Global Hand-Washing Day

Celebrated every 15th of October this day is one set aside to teach kids, and adults alike the importance of proper hand washing for hygiene as well as a highly effective means of preventing multiple disease from simple colds to typhoid and pneumonia which kill thousands every year.


This year we decided that as a way to celebrate we would not only teach the kids how and why to wash their hands but also to have them simultaneously wash their hands to demonstrate what they learned. It was a great idea, unfortunately we weren’t prepared for the number of kids that showed up.

We held the meeting at the local primary school and five other schools showed up upon last minute invitation. Of course it was amazing to have 2,400ish kids chanting and attentively listening (and of course gawking at the gangly white human in front of them) unfortunately we had not prepared for nearly that many and only had a couple dozen buckets and basins.

To give you an idea as to how many kids were there:

Building a Tippy Tap:

Having the kids demostrate washing their hands (P.S that is Esther my awesome counterpart!):

Showing all the clean hands:

Locked In the Closet

My utility closet has one specific flaw in its working as a house; the outer gate/door to the building as a whole, locks (with a dead-bolt) from the outside.

I never figured that this would pose a significant problem until the group of contractors that were went to work on my new house arrived. A couple days after they came I had been sitting in my house after making dinner relaxing and I had to use the restroom which is located outside of course. To my shock and horror I tried to use the outer doors and they would not budge.

Slowly I realized that I was trapped and as far as I could tell no one could yet hear my pleas for release. I tried calling a couple of Kenyan friends and of course it is the one time they did not answer the phone. As the hours passed, the bucket I usually use for purifying my water was beginning to look very appealing as a pee bucket. This, of course, I still begrudged to do out of shear stubbornness, not wanting to adhere to fellow PCV’s argument that this is an ok and necessary thing to do. Jenn.

Thankfully, three hours later, I was rescued by a passing patient, who saved my life, my bladder, and my pride.

The Kiss

I think I gained a woman problem.


From all the stories that we heard during PST, and all the tips that they gave us to avoid awkward opposite-sex interactions, I swore that I would do everything in my power to make myself undesirable and make it obvious that I was unattainable.

Apparently, I failed.

Now, I have been very careful to never go to any particular mama too often to buy produce, as well as to never always buy the same particular item from the same mama. This mama has been no exception, however I did like going to her stand because her produce was always of quality and she has, from the beginning, always given me a fair, non-mzungu, price.

Then yesterday happened.

As I finished purchasing a couple items, I, as with any Kenyan, was leaving with a farewell handshake. Now it’s rare, but not unusual, for a mama to give what I call the “Double Bro-hug”, keeping the hand-shaking hands in between and proceeding to sort of chest-bump/hug. This is what she proceeded to go for but as I was turning to leave I suddenly feel a kiss on my neck.

My heart-drops and I hurry away without looking back as fast as possible.

On taking counsel with my counter-part, my worst fears were confirmed; this is definitely not normal for a strictly plutonic relationship, even amoung most family units. Ugh. So now I have to put shields up to maximum, phasers set to kill, and utilize every avoidance procedure I know.

If I Look Back Then I Am Lost

I really love hiking and exploring and it is so beautiful up here in the foothills of the Rift Valley that I do it quite a lot. Walking around forces you to meet and greet people along the way, not to mention that it absolutely helps me to clear my head.

I was reading a story about a guy who does a lot of backpacking and other exploring type trips and in it he says something that caught my attention; “When your exploring you are never really lost as long as you keep going, it is only when you look back that you become lost.”

Most days things are great. I feel “in the groove” so to speak. Yet every now and then I start to long for home and dwell on certain things I miss too much and get myself into a funk. This happened to me the other day. I looked back.

The area surrounding Ngorika reminds me remarkably of Oregon, which made me realize I am going to miss our family’s annual Polar Bear Jump on the 1st of the year, which, well you get the picture.

I’m not saying that I shouldn’t remember good times, or try to forget people or things in the past. Simply that now I need to remain forsighted, on what’s to come and the people that are here in my life now.

It is only when I look back that I get lost.

The Burden Be...

Love is hard.

Often it leads you to places you never expected and to do work that is so rewarding.

It looks like perseverance. A smile when you’re being stared at or attempting a conversation when you know your speech is going to be made light of.

Maybe it’s having your heart broken to see desolation and unlivable conditions, and have them seem viewed as normal by others, all while using everything in your power to keep it together.

It’s being bored out of your mind but sitting through the four hour church service you were invited to anyway.

Sometimes it is going to dinner and spending time with people who opened their home to you when you have a migraine and want nothing more than to lie down and sleep.

It is feeling lonely and missing out on the lives of those you love, maybe even not getting to say that permanent goodbye.

It is sacrifice. But the work that I do and the words I speak to convince a crowd, if they don’t have love, I leave a void attempt to do good and a bitter taste with every word I say.

If I don’t have love I waste my breath.