Earning My Life

My entire life things have just been given to me. For twenty-one years I've been on the receiving end of practically every exchange made between another human being and myself. I've been provided with clothes, medicine, an education, a car, and anything else I so wished for at the drop of a dime with little to no resistance. I'm an only child and was raised as such, I labored through a childhood that lacked any real purpose. I had never been instilled with a work-ethic that is essentially a fundamental requirement for one to live a life of value and worth.

The cult of self dominated my entire thought process. I exhibited the classic traits of a psychopath: superficial charm, grandiosity, and self-importance. I had a need for constant stimulation, a penchant for lying, deception, and manipulation, the inability to feel remorse or guilt. In other words, by the time I had reached adulthood a monster had been created. I internally knew something wasn't right, that the pieces didn't quite fit. As I began to mature I was riddled with a sense of guilt; I had done nothing to earn everything I had been given. I remember at nineteen looking into the mirror and being ashamed of the reflection that peered back. At that time I was living in an incredibly nice apartment complex and attending one of the best business schools in the country. The only setback was that it was all completely unwarranted.

Whenever any task became difficult I would generally quit, it became a recurring theme in my life. Sure, there was the occasional moment due to the encouragement of a friend that I may have pushed through, but it was indeed quite rare. I had grown accustom to just skating by, it was all I ever knew. Fast forward to the present time; as I drag myself to the mirror every morning the difference between now and a couple years ago is pretty dramatic. The muscles that rippled through my arms are no longer existent, my shoulders are now narrow and curve inwards. A face that was once filled with color and defined with strong features, is now a lifeless dull gray, marked with a thinness that is correlated with not being well.  I should be mortified with this new man staring back at me, but I am not. Though there are times I may cringe at my new appearance, I am usually content. The feelings of condescension and disdain towards myself are no longer there, and that is because for the first time since being born I am earning my life.

For those of you that have been following my story you are probably aware that I am currently in the midst of a brutal treatment to try and overcome a debilitating illness. The side effects produced from my current treatment tend be just as, if not more devastating than chemotherapy for cancer patients. I spend most of my days now collapsed on my knees with my face hovered over a toilet as the nausea consumes me. My body will involuntarily shake viciously, the jerked movements completely out of my control. People who come across me will inevitably confuse me with a Parkinson's patient, and I dont blame them at this point. To the foreign eye I am trapped in hell, and while they may be correct in their assessment, it isn't the entire story. Though I would never choose to be in shoes that Im currently filling, there is a piece of me that relishes the struggle.

For the first I can ever recall I feel as i am now earning everything. If I somehow find a way to overcome this illness and win, the guilt that consumed my entire life will forever be gone. Quitting is no longer an option in this difficult task because we all know where quitting will lead me now. I simply can not back out of this; there may be a time when I have given everything Ive had and it will be OK to let go, but that time hasn't arisen yet. For the time being, I am fighting with everything I have. The complaining and whining that was a common theme in my life simply isn't there anymore. When I stare back at that new reflection in the mirror I simply nod at it, signifying a confirmation to myself that I must fight through the day, I must fight for my existence.

When you are faced with a life threatening hurdle you have to adapt and transform yourself. We all still have the tools to survive and overcome insurmountable odds even though society tries to inhibit those attributes from ever being accessed. I realized from day one that if I did not dig deep into myself and find the traits that were essential to humans thriving in this world than I would never make it through this hell. If I were to let all the fears that come along with this situation devour me, I would not have lasted as long as I have so far. Don't get me wrong, there are times where I will find the unknown of my predicament debilitating me as much as the disease itself; but once I catch myself letting the mental aspect destroy me I will stop those thoughts and move on.

I am aware that all the suppressed feelings and anger will eventually catch up with me. If I am one of the lucky ones that is able to beat this, the world will not suddenly become rainbows and lollipops once this struggle is over. I will at some point have to acknowledge and deal with the ugly traumatic distress that comes with this battle, but I can't do it now. For the time being I have to ignore the fact that this isn't something a young man should have to endure, For the time being I need to come to terms that this is my life for now and I can't change that. The fulfilling entity in this process is that if Im able to win this war, than any issue that may arise in my future will be much easier to manage. Every day that I am given after this will have been earned, and that satisfaction would've only been obtained by going through something similar to this. As I've stated previously, as difficult as this whole ordeal has been, I am at least able to take the pleasure in knowing that for the first time ever, I have Earned My Life.

The Fight Continues

These past two months have tested my will and strength more than I ever could've imagined. When I originally received my diagnosis, people within the Lyme community made sure to continually remind me of the fact that being diagnosed properly was only half the battle. As I sit here and type my thoughts out, that statement rings more clearly and louder than it ever had before. The Ape that I felt I had been lugging on my back throughout the day had suddenly morphed into an over-sized Gorilla the moment I began treatment.

Lyme recovery differs from that of other diseases. You do not progressively get better with each day, instead recovering from Lyme at its core is similar to running a marathon with peaks and valleys along the way, not a straight 100 meter sprint. In these past two months I have not only experienced every physical condition deemed possible to man, but Ive been taken through a roller coaster of every emotion that could possibly exist. Euphoria, Depression, Resentment, Pride, Sorrow, can all be explored internally within the span of a day.

My doctor had told me that my treatment would last anywhere from six months to an entire year to achieve full remission from this wretched disease. She did not mince words when she explained it would be a difficult journey and that during this time I needed to just, "Hold On!" When I began treatment I fell into a dark place. Reading one horror story after another of a patient afflicted with Lyme only left me more distressed, especially since admissions of success within treatment were rarely found. The thought of death had cast over me like a shadow that I could not escape. No matter how hard I tried to run from it, I couldn't shake it. It literally drove me mad, progressing to the point where it caused more agony than the disease itself.

Eventually I was able to come to terms with my situation, and I am now in a much better place mentally. Lyme is a disease that can possibly take your life, but more often will just rob you of everything that is special and unique to yourself. Within the Lyme community you witness people cast out by conventional medicine and left to rot away. They desperately try to cling onto any quality of life they can still claim as theirs, but to some, the burden becomes just too much and they eventually let go.

I do not fear death in itself, but I do fear a life of agony and pain. The thought of dying wasn't what left me sleepless, it was the thought of not dying. What would become of me if this disease stole everything, and left me to be nothing but an empty vessel counting his days down until his eventual demise? At last I acknowledged the fact that there was a line drawn. A line that was representative of the point where I would accept my loss to this disease. There was no need to be a beaten boxer trudging along through rounds in a fight he couldn't win, only to be drubbed even more. This may seem dark to you, but Im sure any Lyme patient can attest to the fact that calling it quits at a certain point is a normal, rational thought among us.

When I became comfortable with the fact that not every Lyme patient recovers and there indeed is a time when it's OK to bow out, I was much more at ease. There was no longer anything to fear, I quickly learned that fear had become my most aggressive agitator throughtout this process. When I began to harness that fear and use it as strength towards fighting I began to handle my situation better than ever before. I woke up with the mission to make the most of each and every day. Whether that was reading, learning a foreign language, talking with friends, or relishing and embracing the pain and fighting through it I became content.

The road to recovery is still not without its difficulties though. There are some days where I feel well enough to leave the house for the day and do something, while there are others where I'm back to being bedridden. In a months time I become ecstatic over the fact I was able to put 10 lbs. on, only to lose all that weight a week later. My doctor has said that from my bloodwork I am someone whose body is responding to treatment (Thank God!) She did admit that I have yet to turn the corner in my battle and I still have to fight my way towards beating this thing. I am aware that every day I am straddling between the line that has been drawn for myself, and the light at the end of the tunnel signifying a full recovery. I am not scared of either destination, but do hope to inch closer to that light as each day passes.

(RIP David Byrne 1991-2012)                                

Before I end this post, I have one last thing to touch upon  I have no problem with people reading this,  but I use this blog now as a way to get my thoughts and feelings out and into somewhere. A couple weeks ago myself and many others lost a close friend. Being faced with my own mortality has been tough enough, but seeing a friend go at such a young age is even tougher. The grieving process is hard and takes time. What has been difficult is I have had to witness losing two friends in just the time I've been sick.

The amazing thing about that though is those two people, Michael Graziano and David Byrne share so much in common. I had the pleasure of meeting Michael while I worked in South Africa, and I was taken in by David as a friend when I was nothing more than an awkward high school kid. I can say that both of them were similar, and thats a compliment to each of them. David and Michael both had everything going for them, and also had insurmountable odds to face. When each confided in me the mountains they had to climb to reach the point they were at I was astonished. For them to have suffered through so much and still have a personality that shone through so brightly amongst all the hardships they had incurred was truly amazing.

(RIP Michael Graziano 1988-2012)

It wasn't losing a friend that broke me down into tears, it was the fact that David and Michael were both  guys you found yourself rooting for. There was nothing to dislike about either of these two, and you couldn't help but cheer them on as they made their way through life's obstacles. In a juvenile sense, watching the two of them leave this earth too soon is like watching your favorite team lose. To steal a quote from Charlie Sheen, David and Michael deserved to win! They were too talented, and too good of human beings not to come out on top. Having to see them go is hard, but I can honestly say when it is my time to go, I will leave this earth knowing I had lived a richer life by meeting David Byrne and Michael Graziano. I looked up to the both of you, and Im sure I wasn't the only one.

I plan on writing a post every couple months as I navigate my way through treatment. I have to say the past eight months has been the most humbling experience in my life. I truly do have a different perspective and outlook upon life, I honestly feel things that I never did before. I'd be lying if I said I am happy that I got Lyme, Id be much happier if I was never afflicted with this roller coaster ride. But I'd also be lying if I said this hasn't made me a better person. If I've learned anything from this experience, you have to take your victories wherever you can.

Beginning Treatment

Hey didn't really feel like writing a post this time around. I did want to come out and further explain what I'm up against so I made a video doing just that. Its good for me at least get it off my chest a bit, probably will be my last post until I beat this thing or it beats me. Lets hope it's not the latter!

Prisoner of Myself (My Battle with Lyme Disease)

           Bear with me here, due to my condition it makes it a bit more difficult for me to formulate a string of coherent thoughts together as my mental clarity isn’t what it used to be. So yes, my writing ability may not be up to par.

            I never anticipated that my next blog post would be dissecting my struggles with a potentially life-threatening illness, but life can be unpredictable I guess. My last blog post was written a few days before I was departing for Melbourne, Australia. I had just returned from Nairobi, Kenya in which I had an amazing time and met some amazing people as well. I was preparing to continue my studies in Australia and even had some intentions of staying there permanently if some pieces fell in place.

            When I arrived in Melbourne the beauty of the city astonished me. It was comparable to New York in architecture, but that’s about where the similarities end. The streets were clean as could be with not a single piece of trash on the ground, and I never once saw a police officer patrolling the area as there was virtually no crime to be seen. It only took me a day to come to the realization that I was going to love it here. I forgot to also mention that minimum wage was something in the neighborhood of $18/hour!

            My housemates were great, they all were from different countries and each one was extremely entertaining. Things could not have been going better, but before I could even snap a finger my life had begun to spiral out of control. I had not been feeling terrific health wise before I had left for Australia, and within a week of arriving at my new home my body had begun deteriorating. I forced a smile on my face and tried to ignore the ill feelings, still trying to go out and have a beer. But it became too difficult; I couldn’t continue to overlook the signals my body was basically shouting at me.  I just didn’t feel right, I was always tired, I felt uncomfortable and had started rapidly losing weight. When I left my home in Arizona I wasn’t sure when I'd be coming back, and three weeks after leaving I was right back home.

            Upon returning to Arizona I had every possible medical test done, but everything came back negative. I figured I had just picked up some type of bug while I was in Kenya and would get the proper medication for it and I’d be fine, but the doctors couldn’t discover anything wrong with me. Each doctor told me they knew something was wrong, but they just couldn’t figure out what it was.

            While all this was going on, my condition worsened. I woke up one morning, lugged myself to the mirror and didn’t recognize the reflection! I was used to seeing a well built vibrant man looking back at me, but now I saw a frail, miserable, pale boy. I was 180 lbs. before I left for Kenya, now 4 months later I weighed a paltry 140 lbs. The most disheartening part of this whole thing was that in an attempt to maintain my weight I had been shoveling food into me yet it became apparent that it was useless.

            Doctors continued to make up excuses for my ill health.

           

            “ You’re not eating enough, that’s why you’ve lost this weight.”

            “ You picked up some weird virus in Kenya, it’ll just go away by itself.”

            “ This might be in your head, maybe anti-depressants will take care of the issue.”

            I was horrified! I felt like I had begun the process of slowly dying, and the medical community could do nothing to stop it. The stomach pain I experienced on a daily basis was excruciating, unlike anything I had experienced before. It became so overwhelming at one point that I actually put my head through the wall in an effort to exert the pain. I experienced debilitating fatigue, so bad that it became nearly impossible to walk down the street without becoming completely exhausted. I was a prisoner in my own body, trapped inside myself. The task of even leaving my house had become just too much.

            While all this was going on I kept my composure much better than I would’ve ever imagined through this whole ordeal. I began to accept the fact that this could possibly be it for me, I’ve had my time on this planet and its ticking down now. I understand that thought seems dramatic, but I physically felt as if I were dying and there was nothing anyone could do. I picked my head up and told myself that  I would do everything I possibly could to see if there was a chance I could extend my life.

            I once again began the process of seeing doctor after doctor. This time at the realization of seeing just how badly my body was weakening they tried to give me an accurate diagnosis. EBV, IBS, Chron’s, CFS, all these different diseases they tried to label me as and I knew not one was correct. There was something more to it..

            One doctor had come to the conclusion that my symptoms matched up to that of someone with Colon Cancer and that it had been missed. When you hear the word Cancer used in a sentence not to describe your zodiac sign but to portray and define what your future holds leaves you with an emotion that can’t be described. It’s as if your heart stops pulsating, all control over your limbs are lost, nothing but a glazed over blank stare is shown. It’s the most terrifying sentence that could ever be uttered and I wouldn’t wish it upon anyone.

            I began different types of treatments with the hope of being cured but I was making no progress. In fact the treatments were making me worse. My doctor was ignoring my calls and emails when I tried to explain to him that something wasn’t right. He had told me that I’d get worse before becoming better, but it wasn’t adding up. I just knew the treatments weren’t supposed to be doing this to me!

            I sought out one last doctor to see out of desperation. Maybe my other one wasn’t right, there has to be something more to this I thought.  She was a naturopathic doctor, not covered by insurance but money had lost all value to me at this juncture. When I walked into her office she actually sat down and listened to me explain what was wrong with me. After hearing my diatribe on the medical community her initial reaction was, “ This could possibly be Lyme Disease.”

            I thought back to myself, I had been tested for Lyme already I explained to her. She replied that the test I had taken was less than 50 % accurate and that my symptoms matched up. I still wasn’t buying it, seemed like another inaccurate diagnosis by an incompetent doctor. It was a disease transmitted through being bitten by a tick. Yet I never remembered a tick bite on me. The whole thing sounded nonsensical.

            When I returned home I started researching the illness and was appalled at what I discovered. First off it is a bit difficult to diagnose as it can masks itself as 300 different diseases, but that wasn’t the real reason it often goes misdiagnosed. Corporate interests and profits among insurance companies had led to misconceptions about the disease. Though Lyme is 10 times more prevalent then AIDS and is arguably just as damaging if not caught early, it is rarely tested for due to monetary reasons. This has led to a community of people just like myself that will be misdiagnosed for years until the disease leads to Alzheimer’s, Lou Gehrig’s disease, Parkinson’s, MS or eventually drives them to the grave. I could explain to you how corrupt the system is but it would just take too long, there are plenty of films that go in-depth about how the greed of a few has led to the death and suffering of many.

            When I called the doctor for my test results a week later I did in fact test positive for severe Lyme Disease. She said that it has been in my system for years and for whatever reason it became active just six months ago. Had it been caught earlier I would’ve been fine in a couple weeks time, but I’m way beyond that point now. I have a very tough road ahead of me, the hope is that I still caught it early enough to regain my full health, but it is going to take me months, maybe even years to beat this thing. Once again, this could’ve all been avoided had I been diagnosed earlier with the proper tests. It's a scary time for me to say the least. In six months time I may be fine, or I may have begun suffering mental disabilities along with losing the ability to walk among other things. Yes, the condition is that serious..

            It’s clear to me though that there needs to be much more awareness about this disease that is preventable on so many levels. Everyone is susceptible to a tick bite, there’s nothing we can do about that. But it’s our healthcare system that ultimately kills those of us suffering with Lyme's, and that’s a damn shame!

Think Different

Steve Jobs came up with a marketing campaign a few years ago that centered around the slogan, "Think Different." The commercials and advertisements instilled the values of not conforming, thinking outside the box and even showed images of our most historical figures to reiterate that message to you. The company preached through its campaign, that by thinking differently you would buy Apple products.

In essence, their marketing campaign completely contradicts everything Apple really wants from their customers. Apple's company goals align right with every other company, and that's "Think the Same."

People in every culture must fulfill a certain role. In China it may be to obey your government, but in the United States it is to consume! Our duty as citizens where we live is to consume as much as we can, the entire world relies on us to do so.

I'll tie this into what my entire point of the post it; our culture wants you to feel shitty about yourself. That may not be their number one priority, but in order for us to consume up to our potential we can never be satisfied with ourselves. Someone who is completely secure with themselves won't feel a need to continually buy things that they don't necessarily need to fill some void in their lives.

Every day we are continually shown images of what we're supposed to look like and what we're supposed to have. If we don't fit that image we are then somehow incomplete. That's OK though, because with all the different products out there that help alter our appearances, we may one day be complete and match the images we're shown in the magazines or the movies. This leads to both girls and guys going to extreme lengths that can even be very unhealthy to obtain an appearance that for most of us is physically impossible. But we're told that if we don't fit that image, well then we're not good enough.

This thought process goes beyond physical appearances as well. We're told that our worth as human beings is measured by the things we own, not the quality of our character. Each product we own helps define who we are. You're even supposed to sum up a person just by the type of car they have (even though in most countries only 5-10% of the population even own a vehicle). Social class used to be defined by whether you could put 3 meals on the table for your family, now it's defined by the different brand names we own. Once again, the advertisements center around the thought that if we don't own the products that the people in the images are seen having then we once again are somehow incomplete. This in turn causes some Americans to work relentlessly, never truly taking time to enjoy their lives, in an endless cycle to obtain things that they don't even need.

There will be some people that read this and will conclude that I'm weird and ridiculous for even writing this, because well, this is different. But I want people to be aware of what their culture is doing to them. There's a reason that although we may be one of the very top countries financially; psychology studies have often found us to be in the middle of the pack or bottom when it comes to measuring happiness. Americans I believe are by far the most insecure people in the world. That doesn't mean that everyone is, but a majority of us will constantly find flaws in ourselves and are uncomfortable in our own skin.

I'm asking everyone to just think a bit differently. And when I say that I don't mean go paint your fingernails black, get a mohawk, or even turn into a complete hipster on us. What I'm saying is recognize that everyone really does have a unique skill or attribute to offer. Stop being so concerned with what you lack, and recognize what you're good at. Stop being so caught up and concerned with what others may think. If there is something you truly want to do, but you may be afraid of how others could perceive you, say "Fuck It!" Do what makes you happy, not the people around you.

I'm nowhere near being exempt from everything I've talked about, but the more you're aware of what is trying to control you the better off you are. A lot of us feel as if we're immortal, but we're all alike because we all will die at some point, and life really is pretty short. None of us have the time to be caught up in materialistic things. We should wake up everyday and do what we want to, not what society tells us we want to!

Goodbye Kenya

After 30 hours of flying (including layovers), I've finally made it back to the states. I already miss Kenya, but its bitter sweet as I'm leaving for Australia in just a weeks time. My last week in the country was still eventful to say the least. I took over the Enrich Kibera program, and helped run the tours which was great. On Thursday we had over 10 people sign up for the tour, which is much more than usual so it was a bit hectic to say the least. We were walking through the largest garbage slum in Africa with a small army of white people carrying bags of flour and beans, so we stood out quite a bit.

During the week I made sure to keep tabs on the families we worked with and made sure everything was going ok. One of the men we provide food for is 72 now and was told he will need surgery to repair his arms and knees as he can no longer walk. He explained to us that he is afraid to get surgery even though we'll cover the costs for fear of his own death on the operating table. I relayed this to the doctor, and we agreed that we will have to send him to counseling to help him overcome his fears as this surgery is necessary for him. I really enjoyed my time with the program, the Kenyans we worked with are great and truly only want to help their neighbors.

I must say that for most of this blog I've talked about trying to help people as much as possible. I really do believe that it has come off a bit conceited, and even obnoxious of me. Yes, we helped provide some of them with material things and even gave food to families that otherwise wouldn't have it. But did we really improve their quality of life that much, or even a little? Yes, these people have very little, their homes are mud shacks with nothing more than maybe a bed and a couch inside. But, never once did I get a sense that these people were even remotely upset with the quality of their lives. Generally, the people I worked with and even the other Kenyans I spent time with were all pretty happy. One of the men we provide food for Peter is 85 years old and wears the same pair of clothes every day, yet every time I walk in to see him, he always greets us with a big smile and firm handshake. I'd even go as far to say that most of them are probably a lot more satisfied with their lives then a lot of my American friends. It really does reiterate the fact that material possessions will not being you happiness, or fill that empty void in your life.

This doesn't go to say that the Kenyans are oblivious to their countries situation. I've had quite a few very serious and heartfelt discussions with some of the Kenyans I've worked with while here. It hurts to hear the pain in their voice as they describe how corrupt their government is and their standard of living should be so much better. They're fully aware that the money they pay for taxes goes straight to the politicians pockets, and there just isn't much that can be done about it. I see the irritation and anger in their face, they feel helpless. But, they are able to recognize it and still go on about their lives and enjoy them to the fullest.

I really will miss the the country and hope to return someday. The other volunteers were great as well as the Kenyans I worked with. I developed a close friendship with the woman (she hates being called that) that helps run the volunteer hostel, and will miss her a lot as well. To everyone that has been keeping up with this blog I really appreciate it, and I hope I helped provide some insight for the volunteers that plan on coming to Kenya in the future. I'll still be updating this while I'm in Australia, but it may not be as interesting, as their lifestyle is pretty similar to America. I will miss everyone in Kenya, I wish them the best, and hopefully we will meet again!

Saving Grace

I met Grace about two weeks ago. If life were a game of poker, Grace would've most likely been dealt the worse possible hand. At the age of six, she ended up at the doorstep of the Madison Orphanage. Her grandmother had passed away, and and her mother had been declared mentally insane. The orphanage took in a girl that was in a horrific condition for someone so young. Starving nearly most of her life, she was suffering from malnutrition. Her body was lacking the necessary nutrients to survive, and she was void of many basic life skills. Grace was afraid to interact with anyone; she was painfully shy and shut herself off from the rest of the orphanage completely.

I visited the Madison home after our program director Joe had told me he started an orphanage years back in a rural area outside the city. He seemed really passionate when describing all the things they had done with the place, so I felt like it'd be cool to see. Joe picked me up on a Saturday morning and we ventured out of the city into beautiful landscape filled with hills and trees that towered over ten stories high. Nestled among those trees and hills was the Madison Orphanage. I understood now why Joe was so zealous when describing what he had built. The place housed over forty orphans, but these weren't the oppressed, helpless orphans that one may envision. They were a community, all reliant upon one another. Not only were there children staying in this orphanage, but also chicken and cows called this place home! The entire place was self-sustaining, they rarely had to ever pay for food.

I was thoroughly impressed, though the kids did make sure to keep their distance from me. It was obvious they weren't used to white people being around, and they weren't quite sure why I was there. I introduced myself to them anyways, and that was when I was introduced to Grace. I asked Grace her age, and she told me that she was only six years old. Someone behind me corrected her and shouted that she wasn't being truthful with me. When I turned back to Grace to ask for her real age, she looked at me with a smirk and refused to speak further (She is now actually eight years old). Her smile could light up the entire place, and even though she was much smaller then everyone else, it seemed as if all the other children followed her lead. I was shocked when I heard the conditions she arrived in two years ago, this couldn't possibly be the same child.

I had wanted to sponsor a child while I was out here, but all the organizations had histories of being corrupt so you could never quite be sure where your money was going. I realized if I were going to sponsor a kid I would have to do all of the work. Children can go to public school in Kenya, but they won't receive anything resembling an actual education. For a child to have any shot at living a comfortable life when they're older, it is apparent that they attend a private boarding school. However, none of these kids could afford such a necessity.

I told Joe that I wanted to look into maybe sponsoring her and getting her into a good boarding school. He was excited to hear that I wanted to help, but I feared that I may be getting his hopes up as it was a big commitment that I wasn't sure I was ready to make. A few days later I went with a few other volunteers to visit one of the suggested boarding schools. The receptionist talked to us about the school and it seemed like a sanctuary for these children. They all ran around with smiles that stretched from ear to ear, and the school had a great academic reputation. We were told that children can be brought in to be interviewed and tested on to see how well they're doing to the schools standards. I thought back to Grace, and was curious on how she would do in that situation. We arranged for Grace to be picked up and brought for an interview the next day.

When we arrived at the Orphanage to pick her up, it was obvious she was confused. I'm sure she was wondering why this white man was back here, and what could they possibly want from me. Once we arrived at the school she was reunited with a girl who used to live at the orphanage with her and she became more comfortable. After her exams, the head teacher relayed her scores to me. My intuitive belief that she was very intelligent wasn't unfounded. She scored very well on her math portion for a girl who up to this point had not been taught much. I looked over her exams as the teachers explained to me that she was very bright, and obviously at the top of her class for a child coming from the public education system in Kenya. We all know that she needs a proper education, English is only taught at private institutions even though its extremely hard to get a job here if you have no comprehension of the language.

I feel compelled to help out, and want to sponsor her. However, finances have become a bit tight for my family and I, so there's a chance it may not be possible. I know there are future volunteers that have been reading this blog, so if you want to sponsor Grace and any of the other children from Madison please contact me or talk to Joe once you arrive in Kenya!

Enrich Kibera

When I first came to Kenya I wondered if I really would last my entire stay here. It was so different from anything I had ever been accustomed to. The transition was definitely difficult, I became sick very easily over here, and felt alienated at times, but a couple weeks into my stay I feel very comfortable and am having a great time. This past week I moved into the volunteer hostel, which is similar to an apartment except it is only a three bedroom place that has over 12 different beds. The weekends can be crazy here, when over 15 people could be staying here at once from all over the world.

I moved here to work in the Enrich Kibera Program. It was started by a volunteer named Thomas over 6 months ago, and has been passed down to different people to run it at various times. Kibera is the largest garbage slum in all of Africa, and trying to describe it over a blog post would be an injustice, as it would hardly capture the scenes someone would see on a daily basis living there. Thomas started a program that was first aimed at providing food for eight families in Kibera, and has progressed to now helping empower these families as well so one day then can support themselves without our assistance.

In the program we give tourists/volunteers a tour of Kibera. We charge each person roughly $20 USD to walk around and experience this small city filled with trash. We then use the money we collect from the tours to help support the families we work with. They are provided with beans and flour to feed them through the week, and we work with them in other aspects of their lives so they can eventually earn an income to support themselves. This includes paying the children's school fees, keeping up with doctors appointments/medications, and getting the adults job training. Thomas even built a sewing school in the area so that some of the ladies could learn sewing as a means of bringing in money for their families. I forgot to mention, Thomas did all this in six months, and he's only 21.

Right now an American named Morgan has been running the program and she does it very well. She's extremely loud, unhinged, and very fun. People may get lost in her very strong personality, but she's very ambitious and has been a blast to live with and work under this week. She will be moving to Mombasa though this weekend because she wants to live near the beach while in Kenya, so it'll be my job to run the program and lead the tours/finances next week. I'm merely a stop gap as I can only do it for one week before I leave and another volunteer returns afterwards to run it long-term. It's a great program, and am glad that I've been able to take part in it.

This past weekend a lot of the volunteers left including Rima who I was living with in my previous placement. A total of 32 new volunteers came in as well though, 27 of which are females which has made things a bit interesting this past week. The new volunteers come from all over whether it's Ireland to Switzerland or Saudi Arabia. They've been great, and this past Wednesday night we even went Karaoke singing in the city, of course I was horrendous. I'm pretty sure the only songs that could fit my voice would be from Barry White.

We've also been working on starting a few projects of our own. Morgan is trying to start up a program that will make books more accessible to kids, and I have talked with our organization director Joe about starting a program up in which volunteers would be recommended to bring kids clothes with them to donate to the children that we do outreaches with (some of these children have been wearing the same outfits for over a week). The most ambitious idea we have came through was by an Australian investment banker named Jane. She wants to start up a micro financing program in Kibera to help lend out money to these people so they can start their own businesses. She has asked me to help with it as I know a bit about finances and economics. We are meeting with some people that live in Kibera this weekend to hopefully put together a blue-print for this idea. I'm hoping to help in any possible way and this was a great idea by Jane and hopefully with time and effort we can implement this into the community.

It's very easy to help out in this country in any capacity because there's a lot to do. The challenge is focusing your energy on just one or two things. It's very easy to get lost in everything going on and trying to “save the world”, only to have your efforts disjointed and meaningless when it's all said and done. Thomas had to make a tough call when he chose to only help support eight families in Kenya, but that's better than zero. I'm hoping to make a small dent while here, as my time is winding down. I've put up some pictures from this past week on my Facebook, and will be sure to upload more soon!

Lions, Leopards, and Maasai

This past weekend I went on my second african safari. I'm really not one for african wildlife outside of watching the Lion King, but our volunteer organization gave us a huge discount to go to one of the world's most famous game parks in the Maasai Mara. I felt obligated to at least give it a chance, so I set off for a 3 day safari with other volunteers. The experience greatly exceeded my expectations. The thing that sets game parks apart from national parks is the animals can come and go as they please, so its a real possibility that you may not see much of anything during your safari. Luckily for me, that wasn't the case. Throughout the weekend I saw elephants roam the fields together in packs, leopards sleeping in trees, and male lions come right up to our van and stare at us with curious eyes.

 

The safari wasn't perfect though. While our kenyan tour guides were very cool and had no problem sharing a beer with us at night, they had a difficult time keeping their vehicles working. The two vans we went in broke down constantly and we had to get out a number of times to help push the van until it started. Then again, we were paying a fifth of the price the other tourists were to go on the same exact safari.

The third day in the Maasai Mara was my favorite. We took the day to visit the Maasai Village, where some of the volunteers work. The Maasai people are similar to what the Native Americans were to us (except Kenya hasn't killed almost all of them off or given them casinos). They are all very dark, tall, and skinny. Their body is wrapped around with a large blanket and nothing more. One of them took me around his village; not surprisingly they have no running water or electricity. Their huts are very small and bring in hardly any light, so its almost pitch black even during the day time. It's amazing that these people have lived the same way for hundreds, maybe even thousands of years. To be considered a man, a Maasai must go out into the wilderness and kill a lion. Kenya has outlawed the killing of lions now so it's illegal, but it still may happen.

Their diet is far from extravagant, they usually eat just potatoes, rice, and on rare occasions will eat the goats they own. If they don't have food, they will generally drink cow's blood. They asked us if we would like to drink some while we were there, and I was one of the few that accepted. I watched as they punctured the cow, and filled up a jug with its blood. I grabbed it and began to chug (you were only supposed to take a sip, not chug.. Woops). It wasn't awful, but I don't think cows blood will become a normal part of my diet. It was crazy seeing people live a life so differently from what we're used to. I really do hope that the Kenyan government continues to leave them alone, and never tries to make them adapt to the way we currently live.

The Wicked and Corrupt

Kenya is a beautiful country, and has a lot of great things to offer. In fact, a lot of volunteers come here and never leave. However, the longer I stay here the more I am reminded that this is in fact a 3rd world country and I have never witnessed corruption plague an entire nation to such a large extent.

This past weekend I was getting onto a bus, when two men shoved me from the front and the back. I pushed back, but when I looked down I realized my camera was no longer in my pocket, I had been pick pocketed for my first time. When I went into work and told my boss the story, he said that it was good that no one caught him at least. I was very confused.. of course I wanted the bastard to be caught, I wanted my camera back!

He explained to me though, that in Kenya if they catch a thief they will burn them alive. Not just the police either, it's considered OK for any group of people to burn a citizen who is labeled a thief. Most thieves actually would rather be caught by the police so they have the opportunity to pay an officer off to place them in jail rather then lynch them. Otherwise, a tire is put around their neck and doused with gasoline before being lit on fire. While my boss was telling me this, I couldn't detect a hint of anger or aggravation being raised in his voice, this in fact was his culture, and he found nothing obscene about it.

My co-workers all agree that corruption will forever keep Kenya from developing into a nation of that on the level of the US or anywhere else in Europe. They told me that if you are wealthy in this country you can basically get away with just about anything. All police officers are corrupt and can be bought off at the right price. The thing that disturbed me though, was that even a lot of charities suffer from corruption as well. I'm very intent on trying to sponsor this girl from a garbage slum and trying to support her education, but my host family explained to me it isn't that easy. A lot of charity organizations will just take your money and never use it to how it was advertised to be spent.

That is very sad to hear. A lot of people donate money with the purpose of trying to make a small difference, but it may never even reach the hands of the person it was intended for.

I witnessed corruption at its finest for my first time today. Another volunteer and I were in a taxi cab headed to the city. While we were driving a police office stationed at the side of the road motioned for us to pull over. When we did he peered into the car, and noticed my friend Rima in the back seat was not wearing a seat belt. He said with a stern voice, "Get out of the car!"
As soon as he said that our taxi driver punched the gas pedal with a vengeance and we sped off away from the cop as fast as the taxi cab could take us. I had no idea what to make of the situation, but the driver told us he was going to ask her for money, and if she refused he would have taken her off to jail. Both of us had no money on hand, so she likely would have been hauled off to jail if our driver didn't speed off!

Money is power in this country, and there isn't much in the way of laws to keep citizens from buying their ways into political power or out of a lynching. And it also hinders individuals with the best intentions from using their funds to its full potential. It's a problem that all of them agree will almost certainly never abate. As my co-worker says, "Hey, this is Africa!"

21st Birthday in Africa

I spent my 21st birthday in Kenya which will be an interesting story for years to come. It turned out that the volunteer I was staying with was also celebrating her birthday just a day after mine, so we decided to have a joint birthday celebration this past Tuesday Night.

We invited out all our co-workers who are a bunch of Kenyans around our age, along with our bosses and the two daughters we stay with as well. The town we work in is nothing but bars or brothels, so we definitely had a wealth of options when it came to selecting a venue to celebrate. Our boss took us up to a bar that was on the 5th floor of a building that looked as if it could tip over and crumble at any point.

The inside of the bar was actually quite nice, and we proceeded to buy 5,000 shillings worth of alcohol (roughly $60 US) for everyone and enjoyed the night. It was a lot of fun, and it was definitely interesting to see that each of our co-workers danced differently according to what tribe they belonged to. Even though homosexuality is outlawed in Kenya, I saw at least ten of my coworkers (who are all men) grinding up on each other.  It's something that you would never see straight men in America do, but Kenyans obviously have a different culture and it was pretty entertaining to watch.

Overall it was a fun 21st, definitely different from what I expected, even though one of our co-workers ended up drinking too much and got beaten half to death after leaving the bar and running his mouth off.

Life during the week in Kenya is pretty simple, and I enjoy it, there aren't constant distractions that I would find back home in the states. My days consist of waking up in the morning to cook breakfast before leaving for work. After work we generally just come home and hang out with the two daughters that live with us, and I will usually read to pass the time if no one is around. I get along well with the two daughters, whose names are Salome and Beautiful. We even convinced Beautiful that my name was "Handsome" for over a week. She's bright though, and eventually caught on that my real name is Zack.

Sadly I can't say that I've been enjoying my work placement that much though. I really like my co-workers, as they are all my age and have grown up in Kenya their whole lives so I never run out of things to talk about when I'm with them. But when it comes to actually working, there just isn't much for me to do. Almost all of the educational outreaches we do are spoken in Swahilli and not English. It's very cool visiting all these different slums, but when we arrive it's as if I'm nothing more then a White mascot who just stands there while everyone stares at me in amazement (some of these people ave never seen a white person up until this point.)

I've decided to switch my placement because of this, which was a difficult decision as I really like the family I stay with, and have learned a lot about Kenya from my co-workers. However, I did come here to preform volunteer work, and I haven't done much of that up to this point. A volunteer who recently left had started up a program in which they provide food to families that live in one of the garbage slums. I decided to join this program and help continue it with another volunteer since the one who started it is no longer here. This means I'll have to leave my host family behind and live in the volunteer hostel, but I'm sure it'll all be worth it. This weekend I'll be leaving for a Safari and look forward to hanging out with some Elephants and Lions!

I can't believe the conditions some of these people live in

My first weekend in Kenya I signed up to do an outreach program with some other volunteers. We were picked up on Friday morning, and taken to an Orphanage to help out. Once again I was amazed by the sheer ambition of some these volunteers. The man running the orphanage was young and had started it on his own just a few years ago. He had plans to fundraise over $1 million US, to build a proper school for the children. It made me feel as if I had done nothing important as of now when comparing myself to some of these extraordinary individuals. The orphanage gave us an idea of how much of a difference one individual can make when one truly sets their minds to something, and has the right intentions.

The next day we woke up early in the morning and started preparing food to bring to different slums in Kenya. We threw pounds of rice and cheese into over a hundred bags to deliver. The first slum we visited was unlike anything I had ever seen before. It was very similar to a refugee camp in which there were lines of tents placed one after another. These people had moved to these tents, after the violence of the elections in 2007 left them misplaced with nowhere to go. Some of them were accomplished businessmen and women who once lived a comfortable lifestyle. Now they were huddled into 6x6 foot tents that felt like a microwave when you walked in. It was depressing to see the conditions these people lived in. While there, we delivered food to many of them and played with kids who were all exuberant and excited to be with us. You could never tell these children were even upset with their living conditions.

I thought that would be the worse slum we would visit, but I was mistaken. The next place we visited was a landfill... except there were people on top of it. I was astounded with what I saw, there was a town placed in the middle of a huge dumpster. The smell was putrid, and my eyes burned with all the pollution built up. The sight was indescribable, there were children playing on heaps of trash. They even told us that the kids would even look in the trash for food to eat. I'm not one to cry, and I never like to show my emotion, but I started to tear up. I'm far from being the most empathetic person out there, but no one should have to live like this. Once again though, the children were more than welcoming, and their faces beamed with some of the largest smiles I'd ever seen. I spent my time playing with them while some others delivered food. There was one young girl who caught my attention. She spoke perfect english, and she seemed very intelligent for someone of her background. Our organization told us that it is possible to sponsor one of those children if we wished. This means that we can choose a child and pay for their schooling. I want to see if I can sponsor this young girl and pay for her education, so she cant get out of the dump she lives in (literally), and get her into a boarding school. Hopefully this works out.

I will be back with more posts soon, I wrote the past two entries very quickly, so they are very rough. I miss everyone back in the states!

Welcome to Kenya

Sorry its taken me so long to post again, its extremely hard to get internet access out here.
This first week in Kenya has been interesting to say the least. When I was headed to the airport, the idea of living in a 3rd world country suddenly became surreal, and I became very anxious and nervous headed to my terminal. Each step became more lethargic and tepid, but as I passed through security my fears began to subside and I became more comfortable.

I spent over 30 hours between layovers and flights before finally arriving in Kenya. Two other volunteers and I were picked up from the airport and taken to a volunteer hostel to spend the night. It was New Years Eve, but we got in too late to celebrate. When I walked into the volunteer hostel I was surprised when I was greeted by a very attractive 22 year old Kenyan woman. She was in charge of the hostel, and I spent my New Years Eve just talking to her about what I should expect for this next month.

The next few days consisted of meeting the other volunteers and going through orientation for our programs. Most of the other volunteers are from Australia, which works in my favor since I'm traveling there once my time in Kenya is finished. It is truly amazing what some of these other volunteers have done.  A volunteer from Iran was on his second trip here, to check up on a feeding program he had started in his first volunteer experience. And another volunteer from Australia had fund raised enough money to build a small school in the town where he works.

Once orientation was finished, I was taken to my home-stay which is where I would live for the next month. I didn't know what to expect, but was shocked when we were brought into a rather nice place. When we walked into the house, we were greeted by the live in maid. She explained to me that my host mom was in the US until Sunday, which I couldn't quite comprehend. After scouring the pictures in the house it became apparent to me that our Host Mom was American. The maid whose name is Selema, told us that our Host Mom whose name is Anena, had volunteered through the same program we did. She fell in love with Kenya so much, that she moved out here soon after her volunteer experience and adopted the two orphans she had stayed with who are now 18 and 19 and staying with us as well.

The other volunteer that is staying with me is an American as well. She has been very easy to get along with, as she seems to be one of the few people intent on talking even more than I do. Our first night in Kenya we were quickly reminded that although we were staying in a nice place, we were still in Africa. Throughout the night I had no encounters with mosquitoes or any other insects, but my American friend was not as lucky. She was constantly being bit by mosquitoes throughout the night, and at 4 AM I heard a loud scream to look over and witness the largest cockroach I had ever seen crawling up her face. She flicked it off herself in a panic, and I quickly smashed it with my Steve Jobs book (Thanks Apple!)

The next day we left our surprisingly nice place and stepped into the slum where we would be working. Everyone's eyes were fixated on us as we walked through the town, and I even heard one man shout, "The british are coming!" At our job, which is HIV/AIDS awareness, it was explained to us that the town we worked in was filled with mostly bars and brothels. A big issue within their community is the sex workers are uneducated when it comes to HIV. It would be our responsibility to educate the community about HIV including the sex workers, making house calls to deliver the results of individuals' HIV test results, and doing community outreaches. I am excited with our position, and can't wait to help coordinate some of the educational outreaches we will do.