I woke up at 5:30 on Wednesday morning to walk Basil. At 5:45 I called Joerg to wake him up. Naddel is coming today! We packed a picnic and left for the first time around 6:00. True to form we forgot something and had to go back. I wonder what the guards at the front gate think of us. Naddel was coming on a Lufthansa cargo flight from Germany, but not until 11:00am. Rather than sitting in traffic for 2 hours to get to the airport at that time, we had decided to leave much earlier and drive through Nairobi National Park, which has a gate very close to the airport.
Surprising enough, you can drive into downtown Nairobi, narrowly miss multiple car accidents, choke on dust and exhaust, navigate one rotary after another, and then take a left hand turn and find yourself in the pristine wilderness of Nairobi National Park. And on an early Wednesday morning you have it almost all to yourself.
We drove down to an overlook with buffalo grazing below. In the distance there were also zebra, hartabeast, ostrich, and the Nairobi skyline. We got out of the car a little later to hike closer to an eagle and its prey (another smaller bird). We didn't go far because Joerg was worried about lions, and I was already finding ticks on my feet.
Next we stopped at a picnic area to eat breakfast, but first I had to chase the zebras. I just wanted to run with them. They didn't let me get very close. When I stopped they gave me a look that said "what the hell?" and I felt kind of bad. I wanted them to like me. But Joerg assured me that they hadn't liked me to begin with so there was really nothing to lose.
We drove on, hoping in vain to see a lion or an elusive black rhino. Mostly we just stopped to see birds, but there were other animals as well. The grass was tall enough after the rains to hide many of them. I was staring out my window when I heard Joerg squeal "Lion! Lion! Look, right there!". And sure enough, there she was. Holy shit. Only yards from our car. She came slowly to the side of the road, mouth open, calmly surveying the grass in front of her. She seemed to ignore us completely. Joerg took pictures while I tried to catch my breath. She was so amazing. She sauntered into the road, stopped to pose for a few shots, and then crossed to the other side. I had the camera at that point, so I could see her from an even closer perspective. A car came towards us but the lioness was in the tall grass at the side and they didn't see her. We didn't stop them. We watched her as she slowly disappeared into the tall grass. My heart was still thumping in my chest.
We finished out the morning with a few more bird sightings, and even a rhino way out in the bushes. I climbed on top of the car to get a better look. I was not about to chase after him, although Joerg said he would take more pictures if I did. On our little detour to the airport and in only a few hours we had seen so much amazing wildlife. But now it was time to get down to the business of the day and go find Naddel!
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Monday, July 6, 2009
Naddel Vom Theelshof
(this should be after Nairobi National Park, I'm not sure why it is here)
We drove into the airport to pick up Naddel, knowing we had to go to the cargo terminal. After trying to interpret directions from at least 3 people, all of which included vague hand gestures and words like 'there' or 'that way', we turned down a road in the most likely direction. Finally we found the terminal. At the gate we were asked to get out of the car so they could search us. Hmm. I had no idea it would be this secure. I hadn't even brought my ID. After being frisked by a woman who was clearly not very excited about her job, I played dumb when they asked me for my ID. As Joerg waved his UN passport and said I was with him, I jumped back in the car.
We drove into the airport to pick up Naddel, knowing we had to go to the cargo terminal. After trying to interpret directions from at least 3 people, all of which included vague hand gestures and words like 'there' or 'that way', we turned down a road in the most likely direction. Finally we found the terminal. At the gate we were asked to get out of the car so they could search us. Hmm. I had no idea it would be this secure. I hadn't even brought my ID. After being frisked by a woman who was clearly not very excited about her job, I played dumb when they asked me for my ID. As Joerg waved his UN passport and said I was with him, I jumped back in the car.
After we parked we went back to the gate and signed in. Nothing was said about visitors passes. We walked toward the main office, and a man who was just standing outside came up to us smiling and asked if he could help. Joerg was so excited he just yelped "I'm here to get my dog! Where is she?". The man gave us a look indicating that he understood completely, and proceeded to run us to about 5 different locations all over the terminal. Joerg greeted everyone with a huge smile and "I want my dog! Where is she?", but no progress was made. Soon we understood a) our guide had no idea what he was doing, and b) he was going to want money. He took us upstairs to talk to a Lufthansa representative who was very helpful, and just as we were coming back down the stairs she called us back up. At this point we were running. When we got back to her desk she called out the man who had been "helping us" and told him that he should tell us up front what he was going to charge before we continued. It turns out he wanted a minimum of $100. This seemed absurd. How hard could it be to pick up your dog? We said sorry, but no thanks and went down to figure things out.
In the main office, where we would have gone if no one had intercepted us, we were told that the plane had not yet arrived. We had seen it land. We pestered them a little more and suddenly it was there, but the dog was not ready yet. They were still waiting for her to be processed and for the paperwork to be sent up. They estimated that would take at least an hour. Someone told us we could get coffee somewhere (again vague hand gestures). The next person we talked to about a place to sit and eat just laughed and shook his head. We walked down to the end of the terminal to see if we could spot her somewhere. A man on a forklift stopped us and asked us for our visitor badges. Huh? We don't have those. This was not good news, and resulted in us being half-heartedly searched again. Once more I didn't have any ID, so I hid behind Joerg as he flashed his UN passport. We decided at that point that I would be his wife from now on if anyone asked, and that we needed to get some visitor passes.
Back at the main gate they told us they were out of passes. They gave me a funny look when I explained that we were being searched and interrogated for not having them, and finally one guard walked across the parking lot to the other gate to get some. We waited around for the paperwork, and eventually it came. We went upstairs to speak to a customs official, and after Joerg flirted a little with the receptionist we were allowed into his office. He looked over the paperwork as if he knew what it all was, asked a few questions, and then told Joerg he would tax his dog as if she were worth $1000. Fine, whatever, please can we go now. As we were trying to decipher various suggestions on where to go next and who to pay what, a nice gentleman who Joerg had been joking with offered to help us free of charge. He led us out of the terminal, through another gate, and into another parking/building area where the vet office was. As we approached the building we heard pitiful howling coming from within. That's her!
Inside her crate and behind metal bars sat Naddel. When she saw Joerg running towards her the whole box shook and more heart-wrenching yowls came forth. I sat with her and tried to calm her down through the bars while he went to get his health certificate stamped. She was biting and scratching at the bars with all her might. My heart broke a little. He had to go back to get other papers signed so I said I would stay with her. After about a minute I couldn't take it anymore and crawled in the kennel with her so I could let her out of the crate. That wasn't good enough, she wanted Joerg, she wanted out! A woman came into the holding area and asked me if everything was ok. I explained what I was doing and asked her if I could walk Naddel around. "Of course" she said, "she probably has to relieve herself". Indeed she did. It had been a long trip.
Naddel and I walked around the holding area, got a big drink of water, and waited for Joerg to get back. I suspected she was hungry when she started eating grass and rocks. Eventually I called Joerg and he said he would be half an hour. One hour later he was back. Naddel exploded into a writhing frenzy of licks, squeaks, and wiggles. She clearly remembered him. So, was everything all set? Hah. There was another office he had to go to, and it would not even be open for another half hour. Ugh. I saw his stack of paperwork and receipts, and it looked like he had been stamped, taxed, and charged by at least 6 different offices.We sat in the doorway and Naddel fell asleep on his fleece. When he had to leave again she cried but then went back to bed.
All in all it took about 5 hourse to get Naddel out of the airport. I held her on my lap the whole way home, and she struggled to stay awake. Joerg struggled to keep his eyes on the road. We hit the evening traffic, so many of the street vendors had a chance to meet Naddel through the window. They were very intrigued by a person holding a dog, and such a funny looking one! One of the guys said she reminded him of a goat.
Naddel (aka susse maus, kleine madchen, leibsein, feine hund) has been here for almost one week now. It took her a few days not to cry when Joerg left the house, but either Cassandra, the maid, or I was always there to watch her (the maid has been hired full time to watch the dog). She is unbelievably cute, very well behaved (except when Joerg is teaching her how to bite my leg and chew on my skirt), and one of the warmest and cutest cuddlers ever. Joerg let me sleep with her all night on Monday! Definitely adorable. And she can do no wrong. She has huge soft ears, a long nose (which Joerg "loves every millimeter of"), and long gangly legs. She points at birds and bugs. She eats purina puppy food, jerky, carrots, oats, beef bones, beef heart, tripe (which is rumen by the way...who knew?), chocolate, cheese, sausage, and anything else Joerg thinks she might like. So spoiled. So worthy though. I am going to miss her a lot.
(for pictures go to http://www.picasaweb.google.com/julia.littell)
Waiting for Naddel
It was back to work on Monday, only I didn't have any work to do. Time was dragging on and we were all looking forward to the arrival of Naddel, Joerg's new German Shorthair Pointer. I had completed a chunk of my project and was awaiting further instructions. I have been working on samples that were collected a few years ago. After we made a plan, we realized that the samples I needed were never actually obtained. Post election violence a few years ago had suspended the project so only 30 of my 80 calves had blood samples taken at 6 and 11 weeks of age. Grrr. I was disappointed but there wasn't much we could do about it. So I am looking at those 30 calves now as the next step.
We went running as usual, and as I completed the hill I saw a little girl running down the road, crying her eyes out. People were looking at her wondering if they should do something, and I wasn't sure she would understand me if I talked to her. I followed her towards Judy, my running team captain, who thankfully stopped to help her. It turns out she was lost. Her family had moved the day before and she couldn't remember how to get home. She was only 5 years old! She had walked about a mile from school trying to find her way. The poor thing. Judy calmed her down, took her hand, and walked her back to school where her siblings were still in class.
I spent a lot of time with Basil, my dirty dalmation friend. One morning we found a small heard of loose goats by the cow barn. I tried to grab him but he saw them too and ran off towards them. Crap! He is going to kill a goat. But he just wanted to chase them, and even that was short lived when his energy burst ran out and his hip dysplasia kicked in. Whew. That afternoon I laid in the sun with Basil in the backyard, but it made no difference to my pasty whiteness. When I went inside, Basil wanted to follow me. He is supposed to stay outside all the time. But I was lonely and any dog who begs to be let up on the couch by wagging his paws in the air has been there before. So I moved over. I didn't think he would tell. And plus, it was pouring rain.
It rained so hard that night that Nancy called me to drive her car over to her office building and pick her up. Sure I said! I finally get to try driving on the wrong side of the road (on the right side of the car). I got it, found the lights and the windshield wipers, and headed off down the deserted speedbump-riddled ILRI road. This isn't so bad I thought to myself. Then I realized I was still on the right side of the road. Ha! And turning was really weird. I imagined other cars coming towards me and tried to figure out who would have the right of way. Luckily they were just imaginary. I made it back without damaging anything.
Joerg was very excited for his new puppy. We tried to keep busy but all anyone could think about was Naddel. We spent numerous shopping trips buying her food, toys, and commissioning a bed from a roadside carpenter. I made banana bread from the bananas grown just outside the door and Joerg taught me how to drink various liquors. Some were much better than others. Joerg found out which cafes he could bring Naddel to and made plans to stay home with her for the rest of his life.
We went running as usual, and as I completed the hill I saw a little girl running down the road, crying her eyes out. People were looking at her wondering if they should do something, and I wasn't sure she would understand me if I talked to her. I followed her towards Judy, my running team captain, who thankfully stopped to help her. It turns out she was lost. Her family had moved the day before and she couldn't remember how to get home. She was only 5 years old! She had walked about a mile from school trying to find her way. The poor thing. Judy calmed her down, took her hand, and walked her back to school where her siblings were still in class.
I spent a lot of time with Basil, my dirty dalmation friend. One morning we found a small heard of loose goats by the cow barn. I tried to grab him but he saw them too and ran off towards them. Crap! He is going to kill a goat. But he just wanted to chase them, and even that was short lived when his energy burst ran out and his hip dysplasia kicked in. Whew. That afternoon I laid in the sun with Basil in the backyard, but it made no difference to my pasty whiteness. When I went inside, Basil wanted to follow me. He is supposed to stay outside all the time. But I was lonely and any dog who begs to be let up on the couch by wagging his paws in the air has been there before. So I moved over. I didn't think he would tell. And plus, it was pouring rain.
It rained so hard that night that Nancy called me to drive her car over to her office building and pick her up. Sure I said! I finally get to try driving on the wrong side of the road (on the right side of the car). I got it, found the lights and the windshield wipers, and headed off down the deserted speedbump-riddled ILRI road. This isn't so bad I thought to myself. Then I realized I was still on the right side of the road. Ha! And turning was really weird. I imagined other cars coming towards me and tried to figure out who would have the right of way. Luckily they were just imaginary. I made it back without damaging anything.
Joerg was very excited for his new puppy. We tried to keep busy but all anyone could think about was Naddel. We spent numerous shopping trips buying her food, toys, and commissioning a bed from a roadside carpenter. I made banana bread from the bananas grown just outside the door and Joerg taught me how to drink various liquors. Some were much better than others. Joerg found out which cafes he could bring Naddel to and made plans to stay home with her for the rest of his life.
Friday, July 3, 2009
The Aberdares Part II
"Julia, good morning", came a singsong voice in a German accent from across the campsite. "Want to make me a tea?". It was 5:30 am, still dark, and I was freezing. We decided to sleep for 10 more minutes. "Julia, did you brush your teeth last night?". "No". "Me either, I have a bad conscience". We decided to sleep a little longer. By 6:00 am I was too cold to lay down any longer, so I dressed and ran some laps outside. Everything was covered in a thick frost. We decided to wait to eat and just go for an early drive to see wildlife. The car wouldn't start at first because of the cold, but soon we were on our way with the heat blasting.
We started in silence as the sun illuminated the frosty landscape. Reedbuck, waterbuck, and bushbuck grazed in the fields. My pictures do a better job of describing it. Then we made our way down into the Salient where we saw monkeys, buffalo, an elephant, and warthogs. Mt. Kenya startled me as it poked up through clouds and morning haze to obliterate the distant landscape. Those pictures do not do it justice.
As we continued on, we listened to Joni Mitchell and Paul Simon. We decided to take a shortcut home over a mountain range where Joerg had got stuck last time he tried it. We made a wrong turn, found a beautiful lookout of Mt. Kenya, and then saw something really special, even for the Aberdares. A lioness was crossing the road. She moved fast, we didn't get a picture, but there was no doubt about it. They are rare in that park because they are actually baited and killed there. Lions were introduced a while ago, presumably to increase diversity and tourist appeal, but they started killing all the bongos who were not used to lions. This poor species is now nearing extinction, so the Kenyan Wildlife Service sanctioned depopulation of the lions. But some of them are clever and don't fall for the traps, so there are still a few left in the park. And we saw one!
The Aberdares are a favorite spot for the British Royal Family. Queen Elizabeth was actually staying in the park when she assumed the thrown. We turned towards Prince Edward's camp and hung on for dear life as the car climbed up and down washed out red dirt roads, over streams, and through mud pits. We saw a giant forest hog and another elephant, who alerted us to its presence with a shrill trumpet just feet away from the car before it crashed deeper into the bamboo. Moss covered trees filtered the sunlight and I expected to see a leopard lounging around every turn, but there were no more cats that day.
We stopped for breakfast around 11 at a beautiful fishing spot. We only had one spoon so Joerg went fishing while I enjoyed my cereal and bananas. I made fun of him for locking the car again and he said he hoped Andy and I came back to Kenya one day and left our car unlocked and got everything stolen. Teehee. The trout there were small and didn't bite so after hiking around for a while we got back in the car.
Back at the campsite I finally took off my 4 layers and ants tormented us as we packed up the tents. We stopped to fish at two more waterfalls on the way out of the park (no success), and cursed the altitude as we gasped for air hiking back to the car. We had been driving for most of the day but it was exciting and somewhat physically demanding so we were exhausted. Once down the mountain and out of the park, we took the advice of a policeman on the street and took the back road home. The tarmac turned to dirt in about 10 minutes and tired and hungry Joerg grumbled about the lack of road signs in Kenya. But why do you need signs when there are policemen at every junction to give you more bad directions? We kept on, avoiding potholes as much as possible. Joerg asked me what kind of Thai food I could cook, and when I started telling him he yelled at me to stop because it was making him too hungry and he was starting to drool.
We finally made it back to the main road, and paused for some roast maize on the entrance ramp. Not exactly the same as sweet corn, but it boosted our blood sugar and made us less grumpy. Joerg then admitted that the back road had actually saved us time, just like the policeman said it would. Our grand dinner plans turned into grilled cheese and cereal and Basil only got a short walk before I fell into bed. I was wiped out but it had been completely amazing.
We started in silence as the sun illuminated the frosty landscape. Reedbuck, waterbuck, and bushbuck grazed in the fields. My pictures do a better job of describing it. Then we made our way down into the Salient where we saw monkeys, buffalo, an elephant, and warthogs. Mt. Kenya startled me as it poked up through clouds and morning haze to obliterate the distant landscape. Those pictures do not do it justice.
As we continued on, we listened to Joni Mitchell and Paul Simon. We decided to take a shortcut home over a mountain range where Joerg had got stuck last time he tried it. We made a wrong turn, found a beautiful lookout of Mt. Kenya, and then saw something really special, even for the Aberdares. A lioness was crossing the road. She moved fast, we didn't get a picture, but there was no doubt about it. They are rare in that park because they are actually baited and killed there. Lions were introduced a while ago, presumably to increase diversity and tourist appeal, but they started killing all the bongos who were not used to lions. This poor species is now nearing extinction, so the Kenyan Wildlife Service sanctioned depopulation of the lions. But some of them are clever and don't fall for the traps, so there are still a few left in the park. And we saw one!
The Aberdares are a favorite spot for the British Royal Family. Queen Elizabeth was actually staying in the park when she assumed the thrown. We turned towards Prince Edward's camp and hung on for dear life as the car climbed up and down washed out red dirt roads, over streams, and through mud pits. We saw a giant forest hog and another elephant, who alerted us to its presence with a shrill trumpet just feet away from the car before it crashed deeper into the bamboo. Moss covered trees filtered the sunlight and I expected to see a leopard lounging around every turn, but there were no more cats that day.
We stopped for breakfast around 11 at a beautiful fishing spot. We only had one spoon so Joerg went fishing while I enjoyed my cereal and bananas. I made fun of him for locking the car again and he said he hoped Andy and I came back to Kenya one day and left our car unlocked and got everything stolen. Teehee. The trout there were small and didn't bite so after hiking around for a while we got back in the car.
Back at the campsite I finally took off my 4 layers and ants tormented us as we packed up the tents. We stopped to fish at two more waterfalls on the way out of the park (no success), and cursed the altitude as we gasped for air hiking back to the car. We had been driving for most of the day but it was exciting and somewhat physically demanding so we were exhausted. Once down the mountain and out of the park, we took the advice of a policeman on the street and took the back road home. The tarmac turned to dirt in about 10 minutes and tired and hungry Joerg grumbled about the lack of road signs in Kenya. But why do you need signs when there are policemen at every junction to give you more bad directions? We kept on, avoiding potholes as much as possible. Joerg asked me what kind of Thai food I could cook, and when I started telling him he yelled at me to stop because it was making him too hungry and he was starting to drool.
We finally made it back to the main road, and paused for some roast maize on the entrance ramp. Not exactly the same as sweet corn, but it boosted our blood sugar and made us less grumpy. Joerg then admitted that the back road had actually saved us time, just like the policeman said it would. Our grand dinner plans turned into grilled cheese and cereal and Basil only got a short walk before I fell into bed. I was wiped out but it had been completely amazing.
Thursday, July 2, 2009
The Aberdares Part I
Are you more of a visual learner? Pictures at http://picasaweb.google.com/julia.littell/TheAberdares
The rest of last week went quickly, now that I have a friend to cook and laugh with and a surrogate dog and cat. I also had some interesting reptile encounters. There was the CUTEST baby gecko in the bath tub one night (only about an inch long) that I squealed over for a while. Just ask Andy, he was on the phone. And then on the way back from the lab, Cassandra saw a squashed chameleon in the road. It was perfectly formed, even its curly tongue was sticking out. It was just flat. And dead.
Cassandra, Joerg, and I went out for Ethiopian food on Friday. It was part of this foreigner social club thing, so there were a lot of other people there that we didn't know. We sat on little stools with cushions around small tables that were actually drums with animal skins over them. We saw other people being served meals in huge flat baskets, so when it came time to order we asked for whatever the other table was eating. While we were waiting for our food a smiling young man and woman came out to dance for us. He wore a white silk robe and pants with a green belt, and she had a long cotton dress that she tucked under at her waste to free her feet. The main movement in Ethiopian dancing is in the shoulders. Jerky movements that verge on vibrations at times. It was really impressive and fun to watch.
Then our food came. Goat, potatoes, onions, tomatoes, beans, cabbage, greens, sauces, and spices all served on a huge piece of thin spongy bread. Unfortunately Cassandra mistook a really hot pepper for a green bean and ruined her night. We went to a club after dinner (crazy!) but the room they normally go in was reserved for a party, so after Joerg watched soccer on TV for a while and Cassandra and I watched some ladies dancing, we left and went home. We had to get ready to go camping the next day!
In the morning Cassandra informed us that she had strained her back from breathing weird after eating the hot pepper (?) and she would not be able to come with us. But she was nice enough to still let me use her tent. We loaded the car with camping gear, and went to see a dying bird Joerg had found and moved that morning. It was in the bush where he had left it, but when he went to take a close up picture of it, it flew away. "Duuuuh?" was the hilarious sound that came out of his mouth (which he later denied). Apparently "dying" was actually just stunned after it had ran into a window, but he took credit for saving its life.
Then we were off! Counting crows serenading us down the road. Until Joerg realized that he forgot his cell phone. We went back, got it, and were off again! The drive Northwest to the Aberdares was exciting for me. Joerg let me use his fancy camera to take pictures the whole weekend. Right outside of Nairobi is beautiful countryside with sheep everywhere, donkeys grazing on the side of the road, men selling sheep skins (I really wanted one but wasn't sure about customs), vertically stacked fruit stands, and a suddenly striking view of the rift valley down below. Perhaps this location is famous for other reasons, but we vet students know of it because of the infamous Rift Valley Fever. This pesky phlebovirus virus was one of the thousands drilled into our head during block IV. It causes a considerable amount of anguish here in the rift valley, but we American vets are concerned about it because it is carried by the same kinds of mosquitoes we have in the US of A.
As we climbed in altitude, the clouds rolled in and we were driving through greener and greener pastures now sprinkled with tall pine trees. It felt like medieval Europe, not Africa. The entire park is enclosed with a huge electric fence to keep the elephants from terrorizing the locals and to keep the locals from grazing their cattle in the park. Once through the fence we drove up and up and up, into a bamboo forest, listening to Bob Dylan. Joerg had me on the lookout for wild cats to take pictures of (which he said he could sell), but we didn't see any. Then there was another gate where we had to pay to get into the park. Joerg has a yearly pass but they still tried to charge him to get in. He was used to this happening but we worked it out and $75 (for me) and one fishing license later we were in the park.
We drove alone down a dirt road out of the bamboo and into the moorlands. Rolling hills of low bushes and distant forests representing every shade of green you can imagine. We parked the car and eagle-eye Joerg spotted an elephant almost immediately. He has been there many times but he got really excited because this was the first time he had seen a lone elephant in the moorlands with no bamboo to hide in. It was pretty sweet.
Joerg got his fly fishing rod set up with a "Mrs. Simpson" (for those of you who care), and we headed down towards the waterfalls. We didn't get far before we found a stream that just had to be fished in for a while. I took lots of pictures while he cursed the trees in the way, and just as I stopped paying attention, he got one! Hey hey look! A big trout! Oh no! It got away. With Mrs. Simpson. I took a picture of him standing there, stunned and grinning. We slowly made our way to the falls, fishing, taking pictures, Joerg fell in the mud, I tripped over elephant poo. And there they were. A huge gorge with falls on either side. I'll let you just look at the pictures.
We found Reedbuck Campsite #1, with 3 Americans on it, but #2 was just down the road (and it was nicer!). Everyone had warned me about the weather up there (we were over 3000 meters) and as we set up our tents the sun started to dip, bringing the temperature with it. I put on my PJ pants, tucked them into my wool socks, donned my regular pants, two shirts, a fleece, a raincoat, and a blanket and went to sit by the stove and make tea. After tea we boiled gnocchi and opened the canned tomato sauce with an army can opener. Joerg insisted on moving the opened cans into the fire pit so they wouldn't spill, and promptly spilled one of them.
As we sat eating, reedbuck and bushbuck came from all directions to investigate our tents and the spilled tomato sauce. I wanted to take pictures, but Joerg said I should just enjoy them and not worry about pictures and scaring them with a flash. I think he was right. One female came very close, tasting my shoes at one point, but wouldn't let any of the others near us. She just chased them away. The stars came out, we drank some warm beer (I wished it was hot), and talked and laughed about deep philosophical questions and burping and farting until the late hour of 8:00pm. You landsea-ers will appreciate that I showed Joerg how to garberate the gnocchi and then how to clean his bowl with beer. He liked the first one, but the warm tomato-y beer was too much. I actually quite liked it.
When it was too cold to sit there any more, we went to bed. Joerg instructed me that if I heard a lion or an elephant outside the tent, I was not to come out of it under any circumstances. I noticed his tent was much closer to the car (which he had insisted on locking), and that he had the key. But I was too happy to be scared. I crawled into my heavy sleeping bag with my wool blanket, and only got warm when I curled up and zipped my head under. I fell asleep to the sound of Joerg snoring in the distance and reedbuck walking around and licking my tent.
The rest of last week went quickly, now that I have a friend to cook and laugh with and a surrogate dog and cat. I also had some interesting reptile encounters. There was the CUTEST baby gecko in the bath tub one night (only about an inch long) that I squealed over for a while. Just ask Andy, he was on the phone. And then on the way back from the lab, Cassandra saw a squashed chameleon in the road. It was perfectly formed, even its curly tongue was sticking out. It was just flat. And dead.
Cassandra, Joerg, and I went out for Ethiopian food on Friday. It was part of this foreigner social club thing, so there were a lot of other people there that we didn't know. We sat on little stools with cushions around small tables that were actually drums with animal skins over them. We saw other people being served meals in huge flat baskets, so when it came time to order we asked for whatever the other table was eating. While we were waiting for our food a smiling young man and woman came out to dance for us. He wore a white silk robe and pants with a green belt, and she had a long cotton dress that she tucked under at her waste to free her feet. The main movement in Ethiopian dancing is in the shoulders. Jerky movements that verge on vibrations at times. It was really impressive and fun to watch.
Then our food came. Goat, potatoes, onions, tomatoes, beans, cabbage, greens, sauces, and spices all served on a huge piece of thin spongy bread. Unfortunately Cassandra mistook a really hot pepper for a green bean and ruined her night. We went to a club after dinner (crazy!) but the room they normally go in was reserved for a party, so after Joerg watched soccer on TV for a while and Cassandra and I watched some ladies dancing, we left and went home. We had to get ready to go camping the next day!
In the morning Cassandra informed us that she had strained her back from breathing weird after eating the hot pepper (?) and she would not be able to come with us. But she was nice enough to still let me use her tent. We loaded the car with camping gear, and went to see a dying bird Joerg had found and moved that morning. It was in the bush where he had left it, but when he went to take a close up picture of it, it flew away. "Duuuuh?" was the hilarious sound that came out of his mouth (which he later denied). Apparently "dying" was actually just stunned after it had ran into a window, but he took credit for saving its life.
Then we were off! Counting crows serenading us down the road. Until Joerg realized that he forgot his cell phone. We went back, got it, and were off again! The drive Northwest to the Aberdares was exciting for me. Joerg let me use his fancy camera to take pictures the whole weekend. Right outside of Nairobi is beautiful countryside with sheep everywhere, donkeys grazing on the side of the road, men selling sheep skins (I really wanted one but wasn't sure about customs), vertically stacked fruit stands, and a suddenly striking view of the rift valley down below. Perhaps this location is famous for other reasons, but we vet students know of it because of the infamous Rift Valley Fever. This pesky phlebovirus virus was one of the thousands drilled into our head during block IV. It causes a considerable amount of anguish here in the rift valley, but we American vets are concerned about it because it is carried by the same kinds of mosquitoes we have in the US of A.
As we climbed in altitude, the clouds rolled in and we were driving through greener and greener pastures now sprinkled with tall pine trees. It felt like medieval Europe, not Africa. The entire park is enclosed with a huge electric fence to keep the elephants from terrorizing the locals and to keep the locals from grazing their cattle in the park. Once through the fence we drove up and up and up, into a bamboo forest, listening to Bob Dylan. Joerg had me on the lookout for wild cats to take pictures of (which he said he could sell), but we didn't see any. Then there was another gate where we had to pay to get into the park. Joerg has a yearly pass but they still tried to charge him to get in. He was used to this happening but we worked it out and $75 (for me) and one fishing license later we were in the park.
We drove alone down a dirt road out of the bamboo and into the moorlands. Rolling hills of low bushes and distant forests representing every shade of green you can imagine. We parked the car and eagle-eye Joerg spotted an elephant almost immediately. He has been there many times but he got really excited because this was the first time he had seen a lone elephant in the moorlands with no bamboo to hide in. It was pretty sweet.
Joerg got his fly fishing rod set up with a "Mrs. Simpson" (for those of you who care), and we headed down towards the waterfalls. We didn't get far before we found a stream that just had to be fished in for a while. I took lots of pictures while he cursed the trees in the way, and just as I stopped paying attention, he got one! Hey hey look! A big trout! Oh no! It got away. With Mrs. Simpson. I took a picture of him standing there, stunned and grinning. We slowly made our way to the falls, fishing, taking pictures, Joerg fell in the mud, I tripped over elephant poo. And there they were. A huge gorge with falls on either side. I'll let you just look at the pictures.
We found Reedbuck Campsite #1, with 3 Americans on it, but #2 was just down the road (and it was nicer!). Everyone had warned me about the weather up there (we were over 3000 meters) and as we set up our tents the sun started to dip, bringing the temperature with it. I put on my PJ pants, tucked them into my wool socks, donned my regular pants, two shirts, a fleece, a raincoat, and a blanket and went to sit by the stove and make tea. After tea we boiled gnocchi and opened the canned tomato sauce with an army can opener. Joerg insisted on moving the opened cans into the fire pit so they wouldn't spill, and promptly spilled one of them.
As we sat eating, reedbuck and bushbuck came from all directions to investigate our tents and the spilled tomato sauce. I wanted to take pictures, but Joerg said I should just enjoy them and not worry about pictures and scaring them with a flash. I think he was right. One female came very close, tasting my shoes at one point, but wouldn't let any of the others near us. She just chased them away. The stars came out, we drank some warm beer (I wished it was hot), and talked and laughed about deep philosophical questions and burping and farting until the late hour of 8:00pm. You landsea-ers will appreciate that I showed Joerg how to garberate the gnocchi and then how to clean his bowl with beer. He liked the first one, but the warm tomato-y beer was too much. I actually quite liked it.
When it was too cold to sit there any more, we went to bed. Joerg instructed me that if I heard a lion or an elephant outside the tent, I was not to come out of it under any circumstances. I noticed his tent was much closer to the car (which he had insisted on locking), and that he had the key. But I was too happy to be scared. I crawled into my heavy sleeping bag with my wool blanket, and only got warm when I curled up and zipped my head under. I fell asleep to the sound of Joerg snoring in the distance and reedbuck walking around and licking my tent.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Mongoose Blessing
Ok, continuing on...
On Sunday we learned that the power was going to be out again while they repaired the exploded generator, but Cassandra, Nancy and I are all horsey people so Nancy took us to a horse show she had somehow heard about! I stupidly forgot my camera but after we drove through the weird deserted fairground roads with buildings of every color and shape, past the practicing polo teams, the horses and the riders pretty much looked exactly how they might in one of my old home videos. Despite the picture of a black man riding a horse in the flier, it was just a bunch of little blond white girls on cute ponies riding around and jumping over stuff. The white Kenyans there were a weird bunch. I assumed at first that they were all foreigners, but Nancy explained that they mostly had lived in Kenya since colonial times. It was like a new species...or culture at least. They were all blond and sun dried and spoke with a really old British accent that most modern Brits make fun of. They seemed to keep to themselves and from what I gathered, most of the riders had been coached by their moms. They were not the best looking or cleanest riders I have ever seen, but they were brave! One little girl who couldn't have been over the age of 4 placed 3rd in a 2.5 foot jumping class after her horse crashed through the third jump. They were both fine and it was pretty impressive considering the pony was doing it completely by himself. Other horses refused all over the place but these little kids kept flapping, kicking, and yelling until they got over all the jumps.
After the horse show, I went to Derek and Kashia's house for tea and also to learn how to take care of Basil the dalmation and the cat with no name while they are on vacation. The cat might have a name, but it was not included in the half our instructional tour of how to open all the doors and windows, how not to flood the bathroom while showering, and why I shouldn't use their semi-manual washing machine. Various neighbors were over as well with 8 or so kids all under age 6, all with South American fathers and/or Scandinavian mothers. I didn't have much to contribute to the conversation, but the cake was good.
The beginning of week 6 was noteworthy because I completed as much work in 2.5 days as I had in the first 2.5 weeks. Finally things are going smoothly and I have learned to be very efficient. I am looking forward to my meeting tomorrow with Phil to discuss what I will do next. We have also had a lot of seminars recently from visiting scientists who are in the area for various conferences. It is exciting to sit in on these really cutting edge high level presentations that have been published in the best scientific journals. Plus there is always tea and cookies.
I have also been making progress with my running. I have been a loyal member every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, and I am now one of the faster members of our group. I even beat a few of the guys up the hill today! Recently the local government was persuaded by ILRI, after two years of negotiations, to move a nearby garbage dump (the one that was attracting all the Maribau storks). So, the storks are gone, the dump has been removed one truckload at a time, and most of the trash has been redistributed all along the road. This makes for a variety of sights and smells to entertain us on our runs, including 2 dead dogs (perhaps unrelated to the garbage transport), but not to be topped by the garbage fires at 20 foot intervals all the way home on Wednesday. Nothing like the smell and heat of burning rotten plastic to make you want to breathe deeply and run really hard. But it was nice to see people making an effort to clean up.
JJ got home yesterday night, bringing with him German cherries, chocolate, cheese, wine, sausage, fashion magazines, and every possible cosmetic product for dogs. He is preparing for the arrival of his 6 month old German Shorthair puppy Naddel in one week. We are all very excited. He packed everything in an old green suitcase of his parents which he then gave to the maid. He was not here when she was leaving to go home this afternoon, so she asked me to write a note giving her permission to carry it off ILRI property.
JJ's arrival also brought the ability to unlock and open the sliding glass door into the back yard. A day I have been dreaming about for weeks. As we sat eating cherries and drinking wine last night, I looked over and saw a skunk monkey coming towards us (I use this term for purely descriptive purposes, not to be confused with the urban dictionary's definition of a person who can shave his butt and walk backwards and no one would know the difference)! Ok, it was a white tailed mongoose but it was really cool and came about 2 feet from me. I even got some pictures (coming soon). It sniffed around, unimpressed with fresh cherries recently flown in from Germany, and then sauntered off. I'm taking the appearance of the white tailed mongoose as a sign that things will get more exciting in the weeks to come.
On Sunday we learned that the power was going to be out again while they repaired the exploded generator, but Cassandra, Nancy and I are all horsey people so Nancy took us to a horse show she had somehow heard about! I stupidly forgot my camera but after we drove through the weird deserted fairground roads with buildings of every color and shape, past the practicing polo teams, the horses and the riders pretty much looked exactly how they might in one of my old home videos. Despite the picture of a black man riding a horse in the flier, it was just a bunch of little blond white girls on cute ponies riding around and jumping over stuff. The white Kenyans there were a weird bunch. I assumed at first that they were all foreigners, but Nancy explained that they mostly had lived in Kenya since colonial times. It was like a new species...or culture at least. They were all blond and sun dried and spoke with a really old British accent that most modern Brits make fun of. They seemed to keep to themselves and from what I gathered, most of the riders had been coached by their moms. They were not the best looking or cleanest riders I have ever seen, but they were brave! One little girl who couldn't have been over the age of 4 placed 3rd in a 2.5 foot jumping class after her horse crashed through the third jump. They were both fine and it was pretty impressive considering the pony was doing it completely by himself. Other horses refused all over the place but these little kids kept flapping, kicking, and yelling until they got over all the jumps.
After the horse show, I went to Derek and Kashia's house for tea and also to learn how to take care of Basil the dalmation and the cat with no name while they are on vacation. The cat might have a name, but it was not included in the half our instructional tour of how to open all the doors and windows, how not to flood the bathroom while showering, and why I shouldn't use their semi-manual washing machine. Various neighbors were over as well with 8 or so kids all under age 6, all with South American fathers and/or Scandinavian mothers. I didn't have much to contribute to the conversation, but the cake was good.
The beginning of week 6 was noteworthy because I completed as much work in 2.5 days as I had in the first 2.5 weeks. Finally things are going smoothly and I have learned to be very efficient. I am looking forward to my meeting tomorrow with Phil to discuss what I will do next. We have also had a lot of seminars recently from visiting scientists who are in the area for various conferences. It is exciting to sit in on these really cutting edge high level presentations that have been published in the best scientific journals. Plus there is always tea and cookies.
I have also been making progress with my running. I have been a loyal member every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, and I am now one of the faster members of our group. I even beat a few of the guys up the hill today! Recently the local government was persuaded by ILRI, after two years of negotiations, to move a nearby garbage dump (the one that was attracting all the Maribau storks). So, the storks are gone, the dump has been removed one truckload at a time, and most of the trash has been redistributed all along the road. This makes for a variety of sights and smells to entertain us on our runs, including 2 dead dogs (perhaps unrelated to the garbage transport), but not to be topped by the garbage fires at 20 foot intervals all the way home on Wednesday. Nothing like the smell and heat of burning rotten plastic to make you want to breathe deeply and run really hard. But it was nice to see people making an effort to clean up.
JJ got home yesterday night, bringing with him German cherries, chocolate, cheese, wine, sausage, fashion magazines, and every possible cosmetic product for dogs. He is preparing for the arrival of his 6 month old German Shorthair puppy Naddel in one week. We are all very excited. He packed everything in an old green suitcase of his parents which he then gave to the maid. He was not here when she was leaving to go home this afternoon, so she asked me to write a note giving her permission to carry it off ILRI property.
JJ's arrival also brought the ability to unlock and open the sliding glass door into the back yard. A day I have been dreaming about for weeks. As we sat eating cherries and drinking wine last night, I looked over and saw a skunk monkey coming towards us (I use this term for purely descriptive purposes, not to be confused with the urban dictionary's definition of a person who can shave his butt and walk backwards and no one would know the difference)! Ok, it was a white tailed mongoose but it was really cool and came about 2 feet from me. I even got some pictures (coming soon). It sniffed around, unimpressed with fresh cherries recently flown in from Germany, and then sauntered off. I'm taking the appearance of the white tailed mongoose as a sign that things will get more exciting in the weeks to come.
Hump Week
Week 5 in Nairobi, the middle of my time here, brought with it an overwhelming feeling that I was not taking full advantage of my opportunity here. I was back in the lab, not really learning anything new, and going home to an empty house each night. I became frustrated at my inability to entertain myself on this exotic continent supposedly overflowing with adventure, which I couldn't even get a whiff of. But then again, what was I supposed to do? Most adventures here require a companion, a car, or a Y chromosome. I decided to try focusing on small wonders and did my best to enjoy all the free time I had. Eventually something would have to happen, right?
On Friday, Cassandra let me help with her long anticipated vaccine trial. She is designing a vaccine that targets a protein on the inside of tick digestive tracts, so in theory then when the ticks suck blood from the vaccinated cows, they are attacked from the inside and either die or lose the ability to transmit disease. Very cool if it ends up working. And the main disease this would help control is the one I am studying, East Coast Fever. There are 16 cows in her trial, so we had to hand mix the vaccines from ingredients she had prepared. After some minor technical difficulties (leaky syringes and cramping fingers) we headed down to the barn with our 16 vaccines on ice.
The little fuzzy Friesian bulls, at that awkward stage where they are peppered with ring worm fungus, came prance-bumbling down a ramp and we herded them into a chute. One by one they got a shot under the skin by their shoulder and were then released into a pen containing some very exciting sawdust. An official vet did the actual sticking, so I helped keep the line moving and Cassandra made sure each bull got the right vaccine (half were "fake"). Things were going smoothly until we realized we were short a vaccine! How could this happen? We had been so careful. But it had sprouted legs and walked away. It was one of the fakers, so we let it go since they would be getting two more doses over the course of the trial. Sshhhhhh. That is a secret. That is not how you are "supposed" to do "science".
The next morning our power went out. Common in Africa yes, but ILRI is not really Africa and this was sort of a big deal. Later we learned a generator had exploded into flames, and a heroic worker had bravely risked his life to put out the fire and prevent further damage. But the problem would take 9 hour chunks of Saturday and Sunday to rectify, and in the meantime we couldn't cook, watch TV, go online, take hot showers, or keep all of our important scientific materials and samples at sufficiently low temperatures. My boredom seemed doomed to intensify.
When I couldn't take it anymore, I went to bug Cassandra. We decided to go down and check on her newly vaccinated calves (all 16 were there), and I raided the avocado tree by their paddock. We also tested out the nearby pomegranates, but they weren't quite ripe. I will be back soon though. With fresh produce on our minds and nothing else to do, we took a deep breath and ventured outside the ILRI gates into the village of Uthuru. Why hadn't we done this before!? Beyond the broken down cars, butcher shops, dusty couches for sale, and numerous other small businesses, we found a little general store. I wanted some yogurt, but they only had the permanently un-refrigerated variety so I declined. Instead got some Obama chewing gum. This modern Kenyan wonder is Bazooka shaped, comes in either orange or strawberry flavor, and has our president and first lady featured on the wrapper. I opted for orange since that is the kind of gum Deirdre showed me how to blow bubbles with long ago in the back of the old gray van. Each piece costs one kenyan shilling, or 0.78 cents and if you are lucky I might bring you a piece. However, I do not recommend chewing it, because it tastes like tire rubber and completely disintegrates in your mouth. We walked home on the other side of the road where all the produce stands were. I got 2 mangoes, 8 bananas, 4 oranges, 4 tomatoes, 5 red onions, 4 green peppers, and an avocado for under $2. Asante sana (thank you very much)!
That night Nancy took us to the mall and we watched Angels and Demons and went out to eat. Tickets cost 550 KSH but the man selling them had nothing but 1000 and 500 KSH bills. We managed between the three of us but I wondered if I would have been allowed to see the movie had I not had exact change. I read in my guide book that you have to stand for the national anthem before the movie. Neither Nancy or Cassandra believed me, but my book was correct. They play an abridged version set to a Kenyan flag waving in the wind, not quite as interesting as Thailand's version with the royal family doing various charitable activities across a beautiful landscape. Those actually used to make me cry.
I don't have a smooth ending for this post because this is not actually the end. But after being compared to certain philosophy blogs (in length only, I assure you!), I am attempting to write slightly shorter posts. So after you go to the bathroom and get a snack, come back for the rest of the story (Mongoose Blessing).
On Friday, Cassandra let me help with her long anticipated vaccine trial. She is designing a vaccine that targets a protein on the inside of tick digestive tracts, so in theory then when the ticks suck blood from the vaccinated cows, they are attacked from the inside and either die or lose the ability to transmit disease. Very cool if it ends up working. And the main disease this would help control is the one I am studying, East Coast Fever. There are 16 cows in her trial, so we had to hand mix the vaccines from ingredients she had prepared. After some minor technical difficulties (leaky syringes and cramping fingers) we headed down to the barn with our 16 vaccines on ice.
The little fuzzy Friesian bulls, at that awkward stage where they are peppered with ring worm fungus, came prance-bumbling down a ramp and we herded them into a chute. One by one they got a shot under the skin by their shoulder and were then released into a pen containing some very exciting sawdust. An official vet did the actual sticking, so I helped keep the line moving and Cassandra made sure each bull got the right vaccine (half were "fake"). Things were going smoothly until we realized we were short a vaccine! How could this happen? We had been so careful. But it had sprouted legs and walked away. It was one of the fakers, so we let it go since they would be getting two more doses over the course of the trial. Sshhhhhh. That is a secret. That is not how you are "supposed" to do "science".
The next morning our power went out. Common in Africa yes, but ILRI is not really Africa and this was sort of a big deal. Later we learned a generator had exploded into flames, and a heroic worker had bravely risked his life to put out the fire and prevent further damage. But the problem would take 9 hour chunks of Saturday and Sunday to rectify, and in the meantime we couldn't cook, watch TV, go online, take hot showers, or keep all of our important scientific materials and samples at sufficiently low temperatures. My boredom seemed doomed to intensify.
When I couldn't take it anymore, I went to bug Cassandra. We decided to go down and check on her newly vaccinated calves (all 16 were there), and I raided the avocado tree by their paddock. We also tested out the nearby pomegranates, but they weren't quite ripe. I will be back soon though. With fresh produce on our minds and nothing else to do, we took a deep breath and ventured outside the ILRI gates into the village of Uthuru. Why hadn't we done this before!? Beyond the broken down cars, butcher shops, dusty couches for sale, and numerous other small businesses, we found a little general store. I wanted some yogurt, but they only had the permanently un-refrigerated variety so I declined. Instead got some Obama chewing gum. This modern Kenyan wonder is Bazooka shaped, comes in either orange or strawberry flavor, and has our president and first lady featured on the wrapper. I opted for orange since that is the kind of gum Deirdre showed me how to blow bubbles with long ago in the back of the old gray van. Each piece costs one kenyan shilling, or 0.78 cents and if you are lucky I might bring you a piece. However, I do not recommend chewing it, because it tastes like tire rubber and completely disintegrates in your mouth. We walked home on the other side of the road where all the produce stands were. I got 2 mangoes, 8 bananas, 4 oranges, 4 tomatoes, 5 red onions, 4 green peppers, and an avocado for under $2. Asante sana (thank you very much)!
That night Nancy took us to the mall and we watched Angels and Demons and went out to eat. Tickets cost 550 KSH but the man selling them had nothing but 1000 and 500 KSH bills. We managed between the three of us but I wondered if I would have been allowed to see the movie had I not had exact change. I read in my guide book that you have to stand for the national anthem before the movie. Neither Nancy or Cassandra believed me, but my book was correct. They play an abridged version set to a Kenyan flag waving in the wind, not quite as interesting as Thailand's version with the royal family doing various charitable activities across a beautiful landscape. Those actually used to make me cry.
I don't have a smooth ending for this post because this is not actually the end. But after being compared to certain philosophy blogs (in length only, I assure you!), I am attempting to write slightly shorter posts. So after you go to the bathroom and get a snack, come back for the rest of the story (Mongoose Blessing).
Saturday, June 20, 2009
Leaving Busia
Ok time to finish up Busia. Better late than never, right?
Saturday was taken up by another training. Ephy, who has never handled animals before, was training us, the veterinarians and animal health assistants, how to handle animals. Oh good, a perfectly great way to spend the weekend. Ephy speaks in a series of suspended questions that she answers herself: "Mothers always protect their? Young!". And everything she says, no matter what the subject of the sentence, is followed by a resounding "isn't it?!". So just imagine hours of statements like this: "Then you are able to do your? Sampling! Isn't it?! Then the animals can be? Used! Isn't it?!". That is how the day went.
I did learn some alarming things about the hospital system and doctors. Apparently there is a large shortage of doctors, not helped by the fact that the government supports sending them abroad. So many of the doctors staffing public hospitals are fresh out of school/residence (6 years TOTAL including undergrad) and nobody trusts them. They are my little brother's age. Additionally, they are so overworked and short staffed that no matter what your complaint is you invariably just get a prescription to treat either malaria or typhoid. One of the ILRI employees took her young daughter in the other day because she was having trouble breathing, and they told her to first treat her for malaria for 3 weeks and then they would check out her lungs. She insisted on seeing another doctor and finally got someone to listen to her child's lungs and they ended up changing the diagnosis to pneumonia.
That evening Eleonore and I decided to walk home along the main road. It is about 5 km and normally takes 45 minutes. We passed many women selling fruits, vegetables, and grains. Others were braiding hair under trees. School children followed us as close as they dared and ran away laughing when we smiled at them. Goats, cows, and chickens roamed free everywhere, picking through piles of garbage, and we wondered how people knew who they belonged to. A group of about 8 children came running up to us, led by a tiny little girl barely old enough to walk who stopped short in front of me to shake my hand. The older children followed suit or added their personal variations on the greeting: a hard slap on the hand or a passionate kiss on the palm. At one point I was startled by a man who ran down an embankment and stopped just short of hitting me from behind. I turned around to face him, my heart racing, and realized that he was completely drunk. But he understood my startled look and apologized until I reassured him that I was ok and walked on.
We were about 15 minutes from home when the huge storm head that had been accumulating ripped open on us. Within 30 seconds the bustling roadside was empty and the rain was coming down in torrents. We found ourselves under the roof of a weigh station shack, and were invited in to wait out the rain. There was no power and it was too loud to talk, so we sat in the dark wooden room with 4 or 5 other people for about half an hour. There was a dusty Obama calendar on the wall and through the window we could see fuel trucks arriving after a 36 hour journey from Mombassa. It was getting dark so when the downpour finally showed signs of fatigue, we made a run for it. Most people were still huddled under the eves of buildings, and a soggy looking rooster glowered at us from under a vegetable stand as we passed by. A small group of children ran ahead down the middle of the road chasing each other and laughing. We arrived home completely soaked and mud spattered, just happy we had made it before dark. I didn't bother to shower that day. I just toweled off and changed my clothes.
The next morning we woke up at 4:40 and drove to Kisumu. Jon, Eleonore, and I tried to sleep in the back, despite the bumps and lurches and lack of space. We spent the morning at a very large outdoor market and filled the car up with perishable items just as the sun was gearing up to cook it all. I found some nice fabric without Obama's face on it, and a clay pot with a water buffalo head that seems like a foolish purchase in retrospect. Then we headed down to the shore of Lake Victoria for a lunch of talapia and ugali.
Sitting outside, just feet from the muddy water, we washed our hands in warm water poured into plastic bowls and watched matatu drivers washing their vans. A continuous line of men walked by trying to sell us everything from soapstone candle sticks, to bracelets, to CDs, to fishing nets. Some just leaned on a post 3 feet from our table and stared. Amy engaged a boatman she knew in a discussion about how much a trip to one of the National park islands would be, and I stifled my annoyance when she told him that $100 was too much to split between 3 people for 4 hours of boating, fuel, and a guided tour for the entire day. How much did she think was a fair price to pay!? I know it is a slippery slope between being fair and being ripped off, but it bothered me that her only concern was the latter.
After lunch we drove to the rich side of town and read by a hotel pool until it started raining. Then we drove the car to hippo point to wait out the weather. If you watched closely you could see one hippo face surface from the lake every 5 minutes or so to breathe. We chatted and laughed and watched the traditional fishing boats with huge white sails until it was time for me to catch my plane. I told them to drop me at the outer gate so they could avoid paying the fee for driving through. I didn't want to leave Busia. It actually felt like Africa there.
Descending into Nairobi at night shows you how truly undeveloped most of Africa is. Beyond the main city itself, there are no lights. I found my driver, and as he went to get the car I realized how much different I felt compared to the first time I had arrived in Nairobi. It felt familiar, I was relaxed, and I felt like I knew how to interact with people. I was in the back of the car, trying to stay awake, when we got waved over by two policemen. One came over and spoke with my driver for about 10 minutes in Swahili. I had no idea what was going on and was not sure if I should make a stink or just stay quiet. I did not make a stink. Eventually the cop came to the back window across from me and held something red toward my face. I panicked for a moment not knowing what it was until he turned it on and I saw it was a flashlight. He looked surprised, asked me how I was, and then went back to the driver. We were waved on 2 minutes later.
The driver explained that the cop had shamelessly asked him for money. He also wanted us to buy him tea since he had just been rained on. When the driver said he had no money, the cop threatened to take him to the police station. Apparently he got nervous when he saw me and let us go. Probably my huge biceps.
Saturday was taken up by another training. Ephy, who has never handled animals before, was training us, the veterinarians and animal health assistants, how to handle animals. Oh good, a perfectly great way to spend the weekend. Ephy speaks in a series of suspended questions that she answers herself: "Mothers always protect their? Young!". And everything she says, no matter what the subject of the sentence, is followed by a resounding "isn't it?!". So just imagine hours of statements like this: "Then you are able to do your? Sampling! Isn't it?! Then the animals can be? Used! Isn't it?!". That is how the day went.
I did learn some alarming things about the hospital system and doctors. Apparently there is a large shortage of doctors, not helped by the fact that the government supports sending them abroad. So many of the doctors staffing public hospitals are fresh out of school/residence (6 years TOTAL including undergrad) and nobody trusts them. They are my little brother's age. Additionally, they are so overworked and short staffed that no matter what your complaint is you invariably just get a prescription to treat either malaria or typhoid. One of the ILRI employees took her young daughter in the other day because she was having trouble breathing, and they told her to first treat her for malaria for 3 weeks and then they would check out her lungs. She insisted on seeing another doctor and finally got someone to listen to her child's lungs and they ended up changing the diagnosis to pneumonia.
That evening Eleonore and I decided to walk home along the main road. It is about 5 km and normally takes 45 minutes. We passed many women selling fruits, vegetables, and grains. Others were braiding hair under trees. School children followed us as close as they dared and ran away laughing when we smiled at them. Goats, cows, and chickens roamed free everywhere, picking through piles of garbage, and we wondered how people knew who they belonged to. A group of about 8 children came running up to us, led by a tiny little girl barely old enough to walk who stopped short in front of me to shake my hand. The older children followed suit or added their personal variations on the greeting: a hard slap on the hand or a passionate kiss on the palm. At one point I was startled by a man who ran down an embankment and stopped just short of hitting me from behind. I turned around to face him, my heart racing, and realized that he was completely drunk. But he understood my startled look and apologized until I reassured him that I was ok and walked on.
We were about 15 minutes from home when the huge storm head that had been accumulating ripped open on us. Within 30 seconds the bustling roadside was empty and the rain was coming down in torrents. We found ourselves under the roof of a weigh station shack, and were invited in to wait out the rain. There was no power and it was too loud to talk, so we sat in the dark wooden room with 4 or 5 other people for about half an hour. There was a dusty Obama calendar on the wall and through the window we could see fuel trucks arriving after a 36 hour journey from Mombassa. It was getting dark so when the downpour finally showed signs of fatigue, we made a run for it. Most people were still huddled under the eves of buildings, and a soggy looking rooster glowered at us from under a vegetable stand as we passed by. A small group of children ran ahead down the middle of the road chasing each other and laughing. We arrived home completely soaked and mud spattered, just happy we had made it before dark. I didn't bother to shower that day. I just toweled off and changed my clothes.
The next morning we woke up at 4:40 and drove to Kisumu. Jon, Eleonore, and I tried to sleep in the back, despite the bumps and lurches and lack of space. We spent the morning at a very large outdoor market and filled the car up with perishable items just as the sun was gearing up to cook it all. I found some nice fabric without Obama's face on it, and a clay pot with a water buffalo head that seems like a foolish purchase in retrospect. Then we headed down to the shore of Lake Victoria for a lunch of talapia and ugali.
Sitting outside, just feet from the muddy water, we washed our hands in warm water poured into plastic bowls and watched matatu drivers washing their vans. A continuous line of men walked by trying to sell us everything from soapstone candle sticks, to bracelets, to CDs, to fishing nets. Some just leaned on a post 3 feet from our table and stared. Amy engaged a boatman she knew in a discussion about how much a trip to one of the National park islands would be, and I stifled my annoyance when she told him that $100 was too much to split between 3 people for 4 hours of boating, fuel, and a guided tour for the entire day. How much did she think was a fair price to pay!? I know it is a slippery slope between being fair and being ripped off, but it bothered me that her only concern was the latter.
After lunch we drove to the rich side of town and read by a hotel pool until it started raining. Then we drove the car to hippo point to wait out the weather. If you watched closely you could see one hippo face surface from the lake every 5 minutes or so to breathe. We chatted and laughed and watched the traditional fishing boats with huge white sails until it was time for me to catch my plane. I told them to drop me at the outer gate so they could avoid paying the fee for driving through. I didn't want to leave Busia. It actually felt like Africa there.
Descending into Nairobi at night shows you how truly undeveloped most of Africa is. Beyond the main city itself, there are no lights. I found my driver, and as he went to get the car I realized how much different I felt compared to the first time I had arrived in Nairobi. It felt familiar, I was relaxed, and I felt like I knew how to interact with people. I was in the back of the car, trying to stay awake, when we got waved over by two policemen. One came over and spoke with my driver for about 10 minutes in Swahili. I had no idea what was going on and was not sure if I should make a stink or just stay quiet. I did not make a stink. Eventually the cop came to the back window across from me and held something red toward my face. I panicked for a moment not knowing what it was until he turned it on and I saw it was a flashlight. He looked surprised, asked me how I was, and then went back to the driver. We were waved on 2 minutes later.
The driver explained that the cop had shamelessly asked him for money. He also wanted us to buy him tea since he had just been rained on. When the driver said he had no money, the cop threatened to take him to the police station. Apparently he got nervous when he saw me and let us go. Probably my huge biceps.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
That Darn Cat
After spending two days taking samples in the field, I was excited to start looking at some of them in the lab. There is no fieldwork on Fridays in Busia, so this was a good opportunity to get started. I was assigned to work with George, who gave me the exciting task of weighing poop. Samson, an Animal Health Assistant in training, showed me how to do it and then watched over my shoulder until George gave him something else to do. Then I got to add water to my poop, put it in a fancy machine to mash it up, and wash it through a variety of sieves. Just when I was getting the hang of it we were told we had to stop our work and go to a very important training.
Ephy, the health and safety director at ILRI who I knew only too well, had flown in for two days of training. Two days! Not only was I going to miss my day in the lab, but I was going to have to sit through animal handling safely on Saturday! Friday's session was a first aid "review", taught by the thinnest man I have ever seen from Saint someone or other's first aid training company. His first powerpoint slide took 45 minutes to cover. I wanted to die.
I quickly learned that the Kenyan way of teaching is just to say the same thing in as many different or repeated ways as you possibly can, and this guy was really good at it. He was doing his best, but I couldn't help cringe when he explained that the point of a Heimlich manoeuvre was to dislodge something in the esophagus, and that you should always try to help wounded people, but if you were at risk for losing your job you could excuse yourself. His scenarios were not helpful in the least for practicing first aid skills but they were interesting peeks into some recent (and true) Kenyan tragedies. The first was about how a fuel truck had broke down on the road and then exploded after hundreds of people had surrounded it trying to syphon fuel (we were asked what we would have done when we saw the truck break down). The second was about an electric fire at a supermarket where the guards locked everyone inside to prevent people from shoplifting (I don't remember what we were asked about this situation). The value of these discussions came in the form of a sobering warning that people in this country could act totally irrationally in high risk situations, and that if you ever suspected that something was off, even in a very public place, you should just get the hell out of there.
After spending hours on important topics like how to count to 30 wile giving CPR (i.e. how to keep yourself busy when someone is dead), how to stabilize and transport a spinal injury in the field (HA!), and how an AED works (even though there isn't a single one in the town of Busia), we spent the last half hour on relevant topics, like snake bites. But what could have been a helpful discussion quickly turned into a rather heated argument over which traditional treatments (from sicking venom, to tourniquets, to slicing the limb open lengthwise) were valid and who believed in snakes that could rot your flesh instantly, and do whatever you want but when I get bit by a snake I am slicing my own leg open! We were supposed to stop at 4, so around 4:50 the training finally wrapped up.
While we were waiting to go home, I told Jon to take a picture of me while I pretended to ride the parked motorbike. Philip saw me doing this and offered to give me a lesson. Really? So for the next 10 minutes he ran behind me as I jolted from one end of the yard to the other, somehow managing to stay upright but completely unable to turn. It was fun but I think I'll stick to riding behind someone else.
That night Ephy joined us for dinner. The power went out as usual so I helped Charles find some candles for the table. It was nice to spend time with Ephy out of the health and safety context. I found myself liking her more and more, especially when she became the only Kenyan I have ever met who took a cat to the vet. She didn't want to. She doesn't even like cats. But her husband and kids keep two in the house and one night Happy got sick so they insisted she be brought to the vet. She ended up staying there for 6 days, and although Ephy refused to go with them when they brought her in, she was guilted into visiting the cat with her children over the next week. The bill came out to 6,000 KSH ($75) and although Ephy had to admit to her mother that they took their cat to the vet, she still hasn't told her how much it cost. Shaking her head with an expression shared in all cultures, Ephy explained how kids will make you do the darnedest things.
Ephy, the health and safety director at ILRI who I knew only too well, had flown in for two days of training. Two days! Not only was I going to miss my day in the lab, but I was going to have to sit through animal handling safely on Saturday! Friday's session was a first aid "review", taught by the thinnest man I have ever seen from Saint someone or other's first aid training company. His first powerpoint slide took 45 minutes to cover. I wanted to die.
I quickly learned that the Kenyan way of teaching is just to say the same thing in as many different or repeated ways as you possibly can, and this guy was really good at it. He was doing his best, but I couldn't help cringe when he explained that the point of a Heimlich manoeuvre was to dislodge something in the esophagus, and that you should always try to help wounded people, but if you were at risk for losing your job you could excuse yourself. His scenarios were not helpful in the least for practicing first aid skills but they were interesting peeks into some recent (and true) Kenyan tragedies. The first was about how a fuel truck had broke down on the road and then exploded after hundreds of people had surrounded it trying to syphon fuel (we were asked what we would have done when we saw the truck break down). The second was about an electric fire at a supermarket where the guards locked everyone inside to prevent people from shoplifting (I don't remember what we were asked about this situation). The value of these discussions came in the form of a sobering warning that people in this country could act totally irrationally in high risk situations, and that if you ever suspected that something was off, even in a very public place, you should just get the hell out of there.
After spending hours on important topics like how to count to 30 wile giving CPR (i.e. how to keep yourself busy when someone is dead), how to stabilize and transport a spinal injury in the field (HA!), and how an AED works (even though there isn't a single one in the town of Busia), we spent the last half hour on relevant topics, like snake bites. But what could have been a helpful discussion quickly turned into a rather heated argument over which traditional treatments (from sicking venom, to tourniquets, to slicing the limb open lengthwise) were valid and who believed in snakes that could rot your flesh instantly, and do whatever you want but when I get bit by a snake I am slicing my own leg open! We were supposed to stop at 4, so around 4:50 the training finally wrapped up.
While we were waiting to go home, I told Jon to take a picture of me while I pretended to ride the parked motorbike. Philip saw me doing this and offered to give me a lesson. Really? So for the next 10 minutes he ran behind me as I jolted from one end of the yard to the other, somehow managing to stay upright but completely unable to turn. It was fun but I think I'll stick to riding behind someone else.
That night Ephy joined us for dinner. The power went out as usual so I helped Charles find some candles for the table. It was nice to spend time with Ephy out of the health and safety context. I found myself liking her more and more, especially when she became the only Kenyan I have ever met who took a cat to the vet. She didn't want to. She doesn't even like cats. But her husband and kids keep two in the house and one night Happy got sick so they insisted she be brought to the vet. She ended up staying there for 6 days, and although Ephy refused to go with them when they brought her in, she was guilted into visiting the cat with her children over the next week. The bill came out to 6,000 KSH ($75) and although Ephy had to admit to her mother that they took their cat to the vet, she still hasn't told her how much it cost. Shaking her head with an expression shared in all cultures, Ephy explained how kids will make you do the darnedest things.
Another Busia Day
Today is the half way point of my trip. And I am a week behind in my blog. Oh no! At the risk of spoiling the surprise, I will jump ahead and tell you that upon returning to work here in the lab at ILRI, nothing exciting what so ever has happened to me. So now I am caught up with this week, but it's time to finish last week...
Thursday morning I found myself in a truck with Edwin and Milton. I had been warned about Milton's driving, but I'm not sure anything could have prepared me for the real live experience. Everything in his path fled. Children ran into corn fields, terror on their faces, and animals sprinting to the ends of their tethers and were violently flipped back to the reality of their confinement. Edwin was so used to it that he simply leaned his head back and slept, and I cranked down on my seat belt and listened to the blaring radio.
The topic that morning was bad husbands. Does your husband provide for you the way he should? Financially, physically, emotionally? Or does he waste his time sitting and watching TV while you cook and clean? Gender roles in Kenyan society are depressingly traditional, and I had gotten my first idea of this while sitting under a bush with Philip and Steven the day before. They had just found out that I was married, and were asking me what Andy does. I told them he was back in Ithaca working, and the familiar pang of guilt prompted me to explain that while he was supporting me now, as soon as I graduated I would take over and he could do whatever he wanted. "Ah, that makes a lot of sense" said Steven, "but that would never happen here". I then learned that even if a Kenyan woman makes tons of money, she has no obligation to spend it on her immediate family. She can save it, or support her parents, or buy clothes, and might occasionally help with food expenses, but the man is responsible for providing for his family. "If a girl has no money, you run the other way. Only rich kids and professors date girls in college. You have to pay for EVERYTHING, even her phone and phone credit if you want to talk to her." As it turned out, both of these guys had families of their own that lived at least 2 hours away. They only saw them on the weekends, and otherwise worked in Busia, making money to send their kids to school.
The first calf we visited was a year old that day. It was his final visit for the study, and as a happy birthday present we poked and prodded him even more than usual. There was also a really cute dog that looked like an overgrown corgi and happily snoozed in the dirt while 50 or so chickens scratched all around him. I asked the farmer if I could send him my dogs to be trained.
For those of you who care, I will now go into some nerdy vet related detail that would make Dr. Bowman proud. Cool things I saw included:
We visited 5 calves that day, and between my impressive temperature taking skills and Milton's driving we were back by 1:45pm. I finished the day off with a breathless sprint behind Sam, Jon, and Amy. Their pace was much faster than what I am used to, but I had to keep up for fear of not being able to find my way back. At one point we were joined by a group of kids who somehow knew we would be coming and delighted in sprinting past me over and over again, while women gave me pitiful looks and told each other how glad they were not to be running.
Then we piled in the car and drove home. The driveway was blocked by a rope going across, about 2 feet off the ground. Amy was quick enough to gather there was some sort of animal on one end of it, hidden in the grass, and in response she slowly pulled the car up and drove over it. The cow, 18 inches from the car, didn't even pick her head up.
Thursday morning I found myself in a truck with Edwin and Milton. I had been warned about Milton's driving, but I'm not sure anything could have prepared me for the real live experience. Everything in his path fled. Children ran into corn fields, terror on their faces, and animals sprinting to the ends of their tethers and were violently flipped back to the reality of their confinement. Edwin was so used to it that he simply leaned his head back and slept, and I cranked down on my seat belt and listened to the blaring radio.
The topic that morning was bad husbands. Does your husband provide for you the way he should? Financially, physically, emotionally? Or does he waste his time sitting and watching TV while you cook and clean? Gender roles in Kenyan society are depressingly traditional, and I had gotten my first idea of this while sitting under a bush with Philip and Steven the day before. They had just found out that I was married, and were asking me what Andy does. I told them he was back in Ithaca working, and the familiar pang of guilt prompted me to explain that while he was supporting me now, as soon as I graduated I would take over and he could do whatever he wanted. "Ah, that makes a lot of sense" said Steven, "but that would never happen here". I then learned that even if a Kenyan woman makes tons of money, she has no obligation to spend it on her immediate family. She can save it, or support her parents, or buy clothes, and might occasionally help with food expenses, but the man is responsible for providing for his family. "If a girl has no money, you run the other way. Only rich kids and professors date girls in college. You have to pay for EVERYTHING, even her phone and phone credit if you want to talk to her." As it turned out, both of these guys had families of their own that lived at least 2 hours away. They only saw them on the weekends, and otherwise worked in Busia, making money to send their kids to school.
The first calf we visited was a year old that day. It was his final visit for the study, and as a happy birthday present we poked and prodded him even more than usual. There was also a really cute dog that looked like an overgrown corgi and happily snoozed in the dirt while 50 or so chickens scratched all around him. I asked the farmer if I could send him my dogs to be trained.
For those of you who care, I will now go into some nerdy vet related detail that would make Dr. Bowman proud. Cool things I saw included:
- Rhipicephalus appendiculatus aka the brown ear tick: the vector for east coast fever (my disease!)
- Amblyoma something or other with very ornate scutums (scuta?)
- Rhipicephalus evertsi which looks just like the brown ear tick but has red legs
- Thelazia eye worms!!! Remember that disgusting movie we had to watch in parasitology?
- Taking ventral midline skin biopsies to test for oncocerca
- Aspirates of totally swollen pre-scapular and sub-iliac lymph nodes (about lemon size, and this calf was not large)
We visited 5 calves that day, and between my impressive temperature taking skills and Milton's driving we were back by 1:45pm. I finished the day off with a breathless sprint behind Sam, Jon, and Amy. Their pace was much faster than what I am used to, but I had to keep up for fear of not being able to find my way back. At one point we were joined by a group of kids who somehow knew we would be coming and delighted in sprinting past me over and over again, while women gave me pitiful looks and told each other how glad they were not to be running.
Then we piled in the car and drove home. The driveway was blocked by a rope going across, about 2 feet off the ground. Amy was quick enough to gather there was some sort of animal on one end of it, hidden in the grass, and in response she slowly pulled the car up and drove over it. The cow, 18 inches from the car, didn't even pick her head up.
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Stuck in the Mud
Eleonore Spitzer and I slept well in the same bed, despite not knowing each other at all. I later found out she was in fact a distant relative of the no longer governor of New York, although she didn't know him. We made ourselves breakfast, reaching around the rancid honey that was dripping through the wall of an old fireplace turned pantry.
When we got to the office, I was assigned to go out with Philip, James, and Steven. If you know the Gray boys well this is somewhat ironic. This was the recruitment team for the day, which meant it was our job to visit calves between 3-7 days old and see if they qualified for our study. Now, when I had offered to bring my own coveralls for this project, I had been assured that I would be provided with a pair. I suppose no untruths were told, but all the coveralls at the office were so huge that I had to put my legs in and then just tie the arms around my waste to keep the crotch above my knees.
On the way there, Philip explained that the hardest part was getting accurate information. If you doubted the farmer you were to ask his kids, and if that didn't work the neighbors were usually reliable. We arrived at the first village, picked up the assistant chief, and drove out down a dirt path to a clearing with two circular mud houses with thatched roofs. As we anticipated there was an inconsistency of information: a call had been made to the office on Wednesday morning saying a calf had been born, but the farmer insisted it was born on Thursday. After a lot of talking and waiting for the in laws to arrive, we decided it was better to just let this one go.
After strike two, we headed off to a different sub-location way way out in the middle of nowhere and finally found a calf we could recruit into our study. The recruitment process is very detailed and takes about 2 hours to complete. No matter where we were, tables and chairs were brought outside for us to sit on. We ask the farmers many questions and examine the calf and its dam, and then we pay the farmer the price of a year old calf (about $125). In this way, we own the calf, but the farmer has agreed to take care of it as he would any other calf for one year while it is in our study. Usually at the end of the study, the farmer gets to keep the calf which gives him incentive to continue caring for it.
While we examined the calf, three young women examined me. Judy (15), Claire (17) and Laurie (3) eventually worked up enough courage to talk to me. After the usual introductions, Claire explained that she did not have enough money to go to school, and would I please remember her. Then the chief came up to me and told me that she was an orphan and could not afford school, and that I should consider helping her. Of course, none of the African men with actual incomes were being asked. I remained empathetic and found out that the fees were about $250 per year for kids her age. I said I might consider it in the future, but I could not do anything at the moment. I felt bad of course, but I don't blame them for asking and they were very nice about it.
After all the poking and prodding were completed, I was allowed to witness the money exchange. We went into the hut under the pretence that someone might be watching (let me remind you we were in a field in the middle of nowhere), and counted out the money in front of the farmer and the chief. After signatures were obtained, we were given sugar cane and sent on our way. We made it about 150 feed down the road before James slipped off the path and sent the front of the car into a muddy ravine. No problem I though, this car is monstrous. But I ate my words over the next two hours as we tried in vain to un-stick the car using jacks, branches, rocks, and elbow grease. At one point they even let me drive while they pushed, but this didn't work either. As it turns out, the rear differential was completely lodged in the mud as well, and even the other car could not pull us out. We ended up regrouping to go finish the calf visits while someone else called a tractor to come rescue the car.
At the next farm, we realized we had left the sling for weighing calves in the stuck car, so we improvised with my shoulder bag and Steven's belt. Then we went back to the office and I went in search of food. Along the road I found lots of fruit and some cake, which I brought home and ended up sharing with the Turkeys. Charles was in the yard doing laundry under the papaya trees. When he got up from his stool, on of the turkeys jumped up on it and tried to tag her sister while she ran in circles around her making ridiculous noises. When they were done, the one on the stool pooped to leave her mark before hopping down. I never knew turkeys were so silly.
When we got to the office, I was assigned to go out with Philip, James, and Steven. If you know the Gray boys well this is somewhat ironic. This was the recruitment team for the day, which meant it was our job to visit calves between 3-7 days old and see if they qualified for our study. Now, when I had offered to bring my own coveralls for this project, I had been assured that I would be provided with a pair. I suppose no untruths were told, but all the coveralls at the office were so huge that I had to put my legs in and then just tie the arms around my waste to keep the crotch above my knees.
On the way there, Philip explained that the hardest part was getting accurate information. If you doubted the farmer you were to ask his kids, and if that didn't work the neighbors were usually reliable. We arrived at the first village, picked up the assistant chief, and drove out down a dirt path to a clearing with two circular mud houses with thatched roofs. As we anticipated there was an inconsistency of information: a call had been made to the office on Wednesday morning saying a calf had been born, but the farmer insisted it was born on Thursday. After a lot of talking and waiting for the in laws to arrive, we decided it was better to just let this one go.
After strike two, we headed off to a different sub-location way way out in the middle of nowhere and finally found a calf we could recruit into our study. The recruitment process is very detailed and takes about 2 hours to complete. No matter where we were, tables and chairs were brought outside for us to sit on. We ask the farmers many questions and examine the calf and its dam, and then we pay the farmer the price of a year old calf (about $125). In this way, we own the calf, but the farmer has agreed to take care of it as he would any other calf for one year while it is in our study. Usually at the end of the study, the farmer gets to keep the calf which gives him incentive to continue caring for it.
While we examined the calf, three young women examined me. Judy (15), Claire (17) and Laurie (3) eventually worked up enough courage to talk to me. After the usual introductions, Claire explained that she did not have enough money to go to school, and would I please remember her. Then the chief came up to me and told me that she was an orphan and could not afford school, and that I should consider helping her. Of course, none of the African men with actual incomes were being asked. I remained empathetic and found out that the fees were about $250 per year for kids her age. I said I might consider it in the future, but I could not do anything at the moment. I felt bad of course, but I don't blame them for asking and they were very nice about it.
After all the poking and prodding were completed, I was allowed to witness the money exchange. We went into the hut under the pretence that someone might be watching (let me remind you we were in a field in the middle of nowhere), and counted out the money in front of the farmer and the chief. After signatures were obtained, we were given sugar cane and sent on our way. We made it about 150 feed down the road before James slipped off the path and sent the front of the car into a muddy ravine. No problem I though, this car is monstrous. But I ate my words over the next two hours as we tried in vain to un-stick the car using jacks, branches, rocks, and elbow grease. At one point they even let me drive while they pushed, but this didn't work either. As it turns out, the rear differential was completely lodged in the mud as well, and even the other car could not pull us out. We ended up regrouping to go finish the calf visits while someone else called a tractor to come rescue the car.
At the next farm, we realized we had left the sling for weighing calves in the stuck car, so we improvised with my shoulder bag and Steven's belt. Then we went back to the office and I went in search of food. Along the road I found lots of fruit and some cake, which I brought home and ended up sharing with the Turkeys. Charles was in the yard doing laundry under the papaya trees. When he got up from his stool, on of the turkeys jumped up on it and tried to tag her sister while she ran in circles around her making ridiculous noises. When they were done, the one on the stool pooped to leave her mark before hopping down. I never knew turkeys were so silly.
Monday, June 15, 2009
Arriving in Busia
On Tuesday morning my alarm finally went off at 4:40am. I had gotten up to check it at least 4 times before that. The taxi driver rang the doorbell at 4:55 as I was scarfing down yogurt so that I could take my antimalarial pill. He had been driving all night and we were his last customers of the shift. With no traffic we sped down the dark quiet roads to the hotel where the other students were waiting. They are both vet students at Edinburgh University in Scotland. Jon is 22 and from Singapore, and Eleonore is 26 and from France/Western Canada. We got to the airport in plenty of time, and after getting to the front of the only line there, we were told our flight was not yet open for check in. There were no seats, no newspapers, and not even a vending machine.
Eventually we watched the sun rise over a cup of coffee and some bananas. When we were let out onto the tarmac, it seemed like we could simply board any of the 6 or 7 planes out there. We briefly considered a quick trip to Zanzibar as we waited in line to climb up the steep steps. After all that waiting our flight to Kisumu was barely long enough to drink some juice and throw the cup away. We flew in low over the Eastern edge of Lake Victoria and were on the ground by 8am. Eleonore asked if she could swim in the lake (?!). We picked up the luggage without setting a foot inside and found our driver, Mike.
Unable to find any bathroom facilities at the airport, and feeling there were too many people to go behind a tree, Eleonore and I begged Mike to take us to a bathroom before the 2 hour ride to Busia commenced. He drove us downtown to a little restaurant, spoke to a person inside, and led us through the dining area and kitchen, into a cement courtyard outback. We took turns holding the door of the dark musty shack and exited the restaurant considerably happier. Then back through town, past hundred of people on bicycles, and onto the only road going West.
Mike had an old tape of a band called Michael Learns to Rock, or MLTR (ironically enough). I would not have known this except some of the lyrics have since been burned into my brain and I was just able to google them. If any of you are not familiar with this musical genius, please, enlighten yourselves! So, MLTR smoothly serenaded us as we wound through the countryside. Over and over again. At one point the sound became completely warped but it played on. The ride was easy enough except when the road ceased to exist for 5 foot stretches here and there and we had to slam on the brakes and either drive through the ditches or around them. We passed small houses, fields of corn and sorghum, women with barrels of water on their heads, men on bicycles, boys leading cows, the occasional truck, and a small town every 40 minutes or so. Jon and Eleonore took a nap but I was determined to stay awake and see everything. When it seemed we could take MLTR no longer, Jon saw a man with sugar cane on the back of his bike, and told Mike to pull over. The man was happy to sell a piece of his crop, so the three of them wrestled a 6 foot cane out of the bundle (under the supervision of a nearby policeman), and broke it up so it could fit in the back of the car. The next small town we came to was Busia.
We were taken to the ILRI office which is a back building among all the other local government buildings of Busia. Past the birth and death office, the guards with machine guns, and goats. We unloaded our things, met a thousand people face to face with a handshake, then loaded everything back into one of the huge range rover things and went back up the road to the house. Upon opening the gate, we were welcomed by two turkeys, a goat, and Charles the young man who cooked and took care of the house. Sam, the Kenyan vet and PhD student who lived there asked Eleonore and I if we were friends. Yes? We had just met the day before. Good, because you will be sharing a room. We soon found out that meant sharing a bed as well, but neither of us felt like staying alone at a hotel so we decided it was fine.
Sam then explained that there were 3 teams that went into the field every day. A group also stayed in the lab to process samples. Occasionally a field team was called out for clinical episodes when a cow got sick or post mortem (PM) exams. On the weekends I asked? No said Sam, cows don't have clinical episodes on Saturdays. Hah! When we got back to the office, the only thing left to do that day was a PM on a pig. I still have no idea why we had to do this, or why it took 4 vets and 4 vet students to complete, but we all piled into the car and set out to find the dead pig. There were actually 3 dead piglets and one that had been mistaken for dead already and was nearly there. The dead pig we cut open looked normal enough except for some lung worms (not normal but also probably not the cause of death) and I still have no idea what our conclusion was. We students suggested euthanizing the almost dead piglet, but the men had not brought any drugs with them and though it inhumane to do it any other way.
Then Sam took us out to lunch at a restaurant across the street from the office and we had whole fried talapia from Lake Victoria (which incidentally belongs to Egypt since it is the source of the Nile) and ugali (the traditional cornflour and water mixture). We were informed that this was a luxury since there would be no lunch on the days we were in the field. Back at the house Eleonore had a lengthy and loud conversation with the goat and Jon and I decided to go for a run. It was then I learned, repeatedly, that the Swahili word for white person is mazungu. I didn't mind when excited children called to us, but it was less endearing when men yelled it somewhat aggressively as we ran by. It was dusk when we turned off the main road on the way back home and we realized we had no idea which dirt road/driveway to turn down. We tried a few, passed many humorless faces, until a boy finally showed us a path through some back yards to the mazungu house. There was no doubt everyone knew exactly where we lived.
That night I helped Charles make fish and ugali and we all ate together at the table. Besides Sam, Amy also lives at the house. She is a young vet from the UK who is about to start her PhD in Busia. We took refreshingly cold showers under a trickle of water, said goodnight to Sam watching the news, and crawled into bed under our mosquito nets.
Eventually we watched the sun rise over a cup of coffee and some bananas. When we were let out onto the tarmac, it seemed like we could simply board any of the 6 or 7 planes out there. We briefly considered a quick trip to Zanzibar as we waited in line to climb up the steep steps. After all that waiting our flight to Kisumu was barely long enough to drink some juice and throw the cup away. We flew in low over the Eastern edge of Lake Victoria and were on the ground by 8am. Eleonore asked if she could swim in the lake (?!). We picked up the luggage without setting a foot inside and found our driver, Mike.
Unable to find any bathroom facilities at the airport, and feeling there were too many people to go behind a tree, Eleonore and I begged Mike to take us to a bathroom before the 2 hour ride to Busia commenced. He drove us downtown to a little restaurant, spoke to a person inside, and led us through the dining area and kitchen, into a cement courtyard outback. We took turns holding the door of the dark musty shack and exited the restaurant considerably happier. Then back through town, past hundred of people on bicycles, and onto the only road going West.
Mike had an old tape of a band called Michael Learns to Rock, or MLTR (ironically enough). I would not have known this except some of the lyrics have since been burned into my brain and I was just able to google them. If any of you are not familiar with this musical genius, please, enlighten yourselves! So, MLTR smoothly serenaded us as we wound through the countryside. Over and over again. At one point the sound became completely warped but it played on. The ride was easy enough except when the road ceased to exist for 5 foot stretches here and there and we had to slam on the brakes and either drive through the ditches or around them. We passed small houses, fields of corn and sorghum, women with barrels of water on their heads, men on bicycles, boys leading cows, the occasional truck, and a small town every 40 minutes or so. Jon and Eleonore took a nap but I was determined to stay awake and see everything. When it seemed we could take MLTR no longer, Jon saw a man with sugar cane on the back of his bike, and told Mike to pull over. The man was happy to sell a piece of his crop, so the three of them wrestled a 6 foot cane out of the bundle (under the supervision of a nearby policeman), and broke it up so it could fit in the back of the car. The next small town we came to was Busia.
We were taken to the ILRI office which is a back building among all the other local government buildings of Busia. Past the birth and death office, the guards with machine guns, and goats. We unloaded our things, met a thousand people face to face with a handshake, then loaded everything back into one of the huge range rover things and went back up the road to the house. Upon opening the gate, we were welcomed by two turkeys, a goat, and Charles the young man who cooked and took care of the house. Sam, the Kenyan vet and PhD student who lived there asked Eleonore and I if we were friends. Yes? We had just met the day before. Good, because you will be sharing a room. We soon found out that meant sharing a bed as well, but neither of us felt like staying alone at a hotel so we decided it was fine.
Sam then explained that there were 3 teams that went into the field every day. A group also stayed in the lab to process samples. Occasionally a field team was called out for clinical episodes when a cow got sick or post mortem (PM) exams. On the weekends I asked? No said Sam, cows don't have clinical episodes on Saturdays. Hah! When we got back to the office, the only thing left to do that day was a PM on a pig. I still have no idea why we had to do this, or why it took 4 vets and 4 vet students to complete, but we all piled into the car and set out to find the dead pig. There were actually 3 dead piglets and one that had been mistaken for dead already and was nearly there. The dead pig we cut open looked normal enough except for some lung worms (not normal but also probably not the cause of death) and I still have no idea what our conclusion was. We students suggested euthanizing the almost dead piglet, but the men had not brought any drugs with them and though it inhumane to do it any other way.
Then Sam took us out to lunch at a restaurant across the street from the office and we had whole fried talapia from Lake Victoria (which incidentally belongs to Egypt since it is the source of the Nile) and ugali (the traditional cornflour and water mixture). We were informed that this was a luxury since there would be no lunch on the days we were in the field. Back at the house Eleonore had a lengthy and loud conversation with the goat and Jon and I decided to go for a run. It was then I learned, repeatedly, that the Swahili word for white person is mazungu. I didn't mind when excited children called to us, but it was less endearing when men yelled it somewhat aggressively as we ran by. It was dusk when we turned off the main road on the way back home and we realized we had no idea which dirt road/driveway to turn down. We tried a few, passed many humorless faces, until a boy finally showed us a path through some back yards to the mazungu house. There was no doubt everyone knew exactly where we lived.
That night I helped Charles make fish and ugali and we all ate together at the table. Besides Sam, Amy also lives at the house. She is a young vet from the UK who is about to start her PhD in Busia. We took refreshingly cold showers under a trickle of water, said goodnight to Sam watching the news, and crawled into bed under our mosquito nets.
Monday, June 8, 2009
Jeff and Lillian
When I was in Thailand I remember thinking that no matter where I went afterward, it would always be different and never quite as real because I wouldn't have a host family. But the real lesson, I think, is that no matter where you are people are amazing. I spent Saturday night on the top bunk of a bed with a mother and her two children under me, in tiny cement hut in the village just down the road from ILRI. But let me start from the beginning.
While we were at the going away party for Sang, we spent a lot of time with Jeffrey, one of the other cooks. I learned that he was planning to move to the US with his wife in November, to join her sister. Where I asked. Bismark North Dakota. I mentioned that JJ had Fargo at his house and if he wanted to see what the landscape was like, he and the Ithaca boys could come over to watch it. He liked this idea, but instead invited us to his house. So later that evening, we met at the boys' house and got ready to walk home with Jeff.
I don't remember if I have talked about them in the past, but Will (18?) and Ben (16?) are here from Ithaca with their father and mother who is a plant scientist at Cornell on sabbatical. Will's friend Alex also came along, after he and Will graduated early from Ithaca High School. The older boys have been making themselves busy shooting movies all over Kenya, and Ben has been finishing up 10th grade at the international school in Nairobi. Ben is also one of the best young piano players I have heard since PVPA. They are all great guys and some of the more fun people at ILRI to hang out with.
While we were getting ready to go, it became evident that Jeff intended for us to spend the night. None of us were aware of or logistically prepared for this, but plans were made, numbers were given to parents, and we headed off down the road. In the dark it was not immediately obvious that we were 4 white kids in the middle of a somewhat rundown bustling market street on the outside of a large village. We made our way along the curb, around cars, and through people for about 15 minutes and then took a left off the road onto a residential path. The power had gone out so from candle light we saw homes, butcher shops, and fruit stands on either side. A smiling young woman met us on the path and we were introduced to Jeff's wife Lillian who is about my age and size. Then we took a right, ducked through a green metal gate with a door sized for 10 year olds, and found ourselves in the communal back yard of about 4 houses.
The power came back as we were shown into Jeff and Lillian's family room. It was small but comfortable, everything a different shade of blue, with plenty of seating reminiscent of dorm lounge furniture and seashells and candle sticks above the windows. There was a clock with a painting of the Eiffel Tour on in and the cloth on the circular table was red. We took our shoes off and sat down. The kitchen was no larger than a small bathroom so we were not permitted to help with the cooking for physical reasons. The DVDs I had brought could not be read by his DVD player, so instead we watched an episode of 24 from somewhere in the middle of one of the later seasons. We also enjoyed hot coffee and milk, and sandwiches made with butter and grated cheddar cheese. Jeff's twin sister (whose name I unforgivably can't remember) came over with her two children, a girl (again, the name eludes me) dressed completely in pink around 4 years, and a 4 month old boy named Stanley. She said hello, handed the baby to one of the boys, and went deeper into the house with Lillian. I took the opportunity to squeeze into the kitchen with Jeff and see what he was cooking.
I don't remember the names of the dishes, but there was a vegetable dish with peppers, carrots and tomatoes in a thick sauce, rice cooked with meat and spices, kale and spinach sauteed with onions, and a salad made from tomatoes, carrots, and avocado, simply dressed with lemon juice. Later a dish made from beans, peas, and pumpkin seeds would be remembered and retrieved from the microwave. As he cooked Jeff and I talked about the names of foods, cooking, being newlyweds, and the importance of having a well equipped kitchen. He was proud of his kitchen and I could tell he had spent a lot of money on the pots hanging above the sink. The water in the village only runs every few days, so a large covered bucket is housed next to the sink to provide washing and cooking water. The curtain in the window was white with red strawberries on it.
When it was time to eat Jeff said grace and we dug in. Ben got stuck holding the baby while we were getting food, but he didn't seem to mind. We ate and talked for a long time about Jeff and Lillian's move to North Dakota and what they could expect. We did the best we could, despite the fact that none of us had been there. We also talked about different cultures and when I asked what the significance was of the picture of flowers behind the TV being upside down, Jeff just laughed and turned it around. Evidently someone had moved it while cleaning and nobody had noticed. Then the coffee table was precariously propped up on a chair, a queen sized mattress was put on the floor for the boys, and I was told I would be sleeping in one of the bedrooms. I pretended to be disappointed at having to sleep alone, but Jeff just smiled and reassured me that I would NOT be alone. There was one bathroom with a porcelain hole in the floor, a bucket of water next to it, and toothbrushes hanging neatly on the wall. Jeff and Lillian had a bedroom but I never saw it.
Stanley, having been the most quiet and docile baby ever all evening, decided it was time to start crying, so we played with his sister while he was put to bed. She did not know any English, and was shy at first, but nothing a little peek-a-boo behind a place matt couldn't dissolve. Soon we were tickling and biting her feet and she was on the mattress shrieking with laughter. She didn't want to go to bed, but when I crying stopped we decided it was time to turn in. Lillian brought me a stool so I could climb into the upper bunk, and Jeff's sister and the kids went to bed below me. The combination of coffee, a full bladder, and dogs barking outside kept me up for a while, staring at the corrugated tin roof above my head, but eventually I got some sleep.
I woke up early to singing and shouting outside. If Jeff's sister had still been in bed, she would have seen a leg and foot searching for a way to reach the stool over the banister for a good minute or two, before squeezing between the bed and the wall to get down. But to my relief, only the kids were there, still asleep. I became painfully aware of the inflexibility of people raised in developed countries as I finally relieved my bladder and then went out into the living room. The curtains there were darker and the boys were fast asleep. I sat in a chair and watched Lillian and her sister in law go in and out of the house, preparing breakfast. The boys finally woke up, I was accused of being creepy for watching them sleep, and they bickered about snoring and bad breath.
The children's mother did her best to feed them some porridge but Stanley kept spitting it out and his sister would not eat it. In her frustration she swatted at her daughter but heard me laugh when I saw this and began laughing herself. Then the baby was passed around as we ate a huge breakfast of eggs, toast, butter, honey, tea with milk, and oranges. When it was time to go, Jeff and Lillian walked back with us and I had a chance to talk to Lillian for a while. She is currently volunteering with young mothers, teaching them first aid and basic life skills. They also make cards and jewelry out of paper beads that they sell to make money for the organization. I am hopefully going to visit with them one day soon.
At the roundabout, we were stopped by a man with a camera who told us we could not walk through unless we paid to have our picture taken. Apparently ILRI did not like the path that was forming from people walking through, so they gave this man permission to require photos of those wishing to pass. We got together, squinted into the sun, and got a receipt for 4 prints which we could pick up on Monday. Then we said goodbye and I went back to bed until 3 pm.
On another note, I am off to Busia (the countryside) tomorrow morning at 5 am. I will be there until Sunday and I expect to have limited internet access. It is supposed to be hot, beautiful, and rife with Malaria. I will tell you all about it when I get back!
While we were at the going away party for Sang, we spent a lot of time with Jeffrey, one of the other cooks. I learned that he was planning to move to the US with his wife in November, to join her sister. Where I asked. Bismark North Dakota. I mentioned that JJ had Fargo at his house and if he wanted to see what the landscape was like, he and the Ithaca boys could come over to watch it. He liked this idea, but instead invited us to his house. So later that evening, we met at the boys' house and got ready to walk home with Jeff.
I don't remember if I have talked about them in the past, but Will (18?) and Ben (16?) are here from Ithaca with their father and mother who is a plant scientist at Cornell on sabbatical. Will's friend Alex also came along, after he and Will graduated early from Ithaca High School. The older boys have been making themselves busy shooting movies all over Kenya, and Ben has been finishing up 10th grade at the international school in Nairobi. Ben is also one of the best young piano players I have heard since PVPA. They are all great guys and some of the more fun people at ILRI to hang out with.
While we were getting ready to go, it became evident that Jeff intended for us to spend the night. None of us were aware of or logistically prepared for this, but plans were made, numbers were given to parents, and we headed off down the road. In the dark it was not immediately obvious that we were 4 white kids in the middle of a somewhat rundown bustling market street on the outside of a large village. We made our way along the curb, around cars, and through people for about 15 minutes and then took a left off the road onto a residential path. The power had gone out so from candle light we saw homes, butcher shops, and fruit stands on either side. A smiling young woman met us on the path and we were introduced to Jeff's wife Lillian who is about my age and size. Then we took a right, ducked through a green metal gate with a door sized for 10 year olds, and found ourselves in the communal back yard of about 4 houses.
The power came back as we were shown into Jeff and Lillian's family room. It was small but comfortable, everything a different shade of blue, with plenty of seating reminiscent of dorm lounge furniture and seashells and candle sticks above the windows. There was a clock with a painting of the Eiffel Tour on in and the cloth on the circular table was red. We took our shoes off and sat down. The kitchen was no larger than a small bathroom so we were not permitted to help with the cooking for physical reasons. The DVDs I had brought could not be read by his DVD player, so instead we watched an episode of 24 from somewhere in the middle of one of the later seasons. We also enjoyed hot coffee and milk, and sandwiches made with butter and grated cheddar cheese. Jeff's twin sister (whose name I unforgivably can't remember) came over with her two children, a girl (again, the name eludes me) dressed completely in pink around 4 years, and a 4 month old boy named Stanley. She said hello, handed the baby to one of the boys, and went deeper into the house with Lillian. I took the opportunity to squeeze into the kitchen with Jeff and see what he was cooking.
I don't remember the names of the dishes, but there was a vegetable dish with peppers, carrots and tomatoes in a thick sauce, rice cooked with meat and spices, kale and spinach sauteed with onions, and a salad made from tomatoes, carrots, and avocado, simply dressed with lemon juice. Later a dish made from beans, peas, and pumpkin seeds would be remembered and retrieved from the microwave. As he cooked Jeff and I talked about the names of foods, cooking, being newlyweds, and the importance of having a well equipped kitchen. He was proud of his kitchen and I could tell he had spent a lot of money on the pots hanging above the sink. The water in the village only runs every few days, so a large covered bucket is housed next to the sink to provide washing and cooking water. The curtain in the window was white with red strawberries on it.
When it was time to eat Jeff said grace and we dug in. Ben got stuck holding the baby while we were getting food, but he didn't seem to mind. We ate and talked for a long time about Jeff and Lillian's move to North Dakota and what they could expect. We did the best we could, despite the fact that none of us had been there. We also talked about different cultures and when I asked what the significance was of the picture of flowers behind the TV being upside down, Jeff just laughed and turned it around. Evidently someone had moved it while cleaning and nobody had noticed. Then the coffee table was precariously propped up on a chair, a queen sized mattress was put on the floor for the boys, and I was told I would be sleeping in one of the bedrooms. I pretended to be disappointed at having to sleep alone, but Jeff just smiled and reassured me that I would NOT be alone. There was one bathroom with a porcelain hole in the floor, a bucket of water next to it, and toothbrushes hanging neatly on the wall. Jeff and Lillian had a bedroom but I never saw it.
Stanley, having been the most quiet and docile baby ever all evening, decided it was time to start crying, so we played with his sister while he was put to bed. She did not know any English, and was shy at first, but nothing a little peek-a-boo behind a place matt couldn't dissolve. Soon we were tickling and biting her feet and she was on the mattress shrieking with laughter. She didn't want to go to bed, but when I crying stopped we decided it was time to turn in. Lillian brought me a stool so I could climb into the upper bunk, and Jeff's sister and the kids went to bed below me. The combination of coffee, a full bladder, and dogs barking outside kept me up for a while, staring at the corrugated tin roof above my head, but eventually I got some sleep.
I woke up early to singing and shouting outside. If Jeff's sister had still been in bed, she would have seen a leg and foot searching for a way to reach the stool over the banister for a good minute or two, before squeezing between the bed and the wall to get down. But to my relief, only the kids were there, still asleep. I became painfully aware of the inflexibility of people raised in developed countries as I finally relieved my bladder and then went out into the living room. The curtains there were darker and the boys were fast asleep. I sat in a chair and watched Lillian and her sister in law go in and out of the house, preparing breakfast. The boys finally woke up, I was accused of being creepy for watching them sleep, and they bickered about snoring and bad breath.
The children's mother did her best to feed them some porridge but Stanley kept spitting it out and his sister would not eat it. In her frustration she swatted at her daughter but heard me laugh when I saw this and began laughing herself. Then the baby was passed around as we ate a huge breakfast of eggs, toast, butter, honey, tea with milk, and oranges. When it was time to go, Jeff and Lillian walked back with us and I had a chance to talk to Lillian for a while. She is currently volunteering with young mothers, teaching them first aid and basic life skills. They also make cards and jewelry out of paper beads that they sell to make money for the organization. I am hopefully going to visit with them one day soon.
At the roundabout, we were stopped by a man with a camera who told us we could not walk through unless we paid to have our picture taken. Apparently ILRI did not like the path that was forming from people walking through, so they gave this man permission to require photos of those wishing to pass. We got together, squinted into the sun, and got a receipt for 4 prints which we could pick up on Monday. Then we said goodbye and I went back to bed until 3 pm.
On another note, I am off to Busia (the countryside) tomorrow morning at 5 am. I will be there until Sunday and I expect to have limited internet access. It is supposed to be hot, beautiful, and rife with Malaria. I will tell you all about it when I get back!
Boof Babies
Looking back on last week a few snapshots come to mind.
After emailing back and forth with Laura who is departing for the Democratic Republic of Congo in a few weeks, I briefly considered visiting her while she is there. She is involved in a like-minded development project (www.workingvillages.org) so we are cooking up a scheme to save the world together. But after I realized that it would require a surprising amount of money and traveling alone in Rwanda and the not so friendly part of DR Congo by bus and plane, I decided against it.
Things continued to be hit or miss in the lab. On Friday afternoon I was feeling especially bad about my progress so far when Phil asked me to meet him in his office. I expected him to yell at me and half hoped he would, but he was actually very encouraging. He reminded me that this is how lab work goes and we had a good talk about my data so far and where to go next. Somewhere between the pep talk and his wife's homemade chocolates I began to feel better.
After work on Friday I went for a walk around ILRI with Cassandra and the liver-spotted Dalmatian, Basil. A variety of factors can make this walk slightly unpleasant: heat, trash and meat scraps on the path dropped by scavenging birds, the trash burning "facility" at the bottom of the hill giving off a not-so-homey-smelling stream of smoke, the broken microscope slides in front of the trash burning oven that fell off the cart on the way down the hill, Basil pooping or peeing on everything we pass (including cars and buildings), and the muscle necrosing hill that you invariably have to climb. But this evening I was distracted from all of this by the breathtaking scenery. The sun was setting in such a way that the light everywhere was golden. Huge billowing clouds reflected the light as small patches of indigo sky peeked through. The sloping pastures on either side of the path were vividly green and dotted with cows enjoying the cool evening. Dark birds with billowing tails that weigh them down and make them fly almost completely upright flew between the trees, and thousands of others called from every direction. Then Basil found some cows to bark at and we had to chase him away before he was gored by a feisty little heifer. I love that the cows here, even the black and white ones, have horns.
When I returned Basil home, Derek his owner invited me over to watch a movie after his kids went to sleep. The movie (some creepy murder mystery horror thriller) was one of the worst I have seen, but scared me enough to make a mental list of people I could go spend the night with if need be. But I ended up staying and chatting with Derek for a while before I left so I had time to calm down. He is from New Zealand and his wife (who was sitting exams for her MBA program in South Africa) is from Poland. They are the ones who loaned me the sleeping bag earlier. Although Derek started as a vet student, he ended up in Agricultural Economics and got his PhD from Penn State. He has traveled and lived all over the world and it was great to hear his take on ILRI, working abroad, raising a family abroad, farming in different areas of the world, the role of vets, and the politics between all the strong personalities here. We also arranged for me to house/pet sit for two weeks at the end of June while they are on vacation.
The next morning Cassandra and I caught a ride to the supermarket, did laundry, and read by the pool. On the way back to my house we were called over to join a celebration that had been set up on the lawn. It was a retirement party for a man who had worked as a chef in the ILRI kitchen for 34 years. He was not there yet so we waited with the Ithaca High School boys in the mean time. Our volleyball friend Jeffrey, a fellow colleague from the kitchen, was there grilling sausages. They were about 4 inches in diameter and made from cow intestines stuffed with spiced goat meat and tripe. I wasn't particularly sad they were not ready yet. We were also given a strip of paper with the numbers 1 2 3 printed on it and told we could use these drink tickets at the bar.
After waiting at least 2 hours for the guest of honor to arrive, a white Toyota wagon finally pulled up and approximately 9 or 10 people climbed out. They were seated at the only table under the tent and the rest of us took chairs all facing forwards in rows. The guests were welcomed, grace was said, and we got in line for the food. While we were eating our stew containing veggies and chunks of broken rib bones and meat, a series of speeches were delivered. Sang, the guest of honor, had been at ILRI since before I was born and longer than anyone else there. You might therefore imagine an older, maybe graying, man sitting with his family, but this guy could have passed for 35. Robustly dressed in the two top pieces of a tan three piece suit and a baseball cap, with huge teeth protruding from his upper jaw, he smiled and ate his food while just about everyone there got up to say something. One man said he would clone Sang if the laws allowed, others attributed his youthfulness to a vegetarian diet, and then the cake was brought out. It was white with pink flowers and in the shape of a guitar. Sang and his wife cut the cake together, fed each other large bites, and then proceeded to call up and hand feed everyone who had made a speech. I learned later that this is a Kenyan custom to show respect.
After being there for at least 3 hours, we took the dessert break as an opportunity to shake Sang's hand and head home. But not before a slurring man in a mustard yellow shirt could come over to Cassandra and I and tell us what beautiful ("boof" is actually what he said) babies we were, and smart babies, and that she was a boof baby but I was a really boof baby but she shouldn't be offended just because I was more boof she was still boof and could he have a picture with us. By the time we had caught our breath from laughing he had forgotten about the picture and was headed towards the bar.
After emailing back and forth with Laura who is departing for the Democratic Republic of Congo in a few weeks, I briefly considered visiting her while she is there. She is involved in a like-minded development project (www.workingvillages.org) so we are cooking up a scheme to save the world together. But after I realized that it would require a surprising amount of money and traveling alone in Rwanda and the not so friendly part of DR Congo by bus and plane, I decided against it.
Things continued to be hit or miss in the lab. On Friday afternoon I was feeling especially bad about my progress so far when Phil asked me to meet him in his office. I expected him to yell at me and half hoped he would, but he was actually very encouraging. He reminded me that this is how lab work goes and we had a good talk about my data so far and where to go next. Somewhere between the pep talk and his wife's homemade chocolates I began to feel better.
After work on Friday I went for a walk around ILRI with Cassandra and the liver-spotted Dalmatian, Basil. A variety of factors can make this walk slightly unpleasant: heat, trash and meat scraps on the path dropped by scavenging birds, the trash burning "facility" at the bottom of the hill giving off a not-so-homey-smelling stream of smoke, the broken microscope slides in front of the trash burning oven that fell off the cart on the way down the hill, Basil pooping or peeing on everything we pass (including cars and buildings), and the muscle necrosing hill that you invariably have to climb. But this evening I was distracted from all of this by the breathtaking scenery. The sun was setting in such a way that the light everywhere was golden. Huge billowing clouds reflected the light as small patches of indigo sky peeked through. The sloping pastures on either side of the path were vividly green and dotted with cows enjoying the cool evening. Dark birds with billowing tails that weigh them down and make them fly almost completely upright flew between the trees, and thousands of others called from every direction. Then Basil found some cows to bark at and we had to chase him away before he was gored by a feisty little heifer. I love that the cows here, even the black and white ones, have horns.
When I returned Basil home, Derek his owner invited me over to watch a movie after his kids went to sleep. The movie (some creepy murder mystery horror thriller) was one of the worst I have seen, but scared me enough to make a mental list of people I could go spend the night with if need be. But I ended up staying and chatting with Derek for a while before I left so I had time to calm down. He is from New Zealand and his wife (who was sitting exams for her MBA program in South Africa) is from Poland. They are the ones who loaned me the sleeping bag earlier. Although Derek started as a vet student, he ended up in Agricultural Economics and got his PhD from Penn State. He has traveled and lived all over the world and it was great to hear his take on ILRI, working abroad, raising a family abroad, farming in different areas of the world, the role of vets, and the politics between all the strong personalities here. We also arranged for me to house/pet sit for two weeks at the end of June while they are on vacation.
The next morning Cassandra and I caught a ride to the supermarket, did laundry, and read by the pool. On the way back to my house we were called over to join a celebration that had been set up on the lawn. It was a retirement party for a man who had worked as a chef in the ILRI kitchen for 34 years. He was not there yet so we waited with the Ithaca High School boys in the mean time. Our volleyball friend Jeffrey, a fellow colleague from the kitchen, was there grilling sausages. They were about 4 inches in diameter and made from cow intestines stuffed with spiced goat meat and tripe. I wasn't particularly sad they were not ready yet. We were also given a strip of paper with the numbers 1 2 3 printed on it and told we could use these drink tickets at the bar.
After waiting at least 2 hours for the guest of honor to arrive, a white Toyota wagon finally pulled up and approximately 9 or 10 people climbed out. They were seated at the only table under the tent and the rest of us took chairs all facing forwards in rows. The guests were welcomed, grace was said, and we got in line for the food. While we were eating our stew containing veggies and chunks of broken rib bones and meat, a series of speeches were delivered. Sang, the guest of honor, had been at ILRI since before I was born and longer than anyone else there. You might therefore imagine an older, maybe graying, man sitting with his family, but this guy could have passed for 35. Robustly dressed in the two top pieces of a tan three piece suit and a baseball cap, with huge teeth protruding from his upper jaw, he smiled and ate his food while just about everyone there got up to say something. One man said he would clone Sang if the laws allowed, others attributed his youthfulness to a vegetarian diet, and then the cake was brought out. It was white with pink flowers and in the shape of a guitar. Sang and his wife cut the cake together, fed each other large bites, and then proceeded to call up and hand feed everyone who had made a speech. I learned later that this is a Kenyan custom to show respect.
After being there for at least 3 hours, we took the dessert break as an opportunity to shake Sang's hand and head home. But not before a slurring man in a mustard yellow shirt could come over to Cassandra and I and tell us what beautiful ("boof" is actually what he said) babies we were, and smart babies, and that she was a boof baby but I was a really boof baby but she shouldn't be offended just because I was more boof she was still boof and could he have a picture with us. By the time we had caught our breath from laughing he had forgotten about the picture and was headed towards the bar.
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
The Swing of Things
In stark contrast to weeks 1 and 1.8, I have work coming out of my ears in the lab now. After spending hours carefully picking specific samples from a -80 degree freezer all day last Friday, trying not to burn off my finger tips, I now have a pile of cow serum samples to analyze. My plan was to look at half on Tuesday and the other half on Wednesday. I had flown through my training easily enough, so I was excited and ready to go on Tuesday morning. For those of you who are interested, I am testing for Theileria parva antibodies in serum using an ELISA. After working hard for about 3 hours on Tuesday morning, I added the substrate as the final step and waited for the color to change. Nothing. Something was wrong. And I had no idea what. There was nothing to do but try again in the afternoon. Through this process I at least figured out what I had done wrong (really stupid measurement mistake) but the new batch of conjugate antibody had not yet been titrated (not my fault) and was not strong enough, so assay #2 was also useless. Day one of my project, down the drain.
This morning I woke up ready to go again. The first assay worked in the morning and I finally had some results. But through this process I came to realize that our pipettes for measuring everything down to very exact amounts are not as reliable as one would hope. I had carefully measured 50 microliters of serum from each animal, but after only removing 20 microliters for experiments, some of my tubes were nearly empty. Also, the multipipetter had cracked, so it now required 3 hands to function. Sigh. I didn't want to make excuses for my slow progress, but this was frustrating. As I struggled with the wash/suction device, Alice came over to help me. She said "washing can be really frustrating (because the vacuum doesn't work), that's why I make Dickens do it". But to her credit she spent the next half hour fixing the machine which I really appreciated. Then, pleased with herself, she chirped "old is gold". I had her repeat that a few times and finally understood that she was saying her old experienced touch was best at fixing things. Is "old is gold" an English phrase that I just have never heard, or did she make that up?
I spent the afternoon and evening running 3 times the number of samples I usually do in order to conserve my stock samples of variable volumes (you make a batch in the morning every day, but it is only good for that day). Alice told me I was working too hard before she left. I was relieved that Dickens was there to help me analyze everything in the end, until I realized that he had been sticking around just for me, probably at Alice's request. I have to get him a present or something.
While I was working I also the opportunity to talk to Salma, the older Sudanese woman in the lab working on her PhD. Since I had just finished 'What is the What' I asked her about living in Sudan and she told me a lot about her take on the conflict there (which until recently I had known barely anything about) and how it affected her life in Northern Sudan. Her main point was that it is silly to try to explain the conflict as the result of racial differences, because Sudanese people are and have always been a diverse mixture of ethnic groups. We also talked about veterinary medicine: the luxuries of being able to give your dog dialysis (obviously unheard of where she comes from), and the similarities of practicing production medicine there and in the US (the need, the clientele, and the reward of being so useful in the lives of so many).
Between the morning and afternoon lab sessions, I gathered up my nerve and went running again with the reception gals. Things went much better this time (I even made it all the way up the hill!) which I attribute to being hydrated, somewhat acclimatized to the altitude, and the milder weather. This time I was able to notice what I was running by. Just outside ILRI is a roundabout with a park in the middle. Lots of people are always there, mostly just laying around and hanging out as trucks belch exhaust all around them. As we headed off in one of the 7 or so directions, I was briefly gagged by the smell of garbage all along the road. Just beyond that were small fields of corn and other veggies near small houses. Then through a market with chickens picking through trash, ducks drinking out of puddles, and men honking and whistling at us. I was glad I couldn't understand them. Then we went down the dirt hill to "the tree". You can identify "the tree" by the sign that hangs on it. It is an advertisement to call for help for just about any malady including impotence, boredom, low salary, relationship problems, debt, and pretty much anything else you can think of. On the way back the school kids were walking home. Tiny children in small groups, or too often by themselves. One little boy who couldn't have been older than 4 was just strolling along the highway by himself. As we ran past them they gave us high fives, and you could hear them giggling behind us as we ran on.
Now I'm back home, for another solitary evening. I don't mind the time alone so much any more since I am busy during the day. Plus, the maid does the dishes :) JJ literally has drawers full of pudding, sauce, and dip packets, so I did my best to interpret the pictures and German instructions for making vanilla pudding. Despite having to reconstitute a block of cream (nearly butter at this point) back into milk, it turned out pretty good. Now it's time to drink tea and read until I fall asleep.
This morning I woke up ready to go again. The first assay worked in the morning and I finally had some results. But through this process I came to realize that our pipettes for measuring everything down to very exact amounts are not as reliable as one would hope. I had carefully measured 50 microliters of serum from each animal, but after only removing 20 microliters for experiments, some of my tubes were nearly empty. Also, the multipipetter had cracked, so it now required 3 hands to function. Sigh. I didn't want to make excuses for my slow progress, but this was frustrating. As I struggled with the wash/suction device, Alice came over to help me. She said "washing can be really frustrating (because the vacuum doesn't work), that's why I make Dickens do it". But to her credit she spent the next half hour fixing the machine which I really appreciated. Then, pleased with herself, she chirped "old is gold". I had her repeat that a few times and finally understood that she was saying her old experienced touch was best at fixing things. Is "old is gold" an English phrase that I just have never heard, or did she make that up?
I spent the afternoon and evening running 3 times the number of samples I usually do in order to conserve my stock samples of variable volumes (you make a batch in the morning every day, but it is only good for that day). Alice told me I was working too hard before she left. I was relieved that Dickens was there to help me analyze everything in the end, until I realized that he had been sticking around just for me, probably at Alice's request. I have to get him a present or something.
While I was working I also the opportunity to talk to Salma, the older Sudanese woman in the lab working on her PhD. Since I had just finished 'What is the What' I asked her about living in Sudan and she told me a lot about her take on the conflict there (which until recently I had known barely anything about) and how it affected her life in Northern Sudan. Her main point was that it is silly to try to explain the conflict as the result of racial differences, because Sudanese people are and have always been a diverse mixture of ethnic groups. We also talked about veterinary medicine: the luxuries of being able to give your dog dialysis (obviously unheard of where she comes from), and the similarities of practicing production medicine there and in the US (the need, the clientele, and the reward of being so useful in the lives of so many).
Between the morning and afternoon lab sessions, I gathered up my nerve and went running again with the reception gals. Things went much better this time (I even made it all the way up the hill!) which I attribute to being hydrated, somewhat acclimatized to the altitude, and the milder weather. This time I was able to notice what I was running by. Just outside ILRI is a roundabout with a park in the middle. Lots of people are always there, mostly just laying around and hanging out as trucks belch exhaust all around them. As we headed off in one of the 7 or so directions, I was briefly gagged by the smell of garbage all along the road. Just beyond that were small fields of corn and other veggies near small houses. Then through a market with chickens picking through trash, ducks drinking out of puddles, and men honking and whistling at us. I was glad I couldn't understand them. Then we went down the dirt hill to "the tree". You can identify "the tree" by the sign that hangs on it. It is an advertisement to call for help for just about any malady including impotence, boredom, low salary, relationship problems, debt, and pretty much anything else you can think of. On the way back the school kids were walking home. Tiny children in small groups, or too often by themselves. One little boy who couldn't have been older than 4 was just strolling along the highway by himself. As we ran past them they gave us high fives, and you could hear them giggling behind us as we ran on.
Now I'm back home, for another solitary evening. I don't mind the time alone so much any more since I am busy during the day. Plus, the maid does the dishes :) JJ literally has drawers full of pudding, sauce, and dip packets, so I did my best to interpret the pictures and German instructions for making vanilla pudding. Despite having to reconstitute a block of cream (nearly butter at this point) back into milk, it turned out pretty good. Now it's time to drink tea and read until I fall asleep.
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