Nimeshukuru

I am grateful.

So far this week has been a whirlwind of emotions. From smiles to tears, I never thought I would experience so many powerful things at the age of 19. As I began my last few days in the Children’s Ward, I was so excited to see Dandi, a child admitted with severe malaria, anemia, and pneumonia, being discharged. He was the most lethargic baby I had ever seen, refusing to even open his eyes, and here he was sitting up and clapping his hands. I truly witnessed a miracle. Rounds continued with several more discharges, and I was elated. I returned home to do laundry—another new talent I have developed. I scrubbed, rinsed, and hung my clothes to dry on the line all while some chickens followed me around.

I'm bringing him home with me

After lunch, we made our way to the Andrew Junior Academy for orphaned children, which was a beautiful 15 minute walk through the hills of Migori. From the moment we arrived, the students’ excitement was overwhelming. They crowded the barred windows screaming and waving before storming out of the classrooms to greet us. A fellow volunteer, Jenny, got them to say “I love you!” and sing a Swahili song about how all sins are equal in God’s eyes (very smart children). We then were invited to enjoy some sodas with the preschool teacher and learn more about the school. She informed us that 178 orphans share 2 latrines at the academy and live with their guardians throughout Migori. The 8 teachers are all volunteers that are trained but not yet absorbed by the government due to job shortages. Much of the funding was provided by the school’s headmaster out of his pocket. WOWZA. The children are taught English, math, Swahili, music, social studies, science, and have lots of play time outside. Unfortunately, the school cannot afford to feed all the students, so they return home for meals at noon. I was able to give all of my pencils and remaining toothbrushes (thank you Mommy) to the preschool teacher who would distribute them to the classrooms.

As we walked back outside, the teachers released the students back outside in a stampede and the mania began. I took over 100 pictures of the children as they surrounded us because they were so amused by my camera, though they rarely smiled at the camera directly. I put out my hands for high fives, and the children immediately started touching my skin and grabbing my hands. Who knew my pasty skin would be so interesting? It was so difficult to say goodbye, but I knew the children had to return to class where they could learn even more! The experience as a whole moved me to tears. It was amazing to communicate with the kiddos without speaking words. Their happiness shined bright through the hardship they encountered at home. I felt so grateful, not only for all that I have been given at home with a supportive family and many loving friends, but also to have met these beautiful children. Their strength with continue to inspire me every day.

In opposition, Tuesday was a nightmare. Rounds began normally with many new patients to learn about. As Dr. Otonga and I were assessing a young boy with malaria, another patient’s mother approached us. Dr. Otonga stopped in his tracks and walked over to the 7-month-old baby girl’s bed. He grabbed her by the arm and swiftly walked into the office while all the other patients in the ward gathered at the connecting windows. We watched as he attempted to resuscitate the baby with chest thrusts and hooked her up to oxygen. His techniques were nothing like I had been taught. I stood frozen with terror, my heart in my stomach. I knew immediately that the child was not healthy, but she had shown improvement over the 5 days she had been in the hospital.

Patience, the baby girl, was admitted with severe dehydration and malnutrition and tested positive for HIV. The mother informed us that she had stopped feeding when she got sick. In other words, the woman stopped feeding her child, as her condition worsened. I looked into the baby’s eyes praying, no pleading, that she wouldn’t give up. I heard her mother crying faintly in the background as the life drained from her eyes. There is a very good chance that I was the last person she saw here on Earth. I stood with a blank look on my face until another student walked up and asked what was happening. We walked out of the ward and I immediately started crying hysterically. The head nurse, Awiti, pulled me into her office to hold me and thank me for my compassion for the patients. I was devastated.

As I reflect on the event, it is difficult for me to accept that the hospital officials tried their hardest to save this baby’s life. I understand that there are ups and downs in the world of medicine, but every life deserves the best treatment possible. If we were in the States, this baby would have been in the Intensive Care Unit, monitored 24/7 and hooked up to machines to save her life. It pains me that the doctors here are so accustomed to the death of their patients that they are able to give up the fight. They put on their game faces and continue the day as usual—a strength I have not yet developed. I am comforted by the fact that Patience no longer must live in constant pain and suffering.

Now, I want to know how I can help this from happening to other innocent lives in Migori. So many people have attempted to comfort me by saying, “It happens.” It shouldn’t happen. People cannot die because of the poor communication, lack of proper treatment, or insufficient resources at this hospital. I have been reminded of the delicacy of life and will carry this experience with me for the rest of my life.

We're blood siblings

On a brighter note, even more patients were discharged this morning during rounds. Furthermore, Collins has improved tremendously!! The doctors are still concerned about his red blood cell count and anemia, but he is finally able to act like a normal 11-year-old boy. I could tell by the strength of his high-five today that he was feeling better than ever. He even squeaked out a few smiles when I looked over at him from across the room, as he practiced walking around. His case is just another miracle at St. Joseph’s Mission Hospital. At a place where so much death occurs, it was easy for me to forget the happiness of so many children being cured under such terrible conditions. For this, I am very grateful. 

Kenyan Time

Patience. I am quickly learning that the people of Migori do not operate on a specific schedule. Surgeries begin when Dr. Agullo is ready, the next surgery begins when the previous one ends, and food is served when food is ready. This requires a lot of something I do not have: patience. Not only do I like to follow a daily schedule, but I prefer to do everything efficiently—I even walk quickly. Here in Kenya, people take the time say hello to everyone they know on the street. They could sit around for hours just drinking tea and chatting with friends. They appreciate the moments spent with one another rather than focusing on what is next on the agenda. This has been a difficult adjustment for us Medics to Africa volunteers, because when we ask a Kenyan how long it might take to get somewhere or what time something will happen, the answer is often inaccurate. In fact, I usually double the answer, and that still might not be the correct time. This does work to my advantage at times, however, as the morning meeting frequently starts 15 minutes after 8:00.

            Another exciting part of Kenya that I am adjusting to is the frequent loss of power. Almost everyday the thunderstorms begin and the power goes out. Judy, the housekeeper, then lights candles and the other girls and I sit in the candlelight talking about whatever comes to mind—anything from weddings to amputations. Luckily, the hospital has a back up generator. Recently, the program director has provided us with sparkling red wine (interesting), beer, and gin as I am the youngest one here. He then proceeds to ask why we aren’t finishing the drinks each night though we don’t often feel like drinking after our long days. In fact, I’m usually feeling sleepy as soon as the sun sets though I force myself to stay awake until 10 so I don’t miss out on any interesting conversations.

            Wednesday morning began abnormally when I woke to an unusual power outage. Just when I thought I would have to go without my morning toast, Helen, the chef, whipped me up some toast on the stove before I could even ask. Rounds in the Children’s Ward began after the usual morning meeting. Much to my surprise, most of the patients who seemed so sickly the day before, had improved tremendously. It was incredible to see the sick kids I once knew walking around the ward and being discharged! However, as we approached Collins, an 11-year-old with pyomyositis causing abscesses in his legs, his condition seemed to be worsening. Each day I had watched the doctors changed Collins’ dressing as his abscesses oozed with puss and he writhed in pain. Today, Dr. Otonga said the infection had spread from his wounds causing fever, edema in his feet, and his breathing to become intermittent. I was told that Collins needed a blood transfusion of O negative blood. After a bit of discussion between the doctors, it was noted that Collins actually needed O positive blood- my blood type. I was told that earlier in the year, someone pretended to be a hospital worker and stole the hospitals funds for blood donors leaving the hospital with no blood for the patients. They desperately had to find someone to donate blood for Collins before his organs started shutting down.

I told the PA student I was with that I had O positive blood but my mom would kill me if I donated in Kenya. Not only would I be exposing myself to disease in a hospital swimming with HIV positive patients, but I’m just not a very good blood donor. I don’t drink enough water so my blood comes out very slow, my veins are difficult to find, and I am known to faint. I absolutely despise getting shots because they hurt! So as I sat eating my lunch to mull over the idea, I weighed these pros and cons. I then remembered my answer to those who asked why I was going to Kenya; I quickly reply, “to save lives.” Though I pretend to be a real doctor sometimes, I cannot actually perform life-saving surgery, as I said in my previous blog. However, I had been presented with the opportunity to actually save the life of a little boy I had seen every day in immense pain. Thinking of it this way, I had to donate blood, no matter how bad it would hurt.

I quickly marched down to the hospital before I could change my mind to find Dr. Otonga at the gates. He told me that Collins had not yet received a transfusion, so I headed to the lab to get screened. I sat down and a man had me fill out the donor questionnaire, which asked questions like “Have you ever done cocaine? No. Are you pregnant? No. Have you ever been sexually abused or exploited? No.” Before he poked me I waved for a little boy to come over and hold my hand as the evil doctor drew my blood. The boy seemed very confused when I didn’t let go of his hand immediately, but started laughing when I made painful faces. I told you guys, needles hurt!! It would take an hour for my blood to be tested and deemed acceptable for donation. This hour seemed to take a lifetime as I went to visit Collins in his worsening condition. Dr. Josiah, who always greets me with a hug and a smile, informed me that Collins liver and spleen were inflamed, which I could feel by pressing on his abdomen. I knew I had made the right choice.

I returned to the lab and Norah, yet another amazingly nice Kenyan, took me to a curtained area where I would give blood. I jumped onto the bed, removed my shoes, and laid down for what I thought would be an excruciating hour. I was right. The vein in my right arm decided to form a clot before the blood bag was half way full, so Norah wiggled the needle around to try and get some more blood out. That was unsuccessful so she stabbed another vein in that arm, which produced literally no blood. At this point, I was gritting my teeth while Norah smiled. She then switched arms and finally found a vein in my left arm as she sang “You are toooooo liiiiitle. Your veins are inviiiiisibleeeee.” After a bit more needle wiggling, we finally had a pint of blood. All I could say was OUCH! I laid on the bed for 20 minutes while Norah wrote down her phone number and invited me to dinner at her house—I was just trying not to faint. When I felt up to it, I wolfed down a Nutrigrain bar and started walking back to the residence. I continued up the hill when I realized that if I was to faint, I would most likely hit my head on a rock and wake up in a strange Kenyan home. I put a little pep in my step and finally ended up on the couch of my beautiful residence. I did it!!

For those of you who are worried about my health, as my mom was, I am happy to inform you that the needles used were very sterile. Furthermore, St. Joseph’s Mission Hospital is dedicated to preventing the spread of HIV/AIDS and therefore, takes the necessary measures to use new needles on every patient. I also have come to the conclusion that God simply would not let me get HIV for saving a child’s life, just like the doctors here don’t get TB though they are exposed to it each day. But, I still pray each day that HIV is not in God’s plan for me, just to be safe!

Collins received my transfusion the following day at noon after the his blood was cross-matched with mine. By Friday, he was sitting up, laughing, and talking to his family showing much improvement. During rounds that day, Dr. Otonga told Collins and his mom that he received my blood during the transfusion, and I could see the gratitude in their eyes. Their surprise accompanied by endless “Thank-You’s” proved that the pain of the needle was nothing compared to the pain Collins had been enduring for weeks.

Thursday afternoon included the new girls’ first trip to the market, which went rather smoothly. On our way home, I was greeted by an old man walking with a cane. He asked if I spoke Swahili, and I said “hapana” (clever, I know). He proceeded to teach me that cuja= come and twende= let’s go. Judy told me that he was actually telling me to come with him to his place. Some locals on the street asked him if they could have one of us girls but he said that we were his girls? Odd. A 16-year-old boy, Elias, from the hospital who had chicken pox and malaria came over unannounced when we returned. I was happy to see his smile and excited to introduce him to my mom over skype. I gave him some neat pencils and he was on his way to school at 5 pm. Helen, who I have decided is a saint, made us pizza for dinner. It was homemade bread and sauce covered in vegetables and cheese. Let me tell you, corn on pizza is scrumptious!

As I woke to the smell of scones warming the room Friday morning, I was excited to begin a new day at the hospital. I only have a few days left in the children’s unit but I am becoming very close to the patients and their families. I am greeted with smiles as I walk into the ward. The morning meeting today included two cases of patients who had died over the night. The first case was a baby born yesterday morning who may have had a congenital. However, the correct tests were not ordered which could have saved the babies life. This is the frustrating part of the hospital here- so many patients could be saved but aren’t because of a lack of communication. The other deceased patient was a 76-year-old man that died from possible liver failure due to alcoholism. The problem at St. Joseph’s is that the cases are discussed each morning because the doctors honestly don’t know what kills most patients. This man had a history of drinking but never had tests ordered on his liver, and therefore, they are unsure of what happened. Autopsies are not performed unless the family requests them so everyone is truly left in the dark regarding the cause of death of most patients. Additionally, over the night, a patient was admitted after he had been shot with an arrow through the nose. The day ended on a high note with 5 discharges in the Children’s Ward. Because there were so many, Dr. Otonga taught me how to do discharge paperwork and let me sign my name as the discharging clinician. Does that make me a doctor? Yep.

         
          On Saturday, we headed to Lake Victoria with a hospital driver, Willis. The lake was massive and a strange combination of green/blue/brown. We took a sketchy motorboat out on the lake to catch some rays and relax. My favorite part of this endeavor was when the Kenyan man taking us on the boat swept me up and carried me across the mud onto the ladder—HOW ROMANTIC! We spent the day on Kenyan time driving around Homa Bay and eating lunch around 3 pm. On our way back, we picked up the most delicious pineapples on Earth—literally I could eat a whole pineapple but my tummy started hurting. I also found a jump rope in the residence to add to Blaire’s Kenyan Workout, which my dad was happy to hear. We are playing in a tournament 2 days after I return, so he is hoping I’m not completely out of shape. The night ended with Sleepless in Seattle, a perfect end to a week full of African adventures.

The Same in Every Language

After my weekend as the lone mzungu in Migori (or so it seemed), the language barrier has become noticeable but rarely problematic. Many people here speak some English--especially the children that attend the private schools across the street. While I often play games of charades with the people of Migori to communicate, I have found that one thing sounds the same in all languages: laughter.

As I spoke to Gabe the physiotherapist last Friday, I found him laughing at my silly questions about Kenya and my numerous accents. Gabe was convinced that I was British (apparently Blaire is a British name?) until I did my Southern accent for him. And then my Australian accent. And then the famous Kazakhstan accent. He finally had to ask where my ancestors were from so I told him that I was mostly German and Irish. This lead to excessive laughter when he asked, "So you have Irish blood in you? Irish blood is crazy!!" So here I am, the crazy Irish mzungu walking alone down the streets of Migori. Could I possibly stand out anymore??

On Sunday, the entire town of Migori became a place of worship. I went outside to workout/run around like a 4 year old when I heard the constant singing of distinct male and children voices from a nearby church. This was so much more inspiring than any music I could have played on my IPod while working out. As I sat down to stretch, three young boys approached me and just stared at me for what seemed like 15 minutes. I said "Hi!" so they decided to shake my hand and resume staring at me. One little boy seemingly spoke some English, and I think he was asking me for a ball so I ran in the house. I came back with 3 frisbees, a toy they were not familiar with. I showed them how to throw it before they took the frisbees and chucked them across the yard at the grazing cows. They would then run after the frisbee giggling, eager to throw it again. And again. And again. I had so much fun watching these boys throw the frisbees as hard as they possibly could. Before leaving, they thanked me for the new toys and ran home giggling.

Monday began as a normal day at the hospital with the morning meeting at 8 am Kenyan time (so about 8:12). As I walked into the office, I was greeted by 7 PA students from Pacific University in Oregon. I  exclaimed "Good Morning!" louder than I had planned in my excitement. It turns out, many of these students are from different parts of Colorado- what a coincidence! As I left the hospital for lunch around 11:30, I was walking at my usual quick pace when a man crossed the street to say hello to me. We stopped and began speaking when he told me that he saw me walking around the hospital last week but I looked busy so he didn't stop me. However, he had a "desire to be my friend." People that know me well know that when I don't know how to respond to something or I get nervous, I start giggling. So I'm standing in the middle of the road as motorcycles zoom by laughing unnaturally hard. The man, named Aquinos, asked if I had a phone for him to contact me on (I don't know my phone number), if i had a Twitter, and if  I was on Facebook. Between bouts of laughter I told him that he will just have to hope we run into each other on this road again. He told me that he wanted to take me for a "stroll" so I told him that maybe I could stroll with him tomorrow after work. Though I may never see this man again, and I don't particularly like strolling with strangers in Kenya, I was happy to have brightened his day with my nervous laughter and rosy cheeks.

During rounds in the Children's Ward this morning, I was greeted by the most adorable children on Earth. Their huge eyes, chubby cheeks, and toothless smiles could melt anyone's heart. So many of these children are extremely sick with malaria, anemia, and abscesses. Unfortunately, I'm not a real life doctor yet (though I like to think I am sometimes), so I can do very little to truly save these kiddos. Instead, I have taken it upon myself to hold their hands when their bandages are changed and make funny faces at the babies who begin crying upon examination. One patient in particular is a little girl with malaria who has the world's chubbiest cheeks and was dressed in a princess costume. Her smile lights up the room as I play peek-a-boo behind my notebook. Another young boy named Brian had his hand crushed in the sugar processor. Brian is ready to be discharged, but his mother is travelling here from Nairobi, so he must hang around the hospital surrounded by illness. As I approached Brian and his friend today, I literally walked directly into a bright blue mosquito net hanging from the ceiling. Though I thought no one saw me, Brian and his friend were smiling ear to ear fighting laughter. I blushed and smiled. If I could make Brian's day just a little better with my clumsiness, I would run into things all day long. The laughter and smiles I have caused in these few days lets me know that I am doing my job over here by brightening the town of Migori one person at a time.

Pictures!

Amsterdam Centraal

Home Sweet Home

Monica- she asked me to take a picture with her and her foot and print it out for her, unfortunately I have no printer and don't speak Swahili...yet

Hippo!

Simba the Lion

Carrying water up the hill after stepping in a huge mud puddle

Safari with Martin the Ultimate Driver and Jason the Canadian

Momma Cheetah and Baby

 Elephant- slightly evil but SO cool

 P.S. I have learned a few words in Swahili:
          Jambo- Hello
          Karibu- Welcome
          Hakuna Matata- it's all good (thank you Lion King)
          Asante sana- Thank you very much
          Sawa sawa- Okay
          Hapana- No
          Haburi- How are you; respond with Nzuri- I am fine
          Mozungu- white person
         

I will post more pictures soon as long as the internet cooperates!

You are Welcome

After one week at the hospital, I think it is safe to say my life is no longer in immediate danger. There are no elephants around to trample me or Masaai children running around with machetes while our car is stuck in a river. My average day looks something like this:

   5:45- the church bells ring so loud it sometimes rattles the house, but I often sleep through them somehow

   7:13- my alarm goes off, so I hastily make my bed and put my stuffed animal parrot, Rafiki, on my pillow before tucking in my mosquito net

   7:30- eat some toast with honey on it for breakfast, sometimes with a little Kenyan tea

   8:00- morning meeting with the doctors at the hospital beginning with a prayer; oftentimes we say the Our Father but I seriously struggle to say it as fast as they do

   8:15- morning rounds in the Maternity, Pediatric, Surgical, or Medical ward

   11:30- home for lunch, which usually consists of potatoes and some sort of mystery meat that my stomach is    not very fond of

   I am then free to do whatever I want all afternoon, so my Canadian pals and I would usually watch Grey's Anatomy and head to the market to get kit kats, Obama lollipops, and huge jugs of water. Each night, I put my ear plugs in and tuck my mosquito net around me around 10 pm.

I cannot believe I have only spent one week at the hospital because I have already learned so much! The head doctor, Dr. Agullo, along with the other doctors are so eager to teach us everything about each patient we visit during rounds. I quickly learned that most children in the hospital have malaria, as apparent by their pale eyelids and high fever. One child, Brian, had his hand mangled in a sugar processor, but surprisingly broke no bones in the hand. He now attends physical therapy with Gabe, one of the coolest men I have ever met. Yesterday, Gabe had no patients all morning so we talked for over an hour about his family, my family, and the concerns that the Kenyan people face. Gabe informed me that the hospital is filled to about 1/4 of capacity now because people do not have the money to afford treatment until the harvest season arrives in June. He also spoke about the great number of children in the rural areas with polio, whose parents cannot afford treatment so they lock the children in a room--this is one of Gabe's greatest concerns. He treats many fractures, as well, from motorcycle accidents because, as I said before, the driving around here is beyond dangerous and the roads are not paved.

One day, I was able to observe two surgeries for which we dressed in over-sized "sterile" scrubs and huge rain boots. In the first surgery Dr. Agullo removed the placenta from a woman who had a miscarriage but the placenta remained inside her causing aches and fever. In the other surgery, Dr. Agullo removed a golfball-sized growth from the intestine of a woman and sent it to labs to be tested for cancer. The surgical techniques are very different here because they do not have the necessary tools and patients often wake up during surgery.

During rounds in the surgical ward the following day, I visited a patient named Monica whose toes were amputated but she still walks around on her foot slowing the healing process. She is such a nice, chatty woman but speaks only Swahili, so we struggled to communicate a bit. Another younger girl named Veronica with epilepsy suffered serious burns after falling into the fire while cooking. We also visited a man who may need an appendectomy and an older man who had a hernia. Dr. Mobunga lead these rounds and was so informative about the logistics of each injury and the treatment plans. Rounds in the maternity ward included visiting patients who had recently given birth by C-section and those who had gynecological problems. Medical ward rounds were the most frightening to me because most patients had tuberculosis (which is spread through the air) and meningitis. 

Our adventures to the market are quite possibly the most adventurous things I have done in my life. It begins with walking all the way down the hill to town while avoiding motorcycles, donkeys, and puddles/streams. As we pass the primary and secondary schools, children start following us and yelling "How are you!!" and "Mzungu!!" which means white person. They then start playing this game where they try to see how close they can get to us without us noticing which leads to excessive laughter from the peanut gallery. As we approach the market, we have to walk by the smelliest chicken coup to ever exist and I usually gag. After retrieving 5 to 10 liters of water each, we must make the trek back up the hill to our residence. This is when the "carrying things on my head" talent that many Kenyan women have could seriously come in handy. One day, a boy noticed how much I was struggling and offered to carry my 10 Liters of water to the residence, but I was far too determined to do it myself, which lead to much laughter from the girls following behind him.

Each day as I meet another doctor or nurse and introduce myself (they do not really know how to pronounce Blaire over here), the Kenyan responds with the phrase "you are welcome" or in Kenyan "karibu." While it may seem that the people are simply welcoming me to their country, they actually mean something very different. Kenyans truly value each visitor they encounter and make an effort to accept them into the culture here. Karibu is used to express how happy they are to have me here, and I have been accepted into the Kenyan family. With a simple handshake (which Kenyans LOVE), I am no longer a stranger to the community, but a valued member. This is just one example of how genuinely friendly and happy the Kenyan people are each and every day--they have huge hearts and love to share compassion with everyone they meet. I am very excited to learn more about the culture and develop relationships with the children in Pediatrics next week! 

In Kenya, we say Hakuna Matata

After one crazy week of Kenyan adventures, I can finally sit back and say "it's all good." I wish that I could explain in detail all that has happened to me since my departure from the States, however, that would be impossible. From Denver to Detroit to Amsterdam to Nairobi, I have experienced what most people experience in a lifetime: wandering in foreign cities, being lost in an airport, threatened by an elephant, and stuck in mud surrounded by Masaai men. Here is a glimpse of my first week across the globe. Please do not try these at home!

Amsterdam
I landed safely in Amsterdam on Thursday at noon with one mission in mind: find a camera charger. Leave it to me to forget the most important piece of technology of all time. The Amsterdam airport aka Schiphol is somewhat like a small city full of jewelry stores, technology stores, museums, and restaurants. However, an hour of exploring and checking in for my next flight was enough time for me to decide I'm going to the city!! I placed my extremely heavy backpack in a locker, only to initially leave my camera in it, and set out for the train station. The 10 minute ride to Amsterdam Centraal was enough time for me to realize that this courageous act was totally worth it. The city is full of beautiful architecture surrounded by canals and people. I set out to find the Anne Frank House, which seemed easy enough, but found myself puzzled in the abyss of Heineken signs and bicycles. So, I turned around and sat in a real coffee shop that sold coffee for quite a while. I then wondered around aimlessly while people yelled "Oi! Oi!" in my direction and hit me with plastic cups. I'm fairly sure this was their way of greeting me. As I walked back toward Amsterdam Centraal, it began raining, of course, so I hopped back on the train to Schiphol. On this train, some foreign man asked ME where this trained was headed- apparently I looked rather Europe, which is quite the accomplishment in my book. I safely boarded the plane an hour early very satisfied with my adventures. Hakuna Matata.


Nairobi
I landed in Nairobi 45 minutes earlier than expected and was able to purchase a visa and a phone before picking up my baggage (both of which arrived safely). Then the issues started. I found myself stranded in the airport surrounded by Kenyans, none of which had my name on their sign. At this point, I clearly looked like a lost American girl and was offered help by a hotel representative and some German people. Finally, my driver named Moses arrived and said "Are you Blaire?" We then drove to a beautiful home owned by a woman named Stella where I took a warm shower and a nap before the program director, Josh, arrived. Josh informed me that instead of heading to Migori as planned, we were to go on the safari in Masaai Mara that weekend with the rest of the group. Hakuna Matata. I proceeded to watch Bratz and Barbie movies all day with Stella's daughter Tamara while we played with pipe cleaners. In the morning, we began our excursion to Masaai Mara after drinking delicious Kenyan Chai. The crazy Kenyan driving only worsened during rush hour, and I mean drive-down-the-middle-of-a two-lane-road-while-people-run-across crazy. The driver, Martin, asked if I wanted to sit in front with him, to which I responded "No thanks!" I met with the rest of the Medics to Africa group in Naroc where many smiling Kenyans were walking by the road. Just after spotting a bunch of wild giraffes and zebras by the road, we found a traffic jam and the rain began. As it started pouring, we sped in front of the other vehicles on a Titanic Safari. We got safely to the other side of the river somehow, but the other van had no such luck. We ended up being stuck in this river, surrounded by children demanding sweets and Masaai men with spears and machetes for 5 hours. Each van safely got through the river with help of the other drivers, except us. As the sun began to set, Josh arranged for an army vehicle to take the 10 of us up the hill to the place where other cars would meet us. We found ourselves at the lodge, which had no electricity, at 8 pm after leaving Nairobi at 8 am. Hakuna Matata.



Masaai Mara
The following morning our safari began at 7:30, which made up for the long journey to Masaai Mara. We saw cheetahs, giraffes, elephants, lions, hippos, buffalo, and a hyena up close and personal. As we were driving to lunch at the Tanzania border, we found a stray elephant which seemed a bit agitated. We stopped to take pictures when he became extremely angry and started to back up before charging at our vans. I didn't know if I should be scared or excited, so I like to say I was a combination of the two.We made our way back to the lodge and sat around a campfire after an action packed day. Hakuna Matata.

On Monday, we went on a morning game drive at 6:15 a.m. to see more lions napping. Again, we found as stranded mother elephant with her babies. She also felt threatened by us and trumpted before running at the vans- very frightening to say the least.We left Masaai Mara around 10 a.m. to head to Migori and grab some souvenirs on the way (I got some VERY neat stuff).We, again, got stuck in the muddy river where the Masaai men helped us out for a price of 5000 shillings. Hakuna Matata. We finally got back to the residence at St. Joseph's Mission Hospital at 8 pm last night after what seems like the most adventurous, action-packed week of all time.

Unfortunately, my incredible pictures are refusing to upload today so I will try again tomorrow!

Migori
Today was my first day working in the hospital. We started our day with a meeting and a prayer with the head doctors at 8 am. I then attended to pain rounds with my new Canadian friends in the Pediatric unit. Most patients had malaria which caused severe anemia, though one boy's hand was shredded by a sugar cane machine but no bones had been fractures. We then sat in the physiotherapy office for a bit before lunch. Tomorrow, we are headed to the Maternity ward where we hope to deliver a baby!

Overall, I am so happy to finally be at the hospital working with the Kenyan people. It is amazing how many people speak English and are happy to welcome you here. The next 4 weeks will be filled with stories about the hospital and my lovely residence where mosquitoes and flies are plentiful. Apparently a lizard wanders around the living room every so often, so I am mentally preparing for him. I miss everyone so much and I thank you all for the warm thoughts and prepares. I can't wait to come home and see you all soon!!

Goodbye USA, Hello Kenya!!

After years of anticipation, I am headed to Kenya TOMORROW for 5 weeks. For those of you who do not know, I am participating in a program called Medics to Africa in Migori, Kenya. There, I will be volunteering in St. Joseph's Misson Hospital attending pain rounds, observing and assisting in surgeries, and interacting with patients on a daily basis. At the end of my trip, I get to go on a 3-day safari with the Masai Mara tribe, sleeping in a hut surrounded by the African wildlife. I can't believe I have been given this opportunity, and I will try to post updates with pictures often. If you'd like to contact me, I will have limited access to email and skype during my stay:

email: blaire@umich.edu
skype: blaire_strietelmeier

A few things I have learned while preparing:

- My dad has offered just about everything to convince me not to go, including: a car, a trip to Sweden, a functioning hot tub, a TV in my room, and a horse (all of which I have turned down)

- Safari gear is really neat- I purchased some sweet boots, a neon camping backpack, a mosquito net, loads of bug spray, and malaria pills YUMMY

- The Typhoid vaccination hurts really bad

- I will have to entertain myself for 9 hours in the Amsterdam airport because, apparently, the city is too dangerous for a sheltered, red-haired girl like myself

- I have invested in a new camera and am hoping not to lose it/break it. My track record with cameras is embarrassing really

- Everyone is really worried about me- especially my parents, my brothers not so much

- Everyone also knows how life-changing this experience will be and cannot wait to hear my stories!

See you all in June!