Attaining Closure

A picture with my 'wamama wa soko' in front of the new market shade constructed by the government. I love chatting with these women each evening. They have taken to calling me their son, 'mtoto wetu!' The mama directly in front of me is holding up the gift that she insisted I bring back to my mother in America, 'omena'. 'Omena' are small, sun-dried fish which the locals fry or boil to eat with ugali. We'll have to see how much stench emanates from my luggage and whether they'll allow them on the plane home.

Leaving site this time around has been much less emotional. In Mali, I went to bed one night knowing I still had 5 solid months in Makili, only to wake up the next day knowing that I'd be gone in a matter of days. Thankfully, this time around here in Kenya, I've been able to instead close out my service on my own terms.

I have known that my last day of service would be June 28th, meaning that I would have to leave site on the 26th. I have been able to not only prepare my friends and colleagues for my imminent departure, but also my own state-of-mind.

My relative lack of emotion this time around betrays the fact that I feel just as close to Budalang'i as I did to Makili. The difference simply owes itself to preparation.

Mumbaya Youth Group and my host family, that of 'mzee' John Mango, both threw me small going-away parties. More surprisingly, my host organization which I have not been working with, decided to do so as well. These gatherings meant a lot to me, showing that my work has been appreciated. But beyond these brief gatherings, I have more-so appreciated the simple opportunity to continue life as part of the 'wanyala' community right until the end, spending more time with the people that have made this experience so special.

And that is what this post is about, just a handful of the many people who have made ten months go by so quickly:

My friend Esyli (right) gave himself the name Kuchaba, which in the local language basically means a lunatic or prankster. He lives up to the name with his humor and crazy antics. His sidekick, Engira (left), affectionately known as 'Eggo', is a shy, soft-spoken young man who has some sort of mental disability. Kuchaba pays him to help out at his business.

When needed, he calls out 'Ehhhhgggggoooooooo' in a drawn-out, deep voice reserved only for their personal interactions. He struts, swaggers side-to-side, gives off guttural laughs, and 'Eggo' responds thoroughly amused, copying Kuchaba's every move.

Kuchaba will call out a passerby's name, start playfully touching and kicking him, and 'Eggo' joins in. It is only Kuchaba that can get him to come out of his shell. It is damn entertaining to watch.

I frequently chat with Joseph and Gabe (rear), who each run a 'kinyozi' (barber shop) at opposite ends of this mud building. Dan (right) sells 'mafuta ya taa' (kerosene for lanterns), measuring the fuel into whatever container his customer provides.

Recently, Dan was listening to a pastor from his church he had recorded on his phone. I made a comment, why do all of the pastors here have to obnoxiously scream at you in a rough, gravelly voice? His response... 'ameshika moto' (he caught fire), or 'ameshika Mungo' (he caught the power of God).

The following day, as I was discussing my religious views, and how the Islamic culture in Mali helped shape it, Dan had gotten 'githeri' (beans and maize) from a woman selling door-to-door. He interrupted me, said sorry, I'm about to eat. Then in the loudest, most abrasive voice he could muster, exclaimed 'Baba katika jina la Yesu...!' (Father in the name of Jesus...) Freakin' hilarious.

Masinde, Tom, Jobick, Dennis, Nasette, and Moshe. Six guys that I frequently chat with in town at a particular section of 'maduka' (shops). Masinde sells soda, while Nasette and Moshe run a welding business. Jobick likes to video events in town. I have personally worked with Tom, a member of the Ministry of Forestry, as well as Dennis, a local Community Health Worker.

Also at this section of shops, my friends Jack (first from left) and Gori (second from right) are 'fundi wa piki piki' (motorcycle mechanics), and Shila (third from left) sells auto parts, as well as 'chips'  (french fries) which she frys up underneath a small metal overhang. These guys all make it one of my favorite stops in town to chat.

I like to make small talk in 'olunyala', the local vernacular, with this nice elder tailor. He likes to challenge me, make sure I'm picking up their local language.

Peter Odongo of Burenjo CBO and Charles Ratori, a Community Health Extension Worker for the local health dispensary, are two guys that I have worked with frequently. Charles actually sought me out a couple months after I had arrived to assist him during Global Handwashing Day. Since that time, we have made it a point to collaborate on a range of health-related projects. He helped me to find a role in the community at a time when my host organization was flailing. I have helped them to request their own Peace Corps Volunteer in August.

Hanging with some guys at the local 'boda boda' (motorcycle-for-hire) stage in town..

My good friends Kadogo and Johniee while chatting at night in Kadogo's 'kinyozi' (barber shop).

I like chatting with guys under the tree in front of Kuchaba's shop most afternoons. I've had particular fun with 'Ounyo' (second from left). I had thought his name was actually 'onyo', meaning caution in 'kiswahili', asking him why his parents had to warn the world about him. So its become a running joke, calling out 'onyo' whenever I see him.

Edwin Ochieng, my main counterpart, showed me villages deep within the swamp that most locals have only heard about. People are always impressed that I've gone to such places, calling me a true 'mnyala'. As a volunteer, he proved dedicated and ambitious, working alongside me without any personal benefit. My time here could not have been nearly as successful without him.

My good friend Gabe (standing) runs a local 'kinyozi' (barber shop). Another one of the many spots in town I stop by daily to 'piga story' (beat the story/chat).

My friend Osimba fetches water for me each week from a nearby pump. Most families and businesses pay people to provide this service. He often brings me papaya, mangoes, and bananas as gifts from his garden as well.

The staff at Jubilee Eatery Joint (pictured above: Unis, Josi, and 'Maden') have essentially been my 'jatigi' for you Bambara speakers. A 'jatigi' is basically your host family in Mali, generally the family that you eat with. In Mali, it is not acceptable to cook and eat alone. Here in Budalang'i, I ate most of my meals here, not only because their food is good, but also because they are such great people. Always in good spirits, joking and chatting with their custormers. They really have made me feel like family. I'll really miss these guys, and their food as well.

My good friends Esyli Kuchaba, who runs his own video hall and store, and Ben, who used to run an adjacent 'duka' (shop) have helped make my time in Bunyala go by quickly while chatting in front of their shops during lazy afternoons.

On market days I spend time chatting with the men and women selling clothes and cookware.

My good friends Kadogo, who runs a 'kinyozi' (barber shop), and Goma. These two guys play for and run the local amateur football team, Budo Ajax. When I'm free on the weekend, I usually join them at their games.