Coming Home

After finally getting a chance to sit down and think about my wonderful, amazing, and challenging summer in Kenya, I felt the need to compose a post surrounding my departure from this beloved country. As many (and hopefully, all of you) know by now, the Jomo Kenyatta International Airport (JKIA) in Nairobi caught fire the morning of Alyssa and I's departure. I made sure to keep friends and family update via social media on our whereabouts and the most important thing, WE WERE SAFE. I'll run through the events chronologically and hopefully provide a better picture of everything we went through just to get out of Africa.

My phone rang at 8 AM. It was Avril Orwa, Mervines cousin. I blinked a few times as I tried to comprehend why she was calling me. Maybe she wanted to say good bye?
"Hello?" I sputtered into phone.
"Hi Hilary, this is Avie."
"Hi Avie, how are you?"
"I'm good. Hey, the Nairobi airport caught fire this morning so you might want to call your travel agent and see what the deal is with your flight."
I scrunched my face and replied, "Uh...what?!"
She repeated what she had just said and I asked if this was a joke. No joke. Apparently, the airport really was on fire. I was shocked and couldn't really believe it.

At the time, Alyssa and I were staying at a comfy and cozy hotel on the coast of Malindi, a town about 2 hours north of Mombasa. I was stunned. I thanked Avie, hung up the phone and thought "Well, I better go get Alyssa."

I found her sitting in the lounge area, checking her mail. I made my way to sit across from her, looked straight into her face and said, "The Nairobi airport is on fire, Avie just called me. We need to call Brussels Airlines." As imagined, she gave me this "you've got to be kidding me" look and said what I had said to Avie, "WHAT?!"

Instead of spending out last day relaxing on the beach we were consumed with Google-ing the airport fire, calling our airlines to try and get out of Kenya and basically freaking out. No one knew what had happened to cause this fire, some were speculating it was terrorists. It was also the 15th Anniversary or the US Embassy bombing in Nairobi. After hours on the phone, a representative from Brussels Airlines finally called me back and said that a flight from Mombasa to Entebbe, Uganda was leaving at 3:20 PM. If we could make that flight, she said, we could get on an international flight to Brussels that evening, and then eventually home.

GREAT! We thought. Then we realized it was 12 PM. We quickly gathered our things (and by gathered I literally mean stuffing everything I had in my bag as quickly as I could.) Our hotel called us a private driver and we took off around 12:30 PM. Thankfully there wasn't much traffic but it didn't matter, by the time we arrived at the airport we were told the flight was completely full. We were not getting to Entebbe today. As Alyssa and I slumped down in our chairs, we felt out of options. "Well, now what??" we both asked aloud. As we sat there, we figured it was a good idea to let people back home know we were fine. Especially since I had witnessed this fire making front page of the NY Times, CNN.com and other news sites.

Originally we were supposed to fly from Mombasa to Nairobi that evening on Fly540 and then catch our international flight from Nairobi. Now we didn't even have a way to get to Nairobi....or so we thought.

After about 30-45 minutes in the airport, we decided we needed a game plan. We could go get a hotel for the night or I could call Wilson, Mervine's uncle, and see if we could stay with him. The second option won and Wilson could not have been more welcoming and hospitable. We arrived at his house and his wife Deliah made us fresh avocado juice. As we were sitting outside, chatting, my phone rang.

"Miss Hilsabeck?"
"Yes?"
"This is ______ from fly 540. The flight to Nairobi is going tonight."
I was so confused.
"Um Ma'am, how is that possible?"
'They opened up the domestic terminal. Would you still like to take the flight?"
I told her not to cancel our seats yet and I would call her back.

Meanwhile, Alyssa had a BRILLIANT idea, that literally saved us tons more hassel in the long run. She called Brussels Airlines and asked if they would pay for accomodations in Nairobi since we would be stuck there for the night. They happily obliged. After just 30 minutes of sitting at Wilson's, we were headed back to the airport.

We made it to Nairobi safe and sound and had our cab driver, Duncan, pick us up and take us to Hotel Emerald. Duncan was recommended by our friend Pete who had used him numerous times before. After checking in, we received a letter that Brussels Airlines would be meeting with us in the morning. We walked across the street, got some food, and passed out in our luxurious hotel.

The next morning, Friday, at 10 AM the manager of Brussels came to our hotel to let us and about 7 other people know that we would not be flying out today but by 1 PM he would know if we were flying out of Nairobi the next day or if we had to go to Entebbe, Uganda. We regrouped at 4 PM to hear the verdict. Unfortunately, we had to go to Entebbe. It was because the JKIA airport had set up "temporary terminals" out of tents and these terminals could not host all the 747 and huge aircrafts that were expected to be there. Only a few airlines, including Kenya Airways, were flying out of Nairobi. Therefore, the plan was to take a 15 hour bus ride to Entebbe the next morning. Then the passengers who were supposed to land it Nairobi but instead were re-routed to Entebbe would take the busses back to Nairobi.

The bus ride was pretty uneventful until the Ugandan border when Brussels Airlines staff tried to keep everyone's passport until the airport. I put a stop to that by kindly asking for mine back and then the lady just decided to hand them all out. I was not about to get all the way to Entebbe just to have my passport lost or stolen. We arrived around 3 AM, breezed through security and hopped on the plane. It was full. Most passengers were from Kenya.

8 hours later we landed in Brussels. At this time, Alyssa and I still didn't have a connecting flight as everything had been screwed up so when we departed the plane, we were instructed to go to the Brussels Airlines desk to ask about connections. I had been very easy going and patient with Brussels Airlines, after all this wasn't there fault, until now. When Alyssa and I got to the counter, we were handed different boarding passes. Her's was leaving that day (Saturday) and mine wasn't leaving until 10 AM the next morning. We were surprised/confused and honestly a little ticked off. Why would they split us up? We tried for the next hour to get seats on the same flight but no luck. She was off to Amsterdam and I would be in Brussels for the next 18+ hours. After hugging her/holding back tears, I made my way to the free shuttle outside the airport. Brussels had arranged for overnight passengers to stay in a Holiday Inn not far from the airport.

After checking into my room, I decided to spend the next 12 hours exploring Brussels! Except I forgot to tell my bank that...I made me way into the city only to realize my debit card didn't work. I returned to the hotel, called my mom and asked her to call the bank to let them know I was in Brussels and to open my card. After that fiasco, I went BACK to the middle of town and ate the best waffle of my life- cinnamon and sugar, with chocolate sauce and whipped cream. I also had to taste the Belgium beer...
By dusk I took the train back to my hotel and headed to bed. Tomorrow I would finally, hopefully, be coming home.

I'll never forget my reaction when I walked into the Newark, New Jersery airport and saw a huge sign that read, "Welcome to the United States of America." I started screaming and jumping! Followed by a lot of confused looks from the people behind me. I was so happy the customs guard asked if I was alright. I was never more thankful to be home...well, almost. I arrived in Minneapolis later that day to my wonderful boyfriend holding a huge sign with my name and messages from all my friends and family. I was so excited to be home I couldn't decide what I wanted to do first, but showering was definitely in order. It had been...awhile.

As I stepped into my nice, hot, running water shower I thought about how this was my normal now. I wouldn't have to worry about having clean water to wash my hands or my hair each day. I could brush my teeth with the running water from my sink. My car was 10 feet away from me if I needed to run to the grocery store or go meet friends. I was happy to be home, but part of me missed my Kenyan experiences. In the next few weeks I found myself missing the ability to purchase bananas on the side of the road or hop on a piki for a taxi ride. I missed the simplicity of life there and was thankful to have Ali and Alyssa in the same city for debriefing time.

I've been keeping in touch with the Kenya Red Cross ever since I left and am happy to report they continue to use the soccer equipment to hold tournaments every month. They have also organized a Kenya Red Cross soccer team to represent the Red Cross at tournaments around Western Kenya. I am so thrilled to see this project continue to grow and am looking forward to getting back to Kenya next fall or winter to check on the progress and visit my dear friends there.

Massai Mara

One of the highlights of this adventure was the safari in Massai Mara National Reserve, a large game reserve in Kenya and borders the Serengeti in Tanzania. It was named in honor of the Massai people, one of Kenya's 40 tribes that make up about 2% of the population. We were told it was a good time to go due to the wildebeest migration...and there were THOUSANDS of wildebeest. And a few dead ones, which lions were feeding on. I have over 200 pictures but I'll give you a sneak peek of what we saw. Apparently along with migration season, it was baby season in the Mara as all the animals we saw also had young ones in tow. A few more details: we went for 3 days, stayed overnight at a tourist camp with tents and running water and they also provided food for us. It was a great experience and I definitely want to go back.

Zebras sneaking a fast drink due to crocodiles lurking in the water. 

The beautiful, breathtaking sunrise in the Mara- reminded me of the Lion King!

Lioness and her cub feast on their recent kill- a wildebeest

A lioness plans her attack on the heard of wildebeest in the distance

Lion cub! They were so adorable

Mom and her cubs

King of the Mara- and 10 feet from us!

Antelope

Cheetah's resting after a feast

Wildebeest

Nairobi/Mombasa

I know a lot of you are/were waiting on another post from me so, sadly, this is going to be one of my last ones from Kenya. I plan on writing a reflective post when I return to the US, or in the airport if I get bored. After an amazing dinner with Dr. Amin, Dr. Jamila (his wife), Mark, Maurine, Philip, and Even, Alyssa and I packed our bags and headed to Nairobi on Saturday, July 27th. We stayed at an adorable bed and breakfast just outside of downtown. It had a rooftop bar/restaurant with incredible views of the city. And of course, I forgot to take a picture. I will let the pictures below tell most of the story of our time in Nairobi but I definitely have a new found appreciation for the city. It's infamously labeled "Nai-robbery," but we had zero troubles and always kept our belongings close to us.

Alyssa and I at "The Java House," a coffee shop in Nairobi that sells real Kenyan coffee (i.e. not instant coffee). It was delicious and we went back at least four more times. 

Downtown Nairobi

On top of the KICC (Kenya International Conference Center) tower overlooking Nairobi. The building behind me is the tallest in the city. 

From another side of the tower. Behind me is Uhuru Park.

Avril and I attempting a jumping picture. Avril is Mervine's cousin and she met me on Monday to show me around the city, hang out and eat pizza! It's the first time I had pizza in 8 weeks and it was delicious. She's studying in Sweden but was back in Nairobi for her summer break.  

Ngeri, Me, Liz and Avril. Ngeri and Liz are cousins and friends with Avril. I love these girls so much and had a great time with them. 

On Saturday morning we took a 45 minute flight from Nairobi to Mombasa. Mombasa is the 2nd largest city in Kenya with a population of about 1 million. Located on the East Coast of Kenya (on the Indian Ocean), it was an important trading center and has been controlled by many countries due to its prime location. More importantly, it's Mervine's childhood home. 

Fort Jesus, a UNESCO World Heritage Site. This fort was built in 1593 by the Portuguese and was taken over by the Arabs in the 1700s. Mombasa has a lot of Arab influence. 

On Sunday, I met up with Miriam (Mervine's cousin), her son, Ryan and the three girls from Nairobi (Liz, Ngeri and Avril). They showed me around the city of Mombasa, took me out for lunch and then I went over to Mervine's Uncle Wilson's and Aunt Deliah's house for dinner. It was such an amazing day, despite the rain. I'm so thrilled I got to meet them and spend time in their city!

The Tusks. A symbol of Mombasa that represent the entrance to the heart of the city. They were built to commerate Queen Elizabeth's vist to the city in 1952. Coinciedently, they spell a "M" for Mombasa. 

Ryan accidently broke one of his sandals after lunch so Avril carried him to the shoe store. 

Who I got to hang out with all day :) After the inital shock of a mzungu walking around with his family all day, he warmed up to me and wouldn't leave my side. 

The girls, Ryan and I on Mama Ngina drive. It runs along the coast and there are many street vendors selling food and trinkets. 

My mouth-watering, delicious lunch at Tamarind restauraunt. It sits right on the coast and serves up the most delicious seafood. I got the risotto with lobster, crab, praws, and octopus. Thanks again for the recommendation, Danish!

View of Mombasa from Tamarind. 

Currently, I am sitting at Driftwood Villas in Malindi (a town about 2 hours north of Mombasa). I am spending the next 2 days here, on the beach, before heading back to Mombasa, flying to Nairobi and then flying home. It's a bittersweet feeling as I feel like I could return to Bungoma after my vacation along the coast. I am excited to come home and see my family and friends but I will miss Kenya dearly.

On Poop

I don't even know how to start but I feel it is vital to write a post about this. It is an indispensible component of the Africa experience. You can not talk about your time in Africa without talking about this important bodily function. Those of you that know me, understand that I hate the word "poop" and talking about it. However, when you live in rural Kenya, it becomes a part of your daily vocabulary, especially when you and your mzungu friends are sick.

For example, diarrhea is a common part of the Kenya experience. No matter how hard you try to eat cleanly washed food and drink bottled water, you will inevitably eat or drink something that causes you to run to the bathroom. This was me last week. It got so bad that I couldn't even keep water in me for more than 5 minutes. I became concerned and called Alyssa to my hut so we could evaluate my stomach issues. She freaked out and thought I should go to the hospital. I just wanted to sleep and take more antibiotics. She finally told me that if I had one more liquid stool that night, she would drag me to the hospital. In her defense, I was probably getting super dehydrated. After finally being able to sit up in bed, I ate Uji, which is delicious Kenyan pooridge, rich in nutrients. It was the first substance that didn't go straight through me all day. I ran to Alyssa's hut and exclaimed, "My diarrhea is gone!" We celebrated by high fiving, screaming "Yayyy!" and then drinking more water.

The next day, our friend Pete had a similar experience and had to run to the bathroom during lunch. We made him go to Elgon View and get Cipro as we figured he had a bacterial infection as well. Alyssa also started feeling terrible on Friday so she, too, started the antibiotic regimen. Thus, the past week has been filled with phone calls, texts and face-to-face conversations of the consistency of our stools. When someone has diarrhea, we ask how frequent, what color, consistency, etc. When someone comes out of the bathroom and exclaims they had a solid passing, we jump for joy and give pats on the back. It's like we are potty training all over again, rewarding each other for making it to the bathroom in time or having a "normal" stool.

Thus, poop has become an essence of our experience here and have no qualms talking about it with one another. At the moment, we all woke up without diarrhea and are currently sitting at a coffee shop, not taking antibiotics. Hopefully this is the upward climb and we can look forward to more normal, solid stools and less poop talk. Although I am sure we will still be celebrating being "healthy" for the next two weeks here.

A Bad Day

Throughout my past year in public health school I studied maternal and infant deaths, what causes them, their rate and prevalence in countries such as Kenya and the United States. It was higher in Kenya with about 45 neonatal deaths per 1,000 live births. In the United States, it's 6. The number is also probably higher in Kenya as most women do not deliver in health care facilities and therefore, their infant deaths are not recorded. An intelligent professor of mine once said, "Statistics are people with tears washed away." I sat in class, took notes and had a heavy heart for such travesty in a developing nation, but last Thursday, I witnessed one of these statistics.

I woke up around 8 AM not feeling the best. As most of you know, I was diagnosed with a bacterial infection (food poisoning) on Wednesday so I figured I just needed to pop some antibitiotics. It was our last day visiting St. Damiano, a private, Catholic hospital on the edge of Bungoma. We were hoping to help out in the antenatal clinic and say good bye to the nurses who had been so kind to work with us. I took my first dose of Flagyl that morning and headed out with Alyssa around 9. By the time we arrived, I was feeling worse. I hadn't eaten anything and my stomach was in knots. Maurine met us there and asked if we wanted to go to the Theatre; i.e. operating room. She mentioned there was a cesarean section happening.

I immediately started to feel better at the thought of witnessing my favorite procedure: a birth. We dressed in OR scrubs and boots and eagerly headed towards the sound of the cauterizer. Just as we entered, the 2 doctors were removing the baby. They handed him off to another doctor who brought him over to the warmer bed. No crying. This was typical, I thought, with c-section babies and from what I had seen in the past. They neede some stimulation and a little foot tickle.

2 minutes later, still no crying. The doctor was rubbing the infant as if he was washing a t-shirt; vigorously and rapidly. Still no sound. Then out came the oxgen mask. I was starting to get worried. Then CPR. Then intubation. I couldn't watch. I suddenly felt weak and walked out to the room in between the OR and hallway. The only sound I could hear was the mother's vital monitor. Beep, Beep, Beep.

"I should be hearing a baby cry," I thought as I sunk down to the floor. Alyssa came out to check on me and looked confused, "How long do they have?" she asked. I just shook my head. As they kept working on the baby for about 10 minutes I kept praying for a cry, a wimper, some sort of life. I couldn't go back in the room.

Moments of working in the Mother/Baby Unit flashed through my mind. Ecuadorian maternity wards followed. In the 100 live births I had seen, all the babies had cried. All had been the miracle of life.

Finally, after almost 20 minutes, the doctor and Maurine walked out and took off their gloves. I could barely ask the question, "What's going on?" The doctor bowed his head and shook it back and forth, "He didn't make it." As heartbroken, sad and shocked as I was I wanted to know why. He explained that the mother experienced antepartum hemmorhage (bleeding due to the distachment of the placenta). She had delayed her arrival to the hospital and by the time they had her hooked up to a monitor, the baby's heartbeat was barely audible. They decided to perform an emergency c-section but it was too late, the baby had been without oxygen for too long.

As we stood up to leave, I felt sick to my stomach. I quickly disrobed and walked outside into the fresh air. I didn't make it 10 feet before I vomited. Alyssa quickly came to my side and I started crying. I couldn't belive what I had just witnessed. In all my years working and volunteering with delivering mothers, I had never seen a stillbirth. And it was because the woman couldn't get to the hospital on time. Because the roads are covered with potholes and uneven terrain. Because she didn't have the education that if you bleed during pregnancy you should immediately go to the emergency room. Because poverty, in its many forms, has claimed the lives of too many mother and children.

Phrases

 This week is my last week in Bungoma. I'm both equally happy and sad. Happy that I get to travel a little around Kenya, go on a safari and head to Mombasa and surrounding beaches. Sad that I am leaving some amazing people and organization that has taught me so much and nudged its way into my heart. Today, I became a Life Member of the Kenya Red Cross Bungoma Branch. It involves a donation of $50 and then you are connected to the Branch for life through emails, phone calls and other means of updates about the activites taking place here in Bungoma. You also become an important stakeholder and have more credibility when it comes to decision making and idea generation. I'm really excited for this opportunity as I want and hope to stay connected to the Branch when I return to the US and for years to come. They already told me they will be sending me updates on future tournaments with the soccer equipment!

One of the aspects I will miss the most about Bungoma (and Kenya in general) are the phrases I've heard throughout my 6 weeks here. Some are inside jokes (sorry) but others I will try to explain.

"Hey guys, we need to switch buses. This one is kind of like...breaking down" -Joshua
This was our guide in Jinja. I really can't even explain it more. It was just really funny to hear the "kind of like...breaking down" part.

4 toasted toast
Can't even write this without cracking up. One morning, Pete, Ali, Alyssa and I made our way to our favorite breakfast spot in town to order our usual: four waters, COLD and spanish omeletes. This particular morning was a struggle with the wait staff as we told them in English AND Swahili that we would like 4, cold waters. 5 minutes later they come out with four plates with butter sandwhiches.
What/How/Why/Really?!?! The best part is "toast" does not exist here. So "toast"=one slice of bread and butter and "toasted toast"="two pieces of bread with butter in between. Eat/Laugh your heart out.


"Hilary? Do you have a mosquito net? (Yes, Ali) Okay, I just want to make sure you don't get gingivitis"- Ali 
Just so everyone knows, you can't get gingivitis via mosquitos. Only malaria. But thanks for being concerned, Al-pal :)

"So you're telling me that if a mosquito gets near me and sees this he will just, walk away?"- Ken
Most of our Kenya friends are absolutely stunned at the fact we can PREVENT mosquitoes from biting us. One day at the Branch, our sassy friend and income generating activities officer, Ken, asked Alyssa for some bug spray. She only had her Benedryl stick so he grabbed it and started rubbing it on his arm. Before she could explain that that was NOT bug spray, he said the quote above.

Alyssa- "Guys, it was totally like domestic violence" 
Ross- "Umm pretty sure you have to be married for that"
On Ali's last night a few of us went to our favorite hangout, Sharif Center, to play some pool. Apparently there was a bit of a brawl going on outside between some guy and girl and the above conversation happened.

"Sure!"-Maurine
This one I am going to miss the most. Maurine is my best, girl friend here. She's in charge of the health sector at the Kenya Red Cross and the nurse that accompanies Alyssa and I on our hospital visits. She's also become a near and dear friend. I will miss her and her "Sure!" greatly.

The below phrases are said by numerous people so I will just try to explain their meaning.

"You've been lost": This means I haven't been around the Branch, hospital, Bungoma, restaurant, etc in awhile. They literally think you are "lost" until you return and then you are "found."

"It's okay": Hey Mark, is it okay if we deliver the certificates tomorrow? Mark- "It's okay"
                    I would like a Spanish Omelete. Do you have that? Waitress- "It's okay"
                  

The three Americans and Mark after the soccer tournament. I'm going to miss Mark and all of his "Mark-isms"

"How is you?!" EVERYONE. Children, piki drivers, women in their shops, people on the street, at restaurants, etc. I've tried to teach them it's "How ARE you?" but I'm pretty sure they just enjoy yelling at the mzungu.

Jinja

After that intense post, I thought I would lighten the mood and share my experience in Jinga, Uganda. Pete, a Fullbright Scholar living and teaching in Bungoma, Alyssa, Ali and I headed to Jinja two weekends ago to experience white water rafting down the Nile. IT WAS AWESOME. I'll give you a quick update on the weekend and then the pictures can explain themselves.

Jinja is about a 5 hour matatu ride from Bungoma town. We arrived there around 8 PM and got a taxi to the camp we were staying. It's called Raft Africa and they have a sweet set up. It's an enclosed compound with dormitory style rooms, NICE bathrooms with HOT water, restaurant, bar and office...all of which over looks the Nile River. Fun fact: the Nile's source is in Jinga and the river flows North to Egypt. Saturday morning we were taken to the spot where we would begin our adventure. After breakfast and the manager scaring us to death about getting trapped under the water, we got in the raft. Our guide was Joshua and probably one of the best (as we were told by a previous rafter). After practicing our paddling technique we actually flipped the raft over and he told was what to do if it happens in the rapids. Thank God because it happened twice. The first one was a class 4 rapid but there were two in a row. Our raft managed to stay upright during the first but during the 2nd, we were catapulted into the raging river. I felt like I was in a washing machine, underwater forever. When I resurfaced (yes, Mom I was wearing a lifejacket and helmet), I found myself under the raft and immediately freaked out (go figure). As I am trying to go under water and come out on the other side another rapid hits me in the face and I legit swallowed about a gallon of water. I resurface once again to find Ali by my side, screaming, "That was so awesome!!! Let's do it again!!!!" Meanwhile, I'm coughing my lungs out and gasping for air...a bit like I was dying. We get back in the raft and Pete is no where to be found. We look behind us and he is curled around the front of one of the kayaks in the fetal position. Moral of the story: we all survived and it was pretty exhilarating. The 2nd time we flipped is pictured below. It was more enjoyable as we were able to ride the rest of the rapid in the water, with our heads above, breathing. Enjoy the pictures! It was an absolutely amazing experience and I want to go back!!!!