When Daniel and I first began planning our trip to Kenya, we decided we wanted to experience what it was like to live in one of the local villages. To our surprise, our Kenyan friend Maureen and her incredibly loving family invited us to live with them in their home in Webuye for three days. Not only that, Mauren was absolutely amazing with helping us plan our trip, from the flights we should take, to the schedule of everything we'd do during our time in Kenya.
Daniel and I first landed in Doha, Qatar after leaving Dubai, and from there, we flew to Nairobi, Kenya. To get to the village, we then took a smaller plane from Nairobi to Eldoret. Maureen and her mom, Nancy, were waiting for us at the airport, and excitedly welcomed us with hugs. Nancy immediately grabbed my hand and held me close all the way to the car. By this time, it was dark, and we had a long drive ahead of us to the village. We ended up falling asleep on the car ride, and it felt like we were driving for hours when we finally reached their home. We pulled up in a grassy alley in between rows of homes and were outside of a tall cement wall with glass shards embedded all along the top. This is to keep out animals and people wanting to do them harm. Maureen's brother Luke, who was referred to as "Master" (pronounced Masta) opened their front iron gate and let us into the yard. They led us into their cozy home, and to the bedroom they had set up for us. "Karibu!" Nancy kept saying as she motioned for us to sit down, which means "Welcome!" in Swahili. We sat up and talked for a little while, and then said goodnight. The beds are covered with nets to keep out any bugs that might fly in during the night (pictured below).
Daniel and I first landed in Doha, Qatar after leaving Dubai, and from there, we flew to Nairobi, Kenya. To get to the village, we then took a smaller plane from Nairobi to Eldoret. Maureen and her mom, Nancy, were waiting for us at the airport, and excitedly welcomed us with hugs. Nancy immediately grabbed my hand and held me close all the way to the car. By this time, it was dark, and we had a long drive ahead of us to the village. We ended up falling asleep on the car ride, and it felt like we were driving for hours when we finally reached their home. We pulled up in a grassy alley in between rows of homes and were outside of a tall cement wall with glass shards embedded all along the top. This is to keep out animals and people wanting to do them harm. Maureen's brother Luke, who was referred to as "Master" (pronounced Masta) opened their front iron gate and let us into the yard. They led us into their cozy home, and to the bedroom they had set up for us. "Karibu!" Nancy kept saying as she motioned for us to sit down, which means "Welcome!" in Swahili. We sat up and talked for a little while, and then said goodnight. The beds are covered with nets to keep out any bugs that might fly in during the night (pictured below).
The next morning, we woke up to the sound of chickens and cows outside, a dog barking, motorbikes zipping throughout the village, and people talking. The day had begun. Daniel and I excitedly emerged from our room to meet up with everyone, and could see what everything looked like in the daylight. Through the window shutters I could see their garden, and Nancy walking by. There was a brick shed next to the garden where the family plans to keep chickens, and their guard dog was tied up by it. A lot of what they ate came from their garden, and what they didn't grow could be found at the village people's food stands at the market on the village's main street. Maureen's family would frequently walk up the road to go find certain produce or vegetables that people would be selling.
Nancy had house slippers waiting for us to wear as we came out of our room, and Maureen had a Kanga waiting for me (pictured below). It is a printed cotton wrap that you tie around your waist. I had worn running shorts and a t-shirt to bed, but Maureen explained that it was a little more conservative in the village, so it would be best to cover my legs to avoid stares. She took us around their yard, pointing out the well they got all of their water from, telling us what each one of their plants would grow, and then showed us how they heat the water for cooking and for bathing. Nancy already had some water heating up outside for us in their cooking pot. Their house had no running water, so to bathe, they took the large pot of water after it had gotten hot, and brought it inside to their shower stall. It was a small room with a drain in the floor, and a door for privacy. This was my first time ever taking a shower this way, and I was excited to do as the locals did! They sat the pot of water on a stool, and had a pitcher in the pot so you could pour the water over you. After you had scrubbed with soap and shampooed your hair, you just poured the water over you in spurts to rinse everything, but had to make sure you were conservative so you had enough water to last your entire shower.
Nancy had house slippers waiting for us to wear as we came out of our room, and Maureen had a Kanga waiting for me (pictured below). It is a printed cotton wrap that you tie around your waist. I had worn running shorts and a t-shirt to bed, but Maureen explained that it was a little more conservative in the village, so it would be best to cover my legs to avoid stares. She took us around their yard, pointing out the well they got all of their water from, telling us what each one of their plants would grow, and then showed us how they heat the water for cooking and for bathing. Nancy already had some water heating up outside for us in their cooking pot. Their house had no running water, so to bathe, they took the large pot of water after it had gotten hot, and brought it inside to their shower stall. It was a small room with a drain in the floor, and a door for privacy. This was my first time ever taking a shower this way, and I was excited to do as the locals did! They sat the pot of water on a stool, and had a pitcher in the pot so you could pour the water over you. After you had scrubbed with soap and shampooed your hair, you just poured the water over you in spurts to rinse everything, but had to make sure you were conservative so you had enough water to last your entire shower.
One of the things I am most eager to learn about when I visit a new place, is how they do everyday tasks, especially cooking. One morning, Nancy was preparing some breakfast for us, so I stepped in the kitchen to ask if I could watch the process, and snap a few pictures. She excitedly showed me how she cooked over the cooking pot, and told me what each of the different pots were used for, along with showing me the different types of vegetables she had. Watching her happily prepare breakfast, I stopped and thought about the beautiful simplicity of this lifestyle, and how resourceful they were. Nothing was wasted, and they were so eager to share what they did have with us, as well as let us join in on their cultural traditions.
One afternoon, we decided to take a walk through the village, check out the market, and see the area. As we walked through the main street, we saw that the village was buzzing with people doing their daily shopping. Vendors had been set up one after another, on each side of the road, selling vegetables, fruits, nuts, roasted maize, fish, and items they had made. A little boy came up to us selling oranges out of a wheelbarrow, as many other children were out selling things to eat. A woman selling fried fish let us snap a picture as she continued to cook. Maureen and I stopped by a vegetable stand and got huge stocks of greens for that night's dinner. Being the only white people in the whole village, we got a lot of stares, and heard "Mzungu!" shouted out a lot, which is the Swahili word for "white person". Little ones would yell that and point to us, and so we'd smile at them and wave. They would giggle and run off. But the experience that stuck with me the most during that walk happened not long after our walk had just begun. We were coming up the road at the start of the market area, and we were excitedly taking in what we were seeing. I had my camera hanging around my neck, and decided to take a picture of this woman cooking whole fish over an open fire. It was just such a neat sight to me, but she saw me take the picture and immediately yelled at me. I knew what I had done wrong, and felt remorseful. The guy who was standing with her asked me to please delete the picture, and so I did and apologized. From that moment on, I reminded myself that these people were just living their lives, and perhaps didn't want their lifestyle to be sympathized over, or didn't want to give their image away. I'm not sure of the reason, but I thought about how I would surely be alarmed if someone just randomly took my picture. So, I reminded myself to show respect, and ask before I photographed another person.
One afternoon, we decided to take a walk through the village, check out the market, and see the area. As we walked through the main street, we saw that the village was buzzing with people doing their daily shopping. Vendors had been set up one after another, on each side of the road, selling vegetables, fruits, nuts, roasted maize, fish, and items they had made. A little boy came up to us selling oranges out of a wheelbarrow, as many other children were out selling things to eat. A woman selling fried fish let us snap a picture as she continued to cook. Maureen and I stopped by a vegetable stand and got huge stocks of greens for that night's dinner. Being the only white people in the whole village, we got a lot of stares, and heard "Mzungu!" shouted out a lot, which is the Swahili word for "white person". Little ones would yell that and point to us, and so we'd smile at them and wave. They would giggle and run off. But the experience that stuck with me the most during that walk happened not long after our walk had just begun. We were coming up the road at the start of the market area, and we were excitedly taking in what we were seeing. I had my camera hanging around my neck, and decided to take a picture of this woman cooking whole fish over an open fire. It was just such a neat sight to me, but she saw me take the picture and immediately yelled at me. I knew what I had done wrong, and felt remorseful. The guy who was standing with her asked me to please delete the picture, and so I did and apologized. From that moment on, I reminded myself that these people were just living their lives, and perhaps didn't want their lifestyle to be sympathized over, or didn't want to give their image away. I'm not sure of the reason, but I thought about how I would surely be alarmed if someone just randomly took my picture. So, I reminded myself to show respect, and ask before I photographed another person.
After our walk through the village, Maureen and some family decided to drive us up the mountain to a nearby waterfall for some hiking. The greenery and beauty of this place was so refreshing. While climbing the rocks and looking out over the vastness of the hills, and the violently rushing water, I felt very thankful for these new friends and how they welcomed us into their home and village. They showed us abundant love, and treated us like family, sharing what they had, and excitedly letting us join in on how they do life. It was so nice to be brought back to a simple way of living, helping us realize how much we truly take for granted. Even now, months later, we are incredibly grateful to have been able to experience such beauty, and the Kenyan culture.