No Thanks, I'm Full.

Week One

I'm not exactly sure where I left off last time, but I'm now at home. I am a part of the Wambua Justus Iluti Willy family. He is my Baba (father). I also have a Mama and 7 brothers and sisters. We've got a pretty sweet pad: 3 cows, a goat, a dog, lots of chickens. And we do have electricity; it is run off the car battery. We have a black and white TV. It really is a pretty swanky place compared to other places. Maybe I can get pictures some time.

The Choo

A.K.A. The Hole in the Ground A.K.A The Toilet. Apparently compared to all the other volunteers I am the choo master. I've got the squat down to a science already. It takes a little getting used to. Some time I'll show a picture and take people through the steps. Beware of going at night though, because the place is crawling with cockroaches. I call it the night club.

Food

The hardest part thus far has been the food. Not the taste, not the lack of food, but the abundance of food. Kenyans like people to be fat. It is a compliment to be called fat. It means you are healthy. So I get these ridiculously large portions of food and am expected to eat all of it or it would be considered rude. So every night I basically feel like I'm going to vomit because I'm trying to stuff so much food down my throat. It's the running joke that if you get in trouble in Kenya the punishment isn't going to bed without supper it is going to bed with double supper. The first night I thought my plate was the serving plate because there was so much food on it. So nobody needs to worry about me getting thin.

And the beat goes on...