Independence

Central Park after a snowstorm

Surprise, surprise...spending time in NYC was the best thing I could’ve done for myself. It gave me a chance to get over the post-Africa anticlimax and it got me back on track for the second half of my year off. Now I'm ready to move forward and plan my next great adventure. 

I loved exploring the city and was in awe of all it offers. Especially the food...

Alidoro – simple Italian sandwiches with the best ingredients imaginable – freshly baked bread from Brooklyn and mozzarella that melts in your mouth. Expensive, but sooooo worth it. The woman behind the counter is a little mean, but the Italian sandwich maker totally balances her out. 

My good friend Deb and her husband brought me to a hidden treasure in Greenwich Village: an exclusive restaurant that was once Aaron Burr’s carriage house. We sat by the fireplace in the bar, sipped champagne, and pretended to be NYC elites. 

I would move to NYC just for the miso ramen at Rai Rai Ken. The flavors are so intense and I could create perfectly balanced spoonfuls for the entire bowl.  Shredded chicken is used instead of pork...and it didn't have any weird seafood surprises like the other ramen houses.  It was, by far, my favorite food find of the city. 

Please go there if you're in NYC. Do it for me. 

The experience of B & H Dairy is unlike any other place I've eaten. From the moment I sat at the counter, I felt like I was a part of their little community. I served food to the people seated behind me. I talked to the owner about his world of soups. And the cashier/assistant cook became my BFF for about 15 minutes. 

   

I had my first borsht experience at Veselka, which will forever hold a special place in my heart. 

My father took the train up from DC to spend an afternoon in the city with me. In anticipation of our upcoming trip to Italy, I brought him to Eataly, a huge Italian food emporium that opened last year by some famous chefs. It's pretty amazing and does make you feel like you're in Italy, but in the most crowded & touristy part (picture the Vatican on Easter Sunday). It's definitely overpriced and kind of ridiculous, but where else can you find amazing Italian cheeses, meats, pastries, coffee, bread, chocolate, fresh pasta, wine & gelato all under one roof?

Kilmat was across the street from where I stayed in the East Village and I was told it was known for its hot wine. I scoffed at the idea of heated wine, but on a snowy evening my curiosity got the best of me. Turns out, hot wine (spiced with cloves, brown sugar & cinnamon) is delicious! 

Mountain Gorillas in the American Museum of Natural History
(I guess this is a good option if you can't go all the way to Rwanda!)

While in Africa, I visited some amazing nonprofits and I wanted to do the same while in NYC…so I reconnected with an old colleague, David Vincent, who now works for The Door, an organization that’s been serving the homeless youth of NYC for almost 40 years. Entering The Door is like walking into a Best Practices R Us store. It has everything: crisis counselors, an array of therapists who specialize in different fields, GED test prep classes, job prep & placement services, music/art/graphic design/photography/dance classes, tutoring & homework assistance, legal services, English classes taught by the #1 ESL teacher in NYC, meals, housing services, medical & dental services...All under one roof! They are opening a charter school later this year named Broome Street Academy! It would be a great model for the future direction of Monarch School, as it expands to serve more students and incorporates more services.  

Deerfield Beach, a three hour flight & 60 degrees away from NYC 

My grandma's brick outside of the Legion

I decided to join the snowbird flock and fly down to Florida to visit my grandmother, aunt and mother, who are currently visiting my grandma’s old stomping grounds.  I’ve landed at the Hampton Gardens Senior Condo complex in Deerfield Beach, which is conveniently located right next to American Legion #162 (my new favorite hangout spot).  This trip is giving my grandmother a chance to spend time with some of her good friends and reconnect with the social scene that was once such a big part of her life. It's also allowing me to meet some fascinating seniors...infatuated lovebirds, survivors of all kinds, and walking history books.  

Reggae Mama is 87 and still going strong (she "comes alive at five"), but needs a lot of support now to do basically everything. When I was younger, I thought of her as the most independent woman I knew. She spent a large part of each year living in Montego Bay and created a whole life for herself in Jamaica that amazed me. She always seemed to have a much more active social life than I ever did...and she's famous for her ability to walk into any scenario and become friends with everyone in the room. It’s difficult to see someone who was so strong and energetic transition into needing so much help – but I guess our independence all comes to an end at some point. I’m letting this trip be a reminder to myself that everything is temporary. I'm feeling very lucky (& independent).

Impulsive Me

“Follow your instinct” always seems to be good advice, but what happens when your instinct turns out to be wrong?  In my case, you end up in New York City by yourself.  Even though I feel crazy for being here, it’s giving me time to reflect, freak out, walk in the snow, cry, think about next steps, have great conversations, explore, eat the best food ever, and rediscover what makes me ME. 

Sometimes we get lost just when we think we’re on the right track.  Kind of like hiking when you realize you’ve missed the trail…Panic sets in..and then, more often than not, you stumble upon something really amazing and beautiful that you wouldn’t have seen otherwise…and then somehow you find the path again. Sometimes getting lost can be the best thing for us because it redirects us in a more focused way.

When I returned from Africa, I felt like I had lost a sense of who I was. I’m not sure why, but my goals seemed to disappear upon my return to San Diego…and I was overwhelmed by the thought of what to do next.  I didn’t feel like the amazing African me…I became mundane me (but with great pictures and cool stories). Africa was over and I needed to decide what to do next, but I couldn’t find the passion to plan my next adventure.  

So what do you do when you lose your passion?  You follow your instinct…to NYC, obviously.  The first few days here absolutely shattered any faith I had in my intuition, but I’m confident that it will all make sense soon enough. In the meantime, I'm listening to Josh Rouse, enjoying the snow, and eating my way through the city...

Japanese Ramen...Incredible.
Minca Ramen Factory

A restaurant that specializes in Mac-n-Cheese!
(almost as good as mine)
S'MAC

Choices

It's Christmas and I'm happy to be with my family, but part of me wishes I was still in Africa. I miss it there. I've shared some of my pictures and told some of my stories, but it all seems so superficial compared to what I actually experienced. I don't know how to explain to my family how this trip to another continent has actually changed me, but I think they can tell I'm a little different...I'm a little happier, a little more appreciative, a little less tolerant of people who complain, a little more loving, and a little less concerned about anything & everything.

In the last couple weeks, I've realized how many choices we have in America. Did you know Trader Joes has about 40 different types of cheese?  I'm in a house with two refrigerators, both packed with food, yet we still can't decide what to eat. And have you been inside a Target? It's truly amazing. I feel so grateful to be in a country with so many privileges, but I'm concerned about what it's done to us. I'm surrounded by kids who have hundreds of toys, but still "need" more...adults who are going into debt to buy the latest and greatest presents for their loved ones...and friends who have arguments about which elementary school to choose for their five year olds. So here I am enjoying a holiday in my most familiar environment, but I can't stop thinking about Christmas in Africa and about what some of my friends there did for the holiday. I'm guessing they went to church. (Hmmmm...there's an idea.) Here are a few people who are most on my mind...

Kassanda & his two boys

The first person I met in Africa became one of my all-time favorite people in the world. Kassanda was the taxi driver who met me at Kilimanjaro Airport the night I arrived and one of the last people I saw before I left Africa. Just thinking of him makes me teary-eyed.

I'm not sure why Joyce liked me right away...maybe it's because I liked her, or maybe it's because we jumped rope together. I don't know...but I do know that I didn't give her a proper goodbye. I told her I'd be back in a few weeks and she had the exact date memorized, but I never returned. I'm sure she's over it, but I can't seem to shake the guilt. If I had one regret on this trip, it's not coming back to see her again. Luckily for me, I captured her superhuman trick on video:

Gerard lost his entire family, except one sister, in the Rwandan genocide. He witnessed unthinkable acts of violence and betrayal against his loved ones. I can't even imagine functioning after what he's experienced, but he seems happy and hopeful and patriotic. He was my personal guide for five days and on day two he became my Rwandan boyfriend (or so it seemed). On day three he asked me to marry him. I tried to explain that my parents wouldn't know what to do with five cows, but his persistence was endearing. Part of me actually considered it (the mentally ill part). He recently sent me an email about a teaching opportunity in his village. Nice to know that's an option.

Babu would kill me if he knew I was using this photo.

I think Babu Bob may have been my father in a past life because I feel a connection with him that is unusually familiar. He has spent the last 17 years trying to help the most needy people in East Africa and has been betrayed time and again by its corrupt and dysfunctional governments. But he's still there! His health has suffered as a result and it's actually a miracle that he's even alive. If the only thing I did in Africa was help him, my trip was totally worth it.

Jackie with her mom

I also keep thinking about Jackie, the 16 year old cook at Orphans of Kilimanjaro. She is such a kind, gentle person, but has the maturity of a ten year old. This is why she's not in school (no such thing as special education where she lives). She's usually very silly and giddy, but she sometimes gets very sad and quiet too...which is why I keep thinking of her. I'm worried about her future and I'm worried about how attached she gets to volunteers who come and go out of her life. Her mother has many other children, so Jackie is pretty much already on her own. I've had friends tell me they expected me to return from Africa with a little adopted baby, but it's someone like Jackie who I really wanted to take home with me.

There is a HUGE difference between life here and life there. I don't know which one is better, but I do know I would like to find some sort of balance between the two....a balance between consumption and sustainability; between comfort and inconvenience; between wants and needs. And even though part of me is still emotionally in Africa, I'm ready to move forward and take what I've learned to change the way I live. I've decided not to return to Monarch when my year's leave is over. I've also decided that going to  Guatemala and hiking Machu Picchu is no longer part of the plan, at least not right now...but I do feel like it's time for something big. I'm trying to listen to my gut and see where it takes me. I'll keep you posted.

Kwaheri

I have mixed feelings about leaving this part of the world knowing that I'll probably never return. I feel sad and tired, embarrassingly privileged, sentimental...and sweaty. I already miss people I've met here and know I'll miss other things too, like sunset soccer games, hearing each morning's call to prayer, cool looking creatures, Tanzanian brews, "hakuna matata" attitudes, dala dala rides, street vendors, unsupervised gangs of children, Swahili Coast dhows, and maybe even instant coffee. But I'm ready to leave and anxious to make some changes in my "real" life.
 

Swahili Coast kids

Centipede? Millipede?

 

Sunset soccer game under Mt. Kilimanjaro

This trip has changed me by helping me realize, more than ever, the importance of kindness, love and living life without fear. Here are some of my (not-so) profound thoughts about the last few months:

Life is much more simple than many of us make it. I think it all comes down to survival and happiness...and it's all relative, of course, depending on where and how you live. Many of us seem brainwashed to think we "need" so much to survive and that we "need" even more to be happy. Survival here is much more raw than it is at home. Many people are struggling to just get the basics: clean water and calories; while folks at home are devastated because their new car got a scratch or their latest computer gadget broke. This is all very obvious, of course, but being here has really put it all into perspective.

There is so much sadness and despair in this world...but the resiliency of the human spirit is mind blowing. I've met people who (by American standards) have no reason to be so damn happy...survivors of mass genocide, AIDS orphans, people who have lost everyone and everything they love. Next time I'm feeling "woe is me" I will think about these people, my inspirations for finding true happiness.

If you live in the United States, you are one hell of a lucky person. This trip has made me realize how easy we have it at home...and even though we complain about our government, politics, education, taxes, medical care, etc...WE HAVE IT MADE.

One more thing, I've been reminded (once again!) of the Earth's beauty. We live on an incredibly diverse and complicated planet with amazing creatures - large and small. Over the last few months, I've snorkeled in protected coral reefs, made eye contact with mountain gorillas in their home, watched hippos mate, and have fallen in love with the fascinating world of birds...but I've also seen pristine land turned into trash fields, natural spring water turned into streams of raw sewage, the raping of our oceans, and endangered species used as hunting practice for the rich. I'm worried about our future, but I've decided not to let my fear control my own future...which I guess is the biggest lesson I learned.

Eco-Tourism at its best

The Silverback who allowed me into his home...the greatest highlight of my trip to East Africa!

Detour to Kilema - part two

This little village of Kilema is crazy...and I think it might be a microcosm for the entire country of Tanzania. In the last week, I've met a man who hasn't left his porch in three years, witnessed a witch hunt aimed at village children, and have had trouble finding a banana to eat -- even though this house is surrounded by banana trees. Nothing is easy here.

Mama Flora introduced me to a man who hasn't been able to leave his home in three years because the tires on his wheelchair are deflated. This is a perfect example of a solvable problem that no one solves. (Mind boggling!)  (Had Babu Bob known about this problem, he would have fixed it in a heartbeat....but Mama didn't tell him for some reason.) One trip to bike stores in Moshi and the problem is almost fixed...now just need to find someone to repair the tires (supposedly the carpenter at the church knows how to do this...we will see). Unfortunately, everyone is so consumed with current village drama that I'm afraid there will be a delay getting this done...but the man hasn't used his wheelchair in three years...I guess he can wait a few more days, right?

The 14 year old boy on the right has been this man's aide since the age of 7
 when his parents died of AIDS. He helps this man with everything.

Warren's camera was stolen from his room last week. A witch hunt ensued, in which some village children were put on trial by many local adults (including the village chairman) as their way of investigating. Hours of finger pointing and crying and yelling and pushing led to..........nothing. So instead of going about it in a different way, the village leaders got the police involved and took the teens to jail down in Himo, so the truth could be beaten out of them. I won't get into all the details, but the way the case of the missing camera has been handled would be laughable if it wasn't so sad. You are definitely guilty until proven innocent here. The camera drama is now going on its fifth day and still....no camera. Talk about a distraction! I need to get Babu Bob back on track first thing tomorrow morning...I have a plan.


banana tree from my bedroom window
(bananas everywhere, except the dining table)

Just about my favorite kid in Africa...
Emanuel is 14, orphaned, & possibly the sweetest teenage boy I've ever met.







Mama Flora with Frank and his friend
(see last week's entry for his story)

Obedio, 14 yr old orphan born HIV+...
a regular around here

Thoughts: I appreciate things now that I never knew were important to me, like fitted sheets and pens. I've also learned to never buy Snickers bars in East Africa (g-r-o-s-s). Refrigerators are great, but not necessary. And when you leave your window open, bugs WILL enter...and they will stay all night...and usually the next day too.



My typical afternoon snack



Our 16 yr old cook, Jackie, isn't able to
 attend school so she works for Babu instead.
I'm worried that she gets too attached to the
volunteers who come and go. 



Babu Bob in his newly organized office (never mind the desk mess)...Wall decorations by yours truly.

  


Rhode Island cousins, Becky & Alyssa, with Steven...one of the best kids EVER. The mark on the top of his head is his teacher's way of letting his parents know he can't return until his head is shaved (like a note home).



This picture was taken in front of the fancy neighborhood bar and ironically, 
 by the young boy who stole the camera (under the order of an older kid, supposedly).





Detour to Kilema - part one

Plans changed and I've ended up at Orphans of Kilimajaro, a place I've actually had on my radar for many months and was then reminded of when I ran into Babu Bob at the ATM in Moshi.. I recognized him from his website and there was something about him that I couldn't quite shake. Weeks went by and I still kept thinking about the twinkle in that man's eyes and his thick old-school Texan accent. When these few weeks opened up I decided to send him an email to see if I could come to his "Garden of Eden" in the foothills of Mt. Kilimanjaro, so here I am. The village of Kilema is very rural, very poor, and very beautiful. It's located a little over an hour from Moshi and about 10 miles up the mountain from Marangu. There aren't any stores or restaurants, just bars that serve warm beer and homemade brew (which I won't touch, don't worry). Banana trees line all the dirt roads, as do many young children carrying machetes and unemployed men on their way to or from the bar. Everyone is super friendly and eager to speak the few English words they may know ("Good afternoon, Missus"). And although most people seem somewhat content, there is actually a lot of despair here...everyone seems to have a story that breaks my heart.

Babu Bob is here to help the people of these villages, which have a ridiculously high HIV rate and an even higher unemployment rate. Many children are orphaned because their parents have died of AIDS and the families in the area are trying to survive on just about nothing. Babu Bob is here to help give them hope and opportunities by providing them with food, educational assistance and medical care.

I've only been here less than a week, but have already met some incredible children in this tiny, middle-of-nowhere village:

• Benny is about twelve years old and is incredibly shy, probably due to the cantelope-sized growth on the side of his head. He wouldn't speak to me at first, but then warmed up after I let him write in my notebook. He doesn't attend school because children tease him, so no one has ever noticed his dyslexia until I looked at the words he copied down from a poster. Everything was written perfectly, but backward. We played hopscotch together and drew with the colored chalk my mom sent (thanks!).  Babu Bob has coordinated medical care for him and Benny is scheduled for surgery early next month.
• I visited 17 year old Frank in the hospital, his home for the last six years. He's a paraplegic due to a digging accident he had when he was just eleven years old while trying to make money for his family. His parents have passed away and his siblings live out of town, so Babu coordinates all of Frank's medical care and visits him on a regular basis. His bed sores are overwhelming and the hospital, although very clean, doesn't provide much attention. He has nothing except a little cassette player/radio which he uses all day long to play gospel music. I want to find things for him to pass the time, but what he really needs is a tutor who speaks Swahili and someone to do physical therapy with him. If only. (UPDATE: Frank passed away on August 16, 2011. Part of me feels relieved to know he's no longer suffering. His bedsores had gotten to an unimaginable point and his colostomy complications became much more severe. But I can't shake my sadness about his suffering. Here is Babu's emotional description of Frank's death, but only view it if you want handle reality at its worst. http://www.orphansofkilimanjaro.org/)
• And then there's Obedio, a 14 year old boy whose been staying with us the last few nights because he sprained his ankle and couldn't walk home (there aren't cars around here). He lives with his grandmother because both of his parents have died of AIDS. Obedio was born HIV+ and Babu Bob helps him get his anti-viral medication and also provides him and his grandmother with food.

But I'm not in Kilema because of these children....I'm here because of Babu Bob. He's given up everything to help some of the world's neediest people. He's led a fascinating life, which includes three adopted children of his own, a successful career in engineering, and a post-retirement Peace Corps position. For the last 17 years Babu has dedicated himself to the people of Tanzania, but has faced many obstacles that would send most people back home in a heartbeat. Aside from the difficulties he's encountered with the corrupt Tanzanian government, he's also had some terrible health issues over the last few years, including (but not limited to!) congestive heart failure, a colostomy, and a few minor strokes. It's amazing he's still here, trying with all his energy to make a difference in this tiny village of Kilema.

I came here with the purpose of teaching, but immediately realized my time and energy would be better spent helping Babu get organized. We're creating a working budget, getting his nonprofit status finalized in the U.S. and strategically reorganizing Orphans of Kilmanjaro so that it reflects his real vision and mission. Then I'll work on funding once I leave Africa (that week-long grant writing workshop is finally going to pay off!). I showed up just as he was slipping into a hole of hopelessness, so my goal is to provide him with the direction he needs to then give help to the people in Kilema. Stay tuned!

Nairobi, Nakuru, Naivasha

Nairobi
The shuttle bus from Moshi to Nairobi spent about 85% of the nine hour journey off-roading because the long "highway" was under construction. About 10% was spent stopped or broken down. Only 5% was on a paved road...but 99% of that 5% reminded me of a car racing video game where you weave in and out of traffic, hoping not to die. It was an interesting way to enter the city known as "Nairobbery."

We found a backpackers' hostel full of budget travelers from all over the world...most of whom spend their evenings around the fire, reading their Lonely Planet Africa books, drinking Tusker, and one-upping each other on travel stories. It makes for good people watching, especially while I sit by the fire, read my guidebook and drink a Tusker...

Grad Night 1993
(we still look the same, right????)

One of the greatest parts of this city is that my high school buddy lives here. Since graduation, she has worked her way around the world and is currently in Kenya doing nutrition education in slums and rural areas. She is amazing. And she hasn't changed at all. I swear she still looks 18 to me. We spent the day with Christine and her boyfriend, a 23 year old hip hop artist named Octo, as well as his one-and-half year old daughter, Tracy.

Octo, the oldest of four children, was orphaned at the age of 15 and left to raise himself in Kibera, the largest slum in Africa and one of the biggest in the world. It houses about one million people who don't have much access to basic human needs, like clean water. Octo, who also runs a youth center in Kibera, provided us with a tour of his old neighborhood. (Tours of Kibera are starting to become popular with Nairobi tourists, but not many guides can take you deep inside...most stay along the perimeter.) There aren't many roads in Kibera, just walking paths that take you past countless mud shacks, mounds of trash, catatonic dogs, piles of charcoal for sale, streams of sewage, goats, and gangs of unsupervised toddlers. I felt the way Lesley Stahl often looks while on assignment...completely out of place. I didn't want to come across as a wealthy, white voyeur touring one of the poorest neighborhoods in the world...but that's exactly what I was.  I have never before felt so privilliged.

After walking for at least an hour through the slum's maze, we finally arrived at our destination: Octo's rented shack, where his 12 year old brother currently lives (ALONE). His brother was still at school so we hung out in his room without him, completely in awe of his living quarters. The 8x8 room was dark with the only light coming from the doorway and a few openings in the tin roof. He has fearless rats as roommates and strangers as neighbors. There is a little charcoal stove in the corner, which he uses to cook all his breakfasts and dinners (he gets lunch at school). Newspaper pages from the fashion and entertainment sections decorate some of the wall space, but it's mostly just mud. Just outside his front door is a pile of trash and stream of raw sewage. The nearby outhouse, used by countless people, had recently fallen apart. When it rains heavily  this raw sewage finds its way inside his front door. I can't stop thinking about this 12 year old boy who I haven't even met! Christine and Octo are hoping he gets accepted into a boarding school at the beginning of the new year, along with his 15 year old sister (a whole other story!) who is also in need of a new living arrangement.

Octo's recent feature in a Nairobi newspaper

Starting our tour of Kibera with Octo...still in the peripheral "safe zone". 

The mud room on the right is where Octo's brother lives...and where Octo lived until recently. During the rainy season, that little stream of sewage rises through into his shack.

Tracy, Princess of well behaved children

 Nakuru

The two hour matatu ride from Nairobi to Nakura made my shuttle bus from Moshi seem luxurious. I was crammed into the 14th seat in the back corner of this soon-to-be-illegal mode of transportation and every little bump made my head hit the roof. N and I headed into Lake Nakuru National Park, just on the outskirts of this crowded town, for the next 24 hours. The afternoon safari was amazing, despite having a teenager who couldn't drive a manual car as a guide. We had close up encounters with endangered rhino, giraffes, cape buffalo, antelope of all kinds, thousands of flamingos, white pelicans, cranes, and even a leopard! We didn't see any tree climbing lions, but heard a pair mating during the night just ouside our camp's fence. Our morning safari was equally relaxing and beautiful, and by the afternoon we were loving Nakuru. After lunch we decided to find a place to stay the night so we could explore the town a bit more, but we wanted to leave the area after learning that all Nakuru hotels (even those recommended by the guidebook) are havens for prostitutes and their patrons. During that walk through town, I realized Nakuru has a sinister energy to it that completely contrasts with the feeling at the neighboring lake. Nakuru kind of reminded me of an old frontier town from the 1800's...lots of desperate people crammed together and trying to make money in any way possible, whether it be from stealing, swindling, prostituting, begging, or selling random cuts of meat. After a frustrating encounter with a con-artist at the bus station, we were happily on our way to Naivasha.

lots of white and black rhinos in this park

the male (left) went to start some trouble with the three ladies

I'm now a birder! (this is a weaver)

baboon eating a mango along the lookout point

beautiful water buck

one of the only places where
Rothschild giraffes still roam free

the lake is known for its flocks of flamingos

view from lookout point (Baboon Cliffs)

Naivasha
The matatu dropped us off down the hill from Top Camp and we hiked up, hoping we'd like what we'd find. The view was amazing and our little cabin was surrounded by huge flowering cacti, birds, roaming cattle, chickens, and insects galore. This could be entymologist's lab, especially in the outhouse at night. N & I found a local restaurant with yummy comfort food for about $1 per meal, a resort camp across the road with $3 coffee (what a contrast!), and many small butcheries (usually connected to a bar or a hotel). Our bike ride in Hell's Gate was hellish....I'm still recovering. I actually found myself missing the city of Nairobi...so we headed back for another night at our hippie hostel, kissed some giraffes, and went out for the best Ethiopian food of my life.

Hell's Gate National Park (while I was still enjoying the ride)

AMAZING Ethiopian food in Nairobi

 

Stella, people person extraordinaire and night receptionist at Milimani Backpacker's Hostel.