Adjusting

         I have been here for a little over two weeks and I must admit that until very recently I was convinced that I would never be able to figure things out.  Forget fitting in, I was just concerned that the overwhelming oh-my-gosh-I-understand-and-recognize-nothing feeling would never subside.  Funny thing though- things are starting to make sense.  For all that I am living on a different continent 8/11 hours ahead of my home in a country with a culture, demographic, and socio-economic status completely different from my own, I have begun to develop and cultivate my own routine. Never mind that it consists of getting up at 5:30 every morning to go to the work out so I can shower with hot water, walking 40 minutes to school every day on dusty, uneven roads, attending an inefficient, infuriating university were I am a very tiny minority, and studying ethnic/tribal division and its affect on urban life and a country’s stability.  To give you all an idea of some of the differences  I have been facing, here is a list - sorry it is a little long- but then again, it has been an immense adjustment.

Njema Court:

            I live in an apartment with three other people in a space that is absolutely enormous when compared to my dorm back at American University.  We have our own balcony, laundry room, kitchen, two bathrooms, a living and dining area, and three bedrooms.  Initially I wasn’t sure how to handle not living with forty other people and confining my belongings to a space a little bit bigger than my bathroom here, but I must admit that the privacy and the silence is starting to grow on me.  The walls here are thin- I can hear our next door neighbor’s dogs barking long into the night and early in the morning- definitely making me nostalgic for my neighbors back at the dorms who would listen when asked to quiet down- dogs don’t care what hour it is I have come to find. 

            We also have a maid and a laundry lady here- something that I am sure every college student wishes for – someone to clean up your messes every day and wash your clothes twice a week.  Many may think that this is something to be envied- yet it has its downfalls.  The maid loves rearranging our stuff (occasionally ending up in things falling and breaking) and if we are in the apartment after 8am I get the distinct feeling of being underfoot and useless.  Having our laundry done is great, but very often we don’t know when the laundry is coming back which at times can cause chaos. Instead of rummaging through my clothes hamper for that pair of gym shorts like I would have at school, I now have to run around the apartment complex (not worth it). 

            Hot water is a big difference here as well.  Here we have to pay for our electricity and hot water is one of the biggest expenses so instead of having a hot, long shower every day (my biggest comfort in the US) I wake up at 5:30 every morning and go to the gym to work out and have a warm shower with low water pressure before walking to class.

Transportation:

            Never before have I had to travel a substantial distance to go to school (minus moving to Washington D.C.): my elementary school was three houses down, my middle and high school were a fifteen minute drive away, and my classes at American University were on campus.  Now to go to school, I walk forty minutes to the study abroad office, trekking down concrete and dirt roads, past fences made out of barbed wire (not good for an oblivious, klutz like myself), and past a river.  From there, when I need to go to USIU, I take a matatu into town and then take a bus from town to Thika Road were my university is- about an hour journey in lawless traffic where it is common for the bus or matau to drive on the sidewalk or into oncoming traffic all the while blaring Kenyan rap or 90s American music.

             On the subject of matatus- they are absolutely insane and would never be allowed in Washington D.C.  Imagine a van that carries fourteen people with seats worn down and exposed metal parts cramming sixteen to twenty people in the car without seat belts.  When driving, they swerve in an out of traffic often going against traffic or onto the sidewalk in order to pull ahead of the Los Angeles-like traffic all for a price that you have to negotiate once you get inside the car.  Crazy, right?  Well, now I am matatu-ing with the best of them. 

Food:

            I have never been such a great food snob that I would turn down AU’s TDR and I must admit that every day I spend away from TDR the more and more I miss it.  While the food there may not have been the best, it was consistent, convenient, and clean. We don’t have a meal plan here and must cook all of our meals on our gas stove at Njema or brave the various food stands in Nairobi.  Before coming here, I had never used a gas stove so the trial period led to many burns and frustrations but now my meals are coming out much more edible, luckily for me.              Additionally our grocery stores are about a forty minute trek into Westlands and the walk back is torture when carrying heavy groceries.  Kenyans also don’t believe in the big refrigerators that we have in the states for eggs, milk, yogurt, and cheese…that was hard on me when my stomach was still adjusting to food here.  It is also more popular to go to the butchers than to buy frozen meat, so my diet has seen much less meat as the thought of trekking to the butchers with the flies, blood, and animal parts make me lose my appetite instantly. 

            As someone used to every eating establishment having a lettered grade and being relatively safe to eat, the fact that I have to be very cautious on what I eat here is difficult- and my absentmindedness often has dire consequences.  I am someone who loves fresh vegetables and fruit and the fact that we cannot have uncooked vegetables or fruit that cannot be peeled takes getting used to.  The produce here is often grown in the informal settlements and the water used often has human/animal waste in it so the warning is to be taken very seriously.  Finally, food sold on the side of the road can smell wonderful, but can prove to be very dangerous as it may have been weeks since the cooking oil was last changed.  As good as it smells, that moment of pleasure is not worth days of being sick.  To end, there are very few American foods here.  There are no McDonalds, Starbucks, Taco Bells (there is a Taco Club but they sell chicken, chips, and ugali), ketchup, ice cubes, and desserts.  Needless to say my first few days back home will be full of Chipolte, pizza, burgers, salads, and fruit.

I know I haven’t learned all that there is to learn yet and every day a dozen small things pop up that I must learn to adjust with.  But hey, this is Kenya and I am loving it.