I'm coming home...

It is time....

I have not been looking forward to this day for the last two months. 

If i could have it my way, I would not come home yet, but then i may never.

There are so many things that I'm going to miss here.

I will miss the kids: their voices, their laughter, their cries. I will miss their singing in the morning, during wash time and before bed. I will miss them when they come home from school as they tell us what they've learnt or who they played with. I will miss it when they say 'sorly' when they know they've done something wrong. But most of all their smiles... The way they look at you when they are in trouble or when are calling your name. I will miss the way they chant my name when they see me: 'Ungie, Ungie, Ungie'. I will miss each laugh. The different sounds they make and their unique facial expressions.

I will miss walks: holding their dirty little hands as we shuffle along the dirt road. Telling the kids to 'twende' (let's go!) when they are walking too slowly because their shoes don't fit them. I will miss them saying 'Habari' and greeting each passerby with a handshake. I will miss walking at the end of the pack with Timo as he puts all his strength in to each step.

I will miss their singing: their terrible pronunciation of 'Father Abraham' and the way they always sing the express version and run to their seats to sit down. I will miss Kush's singing and him telling me personally that i am Abraham's son. I will miss their Swahili songs and how they make a baa baa sheep noise at the end of Baa Baa Black Sheep. 

I will miss bed time: putting the boys to sleep. Chasing and yelling at them to go susu and struggling with their mosquito nets. Singing 'twinkle twinkle' with them. High fiving and fist pumping them. Telling them I love them and them responding that they love themselves. Good night kisses.

I will miss Swahili songs:the kids singing about Jesus and the ones that Jane always play at full volume on the TV. Listening to the carers sing and their beautifully, haunting voices. Children dancing in front on the TV with the carers.

I will miss meal times: the children praying, the way they close their eyes and put their hands together. The lack of noise in the room as they eat, the only noise is their chewing. The way they observe their ugali and rice before shoving it in their little mouths.

I will miss the carers: the funny expressions they make, their singing. Their commitment to the children. The way they look at the water filter as if it came down from heaven. The words that they use to tell off the kids. The way they yell at Michael to open the gate.

I will miss Martin: his cheeky smile, the way he sucks his fingers and constantly smells like saliva. His long, curly eyelashes and the way he bats them at you for attention. The noise he makes when he doesn't get his way. The claw. The way he speaks English and tells me he lubs me. His crazy dance and how he shakes his Kenyan booty. The way he sticks his butt out at you when you dry him with a towel. The way his face looks when I close the door, after putting him to sleep.

Saying goodbye....

They all asked 'What's wrong?', as tears rolled down my cheeks. The children did not know what to do, since they are usually the ones crying. Martin comforted me by putting his head on my shoulder. I said goodbye to each one of them as they squeezed in the boot of the car to go to school. Martin was the last one in and the carers told him that i would not be here when they returned home from school.

He was too shocked to say anything. I will never forget the look on his face...

Well, that was it.  Two months of learning, loving and sharing that I will never forget. 

Now, i'm back in Nairobi and will hop on a plane tonight to fly home. The journey will be long and lonely, especially without the kids.

It has been nice sharing all these stories and experiences with everyone who still reads this blog. I know that it is much easier for me to put it down in words than to share with each one of you what happened here in Kenya. 

I look forward to seeing everyone again, but please be mindful that I will be in more of a culture shock returning to Sydney since I'm so used to life in Africa. I may also find it very difficult at first to explain or share with you everything that happened in the last two months, so please be patient.


But if there is one thing that you should know now, it is that these kids have changed my life.

Top moments

Not long until I leave SABACH for Nairobi before returning home...

Since I've been here, I have started a list of most memorable or funny moments here SABACH.

Some of them are just moments that you have to be there for them to be funny, but I'm sure if you ask me about them when I get home I can give you more details!

1) Seeing the boys pee outside for the first time.
2) Evan's head down the toilet while being flushed by Martin
3) One of the boys peeing on Tabitha's butt while she was sitting on the toilet
4) Joshua running around in a pink skirt and then later on in Irene's high heels
5) Putting the older boys to sleep every night
6) Good night kisses
7) Timo dancing and singing to Father Abraham
8) The children scared to death at the chickens while eating lunch outside
9) Listening to all the children take turns singing 'Father Ab-blah-ham'
10) Hugging Timo
11) Moses and David falling asleep at their own birthday party
12) Children saying 'sorly' when they do something wrong
13) Bianca 'manually' flushing the toilet
14) Nude karate (not us!)
15) Martin and the 'claw'
16) Andrew and Timo saying 'bye' to us as they walked off with their buckets and bags, then saying 'Habari' to us
17) Moses saying 'Hakuna sticker for Angie'
18) Freshia preaching to the kids with a 'bible' and making an example out of Martin, saying that people like him who don't listen will go to jail.

Funny moment with Moses

Our Swahili is not that great, but we know bits and pieces. Eg. Come here, stop it, sit down, stand up etc.

Usually, when we do homework or colouring in with the kids, we bribe them with stickers.

I would usually say `Hakuna sticker for _____`. (Hakuna = no). It usually works quite well with most of the kids responding with `Sorly`and returning back to their work.

The other day I was colouring in with Moses. He loves to talk.

The first thing he said to me was: `Hakuna sticker for Angie!`

Canadians, doctors & shoes

A lot of things happened since Hell last week. So in a nutshell...

Thursday

Everyone was extremely busy preparing the entire house for the visit of 45 Canadians. The floors were scrubbed twice, kilos and kilos of rice sorted, the best clothes were selected for the kids and someone even came to do the girls' hair. On top of all this, we had a surprise visit in the afternoon by students from Nakuru Medical College. There were so many of them that all the kids freaked out. They were all very friendly, especially the guys. (Waltraud and I were proposed to once or twice).

Medical students handing over a gift to Irene

Friday

The Canadians have been sponsoring and supporting some of the children at SABACH and visit them every year. They also have other projects/homes that they are involved in. There was also a medical team who came to do check ups on all the kids. We turned the house in to a surgery and had a reception, doctor's room and pharmacy area too!

The staff were also allowed to invite their families for the free service. Some of the kids loved it and some of them hated it. Martin started crying when they took off his shoes to measure his height. I think he thought that they were going to steal them.

Auntie Flo & Mercy with the nurse

Kush being examined

Joshua being examined by Dr.

Saturday
Since there was a big turnout of patients from the previous day, the medical team didn't get the chance to see everyone so had to return for a couple of hours. Plus, a paediatrician came to follow up on some of the kids who had special medical problems.

One of the Canadian families also returned to take the kids shoe shopping in town! We piled everyone in to a safari van (20 kids & 10 adults). When we got in to town everyone was holding at least one person's hand. When we got in to the store, we had two people stand guard at the door just in case someone decided to run out. It was really past their nap time, so the kids were really tired, but still excited to be getting new shoes.

Let's go shoe shopping!

The children confused at the foot measurer

Shoe shopping is tiring...

Other cool photos from the weekend:

Since I  had Timo and Maggie on my side (the lightest ones), I needed some help from Michael and the girls.

Baby Esther in her first car ride

Timo, Me & Mags

Stuck in hell

Warning: this entry is extremely long, so if you intend to read it I suggest you make a cup of tea or even better still some chai!


Yesterday has been by far the most interesting day off we've had so far! A day of adventure and exploitation...

We left home around 8am for Hell's Gate National Park in Naivasha. Not long after we set out, we bumped in to a passerby asking to promote his CD. His name was Sandy. I politely declined and as he started walking off I asked him how to get to Hell's Gate NP. I felt a little rude since I needed his help, but did not buy his CD. He was nonetheless very helpful and took us to the matatu station in town, where there were about 70 matatus waiting for business. As usual, everyone shook our hands as we walked by, calling us random Kiswahili names. (Most of the time we had no idea what they were saying, but then again it was better not to). We bought out tickets for 150ksh ($1.85) and said goodbye to our first friend for the day.

Naivasha is an agricultural town and a convenient base for tourists but nothing more than that. In Nakuru it's not impossible for us to spot another mizungu now and then, but in Naivaisha we were alone. The matatu station there was smaller than the one in Nakuru, but 10 times more chaotic.

Before we even got off, two motorbikes had pulled next to us offering us rides to wherever we needed to go. We, of course had no idea where to go from here on and our driver conveniently told us that he would be happy to drive us to the main gate of the park. We were extremely happy about this until he told us it was 1,500ksh ($18.60) for the 22km trip for all of us. (The trip from Nakuru was 70km). We were outraged but did not have much choice as he started driving to the park anyway. In the end we managed to bargain the price down to 1,200ksh ($14.90). He even got a friend to hop in the front to give us a ‘tour’ by pointing out lodges, banks and basically anything.

At Hell’s Gate the park entry fee was 2,050ksh ($25.00) each and bike hire for the day was 500ksh. I had a bit of trouble finding the right size bike since they were all so big, but managed to steal Waltraud’s one off her. I was surprised at the condition of the bikes. They were pretty good.  After hopping on, I decided it’s been about 10 years since I last rode a bike. So it took a little adjusting, but off we went! It was about 10 metres or so when I realised that my bike was squeaky and in desperate need of some WD40.


The unique thing about Hell’s Gate is that you can ride through the park unguided. I cannot even begin to describe the experience. It’s so much different being on ground level with the animals, rather than in a vehicle or up high. Your senses are heightened and knowing that lions, cheetahs and leopards are unheard of makes the whole experience that much more exciting! The scenery is very dramatic, with rich ochre soils and savannah grass squeezed between looming cliffs of rusty columnar basalt (compliments of LP). You feel so tiny and insignificant.

Journey through hell

Our first stop was at Fisher’s Tower (named after some German dude who got massacred by the Masai in the 1800s). There was a school group there and again, we were more photographed than the tower itself. There was even a school student taking a video of us for a really long time. Hm... it was kind of strange.

Fischer's Tower - a 25m volcanic plug, all that remains of an ancient volcano

We then headed for the Central Tower which was roughly a 6km ride. The road was bumpy and I could tell I was going to get a sore butt by the end of the day. We arrived at a picnic site where we rested and ate the little food that we had (apples & cookies). A friendly ranger woman came up to us and asked us whether we wanted to do the Gorge Walk. Of course it was another 1,000ksh ($12.40) for the three of us. (One thing that I will never miss in Kenya is the extra charges that you get hit everywhere). We decided to cough it up and go.

Central tower - larger volcanic plug which leads to the Lower Gorge

Our guide was Joe. He raced ahead of us jumping down the cliffs, whilst wearing sandals and holding a walking stick (more like half a curtain rod). It wasn’t long until we found out that he was a Masai. No wonder!!

Joe showing us how easy it is

The Ol Njorowa (Hell’s Gate Gorge) was a really awesome walk and I’m so glad that we did it. It’s basically a narrow sandstone ravine sculpted by water and there are these cool shadows everywhere casted from the sunlight. Several movies have been filmed here including, Lara Croft Tomb Raider: Cradle to the Grave.

Inside Hell

Angelina Jolie: Cradle to the Grave

Although the descent was steep, I was amazed to see the same school group at the bottom of the gorge. We had lots of fun climbing up and down rocks and getting wet from the cold and hot springs. I also really admired Joe’s poise and agility. He was walking and climbing cliffs with such elegance and speed. A true masai warrior!

Masai warrior at work

At the end of the walk, we had the choice of taking the exit back up or going for the ‘long walk’ to some thermal springs. 30 minutes there and 30 minutes back. That‘s what Joe said. It probably would’ve been a perfect day if we had gone back, but we decided to go on.

The first 15 minutes of the walk was fairly pleasant as we traversed over flat plains and streams of water. The only problem was trying to keep our feet from being wet. After that it was a different story. The descent was really steep and the whole time I was thinking about the return journey of having to climb up these hills. It was another 30 minutes before we reached the thermal springs. Like all other thermal springs, it was hot and smelt like rotten eggs. By this stage, I was really over it and just wanted to get back.

Joe said getting back was easier as we would know where to go. Ha! Easy for the masai warrior to say. Walking back, it truly felt like we were in hell. The sun was at its strongest and there was barely any shade. We were burning from the heat above and below us. I could not even bare to think about getting back on the bikes.




The 'long walk'


Joe and Waltraud were at full steam ahead and often had to stop to wait for us. Eva and I were struggling so much we couldn’t help but laugh at how steep the climb was and how much further we had to go. Every now and then we would stop to rest behind a tree when Joe wasn’t looking, but most of the time he was too busy showing Waltraud some special plants that the Masais use to rub under their armpits to keep the animals from tracking them.


In total, it took us 1 hour and 45 minutes for the ‘long walk’. Obviously, it only took 1 hour for Joe, not for us. At the last viewpoint of the gorge, it was amazing to see how much we had walked. I would never have even dreamed of doing it, but somehow I survived.

Hell

We must have looked so buggard by the time we reached the picnic site because Joe told us he had arranged for us to get a lift back to the gate, so we didn’t have to ride our bikes back. I was so relieved!! We were so tired that we didn’t even care when he told us that it was another 1,000ksh ($12.40) for the ‘long walk’.

Out of hell

His friends Jack and Jarrad pulled up in a van to take us to the gate. We were all wondering how much we had to pay for the ride. In the end we didn’t have to pay anything. Instead, Jack wanted to stay ‘in contact’ with us, so we politely exchanged numbers. Joe hailed down a matatu for us and assured us it would only be 50ksh ($0.62) each to Naivasha town (I CANNOT believe we paid 1,200ksh for the journey there). After paying we noticed that everyone else was paying 30ksh.


As soon as we got off, I was determined to find the same shuttle company, but we had no choice. We were flogged by matatu hawkers. One guy told me it was 300ksh each for the ride to Nakuru. I told him we only paid 150ksh on the way there so he quickly wrote me a receipt for 150ksh. We quickly hopped on the ‘shuttle’, relieved that it was all over. Half an hour in to the ride, we realised it was not the same express shuttle that we had taken before. Instead it was an average matatu that kept stopping and waiting until it was full before continuing. The journey took nearly twice as long, which also meant that there was no way it should’ve cost us 150ksh each. Ripped off again!


It was just not our day!


All in all, we paid about 4,000ksh for a day that should have cost us 3,000ksh. It may not seem like that much money, but to put it in to perspective it’s roughly the same amount as a month’s wage for a carer here at SABACH.


Nonetheless, it was an unforgettable day and lots of lessons learnt!
1) Everything in Kenya is dirty
2) Everything in Kenya is slow
3) Nothing in Kenya is for free

My hair salon experience

(Finally, got my memory card back so here goes)


All I have to say is that it was the most painful experience of my life.

How does it work?

You choose the style you want. In my case, I had 'twists' done.

You also have to choose the colour and length of the extensions. These are primarily used to keep your hair in place, especially for us westerners, since our hair is much more slippery. Initially, I did not want long hair, but it was too hard explaining it to them so I went with it.

After your selection, they prop you in a plastic chair outside their shop (it's more like an alley way) and three women start pulling and prodding at your hair. They start at the bottom and make their way up, so all of us had a 'high bun'. At first, it was  quite amusing. Waltraud and I could not stop laughing and kept taking photos of each other, but not for long...

The beginning....

It's so hard to describe the sensation of the pain. You really just have to experience it for yourself. You have three women pulling and twisting your hair in different directions. They fold the extensions in the root of your hair and start twisting as much as they can. Obviously, you canot

Once they are twisted, another woman comes up with a chair, rolls up her skirt and puts her thigh up against your chair. She rubs vaseline on her thigh, picks up each 'twist' and starts to roll it on her thigh. Meanwhile, you still have the other women pulling and twisting your hair. There is nowhere for you to move and it was so painful!!!

Waltraud's hair being twisted

Twisties

The lack of personal space was the worst bit. You couldn't breathe since you had all this extra hair everywhere and all the women would be standing around, blocking out any air. As the twisting got higher, the worst the pain. There was about 2 hours straight where I was in constant pain. I nearly cried.

To top it all off, since I had so much hair, I had to get more twists done. I went through six packets of extensions and the other girls finished about 45 minutes earlier than I did. Even though I didn't really know what they were saying, I could tell that the hair dressers were laughing at us and also very annoyed as I kept moving all the time.

Me in pain & very over it.

After about five hours, they dip all the hair in boiling hot water to soften it (also very painful), since most of the hair is plastic, it's quite course.

By the time we left the salon, it was too late to head back to Nakuru.

So that was my Kenyan hair experience! Apparently if I look after it properly it should stay in for 6 weeks, so i am trying my best so I can wear it home to show you guys!

End result