jamaa wangu

This is the slowest internet connection in the world. It took me five minutes just to get google to load. For serious.

Right! Host family stuffs! (Jamaa wangu means my family.)

My Kenya mom picked me up on Saturday. The first thing she said to me after "I'm your mother" is "Short hair! My daughter is a tomboy! We cannot take you to the salon to get your hair plaited." The next thing she asked? "What denomination are you?" My Kenyan family is Catholic -- they have multiple pictures of wazungu (white person) Jesus in their nyumbani (home). I'm really excited to go to Catholic mass -- hopefully I can convince them to take me to the Kiswahili one once and the English one once. The only mass I've ever been to is the Spanish ones downtown for Cinco de Mayo in Portland.

We took two matatus (local bus/vans that are always packed with people and super uncomfortable) to get to Riruta Satellite, which is the village we are staying in. It's the suburbs, so it's fairly nice on the inside. The main road is even sort of paved.

I have two sisters and a brother: Cecilia (21), Liz (18), and Joe (12). Both my sisters are in college or university, but they live at home and commute because boarding is so expensive. My little brother goes to boarding school in the village, so even though I've passed his shule (school), I haven't met him yet. Liz likes to draw and is studying graphic design; Cecelia is studying marketing and public relations. They're both awesome fun. They were shocked when I informed them that in Portland, there are no zebras, elephants, or giraffes wandering around in the wild.

On Sunday, my family and my mama's best friend's family (and their wazungu kids Adam and Colin) visited my mama's father in hospital. He's been there for about three weeks, and my mama explained yesterday that he had to have surgery to remove a tumour, but the doctors aren't sure if he has cancer or not... anyhoo. After that we went to the Arboretum. It rained. We were riding in the back of a pickup to get there and back, so we got a little damp, but not too bad. There is a drought here, so water is pretty scarce. It rained on Sunday night, so the walk to school on Monday morning was verrrrry muddy. My mama packed me a lunch and walked me to school, which was just about like being nine again, and we had to take an alternative route because the shortcuts were flooded.

So, since I'm sure everyone's curious about the bathroom situation: We do not have western style facilities in my nyumbani. Anything involving water in the bathroom centers around one shared drain. The toilet is like the traditional Japanese ones -- that is, it's a ceramic trough that sits in the floor, and you sort of squat over it. To flush, you pour a bucket of water down it. For showering, you bring in a big bucket of hot water, and just sort of splash yourself and hope the majority of the water makes its way to the loo. It's efficient and it works, so no complaints here.

My host family was excited to find out that I'm not actually a vegetarian like they'd been told. My baba (father) was particularly excited, because he's a "carnivorous." He told me he would bring a live chicken home on Monday for dinner and that I could help him slaughter it. Normally they slaughter a goat to honour a guest their first day. Fortunately, he was kidding about having me help or indeed the chicken being alive. I actually didn't see the chicken at all until it was in my bowl. Whew.

When I was doing my Swahili homework last night, I found out by asking mama wangu (my mother) that there is a traditional Kikuyu dish called Mokimo. My jamaa (family) thought it was really funny that I have a dog nicknamed Moki Mo.

Everyone I meet that I introduce myself to feels the need to exclaim excitedly that my name is Swahili, did you know?! The answer is yes. Yes, I am quite aware. It means life. In Swahili. I've taken to introducing myself by saying, "Jina langu ni Maisha. Dyio, jina langu ni kiswahili." (My name is Maisha. Yes, my name is Swahili.) Last night watching the Swahili news I heard my name about seven times. It's surreal. I also found out from mama wangu that Maisha is a fairly common name here, and also that it's used in HIV/AIDS campaign signs.

My family is very interested in Obama, and I assured them that not only is almost everyone from LC voting for Obama, but so is most of my family. Baba wangu said something like "Obama speaks cooler. Like if you closed your eyes and had no idea what he looked like, just listening, you'd say 'Ah! This candidate has the right ideas!' His voice is stronger." My host dad is full of cute liberal sentiments, like "It does not matter that we are different religions. We all believe in something bigger than us, and it's the same thing, only the details are different." On my first day, mama wangu told me "You will see by the end that it does not matter who we are or where we live, that I am Kenyan and you are American -- we are all just people." My host father also told me, "Don't worry about doing things right or doing things wrong. Just do what is comfortable and it will be okay." That really made me feel a lot better about not knowing how to do everything right.

My host family is excited to meet my American mother and father when they come to visit, and this morning mama wangu told me that anytime I stay in Kenya, I know I have a home. Whenever, wherever, I am welcome back.

I'm on my lunch break right now, and it's about time to head back to school for history class to start. The cybercafe costs about a little over a penny a minute USD, which isn't too shabby! I just wish it were faster.