Final Retreat

That would be an epic name for a song. Maybe. I may or may not be listening to Muse right now.

But the blog will be not so epic. I will try to convey my excitement at what I saw and heard this past week on what was our final big fellowship and reflection time as a body of Young Adult Volunteers in Kenya.
Last week Monday we left on a trip from Nairobi. Taking the route through the path in the rift valley we traveled so long ago in September when we went to Nakuru to about human origins in Kenya. Our last road trip together stopped mirroring our first as we cruised through Nakuru, headed for the Masai Mara. Also joining us were Josh's parents and cousin and Phyllis, her daughter and two of her friends. We arrived in time for a nice lunch buffet, the first of a few consecutive eating sprees for me.
Then was the game drive. We drove around in these white vans with fun little expandoroofs that pop right up so you can stand inside with a roof still over your head. As we drove out over the Savannah, standing in our iron cage, we greeted gazelle and taupi grazing opposite zebras. A few giraffes were around the next bend, and colorful birds occasionally nearly missed crashing into our vans. As we drove more, we saw a few vans clustered around a tree. Approaching the tree, we saw some action under it--some lions were eating a wildebeest. The carcass was mangled and barely recognizable, but one mother and many cubs were still munching. As we looked around, we saw three females and at least 14 cubs in the area, mostly sleeping or eating. Another rock a short drive away had two male lions pretty near a whole herd of buffalo, trying hard to nap with 30 tourists in 8 vans taking snaps of their yawns. One van got stuck going down through a creek--the opposite slope was too sandy, and their tires sank in and spun. The occupants got a great view of the lions. They were less than thirty feet from the lions as they sat stuck in the sand. One of the other vans came by to help tow them out, but first a few vans made a wall between the front of the stuck van and the one towing. The drivers got out and hooked up the tow rope. It broke, but the second rope succeeded, and the passage across the creek was open again and more foreigners could gaze at the resting cats.
We continued like this for a while until it was time to come back to the hotel for supper. The lodge had times for feeding various creatures--bush baby food attracted a black fuzzball every evening and a bag of scraps brought powerful jaws and reflective eyes as creepy as in lion king, if not as red or polygonal. Hyenas are terrifying creatures--just the wrong shape to be a dog, just the right stocky shape to crush bones instead of work around them. And creepy enough to love themselves for it. Some jackals and mongoose came in to clear their leavings.
The next morning was an elephant morning! We saw many of the giant grazers gathering leaves, washing, and covering themselves with dust. We also found a cheetah in the tall grass. Another proud animal (but less scary than brother hyena), its long, lean figure twitched majestically as it pranced away from the annoying vans. Our afternoon game drive only lasted long enough to go jaguar-searching. We had already seen three (lion, elephant, buffalo) of the big five (missing jaguar and black rhino). As we drove out to a good place to usually find them, we saw a van going the other way. Our driver asked theirs if there was a jaguar behind them. They said "Yes, but it's asleep." Curse my Vulcan hearing, the others in our van did not catch this exchange because of volume or because it was in Swahili. But I got really excited. And sure enough, when we parked next to a bush, we were told there's a jaguar in there. But it was hard to spot. It took a wind rattling the bush--the branches moved in a way the brown spotted coat behind them did not. There it was, peeking at us on a lazy afternoon before the rain. We headed back to the hotel again when it rained, not disappointed at the day's finds.
The next day we left for the village. We traveled to visit Professor Ogutu, a prominent man in his community who had spoken to us about ethnicity during orientation. We stayed at his home and ate delicious food, Kenyan and non-Kenyan. It was better than the delicious buffets we'd been having at the Mara Sopa Lodge. He put us in touch with the nearby school, where we met people and painted a classroom. We met with his family, with people from the community, people from church, and students and parents at the school. It was a beautiful time. We even painted a whole classroom, together with people there. We would not have finished without the help of a few dedicated staff people at the school. Some people had big brushes, some had small, but we all worked together to make a white classroom with a mural on one wall. Our mistake was possibly not doing a skirt. It's fashion here to have a brown or black strip at the bottom of a wall. It imitates baseboard a bit, I think, and collects dirt a lot less obviously than the white does. But we did not have any paint for that. It was also obvious that there were people there at the school who could paint as well as and better than any of us. So we were glad to work together with them. But after an evening and the following day, it was time to leave Friday morning. Back to Nairobi we went.
It was a good time of fellowship with ample opportunity to ask questions of ourselves, like "What does it mean to have lived and served for a year here?" "What does it mean to be almost done?" It seems real now that we're leaving soon. And I'm over the guilt of being excited to come home. That is silliness--my excitement to go home does not insult the wonderful Kenyan welcome and culture. So I am in limbo for a few more weeks. Still stuck between the already and the not yet, waiting but present, here but leaving, happy in two places.

Zanzibar

So, we had a weeklong retreat on the beautiful island of Zanzibar. Coming from an East African country where people will happily show you around town, but become very angry if you don't pay them afterward, we were welcomed to the island and shown to our hotel by a few guys who were just walking the same way. We stayed in lovely St. Monica's hostel, atop old slave chambers, two below-ground stone rooms where up to one hundred fifty slaves were housed before being sold in the adjacent market. The market, closed in 1863 at the urgings of Livingstone, is now a church of coral and lime. Made over a period of many years, the unskilled workers who began by installing some columns upside down, finished the cathedral with a clever, complex, arched roof. This was visible from our window and our balcony. Arab features accent many of the buildings there, swoops at the top of walls and keyhole-framed doors.
We had various activities--a spice tour, a round table discussion about Christian/Muslim relations on the island, a tour of the cathedral, and swimming with dolphins. They were all valuable experiences. The ITC group did prove to be good resources as we went. Having done some research, their special interest in HIV/AIDS was a keen aid to our discussions. They were all intelligent. We went our separate ways for most of the trip, but it was good to have some new people around to bounce ideas off of. We got to see and taste many spices at a spice farm. Cinnamon bark, cloves, jackfruit, peppercorns, and many more fruits and spices overwhelmed our tongues for an hour and a half as we walked around in the humidity. We then saw the sultan's baths, created for the sultan of Omar, who moved the capital to Zanzibar because he liked it so much. I probably would do that too. It was just a relaxing, welcoming place. Every beach we saw was picturesque, and most people we met were personable and easygoing.
More peaceful still were the dolphins. There is a place on the coast where dolphins are rather common early in the morning. So at 6:30, we left Stone Town, drove for an hour (on the way seeing some red colobus monkeys, the island's only "African wildlife" of note) to a beach on the southeast side of the island, grabbed some snorkel gear and two people to man the boat, and motored out into the blue Indian Ocean. Josh, with a year on the swim team, was in our boat as was Whitney, who doesn't usually like to touch water with anything higher than her calf, and Nicole, the one who had been pushing to "swim with dolphins" all week. We drove for a long time before seeing one fin peeking out of the water. The guides told us not to jump in yet. It was just one. Soon, we found a few. We saw them coming up for air together. Two or three fins broke the surface and dove again just below the surface. The guides said "This side!" and we jumped. Except Whitney. She watched. But she entered the water later. It was magical to swim ferociously, assisted by flippers, behind a dolphin lazily scooting through the water. A few times, I followed them as long as I had breath. I was not a huge fan of the snorkel tube. I just used the goggles. We came back tired and exhilarated by a powerful experience.
The islanders have not had power since December. All the businesses which need it use generators or have closed for the time until the mainland repairs the line. There were cheap places and touristy places side by side, and the touristy ones had lights on.
The lights stayed on all night the second night we stayed in Dar es Salaam. Having just returned from Zanzibar, we were tired, and we were grateful they left the generator on at the Kurasini Catholic Retreat Center--the heat was oppressive. The fan was only a minor consolation, but it was a help. We packed and prepared for return bus ride on Sunday Jan 17, which turned out to be not quite as long as the 16 hour trip we had endured on Monday. The next morning I left early for Gatundu to teach again. It is good to be back with our friends.