Email No. 12: April 1, 2005 / Journal Entry

Hey Fam,

The following isn't exactly a letter, but rather a cut and paste of my journal entry for yesterday. So I ask you to please excuse the grammar, incomplete and run on sentances... ALL of it. =0) I just thought it might be interesting..

. interesting day today that reminded me of both what i love and hate about this country. It is a beautiful place. And the people, especially the older people are warm and welcoming. I am beginning to feel as if people recognize me as belonging to my neighborhood and a part of it's small community. This morning, the dala dala that goes by my house whenever it isn't raining gave me a lifti to the dala stand. Curtesy of the mama that was in charge of the troop on children in the back of it. Very nice. Reminded me a bit of being in Ndwika, where all of the mamas take care of you and won't let anything bad happen to you. Took a deep breath and enjoyed my very existence in the hot and sweaty dala dala. Twenty minutes later in another dala ride I was witness to something that made my heart and soul cry out and ask why? As I got off the dala and everyone is standing around to pay, an old crippled, half blind man, scrambles off the dala, yelling at this late teens, or maybe twenty something year old boy, that's actually dressed prety nicely. It turns out that the boy had stolen the old man's money out of his pocket, 10,000 shillings worth. That's actually quite a bit of money. I would be upset if I lost 10,000. The boy returned the money and then hurried off before anyone else could figure out what had really happened. It hurt me to watch that. Why is it something like that has to happen that makes me lose a bit of faith just as I'm finding myself enjoying my naked existence here? I felt as if the boy was stealing from my ideal as to watch this country is as he tried to steal the money from the old man.

Maybe the problem resides in the youth of this country just now. There is no work. There are not a lot of prospects of a better life. What the heck does one do after Secondary School? The youth are just sitting around bored, living off their parents, and provide entertainment for themselves through making jabs at the young girls as they walk down the street. After two and a half years here, and four months of walking down the same street everyday, I am still a novelty to these youth. I am still looked at as a piece of meat. I cannot leave my house without being sexually harrassed. The youth need to be empowered as they are the problem, which is rather scary as they are this country's very existence in tomorrow's world.

And then, there are some, who actually want get to know you. For a lot of them, all they want is for you to stop and acknowledge them. To have a conversation. The same boys sit on the same corners every day. Stop and ask one question and they'll recognize you forever and help you out in any way possible.

I miss educated women here. Besides my peace corps friends, there are very few. It's taken me two years to realize that they are the really the only thing missing out of my life from America. Where are the girls my age? At home, with their children and babies. I work in the town, so I don't see them. There are a few there, but sadly most of them are forced into prostitution or seeking those types of friendships that I am constantly giving excuse after excuse to avoid with the more powerful men of this country, meaning those with at least a motorbike, the money to buy you a few beers, and a flashy new phone. So, I arrive home tonight to find my guard here, willing to help me out with my recurrant water problem, and the dala boys all frantically looking for my memory stick. Anything to make me happy. And then I remember what I love about being here: those friendships that I am able to forge after something as simple as a conversation, sprung out of circumstances of the moment. My guard sits outside all night and to the best of my knowledge, doesn't sleep on the job and seems genuinely worried for my well being, and with no complaints. Yet, I know and tell by looking at his frail body that his life is so much harder than anything I have ever been able to imagine and yet he always comes with a smile. This is the best part of living, the moments in your life that make you question if you really do know the way the whole system works just when you think you've finally got it figured out.

.... the morning after the commotion. One thing that I didn't go into detail about yesterday, which I know contributed to my overall mood and the resulting introspective thought process is the fact that I lost my jump drive (memory stick/ flash drive, whatever you want to call it) yesterday. Through pure stupidity on my part, it wasn't stored in a secure place in my bag and fell out sometime during all of my comings and goings of the day. Frantic, I retraced my steps, describing this tiny black piece of plastic to everyone that would listen. After seeing the old man nearly get robbed on the dala dala I was actually pleasantly surprised as to how many people stopped to actually listen and search for it with me. Hours later, I gave up and went home. On my way home I ran into the guard of the VSO volunteer that lives near me, and him seeing me in intense conversations with anyone who would listen asked me what was wrong. I explained the problem and described the item to him, but I doubted that he had ever even used a computer before and therefore would have not a clue as to what I was talking about. This morning, I woke up to a "hodi" and there was Josepha, the guard smiling at me, asking me to describe the jump drive yet again and when I was done, mirraculously pulled it out of his pocket. It had fallen out of my bag when I got out of the dala dala at the hospital the day before, where some teenage boys picked it up. Having no idea what it was, they tried to play with it, but found it wasn't very exciting and just held onto it. Josepha actually took the time to ask the dala dala people as to where I had gotten off the dala the day before, retrace my steps and go looking for an item that he really couldn't even describe very well. Convinced the boys with a 1000 shilling bribe a piece to give it to him to give it back to me. Yet another event that is helping me to build upon my faith in people bit by bit.

love to you all! Jess