Today marks the end of my first week in Kenya. It has only been in the last couple of day that I’ve begun to feel settled here. The first half of the week was quite challenge coming to terms with being so far from everything and everyone. A very brief conversation with James represents the only familiar face I have seen and am likely to see for some time. Coming to terms with this was not an easy task and with the only thing on my calendar to distinguish one day from the next being an uncertain date of departure things were tough.
Most of my experience of Kenya so far have consisted of the rural village of Mang’u. It is a smallish village with a couple of primary schools, a high school, many churches, shops, a polytechnic (teaching IT, welding, carpentry, hairdressing, motor mechanics and dressmaking) and very few houses in the village. Most people live in farming areas which are accessed by a network of dirt roads all of which look identical to me. The buildings in the village mainly consist of metal boxes around half the size of a shipping container in which the owner sits and sells goods from behind a metal grate.
The road between Mang'u and Familia Moja
The farm of James Muiru, Wambui’s farther, at which I’m staying is a walk of 20 minutes from the village or you can get a ride on the back of a motorbike for 30 Kenyan Shillings (around 50 cents Australian). The farm lands that cover this area are full of produce with no open spaces or grassy paddocks. Most grow coffee, bananas or maize. The Muiru’s farm chickens for eggs and have some land for coffee with also some maize, bananas, tomatoes, etc for their own use.
The bathroom: On the left is a small bunted area for washing (done with a bucket of water). The right is a toilet (in short a flushable hole in the ground). This toilet is used at night. There are outside toilets which are a triangle hole in a conrete floor.
The front of Familia Mojo.
The orphanage of Familia Mojo is on the main road about have way between the village and the farm. It houses 27 children from two and a half to 15 years old along with three staff who live with the children.
I have spent sometime at the orphanage but during the day while the children are at school there is very little for me to do. The staff spend the day washing clothes and bedding and preparing for the children’s next meal. All three of them have families of their own but due to high unemployment in Kenya are forced to live away from their families to work. When I ask them if they miss their children, of course they all say yes but they can not afford to travel to see them.
Kenyans have big families with the Muiru’s consisting of 13 children. All are of working age and live away bar Wumbui, her sister Salome and brother Njoroge who live at the farm. There are also two school age girls, the daughters of one of Wambui’s sisters who died, that live here along with Stellah, the home help (who is very nice to me).
In another building separate from the house live another family of around three or four people. They are employed to maintain the farm.
I have traveled a few times to Thika, the nearest major town to Mang’u. It’s hard to gauge the size of Thika as I’m not so keen to leave the centre of town. It has a few 10+ story buildings and I get the feeling it spreads out far beyond what I’ve explored. Travel to and from Thika is via a matatu. These are pretty much Toyota vans converted into minibuses most of which are old and rundown. They consist of a driver who doesn’t leave his seat and another man who signals to the driver where to stop and let people off or pick people up. It also appears this mans job is to squeeze as many people into the van as possible and it’s not uncommon to be to be sharing your seat with three others making getting off very awkward, especially if your in the back.
