12 Step Program [Reposted from 12/2/08]

I realize that I haven't been talking about the babies nearly enough. This may very well be because my days have become routine (up until now, that is, with my recent illness):

I wake up at 6:15am, have breakfast, leave for the orphanage (the matatu rides take about an hour collectively), and arrive at Imani at 8am. From there, I feed the babies, change diapers and clothing, straighten up the room. If the weather is nice, which it usually is, we'll take the babies outside into the courtyard, where the older ones in my group (usually around 4-6 months old) sit in basins to practice sitting up. At 10am, the kids get water. The younger ones lie sideways on cots. Then, we feed them lunch at around noon (porridge for the older ones, formula for the younger), change them again, and have lunch ourselves at around 1pm. At 1:30, we start cleaning up outside, and start bringing the babies back in. Then, around 2:30, it gets hectic: we have to bathe and change 12 newborn-to-three-month babies in just over an hour. It's quite the challenge.

The volunteers are split up amongst the age groups, and the auntie in charge of the youngest group specifically requested me on the first day of work: "Get me that American girl." From that point on, it's just been me and the littlest ones, and they are so beautiful and sweet, it's impossible not to fall in love with them. Here are the twelve:

1. Yuri: I have yet to take a photo of him, but he is the most precious thing. He's one of the "oldest" of the young babies, he smiles uncontrollably, and really has trouble keeping the drool in his mouth. He has many ladies at the orphanage, including my auntie and another of the volunteers. As such, I've given him up to them(though I do plan on stealing him when no one's looking). Edit: new photo of him. He is beautiful, no?

2. Jimmy [pictured]: this guy is my little fatty. You know those rolls of fat that are just so unbelievably cute on babies? He's got them in spades. He's a handsome one, completely adorable, prone to smiles, and the favorite of many.

3. Marco: the oldest of the babies. He's the tiniest, most volatile, most curious of the bunch. He's ready to break into tears at any second, but he's doing very well developmentally. He loves to grab things, is entranced by new colors and sounds, and his curiosity is infectious.

4. Lydia [pictured]: this is my girl. She's the only girl in the "older" group, and I think she's taken as much of a liking to me as I have to her. She's got these beautiful eyes, and every time I sing to her, I can make her smile. She is so beautiful and so precious, I can't stand it.

5. Moses [pictured with me]: the last of the older babies. He is a grouch, usually the sole crying baby. He gets quite greedy at mealtimes, constantly craves attention, and has a respiratory illness (so he sounds like a little froggy. The aunties thought it was hilarious that I called him Little Froggy.). When he smiles, though, watch out.

6. Benny [pictured]: Oh, Benny! Quite difficult to feed him, as he's prone to squirming. He looks like a little muppet, what with his perfect sideways "D" smile, his button nose, and his wide eyes.

7. Jessica: Jessica, Precious, and Michelle are sometimes difficult to tell apart. I've found some distinguishing characteristics between them, though. Jessica has got some beautiful eyes. She's relatively tame, neither smiling nor crying excessively, and she's quite lovely. Edit: they are no longer difficult to tell apart. Jessica has quickly become one of my favorites, as she's learned how to smile, not just with her mouth but with her entire face and body. It's exciting to see her smile, completely electric and having her so wholeheartedly trusting in you. She has beautiful eyes still.

8. Precious: Precious is a handful. She tends to get sick and vomit pretty easily, cries a lot, and, of the little ones, is the one most often found wailing. When she's sweet, though, she is wonderfully so, and cuddles up to you when you hold her.

9. Michelle: Michelle is the most prone to smiles. She's almost laughing now, and her little chuckle is adorable. She's frequently placed next to Obama because the two are "married."

10. Obama [pictured]: this is my little precious, my little President. He is frequently seen with a look of profound concern on his face, brows furrowed, eyes intense. When I first got there, he was the youngest, and his only activities were sleeping and crying. He was crying when he wasn't sleeping and vice versa. Now, though, he's gotten older and relatively tame. He almost smiles. He's somewhere around four weeks old. I will take him home with me.

11. Anton [pictured]: the youngest of our group. When he came, he was only 2 days old. He's getting stronger by the day, and I find that one of the most rewarding things I can do is to pick him up. He has this way of making you feel so special, so loved. As soon as you pick him up, he stops crying, he smacks his lips a couple times, and curls up to you. His body stops shaking. He is so beautiful and so lovely.

12. Edith: Edith is right between the oldest and youngest of our group. She's a happy girl, mostly calm, and enamored of sleeping for long, comatose stretches at a time.

I will edit this further as I get more information and inspiration. My current state of illnes is keeping me from writing as well and as much as I'd like to, so I'll hopefully keep this an open entry, adding to it as I see fit.

P.S. Photos aren't allowed, so...you didn't see these from me. These are clearly stock photos of babies.

I lied.

I guess that last entry was not, in fact, my last one from Kenya.

Today was the kids' Christmas party--it's a national holiday today, much like American Independence Day, and all Imani kids of all ages celebrated as if it were December 25 (on which date, incidentally, they do not celebrate at all).

I've just gotten home. I had to say goodbye to my babies, and I thought it would be a simple process. I've done it before, in Romania, with no problems. We have a total of 15 babies in our group, and I got through ten of them thinking, "Oh, this is going to be a breeze."

Then, gradually, my allergies started to get worse. I started sniffling quite a bit. When I got to Lydia, whom I'd saved for last, I found my eyesight blurring, my sniffles getting worse, and suddenly, I was violently sobbing into Lydia's pajamas.

I can't explain what exactly was going through my head. I can only say it was purely feeling, something entirely primitive, much akin to a mother leaving her child. The aunties were actually very kind for once, saying that I would surely come back, and by then, Lydia would be running up to the gate to greet me. I hope this is true.

Tabitha, the big boss lady (i.e. director), even took some photos of me with Lydia and Obama because I was sobbing so badly.

All in all, it was a stressful, tearful last day that I cannot even begin to process as of yet. It's even difficult to write about it, and all I know is that I am very, very, very sad to go home.

[photo is one Tabitha took of me crying with my baby]

Oh, sawa.

Well...I only have a few days left in Kenya, and I'm filled with far more regret than I thought I would be. I managed to take a lovely video of my babies today, for which to remember them and all their eccentricities. Michelle was crying, which is uncharacteristic, and Lydia seemed more intent on staring at the camera than her usual giggly smiles.

Anyway, I have a few essays planned out in my notebook, but because I don't have much time, and because I'd rather be doing other things than typing for the next couple hours (I'm learning to make chapati today!), I will save those essays for when I get home. When I'll be in some deep withdrawal.

So now, let me leave you with a list of Swahili words and phrases I actually DO use, just so you can decipher the gibberish I will be unconsciously saying when I get back:

Sasa?
(What's up?/How are you?)

Fit.
(Fine.)

Habari?
(Same as 'sasa,' but more formal)

Pole.
(Sorry.)

Pole sana.
(Very sorry.)

Asante.
(Thank you.)

Asante sana.
(Thank you very much.)

Sawa.
(Good./OK.)

Sawa sawa.
(That's fine.)

Nataka ____.
(I want ____.)

Chakula
(food)

Maziwah
(Milk)

Maji
(water)

Zombie

I find that I quite like walking around Buru Buru when dark falls. It's the small neighborhood within Nairobi in which I currently live, and I don't have the pleasure of doing that walk very often. The air is cool, the dust is mostly settled, and the sky seems somehow deeper, darker than what I have at home. What deters me from doing it more is not, in fact, that it is dangerous to walk alone at night (especially as a mzungu), though, to be quite honest, that really should be a deterrent.

No, instead, the reason I don't do it more often is because, in the dark, the crowds of pedestrians walking the streets at night, with their darkened silhouettes lurching toward me on this dusty road, all look like zombies.

And if there's anything I learned from all those zombie movies I've watched, it's that you do NOT go outside in the night in the open with zombies afoot.

Baby Got Back

I was once on a matatu going to Nairobi city centre that was so crowded, the matatu man had to go through and make all the people standing in the aisle stand up straight in single file. He even gave one of the standing men's bags to a seated woman in order to minimize space wastage.

So, here we were, all in claustrophobic chaos, when I felt my head suddenly pitch forward to about a 45 degree angle. It wasn't an accident or some kind of emergency braking maneuver because I felt a steady pressure on the back of my head.

No, it was, in fact, the man collecting matatu fares who had shoved himself into the fray. He was bending himself over at the waist to talk to the people seated catty corner to me, and as a result, this forced his buttocks to protrude into the back of my neck.

Annoyed, I shoved him away, but he simply planted his feet more firmly and shook his butt into the back of my head, back and forth, taunting.

The butt jig was disconcerting at the time, but actually quite hilarious in retrospect. This matatu man truly puts the 'ass' in 'classy,' and for that, I give him props.

Matatus, Part II

Apparently, no guilt was necessary for missing work today: all the volunteers missed work, as there's currently a matatu strike in Kayole, the part of Nairobi where our orphanage is situated. I can't imagine whom the matatus are striking against, and I also can't imagine a matatu union, so we'll see what the outcome is.

Speaking of matatus, I do feel I should mention that I've been on a total of 3 matatus pulled over by police for various reasons. 2 of those drivers have been arrested. Fun fact.

Oh, and here's another interesting tidbit I found in my Kenya health guidebook:

"Traffic in Kenya drives on the left. The country has one of the highest road fatailty rates in the world. Excessive speed, unpredictable local driving habits and manners, poor vehicle maintenance, bumpy, potholed and unpaved roads, and the lack of basic safety equipment on most vehicles are the hazards most evident on Kenyan roades. When there is a heavy traffic jam either due to rush hour or because of an accident, drivers are known to drive across the median strip and drive directily towards the oncoming traffic.

There are also fatal accidents reported that involve long-distance, inter-city buses, or local minibuses caled 'matatus.' They are typically driven at unsafe speeds and erratically cause accidents with other motorists or pedestrians."

So, given all this, is it strange that I have yet to witness a matatu accident? Or any accident at all?

If you're wondering why I'm online so much the past few days, it's because my host mother's sister left her laptop here, and all of us have been using it to access the internet. So, my recent prolonged illness has actually given me ample time for web surfing, oh joy!

Also, as a side note, given the amount of vomiting I've been exposed to the past couple of days, I would just like to say that I have never, and I especially do not now, understand bulemics.

Catholic Guilt

I had to stay home from work again today, which has brought on, of course, an onslaught of my old friend, Catholic Guilt. I miss my Lydia baby and my Obama baby, and I don't have much time left with them--just six days.

Last night, I underwent another fit of vomiting, this time quite unexpected after the first square meal I've had in three days. My host mother, Violet, got so worried, she made me go to the hospital at 10pm. (Hospital isn't as dire as it sounds--here, they don't have individual doctor practices, so if you need to see a doctor, a hospital is your only choice.)

The doctor last night prescribed me 4 different medications, 2 for whatever bacterial infection I have, 2 for my cold. And then, the pharmacy proceeded to rip me off at a cool 2,250 Ksh. I found out today that I could actually bargain at the pharmacy, which seems somehow wrong. It's like those coupons we used to get in the mail in Los Angeles that advertise Lasik eye surgery, "second eye free!" Souvenirs, I would bargain for, yes. Clothes, shoes, absolutely. Food...maybe not the best idea, but okay. Things related to health, however, are not things you typically should want to get for less, especially when involving drugs or scalpels.

With any luck, this will all clear up soon. I'm feeling much better today, but I think I do tend to feel better in the daytime, when I feel I should be doing other things...like taking care of babies.