It’s been eight months now since I left for Nairobi in a whirlwind of excitement, and four and a half months since my return to Toronto. To say that time flies would be an understatement at this point. I had hoped to have this blog going long ago but circumstances proved a little difficult. While in Kenya I was living in ‘the bushes’, as they became fondly known, needless to say it was an area which was not very conducive to posting blogs on the internet. In my last week and upon my return home, after having braved very few illnesses overseas, my immune system decided it had had about enough. I was sick for a couple of months, which led to a piling up of assignments and readings for classes resulting in a neglect of these blog assignments. Now, though a little late, they are ready to go! Looking back on the notes I made, scanning through hundreds of photos and reflecting on past experiences has actually been a lot of fun. So here goes entry number one.
When I stepped off the plane onto the Nairobi asphalt, the early morning held a foggy familiarity that welcomes me every time I land at Jomo Kenyatta. Standing on the asphalt waiting for the shuttle bus to arrive to deliver us to the long line awaiting us at customs, I looked out across the vast expanse of concrete, beyond the wire fence separating this international space from the national. The flat grassland dotted with acacia trees and the stark contrast between the red earth and green shrubbery, conjured up memories of previous arrivals. I knew it was only a matter of time until the sounds and scents of Nairobi too, became apparent. Yet this time I felt a greater amount of anticipation then I ever had before. To see old friends as well as experience something entirely new and exciting. I felt that this time would be different from anything I had ever done previously in Kenya.
The drive from the airport, around the city and up through the rolling hills towards Ngong was just like I’d remembered. It’s amazing what the body’s senses are capable of. Probably the thing that brings back the most memories for me is the smells. Whether it’s the early morning traffic jams giving off an immense amount of exhaust, the small garbage piles at the side of the road set alight or the most intense smell of all, that of the dry red earth, these smells bring with them a sense of relaxation. My first stop on this adventure was back to Huruma Children’s Home which had been my first introduction to Kenya in 2006.
Huruma is home to over one hundred children who have been abused, orphaned or abandoned. Coming back to Huruma is always fun. Though there are always changes, Huruma’s strength is in the children who have been a part of the home for the past twenty years. The first time I stayed at Huruma I met a little girl named Numyuk. Her skin was marked by burns most likely inflicted by the lit end of a cigarette. Although she was about a year old at the time she could barely hold herself up in a sitting position. Her eyes were always glazed over and she hardly ever made a sound. When I returned the following year I found a very different Numyuk within the walls of Huruma. She was walking, talking and her crooked smile lit up her face in a way I’d never seen before. The transformation was amazing. On that second trip I met a young boy called Nicodemus. Nicodemus had arrived at Huruma just a few days before I had and was suffering from a severe eye infection because of abuse. He was quiet and in pain and for some reason decided that among all of the strangers within this new home, he would take me as his friend. Our friendship was based on laughter really. With him speaking very little English and me speaking even less Swahili, we depended on the use of actions to get us through our days.
While I was there it became my responsibility to take him to the hospital so that his eye could be surgically removed and to ensure that his treatment and recovery went well. Having this be my responsibility still amazes me to this day. I wasn’t a nurse, or a doctor, a social worker or knowledgeable in rehabilitation. I was a student. I filled a gap that a support staff should have filled, but with limited staff and resources Huruma had no one else but me to fill this role. It made for a few difficult weeks but Nicodemus and I made the most of it. Trips to the doctors for checkups always started with chai (tea) and a mandaze (donut) and ended with fries at the restaurant in town. When I left, we had begun to prepare him to re-enter the school system at Huruma’s primary school. When I stepped out of the car in June I immediately began my search for the quiet boy who had been my closest friend in 2007. Equipped with my new knowledge of Kiswahili and pictures from my last visit I was ready to see my quiet friend. Only what I found was a now eleven year old boy who; was fully involved in the home’s activities, performed well in school, had many friends and a great knowledge of English! To see his progression was amazing. Over the next few days I was brought up to date on the rest of the changes in the home and began preparing for the actual purpose of my being in Kenya this time.
When I told Mama Zipporah, the founder of Huruma, that I would be doing an internship at Mully Children’s Family (MCF) for the next three months she was excited. She had been to the Ndalani location and immediately set about showing me just how far my journey would take me on a map she pulled out from under her chair cushion. (This cushion is the protector of all things important in Huruma: keys, maps, a few pieces of paperwork. It’s all there, hidden under a four inch piece of foam.) She began telling me how their own medical clinic had been modeled after the one she saw at MCF, and how their new shamba (garden) project had also been started with MCF’s successes in mind. I had already heard so many things about MCF’s success, but seeing the way that Mama spoke of it and how eager she was for me to go and bring back any advice from my experiences there, really got me excited. So after about a week of familiar surroundings in the heart of the Ngong Hills, I set out again for Nairobi to meet Jamil and head off to MCF.
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