Sharon and Brian Go to AFRICA

You don't call, you don't write

2010-11-11T11:57:00.000-08:00

Hey team --

Not sure if anyone still gets notices from this blog (or even if that's how some of you are following it), but if you are, I wanted to share some of the pictures I recently got from Bro Alfred, our main contact with the Missionaries of the Poor in Kampala. The new Busega Children's Home that we spent a day working at is completed and he passed along pictures from the opening celebrations. There are also pictures from a visit from the founder of Missionaries of the Poor, Fr. Ho Lung (he sticks out as the Asian guy amidst the Africans). You'll also see some of the newer Brothers "graduating" from the beige to the blue sash, meaning they have become professed Brothers. Finally, there's some pictures from the Good Shepherd Home where we spent most of our time with the Brothers working with the residents and feeding the school children, both of whom you see. The little guy with two stumps where his arms should be (playing the harmonica in one photo) is the same one I talked about in my post from Kampala who cried if anyone tried to feed him....he just wanted a long-handled spoon so he could feed himself.

The new home (red roof) looks great and it was really incredible to see familiar faces from our time there looking well and happy!

Finally, after much debate and writing a million essays in my mind, I've decided to put some of my thoughts about medical school to paper (as it were in the digital age). Some of you had asked/encouraged me to do so after reading this blog, so I thought I'd share that with you: sharonmed.blogspot.com.

Link to the Busega pictures:

Busega pics

Photos!

2010-07-19T08:30:00.000-07:00

Selected photos from the trip are located here because Facebook is annoying:
http://picasaweb.google.com/sharon.r.weeks/AfricaEdited?authkey=Gv1sRgCJ70qOuTndn-DQ#

The continent is perpetually backlit, so we apologize in advance.

Enjoy!

End of the Road

2010-07-15T17:34:00.000-07:00

Day 50 - Wednesday July 14th, Atlantic, Atlanta, DC

We survived our 16.5 hour flight, direct from Joburg to Atlanta, and landed back in the land of humidity and Southern accents around 8am. Both felt like the nectar of the gods. We hurried through immigration and customs just as fast as we could and rushed across the 63528 terminals at ATL in an attempt to make our 9:35 connection to Dulles. We arrived at the gate around 9:27 to find the door closed and no Delta attendant at the gate. There was a rebooking area nearby where we were informed to rebook our flight. Having expected them to hold the plane for us and the several other passengers on our flight trying to make the same connection, and exhausted by having traveled for about 24 hours at this point, I got on the rebooking phone very prepared to give some poor hourly employee a piece of my mind.

I was informed, as if I should be really excited by Delta efficiency, that we'd already been rebooked to the 1:33pm flight to Dulles. That's all well and good, but I was curious as to why I paid a ridiculous amount of money for two tickets (we'll decline saying just how much out of modesty and the fact that the memory might just cause me to regurgitate my lunch all over the keyboard. But let's just say we were certainly victims of extreme price increases for the World Cup) and they were incapable of holding the plane for 5 minutes. The kind lady informed me that ATC will cancel the flight if the gate door isn't closed 15 minutes before departure time. Now I'm no expert on the matter, and perhaps ATL, as busy as it is, has different policies, but I've certainly been on other flights where the connection comes in late and they hold the plane for 10 minutes or so...or longer. Not to mention the random other delays we've all experienced that have resulted in temporary delaying of the closing of the gate door....none of which has ever resulted in flight cancellation. I informed not-so-kind lady of these previous experiences and politely inquired as to why Delta's policies were so much more idiotic. She simply repeated her pack of lies as I became increasingly agitated. Luckily I at least got the satisfaction of ending the conversation with "well thank you for you help; this will most certainly be my last flight on Delta. Goodbye."

With a ton of time to kill, we eased ourselves back into America by promptly hitting Ben & Jerry's, Starbucks, and the Sports Scene where we had chili nachos and chili burgers. I think we both lost some weight in the past two months and it's important that we don't return home looking thin. That's just un-American. Everyone knows this.

The final flight back was uneventful, although we were entertained by a guy who'd just spent a few months in Ghana and told us all about West Africa. And oil spills.

Brian's mom and brother met us at the airport and even brought America-themed leis for us, which did a lot to ameliorate my distress at missing the Fourth of July.

It's great to be back -- we're glad to get to catch the second half of summer, and shower with hot water and use a towel afterwards, and use our smartphones when we get lost (I know, so spoiled), and have conversations in English that are not hindered by very heavy accents or limited vocabulary. In short, it's good to be home.

We also loaded all the pictures we took (754 of them) onto my computer and hopefully I'll get organized soon to edit and post the interesting ones either here or somewhere else. (I'll post a link here if I decide on elsewhere).

Thanks for following along! (if there's anyone actually out there...my mother says there is, but I'm pretty sure she has to say that because she's my mother -- hi Ma!)

Coming to America

2010-07-14T05:50:00.001-07:00

Day 49 - Tuesday July 13th, Joburg and the Atlantic Ocean

We got up today, packed up our stuff, said goodbye to our middle-aged (and adorable) Venezuelan roommates, and checked out of the Ball n Kicka hostel for the third and final time.

We had to carry our stuff around all day and wanted to pick up a few more things, so didn't have a lot planned. We headed to what turned out to be the rich people mall in the northern suburb of Sandton. I don't think I've ever seen so many high end jewelry stores in one place. We picked up a couple gifts and tried to get our VAT refund. After close to 2 hours in line, we decided we weren't going to get seen before the place closed and so just headed to the airport early, arriving five hours before our plane was to depart. After dinner, we figured we might as well check in since we had nothing better to do. It was a good thing we did since between two hours in line to check in and another two in the VAT refund line (we better buy the sweetest thing available with those 20 bucks), we just had a few minutes to kill before boarding (and only then because the flight got delayed almost an hour). We decided we'd basically been in line from 1-9pm. An exciting way to end the trip, to be sure. Especially since these were lines South African style, which means every rule you thought applied to lines was wrong.

I don't know that we're excited to leave as we've had a great time, but I think we've both reached a level of frustration with some African-isms that we'll be happy to be leaving behind. One of the top two is certainly the feeling of being hassled all the time - I think Brian mentioned in a previous post about feeling like people viewed him as a walking dollar sign and I feel like that kind of experience has only become more common. The second is the whole culture of negotiation that just doesn't fit well with an American's sensibilities about how monetary transactions should work. While some people relish bargaining at the market, it gets annoying when every time you take a cab you have to have a confrontation as you attempt to figure out just how high a white person price the cab driver has quoted you. (An aside - a white South African before the game in PE angrily, and profanely, demanded the "African price" for a pack of cigarettes at a convenience store). Coming to the airport today, the cabbie was insisting on 450 rand (about 60 USD). The fact that he settled for 300 Rand (about 40 USD) after a few minutes of arguing (and presumably was still profiting at that price) really underscored how ridiculous his first offer was. When you have experiences like that at least daily, you start to feel like everyone's out to rip you off, which isn't an awesome way to go through life. There's other small cultural differences that just begin to wear you down after a while.

On the plus side for South Africa, the World Cup really was well done and I think went a long way to dispelling fears that an African host country couldn't pull it off. I think there's rightfully a lot of pride in all of Africa about how well it went. (A counter argument to that is that given SA's limited infrastructure and remote location, the tournament was inaccessible to the masses of the world because of the relative high expenses compared to other Cups. Obviously there's no real stats on this, but anecdotal evidence has suggested that a lot less foreigners came to this Cup without tickets in hand, thus cutting down on untamed crowds outside stadiums, etc.. on the flip side, it was also a Cup that was very accessible to a lot of South Africans, who had special, cheaper, tickets exclusively available to them. Not sure where I'm going here; pretty sure I've just entered rambling territory. Exiting now.)

I've had a great time experiencing the World Cup; it's easy to see how people get addicted and go to Cup after Cup. We've spoken with people from Canada, Mexico, Venezuela, Brazil, Argentina, Chile, Paraguay, Ghana, Nigeria, Portugal, Spain, England, Sweden, Norway, Russia, France, Germany, Slovenia, Algeria, Tunisia, Bangladesh, Korea, Australia, Tazmania, and I'm sure others I'm forgetting right now. We've had meals in Spanish and taxi rides in French. We got to cheer on America not once, but twice, in very very exciting games. We've cursed referees, opposing players, and the fashion sense of the Dutch with the best of them. We saw close to every game live and eight in person (okay, seven for me, but it's the thought that counts). We've taken Greyhound SA more times than we care to remember, tested out the Cape Town matatus and Joburg buses, and gone to games in five different stadiums. We saw two oceans as well as springboks, zebras, baboons, ostriches, penguins, dassies, and all kinds of birds (ask Brian, he loves the birds). So despite any difficulties and annoyances we might have run into, I think South Africa treated us to a pretty good time.

Table Mountain fotografia

2010-07-12T10:30:00.001-07:00

This is how exciting waiting in line for the Table Mountain cablecar is. From left to right: Martin, us, Trish, and some random Dutch guy who wanted to be in all our pictures.

http://www.beenthere.tv/ViewImage.aspx?SiteID=28&Date=2010-7-6-4-11-9-PM&ImageID=173889

World Cup final: the morning after

2010-07-12T10:23:00.001-07:00

End of a soccer era

2010-07-12T04:59:00.001-07:00

Day 46-48, Sat-Mon July 10-12, Johannesburg

Our bus ride back to Joburg was a record-setting 20+ hours long for both of us. It was less painful than our other rides, either because the seats were more comfortable or because we're just getting better at this, but I think we're both quite content to have ended our relationship with Greyhound South Africa. Thanks guys, it hasn't been that fun.

Saturday we got back to Joburg late afternoon and walked back to the hostel, threw our stuff down, and raced off to make our tour at the SAB World of Beer. This tour explained the history OD beer starting from ancient times and was filled with an unbelievable number of comically narrated videos and over-the-top scenary. We tasted traditional African beer made from sorgham, pellets of hops, various malts (yes, those last two were are odd and gross as they sound), and finally two SAB beers. It was well worth the 3 dollar entrance fee, if only for how epically silly it was at times (and two beers helped as well).

Exhausted from the ride, we called it an early night to ensure we would be prepared for the final the next day.

Sunday, the day of the final, was another beautiful one
After failing to find the local Catholic church (It wasn't where Google maps said it was), and failing to find a spot to eat that was open and wasn't McDonald's, we settled into the courtyard sun of the hostel to get our read on.

The Argentinians had other plans an were grilling, drinking, and dancing up a storm. We were lucky enough to be invited to join and had an incredibly awesome afternoon of Argentine asada and fellowship. I made the comment that my favorite thing about South Africa was the Argentinians and I think I might stand by that remark. We've had the great opportunity to meet quite a number of great people from our very first day in SA and it's definitely been one of the best parts of being in a host country for the World Cup.

We took a taxi with an American and some French folks to a viewing area to watch the final (the Argentines were headed to the stadium to try to sneak in to the match). There were thousands and thousands of people there and it was crazy..and really fun.

We ended up coming back to the hostel before the end of the game and watched the end there. It was pretty exciting and Iniesta was my favorite Spanish player, so I was happy he got the winning goal.

Monday we had a leisurely day reading, eating, and doing laundry (very exciting). Watching the post World Cup press conference was a good chance to reflect on the tournament. It's hard to overstate, I think, how proud Africans, and specifically South Africans, are to be hosts to this tournament. Nelson Mandela is worshipped here and this Cup is considered by many part of his legacy. The FIFA secretary noted that Desmond Tutu was dancing for joy during the opening SA game and had only seen him dancing previously when voting for the first time in 1994. Yesterday was the 47th anniversary of the arrests of the Rivonia trialists (the trial where Mandela was sent to prison) and the day of the first World Cup final on African soil. Whether these parallels and comparisons of landmarks are appropriate or not is up for debate, but they give you an idea of how this tournament is viewed here.

Wining and Dining

2010-07-12T04:58:00.001-07:00

Day 45 - Friday July 9th, Stellenbosch

Today we made a booking for a tour of a winery out in wine country, east of Cape Town. We had some trouble missing the first train and had to wait an hour for the next one, but other than that, made it to the town of Stellenbosch uneventfully.

The winery was within walking distance of the train station and when we arrived, realized we'd be the only people on the tour. Our private VIP tour began, cleverly, with a wine tasting of five different wines (included in our $3.50 tour price). The tasting took place in their wine cellar, which is the only one in the Southern Hemisphere that is built into a mountain. We had an unfiltered Sauvignon Blanc, which was delicious, and even Brian, who doesn't really like white wine, enjoyed. We had a second white wine, Chenin Blanc, which was also very good. It was a little weird being on our little private tour, because we had to tell our guide whether or not we enjoyed the wine and make small talk about it, which was a little difficult given my limited vocabulary on the subject. We then moved to two reds, one of which was a pinotage, a grape that is a hybrid grown only in South Africa and developed just down the road at the University of Stellenbosch. We finished with a dessert wine and were now ready for the tour itself.

We saw all the distilling and cooling tanks as well as bottling, labeling, and packing machinery. We also got to see all the barrels that the wine IA aged in. It was a cool tour and sadly we had to run out to catch our train back to Cape Town so we could be on time for our overnight bus back to Johannesburg.

**edited to correct wine names -- the Droid auto-correct isn't always helpful

Robben Island

2010-07-12T04:57:00.001-07:00

Day 44 - Thursday July 8th, Cape Town

Today we went to Robben Island, the prison off the coast where political prisoners were held during the apartheid era. We took a 30 minute ferry out there and then had about an hour bus tour around the island. We saw all the main non-prison sights at that point, including the church and cemetery from when the island served as a leper colony as well as the limestone quarry where Nelson Mandela worked. Our bus tour guide, Kent, was quite the colorful character and we enjoyed his narration.

After the bus tour, we got a tour of the prison from a former prisoner. I realized that he hadn't even been born when Mandela was first imprisoned, which did more than anything to underscore the absurd amount of time Mandela was in prison an highlight how long Mama arduous the struggle against apartheid was. We saw the larger communal cells (including the cell of our guide), the courtyard where they played games and where Mandela buried the manuscript of his autobiography which I'm currently reading, and the building with single cells used for those considered to be dangerous among the leadership. There we saw the cell where Mandela spent 18 of his 30 years in prison.

It was a very interesting experience especially to be led around by a former prisoner. Our guide had left South Africa to get military training in Angola to resist the apartheid regime and was arrested when he returned to the country. He was imprisoned and tortured for 6 months in Johannesburg before being tried and sentenced to seven years (I think...) on Robben Island.

The ferry was delayed coming back, so we didn't have time to do much else before returning to the hostel. We did make a quick walk up to see the stadium, but weren't allowed to get very close, so didn't see that much.

Imma climb that there mountain

2010-07-12T04:55:00.001-07:00

Day 42, Tuesday July 6th, Cape Town

Our internet dealings the day before had told us it would almost certainly rain on Tuesday, so we sadly pushed hiking back another day. As we slowly got moving late morning, Martin found us to say they were going to the mountain today and we could hitch a ride. Considering we could have spent quite a bit of money just getting there and back, we quickly agreed. Plus those kids really are a ton of fun.

The rain held off all day and we convinced Martin and Trish to climb the mountain with us instead of taking the cable car up. Martin agreed and Trish said nothing, so off we went. She grew to regret her silence.

I'm not going to lie, the hike was pretty difficult. Although I guess I haven't done anything more strenuous than walking for six weeks, so maybe I'm not the best source. It's about 1000 meters increase in elevation and the hike is more or less straight up the freaking mountain. I think Trish immediately regretted agreeing to such a strenuous time, made easier, for us at least, by the fact that Martin kept giving her an incredibly hard time about everything. And the two of us as well, when the moment struck him. Luckily we still found it all hilarious and there's no better person to have with you on a tough hike than someone who just talks non-stop.

It took about two hours to get to the top, and we were going along at a pretty good clip. It was freezing and windy at the top, but the views really were fantastic. And we saw some weird weird animal called a dassie. Very odd. And by very odd, I mean very ugly.

We got some hot drinks and, with it getting colder and the sun going down (and our legs aching), we made a group decision that it was okay to take the cable car down instead of hiking. It took about one minute to get down. It was so fast it was almost depressing. But the views were great and we took a bunch of funny photos for free while in line with two crazy Dutchmen (find them at beenthere.tv. I haven't been able to get to the site myself yet, so if they're as bad as I remember them, just tell me you couldn't find them).

We headed to the store to get more food and returned to the hostel for more domestic living. We caught the semi between Uruguay and the Netherlands at the hostel - the game was in Cape Town and we'd thought about going to the fan fest downtown for the atmosphere. Unfortunately, the ticket station was closed at our station and we headed back to the hostel. There we learned that you simply buy a ticket at the end of your trip...which is weird. By that point though, we'd already walked back to the hostel and resigned ourselves to being warm for the rest of the night so decided not to venture out. It was a fun game to watch, but I was pulling for Uruguay (okay mainly just Diego Forlan, my favorite non-US player from the very beginning of the tourney), so I was a little disappointed.

We were planning on hrading down the Cape peninsula the next day, with its charming fishing towns, penguin colony (seriously), and the Cape of Good Hope. We were probably going to have to pay a fortune in cabs since both the penguins and Cape are inaccessible by train, so were pretty excited when Martin and Trish invited us to tag along with them again.

Pics from V&A Waterfront

2010-07-12T03:00:00.004-07:00

History and beaches

2010-07-11T03:17:00.001-07:00

Day 41 - Monday July 5th, Cape Town

We had grand plans to hike up and down Table Mountain (about 5 hours roundtrip...rather than take the cablecar up for the views), but awoke to a very grey sky. Other hostel guests said it would probably rain, so we nixed that idea. Other than the downside of getting wet, the entire (or at least most of) the motivation for hiking the mountain were the incredible views from the summit - getting there to find the sights obstructed by clouds/fog didn't sound that awesome.

We decided to postpone the hike by a day and instead took the train downtown (about 1 USD one way per person...transport troubles solved. As long as we traveled between 7am and 6pm when the train was considered safe). We headed to the District 6 museum, located in, believe it or not, the historic District 6 in Johannesburg. This was one of the more famous areas affected by government legislation during the apartheid era that would classify sections of land (good sections, obviously) as "white only," forcing any non-whites (in District 6, that was virtually everyone) to move to black or coloured areas..."townships", usually located outside the city, even if they owned their house or had lived in the area for generations. District 6 was an exceptionally vibrant community and, being in downtown Joburg, was an area in which the govt strictly inforced the law and removal of families, followed by the bulldozing of their homes. Over some 15 years, over 60,000 residents were re-located. The museum is dedicated to preserving the memory of that community and explaining the history of the apartheid era and was really interesting as it drew on many firsthand accounts from former residents.

The day turned out to be another beautiful one and we bemoaned the fact that the summit of Table Mountain looked incredibly clear. We grabbed lunch, hit the internet cafe for updates and more planning for the week, and explored downtown some more. Given how nice a day it was and how crowded the week's schedule was getting with the postponement of hiking, we decided to take a quick jaunt out to Camps Bay for the afternoon.

We got there by rikki, or shared taxi, and picked up (and dropped off) and elderly gentleman and an even more elderly lady along the way. They were a riot; the woman showed us a picture of her husband and a lion he'd killed from about 100 years ago, the old man made almost inappropriate jokes (you get to do that when you're old, I've learned) and counseled us to not ever have children because then you are tied down and can't enjoy life. A riot, like I'd said. We got to Camps Bay, a beautiful wealthy suburb just south of Cape Town and hit the beach, Atlantic style. Not two days before, we'd been at the Indian Ocean, so we fancied ourselves quite the travelers. We took the difficult route to boulder onto some huge rocks in the sea and admired the views of being at the beach with a huge mountain looming overhead. We got a drink and tried to find a more economical way back to town and the train station than calling a cab, even a shared one. The bus didn't seem to come, ever, but I spotted a mutation driver yelling "Cape Town" and we jumped in. I figured if we could handle mutatus in Kenya and Uganda, we could surely pass muster here.

We did and it was about 1/10 the price of a shared taxi. We headed to the grocery store to get some goods for dinner and took the train back to the hostel to cook ourselves dinner and get laundry done. All very domestic. It was weird having no soccer to watch, but we caught up with Martin and Trish, my first introduction to them, and spent the evening recounting our travels and comparing notes on Africa, the Cup, and traveling in general. They've been traveling for about six months now, having gone all through Asia before coming to South Africa, so they certainly had some stories to tell. That and they are both just fantastically hilarious people who have funny accents and love to talk - the perfect recipe for an entertaining time.

Arrival in Cape Town

2010-07-11T03:15:00.001-07:00

Day 40 - Sunday July 4th, Cape Town

We arrived in Cape Town this morning - another very long bus ride - around 10am. I woke up on the bus not incredibly well rested, but excited. The Fourth of July is maybe my favorite holiday and though we were far from the land of freedom and fireworks, I was determined to still have a great one...find some beers, maybe a hot dog, and hopefully some stuff to blow up. We were renting a whole (very simple) house/flat from a local through airbnb.com, so I was pretty confident some grilling and sitting in the backyard sun like true Americans would actually take place. Unfortunately, we got word from the owner that she had assumed we weren't coming for some reason and had rented it to someone else. She said she had somewhere else we could stay though and said we could talk around 4pm. We texted back asking for the address, got some food and headed down to the waterfront.

It was a beautiful day and the Cape Town V&A Waterfront (Victoria and Albert after the queen and her son, but no one ever calls it that) is pretty spectacular. We lucked out weather-wise - the Cape is normally rainy and cool in the winter, but we got a wonderful sunny warm day to hang out on the water. As Brian said, it sure was nice of them to turn on summer for the 4th. We appreciate that, South Africa. The huge private yachts around the marina were a testament to the wealth of the Cape and probably is part of the reason people rave about the Cape - the wealth and appearance of CT make it feel very Western. Other than the schoolchildren in native dress singing for donations, it would be easy to forget you were in Africa. We also made reservations to go see Robben Island, the prison where many political prisoners, including Nelson Mandela, were held during the apartheid era. I'd picked up "A Long Walk to Freedom" in Nairobi, so it was a sight I really wanted to make sure we got to.

Around 1 or 2, I started to get worried because we still hadn't heard from the flat owner, Liezel. We called, sent texts, and called again and left a voicemail. No response. We waited and waited and the anxiety was killing me (and probably Brian by extension since he was stuck with me) - I had just wanted a shower and some Independence Day wonderfulness and it was beginning to look like we didn't even have beds for the night. A semifinal was being held in Cape Town in two days time, so the city was flooded with visitors and the thought of finding somewhere for a week at this late stage was downright nauseating in how impossible it would be. We started calling hostels I'd written down (from when we thought we might come earlier than our booking was)...they were all full. We asked for recommendations for other places and called them...all full. We continued calling, getting turned down, and asking for recs. The 8th or 9th place we called had availability at low rates (just a bit above what we would have spent on the apt) and we took it immediately. Unfortunately, the place was a 10-15 dollar cab ride from the city center (a little in the boonies, to be honest) and in addition to looking like that would cramp our style the rest of the week (or cost us a ton of money in transport), when we finally ended up there, emotionally exhausted (or maybe that was just me. Yeah, probably just me), any chance of Independence Day wonderful-ness was out the window. I probably took this harder than I should have, but after 6 weeks of traveling in the third world and yet another restless night on a bus criss-crossing the country, I'd just about had it. All I could think about was how great a time my friends in America were having without me on my favorite holiday. I was so distraught I couldn't even finish my free drink.

Brian, saint that he is for putting up with me while I was unhappy, did the best to cheer me up and I was heartened by the fact that the hostel we ended up at was very nice and the people running it seemed great. Growing boy that he is, he went for second dinner in the hostel kitchen while I busied myself with trying to figure out how to fit all the Cape's attractions into the next few days we had available. I decided we'd climb Table Mountain on Monday if the weather was good and Brian met Martin and Trish, a hilarious Australian couple with whom we would end up spending a lot of time. So the day at least ended on a positive note.

Back to PE

2010-07-03T03:50:00.000-07:00

The rest of time you're missing via flashback can be summed up as follows: we got back to Nairobi, I was still really sick, we got to go experience the Kenyan medical system, I got diagnosed with swine flu, we had a really interesting plane ride to Jburg via Ethiopia, and we saw an Argentina game and the US-Slovenia game, which were both INCREDIBLE. You'll have to get all those stories live.

This week we returned to PE by another 17 hour bus ride and are staying in our buddy Bright's hostel again. The weather has been phenomenal and we've been enjoying the coastal town. It's incredibly cheap -- food is cheap, taxis are cheap, so that's been a nice change from Joburg.

We hit the local casino, which was my first ever casino adventure. It was also incredibly cheap (roulette table minimum bets were like 60 cents, blackjack was like a dollar, beers were two dollars), so that was great. I didn't imagine that I was going to have such a good time, but it was actually really really fun. And for a couple of hours of entertainment, I think we were down a total of about $5 (hit a nice run on the blackjack tables). We got yelled at for taking pictures (oops? We didn't realize it was a real casino), but other than that, made it out unscathed.

We spent the next day walking around, admiring the beach. We ended up striking up conversation with a South African at a bar who was the driver for a bunch of UK sports reporters. He invited us along to hang out for the rest of the night, so we did, which was an absolute riot. Brian and I have a long running joke this trip of how exhausting it must be to talk with a British accent the entire time and I maybe shared that with the ol' blokes. I'm pretty sure they thought it was mostly funny and only a little insulting.

Yesterday we had tickets to the Brazil-Netherlands game that we tried in vain to sell (we weren't able to move our bus to get to Cape Town in time for the Argentina game today, but were hoping to make some money back to have to spend on semis tickets). Unfortunately, seeing two of the greatest soccer teams in the world wasn't that exciting for most residents of Port Elizabeth and we decided to go to the game ourselves instead of take the measly $10 we were offered for tickets ($200 a piece was face value -- some Mexican told us that if this game was played anywhere else in the world, even on the friendlies level, we'd be able to make $1000 a piece on those tickets. Not so in Africa...). It turned out to be a great decision because it was a really exciting game.

Last night we went to the Fan Fast to watch the Uruguay-Ghana game, Africa's last chance in this Cup. There were thousands of people there, all enthusiastically cheering for Ghana, so it was a pretty wild atmosphere. The game was absolutely INSANE -- if you didn't see it, you should probably catch the replay today. Where probably = definitely.

We're gonna head back to the Fan Fest this afternoon for the Argentina-Germany game (should be another good one), and then we get on the bus headed to Cape Town tonight, arriving tomorrow morning to savor a full day of celebrating American Independence. I'm just hoping we can find some firecrackers somewhere....

Back to Joburg

2010-06-29T06:25:00.001-07:00

Day 34-35, Monday and Tuesday, June 28-29, Joburg

We arrived back in Johannesburg Monday morning around 930 after another 17 hour ride. The movies were better this time (not saying a whole lot when you only have to improve upon "Madea Goes to Jail"), but dinner the night before, at Steers, what appears to be SA's favorite fast food restaurant, left something to be desired, so we were both starving. I can say with complete certainty that that meal was by far the most disgusting one we've had thus far. That restaurant, coupled with the incredible number of KFC's in this country, I'm pretty sure explains SA's struggle to rise to world dominance.

We got some lunch, watched the replays of the games From the night before that we'd missed by being on the bus (England-Germany and Argentina-Mexico). They do these great extended highlights of games on the main sports channel here where they show all the good scoring opportunities, defensive plays, and fouls, so you kinda feel like you watched the whole game in 20 minutes.

We weren't allowed to check into the hostel until 2, so we just kind of hung around playing pool and Foosball until the hour arrived.

We had tickets to the Chile-Brazil game, and it was a lot OD fun hearing the Chileans get ready by singing and dancing while grilling outside at the hostel. We're pros at the bus system to the stadium by now, so got down there really easily. We attempted to find our favorite little ladies who sell sausages outside Ellis Park (we'd had first and second dinner with them the last time we were at that stadium), but we got routed some strange way getting off the bus and had to settle for second-rate ones.

A combination of love of the underdog and a newfound hatred of Kaka and Luis FabiMano after the last game led us to cheer for Chile. We were in the vast, vast minority. The stadium was a sea of the green and gold of Brazil and they were loud. Some Guy above us was even playing an accordion. Mad props dude.

The Chileans played courageously for most of the first half an probably had some of the better scoring opportunities. Unfortunately the Brazilian offense was too much for them and once the first goal was scored, it was like the floodgates were opened. To their credit, the Brazilians didn't flop nearly as much as they did in the past, but I did decide that Kalke runs like a disabled ostrich. Watch him next game; you'll see what I mean. Also, for all the complaining we've done about the refs this tournament, we thought the ones at this game were exceptional, and probably deserve much of the credit for the Brazilians good behavior.

On the downside, I'm very much over the vuvuzelas. They're not only really annoying but you can literally feel your eardrum vibrating. It's not a pleasant experience.

Another unpleasant experience was trying to get back on a bus after the game. They've developed this insane system wherein the load one bus at a time. It's not the most efficient way to move 50,000 people out.

We relished the chance to do laundry Tuesday morning and then were stymied when we realized the drier was broken...after we'd washed our clothes. The lovely scent of mildew will thus be traveling with us back to PE, where we return to tonight. We have tickets to the Brazil-Netherlands game there on Friday, but might try to sell those, move up ourbus to Cape Town by a day, and try to get tickets to the Argentina quarterfinal. An ambitious plan, to be sure, but it just might work. Stay tuned.

Flashback - Day 18

2010-06-29T06:24:00.001-07:00

Day 18, June 12, Kampala

Brian felt much better the next day and I felt much worse, but we headed to morning Mass with the Brothers anyways (at the late late hour of 7am). I started to feel real not great at some point and went outside for some air, circa five minutes before Fr. Hayden called us forward for a blessing. And speeches. Unfortunately I missed Brian's, so I was just flying blind on what to say. It turned out okay though and we received a very nice blessing. After breakfast with the Brothers, we went back to Mama Flora's, made a hostel reservation for the night (we decided it would be in poor taste to party with my friend Stu till late at night then come back to the house).

I still felt fairly miserable the next day, so we didn't do a whole lot, but Hillary took us for a brief tour around the neighborhood and saw the cathedral and some nice views of the city.

Leaving Mama Flora's was pretty difficult for us and them...I really feel like we were kinda like family. Hillary looked like he was about to cry when he found out we were leaving - he'd heard my friend Stu wasn't getting back to KLA until that late night and so assumed we were staying another night. He insisted on coming in the taxi to the hostel with us, I think to postpone the inevitable. Which made it sadder.

The hostel we stayed at was nice and we watched the US-England game there. There were a bunch of Brits there too, so we talked a lot of smack and sang our national anthem really loudly. I must admit to be pretty happy with a tie and we headed out to meet Stu.

Partying with Stu, a good buddy of mine from college, is always an adventure, but especially so in this case. Stu had just gotten back from two months in Madagascar literally an hour before and we hadn't seen a white person or wealth of any kind in over a week. The two places we went out were really nice and filled with white people (to be fair, it was probably 50-50, but it felt like much more). We had a really great time and I forgot that I was sick, which was awesome.

Flashback to Days 16-17: Sick in the KLA

2010-06-29T00:41:00.001-07:00

Day 16 and 17, June 10-11th, Kampala

I guess it's my fault for saying neither of us had gotten sick yet, but we both woke up Thursday morning feeling not too awesome. We decided to try to tough it out and I felt a lot better after breakfast, but Brian both looked and felt like death so he headed back to Mama Flora's to rest for the day.

I spent the day at the Apostolate with decidedly fewer stories since I spent the whole morning washing clothes and sheets. Lots and lots of clothes. Everything is done by hand, so the clothes are rinsed, scrubbed, rinsed, and rinsed again before being wrung out and hung to dry. I somehow was doing two rinsing and the wringing steps, which was pretty exhausting. The other women working and the Brothers chatted away and joked around in Lugandan all morning, switching to English only when it became obvious they were talking about me (people were always amazed we knew what muzungu meant....which was weird to me since that's got to be the first word every white person learns). So it was a pretty isolating morning.

Around lunchtime I got tasked by the Brothers to help wash dishes, but the frail old women there decided I'd worked hard enough (they were in awe earlier that machines washed everything in America) and so refused to let me help. They were always convinced I was very tired, but I think they just weren't used to seeing someone as pale as me. So I just had to sit there and do nothing.

Frustrated by that, I eventually got up and started serving food, just to have something to do. Afterwards we were in the girls dorm and were playing Celine Dion on loop, which just seemed incredibly surreal. Both Fiona and Diana wanted to change their clothes, which I finally acquiesced to, since it's hard to reason with any child who persists in taking their clothes off, much less a mentally disabled one who doesn't speak your language. Fiona luckily picked a dress that tied in the back, so I felt pretty confident she wouldn't be able to take it off.

Diana was distracted by dancing around with me to Celine, which was great fun after the rather downer of a morning that I'd had. I looked up to see Rachel sitting cross-legged on one of the big beds just be-bopping along to the music, which was both adorable and uplifting to see since she'd been in one of her moods earlier. A few days before, I'd taught her "Pattycake" and maybe made up the words to the second verse ("roll 'em up roll 'em up" sounded good enough to me. Hey, sometimes you have to improvise). It's unclear whether the "r" sound of "roll" or the actual rolling motion was more exciting, but one of those two was incredibly entertaining to her. Like I said before, sometimes little kids are just too easy (I guess to make up for the times when they're near impossible?)

Fiona soon decided she wanted to change clothes again, which would have been annoying if it wasn't so funny. I saw her in vain trying to take her dress off (that tricky tie in the back foiled her - aha!). When she tried to get me to take it off, I attempted to convey as nicely as possible that she'd already changed her clothes this afternoon and we couldn't do it again. She got a little angry with me and started waving her new proposed outfit around which I then realized....was the exact. same. dress. There were a good amount of clothes that were duplicates...either because 20 of the same T-shirts came as a donation, or, as in this case, the seamstress used the same fabric to make the exact same dress 5-10 times. It was simultaneously frustrating and so hilarious to be asked to change into the exact same dress. It felt mean to laugh at her, but it was really hard not to. I kept refusing to change her, but about 15 minutes later she managed to get dress number one off and I decided at that point it was worth it to let her have her way and put on dress number two. When we tried that, however, I realized that dress number two was slightly smaller and was not going to get on her body given the contorted state of her arms and their limited range of motion (that and they've taught these kids to put on shirts head first and then to pull their arms through. This seems idiotic to me because it a) stretches the clothes and b) makes dressing kids with upper body issues of any kind, which a lot of the girls have, unnecessarily more difficult than it need be). So now I had a completely naked child with two dresses in hand - one of which she didn't want to wear and one of which didn't fit. Through distraction techniques and some masterful sleight of hand, I managed to fool her into putting dress number one back on. The advantage of taking care of kids is that you're smarter than them. Usually.

I danced with Rachel, which was awesome (especially since we'd moved on to a new CD). I'd pulled out my camera since it was the last day (rafting the Nile the next) and Rachel and Semaya found looking at pictures of themselves endlessly entertaining. I had to cut our photo shoot short however since I was taking the van back with the morning shift of Brothers to insure that Brian was still alive.

I found him alive but still struggling....later that evening a cousin who was a doctor came over to make sure he was okay. He got clearance to go rafting the next day and we both hoped we were well enough to be up for it.

We weren't. We made a valiant attempt to get up but Brian was still feeling not awesome and I was feeling worse, so we decided to just hang out on Friday. Since we were supposed to be on the Nile, no one was expecting us anywhere, so we had no obligations other than mentally preparing for the first game of the World Cup that night. We gathered enough courage to walk down to the Internet cafe and when we came back Br. Prem, the head brother at the Apostolate, had arrived with snacks and energy drinks for Brian. He also told us the Brothers were going to be allowed to watch at least the first World Cup match, so we were pleased on their behalf.

We got to watch the first game, South Africa - Mexico, with Hillary in the comfort of Mama Flora's home. Watching Tshabalala score the first goal of the Cup for the hosts the first time the tournament was held on African soil was pretty exciting. I don't think either of us made it through the second game, hoping some rest would cure our ills.

Flashback to Day 15: Busega

2010-06-29T00:39:00.001-07:00

Day 15, Wednesday June 9th, KLA

After the morning routine (which I was almost getting used to), we headed out with Br. Larry to the construction site. It took us about an hour to get there with all the picking up and dropping off of workers and materials we did. We ended up in very isolated areas of Kampala and got more than our fair share of "muzungu!" cries. Little kids in Kampala must very rarely see white people because given any child under age 12, there was about a 95% chance he/she would cry out muzungu! and wave. Looking back, we realized the only other white people we saw that entire week were the three Germans working with the Brothers for the year, so I guess it was pretty understandable....? Muzungu isn't considered a derogatory term at all, but it was really weird to have it constantly yelled at you. Seriously, 95% of kids. At least.

We arrived at Busega and got the full tour from Dominic, one of the aforementioned Germans. A carpenter by profession, it was very interesting to hear him talk about the construction project and the differences between here and Germany.

In comparison to the Good Shepherd Home, Busega is HUGE. The dorms and grounds are much bigger and there is a chapel and dining room....neither of which are present in the old home. The quality of materials are also much nicer and more modern, which gives the place a much newer, cleaner feel.

Listening to Dominic talk about construction was an exercise in frustration. He said there was no blueprint when They began, or since, just a picture of what the finished product looks like
There are no building codes or governmental oversight of any kind in Uganda, so you can basically build whatever you want however you want. Apparently there was quite the argument between the Germans and Africans about whether a load-bearing pole was really necessary. Luckily the Germans and modern engineering eventually won out, but not before accusations of racism and elitism were thrown out. General frustration about how inexact their standards were abounded, and I started to worry this wad going to be an entirely negative tour.

Then, however, he began to explain how much he respected the Brothers because they viewed the construction project itself, and not just the product, as a mission within itself. Unlike other building projects in Uganda, the Brothers were equal opportunity - you needn't be the same religion or tribe as the construction manager to get a job. Workers also got paid regularly and fairly and received lunch, tea, and clean water every day, both of which were very unusual.

We were briefly introduced to a worker from a tribe (can't remember the name off the top of my head - a disadvantage to telling these stories via flashback) who believed that God granted them guardianship of all the cows in the world. As such, it was their divine mission to reclaim every last cow. In the world.

We spent the day hacking at the floor - When pouring the plaster walls, A LOT of plaster got all over the concrete floor....and needed to be chipped off. For hours and hours. It was good back-breaking work, which is always good for the soul, but got kind of monotonous and boring. It was loud and dusty, so conversation and breathing were kind of out of the question as well. It was nice to be able to contribute to the building project so specifically though.

We returned back to Mama Flora's to find Sophie gone. Never really figured out the story but apparently her grandmother came an took her under protest...and Sophie was sad not to be able to bid us farewell. We decided a day with neither Sophie nor Rachel was a very sad day indeed.

Flashback to Day 14: "I only got peed on a little bit"

2010-06-29T00:37:00.001-07:00

Day 14, June 8th, Kampala

Tuesday after the daily morning ritual of Mass, meditation, breakfast, and prayers, we continued our work at the Apostolate. I employed the foolproof strategy of entertainment via catch with Rachel and Semaya, who were the most cognitively intact of the girls. It's hard to say how much so because they didn't really speak English (but did understand it?) and neither could walk on her own. They did have quite the friendship though, talked amongst themselves (and with the Brothers), and knew each others names and could recognize care takers. They were also prone to incredible mood swings and Semaya would refuse to get dressed and Rachel would refuse to do her exercises. Tuesday morning, as I dressed Rachel, she became extremely picky and refused my first three shirt selections (at the home, there's just a cabinet of clothes that all the girls get dressed from; they don't have their own clothes). Getting a little frustrated, I finally found the best shirt in the cabinet, a smart little black number with buttons and a collar. Her face lit right up and she hurried to put it on, intuiting that I should probably button faster. I told her she looked greeeeat, and she did, and she just beamed even more.

Despite their moments, however, I was impressed at how resilient and tolerant the two were in a place where the schizophrenic could scream for hours on end and other fellow residents regularly sat dumbfounded in pools of their own urine (Rachel and Semaya were the two capable of informing you of their need to use the bathroom).

While helping one of the workers strap a resident named Sharon in to her standing aid, I met a young resident named Vincent. Apparently Vincent loves going to the classroom used for songs and lessons in the afternoon and asks incessantly from the moment he wakes up if he can go there. While not a walker, he could be found at any given moment scooting away backwards on his butt off the porch and towards the classroom. Persistent efforts to go retrieve him and bring him back to the exercise area did not deter him. I liked his immediately. When the standing aid he was using later became painful and he started to cry, a game of catch easily distracted him. (I guess by necessity crying was largely ignored at the center - there were often children crying, for no discernable reason - but it broke my heart damn near every time.) Like Rachel, Vincent has some condition in which excess fluid collects in his head. Rachel had a operation in which a tube directs the fluid to her stomach (and also has some horrific scars covering her shoulder and upper arm...unclear if the two were related). Vincent hadn't had such an operation, and for all I know, might have an entirely unique condition, so while Rachel's head was many 50-70% bigger than "normal," Vincent's had to be at least twice its natural size. I almost worried he would topple over if he got thrown a little off balance, but he didn't seem to have any problems, so I cautiously tried to quit worrying.

By this time, Brian had become BFF's with Waswa, a little boy who was one of the few (and only one that I knew off) "day campers." His family dropped him off every morning and picked him up every afternoon. They played some catch and generally became bros.....especially when around lunchtime Waswa urinated all over Brian's leg, prompting him to remark that at least he "only got peed on a little bit" and that he and Waswa were about as close as two people could get. I myself was getting better at bathroom management and could clean and change a child (and the floor) at a level at least approaching proficient. There were still, by necessity, several moments of standing foot deep in urine, but at least I now knew what to do about it.

After another insane lunch with the schoolchildren (there really has to be a better way to orchestrate that), I took Rachel for a walk across the porch, which she abruptly decided she wanted to stop about halfway back. Since moving her elicited cries like I was poking her with hot coals, I left her where she sat and took Semaya for a walk with her walker. When we got to about where Rachel was, Semaya refused to go on any longer either. After a few minutes of cajoling, one of the Brothers came by and said "she will not go without her friend." So we made the last 15 yards or so by me walking Rachel about five feet, sitting her down, going back to Semaya and escorting her with her walker until we were even with Rachel, then picking Rachel up and repeating. It was a little frustrating, but mostly just adorable.

That night at Mama Flora's, Brian made some inroads with Augustine. Up until this point, the child would scream in terror whenever he saw one of us, let alone if we tried to touch or hold him. At first it was kind of comical, but it quickly became just plain depressing and we resolved to win him over. Brian was having the most initial success, so I let him work his charmer magic while I entertained Sophie by switching shoes with her. Little kids are just too easy sometimes. Before I knew it, I looked up to see Augustine sitting sitting in Brian's lap - success!

Our evenings at Mama Flora's were wonderfully relaxing - I think I could get used to the slow pace of Uganda. We had tea around 6 or so, chatted with Mama Flora about the day (she was forever terribly worried about anything there was to worry about - she experienced near physical anxiety if I so much as briefly stumbled during the morning walk in the dark), and hung out with any of the number if her children who might be around (still unclear who actually lives there...). We would sometimes watch the very popular soap that came on every night - it appeared to be Filipino in origin, dubbed into English, and then voiced over by one man who both translated into Lugandan and apparently offered commentary. Unclear if the whole show itself or everyone's intense interest in it (male, female, young, old....everyone) was more comical. Sophie had a specific spot on the rug she would situate herself and watch us talk, or have tea, or watch the soap. We decided it was a close competition between Sophie and Rachel for cutest kid in the entire world.

We were lucky enough that Robinha, one of the house girls, offered to do our laundry the next day, so we were able to give her our completely gross clothes.

The next day, we were planning to go to Busega, the site of the new Children's Home that is currently under construction, so we were excited about that.

Flashback to the KLA

2010-06-29T00:35:00.001-07:00

Day 11 and 13, June 5 and 7, Uganda. From Sharon (being in PE stricken down by sickness while Brian goes to our game :( has given me some time to offer a flashback)

After our long and arduous bus trip, we arrived in Kampala where our dear host Mama Flora picked us up from the bus station and took us to the monastery to meet the Brothers. We had breakfast with Mama Flora and Br. Alfred, then went to Mama Flora's house to rest up from our journey. Mama Flora, as she is known to about everyone in Kampala, or so it seemed, raised eight children and a stepson, the youngest of whom is now 20 years old and at university. She also takes in just about anyone off the street who needs a place to stay, including many Sudanese refugees who fled to Kampala when the violence in Southern Sudan was at its height, asking for nothing in return. For a while after we arrived, it was pretty unclear who exactly lived in the simple ranch house - there were always a few of her "real" children around, plus two girls (both around 18) who kept the house and looked after the young children. The children while we were there consisted of Augustine, an 18 month old belly of a child whose mother was one of the residents at the brothers' home (I.e. was mentally or physically disabled and unable to care for him), and Sophie, the most adorable 3 year old you've ever seen, and whose story was never quite clear to me. The house had a simple family room (with a TV we would later watch the first games of the WC on) and dining table, a small kitchen, three bedrooms, and a single bathroom with a toilet, a faucet that hung from the wall that served as the shower, and no light. Cold showers in the dark at 515am became the new standard. On the plus side, after showering, you had to use those squeegy brooms like they have at swimming pools to push all the water from all over the room into the drain in the corner, which is every bit as exciting as it looked when you were five and jealously watched the lifeguards do so (or possibly that was just me? Regardless, the third world is so much more fun when you take joy in the little things).

After a rest, we hung out with Flora's fourth biological child, Paul (what a great name), who works for MTN, one of the major cell phone companies in Africa. It is one of the biggest sponsors of the World Cup and probably the biggest carrier in Uganda, by a long shot. He seemed a little embarrassed by his job, he "just" works for costumer service, but seemed relieved when we assured him that many recent US university grads get similar jobs in their 20's. Also luckily for him, he was hanging out with the two of us, who are huge nerds and genuinely interested in the comparative economics of cell phone service marketing. (A significant difference in Africa, is that everyone pays as you go....and that it's still cheaper than in the US.) We then went over to the monastery to meet our soon-to-be godchildren, and have evening prayer and dinner with the brothers. For you Catholics out there, they do the Liturgy of the Hours at 6am, noon, and 5pm every day (in addition to daily Mass at 620am). It was a really nice thing, especially as we started working at the Apostlate and you really needed some spiritual guidance. Plus the sound of 80 African men singing is a really soothing sound. I'm fairly certain that's the sound most effective for running off the devil, should you ever find yourself in such a situation.

Before dinner, we got a tour of the grounds from Br. Dominic, one of the Professed Brothers, which means he wears the blue sash with his habit and has finished his formal formation, a process that normally takes 5-6 years. Young men start as "junior aspirants," working on the missions, attending classes, and living the monastic life (apparently monks are not just cloistered orders, there are some, like the Missionaries of the Poor, who are "active" monks and have missions in the community). After 9 months, the aspirants have a three week "home stay," during which time they return to their families and await a letter from MOP that indicates whether or not they have been chosen to continue in formation. At that time, they decide for themselves whether or not they wish to return to Kampala (they are under no obligation to do so, and any Brother, at any point, can walk away from the order). Later in the week, Br. Alfred explained to us a little bit more what they were looking for in brothers and while strict and absolute in some ways (they don't take people who want to be priests, even though some brothers are eventually ordained, and they don't take those who want to continue advanced studies, for example), it makes complete sense when you understand that the mission is wholely and wholly dedication to the poor....and how taxing a calling that is. Once the aspirants return, they continue as before but now as "senior aspirants," who wear the habit, but with a tan sash to indicate their continuing formal formation. Each of these classes lives in large dorm bays with bunk beds housing 20-40 brothers per room. After some amount of time (1-2 years? I couldn't quite nail down the timeline), the brothers move to the Novitiate, a segregated living area next to the monastery with their own chapel, dining room, and living spaces. There they spend the final and most intense two years of their formal formation. We saw all these areas, as well as the animals kept - cows pigs, pigeons, chickens, monkeys. There were only two monkeys; a third had to be put down after it ferociously attempted to bite off a finger.

Dinner with the brothers was delicious (credit the Carribebean roots of the order for the plethora of spices used) and we got to hang out with From. Hayden, an absolutely delightful enthusiastic Trini of a man. We heard about his recent trip to Jamaica where many leaders of the Order met with a representative from the Vatican to explain their work in an attempt to get a relationship directly with the Vatican (the word is escaping me right now). The order currently must work through each local diocese, so this development would make them much like Opus Dei, but considerably less creepy. He also brought news of how impressed the Vatican was with the simple lifestyle of the Brothers - even Fr. Hayden (and, in fact, the head of the entire order, who lives in Janaica) lives in the dorm style rooms with no privacy and they travel in the beds of trucks that have been outfitted with benches.

You've already heard of our baptismal adventures from Sunday, so I'll skip straight to Monday, our first at the Apostolate. After Mass, meditation, breakfast, travel to the home, and morning prayers, it was probably 830 by the time we started "work," even though we'd been up since a little after 5. Since Brian had worked with the brothers on Jamaica before, he had a better idea of what was to come, but I really had no idea. What I did know was that MOP basically took in anyone that had been abandoned by their families and society. In the poor societies of the third world, this translates to the elderly, the orphaned, and the mentally and physically disabled of all ages. We were assigned to work with the girls and Brian pulled me aside before going in to let me know that there was no shame in stepping outside for a few minutes if it got overwhelming; he mentioned he'd do so a few times in Jamaica. I was thankful for the counsel, but egotistical as I am, doubted I would need it - I worked with amputees, I wanted to be a doctor, and I rode the Georgia Ave bus for goodness sake - as far as blood, bodily disfunction, dismemberment, and crazy people go, I figured there were few things I hadn't seen. Plus, I'm now a soldier in the greatest Army in the world. In the words of our dear friend Josh, I'll take a break when I'm done.

The reality was that I was a bit underprepared. This wasn't my initial reaction, but apparently a volunteer from Iran who stayed with Mama Flora and worked there for three months later confessed that on her first day she thought she had entered Hell. That wasn't my initial thought (although it might have occurred to me later), but if some good Christian volunteer reacted that way, you can maybe begin to imagine what it might have been like. The dorm was dark and crowded - the place was filled with bunk beds not more than about 18 inches apart. Those were mostly empty, as the able children had already left for school. On two large mattresses were our charges for the day - about 20-30 girls, ranging in age from infancy to about 12 or 13, but none looking older than about 8. They were extremely thin for the most part, many legs outrageously so, to the point where you wondered how such legs supported them. The answer was by and large that they did not - few of the girls were capable of walking under their own power, because of mental or physical impairments...or both. Only two were capable of telling you they had to go to the bathroom and then, as I found out the hard way later in the week, not in English. The rest of them simply urinated or defecated right where they were, which contributed a strong urine smell to the area (don't worry, you get used to that) and also resulted in a prodigious number of clothes being used every day (I would find out exactly how much a prodigious quantity was when I wad assigned to a morning of hand washing clothes later in the week). When we arrived in the dorm, the girls were a huddled naked mass of bodies on the two beds, as they'd just been "showered" ("rinsed" is probably a more appropriate word). After dressing, which consists of putting whatever combination of shirt/dress and shorts will fit on the girl and be pleasing to her sense of aesthetics (some were hilariously picky), you picked her up and moved her outside to the porch for play/physical therapy.

My first task of the day - take Charity for a walk with the walker around the porch - ended in collassal failure. Let it be known that Charity is NOT capable of informing you of her need to urinate and we both ended up standing dumbfounded in a puddle of her urine as I wondered why no one had instructed me what to do in this situation. A brother soon came to my rescue and whisked poor Charity off. I returned to the group on the porch feeling pretty useless and still uninformed as to proper a-resident-just-peed-all-over-herself-and-everything-else standard operating procedure.

By this time, Brian was deftly walking Rachel, the most adorable child in the entire world, and soon to be our favorite, across the porch (sans walker!), and I resolved to stop feeling sorry for myself and my ineptitude as a volunteer (I perhaps have a bit of a competitive streak); I decided to stop sucking and start being awesome instead. My next task was simply to "spot" Rita as she strengthened her legs by standing while holding on to the side of the porch. Perhaps this was more fitted to my (in)abilities because I was much more successful at making sure a stationery child did not suddenly topple over than I was at walking one. I also graduated to Honors Spotting, which consisted of correcting her foot position and posture when she started slouching. My most advanced maneuver (AP Spotting?) was deploying the Weeks family patented "bird call" sound and hand motion when she started crying. Luckily my family is really funny (or perhaps just funny looking) because Rita found that move HILARIOUS and instantly cheered up and started laughing every time.

Monday was also our first introduction to snack time and lunch for the girls. They are each given a slice of bread around 930 or so and a bowl of whatever is for lunch around 11. While mostly a straightforward venture, some of the girls don't have enough motor skills to feed themselves and so have to be fed (those volunteers doing the feeding get to use a spoon....everyone else uses their hands. It's unclear to me how i would've eaten this meal with my hands, so i was pretty impressed). Additionally, there are a few out of control (or just really really hungry? Or both?) girls who would go around and steal food from the others. Two particularly bad offenders had to be tied by the ankle to a post on the porch with a t-shirt so that they didn't wreck complete havoc. And they still managed to wreck some. I was feeding one of the more difficult girls and had to take to tilting her head back so that she was forced to open her mouth. As long as it took to finish that meal and as frustrating as it was, it's an incredible special and satisfying feeling to be such a fundamental part of someone's nourishment. A bit difficult to really describe fully.

After lunch, the girls go to bed for a nap and five thousand schoolchildren invade the home for lunch. Probably only like 100-150 kids, but it feels like much much more. They DEVOUR the food and also can be guilty of stealing from one another. Some of these kids live at the Apostolate and some don't...I guess just would not be getting a meal otherwise. I helped put out food for them and Brian was in a special area for what looked like the youngest children. When I ventured over there, I saw a boy, about 5 or 6, with arms that were cut off above his elbow, happily and amazingly eating his lunch with a long spoon (again, everyone else ate with their hands). I watched in amazement for a while and then Brian told me that apparently the boy cries if you offer/try to feed him, because he's so intent on doing it himself.

Sometime after lunch, around 2 or 230, the morning shift of Brothers returns to the monastery and the evening shift comes. We decided to leave then too, since we needed to buy our return bus tickets to Nairobi for the following week. We headed downtown on a bouda bouda, one of the most common forms of transport in Uganda, which is a motorcycle taxi. You hail a strange man in the streets on a motorcycle, haggle a price for your destintion, and then hop on behind him. Don't worry, they have extended back seats so can take two at a time. Crammed in between a Ugandan stranger in front and Brian behind, I wondered what the protocol for who or what to hold to was.....

After running a few errands downtown (including booking a whitewater rafting trip down the Nile for Friday - HOORAY!), we took a bouda bouda back to the monastery. At times it was exhilarating and exciting like a roller coaster, as we weaved in and out of traffic and around potholes, and spent about 50% of the time racing down the street on the WRONG side of the median, only correcting ourselves when on-coming traffic looked particularly menacing. Then, after a few seconds of europhia, I would remember that I was on a motorcycle of a stranger in Kampala and should probably be paying better attention to the scenes from my life flashing before my eyes. When we got fairly close to the monastery, there was absolute and total gridlock as a truck blasting music from its truck bed and selling CD's literally parked intself in the middle of a significant intersection, completely stopping traffic in four directions. Cars were so piled up on top of each other (figuratively, of course) that there wasn't even 18 inches for our motorcycle to squeeze by anyone. It was sheer madness (a phrase I've come to use often in Africa is "the height of insanity") and took some time, yelling, and cajoling to figure out.

That evening we went to prayers with the Brothers, then tea and dinner at Mama Flora's. After dinner, we hung out with Mama's third child, Hillary, who had just finished law school. Hillary is a male name in East Africa, which explains the confusion we witnessed in Jikaze over what former President Clinton's first name was (some kids kept telling Brian they loved Hillary Clinton. We were impressed they knew who the Secretary of State was, and then realized they meant Bill when they said something about him being the former President). Hillary was a really friendly outgoing guy and was very interested in the economic crisis in the US, healthcare reform (everyone in Africa has heard of it, but no one understands it, much like the vast majority of Americans. Including us.), and differences between the US and Uganda/Kenya. At first we couldn't come up with any that had really surprised us, but then we thought of a list - no need for prescriptions, police don't have guns or cars, there's regular electricity rationing that is unannounced, matatus, bouda boudas, the condition of the roads (horrible, by the way, potholes an entire lane of traffic wide even in Kampala, the nation's capital), how cheap fruit is (East Africans are comically amazed at how expensive fruit is in the US), the Ugandan president who has been in power for almost 25 years and just ignores the results of elections which vote him out, and on and on. It was a really interesting conversation and the beginning of our great friendship with Hillary.

We went to bed exhausted, but excited to work a full day at the Apostolate on Tuesday.

Days 30-33, Port Elizabeth

2010-06-29T00:31:00.001-07:00

Day 30-33, Thurs-Sunday, June 24-27th, Port Elizabeth

On Thursday we watched some highlights and games during the day before taking off to go catch our bus to Port Elizabeth in the afternoon. People at the hostel keep telling us distances are un-walkable, like the trip from hostel to bus station, but we've basically decided they're in cahots with the cab companies, so we ignored their advice, loaded up our stuff, and hoofed it down to the station. The station was nice and we'd grabbed an early dinner (from the stands by the local bus station who hawk to spectators headed to the games in Soccer City or Ellis Park), so we ate that as discretely as possible while enjoying the afternoon games in one of the bars at the station.

The bus was fairly comfortable, much more so than those we took in East Africa, and was a double-decker Greyhound, which I'd never ridden before and was pretty excited for. What I wasn't excited for was the 15 hour bus ride ahead. The ride ended up taking 17.5 hours which was....not that awesome. We DID see a couple of ostriches coming in to PE though, so that was cool.

We found our hostel, run by a loveable Ghanaian named Bright (seriously, that's his name) and watched the uneventful Portugal-Brazil game with some Argentines at the hostel. Who loved that Brian spoken Argentinian Spanish. We decided to venture out to the official FIFA Fan Fest (we hadn't been to one in Joburg), which was held inside a gargantuan cricket stadium. This thing was huuuuge. We loaded up on the local eats, enjoyed free live entertainment from one of South Africa's biggest rock bands (who have toured with U2 and the Counting Crows, but weren't actually much to write home about), and then watched the Spain-Chile game on the big screen. It was a fun game to watch and the atmosphere was pretty cool.

Saturday we woke up with plans to go to the beach (Port Elizabeth is right on the water - beautiful - and the weather has been gorgeous), but apparently the local eats didn't agree with me, so that plan got nixed. I was basically a worthless excuse for a traveler all day and didn't do much of anything. Brian went to the game we had tickets to by himself (first knockout stage game of the tourney - Uruguay v. South Korea), so hopefully he'll tell you about that sometime. He was able to sell my ticket for about a third of its face value and was lucky to get that much; not quite the same ticket market we'd seen in Joburg where everything was going for at least face value. It sounds like he successfully made some friends in my absence and the game was pretty good, so all was not lost on that front.

I choked down enough South African powerade (Enermaxx) to rally enough energy to go to the hostel's TV (in another building, we're in "alternative housing," which sounds like we're recovering from an addiction of some sort) to watch the US-Ghana game. We brought our flag and loudly sang the US national anthem at the beginning of the match, much to the delight of our fellow hostel-goers, who took pictures for their scrapbooks. We also endured some good-natured ribbing from Bright, who is a Ghana native, and everyone else at the hostel, since every last one of them was cheering for Ghana. Jerks. Unfortunately for us, the US didn't have the strongest showing and Bocanegra again proved he's the worst player on the team. We were pretty disappointed with the result, since we'd thought advancing to the semis was a real possibility this year. We bitterly walked home to the sound of vuvuzelas and car horns celebrating an African victory and perhaps said some unkind things about South Africans' quick defection to another team from 3000 miles away.

Sunday I was still struggling from not having eaten and we didn't manage much besides getting lunch and waiting for our bus back to Joburg. Luckily we'll be back in PE on Wednesday for a few days, so we'll have another chance then to enjoy the boardwalk, beach, and what we assume counts as the Indian Ocean.

Double-header and FREEDOM

2010-06-28T09:07:00.001-07:00

Wednesday June 23rd, Johannesburg/Pretoria. From Sharon:

Today was absolutely INSANE. We had tickets to both the US-Algeria game and the Ghana-Germany game, the first of which was in Pretoria (about 45 minutes away by car) and the second was at the Soccer City stadium in Joburg. We thought we'd have to sell our tickets to the second game in order to make the US one, but another guest at the hostel convinced them to run a van to Pretoria and back, meaning if traffic wasn't too bad, we'd probably make it to Ghana-Germany by game time. So that was the plan.

After lunch, we met our crew of intrepid Americans and painted our faces like the true patriots we are. Brian's star-drawing abilities are vastly improving, I'm happy to report. The ride out felt pretty quick and as we approached Pretoria, we passed a car of Algerians also on their way to the game. They were waving two full sized flags out of the windows (an impressive feat of upper body stamina) and honking their horn all the way down the highway. Nonstop. We stayed with them all the way in to town and they never stopped honking or flag waving. In fact, they escalated to climbing outside the windows and flag waving, causing quite the ruckus on the streets of Pretoria. Not to be outdone, and not to lose the local fan support by a lukewarm pre-game performance, I dutifully handed over our US flag to one of the Americans willing to hang out the van window. Brian shed his jersey so that I could wave it at passerbys and the police, all of whom gave me a thumbs up. US 1, Algeria 0. We arrived close to the stadium and took a picture with our flaf waving adversaries. Other than being an hysterical photo, I thought our cross-cultural understanding was good karma.

We made our way to the stadium and once again planted ourselves on the first row, right by the tunnel so we could see thee players run out and warm up. They ended up running drills directly by the side we were closest to, so I'm pretty sure I made eye contact with Clint and Landon. Impressively, no one ever asked for our tickets or told us to move along.

A little before gametime, we headed back up to our seats and I convinced more policemen to cheer on the US. Patriotic duty performed.

The game was incredible. By which I mean it was agonizing for 90 minutes and then incredible. The europhia in the stadium was palpable after we scored - there were TONS of Americans in attendance and we went NUTS. The players even came over to each side of the field to thank the fans. (By this point, we were in our seats about 10 rows from th very top, so no more eye contact. But I'm pretty sure Landon expressed his disappointment at missing me in the post-game press conference.) We high-tailed it back to the van (there was actual running involved) and hurried back to Joburg.

We hustled to the bus once we were back at the hostel, downed some roti rolls and samosas, and headed off to the game. We got there with about 15 minutes to spare....so....SUCCESS…Brian slipped on his Bayern-Munich jersey, as he promised Mark he would, and it was game time. I was pulling for Ghana, because you gotta go African in this Cup, but Brian was thinking more strategtically and pulling for Germany so we wouldn't have to face them in the round of 16. C'mon now, pragmatism is overrated.

Germany pulled it out in a pretty underwhelming game, but Australia's simultaneous win over Serbia meant that Ghana also advances to the round of 16, the only African team to do so. I didn't realize there were so many Ghanaians at the game, but we quickly found ALL of them aswe tried to exit the stadium and were swept into the musical/dancing/yelling/cheering parade of Ghana fans out of the stadium. I'm pretty sure it was the best celebration yet - drums, whistles, songs, people who could dance really really well, a sign that said "God is a Ghanaian," and incredible energy. It took us about an hour after the game to get on a bus, but I think it was worth it.

We tried to figure out if we could get tickets to the US round of 16 game, but the combination of our upcoming PE-Joburg back-and-forths and the schedule games we already have tickets to, coupled with the fact the game is about 2 hours away from Joburg, kinda squashed those dreams. But still a good day for America and freedom.

Off to PE tomorrow for the first of our knock-out round games - Uruguay v. South Korea on Saturday.

Professionals

2010-06-23T03:02:00.001-07:00

Day 27-28, Monday and Tuesday, June 21-22. From Sharon:

Monday and Tuesday we did a lot of professional sports watching. With three games on Monday and four on Tuesday, it really took our full attention. Today especially, there were two games being shown at a time in two time spots. Let me assure you, the talent needed to divide your attention between two soccer games simultaneously is not one to be laughed at. It is, indeed, a special skill. Most exciting was the first set of games today - South Africa needed to win and gain a total of five goals in goal differential between whoever lost the other game (Uruguay-Mexico) in order to avoid being the first host in World Cup history to fail to advance past the group stages. Unfortunately for SA, they haven't won a game yet and were playing France. While France has suffered an incredible public implosion over the last few days (some choice words about the coach's mother were yelled during halftime of the last game, that player was subsequently sent home, the rest of the team subsequently boycotted practice, the coach subsequently called all his players "stupid" at a press conference...really if you haven't been keeping up with all the drama, you're missing out on something fierce. Fiercely unbelieveable), they're still a top 15 team in the world (for perspective, SA is ranked like 80th...?). So chances were looking slim. Also, SA's star goalkeeper got a red card in the last match and so can't play. In short, it was not looking good for our heroes.

The match was an exciting one as SA scored two awesome goals in the first half (and had many more chances) and Uruguay went up 1-0. At each goal, the hostel went nuts, the best part being the little SA women who work in the kitchen who would scream and dance around after every goal. With a three goal difference already built up after only one half, it looked like the miracle that SA needed to advance (five goals) would actually come true. Sadly it did not, as no more goals were scored by SA or Uruguay and France got one back. Despite that disappointment, it was nice to see the hosts get a well-deserved win and end the tournament on a high note with a game they could really be proud of.

Last night, we ventured out into the city with two Americans we met at the hostel for our first night on the town (other than game nights). We saw the late game over dinner, had some delicious pizza and local brews for bargain prices (between us I think we had a pizza and seven drinks for $25), and finished the night playing pool with some 19 year old South Africans (the drinking age is 18 in SA and I felt really really old. 18 is yoooooung. They barely look old enough to feed themselves, nevermind imbibe an adult beverage or three. Surely I did not look that young at 18). Brian had a strong showing on the pool table and was unbeaten in a few games with the local star, so count another one for America. The guys we'd found from the hostel were absolutely hysterical and the three of us in the back of the cab were in stitches over the one's 20 minute conversation with the cab driver over whether or not you can turn left on red in South African (the long awaited answer? Sometimes).

We go to Pretoria (about an hour away) tomorrow to see the US-Algeria game, then rush back to Joburg to make the Germany-Ghana game. After the incredible experience that was seeing the last US game live, we're pretty excited to cheer them on to the second round. Just need to go find that face paint....

Brazil v. Cote d'Ivoire game

2010-06-21T02:39:00.001-07:00

Day 26, Sunday June 20th, Johannesburg. From Sharon:

We arrived in Johannesburg last Wednesday, after our initial flight was cancelled and we had to spend the night in Addis Ababa. That entire experience, as well as our time in Uganda (which was amazing), and our first few days in Joburg will hopefully be covered at some later date. Or perhaps you'll just have to wait for the live retelling when we return. Hard to say.

Anyways, today we had a bunch of free time since our game wasn't until 830pm and we weren't terribly interested in the two earlier games. We tried to sleep in, since we've become the old people of the hostel, struggling to make it to the end of the late game every night. Since we were seeing the game in person today, we thought it might be best to still be awake by the end of it.

In the early afternoon, we made our way out to Campus Square, with the goal of buying me some more warm clothes since 1) it's freezing (apparently it's the coldest South African winter in 20 years) and 2) the hostel isn't really heated per se. The hostel folks suggested taking a cab, but we're both cheap and had time to burn, so we walked the probably 2.5 miles there and back. Down a highway. I promise it wasn't as dumb as that sounds. Some nice young guy also directed us in how to walk around the construction, ending our interaction with "no problem my bru," which is, we've learned, the SA equivalent of "bro."

The "mall" was nice, but we did come face to face with the fact that SA business hours are ridiculous. Most stores were closed by 2pm when we rolled in and some had been closed since 1. The ones that were open were closing at 3. Unclear to me how people live like this.

We got back, watched the Italy-New Zealand game at the hostel (tie?? No one saw that coming) and headed out to the game. Since we were leaving only two hours before game time (instead of our regular four), the bus and entrance gates getting down there were more crowded but still not that bad. The stadium was FULL of Brazilians. I've never seen so much yellow. The announced attrndance was over 84,000 people and you could definitely hear it - them Brazilians is LOUD. It was a pretty cool atmosphere and, like all the other games we've been to, we were able to go down close to the pitch and see the players run out for warm-up. (You would never be allowed in the good seats section in America that close to game time, which is a cultural/event difference that we've taken full advantage of at all our games)

Brian, for some reason known only to him and God, decided to wear his Argentina jersey to the match. I'm surprised we made it out alive. Besides being top South American rivals, Brazil and Argentina are also the top two teams performance-wise in the tournament thus far (and on the world stage in general), so there's not a lot of love lost between the two. And Brazilian fans were quite upset at Brian's blatant afront to their game. So we heard it quite a bit from them. An entire group of 10 young men spent about 10 minutes yelling and blowing their vuvuzelas at us. While we might have suffered permanent hearing damage as a result, at least we didn't get shivved, which I had thought could be a real possibility.

The game ended up 3-1, but I thought was played much closer than that sounds. At least until the last 20 minutes or so, Cote d'Ivoire had at least as many scoring opportunities as Brazil. And Brazil certainly wasn't dominating possession as I'm sure many thought they would. What they were doing is a lot of flopping and complaining about calls. I've always faulted the Brazilians for being foul drama queens, staying on the ground way too long after a foul or non-foul, and generally talking a little too much. I went into the game with an open mind, but they quickly proved to have not changed. Watching the re-play of the Kaka foul at the end looks like the ref overreacted to that particular incident, but they, and he in particular, were being so annoying and dive-y all game that I kinda believe that's soccer karma coming back to get you. Probably a unique opinion to be sure, but I stand by it (with apologies to my favorite Brazilians back home in Chapel Hill).

I think the Brazilians get the prize for being the loudest and most ferverent fans, so it was fun and exciting to be at the game. I'm glad Cote d'Ivoire got one back at the end, because they played a far better match than a lot of teams who have escaped in group play with a draw or even a win to show for their efforts. Unfortunately for them, they're in the group of death, so two really well-played games gets them only one point (a draw and a win).

We'vee got no games for the nex two days, so I'm not sure what we'll be up to. Possibly just mentally preparing for our two game day on Wednesday - we've got both US-Algeria and Germany-Ghana tickets, with plans to go to both. Should be an interesting day.

Brian at the Brazil v. Cote d'Ivoire game!

2010-06-20T14:09:00.001-07:00

Sent from the Droid.

World Cup!

2010-06-19T04:58:00.001-07:00

We'll be at the Brazil-Cote d'Ivoire game tomorrow, and the US-Algeria and Germany-Ghana games on Wednesday (yes, two games in one day), so look for us on TV! (We will be the people in the upper stands who you can't see)

More to come! Including a recap of the US-Slovenia and Argentina-S. Korea games.

Arriving in Joburg!

2010-06-19T04:50:00.003-07:00

Uganda!

2010-06-19T04:50:00.001-07:00

At some point, we'll fill you in on this incredible experience...

The KLA!

2010-06-07T05:39:00.001-07:00

Some last minute thoughts on Nairobi:
-My friends Sharon and Sarafin in Jikaze told me not to eat avocados or eggs while pregnant. Otherwise, the baby will be very big and the "arrival" will be quite painful. I wonder if they understand how big American babies are in general....
-Eric's housekeeper, Flora, did our laundry on Friday. Glorious glorious clean clothes. She is a saint among women.
-My shoes are still wet from Thursday's onslaught of water (four days later). I think there are things growing on the outside. I'd throw them away but I feel bad asking where the garbage is for my shoes from people who usually don't wear any...
-Did we mention you don't need prescriptions for most drugs? And that police don't have cars? Or guns?

We left Nairobi Friday night (June 4th) -- the bus was late, we were early, it started raining. Again. Needless to say, we were pretty excited to get on board. The trip is about 13 hours and the conditions were nice enough, but a little cramped (they allow you to put your chair way too far back for the comfort of the person in front of you). What wasn't awesome was going to the bathroom at one of the rest stops. A wooden shack with a hole in the ground. It took me about 3 or 4 minutes to figure out the best way to approach it. Without going into too many details, I'm not sure I settled on the ideal way. But I'm pretty sure I used some muscles I haven't used in some time. Just so you know.

When we got to the Kenya-Uganda border, we had to get off the bus, physically walk across the border, and then stand in line at immigration for our visas. Luckily we had American money (the currency demanded), because there were money changers offering some absurd rates. Some poor small American had to acquiesce and she was pretty upset about it. Standing out in the cold at 5am, in the dark, waiting in a really long line wasn't the greatest thing in the world, but it wasn't the worst. What was the worst was when the Muslim call to prayer came on over a loudspeaker and the bus starting pull away. Now standing in no man's land in the third world and watching your bus pull away -- that wasn't so awesome. Luckily it was just relocating and we made it to Kampala (KLA) without any other problems. Although some man (a passenger? a guy we picked up off the streets?) gave long impassioned speeches about the pimple cream and antacids that he was selling in a loud voice from the front of the bus for the last 45 minutes of the ride.

A woman we have come to know as Mama Flora came and picked us up from the bus station and took us to meet the brothers, and then to her home, where we are staying. She is incredible, and quite possibly the nicest woman either of us have met. She takes in refugees and abandoned children and treats them as her own (see Augustine, age 18 months, son of a mentally retarded woman) even though all her biological children are grown and either at university or on their own.

The Brothers are also incredible. And incredibly nice and welcoming. We got the chance to witness over 100 baptisms on Sunday (at the second of two Masses we attended). Also....we're both now godparents to small Ugandan children who used to be Muslims (when you have over 100 baptisms -- and another few hundrend coming next month, you get so desperate that even such lowlifes like Brian and I are acceptable). Also, either because of the language barrier, or because we are like zoo exhibits as white people around here, they got baptized as "Sharon" and "Brian B-----" [avoiding last names, because the internets can be weird places, but yeah, the little boy got Brian's first and last name]. Seriously, I couldn't make this up. We're also in about 5829052139 pictures after the baptism with the families of our kids, the kids themselves, their extended families, random people, more random people, and other random people. Everyone wanted a picture with the mzungu. What made it more interesting is that there was only one guy with a camera. There's also a great picture of just me, Brian, and baby Sharon. It looks like we the two of us somehow created a small black baby (but a beautiful baby, and with a great name to boot). Unfortunately that's not on my camera -- I can only hope that the Brothers get a hold of it and can send it to us.

There's much more to tell, but that might have to wait until next weekend! Which might be the next time we have internet.

-Sharon

Limuru

2010-06-04T04:16:00.001-07:00

June 1st-3rd, Limuru, Kenya and Jikaze, Kenya, Days 7-9. From Brian:

We spent the past 3 days in the towns of Limuru and Jikaze, north of Nairobi. Eric put us in touch with his friend Joe who lives in Limuru and he was kind enough to allow us to stay with him for a couple of days. Joe lives in a beautiful house in Limuru and is currently hosting a group of 11 college students, most from UNC, so it was a great atmosphere for us - lots of people to talk to and share experiences with. I'll give a play-by-play and some commentary of the trip:

We left Nairobi around 4:00 on a matatu headed for Limuru. The night before, we had talked to Edison, who lives near Limuru when he isn't at Eric's house, and he told us which route to take. This was by far the easiest matatu trip we have taken - we got on the express route, which takes the highway to Limuru where you're not allowed to stop and pick up more passengers. Edison thought it would be about a 1 hour trip, but it only took us 40 minutes. Once we got to town, we called Joe (having a cell phone here makes everything so much easier) and he came and picked us up. Joe works for a group called Global Connections and he basically lives in Limuru and takes on development projects as they come up near him. He does work in a children's center, in Jikaze, where his group is building houses for those displaced by the violence in Kenya after the 2007 elections, and various other projects, as well as hosting groups of university students who want to volunteer with the projects he works on. We were supposed to hear a talk on the post election violence from a Kenyan who lived through some of the worst of it, but his car broke down in Nairobi and he wasn't able to make it (for those of you who have seen Blood Diamond, TIA - This is Africa), so Joe gave us an overview of the situation. You can read more about it here, but here are the basics: there was a disputed presidential election in 2007, and the two candidates incited some young men in their tribes to go kill members of the other tribe. There were about 1,300 people killed, and most of them were friends and neighbors of those who murdered them. Many people who were not killed were forcibly removed from their homes by these gangs. The gangs would then occupy or burn down the family's home. These victims are called Internally Displaced People (IDP's) and they moved to various refugee camps around the country. In an effort to get rid of the problem of having so many refugees in their country, the government decided to give each person 10,000 Shillings (~USD125) and then told them to go back to their homes and move in next to the people who had forced them out of their homes at gunpoint. There was a small group of 150 people who decided that they could not move back, and decided to pool their money to purchase a new plot of land in the Great Rift Valley and make a fresh start as a community. This is now the resettlement village of Jikaze. When Joe first came upon the village, it was 5 acres of people living in tents - structures that were overcrowded, not rainproof, and hastily put together. Global Connections then began a project to build them homes. Joe and other volunteers build 50 homes for the people of Jikaze, made of a wood frame, mud walls and a tin roof. I know that doesn't sound great, but these houses are structurally sound, keep the rain out, and give the people of Jikaze something to own and care about.

We went with Joe and his group of volunteers to Jikaze to rebuild 2 homes that had been demolished last November when a trucker fell asleep at the wheel and plowed them over. No one was hurt, but the houses were leveled. We started the day by meeting with the elders of the community and taking tea (chai - which is tea with milk. I thought it was ok until I tried it with sugar. Then I thought it was delicious.). We listened to Mine (MEE-nay) talk about the story of Jikaze and about how much Joe had done to help them. Then Kristina took the floor and told everyone that despite all the hardship this community has faced, they now have hope in the Lord because of what Joe had done to help them. "You're country may abandon you; your family may even abandon you; but God will never abandon you." She also said that God uses people to do His will, and that Joe was a person God had used to do His will in Jikaze. Joe was in tears. It was one of the most powerful things I have ever seen.

After the meeting, we went to work putting walls on the houses. There were balloon frames in place already, and we were there that day to take some branches and nail them to the frame to make walls. Picture the 4 posts of the corners of the house, and we attached the branches between them, kind of like ribs attach to the backbone. Mud would then be filled in to create a solid wall. Sharon and I worked with Apollo, an older man of about 50, who looked much younger than his age. He attributed this to staying on the Lord's path and not chasing booze and women. Apollo showed us proper hammering technique with his hammer, whose handle had split and whose head had lost the face that is used to strike the nail. Sounds like a handicap, but I actually preferred it to the brand new hammers we had bought that morning. He also showed us how to cut the branches with a Panga (machete). I had never used a machete before, and they are officially awesome. After lunch, we went back to work, but Apollo had gone off because his goats had wandered into the forest and he had to go get them. We started cutting wood and hammering by ourselves, and asking "Hey, where's Apollo's hammer? Where's Apollo's machete?" Then we decided those sounded like mythical objects that we had to go on a quest to find. "Jikaze - The Quest for Apollo's Hammer." We packed our lunches, but some women cooked for us anyway and brought out a huge bowl of Mokimo - a potato and corn dish that was delicious.

We took tea again that afternoon and then headed back to Limuru. The view of the Great Rift Valley from the road was amazing and we stopped at an overlook to get a coke on the way back. the elevation was between 6,500 and 8,000 feet depending on who you asked. We went back and had a delicious taco dinner with awesome guacamole because avocados are about USD 0.07 here. Kenyans are blown away with how expensive they are in America. We planned on leaving the next day, but decided that we had such an amazing time the first day that we really wanted to go back to Jikaze.

The second day, we found out that the truck that would deliver more wood to Jikaze (we worked until we ran out the day before) would not arrive until around noon, so we decided to stop over at the children's center and hang out with the kids for a while. The center serves kids who are pre-school age, and when we came in, they were doing math problems that I'm pretty sure we don't do until 1st or 2nd grade in the states. Stuff like 9+6-4=? The craziest thing was that when we walked in, the kids were all sitting quietly at their places doing their work. With no teacher in the room! We helped the kids with the problems and graded papers, but I'm pretty sure they would have done better on their assignments if we hadn't shown up at all. The kids were really cute though, and it was so cool to be able to spend time there. Except I did feel a little bad because I made Thomas do his problems over again a few times and he didn't like me very much after a while.

Then we went to Jikaze and decided to go ahead and work on the mud walls of the houses while we waited for the truck to deliver the wood. We dug pits and mixed water in with the dirt, and then stacked mud in between the ribs that we had put up the day before. I think there was a little too much water in the mud, so we started making fun of each other for "not learnin' proper muddin' technique." I'll admit it's a little disheartening to watch the wall you just build come sliding down after 5 minutes while you scramble to try and save it. Picture your favorite sandcastle at high tide. We also saw Apollo again, and he said he wasn't feeling well, and then described his symptoms, which sounded like those of malaria. Hope he feels better soon.

The women made us delicious rice and beans for lunch while we waited out a rainstorm (tough to do proper muddin' in the rain) and then Sharon and I took a walk through town after. We picked up a heard of about 12 kids who all wanted to hold our hands and play. We ran them around for a little bit and took some pictures, and then hauled them back to the worksite. Sharon went back to muddin' and I went to the truck to unload the shipment of wood. I decided I preferred to carry heavy stuff than to lose the war with the mud. I spent the rest of the day hammering away and finishing up some walls that we couldn't finish yesterday. We then took a quick tea and headed back to Limuru. Joe dropped us off in town so we could catch the matatu back to Nairobi, and we said goodbye to everyone.

Expert matatu riders that we were, we hopped right on the 116 route back to Nairobi, only to be informed that this one didn't go all the way there. So we got off and hopped on another . . . which didn't go past Eric's place like they said they would. Sharon decided we were being slapped in the face because we were getting cocky. So we got off downtown and walked until we hit a road we knew, and then tried to hail one that was going towards Eric's place . . . except they were all full going that direction. Then it got dark. Then it started raining. We walked back towards downtown to the main matatu center and looked for our route back to Westlands, by Eric's place . . . and the line was 30 people deep. We finally squeezed our way onto one and headed for Westlands . . .and then turned back onto the road that we took into Nairobi from Limuru. Then it started raining hard. Like, monsoon season hard. Like, later in the trip, we had to cross a road on a speed bump because we were afraid of getting pulled downstream by the river that now occupied the road. I tried to talk to the driver, and finally found out that we had already passed Westlands, and would have to get out and catch a matatu going the other way. Just then, Sharon saw the sign for the road Eric lives on! We got out right there and ran back to the shopping center on the same road to dry off and let our anger subside a little, bought some chicken for dinner and headed home. So, the trip that took us 40 minutes on the way there took 2 1/2 hours on the way back. We'll be less arrogant in the future about transportation in Africa, I promise.

Apollo's Hammer

2010-06-04T04:15:00.001-07:00

Days 7-9: June 1st-3rd, Limuru and Jikaze, Kenya. From Sharon (this was such an incredible experience and I feel like we both have things we want to say about it, so we're both posting about these days. Apologies for the overlap in giving the background and agenda, but hopefully it will still be worth reading!)

Tuesday we woke up late, decided we didn't have time to get see the elephant orphanage before leaving and settled into a big breakfast and early afternoon of reading and relaxing before we needed to head down to the matatu to go to Eric's friend's Joe's place, where we'll be spending the next couple of days (yes, so we basically did nothing until 2pm. Hey, we're in Africa, we do what we want). It turned out to be a great decision because we saw 1) monkeys in Eric's backyard. In the trees. Real, live, wild monkeys. 9-10 of them. Just hanging out, eating leaves, urinating. You know, the things monkeys do. and 2) what we gathered was a wedding procession starting from Eric's compound. Which apparently in Kenya consists of dressing up, getting in your car with all your friends, and honking as you roll through the compound. (Nice Kenyan lady as we walked out of the house:"oh hello, sorry for the disturbance." NB: Kenyans like the word disturb and all variations of it). We successfully got downtown on matatu number 1 and caught the Limuru express matatu without any real problems. I got to sit in the front, which was awesome because it feels less crowded and I got some good views of the countryside we passed through. Lots of fields, more Kenyans walking along the highways (people seriously walk everywhere here -- for miles and miles and miles), donkeys pulling carts, little boys herding cattle and goats, getting stopped by the police, you know, a normal day in the life.

When we arrived in Limuru, we called Joe to come pick us up. Joe is a friend of Eric's who works with a small non-profit called Global Connections. They fully fund the Limuru Children's Center, which is part orphanage/children's home part nursery/primary school. Joe specifically has also been doing a lot of work with Jikaze, which is a small community located in the Rift Valley (mindblowingly beautiful and expansive...runs all the way to Jordan). Jikaze was founded by a group of IDP's -- internally displaced persons, who lost or had to flee their homes during the violence following the presidential election at the end of 2007. It's an interesting (and by interesting, I mean, sad) story that I encourage everyone to read up on, but the basic gist of it is: the presidential candidate (and incumbent) from the majority tribe, the Kikuyu, appeared to be losing in the polls and it was widely believed that he would lose the election to his opponent from the Luo tribe. At the last minute however, he somehow won. There were rumors and accusations of voting fraud and outright theft of the election, but the aftermath was that members of Parliament paid young men to kill, harass, attack, and run out of villages members of the opposing tribe. Since Kenyan identification cards carry your tribal affiliation, identifying the "enemy" was relatively easy. Houses were burned and looted, people were murdered (official count around 1,300 or so, Joe guessed that it was actually much much more than that) and threatened. Many were forced to flee, sometimes without family members or children, and settled in refugee camps. The Kenyan government, under international pressure to do something about the problem, gave all the IDP's 10,000 Ksh (roughly $125) and told them to return to their homes and start their lives again.

Needless to say, that wasn't really a tenable solution. These people had had their homes burned or looted by their neighbors....and $125 isn't really enough to start again. An enterprising group of 145 Kikuyu who met in an IDP camp decided to pool their money together to buy land and start a community...and thus Jikaze was born. They found land for cheap in the Rift Valley, about two hours northwest of Nairobi (about an hour from Limuru). They started off in tents, but eventually started building houses. Joe's group came in about a year ago and offered to help. The community insisted that the rest of the community be housed before any money be devoted to developing business and other interests. Joe calls them "a happy little Socialist commune" and it's a fairly apt description. Unfortunately, a few months ago, a truck ran through two of the houses, destroying them. And just left. Luckily no one was hurt, but the community was now two houses short. The task for college students hosted by Joe this week (and Brian and I, by association)? Rebuild the houses.

After staying at Joe's (a huge house for the staff of Global Connections that could also fit us and the 15 or so college students there), we took a bus out to Jikaze. It's a small, tight little village of 40-45 mud huts with tin roofs in perfect little rows, with crops and animals nearby. We first met with the elders of the village, so they could tell us their story in their own words. (We'd picked up a high school student, Ester, from Limuru to translate from Kikuyu). Mene, who, as far as I could tell was the matriarchal head of Jikaze, gave us the story much as Joe had told it the night before. She was very thankful for the help that Joe had given Jikaze, as he has done much in terms of providing water filters (the water pumped to their village is contaminated), helping provide materials and labor for the huts, getting loans for Jikaze residents from the local bank, and so on.

After she finished, Christine, a larger more passionate woman, said she had something to say. She explained that she had been separated from her husband, but had joined the group that eventually founded Jikaze. She noted that they were a blessed, very blessed community and that God had done great things for them. Her sincerity was such that even though we were sitting in a one-room mud hut, with no clean running water, a hole in the ground infested with every insect imaginable for a toilet, after being run from their homes by their neighbors (who had been paid by the government to do so), and losing family members to violence or the fog of violence (one man got hit in the head, and woke up in a hospital with no idea where any of his family was and without any way to contact them), I honestly believed her. She told us that what she had learned from their experience was that "your family can desert you, your country can desert you, but God can never desert you." She said that God had blessed them with Joe and, in describing what he had done for them, gave the most beautiful and powerful praise of an individual that I've ever heard in my entire life. I won't lie and say I wasn't about to start bawling like a baby. She said that even when he returns to America, God will continue to bless Joe, because He sees the love and goodness in a person's heart. She finished with "although we cannot give Joe anything in thanks, our God, who sees and knows all, will surely bless him." Joe's humble tears were the most heartbreakingly beautiful thing I've ever seen.

We started work on the houses, which when we arrived, were only wooden skeletons. The goal of the first day was to nail wooden branches horizontally to these skeletons to create the walls, which would later be filled in with mud. Brian and I had the good fortune to be sent to the second house, where few people were working. All morning we worked with Apollo, who was a wonder of a man and great to talk to without the distraction of the rest of the group being around. Also, Apollo's hammer sounds like some mythical object that confers great strength on its bearer. As soft Americans, we weren't too great at driving nails into wood with three fell swoops and found that Apollo, old thin man that he was, would frequently take the hammer from our hands and finish the nail himself. When we did well though (got lucky on a soft piece of wood, or found the head of the nail easily), he would smile and exclaim "Ah! Now you are used!" Which probably means...used to doing this now. He was very curious about how houses were built in America, how good his English was (pretty good actually), what we thought of Kenya, what we called peanuts (they call them ground nuts) and so on. He was quite the conversationalist and it was nice to have that kind of interaction. We also got to use a machete, or panga in Kikuyu. Yes, we used a machete in Africa. He also asked us our names again, even though we'd introduced ourselves at tea time. He realized his mistake and explained that "all you white people resemble." As we finished up before lunch, he asked how old we were (24) and said "oh, I could be your grandfather!" He is 54, but has the cleanest, smoothest face that you would guess much younger. He said he would tell us the secret to staying young: "Living a good Christian life. And walking the way of Jesus. Jesus will keep the wrinkles away." Duly noted, Apollo, duly noted.

We'd packed a lunch from Joe's house, but were also given mokimo from the village women. It's a potato mash that has corn kernels in it and something else to give it the color and consistency of pistachio ice cream. It was pretty good, but I was near full. Brian ate his fair share though, which was good since they gave us mounds and mounds and mounds of it.

After lunch, Brian and I finished up our wall (Apollo was nowhere to be found -- he told us the next day he had been "correcting his sheep and goats who had scattered in the wilderness"). Some local boys came and helped us with the next wall before we ran out of wood and had to quit for the day. I'm not sure where these boys came from and I"m pretty sure it wasn't going to be there house, but it was just another part of the "happy little commune" of Jikaze. We also discovered that little kids looooooooove my sunglasses -- "googles!!" -- and liked to wear them. They also played with my camera, which was pretty adorable. We tried to teach them to take pictures, but it wasn't quite as easy a lesson as I might have imagined. We took tea -- again, then boarded the bus to return to Joe's and a delicious dinner that had been prepared for us.

We were supposed to leave Thursday morning to come back to Nairobi, but had such a fantastic time in Jikaze, that we arranged to work another day and come back Thursday night. Stay tuned for how THAT voyage turns out.

Thursday morning we got up and headed onto the bus again. Before we'd really gotten out of Limuru, we got word that the wood would not yet be delivered when we got to Jikaze ("TIA -- this is Africa") so we decided to stop at the Children's Center on the way out. There we got to help little (4-5 year olds) with their arithmetic (Brian was especially loved by two little boys and I wished my camera wasn't out of batteries) while we passed some time. I got talking to the camp director, who proudly pointed out some of his best pupils. One could read all by himself. Another was excellent at handwriting (actually this kid's handwriting was really really nice) and math. Three little girls were "excellent, excellent" students. Then he pointed out another little boy to me and told me he struggled. That his mother had abandoned him when he was 6 months old. And that his father kept trying to commit suicide. And kill the boy along with him. That neighbors broke down the door one day to find the father passed out and the boy sipping on farming chemicals like he'd been told to do. TIA?

When we left and got to Jikaze, we had more tea (of course) and commenced mudding the houses -- mixing dirt and water (shocking) and then slapping it on to the walls. This was actually kind of difficult, because if the mud was too wet, it wouldn't hold...and just fell down. A little frustrating. After lunch, Brian returned to hammering wood on the second house and I think he was glad to do so. During lunch, we got delicious beans and rice to supplement our packed lunches (We don't have shoes, but we're going to make you lots and lots of food. Incredible). Brian and I took a walk down through the village to see the sunflowers and gained a horde of young children. They all wanted to hold our hands. And dance. Incredibly adorable. Don't worry, we have pictures. They also laugh just at the sight of us and yell out "mzungo!" (white person) to get your attention. And then they giggle nervously some more.

During mudding after lunch, I got to working and talking with two young women about my age -- Sharon (what a great name!) and Sarafin. They asked me to explain the difference between the words "lying" and "cheating," which is actually pretty difficult to do with only basic English vocabulary and no common social references. Sharon is 18 and has a nine-month old child. She is unmarried. Sarafin is 24 and has three children. She is married but apparently her husband works in a far-off city. ("to earn money to send back?" "To earn money, yes, but he does not send it back.") They learned I had no children and was unmarried and then were AMAZED, AMAZED that I was 24. Quite past my prime apparently. I was told that if I was Kenyan, I probably would never get married because Kenyan men like 17-18 year olds. I am apparently SOOOO OLD. They were amazed to hear that no one thinks that 24 is too old to be unmarried and childless in America. They spoke of how they wish they had more education, but lacked the resources to get it -- "we are too young for our minds to be idle." They asked me if I'd ever seen a mud hut before (no), if houses were like that in America (no), if I'd ever built a house before (no). Basically I was like a child to them. But they really liked me. They told me they were quite sad to see me go and that they really liked talking to me. They were quite the characters themselves, so I'm pretty sure I got the better end of the deal. (my favorite thing to tell Kenyans is how expensive avocados are in America. Here they're like 5/80 of a dollar, however much that is). I got a picture from the two of them (and digits from Sharon! boom!), which is hysterical because Kenyans don't believe in smiling in pictures. ("We don't look good when we smile." Really? Because it looks like your dog just died. Yeah, that definitely looked better). I had little helpers throughout the day (no older than 4 or 5) who would bring me clumps of mud from the mud pit so that I could put them on the house. I worked out a (nonverbal) deal with one of them that he could wear my sunglasses while he worked, as long as he worked hard. Yes, I just coerced a four year old.

When we finished for the day, we had tea (again), thanked our friends and headed out. Brian and I somehow took three matatus and 2.5 hours to get back home, and ended up running half a mile or so in the pouring rain of Biblical proportions. It was pretty awful, so let's not talk about that anymore.

Basically those two days were the best days yet. It was an incredible experience to see this community and I was blown away by them and their awesome (in the most literal sense of the word) hospitality. I know it's completely and utterly cliche to say "oh I came to Africa, saw poverty, and thus, saw God," but the actual experience was more along the lines of coming to Africa and seeing God in the faith and hope amidst the poverty. I know I had more profound things to say, but now that I've reached the end of this novel of a blog post, I figure that about sums it up.

NB: Tonight we take the bus to Kampala and will be working with the Christian Brothers of Missionaries of the Poor for the next week, so probably won't have internet access.

Nairobi, cont.

2010-05-31T08:41:00.001-07:00

Day 6, Monday, May 28th, Nairobi. From Brian:

More exploring today. We felt pretty comfortable using the Matatus today, and even got off more or less where we wanted to this time. If you ignore the general condition of roads and traffic in the city, these are actually a pretty good transportation system. Because they will rarely go on their route without a full passenger load (14 people or so), they can charge only 30 shillings (USD 0.40) per passenger. Because it's a private system and not very heavily regulated, it makes for a very efficient system (as long as the matatus don't overload with 20 passengers or so and cause a safety hazard) (which they do).

We went down to check out the National Museum of Kenya, which contains some really cool taxidermies of african animals as well as some hominid fossils that were found in Kenya. We couldn't decide if the fossils were real or not - they did look real, but there was no guard at the museum, just plastic cases. And the "preservation" system was to lay the fossils on some foam. Let's just say I hope those aren't the real ones.

We saw a park yesterday that we wanted to check out today. It's kind of their Central Park, I suppose, located just by the city center, but it feels very calm and removed from the craziness of the city.

A few notes on Nairobi and my experience here so far:

This is a different city than any other I have been in. Definitely not planned in advance and not designed to handle the traffic it now has, you can tell that the Brits were here. Roads are windy and there are roundabouts everywhere. There are some nicer sections of town, but because there is no money for infrastructure, there are hardly any sections of town that don't look at least a little run down. The monsoons don't help either. It becomes very hard to maintain roads and sidewalks when they have to withstand a rainy season each year.

I've also never been this acutely aware that I am white. In South America, I was definitely a foreigner, but you had to wait until I opened my mouth to find that out. I've been in cities in Haiti and Jamaica where you could tell I was in the minority by my skin color, but I was with a group in both of those settings and with people who knew what they were doing in those cultures. Here, Sharon and I have been by ourselves for a few days now that Eric is back in camp, and it's been an experience to just walk around the city. It's good and bad, and most of it comes down to money. White usually means rich, and it seems like I'm walking around town with a Dollar Sign spinning around my head. We walk by matatu stands and are almost physically pushed into them by the operators. Kids on the street see us from a mile away and head straight for us to ask for money. Businesses will sometimes push us to the head of a line. But there are upsides: People seem to have a great respect for Sharon, as a white woman, and afford her special consideration in some cases. We are also pretty much able to go wherever we want, because there is no reason to shoo a rich person away from most places.

Heart of Darkness...er..Nairobi

2010-05-31T08:40:00.003-07:00

Day 5 - Sunday, May 30th. From Sharon:

After failing to get to City Center yesterday, we decided to make that our sole goal of the day. Well that, and attending church. We'd gotten an offer to go to the church service that the house goes to, but kindly passed. While it would have been easy from a logistical point of view, I think we both wanted to see a Kenyan service (Eric called their church "westernized"). Our trusty internet cafe eventually led us to a Mass at the Holy Family Basilica at 6pm. Since it was located in city center, that seemed perfect.

At this point, it was time to brave our first matatu experience. With no guide. Two idiot white people trying to negotiate non-regulated, unposted schedules and stops, "public" transportation systems in Nairobi. Seems kinda like a disaster waiting to happen. Here's the basic rundown of how these things work: a matatu has been described as a half bus/half taxi, but it's really hard to draw comparisons of any kind. Basically these are 16 passenger vans (made by Toyota) that were probably designed as 10 passenger vans. You either catch one randomly on the side of the road (they'll stop pretty much anywhere if they have an empty seat) or at a matatu "staging area," hop in and take off down the road. There's a driver and what I'll just call a "doorman." The doorman solicits passengers, collects fares, and tells the driver when to stop (which he does when he sees a potential passenger or you signal him). At staging areas, they'll wait until the matatu is filled before taking off. Which explains the lack of schedule. It's like a bus that only moves when full or nearly full. Supposedly there's different numbered routes, which all Kenyans are familiar with, but which we are decidedly not. Although many in Nairobi speak English, the doormen we encountered weren't much use in telling us whether or not the matatu went where we needed to go. Luckily, we were headed to City Center, which is a prime destination, so our chances were good that we'd pick a correct one. Approaching the staging area (not too far from the mall by Eric's place) was a pretty overwhelming experience. Probably 5-10 doormen converged on us, all waving their hands in our faces, yelling in Swahili (with a random "good price good price" mixed in) and trying to usher us towards their matatu. We finally picked one and crammed ourselves in. I can't begin to describe how cramped, hot, stuffy, and crowded these things are. There is basically no comparison in the States, to include rush hour metro/subway rides. There are loud bumping tunes though, and every traveler knows that makes everything better.

We paid our fare and hoped we'd recognize our stop when we were getting close. Luckily, we were trying to get at a prime destination downtown, so we didn't need to signal to stop and pretty much everyone else got out too. We ended up in City Center at Tom Mboya and River Rd, a roundabout with the staging area in the middle. Remember these cross streets, they'll be important to the story later. We were trying to get our bus tickets to Kampala for later in the week, so headed off down Tom Mboya in the direction we knew the ticketing office roughly was. The streets in downtown Nairobi are similarly insane, like the highway. There are stands/shops all along the sidewalks, people still don't obey traffic lights or laws of any kind so every street crossing is like throwing your life into the hands of the drivers around you, and the sidewalks are packed with people. PACKED. Again, as the only white people in sight, we were constantly approached by vendors to purchase whatever they were trying to sell. In what ended up being several hours downtown, I think we saw 4 other white people. And we probably saw a good several thousand individuals.

We found the train station, which was crammed with buses and seemed like a good possibility for the office location. It wasn't. At this point, we'd been walking for almost an hour. It was hot, and sweaty, still loud and crowded, and I almost ripped the freshly cut pineapple slices out of the hands of a street vendor. Parasites and infected water be damned. We headed back up to where Google Maps said the bus station was. It wasn't. It turned out to be the hub for the local buses, but not the intercity buses we were looking for. A kind Kenyan took pity on us with our map and cell phone and distressed expressions and tried to help. He gave us a rough idea of where to go, but didn't fully know how to explain it or what the streets were called. We got in touch with Eric's coworker Clayton, who grew up in Nairobi, and he gave us some directions, but trying to find the "central matatu staging area" as he said to do, was a lost cause -- every other street corner looked like a central staging area. We wandered some more...and found the Hilton, which Clay had mentioned was a good landmark. There was a tourist information center there -- hooray! Too bad it was closed on Sunday. At this point, we'd been wandering in chaotic downtown Nairobi for almost two hours. No fewer than three street children had grabbed on to Brian's arm and refused to let go for a couple blocks. We then told a man selling safari trips that we'd give him an honest listen if he told us where Akumba, the bus company whose office we were looking for, was. He agreed and walked us there. We did give him an honest listen, but for $200 a pop, and not a lot of free days left in Nairobi, we passed on his safari. I felt a little bad. But not as bad as the fact that it took us over two hours to find the office. We headed back up Tom Mboya and decided to make a note of the surrounding cross streets so that we could find our way back on Friday when it was time to catch the bus. The next street south of the street the office was on? River Road. Yes, we'd spent more than two hours wandering around the city when our destination was two blocks from our starting point. We should probably write a travel book.

We had a bunch of time to kill before Mass, so headed south in the direction of the Basilica. We stopped at the August 7th Memorial Park, which commemorates the bombing of the US Embassy in 1998. (the embassy at that time was in downtown...it's currently way north in the city, away from the city center, and heavily heavily guarded and fortified). It was a peaceful, quiet area (ironically next to the chaos of the train station) and we thought it well worth our 20 Ksh entrance fee. We wanted to check out the Maasi Market, which was downtown, near the Basilica.

I don't know if this is how the market works for everyone or just white people, but we were quickly approached by a man who called himself Picasso and his porter. Picasso is the boss and will lead you all around the market. The porter takes your "maybes" and carries them around while you continue to shop. They both do a good job befriending you, encouraging you to look at different vendors' goods, and generally increasing business for the market. Picasso, "the boss," became BFF with Brian, while the porter, talked me up. We picked out a few things for our families, and then went to the "office," an area by the fence where they laid out our "maybes" and we picked what we wanted. Then the negotiations began. The porter became the secretary and wrote down his initial offer of price in a little black book. It was ridiculously high. Brian countered with a low offer, that probably wasn't low enough in hindsight. The porter/secretary insisted that we were friends and could do this nicely, that he would "come down like a monkey" and that Brian needed to "jump like a Maasi boy." Yes, it was as funny as you're imagining it. They went back and forth until Brian reached his "final" offer. We all negotiated to about 15% above that, which made us realize we should probably make our "final offer" a little early. That's what you get for being honest about your final offer. Oh well, lesson learned.

We went to the Basilica about 45 minutes early since we were in the area...and tired. Having never heard sung Swahili before, we marveled at its beauty at the opening hymn. The Mass was pretty standard....except it was a little difficult to understand, even though it was in English (hymns were largely in Swahili and, even with them written out in the hymnal, were a little difficult to join in. Lots of consonant blends that I did not learn in 2nd grade with "bl," "str," and "cr"). The homily drew a parallel between the three-in-one of God and the need for the tribes of Kenya to unite together as one as the referendum on the new Constitution approaches. I made a mental note to look up more on that.

We had a little bit of trouble getting back to Eric's, but made it back safe and sound. We cooked ourselves a delicious dinner with the groceries we'd gotten yesterday (not sick yet!), which was made even more delicious by the presence of sweet pineapple (soooo good) and some quality (okay, maybe not quality) Kenyan beer. We're also really bonding with Edison over How I Met Your Mother. And by bonding I mean, we laugh and watch many many pirated episodes in row together. But basically the same thing.

Oof.

2010-05-31T08:40:00.001-07:00

May 29th, Day 4, Nairobi. From Brian:

Ok, jet lag has officially caught up to us. We had grand plans of getting up this morning and going down to the city center to find the bus station and get our tickets to Kampala, and to check out the city. Well, we slept until about 2. Hopefully now we're back to a somewhat normal amount of sleep. We got ourselves up and showered, headed down to the internet cafe by Eric's place to catch up on email, and then decided to grab some lunch. We were pretty hungry and recovering from our Ethiopian feast the night before, so we decided to try the sports pub above the cafe we were in. The place was nice, but felt just like any Applebee's style bar back home. But we did get to meet a gentleman who introduced himself as Julius Caesar (IX? I think?) and proceeded to dance all around the bar, by himself. At 4:00 in the afternoon. So we had some avocado cheeseburgers and Tusker beers, and then decided to go to the city center.

Unfortunately, better judgement took hold of us then and we realized that it would take a couple hours to get to the bus station and get tickets, which would put us back home at around 8 or 9 (it gets dark around 7 here, because we're so close to the equator), and we decided that wasn't a great idea.

So we decided to go get some groceries. We went to the Nakumatt to pick up some rice, chicken, beer, corn, avocados and pineapple to make dinner. We haven't really had a "Kenyan" meal yet, so we don't really know what to make. So we'll just make some tasty food. We also had a great checkout experience. Apparently when you buy produce, you're supposed to take a sticker and place it on your corn, avocado, etc. Being Americans, we were not aware of this, and felt a little embarrassed when each item had to be sent back to be properly stickered before we could pay. I guess the only good news is that their computer system was so difficult to use that the checkout guy hadn't finished entering all the other items we bought before the runner came back with our properly stickered produce. Still, the checkout guy and the guy behind us got to exchange a look that said, "crazy white people."

Today felt like a bit of a failure, but at least we're caught up on sleep and ready to go now!

Flashing, Slums, and Traffic. Like you've never seen before

2010-05-31T08:02:00.001-07:00

Day 3 - Friday, May 28th. From Sharon:

I can't speak for Brian, but I know I slept like a rock Thursday night. It was nice to be in a bed after two nights spent on airplanes. I stayed with the head female staff of the camp, who are about the nicest people you could ever hope to meet. They might actually be the nicest, most friendly people I've ever met. But that could also be because I've been away from the South for too long. Also a possibility.

We started the morning by going to the camp's "devotion," which typically consists of a Bible story for reflection throughout the day (and discussion at night for the campers) as well as some praise. The camp staff is little more musically inclined than my family's genes allow for, so in addition to being a very calming, reflective, peaceful way to start the day, it was pretty beautiful from an acoustic perspective.

From that point, we left camp with Eric to drop our bags at his house, where we'll be staying for our time in Nairobi (the house is inhabited by the senior leadership of the camp, so they're all at the camp for most of the summer). The house is beautiful, and huge, and, as is common for the not-poor in Nairobi, guarded 24 hours a day and gated. The guards also apparently patrol at night with their watchdogs (including into Eric's backyard) -- unclear if this makes me feel better or worse...

We also went by one of the schools from which many of the campers come from, Rosslyn Academy, to pick up applications. The school was founded as a missionary school and many American kids (kids of missionaries or diplomats) in Nairobi go there. It's huge and beautiful and most "hallways" are outside. The gym is "open air" and doubles as the cafeteria -- seems like a pretty sweet place to have to go everyday. Eric's group has a really good relationship with the teachers and staff there, so they collect applications in the main office and are generally very receptive. Later in the day we would go to the International School of Kenya, which apparently is more international students and wealthy Kenyans, and is run on the British system. It was similarly large and beautiful.

We met the camp staff back at Village Market, which, despite it's name, is essentially a shopping mall. Since it was Friday, the local market was there, so we got our first taste at Kenyan price negotiations. First we stopped and got a cell phone from Nakumatt, Kenya's Wal-Mart, which I hadn't imagined that we would do, but at the low low price of around $25 USD, it seemed like a good investment. Especially since after today, Eric will be working and we will be set loose on our own to get lost in Nairobi. We loaded it with 500 Kenyan shillings (Ksh), which should get us pretty far considering texts are 3 Ksh and talking is 6 Ksh/minute. Really shows you want a sham US cell phone companies are running. It's also free to receive calls, so Eric introduced us to the Kenyan phrase "flashing." (Brian to me: none of that for you). Flashing is apparently calling someone and hanging up before they answer (which is free to do). That is either a predetermined message -- "I'm done, meet me back out front" -- or, in the case of someone who doesn't have any minutes left, "call me, I'm out of minutes." Eric informed us that "Kenyans do this all the time." Kenyans seem like real smart people to me; I like them.

We had lunch at the food court (seriously, we could have been at an American mall) and had the good fortune to run into Eric's friend Joe who works with refugee camps (caused by the election violence in 2007-2008) out in western Kenya. He's going to let us come along for a day or two next week to visit the camps and work with the group of college students that he has out that week (from UNC, no less) to do some house building and other work. That should be a great way to see some of Kenya outside of the city, since Eric doesn't really have the time to take us to his projects out in west Kenya.

After lunch, we (where we=Brian) haggled with the market women to purchase some necklaces before heading back to Eric's place. Eric said he starts with an offer of 1/4 of the price of what the market vendors tell him.....we didn't start that low, but ended up at about 50% of what the vendor originally asked for, so we felt relatively good about that. As I was taught in "car buying 101," in 9th grade ELP (Economic Legal and Political systems for the unlucky non-North Carolinians among you), the biggest power you have is to walk away. As soon as we tried that tactic, "well, that's nice, we'll walk around and be back," she countered with "how much for now?" and gave us a price 50 Ksh above that. Thanks, Mr. Tharp, I owe you one.

At Eric's place, we hung out with his friend Paul for a bit, which was an interesting experience to say the least. Paul runs camps for Kenyans (Eric's camp is targeted more towards non-Kenyans, who, unlike those in the public school system, have the summer off) and also grew up in Nairobi (he went to Rosslyn Academy). His family has a ranch not far from where we went rock climbing so....he carries a pistol. On his ankle. Apparently there's bandits afoot. More (or at least less frightening) is the fact that his license took 5 years and 7 applications to get. Apparently the going bribe rate for getting a license when you want it is $8,000. Charming.

Our last activity was visiting Kibera, which is Nairobi's largest slum. Estimates of the population there are anywhere from 200,000 to 1 million people, although Eric thought a quarter million was about right. In any event, it is everything that you might imagine a slum in Nairobi to be. There are a couple of streets that run through/around it, but other than that, it's a huge area filled with tin/cardboard/fabric "houses" that are about five by ten feet. Dirt "alleyways" run through in confusing and intricate ways that even Eric says he never hopes to master. These alleyways are filled with trash and feces, children run around barefoot and stare in awe at us, small shacks line the road offering food, shoe shines, or clothing. In irony of ironies, we were there to return soccer cleats that Eric had borrowed from his friend, Kip, who lives there (someone earlier in the day, to Eric: "you borrowed cleats...from someone..in Kibera???"). Although we didn't see Kip's house, Eric says it's about 7'x9' and has a bed, dresser, and desk. That's not his room, that's his whole house. It was frustrating and disheartening and sad to see that level of poverty -- unlike anything I'd ever seen -- and even more frustrating and disheartening and sad to hear Eric say he wasn't sure if there were any good avenues out. (an aside: There are apparently 1/4 the number of secondary schools (high schools) as primary schools in the Kenyan public school system, so aside from the money needed for uniforms, transportation, etc, it is extremely competitive academically to get in.) Kip wants to get his certificate in social work and work with youth to improve their condition, and I guess it's perhaps those small steps from which all big change have to come...? Let's hope so. Kip is the smiley-est person I've ever met, so I'm hoping and praying for him.

We had dinner at Eric and friends' favorite Ethiopian restaurant which was.....delicious. I was very proud of DC to find out that Ethiopian food there is almost exactly the same as Ethiopian food in East Africa. Strong work, District.

The drive back to Eric's house was INSANITY. I've never seen so much traffic and chaos in my entire life. And I've been stuck in both DC and NYC traffic. There are no lines on Nairobi roads and what traffic lights exist, are completely and utterly ignored. Trucks are overloaded beyond any sort of safety standard, matatus weave in and out of traffic like they're in their own little world, pedestrians dart in and out because the lack of traffic light obedience means there's no good place so cross the street, and, when the going gets really rough, KENYANS DRIVE ON THE SIDEWALKS. I'd heard from a Dave Berry column on international driving that this happened in France, but never really believed it (nor did I see it when I was in France). Let me tell you, it happens in Nairobi.

We got back to Eric's, watched a little How I Met Your Mother on pirated DVD's with Edison, the university student staying at the house for the summer (it was weird, felt like I was back home), and promptly passed out from an Ethiopian food coma.

We are in AFRICA!!!

2010-05-31T08:00:00.000-07:00

May 27th, Day 2

Somehow the second redeye in a row was easier than the first. Or at least I felt relatively less terrible when I got off the plane this morning than yesterday morning. So we deplaned via stairway and got to see a great sunrise from the doorway of the plane. Despite the pollution, the sky here is the bluest I can remember seeing anywhere (yes, even bluer than NC). We headed over to get our visas, which we somehow didn't screw up, and man that is one of the cooler visas I've seen - all official looking and colorful. We then went to pick up my bag, which we were hoping had made it to Nairobi. The staff at Heathrow had not exactly given any reasons to have confidence that it would. We looked on one conveyor belt and then the other, and then at the stacks of luggage off to the side, and I finally gave up and went to talk to luggage services. As Eric put it, "Yeah, I saw you walking back and forth from the luggage to baggage services looking angrier each time you went by. I figured that wasn't good." As I finally gave up and filled out the luggage claim form, Sharon emerged from the bowels of Jomo Kenyatta International Airport with my bag. Big sigh of relief.

Eric led us out to his car and we started driving to camp. This was some of the craziest driving I've seen, and it explains why Eric is now considered a maniac driver when he comes back to the states. I was first thrown off because they drive on the wrong side of the road here, which I'm pretty sure I won't get used to before we leave. There are also no police cars here. That's right, the cops have neither cars nor guns, so even if they tried to enforce traffic laws, they can really only yell at you.

A big part of what Eric does here is to run a camp for kids who's parents are expatriates of America and other countries, mostly with missionary parents, along with some Kenyan kids. It's a Christian camp that offers activities such as a high ropes course, rock climbing, etc. The kids don't arrive until the weekend, but the staff are training, so Sharon and I kindly volunteered to serve as climbers for the staff to practice belaying.

There was another part of the mountain that you could hike up, so Sharon and I decided to do that. We went up probably 1000 feet and then got to the point where we decided there was no shame in not having a machete, so we didn't quite make the top.

We also got a mini-safari on our first day. Eric drove us around the camp and took us to see some Giraffe and Zebra, and we caught a glimpse of some Gazelle. The giraffe were very calm and let us walk up to within a hundred feet or so before sauntering off (yeah that's the best word I can use to describe their gait. Picture the way a bird bobs its head as it walks and then picture that motion being made by a Giraffe).

We stayed awake as long as we could, which was until about 9:30 or so, and then we crashed. A pretty amazing day for our first one in country.

Whelmed

2010-05-27T10:49:00.001-07:00

May 25th - Day 0

Once we finally got out of the District, we made it to Brian's family's house. Brian's mom did a remarkable job of restraining from grilling us for all the details on our final plans, which is impressive considering MY parents probably would have resisted our venture to the third world in any way possible. Probably by at least refusing to drive us to the airport. Brian's family is a little more accomodating and we had a full send-off party at the airport with his mother and siblings. We got a "Day 0" picture with our packs on, said our goodbyes, and the journey began! (I did grab Brian as we walked away and demanded in only half mock terror - "what are we DOING??")

During our flight to London, we had some delicious chicken curry and watched "Invictus" in order to get in the proper frame of mind for both [South] Africa and thrilling world sporting events. We got about as excited as teenage girls during the first showings of Titanic every time there was B-roll of some of the stadiums we'll be seeing World Cup games. The movie quoted Ellis Park stadium, where we'll be watching some games, as holding 63,000 people. That's going to be ridiculous. In the best possible way. The airline was also kind enough to include high red socks in our transatlantic flight kit along with the requisite toothbrush and sleep mask. We will be fashioning these as "shooting sleeves," which, for the World Cup will obviously be worn on the calf rather than the arm sleeve favored by AI et al.

Invictus cut into our already limited sleep schedule and we ended up probably dozing for only 2-3 hours. Part of this deficit was due to the fact that we were seated in front of the loudest passengers on the flight who felt compelled to hold a discourse on very time-sensitive and mission critical questions such as 'is there a difference between celsius and centigrade' while the other 246 people on the plane had the good sense to be sleeping. Except for the two innocent bystanders (us) unlucky enough to be caught in earspace. Consequently, while I couldn't do basic math the next day I was so tired, I DO now know that guy on the left thinks there is a difference, guy on the right disagrees enough to punctuate his points by slamming his tray table into the back of my seat (thanks, guy) and the girl in the middle is adamantly neutral. Like Switzerland. Without the diplomatic usefulness or courage of conviction.

May 26 - Day 1, London

We arrived in London at 7am local time, giving us a 13 hour layover before our second redeye flight in as many nights. A quick rundown of activities of the day:
-discovered transportation in London is very very expensive. Almost 8 pounds for an all day metro? Unreal. Good thing we really got our money's worth and used it only twice.
-Additionally, you can't take the metro from the airport into town (advantage: DC) and so had to buy another (very expensive) ticket to get in to and out of the city.
-the circle line does not, in fact, operate in a closed loop circle.
-There's not a lot to see of the Tower of London from the outside.
-the Tower Bridge is sweet. And Carolina blue.
-the "fish" in fish n chips is large. Real large.
-the British criminals charge you exorbitant fees for visiting churches. See: Cathedral, St. Paul's and Abbey, Westminster.
-What exactly are the Horse Guards guarding? Their own parade field?
-Buckingham Palace is more impressive from far away than from close up. We're not sure why. The gates are sweet too.
-Parliament is nice to look at.
-Warm British beer isn't actually that warm (thank goodness)
-consensus on London from our party: to paraphrase a great, it is possible to be neither over- nor underwhelmed, just whelmed? We think you can in Europe.

We got back in plenty of time to catch our flight to Nairobi. We did have some interesting interactions with Kenyan Airlines personnel over the issue of whether they should send Brian's checked bag to Nairobi or not. Because keeping it in London seemed to make sense too....? Oh, British people.

In conclusion, a few reasons why London is a lot like Disneyland:
-it's very expensive. You knew this going in and had been warned multiple times. And yet, you still thought you or your friends must be mis-remembering. Surely they can't seriously charge such ridiculous fees. Yes, yes they can. And will. And did.
-normal conventions of naming are suspended - streets are named Broken Wharf Lane ("hey, we could fix the wharf, or....OR we could just leave it and use it as a landmark for the purposes of street naming"), bars are named "the whale and the carpenter" (actually, i want to know the story behind that one) and airport gate numbers appear in the following sequence: 10, 15, 12, 11, 14. I had always thought that the purpose of naming gates by cardinal number is that they would then appear in the order of cardinal numbers. But clearly that is too simple. Instead of putting the numbers in order, let's flippin' mix 'em up! I mean, if they're not going to be in order, why not just name the gates after your favorite tree saplings? Then they'd at least just be not in an order as opposed to being very decidedly out of order. Maple, oak, longleaf pine makes a lot more sense than 10, 15, 12, 11, 14. Just saying saying.
-people talk in funny voices.

Coincidence? I think not.

Preview to Day 2: giraffes, rock climbing, trail blazing.

Leeeeeeeaving. On a jet plane.

2010-05-25T11:03:00.001-07:00

Well team --

This is it: our bags are packed, my cell phone service has been suspendedand everything I owe is sitting in a 5x5' storage unit on New York Ave in Northeast. Pretty soon we're going to take the last few things over there and then drop the car back at Brian's parents where someone will take us to the airport and we will get on a plane. Ultimate destination: AFRICA. I think it's all starting to become very very real at this point and with all the errands out of the way, we're actually allowing ourselves to get excited.

While I'm not an overly sentimental person, I am human and it's strange to think the DC chapter in my life is closing. It's hard to believe I'm not going to spend another night on Belmont St again, that my time riding the 50 and 70 series buses up and down 14th St and Georgia Ave with all kinds of colorful characters is over, and that I'm not going back to work at Walter Reed (at least for the next four years!). But I guess that's all part of this "growing up" and "finding your life goals" process that I'm engaged in.

We'll full of Five Guys (what better American food to leave on? I'm pretty sure the Founding Fathers ate Five Guys. In fact, Five Guys might be named after the Founding Fathers. Pretty sure it is) and ready to go!

Hopefully we'll be able to keep you updated from our travels!

First stop: London. Hoooooooooooray warm beer!

The Plan

2010-05-21T15:14:00.000-07:00

Because my mom asked. Probably so that she can freak out if there's a natural disaster, Somali pirate activity, or any other worrisome event within 500 miles of our location throughout the seven weeks we're abroad. (P.S. I love you, Ma). Also this brings up another point: I'm sharing this blog with my parents, so it should be relatively tame (as tame as sbaaaaafrica can be?), so feel free to share with anyone else who might be interested (or who is bored as work. Which is probably the more likely of the two).

Our itinerary:

May 25th -- Overnight flight from DC to London. We have ~12 hour layover in London, so we're hoping to be able to get out into the city, see 1.5 sights, drink half a warm beer, and make it back in time for our next flight.

May 26th -- Overnight flight to Nairobi, Kenya. Brian's friend Eric is being generous enough to pick us up from the airport and take us to the camp where he works. Where apparently we're going to be able to camp and rock climb. I've never been rock climbing before, so I'm very excited. Also, who goes rock climbing for the first time ever in Kenya? This kid. Hopefully two red eye flights don't make me a safety hazard.

May 27th-June 15th -- We'll be splitting our time between Nairobi and Kampala, Uganda. This part of the trip is the most sketchy plan-wise, so it's good that we're doing it first? In Nairobi, other than hanging out with Eric when he's able, we don't have any certain plans in place, so it looks like we'll just see what the winds take us to. We'll be working with the Missionaries of the Poor in Kampala June 6th-12th, and then hanging out/throwing down with my buddy Stu that weekend when he gets back from his brief assignment in Madagascar (a couple month contract with the UN or something crazy like that. He's kinda a big deal). I'm extremely excited for both of those two Ugandan experiences and anticipate that they will be completely and utterly diametrically opposed in nature.

June 15-June 24 -- Johannesburg. We fly to Johannesburg out of Nairobi (and via Addis Ababa. Insane, I know) on the 15th. We have a few games pretty close together in Joburg, so it should be an intense (and awesome), soccer-filled 10 days:
-Argentina v Korea: 17 June -- we're meeting Manuel, my undergrad thesis adviser for beers "before, during, and after" this game [his words, not mine] and I think it'll be pretty insane to see him in a foreign country. At a World Cup game. In Africa. Plus if you know anything about soccer, you know that Messi is unbelievable so we're excited to see him play.
-Slovenia v. USA: 18 June -- USA! USA! My mom also got us US jerseys to sport (not matching, don't worry), so we'll look pretty swell. I'm hoping to talk Brian into face painting as well.
- Brazil v Cote d'Ivoire: 20 June -- from the perspective of a soccer player, I think there is going to be no greater joy than watching the greatest soccer players in Brazil play the beautiful game. It's going to be sight to behold. I absolutely can not wait.
-Ghana v Germany: 23 June -- should be another great game. And we have good seats for this one. My sister Kelly will be in Germany for the summer, so I'm hoping she'll be able to sit in a bar in Munich and point out her sister on the TV to the Germans she knows.

We then take an overnight bus to Port Elizabeth (on the southern coast of South Africa) for a Round of 16 game (June 26). That's the first round after group play, so obviously we don't know who will be playing. But I'm pretty sure an elimination game in the World Cup can only be spectacular.

We then take an overnight bus back to Joburg as we have another Round of 16 game there on June 28 (yes, we have great lives). Then ANOTHER overnight bus back to Port Elizabeth for our quarterfinal game on July 2nd. I can't even put into words what I anticipate these experiences to be like.

July 4th-9th: We'll take yet another overnight bus (seeing a trend yet?) to Cape Town, where we don't have any games, but is a place we didn't want to miss out on. Other than taking in the World Cup fever some more, I'm hoping to catch the sight of some South African penguins. (Not a myth, google that ish. Insane. -ly awesome.)

July 9th: We then head back to Joburg where we stay until flying back to DC on the 13th. That will be the weekend of the final, so the city should be an incredibly fun place to be. We'll be staying at the same hostel we have for our first couple of visits in Joburg, so hopefully we'll be old hats at having a great time by that point in the trip.

July 14th: We arrive back at Dulles where I anticipate I will sleep for about 20 hours straight. Yes, at Dulles.

Although we've now been planning this trip for a couple of months, it's finally becoming real. (For real real, not for play play as we say back in the motherland) We made some international wire transfers today to pay for our bus tickets and picked up our malaria prophalaxis from the pharmacy. For some reason, those two things really drove it home that we're going. to. Africa.

This weekend will be spent packing, moving out of my DC house (and into a storage unit), buying a lot of sunscreen, and trying to soak up the last few days of DC chillin'.

Stay tuned.

-S

Introduction

2010-05-21T15:09:00.000-07:00

[With apologies to those who already received my email. You can skip ahead to the next entry whenever it appears. Do not pass Go, but feel free to collect $200]

Dearest family and friends --

As some of you may or may not know, I'm leaving for seven weeks in Africa next Tuesday (yes, in four days). My boyfriend Brian and I will be traveling to Kenya, Uganda, and South Africa. In Kenya, we'll be visiting Brian's college roommate who is living there; in Uganda, we'll be working with Missionaries of the Poor for a week and visiting my buddy Stu from college who lives in Kampala; and in South Africa we'll be going to the WORLD CUP (and meeting my undergrad thesis adviser for an Argentina game in Johannesburg). The idea kinda came out of nowhere back in January when we both decided to quit our jobs and travel for the summer and became much more concrete when we realized we were both serious. Needless to say, we're very excited. At this point, I'm just hoping to make it to our airplane without being kidnapped by my older brother and hidden in the crawl space beneath our house so that I will be unable to travel to the third world (actual threat. My father's response? "Yeah, I'd be okay with that.")

Anyways, we'll be keeping a blog while we're gone (as much as possible -- unclear what kind of internet access we'll have, but I'm hoping to be able to write "still alive" at least once a week. Mainly for my parents' sanity) and I thought I'd pass it along: sbafrica.blogspot.com, "Sharon and Brian Go to AFRICA". [You might note that typical rules of etiquette and humility would demand that I name our literary masterpiece "Brian and Sharon..." but that lends itself to a rather unfortunate abbreviation so I dispensed with tradition for that reason. That and "sbafrica" sounds like a word that could really catch on. Brian is also getting quite annoyed with my singing of "Sbaaaaaafrica," a la Toto in 1982, every 15 minutes]

Hopefully this blog will be filled with our many adventures and misadventures. If we find ourselves faced with complete internet fail, I promise to update it at least briefly (and probably with pictures!) when we return.

For those of you who I really haven't talked to in a while, I'll be going to medical school in August at Johns Hopkins in Baltimore, so if you're in the area in the next four years, definitely holler!

[Princeton friends: this sadly means I will be missing this year's festivities. Don't even say the r-word around me, I can't bear the pain. Have fun for me and see you at homecoming in the fall. And apologies to Integrated Science kids who might be getting this twice....]

Hope all is well with you and yours,

-Sharon