Ithaca is Gorges. Bangata is Beautiful.

Although it would take multiple blogs to sufficiently talk about everything that has happened since we arrived in Bangata on Sunday, I have not written a word in my journal. All of my spare time has been spent studying Swahili in hopes of having a decent conversation with my Mama by the time we leave Bangata. (Hey, a girl can dream)
 

Rather than trying to detail the ups and downs, miscommunications and misunderstandings, awkward and remarkable moments that have occurred in our first three days of homestay, I am just going to highlight a few things.

1.  It is only befitting that I start off by thanking Ajeet for the English to Swahili pocket dictionary that he gave me. It has saved my life this week! Incase you haven’t picked up, the language barrier has proven to make simple tasks extremely complex. Although we have 4 hours of Swahili lessons every morning and I feel like I am improving substantially every day, I am constantly frustrated by my inability to express myself and understand others. My go-to word is “Sielewi” (I don’t understand) and I’ve realized that the only thing one can do is to laugh along with those laughing at/with me.

2.  My immediate family is made up of my Mama, Levis who is 15, Erick (nicknamed Mba) who is 10, and Glory (nicknamed Baby) who is 4. Our Baba works at a hotel in Nairobi but is coming home this weekend. Levis speaks some English (and Mama seems to have picked up some words) which is extremely helpful, although he is gone most the day. We live next door to one of my classmates, Jake, one one side, and Bibi (grandmother) on the other. There are constantly kids running between yards, fetching water and going from one house to another. It is a very communal way of living and Jake and I still aren’t 100% sure who belongs to what family.

3.  Our house is in a village called Ngiresi located right next to Bangata. The views of Mt. Meru and the sunset from the village are absolutely astounding. In the mornings, I walk to school with several classmates who live nearby. Our walk is down a steep hill, through banana and maize fields, across a river (which I fell into yesterday), and up another steep climb. Even though Mama makes me bathe every morning before school, by the time we arrive I have broken a sweat and my feet are covered in dirt.

4.  Our house consists of 4 bedrooms and a living room/kitchen. The living room has several couches and chairs, a TV and DVD player, a stereo, a coffee table, a fridge (at least that’s what I think it is), and religious and motivational posters dotting the walls. My favorite is a poster with the 35 “World’s Worst Dictators”— including Hitler, Gaddafi, Hussein, and Margaret Thatcher— which I was told that Baba got in Nairobi. My bedroom is spacious and simple with a full-size bed, a small table, and a chair. I am awaken every morning, at nearly 6 on the dot, to the sound chickens coo-ing outside.

5.  My days consists of going to Swahili lessons, doing homework and running around with my classmates at the Center (where class is held), and returning home before dark I am welcomed home to tea, and then attempt to help Mama cook dinner (She is an amazing cook and I am probably just cramping her style), playing with the children, and standing idly by. When dinner is served, around 8PM, the TV is switched on and our evenings so far have been spent with eyes glued to the screen watching a movie called Brothers which I'm pretty they all have memorized. (Levis' other favorite DVD consists of probably a dozen Eddie Murphy movies and a menu that is in Chinese)

6. The first night in Bangata, I was woken abruptly in the middle of the night by Mama yelling outside my door. Since I had no idea what she was saying and didn't know the Swahili for "hold on", I jumped out of bed and rushed to cover up my legs with my kanga. She came into the room shining a flashlight around, still yelling, as I stood in confusion saying "Sielewi!". I was then pulled into another bedroom where she shined the light on a bunch of ants crawling around the concrete floor and then threw salt at them. I was then escorted back into my room where the light was shone again light a spotlight once more before she left. Unsure what had just happened or what to do next, I crawled back into bed. Around 3 AM I was woken again my what sounded like a violent chicken fight in living room. It's funny how chickens (and 4-day-old chicks!) parading through the house, jumping on couches, and being chased out, has become a norm.

 A few other afterthoughts that I do not have time to elaborate on:

- My family does not have a kitchen table and eats on the couch, often with our hands, with I thoroughly enjoy. (See Dad, table manners are overrated) 

- People here have the cleanest clothes I've ever seen. And let me tell you, hand washing is NOT an easy task.