My second apartment in Kenya, Day 1
December 16, 2003
My apartment was
finally ready today. Robert promised to help move me in, but things were
chaotic. Finally, at 4:30, under intense pressure from Ledama, Robert
came to me and said, "I've called a taxi. I have to move you now."
I hadn't even packed. So I threw all my belongings into various bags and
moved in after 2 taxi rides. I have a nice mattress and a borrowed propane
stove. I rooted through my bags for 20 minutes to find my one roll of
toilet paper. And guess what? No running water! If only I had known, I
wouldn't have wasted my one flush on a little pee.
December 23, 2003
The wonders of this country never cease to amaze me. Like obtaining water, for instance. It seems like such a simple thing, especially when you have pipes coming right into your house. In America, it's just a matter of turning the knob. You can even have hot water if you turn the right one! Or is it the left one? I can't remember. Not so in Kenya.
After 5 days in my new apartment, I still had not experienced running water. On Friday, I sent a text message to Bill letting him know that I was running low and would need to get more. He never responded. The situation was getting desperate, so on Saturday, I had my personal cab driver (another story) bring 30 liters from town for me. After washing my clothes Sunday, that was gone. I went to the gas station in front of my complex and was able to secure another 20 liters. I had to pay a boy 20 shillings to carry it to my apartment for me.
Sunday afternoon, I met my neighbor Thomas, and asked him about the water situation. Listen to this. About twice a week, the landlord fills the tank in back with water. At that time, he turns the valve on to our apartments for a few hours. This is our opportunity to fill every container we have and hope that it lasts. I asked Thomas what the schedule for water was. "There is no schedule." So then what happens if you're not home? "That is unfortunate," he tells me.
Yesterday, I managed to sweet talk the watchman into opening the valve, and filled up all of my jugs, a few basins, a bucket, my water pitcher. All in all about 120 liters. I discussed the situation with Bill at work. He said he hadn't responded to my text because he wanted to see how I would handle the situation on my own. Nice. That evening, he agreed to transport a 100-liter jerry can to my apartment. To my amazement, the water was still on when I returned, so in an excited frenzy, I started filling my new container. I'd dumped about 20 liters of water into it before I realized there was a large unrepairable crack in the bottom.
January 15, 2004
I suppose I should describe a little bit about my living situation and my routine at home. I live about 2 km outside of town, uphill all the way. It is the Kenyan equivalent of an apartment complex, 6 round two-story cement buildings, each with 4 apartments. I live on the top floor. It's an efficiency. The main room is about 12'x12'. There is a small bathroom, kitchen, and alcove to serve as a closet. Crammed into the main room are a couch, two chairs, a double bed, and a set of shelves. Right now, the walls are bare. The floor is cement and painted red, and I have one straw rug. There is a door in the main room that goes to the adjoining apartment, but right now no one is living there.
As for my routine, it is remarkably simple. Come home. Boil water. Cook dinner. Boil water. Wash dishes. Boil water. Take a bath. Boil water. Make some chai. By then, it's usually time for bed. I may invest in an electric water boiler. You can get one in Nairobi for about 1000 shillings, and I think it would make my life a little easier.
October 22, 2004
Things haven’t changed much here since I left. It hasn’t rained in weeks, and the dust is as bad as it’s ever been. My water seems browner, if that’s even possible. I came down with yet another cold and felt sure that drinking the murky river water was the cause of it. So I barely drink anything any more. Last night, between the Meflaquine and dehydration, I tossed and turned and became convinced that I was Raul Julia in Kiss of the Spiderwoman, continuing to eat the poisonous food offered to me rather than starve, knowing it was only making me sicker. Granted, I’m not in a South American prison. I can walk out my door and buy bottled water. I just resent it.
Fortunately, I won’t have to worry about it much longer. When I went back to work Tuesday, Bill called me into his office with an issue he needed to discuss. I’d been gone from site for two weeks and was really worried he was going to fire me on the spot for being away so much, even though I’d told him where I’d be. Instead, he said he wanted me to move out of my place and into the volunteer housing where Jacintha lives. They were paying rent on 2 empty apartments in the compound, so it just seemed silly to have me occupying a third place. While I hate the idea of packing my things and moving, I know I’ll be happier there in the long run. Running water and electricity all the time!
