My project starts a'rollin'

This week was my introductory week to the Roche community.  One of the things we are taught at school is that the key to a successful project in a community is engaging your stakeholders: the community members and leadership, directors of similar or complimentary programs, staff of program, and supporters.  Monday, I spent the day at Sota Health Clinic, which is the other local clinic that SHED and Dr. Kawira operate.  I wanted to get an idea of how a longer-running, more established clinic operates and begin building a relationship with Dr. Kawira and gain from her insight into the dynamics of rural clinics in East Africa.  Then, on Tuesday, I had my first meetings with the local Health and Education committees for Village Life.  These are made up of villagers who are interested in the work of VLOP and who are the worker bees and community promoters that ensure VLOP’s work is carried out and embraced by the community.  For the Health committee, I had four people show up: Ongora, Josphat, Tomas, and Rosie, who were very helpful in my shaping of the evaluation, insightful in providing me their original vision and goals for RHC (so I can complete my logic model, which they really like: shout out to my prof, Dr. Bavon, and my eval class), and most importantly supportive in suggesting that I go introduce myself and collect stories and data from the village council and the community meetings.  When is the meeting? I ask.  Their response: tomorrow.  WHAT?! When is the next meeting? I ask.  Their response: in three months.  Looks like I’m going to the meeting tomorrow…flexibility, flexibility, flexibility.  I’m not really nervous about the meeting, as much as anxious because I have NO IDEA what to expect.

So, I prepare my notes for the meeting, make sure that I know what I’m talking about, and catch up on all intentions and recent news of Village Life with regards to the health center and uji project.  I show up to the village council building (at 12:45 rather than noon as I was told because, well, in the words of Leo in Blood Diamond, This Is Africa).  On the drive, Rosie taught me some more Swahili, so as I am introduced to the Roche village chairman, Jackson, I introduce myself, where I’m from, and that I’m a student at Clinton School, ALL IN KISWAHILI! WOOP WOOP!  After my full intro in Swahili, Jackson acknowledges my impressive Swahili and then informs me that he speaks English well, and he is right, so the rest of the meeting needs no translator.  He is happy that I have come to him first, so that he is aware of my presence in his village and he pledges to help me set all interviews up so that I have no problems or road blocks.  Our meeting goes well, and he is very responsive to my project plans and ideas.  He does, however, inform me that he does not think I should go to the community meeting today, but that he will happily call a special meeting for me in a few weeks (Sounds great to me!).  So my last days before leaving for South Africa, I will be putting together my schedule for the next 8 weeks and my project plan to be submitted to Jackson and the village council.  Friday, I plan to start recording data from patient and health center records…and then on to survey development.

A little touch of America: Movie Night I

Due to Nando’s plea for something American, I brought 9 movies from home.  Everyone was excited to here this so we put together our first Movie Night!  Wednesday night, after dinner, we assembled with beers and cokes, popcorn (thanks to Esther), and my movies, all by candlelight.  I gave them all of their options and to my surprise James was able to rally everyone behind The Big Chill.  Now, this is one of my favorite movies, and I love to watch it when I’m away from home because it reminds me of all my great, close friends I have in the US, Arkansas, Little Rock, but it wouldn’t necessarily be my pick for first American movie in a few weeks of being in Africa.  However, all but the two of us have seen it, so I go with the group….it’s a total flop.  Although no one will admit that they didn’t like it, you can tell people are very disappointed.  Even James is like, “not as funny and uplifting as I remember the movie being.”  Luckily, the soundtrack is great, so people enjoyed that. 

I was not willing to let movie night be a total bust, so I turned it into a double feature with…yes, one of my favorite Disney movies: Finding Nemo!  Anta has never seen it, so the five of us who are left, salvage movie night and greatly enjoy Finding Nemo, Fanta, Sparletta (banana soda), and popcorn, all by candlelight.  Success!  Next movie night will include probably V for Vendetta and hopefully, the culmination of our African experience: The Lion King!

Monday Market Mayhem and our first birthday

Every Monday, farmers, merchants, and ranchers from all over the area come to Obuere (South Shirati) to sell anything and everything available in about a 60 km radius.  The area that normally is an empty courtyard and the makeshift soccer field on which I played on Saturday (when I was asked to referee and then was informed that I was obviously biased towards my friends’ team and didn’t know half the rules of soccer and so relieved of my duties) had become the scene of at least a thousand vendors crammed into wooden booths, sheets spread out to reserve space and herds and herds of animals.  Ranchers selling goats, cows, sheep, and donkeys for anywhere from 3000 Tsh/goat ($2) to 300,000 Tsh/cow ($200). Farmers selling rice, beans, cassava, pineapples (nanasi), passion fruit, avocados, maize, and fried goods that I have fallen in love with: kitumbua which is like a fried rice cake that tastes like fried rice pudding and some fried dough whose name I can’t for the life of me remember (migazi?).  Vendors selling anything from shoes to kitchen necessities to traditional cloths to various sundries.  And the clothes! Gobs and gobs of clothes!  We’re still not entirely sure, but I think the Salvation Army or other donation organizations in the US must distribute clothes (I’m guessing not for profit but selling at cost of shipping) to registered vendors who then sell them to the local area.  The t-shirts are from all over the US, whether a racing shirt from the Juvenile Diabetes 5K in Harrisburg, PA, a commemorative shirt from regional Scouting day in North Carolina, a Froot Loops t-shirt, or a Chicago Cubs jersey (I almost bought it, but it was torn).  I even found Power Ranger sheets just like the ones I grew up with and even more oddly, the same St. Jude t-shirt that all of us on the Up Til Dawn board were given for our fundraising efforts with St. Jude…over the next 8 weeks, I will be on the lookout for a shirt from Arkansas or LR.

Tonight, we celebrate one of our hostel-mates’ (Akeel) birthday.  It just so happens to also be one of Esther’s sons’ birthday and another son’s birthday tomorrow…so we celebrate!  Esther (Dr. Kawira) baked a “mahogany” cake, which is a frosting flag of dark brown (mocha), white (vanilla), and poopie brown (peanut butter), but unfortunately for me is all chocolate cake (I must admit that when I walked in and saw the cake and frosting on top, I thought…hmm, I’ve never seen a country’s flag be dark brown, white, then light brown; what an ugly flag! Haha).   To my delight, she also made popcorn and had ICY COLD cokes for all of us.  For the next hour I munched on salted popcorn (one of my vices) and Fanta chungwa (orange).  We also enjoyed the cello skills of Esther and guitar skills of James (as true, cliché Americans, we jammed out to Hootie-Hold My Hand, Oasis-Wonderwall, and of course Happy Birthday.

New experiences abound! (My first Mennonite church service among other novelties)

So, there’s something about being on a different continent, in a different country, possibly out of your comfort zone that makes you go crazy and try things that you either never have in the states or that you would never be able to back home.  For instance, I decided to buzz my head the day before I left for East Africa – anyone who knows me, knows that my hair has never been shorter than like 3 inches - it is now a 2 guard on a trimmer and on my flights in the US I had multiple people thank me for my service to our country…I was so caught off guard, I couldn’t even say anything.  I also had my first peanut butter and jelly sandwich the first day I was in Shirati.  Now my close friends and family know that as crazy and “un-American” as this sounds, it is true; I have never had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, just something about the combination and resulting texture has pushed me away.  Anyways, when the only options for lunch are bread, butter, red-plum jelly, peanut butter and banana, I figured I’d try it…I believe I was correct in my past 23 years of assumptions, but I can now say I’ve at least had one.

(Disclaimer: I apologize for the long post, but this was just too wonderful, exciting, and descriptive to not include all for my friends) So, on to my big experience.  James and I decided to attend Sunday church services at the Mennonite church across the road.  We were told it started at 7:30am, so forgetting that we were in fact in Africa, we showed up on time…us and 6 other people: the minister and assistant, sound guy, and 3 children (probably their own).  By 8:30 the church was filled, people cramming onto the benches that should fit about 8 comfortably but easily had 10.  There had to have been 700-800 people in the L-shaped church.  In front of us was the stage on which stood the offering chests, minister, his assistants, backed by a large silky white and pink drape.  The tables were covered with sheets of turquoise and lavender…it reminded me of either an Easter service, Foxfields at UVA, or a day on Nantucket with the Kennedys.  The service was similar to one in the states (I figure, as I have never been to a Mennonite church in the states or in fact to many other church services besides Friday night services at Temple, which are obviously very different), but one difference: dancing!  They call their dancing troupes “the choir,” as these groups not only dance but sing with pre-recorded background music coming from the electronic keyboard.  The dancing was amazing, I was in heaven, and taking down in my head every move they made.  The first dances were by a group of 12 young girls, who did the dance as if it were like riding a bike and it was just another thing they had to do to make their parents happy.  The next was what I considered the real choir as it was older congregants standing in a semi-circle singing and then moving into a few different formations.  My new friend, William Jones, who sat next to me and explained most of what was going on, was included in this choir.  And then came the older troupe: 8 men, 8 women, lined up in 4 columns of 4, women doing a simple but flowing dance and the men doing an intense step-show-esque routine.  It was a great combination, and I felt that I was watching the Tanzanian version of Seven Brides for Seven Brothers (correction: Eight Brides for Eight Brothers). 

After all the dancing and singing and preaching, they brought the offering chests to the front of each section, and one by one we proceeded by the boxes, James and I dropping 500Tsh ($.33) into the slot for visitors (which nicely was not labeled as “mzungu” but something with a much more welcoming connotation.  When we thought the hour and a half long service was concluding, a man in a very nice brown suit walked up to the front, waving a cassette tape, explained something, and then started shouting “mia tano, mia tano”!  Luckily William was next to us, and he explained that this was the monthly fundraiser, and from what I could tell at first it seemed like a live auction….I guess you could call it a live auction, but like none that I’ve ever seen.  People would hold up a 500 Tsh bill and after the collector had put the money in the basket, the donor received the tape.  Only problem, as soon as someone else gave mia tano the tape was taken from the initial donor and given to the new.  Some wouldn’t even get to hold the tape, but only touch it before the next person paid mia tano and stole it away.  This went on for…an HOUR.  Towards the end there were finally two people that were going back and forth, mia tano, mia tano, mia tano, and our side found ourselves chanting for the women near us, Mama Ogiri.  People on our side of the church were even giving money for Mama Ogiri to win it, which finally she did.  There is no rhyme or reason for the time when the fundraiser ended, as if the auction caller just up and decided he had gotten enough money.  In the end (30 minutes after the fundraiser ended and they had also had people come up and make pledges), the church raised about 200,000 Tsh (approx. $135).  Four hours later, James and I had had the experience of a lifetime, but more importantly had not eaten breakfast, and so ran home for what would now be brunch as soon as the final benediction had been given.  I look forward to going back for the dancing, but plan on avoiding fundraising Sundays.

Life in Shirati Part Mbili: Discovering my neighbors and hood

On Thursday I was also able to become acquainted with the town of Shirati.  Nyamusi kindly took me on a walking tour of the Kabuana area of Shirati (there are two major sections of town: Kabuana and Obuere).  I got to see his home, which is very nice, with a full living room and TV, bedrooms for all the children, and a kitchen/dining room of purple and gold (I’ll go with royal colors rather than mention THAT school down south of AR).  He’s currently building a home in the back for him and his brother, which is tradition. Most of Kabuana revolves around the main road that goes through town (similar to small towns in Arkansas), and there are store fronts and vendors everywhere.  There is one pub and restaurant, Girango, and the district hospital is directly across.  Nyamusi’s mother owns a kinda five-and-dime shop that sells phone minutes, school/office supplies, greeting cards (Nando and my postcard), and various sundries.  The hospital is a big compound with multiple wards, inpatient care, a surgery “theater”, an entire nursing school, and a leprosy unit.  Only in recent decades have the leprosy patients been allowed to be in the same area as other patients because of the stigma that surrounded lepers for so long.  I then saw the outpatient leprosy camp as well as the new camp that they are currently building to house 16.  It’s very nice and exciting that these people (mostly older men who were already affected badly before modern treatments) are finally taken care of and included rather than cast out to live by the lake.  Shirati, I have found is very similar to a small town in Arkansas in that they have pretty much anything they need food/living wise.  The only problem is major medical specialty procedures must be done in Mwanza (the Little Rock or Dallas of the region).

We were invited to a wedding reception on my second day here.  It was held at the Motel 2000, the biggest hotel in Shirati, which is owned by Manine Kawira, the brother of the couple who own SHED where I’m staying.  The party was for Chris, a “doctor” (really a med tech but townspeople call him doctor) at Shirati Hospital who is from Musoma, 2 hours S of Shirati.  James and I go decked out in local shirts that were made by one of the seamstresses in town, and the hotel is totally decked out in white drapes with blue and white lights behind the head table where the bride, groom, and their two attendants sit.  In front of them is a table with three cakes (one for them and one for each family) and one bottle of every coke available, a bottle of champagne, and water.  The program is pretty long with a lot of talking (in Swahili, so I’m clueless), but it includes a lot of speeches and background music, most notably a long talk by what turns out to be the baker of the cakes.  After her talk, the groom presents a cake to his new family and the bride to hers.  Then loud music starts playing and with the cokes and Fantas (I chose black current, which is grape on a sugar high, SO GOOD!) that we have all been given, everyone present gets up and in line clinks bottles with members of each family and the wedding party.  Finally, comes the gift giving, which is ceremonial in that each gift is given in front of everyone, one by one…we made it through four gifts and our patience ran thin and had to go home…so unfortunately we missed the feast and party afterwards but maybe next wedding…

Life in Shirati: Work with VLOP

So I know that I have only been here for three days, but I feel like I’ve already been here for a week, easily.  My first day I met with Rosie, the on-site Shirati staff of VLOP, and went over my project work and the basics that I will need to survive and thrive in Shirati and Roche.  I will be working with the Roche Health Center (RHC) on monitoring processes and conducting an evaluation of the first 3 months of operation as well as working with the three primary schools in Roche on VLOP’s uji project, which provides lunch to the students at these schools.  Unfortunately, the children are on holiday until after I get back from South Africa, so I can’t begin work until then.  I do, however, begin the learning process with RHC immediately.  On Friday, I went with five others to RHC for the day.  The drive is about 40 minutes by Hilux (Toyota truck), and the scenery is something out of a tour book.  The scenery is rolling hills with trees randomly placed, corn and cassava fields, and brick houses and huts along the road and countryside, colors of spicy mustard yellow and luscious green. Oh, and the rock formations are gorgeous! 

RHC is a gem of the countryside.  It is obviously beautifully built and although it’s only in its first stage, it is impressive the work that has been done in the past year and the services VLOP, SHED, and visiting doctors and students are able to provide for the community of Roche.  Over the day, I received tour and introduction from Nyamusi, a guy who works for VLOP, from Shirati, who went to undergrad in the states.  The staff at RHC include: Nyamusi, who does registration, keeps the workers on task working on structural projects, and does Luo (local tribal language and Obama’s family tribe) translation when needed; Daniel, who lives at RHC, is similar to a medical assistant, takes vitals, gives vaccinations, and takes care of emergency cases during night and week when clinic not operating; Dorothy, who is close in training to a PA in the US, assists with doctor consultations, comes on Fridays, translates Luo when needed, and is best known for her wonderful counseling skills in informing people of grave diagnoses or positive test results of STIs; Dr. Esther Kawira, who is the head doctor of SHED and works at Sota Health Clinic and RHC; and finally the many visiting doctors and med students who assist the SHED staff in doing their best to provide needed medical care to an area with little access and resources for quality health. 

As I observed, I was able to take great introductory notes on what is working well, what is not, the needs of the clinic and the general practices of the staff.  Although I will be doing a much more in-depth assessment of the clinic and villager satisfaction, this was a great first day of learning.  The health system of this area is interesting in that at the SHED clinics the cost of consultation and treatment is minimal and needed drugs are given to patients at cost.  RHC in its small 3 month history has been able to provide treatment for certain diseases and ailments that have helped many villagers around the area (extending into Kenya).  However, many more medicines and treatments are not available for the clinic or for the entire region.  An exciting update, though, is that RHC is close to getting the necessary equipment to work with and treat those villagers with HIV.  Although I’m not on the treatment side of this clinic, I’m excited to assist in developing this center into a major part of the Roche community and a positive light in an area that before lacked accessibility to adequate health care.

Jambo, East Africa! Habariako, Nairobi?!

Jambo, jina langu ni Spencer! I have arrived in East Africa and have already fallen in love.  This place is not only beautiful, but also the people are so welcoming and enthusiastic for life!  I arrived in Nairobi at 6:30am Wednesday morning, after a total of 17 hours of flying, and 9 hours of layovers (all my other classmates have included this so I figured I’d keep it going…).  My first interaction with a Kenyan was a customs officer who took me out of the line and pointed me to the Fast Track lane…check.  My second was with my visa officer who told me that I have a beautiful smile and I will be successful here if I just keep smiling…check and check.  As I walked out of the terminal I saw a smiling face that oddly reminded me of a classmate of mine…MAMA SHAMIM!!! (Here, you address women whose child you know as Mama+child’s name) as well as a sign drawn by Mimi’s 10 y.o. sister, Natasha, that said “Karibu Spencer Lucker” (welcome).  Thus begins my adventure in the EAC. 

Nairobi was an interesting experience, and I definitely don’t fully feel “here” yet.  I slept all morning and early afternoon, and then Mama took me on my first experience on a “mutatu” (public mini-bus), to the city center, and to the supermarket.  I got to see many of the govt. buildings including the Kenyan Central Bank, Dept. of Finance and Admin, Treasury, and the Dept. of Education, which evidently houses some top level bureaucrats about to be arrested for corruption of $2-4 billion in aid from Britain…things are getting interesting.  Once phone and SIM was bought, Mama overloaded my basket with food and juice at the store worried that I would starve on the journey to TZ…Kenyan and Jewish mothers have much in common. 

For dinner, I met up with Fernando and our two new friends with Village Life (VLOP) who will also be in Shirati for the next two weeks (James) and 6 weeks (Sam).  James just finished his first year of med school at Cincinnati; Sam is a freshman at Brown.  We went to the Kenyan version of a Brazilian steakhouse…Carnivore! (Shout out to my LR boys who love Gaucho’s…this is even better)  For Ksh 3300 ($25), we had all-you-can-eat MEAT, everything that you would normally have + camel, ostrich meatballs, ox testicles, and crocodile.  The ostrich was out of this world (like a leaner lamb), ox balls pretty good (tasted very good, but consistency of a mushy Vienna sausage), camel had good flavor but too chewy, and the croc was like chewing on mini-ribs of dried tuna, chewing as in squirrel chewing a nut (try to visualize my action)…food coma, here I come!

Thus, ends my first “city/tourist” experience in East Africa.

“This is the journey that never ends. Yes, it goes on and on, my friends.” (as long as this blog post)

So, I now understand what Richard meant by unreliable buses to the border.  We began my second day in EA at 5 am…well, I was up at 2 because body is not adjusted, but I got some good reading in.  I was to meet up with the guys at 6 at the bus station. When the cab driver arrived, I informed him that I was going to Machaco Country Station and to just drop me off out front.  Evidently, this is not a good idea…Mama laughed at me and took ten minutes ensuring that the driver would not only take me directly to my friends but not leave until my bags and body were on the bus safely. Mom, I’m in good hands!  Thank you so much to Mama Shamim for being so hospitable, kind, and helpful; thank you to Mercy for cooking me breakfast (eggs, bread, and tomato) and preparing hot water so I could take a shower; and thank you to Natasha for making my welcome sign and carrying my backpack this morning…what a hoss!

Machaco Country Station was like a carnival of buses.  There were about 200 buses crammed in a lot for about 50, each of which had neon lights, bright decals, and noises coming from all angles.  It was sensory overload, but luckily I found the guys a few minutes in.  We were put on the “bus going to the border at 6:30” and three hours later, we found ourselves pulling out of the station at 9:30.  Fortunately for me, I was acquainted with African Standard Time over the past year with my wonderful classmates, Nicky and Shamim, although I don’t know if it was ever to that extent.  Once off, we made it about an hour (in traffic) to the suburbs of the city (still in Nairobi) before we pulled over and stopped.  Evidently the white police were up ahead, and they’re the special forces that you just don’t mess with.  So we hang out for another mmm…2 hours, until we finally leave.  Fortunately, we made a friend, James, who is from and going to Mwanza (FYI, James look just like Junior from Cool Runnings and my biggest regret of the trip is not asking if he’s seen the movie).  This is good news because this means he also must cross the border, so we will not be left by ourselves in a town NOT at the border…so we thought.  Once we leave, we’re off and running, AKA I’m out like a scout.  Over the next four hours, I only really wake up to see the Great Rift Valley…pictures were taken and yes, it really is that beautiful and the Lion King was very accurate. 

At 6 o’clock we drive past a town called Migori…and next thing we know the bus is turning around and going BACK to Migori…this is not good.  We stop in Migori, and as if this was a choreographed dance and we were not included, EVERYONE got up, grabbed their bags and left the bus…everyone except for us.  Now, Migori is not the border town; Sirari is, but luckily, Mwanzan James is included in “us,” so we know we’re not totally wrong.  He talked to the bus driver and coordinated a driver to the border for us.  So, here we go, the five of us joining two other people and the driver in a four door compact car each of us with at least one bag, me with 2 duffels, a backpack, and a bag of food.  Three people squeezed in with the lady in the back and I looked at the driver and said, “Oh sorry, there are three of us left and there’s only one seat in the front; obviously, I haven’t caught on yet. Next thing I know, Mwanzan James is sharing half of the driver’s seat, half of mine, straddling the gear shift, James and I are also sharing the front seat, and there are four people in the back…for a 20 minute drive.  We were pretty much crammed in like sardines; some call it torture and discomfort, I call it fuel efficiency.  Once we got to the border, we were quickly approached by someone from SHED offering to take our bags and drive us to Shirati.  James immediately asked, “How did you know we were the VLOP guys?” (I must admit that I thought the same thing)…Reality check: we are the only mzungus (white people) in about 100 miles. 

An hour and a half later, we are in Shirati, TZ, my home for the next 10 weeks.  I can’t really tell you if it’s pretty or not because it’s pitch black outside and no electricity inside, but we do have lanterns and they have dinner waiting for us…rice, beans, and some great sauce for the rice: my kind of people.  I’ve been here for an hour, and I’m already happy!  Over and out!

The Global Traveler

As my flight to Nairobi continues, five hours down and three and a half to go, I, of course, am wide awake…it’s only 3:15 in the morning, no biggie.  However, being awake at this time is great for reflection on the past 24 hours of travel because, well, I’m the only one awake and all you can hear are the roar of the engine, air conditioning that is freezing us all out, and the occasional cough (which is always comforting on a container 35,000 feet in the sky – hope they don’t have anything…).  First of all, it was great to spend 3 hours with one of my favorite people in the world, Lindsey Rose Shindler, for a brief layover run into the great city of London.  It was great to get my fix for the next two months before we take London by storm on my way home. 

Anyways, in reflecting on my experiences today, I realize how diverse the world traveler is.  Besides the fact that on my London flight, I sat next to a Pakistani man, an Irish woman across the aisle, and was served by a Taiwanese lady, and on my Nairobi flight, next to a teenager from South England and an Indian med student from Kenya, the WAY people handle sitting in a big vessel soaring through the sky is very diverse.  I look around me and there’s a man using those awkwardly comfortable neck pillows, a girl covered to her neck with the provided blanket, a little girl curled up legs in a ball leaning on her mother’s shoulder (I’m most jealous of her), some people dead asleep sitting STRAIGHT UP, my neighbor with his blanket fully covering his body like a green, Kenyan ghost, and then, of course, the lazy guy, who just passes out forward, head sticking to the entertainment screen in the seat in front of him.  Me, I choose to utilize the built in pillow that bends in to embrace my head (I wish it were as comfortable as how I just described it).  When awake, some people choose to talk to strangers or companions, others listen to music on their iPod or the provided radio stations, some read anything from the provided magazines to sexy romance novels (that my grandmother probably just finished) to the paper that the Kenya Air people were kind enough to provide, but most take advantage of the awesome technology we now have allowing each of us to watch movies, television shows, or Kenyan soap operas on demand on a little personalized screen in front of us in any language from English to Portuguese to Swahili…well, most people at least; my neighbor and I missed out on that technology, as our screens are stuck on the Radio: “RnB & Pop” section, the apparent abyss of in-flight entertainment, as our remotes cannot navigate away from listening to Britney, Miley, and a few Black Eyed Peas.  No worries, I’ll just read my book and reflect and eat.  This diversity makes me realize, though, that no matter how we travel, we are all taking advantage of the small, incredibly accessible world that we now live in, expanding our knowledge base and reading even more and more chapters of the book of our world. 

AND, I gotta tell you, besides my entertainment screen not working, I have been so impressed with Kenya Airlines!  They provide you with a newspaper as you walk on, coffee, tea, then water and juice, all served sequentially, the flight attendants are gorgeous, and the food has been AMAZING!  I asked what my choices for dinner were, and I was told “Chicken, Veggie, or Lamb”….LAMB?! The flight attendant quickly noticed my shock and excitement and proceeded to hand me what would be by far the best meal I’ve ever had on the numerous overnight flights I’ve endured.  Not only was there lamb that had an impressive flavor that tasted like Costa Rica, but rice and potatoes reminding me of Shamim’s wonderful Kenyan cooking, a roll that was soft and moist, “Laughing Cow” cheese (of which Meme will be jealous), and for desert? A berry cheese Danish sort of cake!  As I said, Shamim, I am very impressed!  But now that I have a happy stomach, full of tasty food and the numerous beverages that followed our meal, I am going to turn my head to the right and take advantage of the embrace of my built-in seat pillow and dream for a couple hours of the excitement to come!

Emotions of Leaving

So over the past six weeks, I have finished my first year of grad school, moved out of my carriage house downtown (which took a majority of those six weeks), watched two of my boys marry the women of their dreams, said goodbye over and over and over again to my loved ones, and embarked on the journey of a lifetime.  It's an interesting feeling packing up the life that you know into a storage unit, kissing your loved ones goodbye, and giving up all the luxuries that we are afforded in the United States.  However, there is so much excitement boiling inside of me for the new luxuries that I will experience: peace of mind, slower paced life, more time to just sit and talk, living with and learning from people so different from me, and the opportunity to assist people in changing their community! I am sitting in the London airport right now, exhausted, but so high on life that I can't stand it.  Flight takes off for Nairobi in thirty three minutes, so I better go, but cheerio and kwa heri for now.

Also, a final shout out to Chad and Hart Berry who threw an AMAZING wedding this weekend.  Congrats, y'all!

Spencer

Let's try this thing out!

Happy first day of June, everyone!  Nineteen days from today, I will be leaving the great state of Arkansas for the next great journey in my life.  Until then, I will be unpacking from moving out of my house, meeting with professors and VLOP folk, packing, enjoying some final quality time with family and friends, packing, collecting all the books and movies I'll be taking for entertainment, packing, two weddings, and finishing packing, and finally kiss my parents and loved ones.

In between all of these activities, I continue to get more and more excited for this great adventure that is coming.  I cannot wait to meet the people of Shirati and Roche, better my Swahili (won't take much), exchange stories, experiences, and thoughts with my temporary neighbors, and make EVERY MOMENT COUNT!

I invite you to follow my adventures as I travel to Shirati, Tanzania, to meet, learn, grow, and most importantly SERVE.  This adventure is not only for me but for anyone who has dreamt of going to Tanzania (or East Africa), learning a new language, or experiencing the true diversity we have on Earth.  Let's experience this TOGETHER!

SFL

P.S. Happy Birthday to one of my best buds, Peter.  Welcome to 23!