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Ramblings
By Harmony | May 28, 2009 | 7:35 pm
I’m going to party it up in Mombasa this weekend. The problem is, I have nothing to wear. I’ve spent the last 6 months tearing, staining, and stretching out my clothes in an attempt to better integrate into my community (or perhaps I’m just really clumsy and sloppy and bad at hand washing). All I own are tee shirts and long cotton skirts, to sufficiently cover any potentially sexy area of my body. I like this mode of dress because by essentially looking the same every day, I can effectively wear the same clothes several days in a row without anyone noticing. It cuts down on laundry, and allows me to be a bit less conspicuous, if that is even possible in a village where I am the only white person around.
I am feeling so damn frumpy these days. Gone are the American luxuries that I brought with me to Kenya, like my $20 bath soap and $30 bottles of shampoo and conditioner. Nowadays, I use a $3 3-in-1 bottle of hair soap (cleans, moisturizes, and detangles, it claims), which leaves my hair dull and feeling inadequately washed. Rinsing with dirty bucket bath water doesn’t help. I’m ashamed to say that I’ve only shaved three times since I arrived in Kenya last November. I spend my days walking around town, covered with clothes from head to toe, with hairy legs and wiry hair and no makeup on. Kinda like Susan Boyle, except I can’t even sing.
The truth is, I want to feel like a woman again. I want to get out on the dance floor this weekend, wearing a skirt above the knees and a shirt that reveals my shoulders. I want to get dolled up with makeup and hairspray. I want to wear sexy shoes, wrapped around my soft, newly-pedicured feet. I want people to look at me and say, “Wow, Harmony, lookin’ good!”
So back to the clothes problem. I don’t have any of these things in my closet. And I’m working in a rural village, far from any place where I could procure such items. I’ve run out of time. And of course, I’m a volunteer living on a shoestring budget, so new clothes are out of the idea, anyway. I suppose there is nothing I can do about it now. But I think I need to seriously consider getting a clubbing outfit. I think it would do my ego some good.
In other news, it’s been an odd week. I am feeling a bit rebellious. In America, my work was centered around objectives; there was an end goal in mind, and I had to achieve that goal by any means necessary, usually within a certain period of time. Here, my work is centered around tasks; I wait around for my supervisor to assign me some piddly little work to pass the time, and then I play solitaire for a couple hours until she can find something else for me to do. Today, when the power went out (as it does on Thursdays), I couldn’t use my laptop to do my assigned work any longer. I packed my things and told her that I refused to sit idle anymore - that I was going back to my room to work on my lesson plan for Friday’s computer class. She looked a little surprised, but let me go.
I think I need to sit down and have a talk with her. I’m just not happy doing it this way. I can be far more productive if I’m given objectives instead of tasks, and a little autonomy. I’ve already drafted a work plan, since everything in Kenya seems to be centered around official reports and plans and paperwork. I guess I’m afraid to approach her about it, since she is not only by counterpart but my only real friend in this village. I don’t want to hurt her feelings.
I need to find a way to improve my diet. With the exception of a small salad that I had last weekend at a mzungu bar in Diani Beach, I don’t think I’ve eaten a vegetable in over a month. I still have no way to cook for myself. I have been subsisting on ramen and peanuts and chapati. Today, when the power went out, I realized how vulnerable I am, since I can’t make ramen without hot water, which I usually make with the help of an electric kettle.
My problem lies in a propane tank. They are not allowed on matatus here (my only source of transportation), so I must rely on the kindness of the person in my village with a private car. Except he left for the UK on business. So I wait patiently for his return, hoping he’s not too busy to help me procure this one thing I really need for proper survival. Oh, and he owes me a paint job and termite extermination, but that’s another headache and another story altogether.
I’m kinda cranky right now. I think I woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. My room is quite comfortable between the hours of 5:00 am (the first call to prayer) and 8:00 am, which makes it very hard to get up for work. I don’t set an alarm here, but inevitably, every morning, I’m jolted awake by the screams of wailing babies. In fact, there are exactly two things that I lack here in Kenya, that I miss much more than American food, American movies, American conveniences, or American company. It’s PEACE and PRIVACY.
There is no such thing as quiet here, ever. No escaping the noises of radios, meowing cats, livestock, wailing babies, and people pounding away at their work. Even in the dead of the night, the animals and insects pierce the midnight air with their sounds. And I can’t seem to get any time truly alone. No matter where I go, even within the comfort of my own 10 foot by 10 foot room, I always have someone (usually a child) following me, peeking through my window, or knocking on my door. I am the curious mzungu, a freak show in this homogeneous community of Digo people. I miss the anonymity of the American suburbs.
Maybe this weekend will loosen me up a bit. Before I joined the Peace Corps, I always thought that I would be the kind of person to isolate myself from other volunteers and become a “site rat.” But I find that being around other PCVs who are experiencing the same problems and feelings that I am bring me great comfort. I enjoy being in their company, doing typically American things, like lounging on the beach and dancing at a night club. It should be a fun night.
Topics: Settling In |