"Culture Shock" is Putting it Mildly...

Someone told Seth and I about a Masai market that was being held in Langata and we decided to venture out.   We left our armed-guard gated community, manicured lawns, swimming pool, tennis courts, and commissary (where a bag of Doritoes is $7 but still REAL Doritoes!) and headed into the unknown with nothing but high hopes and a map.  It's important that you know that the "roads" here often change names, end up somewhere other than where the map tells you, or are simply not on the map at all.  HUGE kudos to Seth for getting us there!


I always thought that our surrounding community, Runda, was nice but far from modern.  We have a small shopping mall called "Village Market" that has a grocery store/department store, shoe store, a few restaurants, and even a movie theater.  While it certainly isn't Tyson's Corner, you can get what you need for around the house and even grab a bite to eat...just pick a place with lots of Westerners so you know the food is safe!

Was I in for a surprise then when Seth and I passed the mall, the farthest out I have been thus far, and hit the dirt roads. There were people walking along the sides of the roads dressed in their Sunday best, holding their children's hands and heading from church to visit family on their day off.  There were women with baskets on their heads coming back from the market.  The landscape was BEAUTIFUL...rolling mountains, acacia trees, palms, lush forests, the occasional cow or donkey eating grass...there were areas that are straight out of a National Geographic magazine.  And then, I started to notice trash lining the sides of the roads. The roads soon became filled with people going to their "Village Market."  We were in the slums of Kenya--shacks that claimed to be hotels and restaurants, butcher shops with dead things hanging in them no person should eat (there were definitely no health department regs there!), bars that sold Guiness but were propped up on sticks to stay upright.  Barefoot children rummaging through trash piles that goats were eating from.  I couldn't help but look back at sleeping Claire safe in her overpriced but incredibly safe car seat while  babies were strapped to the back of their parents motorcycles.  I was overwhelmed.  It was the first time that I realized, excuse the language, Holy Shit..we are in AFRICA.  We drove through many more of these shanty towns before arriving at the market.  The market itself was beautiful with many wonderful things to look at.  But I could NOT get what I had seen out of my head.


My brother in law, Kyle, likes to tease me, and has asked Seth if I have stopped crying yet since we left the states.  Truth be told, I really haven't cried  much--and that's impressive for those of you who know me!  I am homesick, yes.  I miss my family and friends more than I can say.  But I have also decided to embrace this experience and get everything I can out of these two years here.  BUT I did cry later on after we got home--I went and took a bath in our huge oversized tub (another luxury I have here) and just cried.  I don't know if it is the teacher in me or if I am just getting softer now that I am a mom, but I just kept thinking about all those children rummaging through TRASH, looking for God knows what, and all the wasted potential that we left behind in those slums.  What will become of those kids?  Will they go to school?  Is one of them bright enough to be a doctor but will end up pulling a donkey up and down hills trying to sell firewood to people who don't need it? Such a waste of so much potential...breaks my heart.