Into the Bush

After waiting two hours for a visa and a harrowing 45 minute car ride later I finally got to sleep in a small village on the outskirts of Nairobi at midnight. I woke the next morning, Friday, at 7am and then took a "mutatu" or taxi back into the city so I could get another, more vibrantly decorated one, out to the Village. What they don't tell you is that the converted van only leaves when full. Finally we hit the road, with a chicken at my feet, and begin the four hour drive. There are potholes, cattle, construction and bikers everywhere as the driver goes as fast as the engine will let him. I sit cramped in the middle with my head banging against the roof praying that we don't flip or go head on with one of the many 18-wheelers. When I get off at my stop I jump onto the back of a "boda-boda" or motorcycle for a 14 kilometer ride through the bush to the Village, no helmet of course.
Upon arrival I have lunch and get the tour until 4pm when it is football(or soccer) time. Playing with the kids on the dirt practice field with small stumps, roots and rocks is where I am at peace. Nothing matters as long as the ball of plastic bags and rope doesn't go in my goal. After scoring the first goal and falling in the process Africa leaves it first scar, a nice gash in the palm of my hand. This perfomance leads to my call up to the village squad for Sunday's intensley anticipated match with a rival tribe.
For Saturday, the day volunteers not in the soccer game rest we hitched a ride the in the back or a truck to Kwa-Vonza, the closest town. There we purchased beers, at 10am and hiked the hill top for a view of the surrounding area. After taking in the sun and downing the cerveza we carefully walked back to the bar and returned the bottles. Lunch was the equvalent to tortillas and salsa, Kenyan style, and more beer. A day of relaxtion ended with another bumpy ride back the village in the back the truck.
Sunday, game day. We play a full 90 minute game, me anchoring the defence with a fellow "mazunga" or white person, Dylan from Australia and the third, Spencer from Conneticut, playing forward. After each goal the crowd rushed onto the field and piled upon the players. When the final whistle blows we win 3-0 with a goal by Spencer and two from the kid named "Disater". He got his name because he time he shoots he says "disaster" and scores. I had survived the rocks that tripped Spencer and landed him on his back, the root that fell Dylan on his face and the bush that still grows on the field along the sidelines. To the locals we were heros, we/they had won the rivalary. We were congratulated by all and a new level of respect was bestowed upon us.
I woke up this morning to take my malaria pill and felt the aches of yesterday's grueling match. At breakfast I felt the respect, pats on the back as they walked by my table.

I will add pictures as soon as possible.

Off to Africa

The day has finally come for me to board the plane and head south for several months of work and leisure. A 6:00am flight tomorrow and thirteen hours later I will arrive in Nairobi, Kenya for two weeks of volunteer work at the Nyumbani Children's Home, http://www.nyumbani.org/. From there, myself and two other team members are off to our project site in Same, Tanzania by way of an all day bus ride. After a month of research for the Same Polytechnic College Project, http://www.samepolytechnic.org/, I will begin making my way to Port Elizabeth, South Africa. How or where I go in between is unknown and all that I have is a backpack, a guide book and a smile.