Its been awhile

Posted October 21, 2009 by deborachi
Categories: Uncategorized

After about a month of being so busy that I often didn’t have time to do little  things like pluck my eyebrows or staple my homework papers together, I finally feel like things are slowing down a bit. It may not be for long but for now I’m enjoying the extra time to think and meditate.

I meditate best when I’m jogging and listening to cheesy pop songs, and today while I was jogging I realized something that I think is pretty exciting but it may cause me to drop out of school soon. I’m just kidding really but you’ll see what I mean.

The more college classes I take, especially anthropology  and development studies classes, the more I realize that nothing in life is certain. Everything is relative and the good-versus-bad thing doesn’t exist. For example, electricity is pretty awesome and I don’t think anyone would argue that. But if electricity is introduced into a rural village by an electrical company that is so interested in making a profit that it neglects to make sure that its electrical system  is environmentally friendly and sustainable, then the village may suffer from pollution and disease, drought, and famine. A murderer sucks but if the murderer is so poor he never went to school and he was raised by an abusive, alcoholic parent, then can we really blame the murderer for been screwed up? And if we choose to blame his government for not providing him with free education and not protecting him from his parents, then we must also blame those who elected the government. But what if the people who voted were brainwashed by the media? I could keep going but instead I’ll go onto a more exciting example…pimples! Pimples are gross, pussy, painful, and most of all ugly. But at least for me pimples are a great reminder that I should take care of myself better and eat less junk. Whenever I see a ragging pimple party getting started on my face, I reassess my health, try to get more sleep, and try to eat less chocolate, coffee, and sweets.

So I should get to the point. The fact that life is relative, complicated, and far from black and white makes me depressed sometimes. I get depressed because it makes me feel like anything I do to try to help humanity and make the world better will not make much of a difference it the large scheme of things. In fact, not only could my efforts not change much but they could also be harmful. I could spend eight years studying to become a doctor but end up prescribing a dangerous medication unnecessarily because I was misinformed about its effectiveness and the severity of its side affects. Or I could start a famine-relief non-profit organization but end up giving so much food to people that they become dependent on my organization and, generations down the line, forget how to produce their own food.

Now I realize that there is no need to ever be depressed! What all this means is that all I can do is try my best and focus on the one thing I know will always produce positive results: loving people. I don’t need to go to school to know how to love and I don’t even need to exert much effort. This is an example of how sometimes things get so complicated that they go back to being simple.

Maybe its easy to be happy everywhere

Posted September 18, 2009 by deborachi
Categories: Uncategorized

When I was living a rural village on the coast of Kenya, I wrote a blog entry called “Its easy to be happy in Africa.” You should read it if you haven’t but basically I talked about how the beauty of my surroundings, the peaceful and friendly people I was around, and the simplicity of my life made it so much easier for me to be happy there than it normally is in the US. I honestly thought, as I was writing that entry, that coming back to the US was going to be very difficult. I would miss the ocean, the bright starts at night, the friendly, loving people, and because of this I would be unhappy, at least at first. But I haven’t been unhappy.  I did have a couple of emotional breakdowns shortly after I came back but, in general, I think I’ve been happier the last few months than I have been since I moved to the US when I was eleven. Even now that I’m back in school and I’m sleep-deprived and my days are incredibly busy, I find myself enjoying each pleasant moment, like when I’m walking from one class to another and the sun is shining on my face, I run into a friend and say hi, I sit around in apartment eating cookies and talking to my roommates, or when one of my teachers shares something he or she is really excited about. This may sound kind of cheesy to some of you but I mean it, and I think I figured out at least one reason why I’ve been so happy. The experiences I had in Kenya, the things I saw, the people I became close to, the goats, the skin infections, the smells, the music, the food–everything was so different that I was inspired, and in some ways forced, to get out of my head and pay more attention to my surroundings. Things were so unusual and interesting to me that I didn’t want to miss out on anything and, therefore, tried hard not to distract myself with needless worries, day dreams, or thoughts of the future. Some of that newly-found awareness has carried over and, even though things here are not unique to my eyes, they often seem just as interesting. And I don’t know if I’ll be able to explain this, but I think that the more I am aware of my surroundings and appreciate them, the less I feel like I’m in them and entrapped by them. Its almost like I’m not really where I am and because of that I am also in Kenya and in other places that I have lived in, love, and miss a lot, like Brazil and Northern Ireland. Its like I live more on Earth and less in Amherst, Massachusetts.

Anyways, I don’t usually write about abstract things like this but for some reason I was inspired to today. So, thanks for reading this, though it may have been a little weird :)

The Adventures of Julia Gulia, Apu, GSteezie, and Me (Part II)

Posted September 13, 2009 by deborachi
Categories: Uncategorized

If you haven’t read part I, scroll down and read that first :)

Julia Gulia, Apu, GSteezie, and Debbie were very tired from the adventures they had the day before- traveling to AfricIMG_3948a, hiking the devil’s home, climbing through windows, and jumping onto moving trains. So on their second morning together they all slept until quite late. When they finally woke up, Debbie drove them yet again to East Africa! But this time, they went to Congo instead of Burundi, and visited a nice woman and her two incredibly beautiful children. While Apu and GSteezie spoke to the mother in a mix of Kiswahili, French, and English, Julia Gulia and Debbie took the children outside, and they prophesied that someday Rachel, the little baby girl, would be Miss Universe because she was already, without a doubt, the cutest baby in the world. They all sang, prayed, and ate corn together, but soon it was time to go.

The four friends drove out of Africa and then made their way to a bridge. It had always been Debbie’s dream to jump off IMG_3968that bridge into the lake beneath it, and now she had friends to accompany her. But looking down at the lake from the bridge, she and her three friends were overcome by fear. Yet somehow Apu, GSteezie, and Debbie finally managed to climb over the railing and stand at the edge and got ready to jump. A minute passed and they still hadn’t jumped…then another went by…then five more…and then after almost twenty minutes of painful anticipation Gsteezie jumped off followed immediately by Apu. Everyone watching cheered! Debbie meant to jump off too but somehow couldn’t find the courage, and even after almost an hour of trying, with kind and encouraging words from her friends and from strangers passing by, she still couldn’t do it. Though she felt a bit sad, she was happy for GSteezie and Apu, and she knows that someday, when the time is right, she will jump.

Next, they all headed back to Debbie’s home to eat pizza, pray, and talk with three of Debbie’s Baha’i friends from IMG_3334Vermont. They had a great time but soon it became late and only Julia Gulia, Apu, GSteezie, and Debbie were up, wondering what to do on their last night together. The moon was full and the air was fresh so they couldn’t think of anything better to than to go to the beach and sit by a fire. Late into the night and early morning, the four friends sat around a small fire having deep conversations (and some shallow ones too), admiring the moonlight, eating leftover pizza, and, most of all, enjoying each other’s company.

The next morning they shared one last meal together at a Chinese buffet restaurant, found a tree to sit under in the middle of a random forest by the restaurant, and then said their goodbyes. Though their time in Vermont was sadly over, they knew their adventures together weren’t and this made saying goodbye easier.  Someday I will write more about Julia Gulia, Apu, GSteezie, and Debbie’s adventures, but for now…

The End

Wait! One more thing. Here are two poems GSteezie and Debbie wrote about their time together:

Vermont
a place i’de never been b4
my spirt
lifted to the
millionth floor
i should tell u more

Debbie cooked me food
cuz me gets hungry
Visited my friends
from another
country
it was lovley
hiking in the hillz
of vermont
was something
hard to forget
i’m not gon’ forget
the love
she showed
on behalf
of her friends
Julia Adib,
And G’Steez
You see
I jumped a bridge
and she jumped’
started my mind, once again
Convo’s about life
shoulda let
Julia Win
Just
Kid’id’din
Hah!
Teaching the Faith Of Baha
always brings joy
and a tickle to heart
listen to me Bruh
Vermont
is not
just for gay marriage
my prejudice
demolished
My Love grew More
for these dwellers
of the mountains
Friendships got stronger
some just got started
I’m feeling this spark
like flint
and a rocket
Adib you my Boi
my Cuz, and my Brother
let em all know
how we feeling ..B!
but not too
flagrantly
I’m Just
Playing
But Shoot
Will We Ever
Meet again?
Yo!
I Sure Hope
Debora
You know
You are sweeter
then a Nerds Rope
Julia
My Dear
your da Mainer
Of Da Year
Adib
you better be
making beats in your sleep
LOVE, Respect, and Honor
Sent from Me
your Honorary Beast
lol
Ya Boi Yung Steeez
Peace
ha
Peace

~GSteezie

Thanks G-Steezie
for inspiring meezie
to write words that just flow
from my skull to my scroll

Adib joon
I’ll see you so soon
and for that I am glad
for sure the opposite of sad

Julia soul sister
better than any mister
A kind word from your mouth
is sweeter than corn down south

US, Brazil, TZ, and Haiti
They’re all the same
Not lame
No games
Some pains
Much rain

So these words may be silly
but my love for you is not
Thanks again my dear friends
for visiting me in Vermont

~Debbie

TIA

Posted September 10, 2009 by deborachi
Categories: Uncategorized

I came across this in a book I’m reading for a class I’m taking at Smith College and I think it’s one of the best descriptions of Africa I’ve read in a while.

“Ways of life, even within the same country, vary dramatically. Some people may be employed in offices, work in skyscrapers, buy their clothes in department stores, drive automobiles, and own refrigerators and television sets; others may seldom visit cities, live in rural communities, walk miles in the dry season to fetch water, and grow their own food, which they cook over wood fires. At the same time, those who live in the citites may have numbers of their extended family living with them, seek out traditional healers when they are sick, and participate in centuries-old festivals, while those who live in rural areas may listen to transistor radios, buy Coca-Cola at local cafes, and welcome a daughter or son back from graduate studies overseas” ~Phyllis M. Martin and Patrick O’Meara (Africa, Third Edition)

Part 2 of the story below is coming very soon…I promise.

The Adventures of Julia Gulia, Apu, GSteezie, and Me (Part I)

Posted September 7, 2009 by deborachi
Categories: Uncategorized

Once upon a time, in a green, mountainous land far far away, a girl named Debbie was sitting alone on a beauIMG_3928tiful beach at sunset. As she ran her fingers through the sand and admired the mountains across the ocean-like lake she thought to herself, “I must invite some of my friends to visit me. I must share this beauty with them.” So she made a few phone calls, sent a few facebook messages, and then awaited the special day when her friends Julia Gulia, Apu, and GSteezie would join her on that very beach. Little did she know that she was about to embark one of her life’s craziest adventures.

A few weeks later, Debbie’s three friends drove over mountains, through valleys, and across many rivers before finally reaching their destination: Debbie’s home, known by most as Vermont. Although quite different- Julia Gulia an American who has lived in Maine all her life, Apu a Persian from Haiti, GSteezie a half-Tanzanian-half-American from New York City, and Debbie a Brazilian American- they got along great from the start, united by their common Faith and their love for nature and adventure.

Their adventures started their first night together after a large African dinner. Debbie led everyone to a park by the lake and, to their surprise, they discovered a huge abandoned canon. They climbed it pretending to be American soldiers from the 1800’s and sadly thought about what that canon may have been used for.

The next day they got in Debbie’s car and in five minutes were in East Africa! Don’t ask me how they managed to go from Vermont to East Africa that fast, but just know that its true. In Little Africa they met with a family from Burundi and GSteezie spoke to the adults in Kiswahili and Julia Gulia, Apu, and Debbie played with the children outside. They all enjoyed butter milk and mandazi before returning to Vermont to go on a hike.

The moIMG_3880untain they climbed is called Mt. Philo and it is home to the most evil being in the universe- the devil himself! It is beautiful from the outside but inside lives the spirit of the devil, which comes out every night to sit on its chair on the side of the mountain facing the lake. The four friends sat of his chair- a huge rock formation- and although a bit scared, they felt safe in each other’s company and in the company of forest’s beautiful trees and animals. Had they paid a little more attention, however, they would have noticed that it was the devil and not a wasp that bit Julia Gulia on the wrist- a bite so painful that the poor Julia Gulia feared her end was near. Thankfully she was wrong and did not die.

Debbie and her friends watched the sun set over the lake after the hike and after dinner they sat around chatting. That is until they decided to pray outside but didn’t realize the door was locked when they left the house. Just as Julia Gulia wasIMG_3926 about to ring the doorbell to wake up Debbie’s mom and everyone, of course, was fearing the scolding they would get for waking Debbie’s mom at such an unimaginable hour, GSteezie yelled, “Stop!” Then without much thought he climbed onto the porch railing, jumped on the roof, crawled to Debbie’s bedroom window, and snuk into the house. Everyone cheered and let out a sigh of relief for not having to wake up Debbie’s mom. Their adventures weren’t over yet, however, because on their way to the lake to say prayers, they rode on a rickshaw (bike taxi), jumped onto a moving train, peed in bushes, and sang songs so loud that anyone could hear (if everyone had been awake, that is).

To be continued…

Is cooking my career?

Posted August 25, 2009 by deborachi
Categories: Uncategorized

When I was about 12 years old I loved baking and cooking and was sure that someday I’d own my our restaurant or bakery. But the older I got and the less time I had to cook, the more I forgot about that dream. For a while I thought I was going to be a doctor and now I’m almost 100% set on becoming a midwife. But for the last three summers since I’ve been in college I have, without really wanting or trying, somehow ended up working as a cook. The first two years I was an assistant and this summer I’m a head lunch cook. Its nice to get paid to cook- there are worse things I could be doing for money- but I can’t really say I enjoy going to work or envision myself cooking for a living the rest of my life. Sometimes, especially after someone says somethings like, “the soup you made was one of the best things I’ve ever eaten,” I think that maybe I’m meant to be a cook. Perhaps its God’s will and I’m just being stubborn because I’d rather not carry heavy pots and burn myself all the time. Maybe I have to keep cooking because my food makes people happy and making others happy the only thing that really matters. Maybe, but I don’t think so. Its more simple than that- my food makes people happy because food always makes people happy and that doesn’t mean I should force myself into a career I don’t want and don’t need to have. Silly me. Sometimes I definitely over-think things.

In the kitchen of a cave house in Granada, Spain.

In the kitchen of a cave house in Granada, Spain.

Running is my remedy

Posted August 22, 2009 by deborachi
Categories: Uncategorized

I want explain quickly why I renamed my blog to “Life is Simple.” I don’t actually believe life is simple- it’s too full of challenges, surprises, ironies, expectations, injustices and broken hearts to be simple. But, I do think it has the potential to be simple if we are able to constantly and continuously remind ourselves of our true purpose- to know and love God- and are able to take pleasure in little things. I’m hoping this blog will help me simplify my life.

I go running as often as I can and I love it. But normally when I run I get a little too wrapped up in my thoughts and forget to look around and enjoy what I see. So the other day I decided to pay more attention and I took some pictures:

Welcome to my renewed blog!

Posted August 21, 2009 by deborachi
Categories: Uncategorized

Dear friends, I finally came up with a new title and design for my blog since I can’t keep on pretending that I’m still in Kenya. And, just because I’m not it Kenya, it doesn’t mean I can write, right? Hope that you enjoy my future posts and please leave me comments if you have any. I love comments and I promise that I will reply as much as I can, now that I have access to high-speed internet. Thank you for reading. Much love!

I am not in Kenya :(

Posted August 16, 2009 by deborachi
Categories: Uncategorized

So maybe i should change the name of my blog to something other then “Debora in Kenya,” but for now it will do because I haven’t thought of a good alternative.

I wasn’t really planning on blogging after I got back from Kenya but yesterday it hit me as I was driving through a huge corn field with cows and green mountains in the background somewhere in the middle of nowhere in Vermont that I have just as many thoughts about my life here as I did about my life in Kenya. They may not be as interesting but they could be worth sharing… at least sometimes.

Everyone always says that the worse kind of culture shock is not the kind you experience when you first arrive in a new country but the kind you experience when you go back home after being away for a long time. Some people call it reverse culture shock. My reverse culture shock was not as bad as I expected or as bad as its been in the past, like when I came back from Costa Rica and the Baha’i Holy Land in Israel. I’m not sure why but I’m sure it has something to do with the fact that I was almost always around other Americans when I was in Kenya. Anyways, I do have a funny reverse culture shock story I love telling people when they ask me what it was like to come back to the States after being in Africa for four months.

The story is actually set in London and it starts the moment I got off the plane that flew me out of Kenya and across Northern Africa and Europe. I had a 24 hour layover in London and I decided the first thing I should do is persuade someone from the Virgin Atlantic ticket counter to give me a hotel voucher so that I wouldn’t have to sleep alone in the airport with my two huge, muddy, stinky bags. Even though other airlines sometimes do this, the lady I talked to said, “I’m sorry miss but we can only give vouchers in the event of a delay or flight cancellation.” Overwhelmed by the lady’s extremely direct and professional response and by the enormous amount of white skin and straight hair surrounding me on all sides, I walked to the hotel reservation counter that another lady directed me to and, without thinking, gave my credit card to the receptionist and said I wanted a hotel room as close to the airport as possible. I also said I wanted it to be cheap, although I was sure that since the four-star resort I stayed in for a few days in Kenya was only $40/night, a simple airport hotel in London would not be so bad. “There are ten hotels nearby with rooms available but the  cheapest there is tonight is 130 pounds (about $215). Is this okay?,” asked the receptionist. I was shocked and didn’t know what to do or say so I just said yes. The lady continued and said, “There is a shuttle bus that will get you to the hotel in less than five minutes and will cost you 4 pounds ($6.60) each way so your total is 138 pounds (almost $230).” I paid and started walking towards the bus station but before I reached my shuttle it hit me- I had just spend $215 dollars on a hotel room when the night before in Nairobi I stayed in a $10 dollar hostel, and I paid $6.60 for a five minute bus ride when in Kenya that money could have taken me half-way across the country. Guilty, alone, and broke, I pushed by bags towards a bench and sat, trying to make some sense of what just happened. A few minutes later I decided to call my mom to tell her I had arrived safely in London and to ask her what I should do. But the pay phone said it would cost me almost 5 pounds for a five minute phone call and I only had a 2 pound coin leftover from when I visited England on my way to Kenya. I hung up the phone forcefully and just then I heard a voice behind me ask, “Are you okay miss?” I turned around and saw a tall, handsome, young Indian man. It was Jamal from Slumdog Millionare and he had come to rescue me and take me away to India, faraway from professionalism, whiteness, and expensive hotel rooms! Just kidding, but that thought actually did cross my mind since I had just finished watching Slumdog on the plane. The man smiled at me and then, trying hard not to cry, I shamelessly told him why I was upset. He looked at me sympathetically then said, “Yes, I work at the hotel reservation counter and saw you book the hotel room. Unfortunately we can’t refund your reservation but don’t worry. The hotel is nice and you’ll be safe and comfortable. Here, let me take your bags and walk you to your shuttle.” I felt better and smiled at my Indian prince as he waved good-bye. But for the rest of the day I couldn’t stop thinking about how ironic it is that while in Kenya I had watch out for pickpocketers and thieves, in the US, like the UK, I have to watch out for myself. Its hard to stop yourself from spending money when you live in a place where the choices are endless, sellers are friendly and efficient, you don’t have to bargain, and you don’t even have to count cash.

Old Town

Posted May 8, 2009 by deborachi
Categories: Uncategorized

I’ve been living in a neighborhood called Old Town for the last two weeks. Old Town is in Mombasa, the second largest city in Kenya. When I first got here, I thought it was okay. I loved swimming in the ocean and tanning on my roof but mostly I missed the peace and tranquility I felt in Bodo, the rural village I did my research project in. But I’m starting to like it more and more hear and I really think that I would like to come back to Mombasa some day and live in a little house on the waterfront somewhere in Old Town.

 

Old Town reminds me so much of the Arabic neighborhoods in Haifa, Israel. There are cats everywhere (which thankfully people treat pretty well and, therefore, are actually cute). Also, the streets are narrow with tall walls on either side, women cover their whole body and sometimes even their face with long black robes and scarves, the men wear long white robes on Fridays, I hear the call to prayer five times a day, its always hot and sunny because if it rains, its always at night, old men sell cups of delicious spicy, milky tea or gingery coffee on the side of the road every evening, you can get a chicken shwarma whenever you want, and, best of all, everyone knows each other. I’ve only been here a week and a half and when I walk down the street many people greet me by name. One old man who lives near the hostel I’m staying and who sells souvenirs to tourists, stops me every time I pass him. He shakes my hands, asks me about my day, and then, of course, asks if I have any money on me so that I can buy something from him. But when I say no he just smiles and nods and say, “Come back tomorrow.” He also always asks about one of the other students who he claims to be in love with. The things he’s done and said to her are really funny but I’m going to save this and write about it later when I can post a picture I took of him with her today. It is the cutest, most hilarious thing in the world.

 

One man who stopped to greet me yesterday shook my hand and then said, “Debbie, I’ve been waiting for your phone call. Why haven’t you called?” I mumbled something, smiled, said good-bye quickly, and hurried off because I am almost sure that I had never seen him before and have no idea how he knew my name or why he was waiting for my phone call. I have a bad memory sometimes but I don’t think it’s that bad, or at least I hope not. Anyway, it was pretty funny.

 

Almost everyday something interesting happens and I think to myself- I should write about this in my blog. But somehow when I actually sit down to write I don’t remember anything. But the good news is that I am finished with my research project and, at this very moment, my forty page write up is being bound. I am so happy and excited I feel like its one of the best things I’ve written since I actually chose exactly what I wanted to study, therefore, loved it.

 

Oh, I just remembered something that happened two nights ago. Two of my friends and I went out to get chicken shwarmas for dinner. I decided I also wanted some juice but the shwarma guys—about ten men who all wear bright orange shirts and stand around selling shwarmas all day—didn’t have any. So I went to a little restaurant a few stores down and asked for some mango, pineapple, orange, and passion fruit juice. I asked if I could have it to go and then he said, “Are you just eating over there?” pointing to the shwarma place. I said yes and then he said, “There’s no problem. You can just go there an wait and I will bring it to you.” A few minutes latter he brought the juice and as I started to pull out my money he said, “Its okay. Just pay one of those guys,” pointing to the crowd of men in orange shirts behind me. I guess the two restaurants are somehow connected, which makes sense since so many people here are related. But at that moment I couldn’t help but laugh and say to myself—only in Kenya. To make our night even better, one of the guys in the orange shirts asked us how the movie we watched the night before was. Apparently he had heard that we went from someone who had seen us walking down the street and asked us where we were going. Its so nice to live in a place where you feel like people are looking at for you and care enough to ask you how the movie you watched the night before was.