As written 7 November 2009

I am starting to get used to the sounds of kenya, although I am not there yet. The sounds of the birds scratching on my tin roof still startles me every now and then. The chants from the mosque before the crack of dawn. At dusk I can hear the bells around the goats necks clank as they rummage through out trash pile (modern grazing). I can now fall asleep dispite the impressively loud cricket stuck in a crack in my wall, thanks to the wonderful invention of ear plugs. I am working on not being bothered by my neighbor's loud music, and I now sleep through the middle of the night cries of my neighbor's baby. I do still love it when the electricity goes out. I love hearing the screams and laughter of the watoto in my compound as they wait for their Mamas to finish making dinner. I can tell what type of fly is buzzing around my head just by the sound. In the mornings and evenings I eat to the rhythm of the Kenyan Mamas sweeping around their houses. Sometimes I get off my butt and add my own sweeping beat. Sunday is the day of church noises. Every church service here is hooked up to a blaring sound system that is broadcast throughout the town. If I stay at home on Sundays, I have about 4 different church services streaming through my house. I went to the Pentacostal service with my fellow teachers last week. When the speakers broke, I was able to actually here their real voices (the speakers aren't a great quality). Their voices are absolutly beautiful. If I could find a church without speakers I would go just to hear them sing.

I have just finished my dreaded week of teacher on duty (MOD). For those who are unfamiliar with the kenyan education system, the teacher on duty is basically the disciplinarian for the week. There are other roles as well, like handing out forms giving permission to go to the doctor's, but that I can handle. Apparently I can handle the disciplinarian role as well, because I am still alive. Although, I am a half of a bar of chocolate down, and one more round of giardia up. Giardia is JUST as much fun the second time around! Bascially, as MOD I keep track of which students are late, and assign them to cleaning jobs at the end of the day. I threw in some American methods by having them write answers to questions on why they ddi what they did, and what they will do to correct the behavior next time. However, I quickly realized that the system and resources are not in place for it to be effective. I also realized taht in order for Kenyan students to arrive to school on time (saa moja, 7:00am) they home culture will need to change. Some of them just sleep in, but many of them have to help their younger siblings get ready, or help with the morning chores. Because I am new, American, and clrealy less familiar with the kenyan education system, my students tested me SO hard. I don't think I cracked. On monday I was tested, by wednesday they listened, and by friday was laughed together. it could have gone MUCH worse. I survived, and still love my job.

I went hiking last saturday to this amazing cave-like boulder and stream that serves as my town's water source. I guess a lot of people hike up there to pray; I can see why. It was beautiful. We lazed on the rocks for a couple of hours, then hiked back down. On the way down, I was a small family of baboons, Oh kenya. The people that I have met so far have been so incredibly generous and welcoming. I ahve been invited to at least 6 different churches. I ahve been offered to be walked/driven home in the dark. I have been given gree sodas and had dinners paid for. On Monday, after my first and hardest day of duty I was taken out for chicken and chips. I am just waiting for my chance to return the favors. I have found my favorite hoteli (restaurant). I don't even konw the name, but it is a place where the elderly Masai men go; you could pass by it and have no idea that it is a place to eat. But the owner always greets me with a big smile, and there is always warm chapati. Most of the mamas at the sokoni (market) now know who i am, and greet me as I walk by. I buy so many bananas and mangoes, they must think taht I am feeding a whole family! One of the Mamas let me hang out behind her market stand the other day to get rid of my new friends, the town drunk.

I no longer have to convince myself when I wake up in the morning that I can do this for two years; now it is just a given!

One note: if you got the new address from my parents, the PO Box number changed from 7 to 111 (everything else is the same, including the 00207 number)