Kenya week 2 -June 12, 2006
Misawa (hi) again!
So a true sign of being accepted into a village is having the youngest baby at our homestead fall asleep in my arms. Even the baby has gotten used to a strange, white, redheaded person in his village! Erastus (called 'Rastus)-who initially cried when he first saw me 7 days ago- fell asleep on my shoulder this morning while I was carrying him around, looking at the cows and chickens. It was so sweet and I now have 2-month-old drool all over my last clean t-shirt....
Lwala is quickly becoming my second home and I have to keep telling myself "you're in Africa!!" because everything is becoming normal and "not so new and different" to me. I am now used to showering with one bucket of water and a cup. I am used to having beans at every meal. I am used to the Lwalan greetings (these great hand slaps that even the 2 year olds partake in) and have even learned how to make chapati- a bread cooked in a circle, kind of like a delicious tortilla. I am even becoming accustomed to the extreme poverty that is prevalent in this community- poverty that can be seen in the distended bellies of children, the lack of books and chairs in the local primary school, and in the rotting teeth of elderly women who have lived 75 years without a toothbrush or toothpaste. I guess I'm learning to live with it- this strange sort of habituation that humans tend to do. It doesn't make me any less sad and angry every time I see it, though. The poverty in Lwala and the surrounding areas is unreal and has made me cry -after having seen a woman with 3 small children sitting on the street, blind and thin as a rail, children covered in flies, I will never be the same. There's this strange juxtaposition in Kenya of an unbelievably beautiful countryside, gorgeous smiling faces, bright fabrics wrapped around lean, tall bodies... and then this rampant disease and poverty that exists within it all.
I am comforted by the family and children I have grown to love… their positive, cheerful, humble and life-loving outlook on life is incredibly inspiring. The kids near the homestead (Harrison, my buddy, Toby, Apiyo, Onyango, Olga, Dada) have grown surprisingly protective of me. At night when we're walking down the streets of the village, random children will run up to me, call me by my name and hold my hands so I don't trip on rocks or mud in the dark.. in fact I hardly walk anywhere in the village with at least 2 children holding my hands and chatting with me, trying to teach me Dholuo (the name of their language). Harrison asked me for a hair tie the other day- not because he wanted to fix his hair (he doesn't have any), but because he wanted to wear one on his right wrist like I do. how cute??
We started the health surveys on Wednesday and it has been great! Each day 7 surveyors walk around a village (one village each day… some days we walk over 2 hours to get to a certain village) and go from hut to hut, searching for babies under 2 years old. Our survey is looking at child health and immunization records, nutrition, sanitation practices, water issues, and HIV/AIDS attitudes. We interview the mothers, some of which are as young as 14. It has been so interesting to go into the homes of these women, weigh their tiny babies (my favorite part), and literally ask them questions like "how can a person protect themselves from HIV/AIDS?" and "during the past two weeks, has your baby experienced any of the following: vomiting, high fever, diarrhea, shortness of breath, malaria, blood in the stool, and convulsions?" You'd be surprised how many mothers say their kids have had convulsions and blood in their stool- both of which are NOT good. I am also learning how many of the children are not vaccinated in this area. It is so sad, little babies are not getting the health care they need- my heart goes out to them and it makes me want so badly to get our clinic running so we can vaccinate and treat these kids. (something that I don't feel like I'm lacking in Kenya is purpose...it's great)
The most wrenching moment I've had this past week was during one of our interviews for the survey. We went to the home of this tiny, TINY baby, who I thought was a few days old (maybe a week). His skin was a lot lighter than other people here and appeared kind of yellow, and when I learned he was 7 weeks old I couldn't believe it. He was almost 2 months old and should have been a lot bigger. Apparently this baby's mother was 14 when she gave birth to him (she wasn't married... probably raped) and had serious complications during labor. She was moaning outside, laying on the ground and had been like this for the past 2 months. The baby had been drinking cow's milk since birth because the mom was too sick to nurse him- probably why he appeared so incredibly malnourished. The mother/ grandmother began to cry when I walked in the door of their hut because they thought I was a doctor, there to help them and give them medicine. They handed me this almost lifeless baby who didn't weigh more than 10 pounds, praying for me and thanking me over and over. I rocked the baby for about forty minutes while the translator interviewed the grandmother of the family, and explained to them that we could not give them medicine right now, but we would try to get them a doctor soon. The baby will not live for another month. the family doesn't have the money to get the proper health care needed for the child.. and the mother... a pattern I am seeing all too often. After the interview, I went outside the hut to the moaning, young mother, who was laying on a straw mat, head covered by a bright purple and yellow cloth. I kneeled at her side and she grabbed my hand, looking in my eyes for some sort of relief. I stroked her forehead, trying to calm her. We got a wet cloth and I sat with her for a few minutes. I felt so helpless when I left.... we're going to try to find help for her but I haven't met a single doctor or qualified nurse since I've been here.
On the brighter side, I really love it here. The countryside is so beautiful, very tropical and I love all the fresh fruit that we buy in the market and pick from trees (don't worry mom, I wash everything before I eat it!) I'm loving the mangoes, pineapples, guava, bananas, oranges, papayas, and avocados! The other night I was standing outside brushing my teeth, and Iooked up at this endless sky of stars... more stars than I've ever seen in my entire life, spanning from one horizon to the other. There were African drums in the distance and I could hear chanting and singing. It was one of those moments were I was like, WOW, I really am in Africa and this kind of stuff really does happen. I also love seeing the women here carry these huge loads on their heads- buckets of water, bushels of bananas, sugar cane; you name it, they can balance it on their heads. They walk so gracefully when they do this, necks so straight and long, so poised, kind of like they're floating. The little kids can do it too which simply amazes me- aren't children supposed to be clumsy??
We're off to the market now...
Talk to you soon!
Oriti,
Love,
Abbie
So a true sign of being accepted into a village is having the youngest baby at our homestead fall asleep in my arms. Even the baby has gotten used to a strange, white, redheaded person in his village! Erastus (called 'Rastus)-who initially cried when he first saw me 7 days ago- fell asleep on my shoulder this morning while I was carrying him around, looking at the cows and chickens. It was so sweet and I now have 2-month-old drool all over my last clean t-shirt....
Lwala is quickly becoming my second home and I have to keep telling myself "you're in Africa!!" because everything is becoming normal and "not so new and different" to me. I am now used to showering with one bucket of water and a cup. I am used to having beans at every meal. I am used to the Lwalan greetings (these great hand slaps that even the 2 year olds partake in) and have even learned how to make chapati- a bread cooked in a circle, kind of like a delicious tortilla. I am even becoming accustomed to the extreme poverty that is prevalent in this community- poverty that can be seen in the distended bellies of children, the lack of books and chairs in the local primary school, and in the rotting teeth of elderly women who have lived 75 years without a toothbrush or toothpaste. I guess I'm learning to live with it- this strange sort of habituation that humans tend to do. It doesn't make me any less sad and angry every time I see it, though. The poverty in Lwala and the surrounding areas is unreal and has made me cry -after having seen a woman with 3 small children sitting on the street, blind and thin as a rail, children covered in flies, I will never be the same. There's this strange juxtaposition in Kenya of an unbelievably beautiful countryside, gorgeous smiling faces, bright fabrics wrapped around lean, tall bodies... and then this rampant disease and poverty that exists within it all.
I am comforted by the family and children I have grown to love… their positive, cheerful, humble and life-loving outlook on life is incredibly inspiring. The kids near the homestead (Harrison, my buddy, Toby, Apiyo, Onyango, Olga, Dada) have grown surprisingly protective of me. At night when we're walking down the streets of the village, random children will run up to me, call me by my name and hold my hands so I don't trip on rocks or mud in the dark.. in fact I hardly walk anywhere in the village with at least 2 children holding my hands and chatting with me, trying to teach me Dholuo (the name of their language). Harrison asked me for a hair tie the other day- not because he wanted to fix his hair (he doesn't have any), but because he wanted to wear one on his right wrist like I do. how cute??
We started the health surveys on Wednesday and it has been great! Each day 7 surveyors walk around a village (one village each day… some days we walk over 2 hours to get to a certain village) and go from hut to hut, searching for babies under 2 years old. Our survey is looking at child health and immunization records, nutrition, sanitation practices, water issues, and HIV/AIDS attitudes. We interview the mothers, some of which are as young as 14. It has been so interesting to go into the homes of these women, weigh their tiny babies (my favorite part), and literally ask them questions like "how can a person protect themselves from HIV/AIDS?" and "during the past two weeks, has your baby experienced any of the following: vomiting, high fever, diarrhea, shortness of breath, malaria, blood in the stool, and convulsions?" You'd be surprised how many mothers say their kids have had convulsions and blood in their stool- both of which are NOT good. I am also learning how many of the children are not vaccinated in this area. It is so sad, little babies are not getting the health care they need- my heart goes out to them and it makes me want so badly to get our clinic running so we can vaccinate and treat these kids. (something that I don't feel like I'm lacking in Kenya is purpose...it's great)
The most wrenching moment I've had this past week was during one of our interviews for the survey. We went to the home of this tiny, TINY baby, who I thought was a few days old (maybe a week). His skin was a lot lighter than other people here and appeared kind of yellow, and when I learned he was 7 weeks old I couldn't believe it. He was almost 2 months old and should have been a lot bigger. Apparently this baby's mother was 14 when she gave birth to him (she wasn't married... probably raped) and had serious complications during labor. She was moaning outside, laying on the ground and had been like this for the past 2 months. The baby had been drinking cow's milk since birth because the mom was too sick to nurse him- probably why he appeared so incredibly malnourished. The mother/ grandmother began to cry when I walked in the door of their hut because they thought I was a doctor, there to help them and give them medicine. They handed me this almost lifeless baby who didn't weigh more than 10 pounds, praying for me and thanking me over and over. I rocked the baby for about forty minutes while the translator interviewed the grandmother of the family, and explained to them that we could not give them medicine right now, but we would try to get them a doctor soon. The baby will not live for another month. the family doesn't have the money to get the proper health care needed for the child.. and the mother... a pattern I am seeing all too often. After the interview, I went outside the hut to the moaning, young mother, who was laying on a straw mat, head covered by a bright purple and yellow cloth. I kneeled at her side and she grabbed my hand, looking in my eyes for some sort of relief. I stroked her forehead, trying to calm her. We got a wet cloth and I sat with her for a few minutes. I felt so helpless when I left.... we're going to try to find help for her but I haven't met a single doctor or qualified nurse since I've been here.
On the brighter side, I really love it here. The countryside is so beautiful, very tropical and I love all the fresh fruit that we buy in the market and pick from trees (don't worry mom, I wash everything before I eat it!) I'm loving the mangoes, pineapples, guava, bananas, oranges, papayas, and avocados! The other night I was standing outside brushing my teeth, and Iooked up at this endless sky of stars... more stars than I've ever seen in my entire life, spanning from one horizon to the other. There were African drums in the distance and I could hear chanting and singing. It was one of those moments were I was like, WOW, I really am in Africa and this kind of stuff really does happen. I also love seeing the women here carry these huge loads on their heads- buckets of water, bushels of bananas, sugar cane; you name it, they can balance it on their heads. They walk so gracefully when they do this, necks so straight and long, so poised, kind of like they're floating. The little kids can do it too which simply amazes me- aren't children supposed to be clumsy??
We're off to the market now...
Talk to you soon!
Oriti,
Love,
Abbie
posted by abbie at 11:30 AM
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