Farewell, Kigali...

Tell me, does it move you?
Does it soothe you?
Does it fill your heart and soul?"
-Hanson

So here we sit at the Bourbon Café for one last evening coffee on my last evening here in Rwanda. It seems like we just landed here in the land of a thousand hills. True to character, I have completely fallen head over heels for this country in the very heart of Africa.

I never intended at leave Kenya at all this summer, but now that I’ve spent this week here in Rwanda, I feel like I was never not coming here. This entire Africa experience just seems like it fell into place so easily that I feel like maybe I was just meant to come here. I realize how cheesy and corny this sounds. I cringe to think that anyone reading must just think “Oh geez… she had another exciting day… things are pretty, people are nice…yes, we get it, you are lucky, get over it already!!” But honestly, every experience, every moment has been just filled with so much pure joy that I just can’t help
gushing about every silly second of every day.

This trip has been the crowning jewel on the entire summer experience. Shelby and I are like, the perfect travel companions. We agree on EVERYTHING. What time to wake up. When to go to bed. How we should do our hair. How much we should tip. Which books to read. Where to eat. What to order. We split meals all the time because our tastes are exactly the same. We haven’t had so much as a single eye-roll or argument or cross word. We really didn’t know each other too well before we got on the plane, so we’re pretty lucky things have turned out so well. In just 5 days, we have so many inside jokes and funny memories, It feels like we’ve known each other forever.

We’ve done an amazing job of challenging each other’s fears, but never pushing too hard. For instance (and I’ve left this out until after the fact so to not terrify my mother!!) : the moto-taxis in Kigali. Now, as much as I’m willing to hop on an airplane to a foreign land without so much as a second though, for the most part, I’m a huge wimp. I’m scared of so many things that it’s a wonder I leave the house in the morning. Getting mugged, throwing up, catching a tropical illness in general, extreme sports, any animal that can bite, all of these things scare me near to death. I had put motorcycles/street bikes on the list of things that I never ever wanted to experience in all my life (along, of course, with breaking a bone, getting stitches, going skiing, and getting morning sickness). Imagine my complete horror when we arrived in Kigali, and instead of the death-defying matatus as the main mode of public transportation, we find a city completely crawling with moto-taxis.

We spent the entire first day here exploring on foot, but soon realized that wasn’t going to get us all the places we needed to go (not to mention the fact that with all the walking we had been doing, I developed three sets of disgusting blisters on my feet from each of the three pairs of shoes I had packed). So with me hobbling around Kigali as an invalid, it was time to re-evaluate how we were going to get around. As the city of a thousand hills, we were awfully sick of hiking up the huge hill to the Bourbon Café anyways… (Let me just interject here to say that the Bourbon Café is our new home away from home. We are completely smitten with our dear cute waiter friend, Ally, who is probably the sweetest kid on the face of the planet. Whether it’s hooking us up with extra internet time or bringing us free plates of cookies, he’s always got our back. The kid rocks our socks).

So anyway, we mustered the nerve Tuesday morning, and took the taxis literally 30 seconds up the hill to the Bourbon Café for breaky. It was so scary, but so much fun. From that moment on, we were hooked. Never paying more than $2US, we have spent the last 3 days popping all around Kigali on the back of the infamous moto-taxis. The drivers all wear bright green vests and green helmets, and when you are lucky, the helmet they supply you with actually has a working buckle to fasten it, so you don’t have to tromp through town with one hand on top of your helmet to make sure it doesn’t come flying off and into the face of your comrade on the road behind you.

Shelby became the queen of taking photos while zipping down the roads, while I tended to hold on for dear life. It’s funny, the contrast. Sometimes, we’d find a driver who you would trust to drive you from here to Capetown, while other times, you’d be driving down the center of two lanes, with matatus on either side of you, close enough to touch. In all seriousness, once I actually got so scared, I had to close my eyes, and pretend I was on a bus, with my blowing hair the result of a wide open bus window! While I waver between loving and loathing the moto-taxis, I have to admit that I like them a heck of a lot more than matatus, and I’ll miss them in good old Nairobi.

Oh Nairobi. It’s funny how different Nairobi and Kigali are. Walking around Kigali, you almost forget you are in a foreign land. Things are so clean and new, it feels like the shiniest parts of home. I actually saw a city employee yesterday picking up leaves off the street. It’s just that clean. I am rather conflicted about heading back to Nairobi. I never realized until I left how smoggy and cranky and crowded and angry the city is. If it weren’t for the amazing friends I’ve made there, I don’t know that I’d really want to return to Nairobi for any extended period of time. Other parts of Kenya, without a doubt, but not Nairobi. Bittersweet as it is, my time there is coming so quickly to an end. As it stands, I have 1 more sleep in Kigali, 18 more sleeps in Nairobi, then 4 sleeps in Mombasa, 2 sleeps in Nairobi, 1 in Amsterdam, then HOME!

-Delaney xo

Nyamata

"Qui sauve une seule vie sauve le monde entier"
"He who saves a single life saves the entire world"
-Talmud

Today was so incredibly moving and heartbreaking and inspiring, I almost can't stand it. Today was the "serious" part of our trip. We'd done so much reading and learning about the genocide, but couldn't imagine those horrors taking place in this country that we've grown so quickly to love. We spent the day touring different sites hit hard by the genocide, and although I'll attempt to describe what we saw, theres no way words could even come close to doing justice.

At first, I felt a little weird about this deep new interest I've developed about the genocide. I just can't understand how such atrocities actually took place in my lifetime. The more I try to learn about it, the more horrified and saddened I become. I feel like I was just pulled to this country, like I needed to come here to see and breathe and feel Rwanda. Like I learned today at the Genocide Memorial Center, as hard as it is for the Rwandan people to remember that horrible time, it's an important step that must be taken to heal. They insist that the genocide must be remembered and shared, in an effort to understand why it happened, in order to never happen again.

I sincerely hope that my interest will only be interpreted in a positive light. Instead of wanting to exploit this tragedy, I only hope to open the eyes of my friends and family as a tribute to the amazing people of this beautiful country. Their courage and resilience and overwhelming power leaves me completely awe-struck.

*Please note, this entry contains graphic descriptions that are unbelievably horrifying..

We began our day by heading out to Nyamata, a small village close to an hour outside of Kigali. We caught a matatu, and headed out of the city. The drive through the hills was so beautiful. The rolling hills covered in little houses are one of the most impressive sights I've ever seen. I love telling poeple while I travel about how Canada is the most beautiful country in the world, but I think we may almost have to share that title with Rwanda!

A kind gentleman walked us from the main street of Nyamata to the old Catholic Church, which is now a genocide memorial center. We were greeted outside by a young man named Charles. He took us right into the church, where we were met with one of the most crushing sights I've ever seen. Every pew in the church was covered with old, blood soaked clothing of the victims who died there. The ceiling is riddled with bullet holes. Charles asked us if we wanted to hear some stories from what went on there. Through our tears, we agreed. He began calmly explaining that on April 7th, the very day after the genocide began, the Hutu extremists broke in through the front doors of the church, which was sheltering over 6800 people (they had already killed 3200 who were outside of the church). He showed us where the grenades had blown through the doors, leaving huge chunks out of the cement floor. Right inside the main gates, there was a door with a small room. Using an ax, the extremists had chopped the door down, and took seven men from the inside of the tiny room, and slowly chopped off their limbs and killed them in front of the entire church full of people. Then they decapitated a man, and the soldiers laughed and kicked his head around like a soccer ball before killing the rest of the people inside.

Then he took us down into a cellar, where there were about 100 skulls on display. They had varying degress of damaage, but on every single one, you were able to tell how the person had died. Some had very obvious machete marks, others simply had gaping holes clearly made by a blunt object being slammed into the head. Then we went around the church to the back, where we were led down into a crypyt that housed forty THOUSAND bodies. Any bodies that were fully intact (barely any) were in coffins, the rest were just shelves and shelves and shelves of skulls and bones, all neatly re-arranged into thousands of rows.

We walked slowly back to the front of the church, completely emotionally drained. We asked Charles if he was there that day. He said yes. We asked him how many people inside the church actually survived. He answered, "Seven". Seven people. Him and six other were the only survivors. Out of 6200. One day. 6193 people killed. Brutally. Savagely. In front of his eyes. The epitome of evil occurred in that church that day. And for 99 other days, in many other places in this small country. This courageous young man is truly my hero on earth. If a more positive, amazing person is one this planet, I wouldn't believe it. How he managed to live through such horrors, only to step back in that church every day, I'll never understand. The most amazing part? He was so warm and compassionate. Within seconds of stepping in the church, Shelby was in tears, and he was so quick to give a warm hug and let her compose herself before we began the tour. He asked if we wanted to hear stories, and always stopped to make sure we were able to handle them before continuing through especially gruesome descriptions (trust me, the things I've written today don't even come close to some of the horrifying things he told us). He was so open, and encouraged us to ask questions and take pictures, and gave us some time to be alone with our thoughts. This man has absolutely seen the worst that humans are capable of inflicting upon one another, and manages to be a complete pillar of support and love and light for the people around him. I will be eternally awed and humbled by his quiet strength.

The most amazing part is that this country is filled with amazing people like him. While people obviously discuss the genocide openly, there are people who willing open up to tell you about their experiences and their hopes and dreams and memories. The Genocide Memorial Center back in Kigali was an amazing experience too, although much more intellectual and less emotional. There was one very powerful exhibit, where survivors had brought old photographs of their loved ones who'd lost their lives during the genocide. A whole room with thousands of sets of eyes; mothers, children, fathers, grandparents, siblings, so many people who lost their lives because of the hate of others. Genocide is just such a senseless crime. The only real motive is hatred. The Hutus succeeded in wiping out 85% of the Tutsi population. 1 000 000 people, both Tutsis and moderate Hutus died. Such a colossal tragedy.

Today in Rwanda, the red dirt roads weave through the hills. The green, lush vegetation spreads over the landscape as far as the eye can see. The morning mist blankets the valleys, and slowly burns off as the sun rises high in the sky. People are warm and kind and lovely. An amazingly country in the very heart of Africa. Now, there are no Tutsis, no Hutus. Everyone here is Rwandan. It's an amazingly collection of people who are somehow able to rise above the unimaginable horrors of their past. They are able to look hopefully towards a future where people can learn to appreciate the things that make us different, a future where differing skin colours, religious beliefs, customs and dreams can some how live together in a world that embraces diversity.

"No matter how idealistic the aim sounds, this new century must become the "Century of Humanity", when we as humn beings rise above race, creed, colour, religion, and national self-interest and put the good of humanity above the good of our own tribe. For the sake of the children and of our future." - Romeo Dallaire

-Delaney xo

I Heart Kigali!

So far, my love for Kigali has only grown. This city has such a different feel from Nairobi that it’s hard to believe I was only there yesterday morning! This city actually has more of a western feel. The cars drive on the same side of the street as home, the buildings are so similar to home, and it everyone is so laid back and chill here. Combine this with the beautiful, hilly terrain, and it’s like the greatest place.

We laid on a sleeping bag in the grass yesterday evening, and talked for hours about live and love and hopes and dreams. The air was crisp, crickets were chirping all around us, and I can’t even remember the last time I was so deeply content. Before we went to bed, we walked to the edge of the grounds, where we could see the lights of Kigali across the valleys and hills. Then it was off to bed, a creaky little cot in our tiny little room. I had a pretty horrible sleep due to the humid temperatures and my consuming fear of bedbugs, but soon, it was morning.

I leapt out of bed this morning, grabbed my camera, and dashed outside hoping to catch a shot of the sun rising over the hills. Apparently 6:45 was too late, so I just snapped pictures of the hazy valley, then headed back to the room to get ready for the day. Shelby and I went to the coffee shop with Sarah, a fellow AUCC-funded intern from McGill, who spent her summer here in Rwanda. We had a nice breakfast and she shared all sorts of awesome Kigali tips with us. Then we all headed across the road to a marketplace. It has SUCH a different feel from the Maasai Markets in Nairobi. There, the vendors are so overwhelmingly pushy, often so obnoxious that their attitudes are the only thing standing in the way of making a sale. Here at the indoor market, the vendors were so laidback, and it was more like you had to chase them down to buy things, which was such a pleasant contrast!

After a little (ok, a lot) of souvenir shopping, we headed back to the hotel, put on our bathing suits, and walked up to Hotel Milles Collines, which is less than a 10 minute walk from where we are staying. For anyone who was seen “Hotel Rwanda”, it is based on this hotel. During the genocide, thousands of Tutsis and moderate Hutus, as well as targeted government employees and at-risk ex-pats and NGO workers hid in this hotel. While the hotel underwent grenade attacks and being under fire and more than one occasion, thousands of lives were saved as people huddled inside the walls.

We had hoped to spend the afternoon at the poolside, but when we got there, the receptionist told us the pool was under construction for the next 3 months. We were disappointed, but ended up spending a few hours on the outdoor patio at the restaurant. We each had a Primus (the Canadian, or Tusker of Rwanda, aka the local beer). Shelby read her book "Sunday at the Pool in Kigali”, a true story based on people who were sheltered at the hotel during that summer.

Despite all the reading I’ve done about those horrible 100 days, I just couldn’t associate the beautiful hotel with the horrors that I know went on there. It’s been the same way about this city the whole time we’ve been here. I can’t connect the dots between the atrocities that I know occurred, and the beautiful scenery around me. Let me just say that I don’t want to sensationalize what happened during the genocide AT ALL. Completely the opposite. I feel like the more I learn about the genocide, the more passionate I become about making sure it never happens again. If everyone could develop that kind of burning desire to ensure human rights and freedoms, imagine what a different place the world could be.

We are going to the Genocide Memorial Museum tomorrow, I feel like that’s when it’s going to hit me. I am a little bit scared that it’s going to change my perceptions of Kigali. I want to be able to keep loving this city as much as I do now, and I don’t think anything could change my mind about it. If anything, seeing how far the country has come so soon will only make me more passionate about what a great place it is, and how amazingly resilient the Rwandan people are.

On the way back from the Hotel Milles Collines, we saw the St. Famille church at the bottom of the hill, tucked in right around the corner from the hostel. I remembered the name from my book, and so we wandered towards it to take a look. The church is an ENORMOUS brick building nestled right in the base of a hill. Like Hotel Milles Collines, the church held THOUSANDS of people during the genocide. We walked up to the front doors, stepped inside, and both were covered from head-to-toe with instant goosebumps. The Catholic church was one of the most hauntingly beautiful buildings I have ever been inside. There were several people inside sitting quietly on the pews. We walked slowly and quietly to the front of the church and just stood silently for a few minutes, completely overwhelmed with the intensity of being in a building that had been such an effective safe haven. We silently made our way back outside, where we just stood for a few minutes in total awe of what we’d just experienced.

We made the walk back to the hostel, where we spent an hour or two suntanning on the grass before we finally mustered the courage to shower in the super smelly hostel communal showers. Then we hiked back up the hill to the Bourbon Café coffee shop for dinner. Seriously, it’s obsession! Lightening fast internet, a patio with phenomenal views, great coffee, and the yummiest, affordable food. Mzungu life in Kigali doesn’t seem to get better than Bourbon Café. We sat there drinking Mocha after Mocha until closing time, and we took the five minute walk down the hill back to the hostel. It’s amazing that we can walk safely around at night here, when I wouldn’t even walk half a block in a big group in Nairobi after dark.

We’ve just spent a few hours chitchatting here now, and now it’s off to bed. It doesn’t feel right to say that I’m excited to go to the Genocide Memorial Museum tomorrow. Rather, I am hoping to gain a deeper perspective into this dark era in humanity. I feel like it’s so important to reflect on the horrible aspects of life sometimes, in order to keep the great things in perspective. I hate that this kind of evil has manifested in the world. The least we can do is try to understand why and how it came to be, so that we can make sure it never happens again.

-Delaney xo

La Paye de Milles Collines...

First impressions: I am head-over-heels in love with Rwanda. So far, this beautiful country just exceeds any expectation I ever could have had. Today has been so completely amazing!

I was up and out of the house in Nairobi this morning by 7am. Nat, Graham and I headed to the shopping center to grab some breakfast. A bacon-cheddar-guac omelette just started off the day perfectly. We took the half hour walk back home, where I crammed the rest of my stuff in the old backpack and finished getting ready. Shelby showed up by quarter to ten, and by ten, we were with our old taxi-driving pal Erastus, and headed to the airport.

Check-in was a breeze, and before long we were sitting in the lounge chowing down on mandazis and coke (me) and sausages and smirnoff ice (Shelby, she needed a little hair of the dog..). I was so stoked to see from my boarding pass that I was lucky enough to get an window seat, but as my luck would have it, mine was the only window seat in the whole plane that didn't acutally have a window. The flight was only an hour and twenty minutes long, and somehow, we were lucky enough to get a full meal! Chicken and roasted potatoes, coffee and dessert! Three cheers for Kenya Airways!!!

We were both just leaping for joy when we stepped onto the tarmac. The sun was shining, there was a wonderful breeze, and the city is GORGEOUS. We took an overpriced cab to the hostel, which turns out to be the most amazing place on earth. Ran by nuns, the hostel is on the grounds of what must be a convent. Within moments, we were forced to try to remember as much french as possible, as these dear women didn't speak a word of english! "Je..voudrais...un chambre...deux personnes...s'il vous plait..." Somehow we got the message across, and we got a cute little room with two beds for the whole week for only $27US each! That's practically the same as we pay daily back in Nairobi, for the whole week!!!

There is a small church less than twenty feet from our door, and because we arrived on a Sunday afternoon, there was a service in session, and we could hear the most amazing choir singing. It gave me chills, it was SO beautiful! There is a large courtyard outside, with gazebos and benches, and lots of open space. We met a group of students from Ireland, and they were nice enough to fill us in on the neighbourhood and the cool things they've been doing. Two of them walked with us a few blocks to Nakumatt (!!!), where we stocked up on bottled water and crackers and juice boxes to get us through the week.

Now we are sitting in the Bourbon Cafe, which is comparable to a Starbucks (or Java House, haha). There is a beauiful view of the rolling hils. It's dusk now, and I couldn't be happier if I tried. Kigali is SO gorgeous. It is SO clean and green and warm and inviting. The cars drive on the same side of the road as Canada, it felt weird!!!! The temperature is absolutely perfect. Hot in the sun, but nice and warm in the shade. The whole city has such a laid-back, relaxed atmosphere. Or maybe, I just feel so happy and relaxed here that I'm taking that impression from the city. All I know is that I could spend ages here.

It's so fun to hear french everywhere! We are going to try and pick up a french-engligh phrase book, hopefully I can drag some more of it from the old memory bank. It's funny, Shelby has a better vocabulary for French words, but my accent is way better, so she tells me the words, and I say it so they can understand! So far it's working great. We already can tell that we're going to be great travel companions. We agree that one of the most important parts of travelling with someone is being able to a) have comfortable silences, and b) to be able to be together, but doing your own thing. Right now, I'm blogging, she's journalling, and we are just so content.

For the rest of the week, plans are in the air. A visit to the genocide museum is absolutely top of the to-do list. We're both avid readers, so we will certainly spend some time just outside reading and relaxing. We may try to take a trip to Lake Kivu as well, if time permits. The country is so small! We're right in the middle, so its like no-where is more than 2 or 3 hours by bus away! Awesome! So far, if I had my choice to return to Africa someday, Kigali would definitely trump Nairobi, absolutely no contest! I'm so excited for the whole week! Truly, life is grand.

-Delaney xo

August in a Nutshell

"A good traveler has no fixed plans, and is not intent on arriving.
-Lao Tzu"

Ahhh. I can breathe again. Combined with the emotional strain of the “Ryder Lake Hotel” affair, I was stressed to the eye-balls about the hotel situation here. We’re staying at a residential hotel, and had to switch rooms for this last month. Picture me at 10pm last night alone in the apartment in tears running around trying to pack up a house that four packrats have lived in for two months. Horrendous. Luckily, Graham arrived home at the height of my stress, and the two us packed up pretty efficiently. This morning we got up and headed downtown to the Yaya Center, where I was able to print my e-tickets for Rwanda, then came home to to the actual move. Luckily, we only had to move one floor down, and the new apartment is directly below our old one, so the move was about as pain-free as a move could be, I suppose.

So now I’m here pool-side, enjoying a few hours of sun in my bikini, which has happened all to few times this summer. I’ve had so little sun this summer, I feel like I’ve spent three months being the whitest person in Africa, only to return back home to be the whitest person in Canada!

But oh, is it ever great to just relax for a few hours. While I love everything I’ve been doing here, it’s been go-go-go nonstop for 2 months. Monday-Thursday at the office, Fridays and some Saturdays at the orphanage, Sundays with church or shopping, we’ve barely had a moment to breathe! Even little trips away (re: My weekend in Hell), while great times, do not involved any relaxing.
And tomorrow, off to Rwanda! This is another experience that will no doubt leave no time for relaxing, but I am so excited for it, I can hardly stand it. The tickets are booked, passports packed, cameras charged! In less than 24 hours, I’ll be in Kigali in the “Pay de Milles Collines” or “Country of 1000 Hills.” Seeing as how French is the first language in Rwanda, it’ll be interesting to see how much of my French Immersion skills come flooding back. I can remember next to nothing, but maybe it’ll be like bike riding? (Shudder!!) Hopefully it’s something you don’t really forget?! Fingers are crossed!

It feels so funny to be going on a vacation from my vacation. At least for the time being, Nairobi is starting to feel like home! We don’t have too many concrete plans. Meeting a few friends of friends and fellow interns are on the agenda, but other than that, we’ll just head where the wind takes us. It’ll be cool to recapture that tourist feeling and spend a few days exploring yet another corner of the earth. If I don’t get a chance to give a little update in Rwanda, I’ll be back in 6 days time, full of stories!

After that, it’ll be back to Nairobi, where only 18 days will remain, before we head on to Mombasa, which is on the coast, right on the Indian Ocean. A few days of fun in the sun with our friend Roxanna from UFV, and then it’ll be back to Nairobi for two nights, then one day in Amsterdam, then Chilliwack, here I come!!! When I break down my time like that, a week here, a few days there, it makes it seem almost like the summer is already over. I only have 11 days left in the Scout office, which just devastates me. Truthfully, I kind of though the actual work part of the internship would probably be the part of the summer I would enjoy the least, but it’s without a doubt been the best part of the summer. The things I’ve learned and the friends I’ve made just blow my mind.

That’s the rest of the summer, in a nutshell! Time is flying so fast, I’m just trying to take in every moment, knowing I’ll be back home in the blink of an eye.

-Delaney xo

A Tribute to the "Ryder Lake Hotel: Home of the Happy Sleep"

"What is it about grandparents that is so lovely? I'd like to say that grandparents are God's gifts to children. And if they can but see, hear and feel what these people have to give, they can mature at a fast rate. -Bill Cosby"

(For those of you avid followers looking forward to an exciting Africa post, I apologize. This one hits a little closer to home).

As I sit in Kenya in the evening writing this, back in Canada, my family is just getting up in the morning to move my grandparents out of the house I practically grew up in. Now, no offence to my old Fairfield Island house, but Grandma and Papa's house to me is the epitome of home.

Surrounded by five acres of trees in the depths of Ryder Lake lies Grandma and Papa's house. Built by Papa himself, the house is huge. The upstairs has 3 bedrooms, 2.5 bathrooms, a living room, a dining room, a family room, a kitchen and a spare room. The downstairs has a pool room/library, a pingpong room, 2 bedrooms, a bathroom, a huge storage room, and a shop. The house is set back from the road, and sits atop a hill. There is a great yard, and then trees sloping down and around the hill. It's common in the summer to see families of deer wandering the yard! (Perhaps I should consider a future in writing real estate ads?)

At least half of the happiest memories I have from my childhood happened at Grandma and Papa's house. Every Christmas and Easter dinner took place there surrounded by the most amazing family in the world. Birthdays, school holidays, special occasions, they all took place up on the hill. My heart and head are being flooded with so many happy memories, I can't even begin to think of how I'd put them into words: family reunions, summer picnics on the front lawn, building forts in the trees, walking to get the mail and stopping to pick periwinkles in the summer, sledding down the hill in the winter, it's impossible to list all the things that went on in that house.

Christmas was ALWAYS at Grandma and Papa's house. Nothing in the world was better than singing carols around the tree on Christmas Eve. Papa would play an old Mitch Miller cassette of songs, and everyone would gripe and complain about how horrible it was, and then join in the tradition of the ever-cheesy family sing-along. Then it was laying milk and cookies on the mantle before heading off to bed and waiting for Santa to come. In the morning, Papa would make scrambled eggs and bacon for the whole family on the wood stove, while us kids were going crazy not being allowed in to the living room to see the tree until EVERYONE finised breakfast! After the mountain of presents were opened, it was homemade macaroni and cheese for lunch. A few hours later would be turkey dinner, with the dining room table often streching almost to the far wall across the living room, as dinner often included more than 25 people. After dinner was board games, which always ended up in a few raised voices, but even more laughs.

As great as Christmas was, it's almost the little things I rememeber more fondly. I can remember sleeping over on the weekends when I was little (a very regular occurence) and loving waking up in the morning because it meant we could go sniggle in with Grandma in her bed. Papa would bring us tea, and we would cuddle, and point to the wrinkles on Grandma's face. She told us she had a story for each wrinkle, and it always seemed to be true. Stories about when we were babies, about when our mom and aunts and uncles were little, no matter how many times we asked, she'd always come up with a story for us.

And the tea. If there was ever a "Tea Granny", it would be my Grandma. Tea before breakfast, tea in the middle morning, tea after lunch, tea late afternoon, tea after dinner, and tea before bed. And of course, Papa would always make it, with the greatest happiness. The man has infinite talents, but taking the most amazing care of his girls certainly seems to be the top of the list. Grandma has always told me never to settle for a man that doesn't treat me as well as Papa treats her, and while it's a nearly impossibly high standard, I know she's right. My grandparents have been happily married for 62 years, and I've never met two more amazing people in my entire life.

My Grandma was acutally a preschool teacher, and the year I was in 4-year-old preschool was her last year teaching. My class was the last she ever taught, and as a retirement gift, we bought her a maple tree, which, after a few years in a wooden pot, got planted in the middle of her front yard. On my last day in Canada before heading to this side of the world, I went for dinner and Grandma and Papa's, knowing it was the last time I'd be in that house. As I cuddled on the couch with Grandma before I left, I glanced out and saw the tree. It kind of stuck me as kind of symbolic. It grew as we grew. Now it's a full grown tree, just as my preschool friends and I are now grown. I guess that's the way life goes. Trees grow, we grow, people change, we move houses, and countries, and still the world keeps turning.

Still, it's hard not to be home today. Writing this post brought back memories I hadn't though about in years. I've been smiling through my tears, thinking about the great times I've had there. They say home is where the heart is, and today, my heart is in a house in Ryder Lake, surrounded by my incredible family, laughing and loving and, of course, drinking tea.

-Delaney

Just another day in paradise

If you want to build a ship, don't drum up people together to collect wood and don't assign them tasks and work, but rather teach them to long for the endless immensity of the sea. -Antoine de Saint-Exupery"

Today was a really great, great day. Luc Panissod, the head of the entire World Scout Bureau, is in Nairobi to help conduct the interviews for a new Regional Director at our office, so I was determined to make a great impression. I dressed up in the best outfit I could wrangle together: a goldish skirt, black sweater and black heels. I even straightened my hair for the occasion! As it turns out, he didn't come to the office today, but it turned out being one of those times you have a great day just because you feel really great.

The day was still really awesome though, even though Luc didn't come to the office. Winston and Elzette, who both work in our satellite offices, were in the office. Wintston is in town to help with the interveiw, and Elzette was in the office to finish the "Yearly Operational Plan", which is a report that gets submitted annually to Geneva. It gives a detailed budget and projected outcomes and indicators for each of the year's objectives. The objectives in the YOP are divided into 4 sections: Youth Programme, Adult Resources, Projects and Partnerships, and Communications.

Elzette mentioned on the ride to work this morning that she might need my help today, and sure enough, within 10 minutes of settling into my desk, she popped her head in my office and asked me to come to the board room when I got a chance. I headed right down, and was totally taken aback by the sight. There were papers spread all over the desk, huge diagrams on the walls, a huge matrix taped on the board, and an entire whiteboard covered in lists and diagrams. As it turns out, the YOP was due to be submitted yesterday, so the pressure was on!

Euloge, the Communications director, is at a conference in Eygpt this week, so Elzette handed me the section on communcations, gave me a few reference documents, and basically told me to fill in all the blanks, and then disappeared to a meeting with Winston, leaving me alone and rather shell-shocked in the board room. I spent the next few hours creating Project Results and Indicators, classifying Activity types, and making sure that the Triennial Objectives were being met. It was very daunting, but I got it all done by lunch. After we ate, Winston, Elzette, Jacques, Guy (the accountanting director), Kennedy (the accountant), Amos (IT guy) and I all had a meeting in the boardroom to finalize the budget and go over any last concerns. Once we had addressed everything, Elzette and I spent about 15 minutes doing a final proof read, before handing it off to Guy, for him to finalize the budget.

It was really high stress, and SO exciting. I can't tell you how grown-up I felt all dressed up, on my computer, in the board room, helping to complete this important report for this huge global organization. When I went to thank Elzette at the end of the day, she thanked me, and said how much she appreciated that she was able to tell me what she needed and then leave me to it. She said I was very capable, and definately held my own, which was the hugest compliment. I basically flew on wings back to my office. By that time, it was almost 430, so I sat and chit-chatted with Elly until it was time to go home.

On the way, he was nice enough to stop for 5 minutes at the store so I could run in and buy butter, since I promised Amos I'd bring cookies to the office tomorrow. Since the Canada Day cupcakes, he's been asking on a regular basis when I'd be bringing snacks again, so I'd been promising him that this week while the girls are way, I'd have a ton of free time to bake. The other day I made Rice Krispie Squares. They were quite a hit, but not the way you'd think. No one seemed to really like them (since half of them had never heard of marshmellows, they were a little wary). However, they thought the name of them was HILARIOUS! Apparently to everyone here, the name "Rice Krispie Square" is somewhat of a tongue twister. Even today, people would look at me, and start giggling as they tried to say it. So for tomorrow, I've made a much easier snack to pronounce: cookies! They are sugar cookies with vanilla icing and sprinkles, and they taste SO amazing, I can hardly believe I made them!

I was really sad today when I looked at my calendar and acutally counted the number of days I have left in the office. Only 12 more days!!!! Between my time at the orphange, my trip to Rwanda, and my possible trip to Rwanda at the end of the summer, I only have TWELVE more days at work, which makes me so sad. I am so happy working there. The hours are great, the work is fascinating, and I've made real friends. The thought of leaving so soon absolutely tears at my heart. I guess I'll just have to make the most of the rest of my time, and hopefully some day I can be lucky enough to have a real job that I thouroughly enjoy as much as this.

-Delaney xo

My weekend in HELL!

"Defeat is not the worst of failures. Not to have tried is the true failure.
-George Edward Woodberry"

So this weekend was definitely the most miserable weekend I've spent here in Nairobi, but I hope to someday look back on it fondly... Graham, his friend Taylor, Hans and I went on a weekend trip to Lake Naivasha to go cycling in Hell's Gate National Park. We got up bright and early Saturday morning, and we were downtown ready to catch a matatu to the base camp by 7am. The ride there was remarkably easy and uneventful, so easy in fact that it put us all a little on edge. For instance, it was so cheap! Less than 250 shillings to get there, which is amazing, considering it costs up to 500 shillings just to get home from the grocery store in a taxi, which is a five minute drive from home.

We arrived at the Fisherman's Camp on the shores of Naivasha by about 930. We checked into our banda, an endearing little shack with two single beds and two bunk beds and the luxury of a toilet!!! We had a quick breakfast and headed down to the dock in hopes of seeing the hippos that live in the lake. There were no hippos, but we did meet Marco, who we hired for the day to be our guide. We walked to the main office, all picked a bicycle, and the adventure began.

*Note* It is important to comment at this point that
a) I acutally cannot remember the last time I was on a bicycle
b) I am in the worst shape of anyone I know

To get to the main road, we had to go up a really short, steep hill. The group of them peeled out of the lot, leaving me huffing and puffing and skidding and stopping in near tears about 10ft from the starting line. Marco changed my gears on the bike (it has gears?!) and I (barely) made it up the hill. Then it was about 3 km down the main road. By the time we got to the turnoff for the park, my butt was so sore, and I was having serious second thoughts. The turn-off led to a gradually inclining gravel hill which led for 2km to the main gate. Before the gate was even in sight, I was totally, completely done. I was falling so far behind the group, that Marco had to come back and see what my problem was. At that point, actual tears were forming in my eyes, and I told him that I really didn't think I was cut out for a biking extravaganza, and that I'd better return to camp. Marco said I couldn't, and not to worry, that the beginnning part was the worst, and that many people want to turn around there, and then end up loving the day, so I had no choice but to perservere.

*Note #2
I really went into this with an open mind. I wasn't whining or snivling or trying to be dramatic, I was acutlly just sincerely struggling. It was harder than I could have imagined.

So we finally made it through the gate, and headed down the path, and for a while, we were at a nice easy pace, and I thought "Ok, this Marco guy knows what he's talking about.... this is gonna be ok!". We saw this huge, crazy beautiful rock formation in the distance, rode right up to it. It turns out there was a guy there, and you were allowed to rock-climb it! I was totally down for the idea, and so Taylor and I each took a turn scaling this amazing spire in the middle of this park. It wasn't too hard at all, and really rewarding. (Looking back, it was the thing that will forever remain in my memory as "the thing that made the day from hell worthwhile!"

Then it was back on the bikes and towards the gorge. We saw tons of zebras and giraffes, and Marco, who is like the most chill guy on the planet let us go running off through the grass towards the animals, which was probably hugely against the park rules, but a total blast!! Then back on the bikes and closer to the gorge.

By the time we got to the gorge, I was quickly losing the will to live. When we made it there, and I was overwhelmed with happiness for the chance to be off the bike for awhile. We had a quick picnic lunch consisting of cashews, digestives, cokes, fruit bars, and a mento each for desert, then we headed off into the gorge for the hiking part of the day.

The gorges were BEAUTIFUL! We hiked through the thin pathways, at some points having to jump off rocks to the lower parts or having to walk on super thin slippery edges while trying to avoid falling into the 6m deep murky water!It was amazing! Hell's Gate National Park is home to some of the world's hottest natural hotsprings, so there were tons of little streams of water flowing down the walls of the gorge.
At one point, we all got to have an impromptu shower/head dunk in the hot water, which was so refreshing and fun. Then we did a really short hike up to the top of the gorge, stopping for Marco to decorate us all with traditional Maasai warrior paint on our faces (basically natural, thick, red clay).

At the top of the gorge, you could see for miles and miles and miles, and it was one of the prettiest places I've ever seen. However, my joy was short lived, as it was then back to the bikes. The worst part of the riding was that it was the bumpiest gravel road ever! The physical pain of riding on a too-small bike down a gravel road was even worse than the aching legs and out-of-breathness. I acutally came home with bruised palms and inner thighs from all of the bumps. I made it all the way back to camp, but barely. I feel like I should be proud of myself for presevering and making it though the whole day, and maybe some day I will, but at this point, I really hate the thought of even looking at another bike as long as I live!

When we got back to camp, we relaxed for a bit, then had a nice dinner and then a campfire before bed. It felt like bieng at summer at home, hanging out with friends sharing stories around the fire! We all slept like babies that night! We got up Sunday morning and took the matatus back to town, and had a nice relaxing evening, then today was back to work. I was almost giddy in the van on the way to work today. It was like a Friday evening feeling, only I was so glad that the weekend in Hell was over that I was ecstatic to be coming back to the office to rest my poor weary body!

The whole biking trip was a total of about 30 kilometers, which is about the distance between Chilliwack and Abbotsford. Eww. While I enjoyed the rock climbing/gorge/camp out aspects of the weekend, the cycling was honestly something I'd never want to experience again. However, Hans and Graham agree that it was one of the best parts of their summer, so I really am glad I got the chance to share it with them!

-Delaney xo

How do I miss thee?

"Certainly, travel is more than the seeing of sights; it is a change that goes on, deep and permanent, in the ideas of living. -Miriam Beard"

Oh, home, today I miss you desperately!

Ok, maybe thats a bit melodramatic. Truthfully, I haven't experienced and significant homesickness since I've been here. Knowing that my time here is so short, it doesn't seem worth it to waste any time here being sad. Of course I miss my family and friend, but with modern technologies, I probably keep in touch with my loved ones better now than I did when I was home.

What I do miss terribly are the conveniences of home. This story perfectly illustrates how life in Nairobi can make you yearn for the carefree way of life at home:

After I spend a good hour making a chicken-rice-stirfry dinner without using any Nairobi tapwater (harder than it sounds)I headed to my room to pack for the biking trip we are embarking on at the unearthly hour of 6am tomorrow. And to my avail, I had no clean underwear left. Impromptu laundry time ensued.

Only, if you remember, laundry can not just be chucked into the washer and drier. No. Laundry is a time-consuming, skin wrinkling affair. After I finished washing and wringing dry 14 pairs of underwear, I realized that they would not be able to dry in time for wearing/packing for the biking extravaganza. No, I couldn't hope for the luxury of a drier....unless....hmmm.... perhaps I could BLOWDRY them?

Yes. It's true. As I sat with the blowdrier in one hand and a pair of panties in the other, I started REALLY missing home, and so I composed this list of "Things I Miss" in my head for you:

(Please, enjoy these things twice as much for me while I'm gone!)

1) Having a washer/drier
2) Drinking tap water in the shower
3) Drinking tap water in a glass
4) Cooking with tap water
5) Clean tap water in general
6) Going to the beach
7) DQ Blizzards (Skor + Cookie Dough = HEAVEN)
8) Walking out my front door and being at work 4 minutes later
9) Mom tidying up after me (haha!)
10) Being able to walk down the street without being contantly apprehensive
11) Being able to have completely platonic friendships with boys
12) Feeling safe on the roads
13) Eating a good steak!
14) Straightning my hair! (My straightner blew the first day here!)
15) Being able to safely leave the house after dark
16) Eating crackers! (There's a strange lack of crackers, even in the "Mzungu"-grocery stores!


The other day I broke down in tears because I got so irritated at being taken advantage of by taxi drivers. A ride that should have cost me 400 shillings ($6.40) cost me 600 shillings ($9.60), just because of the colour of my skin. I got madder and madder on the way home in said cab, thinking about how essentially, that counts as rasism. I got more and more worked up on the drive, and was in tears by the time I got in my front door. I realized later that if thats the worst racism I experience in my life, I've got it pretty damn good, but it was the principle that bugged me.

So that's my current thoughts, in a nut shell. I miss life in Canada, but despite my complaints, things really are so great here too. As a matter of fact, writing this list has got me thinking about a future list of "Things I'll Miss About Africa"..... but I guarantee, handwashing won't be on it!

-Delaney xo

PS: For those of you wondering about the briefly mentioned "biking trip" tomorrow, I'm going to keep you in suspense. But don't fret, I have plenty of fruit bars packed..... xo

Rwanda!

"We cannot turn the clock back nor can we undo the harm caused, but we have the power to determine the future and to ensure that what happened never happens again" - Paul Kagame, President of Rwanda

I am the first to admit that I've never really cared much for current events. I don't follow (or even really understand) politics. I hated social studies class in school growing up. It just never really interested me. Now I find myself sincerely regretting that lack of interest. I seem to have tapped into this deep desire inside of me to understand EVERYTHING I possibly can about Africa and the issues and politics and events of this struggling nation. So much of it goes over my head because I just never built the basic framework of knowledge I need to understand what is going on around me.

In an attempt to play catch-up on the concepts I've never grasped, I've been spending hours every day reading and learning and trying to get a hold on some of these crazy concepts swirling around me: capitalism, micro-finance, government structure, communism, socialism, democracy, genocide...The list goes on and on. Don't get me wrong, while I have an idea of what each thing entails, it's certainly not engrained in my head.

I've been learning so much about Kenya on a daily basis, through newspapers and keeping my ears peeled at all times, and it's just made me want to learn about all of the countries I keep hearing about on a daily basis: Tanzania, Uganda, Rwanda, South Africa, Swaziland...the list goes on and on. I decided that as a way to broaden my horizons, I would research a different country for an hour or two each day. At that rate, I would have enough time to research at last the sub-Saharan countries before the end of the summer, and would hopefully go home with at least a base understanding of the current situation in this part of the world.

My first day, I spent a few hours learning about Swaziland. It wasn't too interesting, so I moved on to Rwanda, which absolutely captured my heart. I spent probably five straight hours reading about Rwanda's history, with an intense focus on the genocide which occured in 1994.

There are two main tribes in Rwanda: the Tutsis and the Hutus. Essentially, they've been conflicted for many many years. In 1994, over the course of 100 days, Hutu extremists (back by the Rwandan government, police force and military) killed a million Tutsis. Men, women, and children were slaughtered in a completely senseless bloodbath that eliminated a huge part of the Tutsi population. If you break it down, 10 000 people were killed a day, 400 an hour, SEVEN PEOPLE EVERY MINUTE. It is absolutely chilling and horrifying, and so very unjustified. The Hutus killed at a rate five times faster than the Nazis during the Halocaust. It's truly enough to make you sick. A tenth of the Rwandan people died in just 100 days.

I got the most phenominal book from the bookstore, its called "Shake Hands with the Devil: The Failure of Humanity in Rwanda". It's written by Lt.Gen. Romeo Dallaire, a Canadia solider who was the Force Commander of the UN mission in Rwanda during the genocide. The UN has been blamed for not doing enough to stop the carnage, and Dallaire is the first to admit that the UN failed the people of Rwanda. The book is hailled as the most accurate eye-witness account of the genocide, and while its a really heavy read, I would strongly recommend it. While Dallaire is quick to point out the UN's failings, he doesn't do so without also remarking times when he too could have chosen a smarter path of action.

After doing all of this reading, I was filled with an overwhelming urge to visit Rwanda, which has turned 180 degrees in the past 15 years. It is undergoing rapid development, and is trying to evolve from an agriculture-based economy to a knowledge-based economy. The current president, Paul Kagame, has been credited with turning Rwanda into "Africa's Success Story". It is now safe for tourists, and nicknamed "Land of 1000 Hills", is supposedly an aboslutely beautiful country.

Last night I was over for a visit with Hans, Amanda, Shelby and Heather. (I don't know if I mentioned before, Shelby and Heather came on the Trinity Western University Study Tour, and when the rest of the students went home, they stayed for a few more weeks. As a matter of fact, neither of them acutally go to TWU, they go to SFU and UBC, kind of beside the point I guess....). We got talking about books and what we were all reading, and I got talking about "Shake Hands with the Devil", and how I can't stand the fact that I'm so close to Rwanda, and I'm not going to make it there. Somehow, I made some joke about how if anyone had a few spare days, I would be happy to pop over to Rwanda with them to see the sights, and Shelby acutally said she would be able to.

We talked it over for a good hour or so, and realized this plan actually had some potential. The more we reasoned it out, it would be insane NOT to go. We can get flights for a reasonable price, and hotels and transport in Kigali (the capital city) are very inexpensive. We checked the International Travel Warnings to ensure that it was safe for us to go, and found that it's seemingly safer than Kenya. Admittedly, we'll have to exercise the same amount of caution as we do here, but overall, it seems like we can put this plan into action.

I came to work this morning knowing that getting time off from work is the only hurdle I'd be facing to make this little mini-vacation happen. Luckily, this is practically the greatest job in the world, and Jacques was totally fine with me taking a week off, and acutally spend some time telling me about things to do in Kigali. The awesomest part: he's going to put me in contact with the Rwanda Scouts Association, and that will help tie this in with what I'm doing at the ARO. I'll be able to go to the office and introduce myself and spend some time there in an official capacity as well!

So the long and short of it is, IM GOING TO RWANDA! We will be there from August 3rd-7th. The top priority is definitely the Kigali Genocide Memorial Center, which is an incredibly inspirational museum/memorial dedicated to the 1 174 000 Rwandans who lost their lives during the 100 day slaughter. As well, we will be able to visit "Hotel Mille Collines", which was the location featured in the movie "Hotel Rwanda" (which I still have never seen!!!!). You can also go to a church about half an hour out of town where a huge mass slaughter of 10 000 occured, and where there is still piles of bloody clothes and shelves of skeletons, serving to remind people of just how real this crisis really was.

This trip certainly won't be about fun and sunshine and laughter, and I'm totally ok with that. The things we'll see will certainly make us think, and cry, and feel ashamed for how the citizens of the world failed the people of Rwanda just 15 short years ago. However, it feels amazing to find this passion, and to care so much about learning and understanding what really happened in Rwanda. If people don't try to understand why such atrocities take place, we can be assured that they will happen again. In the Darfur region of Sudan, the same thing is happening right now. When will the global community finally take a stand and care enough for one another to ensure that these acts of evil end?

Life's Not Fair

"Nobody said it would be easy... No one ever said it would be so hard..."
-Coldplay

I'm angry at the world today. It was a ridiculously emotional day, and I'll explain as best I can.

Being here and seeing such horrifying levels of poverty on a daily basis has been hard, but not impossible. Even when walking through the worst parts of Kibera, it's hard to acutally imagine living in such conditions. It's almost like you can't fully let yourself absorb the situation, or it will overwhelm and devastate you. Maybe it's not the best way to fully experience a new culture, but I've found that the only way you can deal with it is to try and keep your emotions checked at the door, so to speak. Mentally absorb the things you are seeing, while keeping your emotions out of the equation. This approach was serving me quite well, until today.

It was like probably our 10th or 11th day at the orphanage. We did an activity with the children where they mapped out their communities for us, and then talked about what the liked about their communities, whether they felt safe, or scared, or secure, and what they considered the most urgent need in their community, in order to hopefully get grant money put to the most effective use. We took them one-on-one to determine their background to see how that affected their wishes and fears and desires. We split the kids into two groups: the orphans/boarders, and the children who live in the surrounding village.

One of the first kids I talked to is a boy in my class, who I've adored since day one (let's call him Bob). Now, Bob is just about the sweetest thing you've ever seen. Huge brown curious eyes, and a permanent smile glued on his face. He sits in the first row of the class, and always knows the answer. While the other kids want to colour or do PE, all Bob wants to do is learn. I think my particular affinity for him really took off the day he came to school in a Scout uniform. The kid is just precious, and helpful, and innocent, and could melt your heart in an instant.

I found out today when we started talking to each kid individually that he is acutally one of the boarders at the school. With the help of Eunice to translate, the wife of Pastor Simon/the head teacher at the school, I started to ask Bob about his community (which is basically the compound). He was sweet and outgoing and helpful as usual. However, when Eunice started telling me about his background, everything changed. As it turns out, Bob was orphaned at a very young age. A friend of a friend of a friend of someone or other took him in, and together they came from upcountry to Nairobi. At some point, this guardian decided they didn't want to care for him anymore. Somehow, he ended up at the gate of the orphange with one bag of clothes, crying and begging to be taken in because he just wanted to learn. At this point, Bob was on the verge of tears, and when he turned to look at me, he started sobbing, which prompty launched me into tears at well. I gave him a huge hug, and tried not to let him see me with my eyes, which were just brimming with tears. Bob has basically been at the orphanage ever since, and he just excels. When he calmed down and went outside, Eunice was teary eyed as well, and told me how she just used to cry when children would show up at the gates, needing to be fed and schooled and just loved.

What surprised me was that all of the children who stay at the orphanage aren't acutally orphans. While some of the are, the majority of them are from the adjacent village. Most commonly, they come from single-parent homes, where the parent (usually the mother) is HIV positive, and simply can't care for them. So they come live at the center, and are brought to the village to see their parents whenever possible. By the end of talking to the boarders, my heart was in a billion little pieces. I just couldn't grasp how life could get any more unfair then it was for these beautiful children, until I started talking to the kids from the community.

Their stories were even sadder. While every boarder commented on how safe they felt, almost every child from the outside community commented on how unsafe they felt, due to "theifs", "abusive drunk men", and even "teachers who hit us" (don't even get me started on that one; suffice to say that teachers are able to hit children here, and I've had to walk out of my classroom in anger so as not to pummell the teacher across the room). While the boarders commented on how the best part of their community was "sleeping on a bed", the kids from the town often live in small, one bedroom houses with up to 8 or 9 people living and sleeping on the floor of the one tiny room.

It's funny how perceptions change. On my first day, when I saw the dormatory where the 20 boys share 5 bunkbeds, I was so shocked and saddned. Now that I find out that this is a high point of their lives, and that they are the really lucky ones, it kind of breaks my heart even more. Despite every sad story I heard today, the truth is that these kids are so lucky. They get at least 2 meals a day, they have roofs over their heads, they attend class regularly, they have people who care about them.

It was just such a hard day, hearing these personal stories about these perfect children who I've grown to care about so quickly. How is it fair that they were born into the life they live, while I was born into mine? I have more than I could ever need, and they have so little, and yet manage to keep smiling ALL the time. It just saddens me to my very core. I can't imagine going home and never knowing what happens to these kids. At this point, I would do anytihng on earth to help them and at the same time, it feels like it would never seem like enough. There are just so many needs, and meeting them all could just never ever happen.

I guess the best I can do is just love them and listen to them and play with them and guide them in the short time that I have left here. Maybe some day, I will be fortunate enough to return to see the people that they are growing into. I met someone the other day who's university tuition here in Nairobi was actually paid for by a couple from Langely, of all places! Part of me feels like putting money away every week now, in the hopes that in 10 years, I could try to do the same thing for Bob, or an amazingly deserving person like him.

I guess I'm glad that I finally opened up to acutally "feeling" Africa, instead of "observing" it, but truly, I ache inside for these kids, and the millions more like them. I think what I am getting out of this experience the most is that the most important thing you can do in life is to give of yourself as much as you possibly can. Maybe the reason we were born into such privelige is to be able to help people who aren't as fortunate. It's really the only way to make sense out of an injustice that is so crushingly senseless.

-Delaney xo

The Office

Happiness comes of the capacity to feel deeply, to enjoy simply, to think freely, to risk life, to be needed.
Storm Jameson

So I'm going to be a super huge dork, and upload another post an hour after my last post... Here's the thing: I love this job. I feel like I got the best internship placement possible.

I am so infatuated with working in an office. I love the fact that I get to dress up in nice clothes every day. I love the sound of my high heels clicking as I walk down the hall. I love printing things, and fetching them from the printer in the lobby. I love unlocking my office door every morning, and sitting down at my desk. I love opening up my work email account, and sifting through all of the messages that have accumulated overnight, and trying to figure out what is relevant to me and what isn't. I love when we get to go for meetings in the boardroom. I love when coworkers ask for my input and acutally take it into account, since I'm just an intern. I love making small talk at the water cooler (acutally!).

An office culture is one that I've never experienced, and I just can't get enough. While some things still baffle me ( like when you call someone in the next office, and you can hear them clearly through the hall, so the phone really isn't necessary...?), overall, I just love love love it! The other day, the work van broke down, so they arranged a car to take me to work. I was picked up by this really nice car, with tinted windows and a super classy interior.I remember looking down and my skirt and heels and blouse, and feeling like such an adult. For a month, I've felt kind of like a kid "playing office", but the more time that goes by, the more I feel like I really do belong here.

I could see myself doing a job like this forever. I remember coming home from my very first day at Save-on-Foods and going on and on about how scanning groceries was the funnest experience of my life, and how I could be a cashier forever, but this feeling is so different. I mean, yes, there is still a high amount of novelty associated with coming to work, but the thing is, I enjoy it more and more every day, not less. So it can't be all novelty, because that wears off over time.

The best part is that this job feels so meaninful. Instead of working for a huge big greedy corporation, I'm working for a group that does so much good. The course I'm taking in the fall, "Intro to Non-profit Management" is something I just can't wait for! There are so many different avenues you can take in business, and I'm getting a really great view of all the departments, and what everyone does, and I find it so exciting. A career in communications or management look amazing... I am just so inspired, I can't imagine leaving at the end of the summer... It will be so hard to return to the life of a university student who works and studies full time, but knowing that it will get me closer to being able to do this as a career will helpfully push me through it.

Nothing beats the feeling of finishing a project you've been working for a month on. I finished the partnership documents today, and it feels so amazing. Then we sent out an email today requesting info from all of the sub-offices and co-workers here requesting information so that I can compile the Triennial report, and I can't even wait until it starts coming in so I can get a start on that. I am just loving every second of being here, and I'm trying to learn everything I possibly can. I feel like the luckiest girl in the world.

-Delaney xo

The Funeral

JUST FOR A WHILE

You walk about hurriedly
You drive by much too fast
Rushing past too serious
You worry too much
Slow down for a while and look around again

Take time to look around
To observe the glory of a blossoming flower
The grace of a playful kitten
Hear again the gurgling of the crystal stream
The musical ring of children’s laughter
Take time and savour the pleasure of a sunny day
Small things you say, for which you have no time

You are too busy accumulating money you will never spend
But do not forget you are only human
You can only sleep on one bed, drive one car
You can only eat much in a day
Ease the pleasure on your ego

Pause for a little while and recount your blessing
Your healthy body and mind
The precious gift of those who love you
The innocence of the children, the beauty of women
Life has been too kind to you
Stop and thank your neglected God

Thus take time off for these things that are so small
Yet so important that life is made of them
To breathe the crisp morning air
To exercise your body, appease your spirit
Stop just for a while
And live anew

Kinuthia Murugu

Everyone at the Africa Regional Office has been so welcoming and accomodating since I got here last month. They have really made me feel like part of the office family. As with any family, they stick together in the bad times as well as the good times. As I mentioned in my last post, Kinuthia Murugu, the old Regional Director here at the Africa Regional Office, died last week, as a result of injuries he sustained during a carjacking last month. The entire office went to the funeral, so naturally I attended as a show of support for these wonderful people who have been so unwaveringly kind to me.

While I was hoping to experience as many cultural events as possible this summer, it never crossed my mind that a funeral might be one of them. When Murugu left the Scout office, it was to pursue a government job, as Permanent Secretary of the Youth and Sports Ministry. Because he was a government employee, it became a state funeral, which was quite an experience.

We all met at a central location in town together to head to the funeral. Everyone was dressed in an official Scout uniform with the token purple ribbon around their necks (while I didnt have the uniform, they did give me a ribbon so that it would be identified that I was with them). We drove through town to Starehe Boy's School, which is one of the best schools in Kenya. While it is an incredibly beautiful, presigous boarding school, I was happy to learn that instead of catering to rich families, it accepts exceptionally bright underprivelaged children. This was to be the site of the the first part of the day: the memorial service.

We took our seats outside, where there were many large white tents, with hundreds of chairs spread across the grass. A few minutes later, 2 of our coworkers (who had been pallbearers much earlier in the morning at the funeral home) came out from the chapel to tell us that there were several pews saved for the office staff inside right near the front of the chapel. We were seated inside by 9am. The service was scheduled to begin at 10, but because the President and Prime Minister were attending (!!!) the service didn't begin until at least 10:30. It wasn't over until almost 3pm! That meant we sat in the hard, wooden pews for 6 straight hours!

The service wasn't really what I was expecting. The reason it was so long was that there were SO many speeches given, from past coworkers, Murugu's son, his best friend, the President, the Prime Minister, etc. Given that a normal Sunday church service can go for 4 hours, I was expecting alot more preaching, instead of the 45 minutes or so that happened yesterday. Also, everyone was very stoic. I don't think I saw anyone cry. His son (who was only 14 or so) choked up at one point during his speech (bringing me very close to tears!) but that was the biggest outward display of emotion I saw all day.

Once the service ended, we all hurried to the van to head to Murugu's land outside of town, where he was to be buried. We had packed the van with food that morning, so since we were all famished, we devoured our food on the way to the site. The girls from the office had ordered packed lunches (a sandwich and an apple), and I brought along bananas and a small bag of mixed nuts for everyone, it was plenty of food to get by. The drive out of town took ages, it was the start of rush hour, and there were SO many people at the funeral that we were heading to the grave site as well.

Somehow, although we left immediately after the service and drove straight there, we were late! This was the part of the day where we were supposed to lay the wreath at the grave. We pulled up on the opposite side of this enormous ravine. This whole area was where they grow world famous tea leaves, and the ground is pure red powdered dirt. We literally RAN down the steep slope of this ravine, charged up the other side, and arrived at the grave panting, at the exact second that they announced "World Scout Bureau". One of the guys from the office dashed up and grabbed the wreath, and layed it right in time. Then there was a short prayer, and everyone was given a rose or a handful of dirt to throw into the grave, and that was the end of the service.

We stood around quietly joking and laughing about our run across the the ravine, and then gathered everyone up for the walk back to the van. This time, since we obviously weren't late for anything, we slowly sauntered around the valley back to the van. The most exciting thing happened! We saw the Presidential caravan drivng up towards us, and I got a picture of the president's car!! Now, you have to understand, this is a huge no-no. You aren't allowed to take pictures at the Statehouse, or of the President's car. I had been begging Amos (who I had lent my camera to in order to take pictures all day, since he knows when its appropriate to take pictures and when it isn't) to take a picture of the President's car, but he wouldn't. When it drove up, he handed me the camera, and I grabbed a quick snap, and then waved at the President! Sometimes, being an "oblivious-to-the-rules" tourist really pays off!!

It was funny being away from the downtown part of the city. I was the only mzungu that I could see at the burial site, and some of the local village children would literally point open-mouthed at me. As Euloge (another co-worker) pointed out, many of them rarely, if ever, see a white person. It also garnered a huge laugh when a whole truckload of soldiers gaped openmouthed at me and then started waving as they drove by; all the guys from my office teased me mercilessly about it, telling everyone I had new soldier boyfriends.

The drive back into town was probably one of the funnest times I've had since I got here. (It seems so horrible to look back on the day of a funeral as one of my best memories here, but it's like at the end of an emotional day like yesterday, everyone needs to just relax and try and allieviate some of the tension and sadness, you know?). While everyone at the office is so nice to me, until yesterday, it had never progressed past "Hi, how are you? Are you enjoying Kenya? How's the weather" kind of small talk. On the drive home yesterday, it finally crossed into friend territory. I learned about people's wives (or lack thereof), I saw pictures of their children, I learned about who went to University, and where, and what they studied. They asked me all sorts of questions about Canada, and University back home, and mortgages, and marriage in Canada, and social customs, and the difference between here and there. It was just to nice to relate to these people that I see every day on a much more personal level. It was definitely reminiscient of elementary school, when the bus ride is the best part of a field trip, and you almost don't want to arrive at your destination because you are having such a good time!

On a different note, things at work are going really well. I have finished my contribution to the "Connecting Africa's Youth for Change" project proposal, and they informed me that they will take my draft, and really get the ball rolling on this project, which is such an accomplishment. I also had my meeting Tuesday afternoon to develop a framework and plan in order to finish the 2005-2008 Triennial Report by the time I go home. I'm so excited to get a start on that, so now that the ball is rolling there too, I can't wait (although embarking on my final project is a little bittersweet, I don't want to think about going home yet!!).

I've also started to experience my first touch of frustration about life in the business world. I am acting as sort of a liason between UFV and the office here in order to develop a Memorandum of Understanding (an informal partnership contract between the two entities). Every time one side is ready to sign, the other side wants revisions. Then when everyone is happy and ready to sign, no one is in the same town at the same time. And then more revisions are requested...and so it continues... However, if a little red tape is the least of my concerns, I certainly can't complain.

Outside of the office, not much is new... The girls are going to Somaliland next week for 8 days as a part of their internship. I'm so glad Graham is here, I can't imagine how lonely I'd be here alone, even for 8 days. I don't know how the past UFV interns handled it, I couldn't imagine being alone here all summer long!

We are trying to plan the rest of out summer. We might make a weekend trip to Hell's Gate National Park to go on a cycling trip through super cool valleys and gorges and stuff. And hopefully, we are going to be able to spend the last week in Mombasa thanks to Heather's parents, and their timeshare. It's right on the Indian Ocean, so it's tropical, gorgeous, and hot!!! Considering that we will be getting home and starting school 5 days later, it would be great to get a little relaxing vacation time in before then!

Oh! Back to office talk... There are so many cute little monkeys that live outside the office, the other day we fed them bananas, there were 7 that came right up to the window. As I speak, I have my camera poised and bananas ready for when they come back (usually around 10am, they are on a pretty tight schedule out there!). Hopefully I'll get some awesome pictures!!!!

Thats all for today, hopefully I find something else exciting to report soon!

-Delaney xo

The Scary Side of Nairobi...

"For nothing is fixed, forever and forever and forever, it is not fixed; the earth is always shifting, the light is always changing, the sea does not cease to grind down rock. Generations do not cease to be born, and we are responsible to them because we are the only witnesses they have. The sea rises, the light fails, lovers cling to each other, and children cling to us. The moment we cease to hold each other, the sea engulfs us and the light goes out. -James Baldwin"

There is a sadness hanging over the office today. Kinuthia Murugu, who used to be the Regional Director here in the office, died during the night. This story epitomizes the way life is in Nairobi.

On June, I received an email that was circulated around the office, informing everyone that Murugu had been shot the night before. He was driving home at night, and his car was surrounded by bandits, who shot him four times in the chest and shoulder. A civilian heard the shots, ran outside, and got him to the hospital. He spent a week or two in the intensive care unit, and was then moved into the normal ward last week. Obviously, we all took this as a good sign, however, now we find out that it was simply a case of someone in worse condition than him that bumped him out of ICU before he was ready. I still don’t have many details, simply that he was moved back to ICU, where he died sometime last night or early this morning.

The mood was very sombre in the work van this morning; some had heard on the radio (Murugu was some sort of government official now, making his death actual news for the public), a few had received phone calls, and an unfortunate few had to be told in the van this morning. The mood is naturally very sad today, in a tightknit group of people like here in this office, I can imagine that its more like losing a family member than a colleague.

The "Connecting Africa's Youth for Change" proposal that I have been revising and updating for the last few weeks was originally written by Murugu. Although I never had a chance to meet him, this just further inspires me to do an amazing job finishing this proposal. I believe so much in this project, and now I feel even more motivated to do an amazing job in his memory.

This is the scary part about life in Nairobi. It's easy to get caught up in the mundane, day to day life that we live here and forget that we are living in such a dangerous city. I mean, I get picked up and dropped off at my doorstep every day for work, I never go ANYWHERE alone, and I'm never on the streets after dark, which I think has given me a false sense of security in this town. I mean, I don't think I could be any more cautious, really. But it's easy to lose sight of all the risks that we are facing here.

The scariest risks are probably hijackings/carjackings/kidnappings... the best you can do is lock your doors at all times and stay out of bad neighbourhoods, but even Murugu was shot in a safe neighbourhood that we drive through daily. Additional risks on the road include the corrupt police force. If they see a carload of "mzungus", apparently they will pull you over and find any excuse to fine you ridiculous amounts of money. In the past two weeks, Cherie and Amanda both had separate experiences. If you refuse to pay, they may drag you to court, which will land you in jail indefinitely. In other words, just give them what they want (within reason). I only carry the smallest amount of cash possible wherever I go, so that if I ever ended up in that situation, I wouldn't break the bank giving them all the cash I have on me! It's so frusterating!! You don't want to fuel the corruption by giving in to their demands, but you really don't have a choice...

Just a warning, the following stories are pretty chilling and/or graphic...

Probabely the scariest story I've heard yet happened to a missionary we heard about through Marg (Cherie's mom). Apparently this is a huge scam that happens: Bandits will kidnap someone and kill them, then they will take the body and lurk at the side of a dark road. Then the innocent person comes driving along, and the bandits will throw the body on the hood of the car. When the driver stops, assuming he has hit and killed a person, the bandits come out of the side of the road dressed as police, and basically extort the hell out of the innocent driver, telling them if they don't pay up, they will be charged with murder, blah blah blah... It's absolutely terrifying, and it makes me so glad we do not acutally have to drive here. There are only 3 people that I ever really drive with: Elly, and our 2 favorite cab drivers, Moses and Erastus. It is really great, everyone has cell phones here, so you just call up your cabby pal when you need to get around, and within minutes they are right there at your doorstep. It makes us feel alot safer driving around with people we know.

Another truly chilling story happened to our friend Hallie when she was working in Kibera. One day she was taking pictures of the kids playing, and they all ran over to see the pictures on the screen of the camera (all the kids are just fascinated by digital cameras). While she was holding the camera far away from her so all the kids could see the screen, a thief came up, grabbed the camera and ran off with it. She hollered out, and said that within seconds, up to 15 men went chasing after the theif. As common as theft is here, it is not respected by the majority of the law abiding locals. Here, theft is a terrible offense, one punishible by death. So amazingly, these men chased the theif through the narrow alleys and wove in between the tiny houses until the caught the man and got her camera back. For the record, the "man" was actually a young boy, about 16 years old.

So they dragged him back to the area where he had stolen the camera, and started beating on him. He was curled in a ball while the 15 men kicked and beat on him while Hallie watched, absolutely horrified. When one of the women lifted up a huge rock and was going to stone him, Hallie cried out and probably saved the mans life. It was astounding. They were going to kill him over stealing her camera. Granted, stealing is wrong, but no one deserves to lose their life over something so silly. When I was repeating the story to Elly the next morning, he told me the kid was lucky. Often, in similar circumstances, they will put a spare tire around a theifs neck, douse it with gasoline, and light a match...

It is so hard to believe that such barbaric acts are carried out here so normally. Mob mentality is a scary, scary concept. Once again, it makes me so happy for the feeling of security we have at home. I honestly feel like I could stroll down East Hastings with thousands of dollars of cash on me now, and not even bat an eye. Its hard to decide what are percieved risks and what risks are real, but I'm a firm believer in being safe rather than sorry, so this whole trip I've erred on the side of caution, which will definitely continue until I am back home safe in Canada!

-Delaney xo

Kenyan Kids and Canadian Mzungus

"If hope was a person, it would be a child. No matter what the tradgedy or circumstance, his true nature always shines through" - Take the Walk

As it turns out, being a Canadian/Westerner/white person makes you somewhat of a celebrity to Kenyan kids. Along the same lines as a "gringo", we are now "Mzungus", aka white people (we are still a little unclear as to whether "mzungu" includes everyone with white skin, or specifically caucasians, but anyway...)

Graham was the first one to fill us in on this phenomrnon because of the time he spend in Kisumu. We didn't get the full experience until we spent the day in Kibera. It was hilarious. When kids see you, they come running up to you "Mzungu, mzungu, how are you". All of them say "how are you" in the funniest little nasal voice, apparently thats how we sound to them. Every child you pass says this to you! Even the 2 and 3 year olds say it to you, and you can tell they don't even know what they are saying because they slur the words until they are barely untelligible. They just know that's what they say to us white folk whenever they see us. Even funnier is the fact that even the big kids, who seem like they would know what they are saying, seem totally stumped when you answer "I'm fine, how are you??".

It was absolutely crazy! Every single child we passed would say "How are you??"... Some would come right up and grab your hand and walk for blocks with you not even saying a world...the more timid kids would cower in their doorways, and just mouth the words without a peep. But no exaggeration (I know, hard to believe, coming from me) EVERY kid takes part in the "How are you" chorus. (I have to mention that at one point so many kids were chanting it that Graham acutally held his hands up and pretended to be an orchestra conductor..haha!)

The kids are so fascinated by us...They barely have any body hair, so they can't get over playing with our arm hair. And the hair on our heads, it fascinates them. At the orphanage, every day the girls take out our hair and play with it for as long as we'll let them. Sometimes they will put it in little braids and twists (which are a total pain to take out since they get so tangled and caked with dirt), where as other days they are perfectly content to just stand there and stroke our hair softly. Other times they will just hold our hands in theirs and examine our palms, or gently trace our blue veins with their fingertips.



Some of the kids are just so damn sweet you wouldn't believe it. They day of our Kibera cleanup, at the end of the route was a little bridge, we sat down for a few minutes to rest beside Derek, a cute little boy about 10 years old, dressed in a camo pant and jacket set. He was quiet for a few minutes, but slowly he started talking to us while we sat there. Then it was time to walk into town for the infamous (and SUPER fabulous) street food. The mundazis (deep fried bread balls, basically) were about 25c each, so since my pal Derek hasn't left my side, I bought him one, and basically made a friend for life. By the time I offered him the last inch of coke (that I'd bought for about 50c) he was basically ready to propose!! We went back to watch a bit of a community soccer game, where he promtly introduced me to his brother. I'm serious, if Dad offered him a dowry, I'd be a married woman right now! Haha! When it was time to leave, he asked if he could get my number, and promised he'd call me from his moms phone. It was SO funny! He was so cute, I had to let him down gently!




-Delaney xo