Visiting Nanyuki

Two of my good friends (Eva and Christina, pictured at their home at right) and fellow Fellows work at the BOMA Project and live in Nanyuki, about 4 hours north of Nairobi. Rebecca and I visited a few weeks back and had a great time seeing their home and the town they work in. Nanyuki lies in the foothills of Mt. Kenya and sits on the equator (see the picture below!), making it a stunning spot and a perfect base for BOMA's operations. We had a great weekend visiting them and our friend and fellow Sally, who works 45 minutes away at the Mpala Research Station, which looks a lot like the set from the Lion King and took us on a game drive around the property. We watched the sunset looking out over sprawling hills and flatlands that are home to all manner of Kenyan wildlife. 

Rebecca and I watch a healthy amount of House Hunters International and Food Channel shows and this ad comes on all the time, and every time it comes on I forget what it is and think, "wow, where's that, I want to go there!" ... and then promptly realize what it is. You can take the girl out of America, but sometimes you can't take America out of the girl I guess. An interesting perspective on how my country markets itself to prospective visitors: 

Greetings from Zanzibar!

I love traveling. It probably goes without saying, but I'll declare my love again because that's how strongly I feel about it: I LOVE TRAVELING. Especially when it's to new places to meet great people. Last weekend, Rebecca and I (and our friend Eva, another Kenya fellow) packed our bags and headed for Zanzibar for the East Africa PiAf fellows meet-up. This was my first time truly leaving Nairobi in the three months I've been here; and it was glorious. Not that I'm not growing fond of the city, but I welcomed the change of scenery (cue white sand beaches, fresh sea air, warm Indian Ocean, seafood, and no chaos). I rode my first propellor plane (12 total propellors and I had to duck to board) and we flew right by Mount Kilimanjaro as the sun rose. I love flying, the anonymity I feel in the no-man's land between heavens and earth. The liberation of it and the sense of crossing the world are thrilling, and I'm reminded of my privilege to be able to travel so easily and grateful for the opportunities to do so. After 2 short hours we landed in Zanzibar, and 3 perfect beach days ensued:

On our second night we took a beautiful, 2-hour sunset cruise and swam in the ocean as the sun set... pure magic. The ocean was incredibly calm; when we were there there were hardly any waves, and the water was incredibly warm. 

The sand on Zanzibar was like fine-grain white sugar, but when we scooped some up we found bits of shells and coral. We even saw some huge starfish through the clear water. 

The Good Lie

I am just as skeptical of movies about 'Africa' as the next international-relations-grad-from-a-small-liberal-arts-school, but I will unabashedly recommend The Good Lie. The story follows a group of Sudanese refugee children who find a temporary home first in Kakuma Refugee Camp in northwestern Kenya and later in the US as adult asylees. Based on the tens of thousands of narratives that are the lived experiences of Kakuma camp residents, this movie does a good job of portraying the humanity behind the numbers and news stories. Does it oversimplify things? Yes, of course, it's Hollywood. My biggest contention with the film would be that the 'epilogue' credits fail to mention that conflict is ongoing in the region and that to solve one crisis does not solve them all. The absence of this may suggest that the audience assumes that the same conflict is ongoing, which is problematic, or that everything has since resolved itself, which is doubly problematic. The conflicts currently forcing populations to flee their homes are complex and different from that portrayed in the film. If you want to learn more, the IRC just published a paper and videos on the status of South Sudanese refugees that gives account of the situation through the eyes of an organization that is very active on the ground.

One of the things I appreciate about this film is entirely self-serving in that it reiterated for me why I'm here. It put into perspective the scale of the population the IRC serves not just in numbers (Kakuma's population currently stands at over 179,000) but in the potential, the love, the pain, the hope, and the community of the refugees. Also, the scenes of Nairobi are pretty realistic, and the bits of the camp give a visual of one of the areas I support daily.

So do yourself a favor, and spend the $11 dollars (or whatever it is these days) to see this film. Please don't come out of it thinking you've read the news or have a complete understanding of the 'plight of refugees' but know that it does compassionately tell parts of the real stories of some of the people I serve. And yes, you should absolutely bring tissues.

Kitengela Glass Factory

In the 11 weeks I've spent in Nairobi, I've only left the city 2 or 3 times; in all honesty I'm beginning to get a bit stir crazy. Gone are the days of hopping in a friend's car at a moment's notice and going on a weekend hike in the San Gabriel mountains, no longer can I escape to the expanse of Ocean Beach for some space and solitude. You can imagine my delight (and slight desperation) when my friend Margaret called asking if I'd be interested in heading out of town to check out the Kitengela Glass Factory, about 45 minutes outside the city center. 

(a slight side-story diversion: Margaret and I are friends because we were on the same flight(s) from DC to Nairobi and both missed our connection in Zurich by about 30 seconds. We spent four delirious hours in the Zurich airport sharing power bars, stale scones, a way-overpriced coffee, and a WiFi passcode. One re-route through Istanbul and two flights later, we arrived in Nairobi the type of friends that only mis-guided international travel can make).

The drive out to Kitengela is stunning; the day was fresh from the morning rains, the skies were a clear blue with puffed-up clouds, the wide and rolling hills were dotted with flat-topped acacia trees. After a bumpy ride across a muddy field we pulled up to what can only be described as the glass-and-craft version of Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory. Plus the dense foliage of a tropical paradise and the wide expanse of the savannah. I thought I knew 'hippy', growing up in Northern California and familiar with the eclectic collection of craft and expression up the Russian River and northern coast. Kitengela Glass brought it to a whole new level, with iron-and-clay sculptures dotting the landscape and larger-than-life creations of glass and wire. Broken bottles mixed with the stone in the laneway walls, glass beads hung from tree limbs, stained glass windows peered from the rounded mud huts. It's like Alice went mad in art class or the witch from Hansel and Gretl created a less-aggressive venue for Burning Man or Dr. Seuss thought he'd try his hand at architecture. (Gee, Ellie, any photos to share? Apologies, none because I was blinded by my joy at getting some non-city air and adventure in my day as I was leaving the house and didn't grab my camera).

Bewildered and wide-eyed, we watched the artists blow glass in a giant, over-sized kiln. I don't think I've ever seen glass being blown before, and it was nothing less than jaw-dropping. The molten glass, composite of recycled glass bottles which have been melted down by heat from used engine oil, is like honey. It's either poured into a brick-like form for later use or gathered on a long metal pole by an artist who then turns and twists and blows it into some stunning thing. The artists produce beautiful glasses, mugs, vases, beads, bowls, sculptures etc. that are sold worldwide. The discarded pieces are used to mosaic the entire property and for the art around the property. We checked out the metalworks studio where the glass is used to make tables, chairs, chandeliers, and large-scale art installation pieces and then headed to the art collective next door. 

How to explain the art collective? Part tree-house, part gallery, part art workshop, part deck-overlooking-a-koi-pond-and-the-national-park, this was one of the strangest and most beautiful places I've been. There were glass ornaments, wizard hats made of cut-up beer cans, glass-bead wind chimes, wire bird cages, jewelry, and swings off the back deck. We wandered into the office of the founder and owner, Nani, who was the sweetest, most direct-questions-asking, eccentric woman I've met. A resident of East Africa since the 1960s, Nani is at once at ease in her environment and electric with curiosity. As she says, Kitengela is where broken and discarded things end up (it reminded me of this Beatles' song a little bit). In her home/family compound she has the most wonderfully ragtag collection of animals that follow her devotedly. There's a stunning (yes, also mosaic-ed) pool overlooking the national park and beehives throughout the property that yield gallons of golden honey each year. Nani and her family were warm and welcoming, and I felt privileged to spend an afternoon with them. I look forward to returning and learning more about Kitengela. 

I loved the Secret Garden as a child; too much, my mother would say, as I wore down the DVD and role-played the spoiled Mary all too often. I think I found in Kitengela the same sense of adventure, discovery, and nostalgia that I felt as a child and encountered something totally different from my experience thus far in Kenya. It was a stark and refreshing alternate to my desk/office life, one that drew from and inspired creativity. I was fortunate to grow up in schools and in homes that valued art and working with your hands and expression through multiple media, and I couldn't help but feel at home in this strangest of oases. 

Back in 2012 when I was in Rwanda, I had the great fortune to meet a dynamic duo from South Africa who were on transit from London to Cape Town... by bike. Tom and Matt cycled 501 incredible days from Tom's home in the UK to Matt's native South Africa and made some amazing memories along the way. Two and a half years on, Tom has created a travel cookbook of their journey, and it's about to be hot off the presses. Called The Nomadic Kitchen, this book is testament to the joys, discoveries, and challenges of travel that have inspired me to take on a global life and career. I highly recommend you check out the website for more! 

Flowers, tea, and the end of month two

Once every couple of weeks, Rebecca and I stop for flowers on our walk home from work. Nairobi, while sometimes chaotic, smoggy, and clogged with traffic, is also chockablock full of bright greenery. These flowers were growing wild in the hills just outside of Nairobi and are typical of the city landscape.

A couple of weekends ago a couple of friends and I went to a tea farm in Tigoni, just outside of Nairobi. We heard from the owner of the farm, a lively 70 year-old woman whose grandfather moved to Kenya from Scotland and started the farm on 60 acres of rolling hills. Now reduced to 2 acres, the farm still produces tea. She spoke to us about growing tea, tea production, and maintenance of the fields. As a self-proclaimed lover of tea, I was thrilled to learn so much about the plant that has provided so much comfort and cosy, familiar times for me. We took a tour of the grounds (see the picture at left) and surrounding woods, after which we had a fabulous, multi-course buffet lunch. Did I consider jumping ship and starting up my own tea farm or WWOOFing on one? You betcha! I'll be tucking that idea away for my post-fellowship plans... 

I'm finding that post-grad life has given me a fair amount of downtime outside of work, which means that I'm slowing down and appreciating the smaller things in life. The picture at right shows some of the simplicity that I've been appreciating recently. At top is tea, as it grows on the bush and ready to be picked. At bottom left is a tree tomato, a deliciously tart fruit that is excellent by itself and with yogurt, cheese, or oatmeal (I haven't yet exhausted all possible pairings). At bottom right is the bouquet of flowers we picked up yesterday; the flowers are now sitting in various bottles and glasses around our dining and living room. Other silver linings of post-grad freedom? I've found a used guitar and am learning to play! I love live music and am enjoying the task of learning something totally new. I'm finding that sitting with a cup of coffee and practicing a few chords is a beautiful way to wake up.

Juniper Kitchen

One of my favorite weekend activities has been getting together with the PiAf fellows and friends and doing a lazy brunch. In fact, my first full day here we went to a monthly brunch, called the Juniper Kitchen, held at the beautiful home of an Australian expat. My friend and fellow fellow Camille Pendley-- who incidentally made us a Southern-inspired brunch last weekend that I won't soon forget-- wrote a piece on the Juniper Kitchen, which has just been published in the New York Times' 'Bites' column! It's a great read and shows a snapshot of one of my favorite Nairobi pastimes. 

Between the Lines

I do a fair amount of reading for my job-- reports, budgets, budget narratives, log frames, concept notes, and proposals. Though I find myself sitting at my desk in Nairobi Monday through Friday, I spend 90% of my time mentally 680 miles away in Turkana County. The IRC runs two offices in Turkana, the largest and most northeastern of Kenya's counties, in Kakuma and Lodwar. In recent months, these two operations have absorbed thousands of refugees fleeing conflict in South Sudan. I had the privilege of teaching a unit on South Sudan at the leadership conference I worked at this summer. I think back to the misshapen map I would draw on the dry-erase board and the passionate discussions my high school students would have about the humanitarian crisis in the country. To be here, literally on the other side of it, is humbling and eye-opening. In many ways, the IRC's work is the frontline response these refugees meet when they cross into Kenya. Through my work, I get a factual and numbers-based understanding of what this looks like and the targeted ways the IRC's programs respond to the challenges. I haven't yet had the chance to visit Kakuma or Lodwar, but I work with the field staff daily to support their programs and ensure clear communication between them and the donors. One of my colleagues has written two pieces on the work of the IRC in response to the influx of refugees. You can read 'Twice a Refugee' and 'Silenced Minds: unshackling people with mental illness at Kakuma' on the IRC website. 

Human Needs Project

One aspect of Nairobi has proven particularly hard to reconcile, and that's the juxtaposition of wealth and poverty throughout the city. Junction is an American-style mall about a 45 minute walk from our apartment; complete with a fro-yo place, Century theaters, and Levis, it's strikingly reminiscent of shopping back home. Not 10 minutes from Junction though is Kibera, one of Nairobi's largest slums. Until this past weekend, I'm embarrassed to say, I'd been to Junction at least six times and to Kibera not once. That changed when a friend of Rebecca's offered to introduce us to the Human Needs Project on Sunday morning.

We met Rebecca's friend, an employee of the Human Needs Project, at a nearby coffee house, and she drove us into the slum, passing shops, churches, and stalls through rutted streets streaming with people to Kibera's main center. There, we found ourselves at the doorstep of the Human Needs Project, a community and town center. The vision of Danish actress Connie Nielsen, the HNP opened a mere three months ago and is already an impressive addition to Kibera. In just one building, it provides laundry facilities (both machine and hand-washing), male and female bathrooms complete with showers, classrooms, an internet cafe, a food-and-coffee cafe, and fresh water station where community members can fill up jerrycans with clean, safe water. The building sits on top of the borehole that started it all; when Connie completed filming a movie in Kibera, she asked the community if they wanted for anything and the reply was access to water. The HNP houses an impressive water filtration system that draws its source from an aquifer 300 meters deep and its inspiration from the rock-and-sand, gravity-driven filtration systems developed by the Romans. Now I'm no water engineer (in fact, I'm not any kind of engineer and last looked at a calculus textbook in high school) but I was in awe of how the HNP manages and maximizes the resources at its disposal. Everything about the building was innovative, from the plants that act as natural insect repellents to the gray-water that's recycled to the solar panels being installed on the roof. What's more, the founder insists that this be a place that is first and foremost owned by the community; thus community members must pay to use the facilities. It's staffed by residents of Kibera who are trained in skills that they can market to gain employment elsewhere in Nairobi. The HNP is designed to advance and support the potential of Kibera's residents: internet services are meant to be used to manage email, draft a resume or CV, and connect with employers; classes are held to give training in finance management and technical skills; women use laundry facilities to expand clothes-washing businesses. It's even lit up at night to provide security for those in the surrounding area. 

Over a cappuccino at the cafe, we discussed the challenges the HNP faces in its early stages. Some in the community voice skepticism about the building; it rises high above the surrounding aluminum-sheeted rooftops and is initially an intimidating presence. Some of the services prove to luxurious for community members. Our guide shared with us that for every 1 woman that uses the shower facilities, 12 men do the same. She explained that at 12 shillings (about 14 cents US), showers are an expensive commodity for women who must make their daily allowances support food, water, and other needs of the family. Men, she finds, are much more likely to use 12 shillings of their day's work for a shower on the way to or from work. Whether or not this reflects something about the gendered dimensions of money management, disposable time, or facility usage, the HNP is constantly brainstorming ways to reach out to the community and create a space that serves the potential and the needs of individuals. 

I left looking forward to my next visit to HNP and to seeing how it adapts in its first year. Ideally, if the project is successful it will be scaled up to other, similar areas in Nairobi and around the world. I'll admit, I raised an eyebrow when I first heard that a Hollywood actress had started a project in Kibera. But from everything the community members and staff said Connie makes a genuine and concerted effort to visit as often as possible and can be found sleeves rolled up, baking in the kitchen, cleaning in the bathrooms, and toiling away in the HNP office. A remarkable project with what looks like a bright future, HNP was well worth the visit and a wonderful introduction to Kibera. 

It also got me thinking about needs and how much in life I actually require to live. I'm as guilty as anyone of confusing 'need' and 'want': I 'need' a cup of coffee, some chocolate, new work clothes, a change of scene. I have what I truly need in life: my basics covered (food, water, shelter) and I'm blessed to have family and friends I love and that reciprocate. I've had gainful academic and professional opportunities that have been fulfilling and have supported my development. What struck me about the HNP was that it didn't profess a formula for meeting needs that was very different from what I would prescribe for myself. It sees the potential and not the poor in Kibera's communities, which is exactly how I want to be seen by those who support me-- for what I offer and my potential to grow.

Among the fields and falls

This weekend we had the opportunity to visit a Kenyan friend at her family's home just outside Nairobi. Her home is nestled in the hills that are also host to terraced tea fields, which we drove through to get to her house. After a sunny picnic outside on her lawn, we packed up and ventured to a waterfall near her home. A very steep climb downhill found us at the foot of a charming waterfall; we set up a second picnic at the foot of the waterfall, where we snacked and snoozed for the afternoon hours. The eucalyptus trees surrounding the falls reminded me so much of the parks in San Francisco. 

We didn't see much wildlife besides the ubiquitous farm animals; though, I did spot a chameleon in the grass while we were picnicking. It was smaller than I thought it would be, and it was quite comfortable being picked up and held. I was a huge fan of the Kratt brothers back in the day (stars of Kratts' Creatures and Zaboomafoo) and was thrilled with what my Kenyan hosts regarded as commonplace. I'd probably feel the same about the lizards and banana slugs in California. No, I didn't bring him home as a pet, but don't think I didn't think on it for a minute (after all, I did have banana slug pets at various points in my childhood).The peace and quiet of the day was a stark contrast to the noise and clamor of Nairobi; I was grateful for the respite, even if just for a few hours. 

Denis the Menace

Rebecca and I have named our apartment "Denis the Menace" for the oddities and quirks that are quickly making it feel like home. When I was anticipating this year abroad, I had absolutely no idea what to envision when I thought of my potential home-life. As this weekend marks the end of my first month in Nairobi, I thought I'd share a bit of the images that are becoming characteristic of 'home' here. We've met a man who sells flowers on one of the corners we pass on our walk home from work. Moses the Flower Man has provided the buds that brighten our living spaces. We've been using old bottles for vases; my favorite spot for our flowers is in the window overlooking the roundabout by our house. The windowsill gets great light that filters through the leaves and petals. I never grew up a coffee person, yet here I am waking up every morning to French press my Kenyan coffee. I savor the few minutes I get before work to sit at the window and catch up on emails and news from home over a beautiful and aromatic cup of hot coffee. When we get home from work, if I'm ambitious I'll go for a quick run but more often than not I snuggle up on one of our couches. There's nothing quite so cozy as a blanket draped on a couch. A few weekends back Rebecca and I bought a traditional Masai blanket to use in our living room. It's since settled as a pseudo-slipcover for one of the couches and suits the space quite well. I've been lucky to call a variety of the world's corners 'home' in the past few years, and this move to Nairobi will be the longest I've lived in one place in over four years. Only a month into my time here, I'm already feeling accustomed to and familiar with the home Rebecca and I share. I'm looking forward to settling in even more in the coming months.

"Service for a Year, Commitment for a Lifetime"

So goes the Princeton in Africa motto; it's what initially drew me to apply for the fellowship almost 365 days ago. I grew up through thirteen years of Catholic school-- my high school motto was "enter to learn, leave to serve"-- and I was drawn to service opportunities throughout college. It felt natural that I would choose to do a year of service following my completion of formal education. You'd think I'd had a comprehensive understanding of what 'service' means after all that schooling and experience, but you'd be mistaken. Surprised? I was, and am, too.

I've spent the better part of the last three weeks working at a 8-5 office job on a laptop blundering my way through Excel sheets and grant reports. It's been a constant learning-on-the-job experience, sometimes frustratingly and sometimes gratifyingly. Not that IRC didn't orient me of course; they did so quite intensely. But how the humanitarian field functions was something I held in such a snow-globe-utopian understanding, and I'm quickly finding that the cheap, plastic exterior has shattered to reveal a complicated world of competition, tight deadlines, high expectations, and constant communication. As one of two programs and grants fellows, I am responsible for reviewing grant reports from the field and sending them to the donors that sponsor the various projects IRC runs. Currently, I work on the northeastern region of Kenya, which has seen a large influx of South Sudanese refugees in the past few months. In the last three weeks, I've come to know in intimate detail the number of beneficiaries per program, the amount being spent on certain activities, the challenges each site faces, and the issues that are most pressing for some of Kenya's most remote communities. What I haven't come to know are the people that are behind the statistics and the reports: what makes them laugh, what makes them tense up, how the interact with each other, why and how they got to where they are, their hopes and anxieties about the future. Even my relationship to the IRC field staff, with whom I communicate regularly, is confined to email and Skype. Am I a 'people person'? Whatever makes you ask that?? 

While my gut reaction going into the humanitarian field was one that wanted to know people and their stories-- and felt that would inform how I could best support efforts-- I'm finding that I'm here to do a different job. Which brings me back to service. What I've found in my short time as a PiAf fellow with the International Rescue Committee is that the numbers do matter. They make a difference in accountability, in what projects get more funding or targeted support, in expressing the often desperate and always complicated circumstances at hand in clear terms to those who have the ability to support. The better the reporting, the stronger the relationship with the donor and the more authentically reality can be represented to those who are not living it. With that in mind, I've revisited my definition of service and am working at expanding my perspective on what it means to use my strengths, gifts, and experiences for a cause. Even if it's one that I still have not experienced with my own mind and heart. 

Spotted at Naivasha

Everyone knows that the Rift Valley Music Festival is the hottest late summer music ticket in town, and it's no surprise these tres chic and uber kool young folk were spotted at Naivasha. Don't recognize them? Let me introduce you... 

Rebecca is my partner in PiAf, my cubicle co-pilot, and my roommate extraordinaire. I'm so lucky to have landed a spot next to her this year. It's only the end of week two and I already feel so settled and at ease in my new life; it's definitely thanks to her! Rebecca just graduated from Northwestern University, but she too is a California native. She's walked through mud and rain with me to get fresh flowers for our apartment and weathers the sometimes-nervewracking walk home (there are many potholes and missing sidewalks... let's just say balance isn't my thing). She was spotted at Naivasha taking in the jaw-dropping acrobat acts on stage.

Next at bat is Sophia Stylanos, the mastermind of our Naivasha trip and Navigator Extraordinnaire. Sophia is spending this fellowship year putting her engineering background to use at Sanergy; she doesn't waste a minute exploring the city either! Sophia recently moved around the block from me and Rebecca, and we're hoping to get some good movie nights out of it... When asked about her favorite part of the Rift Valley Festival, Sophia said, "actually, the drive up here was the best part! There's nothing like a road trip to foster quality downtime with new friends." Right you are, Sophia. Hopefully many more adventures are in our future!

Pausing only for a second to snap this shot was Jayme Daniel, Sophia's counterpart at Sanergy and a proud Texas native. Too cool for school? Not this PiAf fellow! When she's not working full-time or exploring Nairobi, she's studying for the GMAT and applying to business school. Jayme's favorite part of the weekend? Getting together with other PiAf fellows from around Kenya! We had a great time eating PB&Js, making friends with neighboring camps, and looking out for hippos while just chilling by the lakeside. Jayme's looking forward to the next time we get up to Naivasha and explore some more. 

Pensive and taking in the scenery, Christina Goldbaum took a break from the festival to check out the pier and Lake Naivasha itself. Christina is spending her fellowship year at the BOMA Project in Nanyuki, which is about 3 hours north of Nairobi. Christina lives and works with another fellow, Eva Zenilman; I'm hoping to visit them sometime soon!

Looking like a festival natural, Maggie Cochrane came to Naivasha from Nyumbani Village, where she's serving for her fellowship year. Maggie is keeping  a great blog documenting her work, fun, and life experiences while in Kenya; I highly recommend checking it out! After the festival, Maggie came back to Nairobi with us and spent some time getting to see what life is like for a PiAf fellow in Kenya. 

Naivasha

I knew nothing about Lake Naivasha before going, and it's all I can think about since I left. The Lake is absolutely stunning; we set up our tent in the grassy field that sprawls down to the shore and could hear the hippos grazing late at night. (Yes, you did read that right. Yes, it is 'hippo' as in 'hippopotamus.' No, no I did not pet one, however much I wanted to). It was impressively dark when we arrived, so we didn't see the scenery until we woke up the next morning (see the sunrise at left). Rebecca and I traveled with two other Princeton in Africa fellows living in Nairobi and met up with six more at the campground; we hadn't all seen each other since orientation in June. It was such a homecoming, simply to hang out with nine other young women who are going through a parallel experience this year. Though we only met for

four or five days at orientation, there was an immense comfort in seeing people who know you and can relate to your exact context. We had a great time lounging by the lake, drinking up the sunshine, and swapping stories of our fellowship experiences. The festival was such a great opportunity for us to relax together, take in some truly great artists, and see some more of the country we now call home. 

Camping Classics

This time last week, 13 young ex-pats and I were crammed into a matatu, a white, VW-van-sized vehicle, headed for Lake Naivasha and the Rift Valley Music festival. What should have been a 2-hour road trip turned into a grueling 6-hour quest for campground and quiet. Recipe for disgruntled youths? Not in the slightest! When we finally pulled up in the van to the field where we'd be camping, we were thrilled to have some fresh air and quiet. Well, as quiet it can be with a music festival going on next door till 6AM. We set up camp around midnight (thank you Mom and Dad for years of camping experience that prepared me for the all-important task of setting up a tent) and fell into beds exhausted. Rebecca, my roommate and co-worker and compatriot PiAf fellow, and I shared a one-person tent and one sleeping bag. Why? Why for the thrill of traveling challenges of course! In actuality, I didn't happen drag a tent 10,000 miles and she didn't happen to haul a sleeping bag. Lucky thing we did think to pack a generous box of PB&Js before leaving our apartment though... we were set for the weekend with this classic camping culinary staple (see photo above). 

A Day in the Life...

... of a Princeton in Africa IRC-Kenya fellow comes to you fresh from my first week of work! Only five days in, and Rebecca and I have developed a steadfast routine. The photos that follow are snapshots of our day-to-day work life. 

Rebecca and I leave for work before 8AM and take a taxi to the International Rescue Committee Kenya office, about a 15 minute drive away. Nairobi is notorious for its congested traffic, so our commute varies on a daily basis. I sneaked the picture at left of Rebecca greeting one of our usual drivers on our way to work this past Friday. We end work around 5PM and usually walk home (depending on how late it is or how dark). It is a strenuous 30-minute walk uphill so that by the time we get home we're looking to collapse onto our couch before turning to dinner. 

Depending on our work schedule and daily agenda, we take an hour lunch around 1PM. Our office is located in an area of the city called Upper Hill, and there are a host of restaurants, eateries, and roadside stands to choose from. About once a week, we spring for the lunch at a cafe around the corner, but it's on the pricier side for our wallet-wise budget. Most days, we eat at "the veggie tent", a buffet-style lunch tent in the parking lot across the street from our office that offers a variety of vegetable dishes, usually paired with rice, chapati (a thick, round, flat-style bread), or potatoes. The plate at left is a typical example of such a lunch, though the helpings are so large that I've only been opting for one or two dishes with rice. 

Once we get home, Rebecca and I cook dinner; sometimes we'll stop on the walk home at the nearby supermarket or the fruit and vegetable stands across the street. I've found a 'new' (to me) cheese called halloumi, which we've been frying and cooking in various forms. After dinner we catch up on email or watch television, then hit the hay for an early night.

Standard Touristing

This morning, my roommate, a friend, and I trekked out at the healthy hour of 8:30 to do some sightseeing around Nairobi. Our early-bird-ness played to our advantage as the roads, typically choked with traffic, were clear and we arrived at our first stop in no time. The Karen Blixen museum is housed in, well, the house of Karen Blixen, author of Out of Africa. Blixen, a native of Denmark, lived in the house from 1917-1931 and ran the plantation's coffee business as well as managed the land. She is remembered for her insistence that a school be established for the children of the plantation workers (most of whom were Kikuyu) as well as her aptitude for treating illness among the communities that worked and lived on the land. Our guide remarked that Blixen was admired among local and colonialist communities for her determination and compassion. After leaving Africa in 1931 due to bankruptcy and illness, Karen became an established author in Europe; though she wrote under various male pseudonyms (the most well-known being Isak Dinesen). The 1985 film Out of Africa features Meryl Streep as Karen; a clip of the film's intro can be seen below. 

 After a refreshing turn about the sprawling gardens and woods of the Blixen museum, we headed for the David Sheldrick Wildlife Trust, home to an elephant orphanage. The trust is located in the grounds of Nairobi National Park, a sprawling savannah-like area that is home to a variety of wildlife including ostrich (we saw one on the drive in!), lions, warthogs (in kiswahili it's pumba!), gazelle, hyena, and cheetahs. The wildlife trust adopts baby elephants who have been orphaned, many by poaching, and raises them until they can be independent, about 3 years old. 

We had the immense pleasure of visiting the elephants during a feeding hour. You may be asking yourself, 'is that a picture of a 2-year-old elephant being bottle-fed?' Why yes, yes it is. There were 22 elephants brought out for 'playtime' and feeding, the youngest of whom were 2 months old. They were absolutely fascinating to watch, and, just as the keeper told us, each one had a distinct personality. Or elephant-ality, I suppose. Either way they were downright adorable. 

The keepers of the wildlife trust care for the elephants and acclimate them to independence in the wild until the elephants are 3 years old. Because many of these animals have suffered loss, are quite vulnerable, and need constant care the keepers sleep with the elephants every night. At right, you can see them romping about; they also came right up to the fence and seemed to enjoy being petted by ecstatic tourists. 

No Place Like a New Home

After 34 hours of travel (and a missed flight and re-routed stop through Istanbul), I've finally settled in my new home in Nairobi! I am living with another Princeton in Africa fellow, Rebecca, in the IRC guesthouse; our charming apartment is on the fourth floor of a quiet complex. It might be the jet-lag talking, but I felt at home the minute I walked through the door. Moving is never an effortless thing, and this move to Nairobi brings with it the most stable living situation I've had in four years. I have loved the exhilaration of moving to school in Los Angeles, to Rwanda, to study abroad, to LA again, to New York, and the occasional stop back to San Francisco in between. At the same time, it's been exhausting packing and feeling comfortable, only to move onto the next place. I look forward to getting to know this city and having the breathing space to feel settled for a while. More pics to come (and maybe even some stories of culinary efforts)! 

Kenya is located in what is known as East Africa (other countries in this regional grouping include Uganda, Rwanda, Burundi, and Tanzania). Its coastal regions have been highlighted in international news recently because of increased insecurity posed by militant groups and extremists. Many of the country's refugees come from Somalia, which shares Kenya's northeast border. 

Nairobi sits just below the equator and is at an altitude of 5,450 feet. This makes for cool nights and no mosquitos (for this reason, malaria is not a threat in Nairobi). It's a city of over 3 million and is considered an international and regional hub for trade, business, politics, international relations, and cultures. The teeming metropolis sits next to some of the most stunning national parks in Kenya and is in close proximity to the Great Rift Valley and many lakes. 

With My Own Eyes

As this is an introductory post, I believe some context-setting is in order. I am currently slightly jet-lagged (though about to be so much more so) in transit to my year of service as a Princeton in Africa fellow with the International Rescue Committee in Nairobi, Kenya. This blog will serve as a forum for me to share my experiences of Kenya and my perspectives on the challenges, issues, and triumphs I discover. The title of this post conveys two things: 1) that this blog represents solely my views and in no way reflects the views of Princeton in Africa or the International Rescue Committee and 2) my motivation and impetus for moving 10,000 miles from all semblance of familiarity for 12 months. I was blessed to have had a rigorous academic experience at Occidental College and was challenged and empowered by my course of study, Diplomacy and World Affairs. I was given opportunities to expand my horizons by participating in the Oxy-in-Rwanda volunteer program, study abroad (Paris, France), and the Oxy at the UN program where I worked for the Rwandan Mission to the UN. The intellectual stimulation I gained through classes, various research projects, and conversation with my peers highlighted the complexities of the 21st-century world. While I will be forever grateful for the academic education I accomplished, I found myself at the end of four years frustrated by an inability to call upon authentic observations about the issues I was debating in the classroom. I completed my undergraduate education with the conviction that in order to make the maximum contribution and the most positive impact on the issues I'm most passionate about, I needed to see more of the world and its critical issues with my own eyes. 

I do not know what this next year holds and how it might change me, but I do know that I have an incredible support network of friends, family, and the Princeton in Africa (PiAf) community. I encourage anyone reading this to learn more about PiAf by visiting its website. I will spend the next year working for the International Rescue Committee's Kenya office; I have admired IRC's work for years and am thrilled to learn from and contribute to its programs and staff. You can learn more about IRC at their website. It is with excitement, apprehension, compassion, and joy that I conclude this first post; at my next I'll be reporting from my new home in Nairobi!