What a weekend

I don't really know how to begin this post, as so much has happened in two days, so I'll just get right to it.

Saturday morning we had a school trip for a few hours. We traveled to Mathare [ma-thar-ay], the second biggest slum in Kenya. You can tell wazungu (white people) are coming from a mile away because of the shouts echoing through the streets. Walking through Mathare, kids pour out of their 10 by 10 tin homes just to greet us with shouts of "how are you! how are you!" They shriek in excitement when you reach down to hold their hand or give them a gota. (fist bump) At one point I took out my camera to take a picture of some of the kids that began to follow me through Mathare. After taking one picture, ALL of the kids wanted their pictures taken. "Na mimi?! Na mimi?!" (and me?! and me?!) they shouted. Most of them have never seen a picture of themselves before and they began to giggle uncontrollably when I turned my camera around to show them their pictures.

this beautiful little girl held my hand and walked with me through Mathare

(click for a larger view)

Even having spent a decent amount of time in Kenyan slums from my previous trips to Kenya, I still can't explain what it's like to walk through a slum. Words will never be enough to fully convey the absolute poverty that exists in a slum like Mathare. Mathare is on a hill and we fought against the mud and the rivers of water streaming down the hill as we walked uphill towards our destination. I turned to Milton, one of the Kenyans walking with us, to comment on how hard it must be for people to get around with all the rain water coming down the hill and the huge piles of mud. His response? It hasn't rained in three days. I then learned that when it rains, houses flood completely, people can't move around easily and sewage flows down the hill into to the paths of the Mathare residents. And the water that streams into houses isn't just rain water--it's a mixture of trash (as there is no trash system set up), feces, water and mud. Imagine that water filling up your one room tin shack as you and your 5 brothers and sisters are trying to sleep, eat or get ready for school in the morning.

a view from the top of the hill in Mathare

(click for a larger view)

another view of Mathare- a trash infested river

After making our way up the hill we moved on to learn about MYSA (Mathare Youth Sports Association), the most successful youth program in any slum in the world. What once started as a small soccer program, has expanded to an all-encompassing organization, including education, athletics, community health programs and more. MYSA has over 21,000 Kenyans registered in their soccer program alone. Their program attracts youth through sports and then exposes them to all the other resources they have to help them better themselves and encourage them to strive for excellence and success. One of the coolest programs they spoke about was a scholarship program for members of MYSA. Secondary aged students (high school age) in MYSA can volunteer with different MYSA organizations to gain points. The top students at the end of the year receive scholarships from MYSA to pay for their school fees. It was so encouraging to see a community-based organization that's really making a remarkable different in the lives of people all around Kenya.

a street performance outside MYSA

Leaving the slum, we walked to a local Mathare restaurant to grab a quick lunch. The owners were beyond shocked when a group of 26 whiteys walked into their small one room restaurant. After sufficiently taking over their place, we all ordered Kenyan dishes. Chapati (an amazing tortilla like food-- a "staple" of Kenya) beans and rice was my chosen dish that cost me all of 120 shillings (about 1 U.S. dollar)

Saturday night we decided to check out nightlife in Nairobi and made our way to Westlands, an area of Nairobi that attracts a lot of expats and "smart" Kenyans (at least that's what the online reviews say.We didn't want to stay out too late so we decided to be back by 1 am at the latest. I asked my host mom, who seems pretty hip, what time people start going out and she said around 8:30 and that it gets pretty busy at 9. We decided 9 would be a perfect time then to start our night. We all commented on how early this seemed, but just went with it, not questioning it too much. After our 30 minute taxi drive to Westlands (costing us about 7 dollars total...loving these Kenyan prices) our taxi driver stopped in the middle of the road and said (in broken English), "here we are..have a good night." Being the most outspoken one in our group I quickly replied, "That's great but please park and walk us in." (we had no clue where this bar was) Despite being annoyed, (or so it seemed from the bits of swahili I picked up in his murmurs) he agreed and walked us up to the door. As we stood outside he walked into the bar and then walked back out saying, "ok! have a good night!" I asked if there were people in there and he said, "Oh yes! Have fun!" and then waved and walked away. You can imagine how surprised we were then when we walked in to find that we were not just the only wazungu in the whole bar, but the only people at all in the whole bar, except for the hired staff.

Deciding to make the most of it, we sat down and ordered some drinks, enjoying the DJ's attempts to reach out to us with his choice of "western music" --black eyed peas, celine dion and the bee gees--quite the mix. Eventually things began to pick up and around 11 we decided to check out the club right across from the first bar. This club, black diamond, was packed. It was a mix of expats and Kenyans and seemed to be really fun atmosphere. We found the rest of our friends who had arrived before us and began to dance with them. Quickly, we became quite the spectacle, as any group of 20 foreigners dancing would be in a local club. People found us amusing I suppose-- every American song that came on (about 2 out of every 3 songs) caused us to FREAK out and get so happy and dance like crazy the entire song. At one point I decided to take a break from dancing and find the bathroom, which required me to leave the dance floor and walk through the club's outside patio to reach the choo (toilet). Life off the dance floor was SO interesting and hilarious to watch. I want to compare it to some movie or funny show I've seen but I really just can't compare it to anything familiar. As I made my way to the toilet, I passed European looking men putting the moves on women of all races. Most notable though were the 60 year old white men sharing "romantic" moments and drinks with Kenyan women who could not have been any older than me. Quite disturbing. I don't know what the men were trying to do, (well actually I have an idea) but I'm pretty sure the Kenyan women were either just looking for a sugar daddy or their green card...maybe both..

We stayed out until around 2...a little later than originally planned..and when we left, everyone in the club was still going strong. Apparently, Kenyans will stay out until 6 am or later. When I expressed how crazy I thought this was to one of my Kenyan friends she joked with me and said, "Well we go out before it gets dark to ensure getting to the club safely and then just stay until it gets light to make sure we will have a safe journey home." We all survived our first nightlife experience (told you I'd be safe mom and dad :) ) and had a blast. We only have a few weekends in Nairobi together and are already making plans for what else we all want to do together before going our separate ways for our ISPs.

Elsa, me and Anna with my friend Sam's homestay brother, Brian, and his friend, Kevin

So that was my Saturday. I was originally planning on talking about my entire weekend in this blog post but I feel like I've already written a book just talking about Saturday, so I'm going to save my story about Sunday until tomorrow.

Yesterday was quite the day, I promise it will quite the story, so keep posted. Just a little preview...my next blog post will include: getting lost in a village, pick pocketers and taking a dog to Nairobi via matatu.

Until next time--

Megan