Where does the time go???

I was doing such a good job of blogging (by my standards anyway...which are quite low when it comes to blogging) and then all of a sudden it's been 10 days since my last post. Sorry Per! Anyway, I have been busy with project stuff and unfortunately wasn't feeling too great last week, but all is well now.

For the past week or so we've been working on data collection. We went with a couple community health workers to do home visits. It's amazing how people just invite you into their home when you show up on their doorstep unannounced. I certainly wouldn't do that at my house in the Wedg. We wandered the hillside and met with women and their children. I got harrassed by a bunch of electrical workers since everyone seems to think that yelling "Mazungo" (whitey) is completely appropriate whenever I pass. I guess political correctness hasn't reached Kenya. We ate matoke (basically mashed cooked bananas) at one of the CHWs houses. I must say, I felt a sense of accomplishment since I don't like bananas but managed to finish my whole heaping pile food. Everyone (except the person who provided our lunch of course who remained oblivious to my plight) was laughing as I choked them down with my water bottle always in hand.

We also had a couple community meetings with mums and community health workers. We did some focus groups and surveys. We also did a bit of health teaching. Unfortunately, no one seems to understand me, even English is the national language. Generally speaking though, people peak Swahilli and whatever their native dialect is. Anyway, apparently they say I talk out of my nose rather than my mouth. They say all americans do. Aw well, I keep trying and they all keep politely nodding their heads at me with completely expressionless faces...until someone translates.

Some traditional birth attendants we met told us about boiling blood to give to pregnant women who eat soil. Sort of amazing that they figured out a treatment that works...obviously it's like that throughout history. Eating soil is called pica and you have it when you are anemic...hence the blood as a treatment. We encouraged them to send the women to hosptial for iron pills though. They were an intersting group of women and open to share. They are really working for the safety of the women they care for which is great though occasionally misguided.

Well, that about sums up what we been doing for data collection. In other news, I got scolded (sort of not really) for running in the rain. It rains warm big buckets from 4-5 every day. Most people flee to whatever shelter they can find, including, incidentally, semi truck wheel wells which I realized as I was running by and they were yelling at me to come and sit with them. Apparently people here don't like the rain and think it's dirty. I enjoyed it.

We also went for a little night time stroll with the public health officer and a pastor who I realized, in hindsight, was probably brought along as a guard of sorts...he's a big broad shouldered man. When we first got to Kisii and were trying to decide on a topic, Kapar (the public health officer), informed us about how prostitution is a huge problem in Kisii. Being that I'm all about empowering women and girls, I immediately started asking how old they are, if they are trafficked, would they be possible to work with etc etc. I was told by my program mentor that working with these girls was not an option (enter sad face from me) but, Kapar did agree to take us for a walk. Let me tell you, it is sad. They are YOUNG, probably 14-18 year old, though I'm sure they lie about their ages. They are everywhere at night, incredibly friendly and are more than willing to talk, though I doubt much of what they say (at least when it comes to identifying info) is true. They get paid 100 shillings, about $1.20, for each guy they are with and they organize themselves into little unions to protect each other. They pay the street boys to be their security guards and look after them. Many are pregnant or have kids and many are elder siblings trying to provide for their younger sibs. Some have parents, who of course don't know how they make the money they bring home for the family, and some are married...or were married too young and ended up without options. It was quite interesting and eye-opening, but even more so, it was incredibly sad. We even went to a brothel which is apparently busier during the day than at night since at night they are out on the streets. It was just off the main road, up a few stairs and all there was were tiny rooms with animal print walls (zebra) and a small bed with animal print bed spread...I felt so dirty and disgusting just being there. Kapar, our guide, has been reaching out to he community for about 10 years or so trying to provide harm reduction strategies. He knows many of them and they all know him which is why we were allowed to see the brothel and talk with the girls. He works out of a one room office where 5-6 staff members work and spends his time on a wide range of public health projects from water quality, to child prostitution, to street boys to sanitation and community health worker programs...and still had the time to take us on a tour and have a cup of tea. It's impressive. The people working for others here are generally, very impressive!

Ok, here's some picts. (None of our night time stroll though as I didn't take my camera which made all the girls were quite sad as they all wanted a picture with me and my long soft hair...I've never had so many people hug me and pet my hair.)