from Dadaab to Mombasa

 

Wow.  I found a superfast internet cafe so i'm uploading lots of pictures, yay!

These are:

1 - some of the people we worked with in Dadaab

2 - Marika, Josh, and Erin looking tore up after our hellish busride from Garissa to Mombasa.  There was a hole in the floor of the bus near josh's feet that was like a direct funnel of dirt and dust, in addition to the mouthfuls of dirt coming in through the open windows (which you wanted to have open, otherwise you'll pass out from heat stroke).  The passenger next to Marika threw up into a plastic bag, which then split open and coated Marika's leg and seat.  The passenger in the aisle next to Erin and I (they pack the bus so full that the aisles are FULL of standing passengers...on a 10hr bus trip) threw up several times straight on to the floor, so we had to sit with our legs up against the seat in front of us, until someone brought a bag of dirt on to the bus to coat the vomit-soaked floor.  It was as if it wasn't the first time it had happened.  Oh yeah, I was sitting on the sun-facing side of the bus and got a nasty sunburn on the whole left side of my neck and arm.  It was one of those experiences that really makes you question what the hell you're doing there, but also so bad that you just have to laugh.

3/4 - of course we forgot all about the bus from hell when we found Vindigo Cottages in Diani Beach (south of Mombasa), where Josh and Vanessa and I had stayed almost 3 years ago...simple little cottages right on the beach, with a local fisherman who rides by on his bike everyday.  We bought red snapper from him, which he's fillet-ing in this photo...other days we got prawns which he cleaned and deveined, and he also had a basket full of crab, lobster, squid, etc.

5 - This is our friend Geoff who we met when we stayed here almost 3 years ago...we ran in to him this time on the beach during a morning walk near our cottage.

6 - little bastard monkeys that are ALL over Diani beach...when we were here 3 years ago they broke in to our cottage and stole a bag of pasta, took it up to the roof, and proceeded to taunt us by eating it within our sight and dropping pieces on us while we layed in the sun.  This time, while we were preparing lunch in the kitchen, we saw that one of the monkeys had let himself in the front door and was perched precariously on our dining table.  When he realized that he'd been seen, he grabbed our giant, perfectly ripe avocado like a football and made a b-line for the door and escaped.  We chased him out but by that time he was sitting smugly on the roof and the avocado had already been pillaged.

Beirut pics

 

this photo took about 45 minutes to upload on the wonderful internet in beirut, so it'll be a while until i have the patience to sit here while more photos upload!

This is me with the lovely Nancy on the left and Christine on the right, friends from the 2007 Kenya trip (and Christine is the one who helped us set up our Dadaab experience).

Hi! Kifak, ça va?

Beirut really is as exciting as I've heard, just like any European city you imagine, people are sitting in cafes late at night talking politics and chain smoking.  One of the most remarkable things we've all noticed is how unbelievably friendly and helpful people are.  Beyond just trying to help us learn a word or two of arabic, if you tell someone you're lost they'll walk you where you need to go, if you tell them you're looking for an apartment, they'll spend half the day wandering the streets with you trying to help negotiate a good deal. 

One part that I love most so far, is walking down the street and hearing people use Arabic, French, and English interchangeably, which is where I got the title of this entry - it's something that the "youngins" sometimes say - Hi (English), Kifak (Arabic), ca va (French).  There are definitely more English speakers than French speakers so far, which is a little bit of a bummer since I was hoping to brush up on my Francais...but Josh is trying to learn French so I get to review random vocabulary and phrases when they come up.

It was through the kindness of a total stranger than we found our awesome apartment.  We met this guy the other day who, when you picture the stereotype of the classic Arab man: greased back hair, partially unbuttoned shirt with really hairy chest adorned with a thick silver chain, tight fashionable jeans, who introduced himself as an ex-pilot to make sure his manhood was reinforced, he fit it perfectly.  [DISCLAIMER: i'm including this stereotype not in a judgmental way, with no ill will or offense meant - in the same way that I constantly get told how snobby and pretentious-sounding French people are.  Stereotypes exist and this guy was physically representative of one, but as a person he was genuinely kind!].  He owns one of the food stands that we frequented in the first 2 days here, and when we told him we were looking for an apartment, he called some people and the next day took us to see the best deal for the money (by far) that we had come across.  Beirut is almost comparable to LA in terms of the size of space you get for your money.

We ended up with a place on the top/8th floor of a building in a cute neighborhood called Hamra, within walking distance to the American University and all the nearby shops and restaurants and cafes.  Best of all is the AMAZING ice cream place right at the foot of our building...yummy mango and pistachio and cheesecake... And there is a bustling Lebanese fast-food spot called Barbar Restaurant where you can get Manaeesh (kind of pita-like bread with Zaatar (thyme) or jebneh (a mild white cheese), zaatar with jebneh, and I've been getting it with cucumber, mint, and tomato...And it's less than $2.  If you walk down a few blocks toward the university it gets more expensive, but we're just on the edge of town where things are priced for the locals which is awesome for our shoestring budget.

Yesterday was our first day of work here.  I forgot to bring my (short) white coat with me on this trip, so on our first day in Haifa Hospital in Burj Al-Barajneh camp (a Palestinian refugee camp in southern Beirut that has existed for over 60 years) I was loaned a (LONG) white coat.  It's scary, people expect you know stuff when you wear a long coat, they call you doctor, they hold you to a much higher standard...Intern year is gonna be scary (but exciting!).  There's much less hoop-jumping here compared to the camps in Kenya - we asked the hospital director about interviewing people about their experiences here and he said no-problem.

For clinical work, they asked that we all split up since the hospital doesn't get too busy, so that we don't overlap with the patients that are here.  I've been in the OB/Gyn department the last 2 days, which has consisted mostly of prenatal visits.  There are funny non-smoking signs throughout the hospital that have the classic picture of a cigarette with a red line through it, but the funny part is that next to the cigarette is a picture of a giant hookah water pipe thingy.  Oh yeah, there's also a picture of a machine gun with a red line through it, just in case you wanted to come see the doctor with your automatic weapon.

Not only do the doctors chain smoke in between seeing each patient, but the nurse left her cigarette burning during one patient visit, she just set it off to the side of the desk.  Remember - this is the prenatal visit office.  I asked if patients can smoke in their room and i was told "Oh no.  But they sometimes do."  A pack of cigs here costs less than a dollar...it's pretty sad...at the end of the day, our hair and all our clothes reek of tobacco smoke.  Right now i'm in one of the only non-smoking places in Beirut, upstairs in a cafe full of expats, but everyone is sitting outside and smoking, there are only 2 other people up here.

Today I got to assist on an urgent C-section in the hospital.  Before going to scrub in, the female OB surgeon and I changed in to scrubs and walked in to the office area.  She sprayed herself with perfume and saw me start to smile, at which point i'm assuming she should thought I wanted some and she walked over and sprayed me twice and asked - "you like?? it's Euphoria."  Maybe it's me, but it just seemed a little odd right before you go scrub...

Throughout the case, the OR was full of quiet but anxious chants of "Bismillah" from the surgeons and nurses.  I got to suction the floppy blue baby when they pulled it out of the uterus, and was pretty relieved when it pinked up and started screaming.  As they were closing up the patient, the electricity went out.  This happened the day before as well, so people just pause what they're doing and wait for the generators to kick in.  Makes you wonder how stressful that could be if you were doing brain surgery.

So we'll see how these 3 weeks go.  We're all going to be rotating through the emergency dept, internal med, and maybe pediatrics, as well as trying to set up interviews for our video project, and have some fun in the mean time.  The internet companies here are owned by the government so they all charge a ridiculous fee - and they charge per MB or GB of usage, so it's too expensive and slow to try to upload any pictures yet...  i'm working on a way to figure that out.

our last day in Dadaab...at Hagadera

Today we had the opportunity to go in to the 3rd and final camp here in Dadaab called Hagadera.  It was one of the first camps (with Ifo) to be established here.  Our lovely guide was our friend Abdi who is a Kenyan of Somali origin (a "kenyan-somali," pictured 4th from left below), so his rapport with the residents in the camps is strengthened by his ability to relate and communicate in Somali, Kiswahili, and English.  He knew a Somali family that was willing to meet with us, so we were eager to speak with someone who effectively would represent the majority of refugees here.  

Muhammad (3rd from left, below) came to Dadaab when he was 2 years old, after his father was killed in the violence in Somalia.  He has lived here all his life, and is now 21 years old and has a wife and beautiful 6 month old daughter.  He showed us around his family's compound - about 4 or 5 rooms (bedrooms and a kitchen) - that they had built over the years out of the sticks and branches and tin roofs provided by various NGOs.  He talked about his experiences growing up here, going to school, looking for work, his perception of the healthcare in the camps, and the relationships between the refugees and NGOs.

 

Muhammad's mother is still living with him (picture below), and although she looks less than pleased in the photo, she actually changed into her nicer outfit after I asked her if I could photograph her.  The interior of their house is seen below, with the blue bed net (called a fly-net instead of mosquito-net here, since malaria is incredibly rare in this region at this time of year) covering Muhammad's sleeping baby.  

Needless to say, our visit caused quite the raucus in their block, and suddenly we found ourselves surrounded by upwards of 50 women and children, with some older boys scattered in the crowd.  When we went to see where their family gets their water, several of the older young men were taking pictures of us foreigners with their cell phone cameras, which was actually refreshing that we were as unfamiliar to them as they were to us.  Speaking of cell phone cameras...this camp has the most amazing market, where even NGO workers go to shop for goods.  They've even set up their own banking system (and remember, there are no real banks or ATMs in dadaab) where their relatives who have been resettled in Minnesota can send them money and they'll have access to that cash the next day. 

  One last stop we made was at a local swimming/drinking/etc hole.  This is from rainwater from SEvERAL months ago, which may not strike someone as very odd, but it's so incredibly hot here...it's amazing that it lasts so long without drying out.  Abdi said "yeah...those kids will all present to clinic in a couple months with hematuria...," (blood in their urine) because the Somalis tend to bring a parasite called Schistosomiasis with them and pass it via urination or defecation in the water.  Let alone all the goats and camels that also use this water as a drinking and bathing source.  But if I was one of those kids, i'd be swimming in that oasis in a heartbeat...schistosomes or not!

  

Where I live...until Thursday

My room:












Burqua's hanging out to dry outside my room.

A gorgeous chameleon i almost stepped on (i thought it was a leaf on the ground).  Check out the feet!

My patio, with homemade broom and broken chair

My shower bucket and lovely toilet.







View from outside

One of the huts of the staff

things to do in Dadaab for fun.

Everyday around 4ish, there’s afternoon tea.  Why anyone thought it was a great idea to serve hot hot tea in crazy hot humid weather is beyond me, and yet I still go and get myself a cup.  Of course as soon as you start drinking it, you start sweating (that actually happens to all of us at meal time too).  Another habit we’ve gotten in, a bad one, is having an afternoon coca cola…this one makes a little more sense…having an ice cold sugary beverage is the epitome of refreshing.  But I think we’ve all drank more soda since we’ve been here, than in the last 6 months.  That, combined with the breakfast that consists of triangular donuts (Mandazi) and white bread rolls with red plum jam, we all feel like we’re working on acquiring diabetes.

One other thing that’s really popular here is SUPER cheesy movies and tv shows.  Think of the most cheesy predictable over-acted movies of the week on the Hallmark Channel, and you’ll get the idea.  I think the winner so far in terms of silliness is the Spanish tele-novelas dubbed into English, because the incredibly dramatic dialogue is carried out in this robotic, properly enunciated English.

Last night was the going away party for one of the CARE staff, over at “The Grease Pit” (the nightspot in the section of the compound where CARE operates out of.  In addition to the local beers (Tusker and Pilsner), ginger soda (Tangawizi), and Kenyan music blaring across the entire compound, there was a special meal prepared…roasted goat.  So, I’ve had goat quite a few times since getting here, but this goat was different.  In terms of texture it was by far and away the best I’ve had.  I was handed a giant bone with chunks of tender juicy meat and fat dangling by threads, dripping a peppery broth in which it had been bathed,  so I was excited to finally experience such a succulent piece of meat.  The flavor however, well I think Marika described it interestingly: “it tasts like what male goats smell like” – this coming from someone who grew up on a ranch with goats.  I took a few bites to make sure that I hadn’t gotten a foul piece, but it just wasn’t pleasant in any way.  So I told Josh he really needed to try it and passed my bone off to him unsuspectingly…but he actually ended up really liking it!

I was able to get my dance fix for several hours, having been away from salsa dancing for over a week now!  One friend (Rueben, who has been working in the pediatric malnutrition wing of the Ifo hospital for 3 years and plans to stay for 2 more) asked how I knew how to dance to their music…I told him my family has crazy dance parties from time to time, usually with Latin or African music, and that my dad passed on his dance genes to me.  Rueben would tell us where each of the songs originated from – east/west/north/south Kenya, and some from Tanzania and Uganda – and that each region has its own special dance moves (and yes, he demonstrated them all, it made me wish i had the video camera!).

So we danced to the wee hours (about midnight, i know, we're lame) while the locals stayed up all night and put us to shame, and we got to sleep in today since it’s our day off.  I tried to make it to breakfast about 5 minutes before they normally start to put things away, to try to at least get a cup of tea, and thinking I’d be the last person there…once again I was very wrong…most people didn’t show up for at least another hour!  Apparently lazy Sundays are widely recognized here.

This is it...headed to Ifo camp.

Wow, the last few days have gone by really fast.  And I just found out that I missed International Ice Cream for Breakfast Day, which I can't even make up for now, because there's NO ice cream in Dadaab!!! I asked...the closest is back in Garissa :(

First thing on our first full day, we met with Haffa (malaria coordinator for ADEO), Gilbot (HIV coordinator for ADEO), and Pauline (director of ADEO here) to create our schedule for the week and convey our list of objectives for our project.  Gilbot was amazingly helpful, telling us which NGO players would be great to interview, and even made the calls to schedule meetings.  He’s been the one helping us get place to place, making sure we’re safe, and being a great resource for information about the camps.

At the top of our agenda was “courtesy call” meetings.  Before anything gets done around here, you need to meet all the players to let them know who you are and why you’re here…and ask EVERYONE for their permission and blessing.   Gilbot took us to the UNHCR offices within the compound to meet with Martin (senior public health officer for the UNHCR) where we bombarded him with questions about the history of the camps and UNHCRs role here.  Before leaving, we asked Martin how he got involved in his current job here.  He explained that he worked for the ICRC for many years, an organization based around neutrality and confidentiality, and wanted to experience something completely different by working with the UNHCR.  We asked him why he got involved in humanitarian work in the first place, and the conversation abruptly got awkward when he responded “well that’s a very personal question,” and he didn’t seem eager to elaborate any further! 

Our next stop was a meeting with the DC (district coordinator).  The DC and DRA (director of refugee affairs) change every few months, sometimes it’s a short posting, sometimes people ask to leave and be posted elsewhere because this is a hard place to work, and sometimes people even intentionally screw up so that they’ll be reposted elsewhere.  It seems inefficient, since it takes a while to get in the swing of things and get to know people around here, but that’s just how it works.  We thought these would be quick meetings and we’d be on our way to the camp, and the meeting with the DC was in fact only about 3 minutes long, but the DRA was not quite as easy going.  Although we already had permission from the UNHCR and the PMO for the northeastern province, the DRA insisted that we needed permission from the government – he kept referring to “the commissioner in Nairobi” – before we could enter the camp and do any filming.  He told us to go home, type up an application (I asked if there was a formal application and he smiled and just told me to “just type one”…).  Within an hour we had our “Official Application for Permission to Enter the Refugee Camps at Dadaab” typed, printed and submitted, and it was magically approved shortly thereafter.   Ah how I love bureaucracy.

In order to enter the camps you need a police escort, aka – men with large guns, so we had to pay 2 on-duty police officers to come with us (it was 500 shillings per cop, which is roughly $7).  We had to explain to Gilbot how weird it was for us to pay police to do what (in America) would just be part of their work description, that money never changes hands between civilians and cops other than for bribes. 

We finally headed out to the hospital in the Ifo camp.  To give you an idea of how things are set up, there are 3 refugee camps here, about 250,000 people total.  Each of the 3 camps has 5 health outposts (so there’s one outpost for anywhere from 15,000-23,000 people) which is where they get their outpatient care.  From there, they can be referred to the hospital at their camp, so there are 3 total hospitals here, and each one is run by a different organization (Doctors w/o Borders, GTZ, and International Rescue Committee).  The Ifo hospital has about 99 beds, and are building new isolation wards for TB, measles, and cholera.  The doctors at Ifo were mostly Kenyan.  One really cool part of the visit was also a little shocking.  A man came up and stood right next to me, I assumed he had severe burn scars all over his face and eyes, but we later found out he has SEVERE ichthyosis (warning – if you google images of this disorder, be prepared because it can pretty shocking!).  He’s a Somali refugee who, upon coming to the camp, frightened the children here and was frequently stoned because of his appearance.  The hospital took him in and he now lives and works there, they wanted to show the people in the camps that they accept everyone, which I thought was pretty awesome.

One of the most moving parts of the day was when Preska (an outreach nurse in the camps) took us to the “blocks” (each camp is divided into ~9 sections, 1 section = 120 blocks, 1 block = 14-15 houses = 700-800 people).  We were invited in to meet with a Congolese family that Preska has worked with over the last 6 months.  Their current housing consisted of a large room with 4 walls, all made of large sticks and branches that are tied together with twine, and a roof also of sticks but with a large UNHCR tarp tied on top.  The fact that the walls are so porous was so nice because it let a cool breeze through the room, but I can't imagine how this structure stays intact in any kind of significant storm.  The refugees here are given the tarp and some large tree branches, but they are responsable for building their own "home."  The floor was also a UNHCR tarp, kept very clean, and a large foam mattress was in the corner.  Preska told us that all the different nationalities represented here at the camps have maintained their own separate identity in terms of how their houses are built, how they look inside and how tidy they're kept, how the people dress, and the food they prepare, and we hope to see what she means when we go back to visit with other families.  Five years ago during the war in Congo, Marcel (the dad) got split up from his wife and children, he ended up in Kenya and they in Tanzania.  Four years passed and they each figured the other was dead.  Then one day, the wife completely randomly ran in to an old acquaintance who had heard that Marcel was in a camp in Kenya, so they were able to be reunited…….Is that not completely amazing???  His wife also had taken in the children of a friend of theirs who had been killed, so now they are a family of 8, struggling here.  One of the children, a girl, her right shoulder is permanently dislocated from being severely beaten when she was in Congo during the war.  To find some brighter side of all this tragedy, there are mental health services in the camp hospitals so people can get counseling and medication if needed. 

After digesting the Ifo camp experience, and then digesting lunch (which everyday consists of rice, ugali, salty broth with tough meat, and cabbage/onion deliciousness), we had an interview with NCCK (National Council of Churches of Kenya).  I have to admit, I tried to read about their organization the night before, and all I could find online (remember – I’m using a dial-up speed connection so I can only surf the web for short increments of time before I get ridiculously frustrated at how slow each page loads!) was info on their religious activities, so I walked in to this interview with my own stereotypes and preconceptions about what they were probably doing in the camps, and what their limitations were.  Boy, was I totally wrong.  We spent most of the interview talking about their harm-reduction model for safer sex practices among female sex workers in the camp, and their family-planning efforts among the families here.  Of course they encourage sex workers to find other jobs (and they have job training available), but for women who want to stay in “the business,” they also provide “client negotiation skills training.”  They’ve also managed to get condom dispensers put up around the camps,  but are still struggling with willingness to get HIV tested because there have been many issues with confidentiality, or lack thereof.  We didn’t have time to talk with them about it, but they also do peace education, and help with contruction within the camps.  Overall I was sooo impressed with what they do, we all expected to hear about abstinence campaigns.

  

more photos!

The 6+ hour journey to Garissa from Nairobi, without A/C!

 







The sign we were so happy to see, when our gas tank was so low that we were probably running on fumes for a while.  It was surprising to all of us how much greenery there was in Garissa.

FGM is still a large problem here but there are public campaigns against it.

 Christine's house that she shares with two other local doctors.  She is leaving soon to be posted in another "hardship area" (i feel like hardship is an understatement).

Our local cabbie's car (Christine in the passenger seat).  I loved his air fresheners - one of them a U.S flag, and the other said "scent of eden"...it just seemed too ironic.

 Our lovely badges that we need to get in and around the U.N. compound.  The security here is really strict, thankfully!

 When I got settled in my room at the UN compound in Dadaab, I noticed a few choice items on the night table: a dirty scalpel, a vial of lidocaine, and a vial of ketamine...  good times!

the infamous 8-passenger truck...

mmmmmmmm.....goat stew and chapati!

from Garissa to Dadaab

Yesterday I indulged in some local cuisine at the "local 5-star," at the Almond Hotel.  Marika and I had goat stew, which had a fantastic flavor and was served with lots of veggies, but the meat itself was incredibly tough.  Josh had the camel stew which he said was the same...and he eventually gave up trying to chew it and just swallowed the chunks whole!  I really wish I could post some photos here, but the internet is such a slow connection (and apparently cuts out from 6pm-9pm when the local somalis essentially hijack the electricity) that it won't let me upload anything right now.

Through some miracle we made it to Dadaab today.  In typical fashion, there were 3 people riding up front (in a smaller sized 4-door Toyota pickup), including one of the provincial health officers and his accountant, and 5 of us in the back seat (myself, marika, erin, josh, and christine)...and yes, it was excuciatingly hot and cramped and we all had various paresthesias by the time the ride was over.  The road out of Garissa was paved and had surprisingly few potholes (compared to the road to Garissa from Nairobi), but about 1/3 of the way to Dadaab the roads turn to sand...so you can imagine, with 5 people in the backseat...

Around 10am we pulled in to the United Nations compound, where we'll be staying for the next week (we would have like to stay longer but it's far more expensive than we predicted and there's no bank in Dadaab to get more cash).  I feel a bit guilty staying in this "posh" UN compound knowing that we're living near almost 260,000 Somali refugees, I even have my own bathroom and shower bucket, AND an overhead fan!!! We were told it's not safe for us (meaning those of us with lighter skin) to stay outside the compound, as we "would fetch quite a ransom" in this area, so that makes me feel a little better about staying here.  There's people from all different NGOs staying here - like CARE and Doctors w/o Borders.  The nightly expat hangout spots are called Burr Hole and Grease Pit...should be an interesting experience. 

Almost all the women here (and in Garissa) wear the full headscarf and long robes, exposing only their faces, and there is a large group within them who wear the full burqua with only a slit for their eyes.  I can't imagine how hot they must get under their robes.  And the older men have their beards dyed red with henna - Christine says it's to hide their gray hairs!   The people have all been incredibly friendly so far, one woman told us we were the first white people she had ever met.  The men are typical men (i say that with all due respect)...at one of the police roadblocks on the way to Garissa from Nairobi, one officer politely asked our driver if he'd be willing to leave one of us at the roadblock.   There are cows, goats, camels, cats, and gigantic birds (HUGE, like 4 feet tall, they almost look prehistoric), all roaming along the side of the road along with the crowds of people...the cows were nibbling on roadside trash piles, which made us all start to reconsider the meaning of "free-range" meat.

We are going to be working with a relatively new NGO called ADEO (African Development and Emergency Organization - www.adeo.or.ke), a Kenyan NGO, which does a lot of HIV work here.  Tomorrow morning we meet with them to find out the specifics of our schedule here, and where we'll be most effective and least in-the-way.   The 3 refugee "camps" in Dadaab are called Ifo, Hagadera, and Dagahale, and have be around for more than 10 years...which makes one wonder why they're still called refugee camps and not Kenyan cities.  Although last summer was one of the largest peaks with nearly 300,000 people, and the influx due to both violence and environmental instability (flooding AND droughts).  Apparently the Somalis are very business oriented and are major traders (jeeps, weapons, etc), so within the "camps" you can buy a brand new blackberry with 2-year warranty, and other luxuries that you'd never expect to find at the ends of the earth.

We've met some interesting characters that we're hoping to interview for our video project, one guy in particular who has bouncing from one humanitarian mission to the next over the last 30 years, Pakistan, Afghanistan, all over Central Asia...he said he came to work in Dadaab as a vacation from all the other places!  Although he did say that if he had to choose, he'd live in Kabul permanently...he said the people there are the nicest.

In any case, it's nearly  5pm and 96 degrees and we're all starting to adjust to the heat and embrace the stickiness of it all, but are all amazed at how much water we drink without ever having to go to the bathroom.  It's pretty exciting to finally be here, our hard work of coordinating things over the last year is finally happening!  Working in this environment is something i've dreamed of doing for as long as i can remember, so i'm really enjoying every sticky dehydrated moment and am thankful to have this amazing opportunity and meet such dedicated people.

garissa day 1

Hotttttttttttttttt

We all heard it would be hot in Garissa (north-eastern Kenya), and it's true, we all feel like our skin is melting, and that the constant coating of sweat and dust seems to be a magnet for the amazingly diverse insect population. But hey, we chose to come here and we'll get used to all that.

By the way, I'm writing this from Erin's blackberry which got amazing reception along the 6 hour drive from Nairobi to here...technology is pretty amazing. My friend Christine who we're staying with, graduated from the Univ of Nairobi med school last year and chose to be posted in Garissa for the past year, which shocked her friends and family since it's a pretty harsh place, but she says amazing things like "if it wasn't me to go there, who else??". She just got a new job starting in a couple weeks where she'll be the MOH (minister of health), overseeing all public health projects in a large area, including one of the biggest refugee camps in Dadaab (called Hagadera), where she's taking us tomorrow (to stay and work for about 10 days)!

Our trip here from nairobi was classic, which means that there is no air conditioning and you get at least one flat tire, and to really top it off, we decided not to refill the half-empty gas tank when we came across a petrol station because a man on a donkey cart selling sodas told us we only had 120km to go. As we watched the gas gauge continue to drop with nothing in sight other than stray packs of camels and occasional mud-hut villages we got a bit worried. Erin has been catching up on that old show Alias lately, so she was planning what martial arts moves she might have to try out if we ran out of gas, and I was worried that josh wouldn't be much help since he was nearly passed out from the heat. Anyways, we made the last 30km by cruising on neutral, passers by that we stopped to ask told us garissa was 170km, 80km, 120km, 8km, and 10km (in that order)...needless to say we were pretty ecstatic when we saw a big sprawling town come in to view!

Lesson of the day, when driving on a road in Kenya or elsewhere, and it's getting to be late-afternoon or early-evening, and this road is known to be unsafe at night, fill up the gas tank whenever an opportunity presents itself.

I'll post pictures as soon as I have access to internet on my computer!

Happy birthday nara and karli!