As I write this I can barely keep my eyes open and I am lying in a puddle of my own sweat. It could be from the lack of sleep from taking the night bus to Mombasa from Nairobi. It is a rather bumpy 9 hour ride where I was struggling to keep the contents of my stomach and intestines intact (the bad water I drank is still working on me…at least I'm losing some of the weight I have gained from all those yummy chapati and mandazi?) for most of the trip. Or it could be the fact that Mombasa is hot as balls and all of my energy is being used to sweat out any liquid in my body (especially when I walked 30 minutes with my enormous duffle and backpack through alley ways to get to my new home). Yup. That combo could do it.

Regardless of how tired I am, I have no excuse to complain because I am basically living in the Ritz of tropical paradise. My house in Mombasa is bangarang. First of all, I live in a yellow house. How fricken cute is that. My room is purple (Libby I know you are jealous, it's pretty much the same color as your bedspread) and there are other rooms that are salmon colored. Super cute. I know. There is a house across the street that is lime green. Not only is my house cute when it comes to wall colors, my house has Marble floors, flushing toilets, running water, fridge, deep fryer (Fatma takes her fried foods seriously…I had fried chili potatoes for breakfast. Delicious. And so bad for me), washing machine (although it doesn't work I don't think…but still), my own room with two queen size beds to choose from, and a house girl. I hate to brag while a bunch of the other students in the program are living in the middle of nowhere Kenya (which also sounds pretty sweet) without water or electricity or families that speak English for that matter. It's all pretty surreal. Even though my house is really nice, we are surrounded by lean to shacks. I feel a little guilty living in such luxury while I know there are people living right beside me in squalor. I feel like I am in a whole new world I forgot existed. The food here is sooo flavorful (which is hugely different than back in Nairobi). I finally don't need to put a ton of chili sauce on everything I eat because all the food we eat has chili sauce already in it!!! But, just in case it isn't spicy enough…we make homemade chili sauce too. yessss. Being able to actually bathe in my own home was a wonderful but kind of bittersweet feeling. I know I am going to love it here, but I already miss my big, loud, crazy family back in Nairobi. Even though we had our issues, we were certainly a family, and I was a part of it. I'm not sure that my home in Mombasa will be the same. I get the feeling that the family doesn't spend much time together, and because we have a house girl, my responsibilities within the house seem to be few to none. I am excited to see this type of lifestyle in Kenya, but I'm glad I had the experience I did back in Nairobi. I might not get another "mom" out of my stay in Mombasa, but that is OK because I know I will always have one in Nairobi.

Coming to Mombasa feels like entering a whole new Kenya. Nairobi is feeling very cosmopolitan in comparison. Mombasa is a totally different kind of city. Living in Mombasa feels like living in a Middle Eastern city (not that I actually know what that is like, but I can assume). The Arab influence can be seen in all aspects of this city. The architecture is very distinct and there is a mosque on every corner. Laying in bed today I could hear the call to prayer from all around me. It was really really beautiful. There is something so soothing about the way it sounds. It's kind of eerie. All of a sudden, Mombasa shuts down, and everyone prays. It's totally different than anything I have ever experienced before. My host mother, Fatma, fully covers herself. She has a scarf that covers all of her face and hair but her eyes. Get this, they call it a ninja. I mean, I guess that is accurate because it kind of makes her look like a ninja. Everything else is kept covered by her long black robe that she puts on over her clothes. When she is in the house however, she removes these coverings. Even though it is really hot here, I think I need to go get some new clothes that cover me a bit more. I feel a little bit like a hussy here. Even though my clothes are still pretty decent, I'm going to be going to a lot of rural areas for work, so I need to be extra covered. I also need to remember how to eat with my right hand. Using your left hand to eat is considered really rude and disrespectful in Islamic culture. This has been rather tricky for me considering I'm a lefty. Fatma has been really understanding, but is constantly reprimanding me at the dinner table! I put a bunch of rings on my left hand to remind me not to use it. The matatus are pretty different here too. In Nairobi, everything was easy to get to because all of us lived so close to each other. Here. Not so much. Matatu workers suck and laugh at me and my bad use of Swahili. Oh well. So is life.

Me and another girl from the program got together today and went into town. We ended up at Fort Jesus (museum). We never ended up going inside because the people hanging around outside were equally if not more interesting to talk to. We sat and drank chai with a bunch of Somali refugees. There were just tons of men sitting around playing cards and chess and chewing khat (its this leaf that gets you all messed up). They were all acting rather goofy (drugs will do that to ya) so they had some interesting things to say. I also met a guy from Nakuru. His story was pretty sad. He had to flee after his house was burned and he watched people "cut up like chickens" in post election violence. It was pretty disturbing to hear his story so I'll spare the details.. He said he would never go back. And honestly, I don't blame him a bit.

It's weird that I am not going to see so many of the people I depended on support from throughout this experience for another 5 weeks, but I am so excited to start this new phase of the program. This is why I am here. I will finally be doing what I set out to accomplish, and that is thrilling and scary as hell. I got really lucky and since everyone has left/is afraid to come to Kenya, I get two internships with partner organizations. I will be working with the organization Society for Orphans and AIDS Network. I will be doing field surveys and documenting the stories of children and families affected by HIV/AIDS. They also want me to start a cross cultural exchange program with people in the US. My brain is on overdrive thinking of the connections that can be made. (Kathleen expect an email soon!) I will also be working with the Hope Maintainers to help them improve their garbage collection projects and youth leaderships programs. I'm hoping that I can get them to be a little more sustainable when it comes to their trash collection program. After working for both organizations and doing fieldwork for them I will be writing a small book which will be published about my findings which is pretty sweet. I'm sure I will become a workaholic as usual and that even though I am only expected to work 5 hours a day…I'm sure I will put in tons more time than that, which will be great experience.

Ok on a totally different note…I look back on my life before this program and have to laugh a little bit. Most people would think that coming to Kenya would be this huge adjustment, which in some ways it has been, but in other ways I think my life here is ten times more normal than my life at home. At elon I never had a set schedule, got zero sleep, and my life was basically in constant chaos. Here, things are so much more calm. Things get done when they need to. I know exactly when I am going to eat my meals. I go to bed at a decent hour and get up early. But then again, I am saying this after 2 months of being here, I guess I have adjusted well. My life here is very different than at home…here are a few fun examples:

-chili sauce goes on everything. I have decided no meal is complete without chili sauce. If my mouth isn't on fire, the meal cannot be considered a success

-half the fun of riding a matatu is how sketchy they are. I was riding in a matatu the other day we were blasting some reggae (ridiculously loud obviously) and the door basically fell of the vehicle. No big deal. Just keep driving. And then I basically jumped out of the vehicle when we got to where I needed to get dropped off, because the driver didn't really want to stop.

-I was at the rest stop for the bus to Mombasa and basically had to urinate into a little hole (this is pretty normal)…I accidentally peed on my feet a bit (this has happened to all of us, don't make that face). No worries. Thank god for wet wipes and hand sanitizer. What did Americans do before that stuff existed?

-as I alluded to earlier in this blog, my new host mom met me at the bus stop and we had to walk back to my new house. On the way home I'm pretty sure I stepped in a puddle of pee at one point. Good thing I have running water because I washed my feet the moment I got home! Oh. And then there were the random goat hooves in the middle of the alley too. No goat legs. Just hooves. Random. I know. May the little fella rest in peace. I'm sure he was a delicious meal for a very hungry family.

Alright. That is all for now.