Radio Free Kenya

October 11. The morning after a three-day weekend here in Kenya. Yesterday
was "ten-ten," Moi Day, the day former President Moi came to power more than
20 years ago, and possibly the last Moi Day this country will ever
celebrate, if the proposed Constitution is passed, which eliminates public
holidays for individual Presidents and replaces it with the all-encompassing
"Hero's Day." Anyway, that was just about the most boring piece of trivia
I've ever shared.

More interestingly, for you Africaphiles or political history buffs, the
former president of Uganda, Milton Obote, died yesterday at 80. The only
reason that is interesting to me, besides the fact that Uganda borders Kenya
and is notorious for having the highest number of coups in African history,
is because one of my Kenyan friends is named after him. My friend was born
on the same day that Obote came (back) into power in 1979, eight years after
he led Uganda to independence--and then was quickly overthrown. He was
quickly overthrown again the second time around and exiled to, um, let's
see...what did they say on the BBC again? Zambia? Public reaction to his
death is mixed in Uganda, with some people declaring him a hero whose body
should be returned to his homeland and others saying keep the traitorous
bugger out.

So what does all this mean? It means I got a (free) radio this weekend. BBC
IS MY BEST FRIEND!! It's my only link to the outside world aside from the
month-old Newsweeks the Peace Corps sends me every once in awhile. I haven't
figured out all the stations yet, but from a quick scan there's lots of
Christian reggae, a music station called Capital FM that plays a lot of
American music including Rick Dee's Weekly Top 40 on Saturdays, a station in
the local KiNandi language, and Kiswahili BBC that fortunately has English
BBC in the mornings.

Saturday I met up with some other PCVs in Eldoret. We drove to Mt. Elgon on
Sunday and hiked up to a couple of caves with waterfalls. It was beautiful,
but bat poop city. We saw a group of Hash Hound Harriers, that worldwide
network of drinkers with a running problem, although this particular chapter
didn't seem to have much of a running problem at all since they were mostly
sitting under the waterfalls cooling off. I cooked Chinese stir fry for
everyone Sunday night, which was a spectacular success, although we survived
a lot of drunken harrassment, attempted pickpocketing and one ass-grabbing
in order to gather the right ingredients at the market. Everytime stuff like
that happens I get out my Kiswahili dictionary and write down snappy
comebacks "for the next time." But as in all things in life, I've never
actually had the presence of mind to whip out a retort in the moment. For my
friend who had her ass grabbed, I wrote down, "Unataka mikono yangu inakatwa
kabisa? Halafu, usiniguze tena." You want your hands cut off? Then don't
touch me again. And the universally useful (and as yet never used), "Adabu
yako iko wapi?" Where are your manners?

I'm definitely beginning to show signs of being in Kenya for too long. I
remember the first week when we were on a bus in Nairobi, a fellow volunteer
tossed a passion fruit peel out the window. With full-on California
indignance, I was like, "Did you ACTUALLY just throw that out the window?"
Now, if it's biodegradable, it goes out the window.

October 13. Mail update: I think I've got the mail fiasco sorted out for
now. I've received everything sent from the U.S. to my village (box 159 and
the old one) so far, but there are a few packages sent to Nairobi that I'm
still trying to track down. Also, thanks to Phillippa for all the soap you
stole from Bangkok, the diskettes you stole (from you know where) and the
candy (also stolen?). This is not to imply that I don't appreciate
everything you sent. The less you spent the more proud of you I am. Also
send me your new mailing address, lady!

Well as some of you may know, the last two weeks have been a bit rough,
dealing with corrupt people in my community, nasty rumors about the
camera-happy mzungu, and a poisoned village doctor. Most everything has been
resolved and I am no longer hiding in my house or clinging to my counterpart
for moral support. I'm attending the burial for the doctor on Saturday with
my co-workers, and if it's anything like the burial I attended in Kitui I'm
prepared to be bored out of my gourd for about nine hours. In other news,
one of my hens hatched four chicks this weekend, and (as you've inferred
from above) my camera is working again. Unfortunately I have a new problem,
which is that the cost of printing photos from digital cameras is highway
robbery here - 120 shillings per print. 73 shillings = US$1.

Gotta run, the rains are coming. As they say here, I live in God's bathroom
and he likes to take showers in the afternoon.