I
am living with a host family. They are beyond amazing. Some of the cultural
differences are odd, and some are hilarious, but I love them nonetheless. For
example: when the family eats, whenever someone is finished, they are required to
leave the table. It isn’t really an option. I don’t eat as much as my family
does, so I am always done first, and they kick me out! They won’t let me stay
and enjoy their company. They raise their eyebrows at me and say, “Kelly, you
may leave.” When I protest, they simply say, “go”. Haha at first, I was taken
aback, but it is normal I suppose.
It
is also a family tradition to sit on the couch and pick teeth with a toothpick.
They sit in complete silence picking their teeth and occasionally spitting out
things they have picked loose. So funny!
I
went to Kisumu by matatu (a mini-van type vehicle) on Friday. I have been
watching the names of matatu’s for a while now—I am trying to figure out which
ones are the best to ride. It is a tough decision… There is the “hot passion”,
the “ghetto forever”, and the “passion for fashion”… It was a rough choice, so
I just chose the “respect” matatu. Haha let me tell you exactly what the
Respect was like. We got on the matatu in Kakamega and about 11 others got on
with us, making it a total of 14 in our mini-van type vehicle. We began our
journey, and my chair was broken/detached at the left side, so every bump we
went over, the chair tipped and I almost fell off my seat. I got quickly
distracted from this, when I felt something pulling my hair—I assumed that it
had caught on the seat, but when I turned around, I found a person stroking it.
And I don’t mean they touched it and then stopped—I mean, they repeatedly
started at the top of my forehead and petted my noggin all the way down to the
back of my neck. I turned around and smiled, and the lady said, “Your hair is
good”. I said “asante” (thank you) and turned back around while trying not to
laugh.
The
matatu was getting pretty warm inside—I was a bit worried about getting
car-sick, but never fear, we stopped again to pick up more people. A larger
amount of money is earned when a greater number of people smash into the
matatu, so it makes sense that when we stopped, 11 more people smashed in. This
made a total of 25 people in our matatu (not including the driver). I don’t
know about you, but I’ve never been in a mini-van with 25 people—needless to
say, we were getting a bit comfy with each other. (My chair wasn’t wobbling
anymore though. In fact, nothing was moving very much at all—we were too packed
in to have extra space to move around. Haha, which made me feel…um…safer). I
got a lot of stares for giggling—but realistically, there was no alternative…
the different situations were so funny!
We
stopped to drop off some of the people, and a man carrying 7 live chickens
hopped in. He casually set them on the floor around people’s feet while the
birds squawked and we continued on our journey listening to music and chickens.
We arrived in Kisumu after about an hour and a half. It was an awesome
experience! Haha I wouldn’t trade it for the world.
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