid-al-Fun

I’m terrible at picking favorites.  I can never settle on just one thing.  I’m much better at making top pick lists.  In that vein, I’m going to declare that I have recently added one more to my list of favorite days in Kenya.  A couple weeks ago was Eid-al-Fitr, a Musim holiday which marks the end of the fasting month, Ramadan.  I happen to live in a rather Muslim city.  I also happen to love experiencing local celebrations the world over.  You can probably see where this is going.

I headed downtown on Sunday afternoon with the other volunteer staff, enticing them with promises of street food.  Sadly, it was a bit rainy and we were a bit early for the food portion of the evening.  We entertained ourselves by taking pictures of one of Mombasa’s beautiful sights – a garbage dump right next to a lovely park.  Then, after a pit stop for amazing chicken and samosas, we finally started to happen upon the promised food stalls serving meat on a stick (Paula’s favorite) and Zanzibar pizza (Paula’s other favorite).    We also found plenty of shawarma, though we were a bit too full for it at the time (I’ll be back for you!). 

Guys, go take a picture with the rubbish!

Then, just as we thought we’d exhausted our options and it was time to head for the market, we discovered…the carnival.  This turned out to be one of my favorite places (there I go again) in Africa and I kind of never wanted it to end.  There is no reason that I liked it so much except that it just seemed so perfect for the time and place.  It was just like any carnival at home, with amusement park rides and food stalls and souvenirs and photo booths and camel rides (what, you don’t have those?).   Except that it was just so African.  Everything about it.  All of the rides were based on very basic physics and appeared as though some guy had welded them together in his garage.   The food and souvenir stalls were the same cobbled together shacks you see on every road, in every market.  Nothing felt mass produced or modern.  Everything felt a bit rickety and unstable.

The girls decided to be bold and try out a flying Dutchmen ride while I took pictures (spinning rides make me feel ill) and then we all decided to ride the giant swings.  Think of two benches facing each other, connected by the floor and pushed almost to the horizontal by a couple buff men.  You used to occasionally find these on backyard playsets, albeit scaled down a bit (and without the men, of course).  Full disclosure - I expected it to be kind of lame.  Actual experience - it was really awesome.  I really think the fun factor was significantly increased by the complete lack of oversight in the safety department.  Falling out seemed like a legitimate concern, unlike most amusement park rides at home.  If ride people would just stop making everything so safe, they wouldn’t need to make things nearly as high or fast to achieve the same level of terror.  Just a thought.

On our way out, we stopped to get our picture taken in one of the myriad photo booths set up for the occasion.  Whereas, at home, you might find a couple of plywood figures with their faces cut out, waiting for you stick yours in and snap a silly picture; here you find little stalls swathed in rainbows of gaudy fabric and Eid banners where, for a small fee, you can pose for a picture.  Don’t worry, we made sure to pick the tackiest one we could. 

Staff photo!

After the fair, we took a quick jaunt back down the street so Leigh could pick up some more amazing samosas and I could check out the ice cream parlour I’d had my eye on.  It was totally worth it.  Actual chocolate.  Soft serve.  Coated in chocolate sprinkles.  Served in the stalest cone ever.  The perfect end to an absolutely wonderful day.