Malay Hideaway

Twenty kilometers outside of Kuala Kangsar in the Malaysian state of Perak, lies a trickle of man-made islands on a man-made lake, Tasik Cenderoh. Nestled among the dense, plush greenery is SukaSuka Lake Retreat, run by a family of 3- the youngest to stand about 3 feet tall and greet everyone individually with a "Welcome to my house." The calm and serenity hit most during the 10 minute boat ride from the mainland, when it's apparent that the hustle and bustle of the city is long gone.
Any stress or continuous plaguing thoughts slowly drift away leaving only the peace that envelopes everyone. It's possible to fight the calm, but the fight won't last long.

One room bungalows scatter the shore with open air community areas for continued
relaxation. Benches facing different directions of the lake provide various and spectacular views. One lonely hammock sags between two trees challenging whomever to not hit the ground upon sitting.
Silence is coupled with crickets in the distance until broken by the gecko's call to indicate truth telling among the visitors. Few sit within the same vicinity but none feels obligated to speak- just feel.

Not far from SukaSuka is Batu Ring, a small village of 250- home to a nameless waterfall about 10 meters high. The winding trail hops, skips and jumps back and forth across the river.
Slippery rocks become obstacles overcome either by dropping into the river, feet consumed by the water or by perfecting enough balance to get across with the lightest step. The small climb up the rocks to the waterfall pool is quite worth it. The water bubbles matching the sound of the water hitting the pool.
The cool water envelopes the body with only a slight gasp of air before comfortability sets in. Diving off the rocks just next to the fall provides some entertainment. Standing under the fall is like nothing else- to have the pure weight bearing down crashing into the current of the river creates a sense of purity. Purity met by leeches is an unforeseen paradox to the whole experience.

There's nothing like a traditional home cooked Malaysian meal to follow the leech infested hike to the waterfall. Both men and women clad in sarongs follow their host to their seats on the floor in the dining area. Sitting cross legged is the more traditional way to sit. Only the right hand is used to scoop the various dishes onto the padded down rice.
The right of refusal is permitted only when a guest succeeds in finishing their plate before their designated host does. Without this, a guest cannot refuse more rice or food. Conversation is the best indicator of a successful dinner while lack thereof is seen as a near disaster. Great conversation is had by all until it is time to retreat to separate bungalows. A good night sleep is possible though comfortability is challenged by mosquito nets and the foreign sounds all around.

Americanization

To walk out the front gate is a different adventure each day. Some days, people could care less that I exist and others, it's as if the whole world or time stops as I pass. Men drilling stop to take a look; women in the middle of their morning gossip pause to gawk. Children repeat the only phrase they know, "How are you?"-some without full comprehension of what they're saying and others too shy to respond when the question is returned. For the children, it becomes a game, or a dare. how many points does one get for asking the question? for touching the mzungu's hand? or getting a wave? Children run up to stroke my arm, grab my hand, or just to get a closer look. Some volunteers have even had their arms licked because we might taste differently or our skin might taste like ice cream. I have even had one girl jump away from my out-stretched hand afraid to be touched by the white.

Past the children, adults murmur mzungu, make cat calls or just plain ask me to walk over to their stand to buy their merchandise. Some laugh or nervously giggle. Not one day goes by that I am not asked for money, whether by adults or children. For this, I thank missionaries. Some groups that come, flash their money, bunches of gifts and leave after they've "helped" some poor people. When problems continue, and band-aid methods wear off, who is left to help? Put this idea together with the
televangelists who litter television channels with the idea that god wants you to be rich, have a big house and multiple cars. Add the half-naked women on the television screen and a stereotype emerges. Ideas of belief will grant you all these things juxtaposed with the provocative dancing make quite a negative impression of Americans. No wonder there is such a poor image of Americans! It makes sense, then, why I've heard speeches of, "We need money, and if we wait god will provide, and white volunteers will give us money."

How easy it is for Americans to be blamed for so much? Japanese officials are concerned over American influence on their constituents because of an average weight gain. Yet, when they've instituted classes run by Taebo Master, Billy Banks, there is no mention of him being an American and the influence of exercise. CNN reports on English banks having problems with lending money and how the average debt in England has increased because US lenders told them to lend more with lower interest rates. Interesting.

One might think that if the US president were to speak, it would put everything into perspective and restore a sense of rationality outside of the US. Unfortunately, we can't even put any hope in that. Bushisms are the best resource and indicator of why this is true. If countries get fatter its the US, if there is a bomb, it's the US, if there is poverty, it's the US. White Man's Burden comes to mind- born into privilege by the color of my skin, I belong to the group responsible for all the problems in the world and therefore need to fix them. Maybe, for some of us as individuals, we can try and do some damage control, but unfortunately, that is one struggle I'm not sure I want to continue fighting. People won't change their minds unless they want to- I'll stick with being seen as only worth money and focus on my own guilt for not being able to do more.

Lions and Zebras and Gazelles, oh my!

Eight hundred and twenty-five square miles of land, Masaimara is one of the best places to take a safari because there are roads all over the property to allow close viewing of the animals. Masaimara stretches all the way across the southern part of Kenya meeting the Serengeti in Tanzania. In Tanzania, there is only one road around the whole area so travelers look from afar at the animals. Luckily for us, we went during the wildabeest migration.
This can only be seen from August until September when the wildabeests migrate from Kenya to Tanzania trekking around 250 kilometers. They have to cross the Mara River and take on the crocodiles and intense currents. The river itself is not very wide, but it has caused quite some harm to the migration (not enough to hurt the actual population of wildabeests).
Such amazing creatures they are that they run and migrate in single file. Truly amazing to watch as well as the mingling with zebras, buffalos, impalas and gazelles.

Our first day, we drove the six hours to Masaimara and went on a dusk excursion for 3 hours. What luck that on our first night, we saw 4 out of 5 of the Big 5. The Big Five are the five animals that were considered to be the most desired to hunt. They are the lion, buffalo, elephant, leopard and rhino. We saw all but the rhino. In all of Masaimara, there are only 32 rhinos and there are the rarest of them all, the black rhino.
Leopards and elephants are also considered to be rare. We saw lots of elephants and had them near our campsite since we heard them one morning. Leopards are extremely rare and are different from cheetahs in their shorter tail length, facial markings and inclination to climb trees. Cheetahs have longer tails to aid in their running speed. Leopards usually hunt and live by themselves while cheetahs can be found either alone or in groups of two or three.
Buffalos are one of the only animals were the females have horns as well as the males. The Grand Gazelle, Thompson Gazelle and wildabeests are also known for the females having horns. Gazelles are divided up into family clans and bachelor clans. Bachelors are all the males that have to fight to get into a family clan. (I know it looks like I superimposed my face onto this picture of the lion, but I swear I didn't. The family clan has one male and many females. The male watches over all the females and will be fought by a male from the bachelor clan in order to take over. Impalas are smaller versions of the gazelles and the females do not have horns. The male ostriches are marked by black feathers and an orange beak, while the females have gray feathers and a gray beak.
In all we saw ostriches, warthogs, zebras, giraffes, lions, elephants, a cheetah, a leopard, buffalos, wildabeests, hippos, crocodiles, guinea fowls, a hyena, monkeys, baboons, impalas, gazelles, buzzards and vulchers. I think that's everything with the exception of some other birds and little critters.

We almost witnessed the wildabeests actually crossing the river except they became spooked when a bird flew by right as they were about to cross. Instead, I was able to get great footage of the wildabeests running, hundreds of them, in single file, the following day.
Unfortunately, I cannot upload videos to my blog at this point. What was interesting was a lion was hunting the wildabeests while they were running. They halted immediately upon four safari cars stopping. The wildabeests stopped causing the lion to stop. Interesting how they tell us that man hasn't affected life in the Reserve. Eventually, the two lionesses crouched down while the wildabeests took a different route and ran right in front of our car. We also had the luxury of seeing an actual lion pride. The striking male, the female and their three, 5 week old cubs. It was absolutely beautiful. The mingling of the animals is also very touching and completely natural.

On our second day, we are driven about 100 kilometers to the Tanzania border where they actually briefly drive us over the border and allow us to take pictures. To go farther than that into the Serengeti requires permission and official entrance.

Although we were grateful to see the animals so closely (at times it seemed we were about 10 feet from lions or zebras) it is quite alarming to see the impact of humans. A lioness walked right passed all our cars and was not even fazed by us. The leopard we saw did the same thing. Trust me, those are hippos behind me. Wildabeests and impalas seemed more alarmed by us and would curb their route or journey until we were no longer a threat. Male lions slept within 15 feet of our motor running and barely looked up to see the noise. Because of the emissions tests or lack thereof, trucks emit such pollution right in the vicinity of the animals.
At one point, the exhaust pipe of the other van that held the rest of our group blew off and puffs of smoke and exhaust pumped into the air, not far from some zebras. By the end of our tour, I felt quite uncomfortable and decided it was time to move on. One of our last sightings was the lion pride and the trucks kept going around and around in circles of the bushes trying to get the best shot.
The family continued to move, of course to protect their cubs, as the cars followed them. It was amazing to see them but after we continued moving and following them, I felt it was time to move on. On a different note, hunting and poaching are illegal in Kenya and those found committing the act are put to death.

All in all, this has been an extraordinary experience for me. I learned an abundance and we were fortunate to have an amazing guide, Douglas. He did an excellent job getting us the closest he could without crossing the limit on how close we could get. I had to continue reminding myself that these animals were wild and actually had to hunt for their food or walk miles to get to water. We did see some carcasses but I will spare you all of those stories (though I do have some pictures if anyone would like to see them). Just like most everything we've done, I would definitely recommend going on a safari, especially in Masaimara. There's nothing like watching hot air balloons rise over the sunrise with the peaceful picture of zebras, wildabeest, elephants and impalas all convening in the same area.

From Bees to Baboons

On Thursday, Christina and I worked in Gataka helping Tabitha and Moses. Finding our way back during our 45 minute walk, a ruckus occurred with various people making a detour from the main road. Not speaking Swahili, Tabitha informed us that there were bees in the road and people were walking around or waiting for them to disperse in order to continue down the road. Even trucks were avoiding the bees. Not really understanding the severity of the situation, Christina reminded me that if you don't move, bees won't hurt you. Boy, weren't we naive.

We made a deal with Tabitha and Moses. We would walk down the road and when we made it through, we would wave them on. We embarked on our adventure and oh an adventure it became. As we walked, we talked, and then I said we should be quiet because I believed I heard the buzzing. Immediately after I spoke, we were taken over by the bees. They swarmed all around us. They were all over us. I had them in my hair (at least 5 or 6 were literally stuck in my hair), down my shirt,
all over my arms. We continued to walk until one stung me on my arm and then another on my neck. I could have sworn Christina yelled run (it turns out she didn't and I don't know who did but I took their advice) so I ran. I started waving my arms around like a madwoman screaming and yelling for people to get out of the way because of the bees. Christina didn't wait long before she followed. We ran as hard as we could trying to flick the bees off us while onlookers remarked about the two crazy white girls running down the street.

Luckily for us, a group of men told us to grab our long sleeve shirts and whip it around us to get the bees off. We were the smart ones who didn't put the shirts on before we started our journey. Then some men yelled for us to lay flat on the ground. We immediately dropped, covering our faces as the bees continued to crawl and sting.
The men covered us completely and not knowing what their intent was, other than to help us, I kept yelling that they trapped the bees with us and what good would that do? Within seconds, the men had made fires all around us and one by one the bees left or died from the smoke. At one point, Christina was almost burned by the fire because they put it too close to her head but they quickly removed it and kept it within a safe distance to harm the bees.

Eventually, the men allowed us to get up and with some laughter we continued our walk. Picking off the few last bees out of our clothes and pulling out the stingers, we were joined by Tabitha and Moses who took the safe route and ran the detour. Overall, I made it through with only 4 stings (it turned out that they did get me on my legs, which at first we thought was untrue) but unfortunately, for Christina, she had 17 all over her arms and back.

Fast forward to Saturday when we were in Masaimara. After a long but successful day on a safari, we made it back to our camp and were anxiously awaiting our chance for dinner. Another volunteer, Skye, and I were walking from our tent up to the dining area and noticed three baboons fighting. We stopped to watch and in an instant, the three stopped and turned on us. Sacha, another volunteer, came out of his tent to see what was going on. I told him not to worry and that the baboons wouldn't get in his shoes (no idea why, but it was a fear of his) and as I said this, the three baboons started coming for Skye and me. They didn't stop either. They ran us all the way to an open area and one of them broke off and went for Sacha. He yelled, "Puss puss!" (not sure why either but it worked) and the baboon left him alone. Skye and I made it safely to dinner but from then on we were on guard everytime we made our way to our tent.

Moral of the story: Don't go through a swarm of angry bees especially when strong Kenyan men run the other way and don't come across baboons who had just been fed bread from some extremely smart foreigners, who don't know any better.

Ongata Rongai, Kenya

Twenty-five kilometers outside of Nairobi, stands the slum of Ongata Rongai, housing 45,000 people in a small area (one of which I do not know the exact dimensions). The main road is paved while off chutes are made of dirt, garbage and sewage. Small markets align the main dirt road to our work and home. Most of the items sold are second hand but every once in awhile newly packaged shoes or hats are sold as well. Coal is commonly sold and coal markets are found about every 30-40 meters.
In most cases, you can take a group of people out of Rongai and place them in the middle of New York City, and no one would ever think they came from a Kenyan slum. Donkeys, dogs and sometimes goats are found picking through the rubbish piles...these piles are our landmarks to identify the correct route home. Rongai is considered to be one of the safest areas during the day because as long as their is a crowd, no one will mug you. If someone attempts or does mug another in a crowd, most likely they will be killed by the crowd.

We live on a compound. Our host mum runs The Center, where we work and our host dad works at Nairobi airport. They have five children, two of which live on the compound. One with his wife, two year old son and house girl and the other still at university, has his own private room.
There are two adopted sisters who live in another part of the compound. In another week, a new couple of volunteers will arrive and will also be living with us. It is quite a busy house but a fun one.

As can be imagined, the culture here is quite different. The mother in the family runs the house and everything to do with it, while the father works to support the family. Any laundry, any financial issues, any cooking or questions concerning the house must go through the mum. Fathers work many hours and are hardly around. This is the case for our host dad and his married son. They both work at the airport and are almost never home. Public humiliation is common and considered appropriate. On the news, we saw a man who tried to steal a tire beaten, stripped and mocked by a crowd for committing his crime.
He was left to waddle around the city streets of Nairobi, naked to escape the following crowd that was laughing and jeering. Another man found his wife committing adultery. He locked the two in his house, went and grabbed a few of his friends, returned with the crowd and after pulling the other man out of his house, he caned him until his face was unrecognizable with blood. As our host family watched these two segments on the news, they laughed and mocked both men for their crimes. Another volunteer here witnessed something like this live and said it was one of the most horrific events she's ever seen. What she saw happened to a woman. This laughter isn't even a giggle, it is uncontrollable laughter while tears stream down their face because they are laughing so hard.

Poverty is a whole different idea. Moi was a dictator for 24 years here in Kenya and let the economy fall apart. Those who opposed Moi were found and killed, according to some. In the last four years, the new administration has worked very hard to restore the economy and safety of Nairobi. Things have changed considerably. Mawi Kibaki is the current president and with pending elections in December, most people I've spoken with are hoping he will stay in power.
Primary school is now free (with the exception of fees for uniforms, exams and books) and there is hope that one day soon secondary school will be free as well. Right now tuition for secondary school, high school, is about $400USD a year, per student. While safety is still a concern, most Kenyans feel safer walking around Nairobi now than they did four years ago.

The Center, which is run by our host mum, consists of a feeding program, three classes and a VCT (Voluntary Counseling and Treatment) center. It is an amazing center and it is run extremely well. VCTs are set up by the government for citizens to be tested for HIV. Most charge a fee to be tested but the VCT at The Center does not charge.
There is an abundance of stigmatization that occurs with a person being tested so it is difficult to convince some women to be tested. More women than men usually get tested. There are cases of women owning shops and now that they are positive, people refuse to go to their shops. It is hard for women to get help and therefore through The Center, our host mum has also set up support groups for women, youth and older women.

The classes offered are for children who either are positive or their parent or guardian is positive. The children are aged 5-10, I believe. There are around 45 children in the classes. The feeding program is for these children and others that go to school in the area but do not have access to food.
On a slow day, 90 children will be fed and on a busy day around 174. There are three teachers, a cook, a woman for the VCT, our host mum and her daughter in-law who all work at The Center. Everyone but the teachers are volunteers. The teachers are paid whenever there is enough money to pay them.

Under The Center's name is a new school that just started about three months ago in a nearby slum, Gataka. There are two people who work there. One teaches and the other helps and cooks lunch for the children. There are over 40 children between the ages of 2 and 8.
Because of lack of resources the teaching is very informal. Most of the children's families cannot afford food so the meal they get at school is usually the only one they get each day. These children are also very affected by HIV.

Upon our arrival, our goal was to work in the HIV/AIDS program. Because The Center and Gataka are set up so well and run efficiently on their own, there is no work for us. Instead, they need money. Because we do not have a lot of money, we wanted to donate our time but since that is not an available option, we have struggled with what to do here.
We have been reduced to dollar signs which is quite discouraging. Though we have been approached in a more passive manner, there is nothing consistent about each day here for us, and we have been told that we need to see the culture here. We stigmatize those who are positive because of the color of our skin. We symbolize money and are approached quite often by those on the street to give money and buy things or else they will go hungry.

Through the degradation we have decided to start a small library at Gataka and The Center. We are collecting books from other volunteers here and building bookshelves. There are some childrens books already here and we plan on finding a second hand bookshop in Nairobi to purchase a few more. We are hoping to have books not only for the children but also for their guardians. Even though our time is not really desired at this point, we at least have found a focus for the time being. Coupling the library idea and small trips, our last two weeks here should be quite nice.