Mt. Kenya

As previously stated, I spent this last weekend treking up Mt. Kenya; the highest mountain in Kenya and the second highest on the continent, after Kilimanjaro of course. Our group included myself, Cameron, Crystal, Christina and our porters and guide (two volunteers dropped out at the last minute for fear of cold, obviously not Canadians).

Our guide was Steven; a Nairobi native who has been guiding trips on Mt. Kenya for two years, and portering for five years before that. We were also provided with three porters for the trip. Porters carry all of our personal and group gear as well as make us delicious meals (chapati, stew, chicken, omeletts), snacks (popcorn, biscuits, fresh fruit) and chai. The whole concept of hiring a porter seemed a bit weird to me, as I am accustomed to, and fully capable of carrying my own gear. But it is rather common place here, in fact I think they would have died laughing if I said I wanted to carry my gear (but I was a little envious as they divided up the gear at the beginning of the trip, I really felt uninvolved!) Hiring porters also provides jobs here, which I can support. And in all honesty, it was nice to only carry a day pack.

So the adventure started in Dagoretti on Thursday night... I spent the night at the Sons of Manaseh Orphanage with Cameron and Crystal, since we were leaving so early the next morning. I got to meet some of the kids there and see how my fellow volunteers were living (they have a pretty cushy set up!) We were up the next morning by five to catch a matatu to Karen then a cab to Nairobi then another matatu to Nanuyki - a tiring journey by itself!

In the charming town of Nanuyki (read; busy, crowded, overwhelming) we had an uninspiring lunch then headed out to the mountain (by yet another matatu). Finally at the mountain, we were ready to begin hiking when the park guard informed us there were two elephants just up the trail... being the silly North Americans that we are, we all whipped out our cameras and started off in the direction he pointed. "Oh, elephants are dangerous in the wild", we soon learned. They are very fast and very large and surprising one in the bushes is apparently not so fun for the surpriser. So we waited as the guard fired off his rifle into the air and we watched the bushes shaking as the elephants retreated into the forest. We were, of course, disappointed in the lack of a photo-op, but I suppose it was for the best.

Our first day of hiking saw us travel nine kilometers to Old Moses camp, located at 3300 meters above sea level (the gate, where we started hiking is at 1900 meters) Old Moses camp is a lovely little dwelling with tin walls, dusty bunk beds and a full compliment of resident rats. Nevertheless, it was a welcome relief from the sun and the flush toilets and running water were a pleasant surprise.

The next day we set out early to conquer the 12 kilometers and 900 meters elevation gain to reach the Shipton's camp located right below the summit at 4200 meters. Shipton's camp is similar in structure to Old Moses however the altitude means is was freezing - even by my standards! For bed we decided the best thing to do would be to spoon (okay, I had to convince everyone a little, but it was so worth it!). I pushed two beds together and made us a small next out of mattresses. We slept with one sleeping bag beneath us and three on top of us, and two nalgenes of boiling water at our feet - it was luxurious! Okay, it may have been a bit over overkill, since by midnight we were all stripping off sweaters.

Our summit attempt had us leaving camp at 3:30am to try to reach the summit by sunrise at 6:30am. Our goal was to reach Pt. Lenana at 4895 meters above sea level (Pt. Lenana is actually the third highest peak, the other two are unreachable without technical gear/ knowledge). Climbing in the dark was exhilarating! The stars were shining and the moon was bright, with an icy ring in the sky surrounding it. It was actually almost bright enough to not even need my headlamp (but I used it anyway, kinda like a security blanket). The day before I had found the hiking a bit more tiresome than normal (which I blamed on the altitude), but this morning I was filled with adrenalin and felt I could just bound up the mountain. It was amazing!

We climbed for just under an hour before reaching the snow pack, which thanks to a fierce wind for the last few days, was now little more than an ice sheet. After traveling a short distance on this ice, our guide made the very wise decision that it was too dangerous to continue and that we would unfortunately be unable to reach the peak. It was quite a disappointment to be honest, but I'm sure it was the right decision, I trusted Steven's judgment.

Back at the hut a little early, we waited outside to watch the sunrise from below while the smell of our breakfast cooking wafted from the kitchen. Stephen told us how less than a year ago, he had been hired to guide the police up the mountain to recover the body of a tourist who slipped and fell while trying to reach the summit - we all felt a little better about turning around early!

Two days of hiking later, and we were back in Nairobi, feeling overwhelmed by the hustle and bustle of this city after having been out in the tranquility of Mt. Kenya. We were filthy and tired and dusty and sweaty and stiff and sore, but feeling good... accomplished! It was a treat to watch my fellow volunteers, none of whom have ever hiked before, feeling so good about the trip (even if on the surface their comments were mostly about how tired/sore/dirty they felt). Although a bit touristy (I have yet to meed a Kenya who has climbed Mt. Kenya, other than porters and guides) Mt. Kenya was definitely a worthwhile addition to my Kenya experience.

VCT

I'm not sure if it's just my cultural illiteracy here or what, but I'm am encountering great difficulties in reading facial expressions. At home I consider myself a fairly socially intelligent person - able to read people and situations with some degree of accuracy. Here I find I'm completely lost, even in situations which should be relatively simple to read. I'm sure it is likely a myriad of factors ranging from the fact that I don't speak the language, to the simple fact of physical differences in faces and expressions... I'm still lost.
This unfortunate social disability was illuminated today when I realized that I recognized a facial expression immediately - the first time in what seems like a very long time (but in reality is only about two weeks). I was paired with the nurse in the VCT/CCC (Voluntary Counselling and Testing/ Complete Care Clinic) room today. Here is where people can come for a voluntary, free and confidential HIV test. The CCC aspect follows patients who are known HIV positive providing them with counselling, advice, nutritional supplements and, when needed, ARVs (Anti-Retrovials). All services and drugs are provided free of charge (amazing!)
One of the first clients of the day was a mother of six children, four are her own, and two are orphaned by AIDS and she has taken them in. This mother is known HIV positive but doing well. She came today to have her newest child tested. The child is almost two years old and her mother and father have both now passed away from AIDS. It took all three of us to hold the poor girl so we could prick her finger and take two drops of blood for the test (the test is done similar to a blood sugar test, with drops of blood from the finger. It takes about ten minutes to finish.) Kids are the same anywhere... she kicked and screamed and tried to bite, then pouted for a few minutes afterward, holding up her finger as a reminder of how we had wronged her.
Ten minutes later... the mother seemed so calm, my inability to read her expression left me thinking that she was disinterested or not that concerned... but she is mother, I could not have been more wrong. When the nurse finally announced that the test was negative, relief was written all over her face, and even I picked up on it. The little girl couldn't have cared less, already distracted by her brother; but her mother looked filled with hope for this child. It was really beautiful.

Anyway VCT was terribly interesting, although it feels a bit weird to be so objectively interested in something that is such a personal and emotional moment for many people. The nurse assures me that Kenyan's don't have any fears surrounding HIV or AIDS and that there is no stigma here. She tells me they don't have to convince people to get tested because people just do it on their own. I'm not quite sure I can quite believe that, maybe it's just one of those curious things they feel white people want to hear.

On a lighter note... most of the people here cannot say my name. I think it is the 'ls' combination in the middle but it looks almost physically painful when people try to say it. They also can't remember it, which is not unusual, and besides, I can't remember half their names. At any rate, one lady has been really making a valiant effort to pronounce it, but today seemed to be the last straw. She has announced to most of the staff that from now on, I can be referred to as Wajiko (wa-gee-koh). Wajiko means "daughter of a Kikuyi" which is the tribe my host family belongs to (and, coincidentally, the incumbant President, Mr. Kubaki). At any rate, the staff found it so wildly entertaining that I think it has a chance of sticking - we'll see.

Also today, my host mother Grace and I stopped by the water office to find out why the water pump to their area hasn't been fixed yet (water is pumped from a large tank in town to a large tank in each yard, but the town pump has been broken for over two weeks and the residents are having to find other means of getting water, which can be expensive). As she was furiously debating them, I picked out the words "muzungu" white girl, and "bini" daughter. The two water men looked concerned. Finally Grace laughed and the men looked relieved. She turned to me and explained that she told them if they didn't fix the water soon her white dauther would turn black and they would be responsible! Apperently they were actually concerned that this was a real possibility!

Well, I am off to climb Mt. Kenya this weekend, the second highest peak in Africa! Haha, I am woefully unprepared as I left most of my mountain apparel in Canada (not feeling a strong need for my down-filled jacked and long johns in East Africa). I have managed to scrounge some fleece and wool from the second-hand market in town... I'm sure I'll be fine! Wish me luck!

Kelsey Aaron

Ngong Healthcare Centre

I have now been volunteering at the Ngong Healthcare Centre for just over a week. I would love to say that I'm working there, but really the term working would be a bit of an exaggeration. Mostly I follow the nurses around and pester them with a million questions. They don't seem to mind though... the nurses are all really friendly and seem to be wildly entertained when I tell them about how different hospitals in Canada are (and life in general).

The hospital itself is a government run facility housed in a fairly austere building in the hills above the town itself. Being government run they are lucky in that they have a constant source of funding - this however doesn't always translate into a constant source of supplies. Medications frequently run out and patients are forced to supply their own medications from a pharmacy in town (at a cost to the patient). As well the sterilization machine has been out of service for a week so there are no dressing kits and the birthing kits are quickly running out. I keep asking what will happen when there are no more birthing kits and the replies seem to run along the lines of "we'll make do".

During the day patients are seen on an outpatient basis by clinic officers (which from what I can tell are sort of like Residents in Canada, but there is only one supervising doctor for a number of facilities). Patients pay 30 shillings to be seen which includes the consultation as well as any procedures or medications needed. 30 shillings translates to roughly $0.50 CAD but still it is out of reach for many patients.

Other services at the hospital are offered free of charge. These include VCT (Voluntary Counselling and Testing, for HIV), CCC (Complete Care Clinic, also for HIV/AIDS), TB clinic, diabetes clinic, nutrition, physiotherapy, pre-natal clinic, Family Planning Clinic, PMTCT (Prevention of Mother To Child Transmission, of HIV), maternity and CWC (Child Welfare Clinic, providing vaccinations and counselling for mothers).

As well there is a ward for inpatients which includes six beds. Most of my days at the hospital the wards have been completely empty, although today there were three children admitted all with malaria and severe dehydration.

I have been spending most of my time working in the Pre-natal/ Family Planning clinics and in the Child Welfare Clinic. Although I'm fairly useless in counselling (since my Swahili is pretty much nil), I am helping with assessing mothers and babies, as well as providing medications and vaccinations. I'm finding the work fascinating, even the maternity ward, which in Canada I try to avoid at all costs.

On my first day in the Child Welfare clinic the nurse was showing me the schedule for child vaccinations. I told her I had never given a BCG vaccine (a vaccine for Tuberculosis which leaves a scar on the arm). All the nurses were shocked that we don't routinely vaccinate our children for TB so I tried to explain that although TB exists in isolated populations in Canada, it is not endemic and so now a threat to the general population. They all looked shocked, and quickly pulled up my sleeve to check for my BCG scar. When they couldn't find it they had a quick deliberation in Swahili and then quickly turned back to me and offered to vaccinate me right then and there. That has started an ongoing discussion of the differences not only between health care in Kenya and Canada but also between the types of conditions and diseases we see. After describing many of the conditions we see in Canada (heart disease, hypertension, diabetes, obesity, etc) the nurses all nodded knowingly and one stated "oh, rich diseases".

Overall, the first two days at the hospital I was overwhelmed by the differences between home and here. Now, as I am learning more, I am finding more and more similarities; although the facility is sparse and the supplies limited, the knowledge and ideal for care is very similar.

Today marks the one week point of my landing in Kenya... it feels like much longer. Surprisingly I am not feeling nearly as homesick or as culture shocked as I expected.

Since Wednesday I have been living just outside of the town of Ngong about 50km south of Nairobi. The town, I am told, has about 57,000 residents, many spread out in the surrounding hills. "Ngong" apperently means "knuckles" as it is said to be the hills where God sat down to rest and left knuckle impressions in the soil. The town sits on the edge of the Great Rift Valley and is such a beautiful landscape of rolling hills... lush green fields demarcated by the bright red soil.

I am living with a host family which includes my host mother Grace and her husband Stanley. Their 18 year old son is away at boarding school, but I am told I may get to meet him in a few weeks. The family also includes the cats Aju and Terror... Terror being a kitten and somewhat rambunctious. Then there is Bobo, the little girl from down the road who comes over after school to do her homework until her parents get home. They are a lovely and very welcoming family.

I have started work at the hospital in Ngong... I'm at a loss as to how to describe the experience so far. I think it will take a little longer to know what to write. For now I'll say it will be a monstrous adjustment as well as a learning curve of epic proportions.

Overall, my experience here so far has been much less intrusive than the last time I came to Africa. Two years ago I was in Ghana and I expected this experience to be very similar; I am now realizing that Ghana and Kenya are indeed a continent apart! In Ghana I felt constantly on display and my well refined North American personal bubble was intruded upon on a regular basis. Here, although I attract a lot of stares (especially now that I am out in a rural area, away from the hustle of Nairobi) I feel comfortable. In Ghana I was constantly hissed at and marriage proposals were hurled at me from across the street; here in Kenya I seem to mostly just attract a small children's chorus of "how are you?" wherever I go. Of course some things are the same; in Ghana I was "eyvoo" (white girl) here I am "muzungo" (white girl).

I'm off today to the Giraffe Centre a few kilometers outside of town. Apparently we get to feed the giraffes... obviously I'm thrilled.

Kelsey Aaron

Kenya!

Just a very quick note to say that I have arrived safely in Nairobi after a very long but mostly uneventful journey. Nairobi is neither as hot as I expected nor as frightening as the BBC and Lonely Planet (they called it "Nairobbery") would have me believe. Let the adventure begin...

Lac La Biche

Sunset over Lac La Biche and the aptly named "Big Dock"... just because I wanted to add a picture.

Just turn around and I'm gone again!

Anyone out there remember the glory days of The Littlest Hobo? Oh the wonder of London the German Shepard! Was there no plot she couldn't spoil? No wrong she couldn't right? If you have no clue what I'm talking about, you should Google "The Littlest Hobo", you should also check out the theme song... a skippy little beat from which the title of this small blog is taken. I don't know who sings it.

I loved The Littlest Hobo as a kid. My favorite part is the end when whomever the dog has just saved starts talking about what a wonderful life the two of them will have together. But London just walks away, pausing briefly to glance over her shoulder... no comfortable life can hold her, the whole world is her home.

I'm feeling a bit hobo-esq lately. At the end of the summer I left my comfortable little apartment in Lac La Biche and my full time job and with it a lovely reliable income. I started my wanderings by driving my wee Hyundai Accent from Calgary Alberta to St. Catharine's Ontario - crossing the borders of three provinces and four states. The drive found me attempting to smuggle dangerous lilies into the US, crossing the geographical center of North America (in Rugby, North Dakota, if you're interested) and being mistakenly referred to drug rehab in Grand Forks Minnesota... but that is another tale.

From the concrete oasis of Southern Ontario I flew to Budapest, Hungary to spend two weeks volunteering with Habitat for Humanity, followed by six weeks of wandering aimlessly through Eastern Europe. Don't get me wrong, I'm a big fan of wandering... but the whole trip felt less than fulfilling. Perhaps it was because I had done it with very little forethought, or because I had left everything and everyone so suddenly. Or maybe (and very likely) it was because the trip was mostly an attempt to shock myself back into feeling fully alive; it was a reaction to the prospect of living a completely common life.

At any rate... I then found myself back in Southern Ontario, somewhat in hiding and wondering what to do with my life. So after many hours on the internet and a few more arguably rash decisions, I again committed myself to going to a foreign country. A quick stop back in Alberta to see family and friends and top up the bank account and that brings me to this moment right now.

Tomorrow I will get on a plane to Nairobi, Kenya to spend two months volunteering in a medical clinic and then a month traveling around. I don't know exactly what I expect from this adventure, I'm trying to keep my expectations minimal. I am hoping at least to discern if working in developing countries and aid work is something I could see myself doing on a more permanent basis. Maybe I will meet some good people, make a few friends and learn something about myself... but well, I guess I'm getting into the realm of expectations now.

If nothing else I'd like to see some elephants. I really like elephants.