The irony of my being called down to Mombasa in the middle of the week to get a flu vaccine is that for months I’d been hoping for a call from PC saying for some reason or another I had to go to the coast, but the time I actually get the call is the one time I have legitimate plans in town and don’t want to go. Tough, it was required, so come Wednesday morning I was on the bus. My plans were with G-Youth, my secondary project. We were having the first day of the first group of youth attending the first Symposium for our project. Two youth from each village around Garissa were chosen by their peers to be youth leaders and participate in this program where they will develop volunteer projects with other youth in their village. They will learn how to write proposals and implement projects and then will present their projects in a Youth Action Summit in April. I was so excited to see the youth work through the process and wanted to meet them so they would feel more comfortable coming to me for advice (my primary purpose in the project is to act as a resource person and mentor if they need help with their projects). That’s not to say I was entirely upset at having to go to the coast (I never could be considering how much I love it and I’m never against seeing friends) but the timing was not so good.
I enjoyed seeing my friends and it was convenient in that I was already planning to go down to the coast to meet up with Courtney and Kristin for the weekend so it meant I would already be there come Friday. The trip on Wednesday was less than pleasant, taking 12 hours up to Mombasa and arriving covered in dirt. At one point I wiped sweat from my face on the sleeve of my black shirt, thinking it would be no big deal since dark doesn’t show dirt. You know the song, “black socks they never get dirty, the longer you wear them the blacker they get...” Not so much. It left a large brown spot where my sweat mixed with all the dust and grease from my face appeared on the cloth… awesome. I could see the dust, which was not coming through the windows, but from the undercarriage of the bus, accumulating in my collar bones and clinging to my clothes. Luckily when I got to the hotel I was told my roommate would be Mary who I hadn’t seen since IST and that was a huge pick-me-up. And the shower, of course.
I spent Thursday with my friends eating at our favorite place, Tarboush, which has delicious chicken schwarma, and drinking at our favorite chill coffee place, and getting my H1N1 vaccine - ouch. Then we bought cereal and milk and cheese and crackers for dinner… oh the things we miss! Sadly the cheese (a brie that I have had before) tasted like it was made in the Dead Sea and was actually difficult to eat, but we toughed it out unable to just let it be wasted. The following morning we met up for coffee before heading off our own ways, but first I had to wait for an hour past the time they told me my laundry would be ready for it to arrive. I had given in and decided to pay the hotel to clean a few things since I got so filthy on the way down and the women told me it would be ready by 11. I asked if maybe they could have it by 10 since that’s checkout time and they said yes, maybe by 10, but it turns out it never comes before 11. Sometimes I wish Kenyans could be more straight-forward instead of just telling you what you want to hear, but then again I’m the one who keeps listening… I have had an epiphany though. When Kenyans say “somehow” that should be interpreted like the American “ish”. For example, you might ask them, “is it dangerous” and they respond “somehow.” I believe this will be a helpful lesson.
My friends went ahead and ran some errands while I waited and during that time they text me to say they had found a really cute kitten which they would bring to coffee if I wanted it. I had been thinking about getting a kitten ever since the mice and rats and bats invaded our house and had even talked to my roommates about getting one. I told them to bring it along (even though in the back of my mind I knew there was no way I could bring it with me) so at least I could see it. When I got to coffee and saw the kitten hiding in the couch cushions I fell in love. It is by far this cutest cat I have EVER seen in Kenya and was so little with huge blue eyes… He just hid behind me against the cushion and eventually started to enjoy being pet. After a lot of back and forth, and thinking about all the traveling I still had to do for the weekend, I decided to give it a shot. I figure: worst case scenario, I realize I can’t make it all the way home with him and leave him somewhere which would likely still be better than roaming the streets of Mombasa. We decided he should be named Matoke and called Mo for short. I put him, bundled up in a laso, into my bag and headed up the coast to meet with Kristin and Courtney. He slept most of the way to Malindi and only tried seemed really agitated on the ride to Watamu after we stopped to buy my ticket home and some fish for him to eat. I was really surprised by the reaction from the Kenyans, who generally don’t keep pets for their companionship, but seemed really interested in Matoke. Even the matatu touts loved him and reached in the window to pet him as we went by. One man kept calling him my baby and laughing as Matoke peeked his little head out of my bag. Most memorably, one of the touts at a stop reached in to pet Matoke and told me, “I like your pussy… I like your pussy cat.” This awkward moment, like so many others, brought to you courtesy of British English. All I could do was laugh (at least once I realized what he was really talking about).
The rest of the weekend with Matoke went better than I expected, especially considering Kristin is allergic to cats which I had forgotten and he had to sleep outside at the hotels. Luckily, the staff all thought he was cute and didn’t seem to mind too much my keeping him around. The manager came out at Turtle Bay and I really thought we were in trouble, but he just offered a cage to keep him in so the monkeys wouldn’t take him. We found out quickly that my little adorable kitten is an escape artist extraordinaire. We came back from dinner the first night to find him in the dark alley next to our hotel. More accurately, a dog found him and we noticed before it had a chance to eat him. After only a short time in the cage at Turtle Bay Matoke realized he could fit through the holes between the bars and spent most of the day on top of his cage, though thankfully he remained on our porch. Taking him back on the bus to Garissa was a challenge, but we made it, somehow. He stayed on my lap for awhile but once we hit the turbulence portion of the road he spent the remainder of the trip desperately attempting to escape to the space under the seats. I grew so tired of picking him up (and prying his claws out of my legs, and the legs of my neighbor) that I wrapped him in my laso and dangled him between my legs. This may seem harsh, but really, he wanted to be down there anyway judging from his attempts at escape and I couldn’t deal with his shenanigans or his pestering of my neighbor so it was necessary. I didn’t ever leave him in there for too long and rationalized that the end point (my safe and wonderful home with food and love) was worth a little hassle if it was saving him from a life of hardship. Right? I did feel like a kidnapper and as a result spent most of the time desperately hoping this tiny creature would develop Stockholm Syndrome and start to love me. I think he has judging from his following me around the house and sleeping next to me as I watch movies. He will be the most spoiled cat in Kenya between my roommates and I. Lucky Matoke.
I told my coworkers that I had a cute new kitten which I brought with me from Mombasa and instead of being surprised, they expressed serious concern. Apparently you should never pick anything living from Mombasa and bring it with you because they have many ghosts. It’s been known to happen that people pick up a goat or some other animal which becomes a human on the way home and begs to be returned to Mombasa. They were not impressed with my ignorance, but it’s too bad because I love my little ghost.
Getting back to the weekend at the coast with Courtney and Kristin, it was amazing! The strange thing about hanging out with them on the beach in Kenya is that it didn’t feel strange at all. We had fun catching up and just enjoyed a relaxing time at the beach. I miss those girls so much and it was nice to have girl time. Plus, we obviously enjoyed fawning over Kristin’s 5-month baby belly (so cute) and feeling the baby kick! When we arrived at the beach we met one of the friends I made on vacation with my brother and dad. I introduced him to the girls and shook his hand. Unfortunately, his hand shake included the not so subtle wiggly finger to my palm… so inappropriate. I’m totally appalled that in a country that relies on peer pressure and shame to regulate inappropriate behavior something so violating could persist. It makes sense, somehow, because it is only known to the recipient of the hand shake and thus no outward signs could bring the shame, but the knowledge that you are the only one aware of the advance almost makes it worse. I’m just thankful this doesn’t exist in America as it does in so many other countries of the world. At least it seemed fairly harmless coming from this guy.
The entertainment the first night was a production of Phantom of the Opera. I absolutely love this play and was excited to see what they would do with it. They definitely didn’t disappoint. The costumes were very elaborate: white wigs, gold lipstick and gold face sparkles, and wild white hair for the phantom. The began with dialogue from the auction scene (the entire production was from a tape with each person lip synched to at the appropriate-ish time) and then began the first song. The guy who played the girl’s other love interest clearly had no idea what the words to the song were and it appeared he was overcompensating for this with broad gestures, that also didn’t seem to fit exactly with the emotion he was trying to convey. The phantom and the girl did better for the most part. The actions they all used to emphasize the feeling behind the songs were priceless and you could tell people were a bit unsure about where to be. The best part was the second, and final, song in which the girls goes with the phantom. They put a boat into the pool and had two guys in teh water walk it across while the girl was seated and the phantom “steered”. I am really amazed at the amount of effort they put into these shows. The costumes are wonderful, the sets are elaborate, and they must practice. It just makes me happy. Plus, I LOVE The Phantom of the Opera and thoroughly enjoy any chance to listen and sing along with the music (the music of the night)… even if the play ended with the girl being taken to the dungeon. For the rest of the evening we had a dance party. Be “we” I mean Courtney, Kristin, me and the handful of Kenyans paid to be dancing. It was tons of fun and we didn’t even feel that weird about the audience, who had remained after the end of the play, watching. This was an amazingly fun weekend!
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