TravelStream™ news feed for member muratcan on TravelPod's free travel blogs service http://www.travelpod.com/syndication/rss/muratcan en-us Copyright ©2009 TravelPod.com Fri, 22 May 2009 06:53:46 -0400 http://www.travelpod.com http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/muratcan/3/1242637980/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/muratcan/3/1242637980/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/muratcan/3/1242637980/tpod.html Fri, 22 May 2009 06:53:46 -0400 Bulletpoints from My Moleskine: Volunteering in Kenya

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Istanbul, Turkey

Couple nights back, Alex and I joined the happy hour at a bar called "Cubana", situated somewhere between Long St. and the Waterfront. The Latin American music and decorations were pleasant while the cocktails were disappointing. Oh and the nachos weren't bad at all. Accompanied by merengue beats, Alex and I stroke a philosophical conversation. He commented that he didn't believe in diminishing returns within the context of an experience, such as volunteering. On the other hand, to me the value of an experience was equivalent to the rate of learning, which did diminish in time. Alex introduced the concept of an "Internal Learning Curve" that had a shape totally determined by what you make out of the opportunity. For instance, you may not be learning anything new from your teaching job, but the routine of the job provides you with an opportunity to detach yourself from your ordinary life, thereby allowing you to turn your attention inwards. If put to good use, this opportunity may allow one to arrive at a new understanding about oneself and also to produce masterful intellectual property. I agree with all this. However, this opportunity can be found in any comparable position, be it working at a group home in the US or volunteering at the IHF orphanage in Kenya. Therefore, the returns generated by "Internal Learning" are not intrinsic to the specific volunteering experience. Since only intrinsic returns should be attributed to the value of a specific experience, Internal Learning cannot prevent the returns of an experience from diminishing. What do you think Alex?I have to know the limits of my experience in Africa. I have a very good idea about Eastern Africa and a fair idea about the Southern parts. In South Africa, I saw a large city in depth, a smaller city briefly and only the posh rural life in the Winelands. However, I can clearly imagine an equivalent of the Kenyan farmer on one of the farms near Ivan's place, being present somewhere in the kwaZulu-Natal Province. I know that I haven't traveled as extensively in South Africa as I could have, but I came to this place with a different mindset. Wanted to see Alex and Selcuk, constantly be in the company of friends and escape from the depressing atmosphere in Nakuru.In retrospect, I am happy that my volunteering experience in Kenya turned out to be a very difficult one. This way it became the best experience possible and I grew from it. Perhaps I need to thank IHF for giving me the opportunity to negotiate with an intoxicated Kalenjin wielding a machete...After having spent a month in a badly-run orphanage, having visited 3 far better children's homes and spoken to numerous individuals involved in the process in different capacities, I have developed a few thoughts on the humanitarian aid process in Kenya. Humanitarian aid is being provided to Kenya, and possibly to many other African nations, in a wrong way. Too much cash, food and donations, and not enough training and local involvement. This horrid mix does not only make Kenyans addicted to Western aid, but also encourages racism in the sense that it forces Kenyans to treat muzungus as a stack of dollars. Unfortunately, the Western governments do not have sufficient incentive to reform the aid system, since it is in their best interest to make the developing world dependant on their support. Perhaps a strong incentive could be created for the governments if the disturbing issues related to the humanitarian aid process were shared with the citizens of the developed world and a loud pro-reform lobby were formed...Being home has never felt so good, even after Asia. However, there is a drawback. Although it has only been a few days since I left Africa, I am losing track of reality. The leap from the orphanage in Nakuru to my house in Kemerburgaz (one of the up-scale suburbs of Istanbul) has been so great that there is a disconnect between my past and present experiences. Therefore, one of them has to be real and the other one a dream. But which one is which?
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Istanbul, Turkey

When my plane landed and classical Turkish art music began to play, I was on the verge of crying. Although my journey had been extremely rewarding, it had been lonely and challenging. I had missed my family.The immigration officer asked what my job was. I told him that I had recently graduated with a B.A. in economics and that I didn't have a job yet. Another officer from the neighboring booth joined us. He told me that he had graduated in 2000, right into the 2001 economic crisis in Turkey. He was an econ major too. After searching for 6 years, he had become a police officer at the international airport. The moment the second officer joined the conversation spontaneously, I noticed for the first time that I was home. Loved it!I was surprised to see my large backpack once again. It hadn't gotten lost once. Somehow, it hadn't gotten stolen on one of the Indian trains either. Even though the backpack was very dirty, it was still in good shape. We had gone a long way together...The sliding doors opened. My Mum and Step Father were anxiously waiting for me. Mum hadn't had much sleep the previous night. She couldn't stop making up stories about my plane being hi-jacked. The past 100 days had been hard on her. I would like to apologize for that. But believe me, it had been tough on me too.I was carrying my tortoise shell for the last time: large backpack on the back and the smaller one on the chest. Got into our car and drove away. Transport by private car... What a luxury...As I had written on 06.11.2008, my objectives for this journey were: - beat your fear - try to understand the world - be spontaneous/take manageable risks - sort yourself out - live simply -read and write. I had accomplished every single one of these. I had been scared so many times for so many different reasons in the past 100 days that I was now numb to the fundamental emotion. Let's hope that this state is long-lived...My plan had always been no plan. Never thought about anything further than the day ahead and even tomorrow's schedule got tweaked several times along the way. This was a rigid person's exercise in flexibility. I believe that I have to combine the seemingly contrasting attitudes of rigid planning and fluid spontaneity in order to achieve success.I had a lot of time to think about the life I want to lead. Let's start off with a cliche... I want to get married and have 2 kids. Money is most definitely not the most important thing in life, but I should have enough to be able to travel with my family once in a while. Life without risks is a life not worth living. I need to take everything calmly, because I know that everything can be brought to a satisfactory level, any time, as long as you are flexible with your expectations and you keep working your brain. For me, that's life in a nutshell...I lived a simple life; spent little; wore the same clothes every day and stayed in neighborhoods that would be considered ghetto with respect to Istanbul standards. I am convinced that I am capable of adapting.Finally, reading and writing have been as essential, as eating has been. I didn't only write what I learned about the countries I have visited, but also the most important issues that I have ruminated on. Most probably, I would have gotten severely depressed if I didn't have a pen and a piece of paper. Marquis de Sade would agree...Still cannot believe that I neither got mugged nor had diarrhea.I am convinced that the world is not as dangerous of a place as popular media would have us believe. If it were, then something would have happened to me in the past 100 days, be it petty crime or a traffic accident. Remember, I threw myself into the fire without any protection...I am stronger than what I thought. This journey had been a major psychological, mental and physical challenge. Psychological because I had to manage my emotions constantly; mental because I had to develop my practical intelligence in order to solve travel-related problems and my analytical skills to attempt to decipher the world in a comparative fashion; and physical because had to carry 20 kgs on me for kms, lose sleep and weight, hike up mountains and cycle through villages. At times, I thought I wasn't going to make it back.My self-confidence has been restored. I went through the mouth of the world and got out of its anus. All alone...Today, I am less of a perfectionist as I had to keep screwing around with my expectations whenever a problem arose. And there have been quite a few problems, as you might have noticed...I am in complete control of my psychology.Nothing can scare me or demoralize me. No matter what happens, I will always stand up and keep going. I will be as strong as the steel in my Karra, the Sikh bangle that my Indian host family put on my right wrist.Being back feels weird. I have been far far away from the luxury and the warmth that my family has always provided for me. The change that has taken place ever since I stepped off of the Turkish Airlines flight has been so dramatic that it feels as if my 100 days of solitude have been nothing but a vague dream...
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/muratcan/3/1242039960/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/muratcan/3/1242039960/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/muratcan/3/1242039960/tpod.html Fri, 22 May 2009 06:40:29 -0400 Bulletpoints from My Moleskine: Volunteering in Kenya

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Cape Town, Western Cape, South Africa

Last night we had sushi at a stylish restaurant called "Beluga". Our German friend Simon was sitting across from me. We started talking about the soul of a city. Towards the end of our conversation I realized that Cape Town had none. The glass skyscrapers, the advanced infrastructure, the football stadium that was being built for the World Cup, the Unagi we were eating could all be found in a developed Western city. Let's be fair... The convergence of the Table Mountain Range and the oceans creates a majestic setting and no Western city can equal Cape Town in terms of income disparity.After spending over a week at Alex's, I decided to move to another friend's place so that I could spend a bit more time with him. Hence, I moved to Selcuk's apartment in Rondebosch, a suburb to the east of the Observatory. Selcuk is a Turkish friend from the boarding house of our high school. He was 2 years below me. Currently, he is a mechanical engineering major at Princeton. "What the hell is he doing in Cape Town?" you may ask. Well, he is doing a semester abroad at the University of Cape Town, which is the most reputable academic institution on the entire continent.As I was having breakfast at a coffee house called Cocoa Wah Wah near Selcuk's, I heard Alex honking at me in his rental Opel Corsa. We drove to the township (a.k.a. ghetto) where he taught. Although the thousand of metal shacks that constituted the township were in a terrible condition, the facilities at Alex's school were impressive. The high walls topped with barbed wire (an African favorite) circled a large garden, a sports facility and well-maintained classrooms. This was nothing like the wood-and-mud equivalents I had seen around Nakuru. Alex added that such schools were usually built with corporate sponsorship.Compared to Kenya, there is no tribalism in South Africa. She is more of a nation state. When you ask the common man on the street where he is from he doesn't give you his tribe, as they do in Kenya. The inhumanities of Apartheid seem to have destroyed tribal culture, thereby uniting the black majority.After dropping me off at the Waterfront, Alex drove to the town center to get rid of our rental car. I paid 180 rand at the Mandela Gateway to hop on a ferry to Robben Island. The tour was very well-organized, almost in an unAfrican fashion. The ferries departed on the second; buses and eloquent tour guides greeted us on the Island; a second very professional guide took care of us during the walking tour through Mandela's section. Then, they shipped us back, once again with shocking punctuality.Robben Island has been used as a prison ever since the second half of the 17th Century. The first political prisoner here was a native interpreter for the Dutch.Early explorers used the Island for grazing animals. Moreover, they would eat the penguins, which consist the 3rd largest penguin colony in the world today.Our tour guide of South Asian decent was excellent. He included the audience in his presentation by asking where we were from and then questions related to the respective country. I was impressed when he told a story based on a historical link between South Africa and Turkey. Wasn't aware of such a link... In the 18th Century, the Dutch brought in a Muezzin (Islamic clergyman) from the Ottoman Empire, because they were fearful that Islam would die out in South Africa. My guess is that the Dutch wanted to use the Turkish Muezzin as a religious leader through whom they could control the masses.The knowledgeable guide used to be a prisoner here himself. His crime was being a youth organizer for the Pan-African Coalition (PAC).The second ex-political-prisoner who was showing us around the wards had been a resident in one of them. He explained how races were segregated even inside the prison complex. For instance, blacks weren't allowed to wear trousers or jackets; they weren't allowed to eat as much meat as their South Asian counterparts either. Our second guide had been charged with terrorism. He was a recruiter for the military branch of the African National Coalition (ANC, the ruling party in South Africa today). He was 24 when he was released in 1990. Went to university; organized workers for a while; then returned to the Island as a guide. He admits that being back at the political prison was initially a nightmare. However, as he warmed up to the job, he began to find it cathartic.On the ferry back, there was an attractive girl from New York. Because I spent too much time waiting for the perfect moment to approach her, I missed my chance completely. 2 sleazy, middle-aged men took her under cross-fire and invited her to lunch. She accepted...While the Sleazy Men enjoyed the company of the Hot New Yorker, I had too much fried chicken for lunch. How much I had missed Colonel Saunders after having been deprived of him in Kenya... Moreover, I had 2 scoops of strawberry ice-cream from Haegen Dazs (is that how you spell it?).Took a cab back to Rondebosch. To my surprise, the cab driver was a lady of Malaysian decent, wearing a headscarf. She was listening to a recitation of the Qur'an and was happy to hear that I was Muslim too. She was planning to do the Haj this year, ins'Allah. When I told her that I had never been to Mekka, "One has to be prepared mentally..." she replied sagaciously.When I arrived home, Selcuk was studying for his upcoming programming exam. In the meantime, I checked my emails; went on Facebook, and read the news. The IHF-related critical Facebook group is growing strong. Within a few days we have almost reached 100 members.Selcuk's Lebanese-American roommate, Rashad, joined us at a light dinner at an Italian restaurant near their apartment. While I was having my Greek salad, I enjoyed sharing my Lebanon stories with Rashad. I'm very fond of my memories around the globe. I posses some unbelievable ones. Sometimes I think to myself: "Have I really lived through that or have I just caught a glimpse of it during one of the regular movie nights I have with Grandpa?"
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/muratcan/3/1241341500/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/muratcan/3/1241341500/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/muratcan/3/1241341500/tpod.html Fri, 22 May 2009 06:28:36 -0400 Bulletpoints from My Moleskine: Volunteering in Kenya

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Cape Town, Western Cape, South Africa

Alex is one of my closest friends from university. Currently, he is a volunteer teacher and research assistant in Cape Town. A few days ago, he picked me up from the airport and arranged a sleeping space for me on the floor of the house he is staying at. Thanks to him, I'm having a good time...Had strawberry juice, scrambled eggs and bacon at Mimi's, close to Alex's place at the Observatory. 40 Rands a piece. Chatted for a while about future plans. In a bit over a month, Alex will be out of here. Unfortunately, he will not be able to do the Trans-Siberian trip through Russia, as he had been hoping to. He is out of cash. Instead, will return to his hometown of Minnesota, U.S.A.; find a part-time job; apply to medical school and learn salsa. At med school, he may concentrate on psychiatry. During his time as a graveyard shift care taker, he had observed that nurses were very quick at administrating sedative drugs to their patients. His goal is to come up with alternative, non-chemical-based solutions.One of Alex's house-mates, Sasha drove me, Alex and Simon (a German friend of Alex's who had a birthday party last night) to Lion's Head. We hiked up all the way to the top of the mountain to see the gradually curving horizon. It took a good 1.5 hours to reach the peak and the sections where you had to climb with the help of a chain were especially strenuous.After picking up Carolina, Simon's half-African girlfriend, we drove to the ritzy part of the town, Camps Bay where we had ostrich burgers on the pavement. 60 rand. The Sun set behind the palm trees lining the entire coast, leaving prominent orange and dark blue stripes on the sky. This place reminded me of Malibu, California.I sleep on Alex's floor in my sleeping bag. It's not much different comfort-wise than sleeping at the IHF orphanage, but infinitely safer and more hygienic.Right now, Alex is planning his biology class for tomorrow. I am thinking about my first day alone in Cape Town.In this country, mugging has become a daily topic of conversation for the potentially-mugged, and a mechanism of informal wealth distribution for the mugger. Anxiety provoking...
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/muratcan/3/1241512380/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/muratcan/3/1241512380/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/muratcan/3/1241512380/tpod.html Fri, 22 May 2009 06:24:24 -0400 Bulletpoints from My Moleskine: Volunteering in Kenya

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Nairobi, Kenya

This week, I left Ivan's orphanage and moved to Nairobi for good.Anne had forgotten that there was construction work at her office today. So, she returned shortly after leaving for work. We made our way to the Yaya shopping center together. She had stuff to do at the Barclay's Bank there while I had to go online.It turned out that I had to fly out to Cape Town tomorrow if I wanted to get the tickets with my miles. So I had to tell Emanu (Anne's husband) that I was not going to be able to join him on the flight to his hometown of Kisumu tomorrow. Damn! I really wanted to visit his "home-squared", as Barack Obama calls such places in "Dreams from My Father". Next time...Had a few productive meetings about the International Humanity Foundation (IHF).Bought some gifts and a card for my host family. I usually send Turkish goodies for my host families, but this was just more convenient.After having a bad fish and chips at the Java House cafe, met Anne at her hair saloon. She took me to the Langatta Giraffe Center where we fed these animals of pure grace. They didn't enjoy being stroked like horses and there were signs warning us of head-butts.At home, I started packing, while Anne took a short nap. Then, we met Henry (my Kenyan friend from university) at a stylish lounge at the ABC Place, called "Mercury". I could not have imagined that such top-quality places existed in Kenya. Having been stuck in traffic, Henry was 45 minutes late. We shared a pitcher of sangria and talked about a random array of topics ranging from the new frontiers of music to the logic behind hiding my credit cards inside my underwear, from the dating scene at college to the sedentary work life...I was proud of myself. Courageously, I had stood up against IHF. I had used my contacts; figured out the Kenyan system; made the best use of my time, thereby making a change significantly more probable. The rest of my work will be carried out from a distance...
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/muratcan/3/1240835940/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/muratcan/3/1240835940/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/muratcan/3/1240835940/tpod.html Fri, 22 May 2009 06:21:57 -0400 Bulletpoints from My Moleskine: Volunteering in Kenya

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Nakuru, Kenya

The highlights of this week are that a rescue team of 2 arrived to attempt to fix the situation at the IHF Center, that Naomi Mwakesege, the Director of the Center, turned on us up on meeting the Rescue Team, and Janika, the third volunteer who had decided to stay at the Center after we left, got kicked out, because she carried information to me about what was happening there and asked the Rescue Team why they were staying at a hotel instead of the Center. All IHF drama aside, the Safari that our host Ivan took us on today will always remain as one of the most pleasurable experiences of my life...Woke up at 5.45am. Left in Ivan's jeep at 6.15am. Destination: Lake Nakuru National Park. Milena and I had been waiting for this for a long time. The entrance fee was $60 for muzungus and there were no student discounts. As we passed through the main gates, the morning sun was rapidly becoming brighter and brighter.After driving through numerous baboons sitting with their red penises sticking out, we reached the muddy shore of the blue and pink Lake Nakuru. Yes, blue and PINK. Hundreds of pink flamingos had formed a pink carpet over the lake, which covered a significant percentage of this placid body of water. I blankly stared at the pink carpet under the early morning sun, for minutes on end.Drove into the savanna where we saw jumpy antelopes, grazing rhinos, feasting hyenas and giraffes running in slow-mo. The view of the park from the tall Baboon Cliff was spectacular. I couldn't get John Williams's Jurassic Park theme out of my mind...I ate a banana, 2 slices of toast, a few biscuits and half a protein bar for breakfast on-the-go.In the middle of the park, there was an air strip for rich safari-lovers. I wonder how they clear the animals before a charter plane lands...When we reached the Southeastern corner of the Lake, we noticed 3 giraffes running in single file. Ivan told us that this scene was unusual. It looked like they were trying to escape from something. We left the designated track and on to rough terrain. Followed the giraffes footsteps in reverse and came across a handsome leopard! Ivan had been to this park dozens of times, but had never seen a leopard before. They are more difficult to spot than lions, because they tend to hide on trees amidst thick branches. Ironically though, we didn't get to see any lions.I should have bought that long lens at Yalcinlar (Turkish chain of photography stores)... It is essential for wildlife photography.When we were driving away from the Park after spending more than 3.5 hours there, I realized that this park had gotten me as excited as Angor Wat in Cambodia or Palmyra in Syria had.Next stop was the Menegai Crater. The only thing that can be said about it is that it was HUGE. However it was far from what the word "crater" had evoked in my mind. There was no water in it, only a dark patch of lava remains, and the surrounding nature was bland.In life, one has to enjoy as many things as possible. Be it speaking articulately, gently pressing down your finger as you are taking a special photograph or just eating. All of these simple things can be carried out with style and hence with pleasure.In town, we had lunch at an Ethiopian restaurant right across from the Merica Hotel. Although the building was well-maintained, the food was below average. No wonder why it wasn't included in the Lonely Planet...Michael the Cab Driver brought us back to Mission in Action (the name of Ivan's orphanage). Milena and I spent a good portion of the early evening transferring photos into each other's memory devices.For dinner, we had instant noodles and buns with marmite (an Australian vegetable-based spread). As we were eating, Martha, one of the managers of Mission in Action, was explaining the developments of the day. A crazy mother was planning to sue the Mission for taking away her child. However, Ivan had all the required legal documents.Internet was down and I was exhausted. Couldn't understand half of Churchill Live (a Saturday Night Live equivalent), as the guy kept switching between English and Swahili.I believe we will bump into the Rescue Team sometime within the next few days. When we do, I will mock them hard, and Naomi will not be spared.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/muratcan/3/1239983160/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/muratcan/3/1239983160/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/muratcan/3/1239983160/tpod.html Fri, 22 May 2009 06:17:18 -0400 Bulletpoints from My Moleskine: Volunteering in Kenya

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Nairobi, Kenya

The major highlight of the past week was that I got kicked out of the Center due to my attempt to get this shoddy orphanage shut down and to get the kids relocated to better homes in the region. An Australian orphanage manager invited Milena and I to his exemplary babies' home. I made my way down to Nairobi yesterday to get advice from a few contacts, regarding the issues at the Center. After having lunch with a prominent lawyer, hopped on a cab to Anne's place where I had spent my first night in Kenya.Theirs is an inter-tribal marriage. Anne is a Kikuyu while her husband is a Luo (Obama's grandfather was a Luo too). Ironically, the main fights during the post-election clashes of early 2008 were between the Luo and the Kikuyu. Anne admits that she needs a drink before she starts speaking about the tumultuous times. "The situation was bad; roads blocked; supplies scarce." she says. "But what could we have done? All our investments are here..."After having a warm shower and a bacon-and-egg breakfast, I arrived at the city center. I couldn't believe my eyes! It was so well-developed; almost like Miami. (I know I have said this before) Decent roads, lush parks and stylish cafes... My driver friend Fred dropped me off at the T that the Kenyatta and Moi Avenues formed. First, I followed the Moi Avenue northwards. Then, made a wide u-turn and arrived at the Indian-style Jamia Mosque where the Friday services were being held. Walked further down south; passed by the space-station-like Kenyatta Conference Center, and arrived at the African-style House of Parliament, which was architecturally disappointing. The guards told me that the Parliament was on recess, but that I could listen in on the debate if I came back on Wednesday. Just like the way they do it in London...Jomo Kenyatta's mausoleum, adjacent to the House of Parliament, was the size of a hut!Ate at a South African pizza chain called Debonair's. Although I paid $20 for 2 small pizzas and a soda, their BBQ chicken pizza was quite good. Wonder why Pizza Hut and McDonald's don't exist here...Next, Fred the Driver dropped me off at the Turkish Embassy to the Northeast of Central Nairobi. Thought that a few more friends would not hurt. Celil Bey, the Third Counsel, was very welcoming. I told him about the situation that I had found myself in. He went as far as giving me advice regarding what could be done and reassured me that the Embassy would intervene in case of any trouble. Then, I asked him a few questions about himself. He had graduated from Bilkent University in Turkey and had taken the Ministry of Foreign Affairs Examination. "The routine is to first send you to a tough country like Kenya." he said. This young man in his mid-30s is hoping to be stationed in a city like Los Angeles next year. His wife is expecting a boy in a few months. I can imagine that they will want to leave this place faster, after they have their baby boy.There were only about 5 Turks and 5 Kenyans working at the Embassy. I also met Isil Hanim, a lower-ranking representative who had sent me numerous helpful emails before my arrival in Kenya. The Ambassador did not have the time to meet with me.The embassy estate was impressive. 4-5 white villas situated in an expansive lawn.Met Anne at a stylish restaurant in Hurlingham called Blanco's. She had had drinks with her mates and was now waiting for me for dinner. On the other hand, her husband was having drinks with his own friends. Such a divide would be unacceptable for many families that I know. How liberal... Anne and I enjoyed a delicious steak dinner, some fruity wine and an intellectual conversation. I took the bill: 2,500 shillings. Had to get my credit card out of my boxers in order to cover this.Anne was the top ranking middle-school student in the country who was discovered by an American tourist and taken to the States to attend Choat Academy.Back at Anne's, we watched a short-documentary about slum-life in the neighboring shanty town of Kibera. Anne's sister who is attending second year at college joined us. I believe I have been occupying the bed that she usually sleeps in. Oops...
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/muratcan/3/1240241100/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/muratcan/3/1240241100/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/muratcan/3/1240241100/tpod.html Fri, 22 May 2009 03:45:15 -0400 Bulletpoints from My Moleskine: Volunteering in Kenya

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Nakuru, Kenya

Did not wake up the boys today. I am no longer a volunteer here, but an idealist gone rogue. There are too many things that are wrong... The local government told us that they would pay us a visit right after Easter to shut down the place because it did not meet government requirements. They were absolutely right. You will understand once you read the orphanage comparison below. However, they were thinking about sending all of the kids back to Pokot, one of the least-developed districts of Kenya where our kids are from. This would be even worse than maintaining the status-quo. With some staff members and the 2 other volunteers, I decided to get our kids relocated to better homes in and around Nakuru. I was fighting on 3 fronts. The local government, the top management of our Center and our older kids who would definitely not support my initiative.Called Ian to see if we could visit his orphanage in the nearby town of Njoro. He gave us the matatu (Kenyan minibus) directions and told us that he would be waiting for us with his van at wherever the matatu would drop us off. The matatu ride took more than half an hour. It was Naomi, Milena (a new volunteer from Serbia) and I in a jamm-packed vehicle. When we finally stepped off, we saw a new van with Ian's name written over it.Ian: over 60; thin; medium height. He has been living in Kenya for 7 years. Initially came here as a medical missionary, but he is not a doctor. Opened his own center 6 years ago. This man has been through a lot to keep his orphanage open. He has been mugged at knife-point multiple times; some Australians have tried to take the orphanage away from him; this is the best one, his host family at the previous orphanage location made him open an orphanage; then, sued him with corruption with hopes that they would retain the land. Ian specializes in disabled kids and HIV-positive ones. He mixes conventional drugs with herbal remedies and religion. On the main gate there was a verse from the Bible. Therefore, I initially got the impression that this place was going to be intensely missionary, but it wasn't. Ian uses religion just like he uses herbal remedies. Holding on to a belief has psychological and hence physiological benefits, I suppose. He was first Catholic. Then, he divorced; parted ways with religion, but felt that something was missing. He returned to Christ in the shape of a missionary. One of his sons died due to a drug over-dose. The others live in Australia and help him out with fund-raising. Ian has put a lot into his center and it certainly has a special vibe.The facilities were decent; nature a beautiful, lush green; kids well-dressed and well-fed; they are so at peace that you don't even notice some of them until they cling on to your hand as you are passing by them.Dorms were clean and well-organized; there were proper toilets with flushes; the fencing met government standards; they served fresh fruit, as Ian though that this was essential for the severely sick. All in contrast to the situation at our center...There were disabled kids of all sorts, but one of them was quite unique. There was a 7-year-old who was raised by baboons! She couldn't speak; had jerky head movements, and hit his palms on the ground, once in a while. I had read of such instances in various publications but to actually meet a specimen...Ian offered us a delicious meal with beans, rice, tomatoes, onions, pears, bananas and pineapple. Although it was completely vegetarian and mostly raw, I loved it.He has been screwed over by a major organization that promised that they would raise money for him via charity concerts, but then pulled back, claiming that the center was too dirty!When I told Ian about our problems, he said that he could take over 3 disabled/HIV-positive kids, if the Children's Department agreed. He also gave us the contact info for 2 other reputable institutions lead by fellow Australians.When we boarded a 14-seater matatu that had 25 passengers on it, I was thinking that I had dreamt of volunteering at a home like Ian's. Suddenly, the matatu stopped; I lost my train of thought. The man and the woman who were standing were slapped around and pulled out of the vehicle. The fat policeman wielding an automatic rifle was furious at the driver for overloading the matatu. I thought that our turn for being slapped would come. It never did...I met my friend from college, Henry at the Midland Hotel where we sat in a spacious terrace, drinking our local Tusker beers. He had put on a bit of weight. After graduation, he had roamed around the East Coast, worked on a web design project from a friend's apartment in New Haven and then returned to Kenya. He was presenting his web project to the client, when he received an interview appointment from Nairobi. Not having been able to see his doctor father who works in Tanzania, Henry returned to Kenya for the asset management interview. That is what he has been doing for the past months. He works from 6am till 9pm. Although he likes the job, he complains a bit about the pay. Business school seems to be the next step for him. He is determined to spend his life in Kenya. However, reverse-adjustment after returning from the States has not been easy.He agreed with me that the political tension in the country was on the rise. When I asked what my exit cue should be "A phone call from me..." he answered.He supported my efforts to force the Center towards change.When Henry dropped me off at the Center in his stick-shift Toyota Corolla and I saw the gates of the orphanage, I realized how good it had been to see a familiar face. Hoping to see more of him in the next few days...
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/muratcan/3/1239218820/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/muratcan/3/1239218820/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/muratcan/3/1239218820/tpod.html Fri, 22 May 2009 03:37:18 -0400 Bulletpoints from My Moleskine: Volunteering in Kenya

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Nakuru, Kenya

I didn't wake up well today. Initially I had a stomach ache which later morphed into a headache. Do not have high fever just yet, but feel that it can happen any minute. It could be malaria; could be something I contracted from the water or anything that I might have gotten from one of the kids. Hope none of these...Followed our pregnant girl, Shayna, to the hair saloon. She was supposed to have stayed with her tribe in Pokot, but she decided to just show up at the Center without prior notice. At the saloon, I told her that I was going to town for a meeting and that I did not want to see her when I return. Gave Kennedy the Nurse 300 shillings just in case she came up with the excuse of not having enough for the bus fare. Felt bad doing this to a pregnant girl, but somebody had to be made into a scapegoat so that this incident did not recur. Shayna is the second case where a boy and a girl living at the Center accidentally have a baby...For the first time, I went to town alone. The first matatus I came across just passed by me because they were full up to the brim. Finally, one stopped in front of the Everready battery factory that is close to the Center. 10 minutes later I was in town. It took another 10 minutes to get my bearings. Then, I quickly walked towards the Advocate's office, which was in the same building as the regional headquarters of USAID.As expected, the Advocate made me wait for an hour. I waited in the compact lounge half watching a pony cartoon, half asleep. When he finally invited me into his office, we started talking about our 2 farmers. He told me to fire them at the end of the month, if the Founder had given permission. He added that we should go to the Chief of Police who was on the International Humanity Foundation's (IHF) advisory board, in case the farmers acted aggressively. About the lawsuit regarding a bunch of previous employees stealing the Founder's money, the Advocate said that the Founder had to write a formal letter to the prosecutor explaining her excuse for not being able to attend the court that was coming up. The Advocate also gave me some lawyering duties like getting certain bits of information regarding the case from the prosecutor. I said I would do it. As a side note, the Advocate knew Ken, my conact in Nairobi who had multiple degrees from the Yale Law School. I had gotten in touch with Ken via email and he had told me that he was involved in IHF's projects. However, he was nowhere in sight. Although we called him on his cell, he didn't pick up. The Advocate's guess was that he was busy playing golf in Nairobi.After I left the Advocate's office, I ate a slice of watermelon on the go. 20 shillings. As I was passing by, noticed that the most Western café in town, Café Guava, is closed on Saturdays.Stopped by our classic internet café, Dream Bay Cyber World. I have decided not to send any documents related to this organization, with my name. In fact, top executives expect me to spend 4 hours per day at an internet café that is subject to an overloaded server and frequent power-cuts, sending out generic emails that ask for money.It is interesting how simple yet challenging environments, like the orphanage I have been living at, make you realize that you had fallen in love. You may not have suspected it even once... One pitch black night, it may come to you as you lye on your creaky bed waiting for a rodent to creep in through your broken window.Didn't feel like eating anything. I think I am simply sick of getting the same food every meal, so I proceeded directly to the Tusky's supermarket to buy 5 liters of drinking water, toast, spread and toilet paper.By the time I returned from town to the Center, our new volunteer Janika had checked in. She is a young physical therapist from Estonia. Has brought medication and inflatable balls for the kids. She has a bad cough and a bit of a fever. Honestly, I wouldn't want to get sick in this kind of an environment...Was glad that the pregnant girl had left. Dealing with her was emotionally draining.Took my tri-daily shower with a bucket of dirty water, my Palmolive liquid soap and a small water bottle.Could not eat more than a few bites of my ugali. Gave the rest to Turu. He immediately gave the half-empty plate to another boy. It's amazing how greedy and destructive these kids are. When he hesitantly brought my plate back, it wasn't properly washed.Helped Arekai, an 8th grader, with Math. His math is unbelievably bad. He cannot even do simple fraction problems, although his teacher had told me that he was one of the best in his class. I guess a part of the issue is that he doesn't understand the question fully, as it is in English. I fail to understand the education system here... How can they teach Math and Science in English without teaching them proper English first?We had our first unofficial supervisors' meeting with our director Naomi, our nurse Kennedy and Janika. Discussed what needed to be announced at the general meeting tomorrow. The chief issue to be handled is of course pregnancy.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/muratcan/3/1237552620/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/muratcan/3/1237552620/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/muratcan/3/1237552620/tpod.html Fri, 22 May 2009 03:31:25 -0400 Bulletpoints from My Moleskine: Volunteering in Kenya

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Nakuru, Kenya

A kid rushed into my room and woke me up at 5.30am. Seeing Naomi's text saying that we were not going to take our blind girl to school, I decided to sleep until 7.30am.There was a 14-year-old mother in the girls' dorm. Her 1-year-old baby was there too. The father had been kicked out of the Center a few months ago.There is one kid who is HIV positive; a significant percentage have runny noses and nasty coughs.In the mornings, kids only have tea, chai as they call it. On Fridays and Mondays, they also get Mandazi (fried dough). Because I had woken up so late, I missed the chai.Naomi took me through the suburb to a school called Muslim Primary. 70 of our kids attend this institution. To get here we followed a wide dirt road with shacks on both sides. The shacks were made with mixed materials, including wood, mud, stone and metal. Muslim Primary was a larger version of the village school I had visited in Bundi, India. The main difference was that the surroundings were greener and there was a tall flag pole right in the center. We walked into the Head Teacher's tiny office. She was a 50ish, chubby lady who had a wise tone of voice. Naomi started complaining about our 2 farmers who had threatened the kids and the guards with violence. In addition, they were stealing bags of supplies and not doing any work. Naomi was afraid that they would actually get violent in case she attempted to fire them. The Head Teacher who suspected that the farmers were illegal aliens from Uganda advised her to take this issue to Juma, our pro-bono advocate. After finishing the Mandazi and chai that the Head Teacher had offered, we took our leave.Next stop was the pre-school, which consisted of 3 huts built side by side. This was very similar to the orphanage scene I had watched in Beng Melea, Cambodia, except that the kids here had uniforms. A 50ish lady and a youngish teacher took care of over 100 kids here. The older mama made me sign her guest book, as it was a government requirement. Impressive professionalism...We briefly returned to the Center for lunch. In consisted of a salty mix of boiled maze and beans called Githeri. Naomi and the kids were spitting out the hard peels. I failed to figure out a way to do that, so I ate them as they came.Took a matatu to the city center where we checked our emails, scanned documents and bought 20 blankets for the kids who had none. I was surprised that she didn't bargain with the wholesaler. Then, we took a tuc tuc (small, 3-wheeled transport, similar the ones found in South Asia) back to the Center.There wasn't much to be done after 4pm. Naomi told me to rest, send in my daily task report to the top management in the USA via the Center's blackberry and distribute the 10 blankets for the boys.Naomi sends a forecasted budget to top management. In return top management asks certain questions and transfers the money via Western Union, if they see fit. The International Humanity Foundation's (IHF) funds come from donations, individual sponsorships and grants.While I am in Kenya, I would like to meet all the alumni that I have gotten to know through the alumni database.There seems to be numerous problems at the Center. One of the major ones is that the Center is not recognized by the government because it does not meet the requirements. The entire facility has to be renovated for a rough cost of $60,000 in order to get a license. The Founder of IHF seems to be resistant about acquiring a license.I am afraid of the 2 farmers whom I haven't even met. I fear that they may barge into my room and rob me, especially if they get fired while I am here.Dinner consisted of Ugali (a maze paste) and broiled cabbage. I learned to eat them with my hands, like everybody else does.What I have enjoyed the most so far is helping the older kids with their math homework. I feel the most useful when I tutor.Now I fully understand Yasar Hoca, my Boarding House Supervisor at high school... It is tough putting the kids to bed, especially the older ones. However, I will not be too harsh on them until they accept me as a part of the tribe...Slept more comfortably than the night before. It's unbelievable how cold it gets towards 5am. Are we not in the Equatorial Zone?When I texted Anne complaining about this place, she told me that I must leave if I feel unsafe and that she may be able to find something for me to do in Nairobi. I'll give IHF a week and then decide. My observations are premature at the moment...
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