Mango under candlelight

Mango season is coming to an end. A season for new fruits is surely taking its place, but mango season is my favorite and I'm sad to see it pass. Every time I travel to a new place in Kenya, including Mugona, I discover a different type of mango. Outside of my door is a mango tree that produces mangos smaller than your palm. They are yellow inside, juicy and extremely fibrous. These are not a 'first date' appropriate mango, or one you would want to eat on the way out the door. No matter how dainty you try to be (and lets face it, I should not even try), bunches of mango fibers will always lodge themselves in your front teeth. It is better just to embrace the mango mouth. The mangos I buy in the market are bigger than grapefruits, orange on the inside, and by far my favorite. I can only find them in Chuka town. With the move, I now live a 20-30 minute walk from the main road, then a 15 minute matatu ride to chuka. It has taken some adjustment to learn how much food to buy to last a week, and how much I can carry. I've learned my lesson with mangos: when the market mamas told me they were going out of season I freaked and bought 10 of the biggest I could find. It was quite the workout to walk up the road to my house, but completely worth it.

The first few nights in Mugona were accompanied by electricity from a generator, but it has been on and off (mostly off) since then. I have not grown out of the excitement I used to get when the power went out during storms at home. I happily light my candle and read with a mug full of hot chocolate. It would be far more efficient to buy a lantern, but I am too stubborn in my ways.

When I first came to kenya my one request for site placement was to be in a place where I can grow my own food. Namanga was a lot of things, but a place to garden was not one of them. I feel like I've been given a second chance. So far I've started tomato, kale, and spinach plants, accompanied by two mango trees. I have learned that I am an impatient gardener, or maybe I was just too excited. The day after hiding the seeds in the soil I kept looking outside to note their progress. There wasn't any, of course. The day I saw them reaching their little arms up to the sky for the first time, I couldn't help but smile to myself. There is something so rewarding in seeing your garden grow.

Mzungu anakimbia

I woke up this morning with the determination to start a new running routine. It was short, but otherwise perfect. At 6:30 in the morning the moon was still out, while most people were still in. I ran by fields of coffee, maize, and bananas. My plan was to run the short loop twice, but the mud had other ideas. When it rains the mud forms a sticky goo that attaches to your shoes until your feet feel too heavy to move. When I got back to school the student I had said good morning to on my way out told me 'that was TOO short!' Tomorrow she will show me the long way. I am ready. I got back home just in time. Mugona is enveloped in a thick chilly cloud, bringing more rain. There are rumblings of thunder in the distance.

I finally broke down and purchased a computer. I went back and forth countless times. I like my life here; it is simple. The only possession really have to think about is my camera. I don't have a TV or radio, although I do treat myself to an ipod dance party every now and then. I didn't want the access to a computer to change my nightly reading and journal writing routine. It is all in my control, but it is just so easy to find yourself engrossed in CNN or home life. As it turns out, the lack of electricity and only 3 hours of generator time per day adds a little assurance that I can only waste so much time. My decision came down to my affectiveness in my new home as a volunteer. I am able to research methods for lesson planning, how to make a barometer from simple materials, information on FGM, ideas for building a bakery for the school, and sponsorship opportunities for the students. I laughed to myself yesterday while typing up the activities I've done in class for biology, because I had no water and no electircity, but I could check my e-mail!

A few days ago I was riding in a party matatu and watching music videos; some from kenya, some from the states. It was about a 1 1/2 hour ride. A half an hour in, I was so absorbed in the music videos (its been a while) that when I looked out the window it hit me like a slap in the face (a good slap) that I'm in Kenya, riding through giant hills of terraced tea farm country.

My definition of a party matatu: A 15 passenger van that in kenya can be stuffed to 29 people (the highest number I've experienced) with loud music and a TV for passenger enjoyment.