Last Tuesday I was taken to a construction site where a new facility is being erected for the orphans that I had been volunteering with in Kibera, the fore mentioned slum located near the capitol of Kenya, Nairobi. I felt instantly at peace with my surroundings and, being able to see a very tangible project that I could dedicate my time and energy to, I requested that I have my work and living accommodations transferred to the site that stood before me and, respectively, to an orphanage located relatively near to my new project. I spent my final day in Kibera with the orphans at Mama Tunza's telling them of my decision, trying to alleviate the discomfort felt on either ends by reminding them that my absence would result in their exodus from the slum being expedited. The situation was exacerbated by the fact that there was a conflict between some residents of Kibera who had, apparently, been stealing electricity for some time and the police. The disturbance began in an area that was a decent distance from the block upon which Mama Tunza's Children's Center is situated, but eventually found its way to that same block. In an effort to flush out the fugitives the police tear-gassed the entire block, and the staff, orphans, and volunteers at Mama Tunza's found themselves in the thick of the shit. It seemed a funny way to leave things. T.I.A. ... This is Africa.

On Thursday I left in the morning with my luggage and a new sense of balance, excited about what I would be able to accomplish at my new project site and the prospect of living in an area that possesses more children than adults, being the orphanage named Shelter that I would call home for the next 2 1/2 months. I arrived and, with my uncanny skills in organization, had pitched all of the articles contained in three pieces of luggage into some shelves and a closet in my new room within the first 90 minutes of my arrival. Afterward, I spent some time reading in my room until a large lunch of chapati (tortillas on steroids, my favorite African source of carbohydrates), lentil stew, and cabbage arrived in the room adjacent to me. In a somewhat awkward attempt to be accommodating to their new guest, the kitchen staff have seen fit to have me sequestered off into a fairly large dining room for all of my meals. While I do enjoy the solidarity, at times, it is nonetheless a fairly peculiar way of letting someone know they are welcome where they are. Fair enough, though. The rest of the day was spent acclimating myself with my new surroundings, being an area characterized by rolling hills, incredibly fresh air, and the nomadic Masai tribe. These are a people that have done an immeasurable job at retaining their cultural and tribal customs in the face of modernization, westernization, and urbanization. But do not be fooled by their ability to survive in remote areas as their being out of touch modernity... they are outstanding businessman and businesswomen. They will literally sell the shirt off their back, a fact that was shown first-hand to me upon arrival at the Masai Mara National Reserve.

The next morning I had my first experience in riding on the back of a motorbike. It was real damn fast, and a lot of fun. While I left the orphanage feeling somewhat groggy, I arrived in Ngong Town wide awake after having the wind whipped in my face which wore a slightly self-destructive smile in not knowing if my driver intended to keep both of our asses on the bike for the duration of our trip. However, we arrived safely and I thanked him for helping me wake up, as well as allotting me an extra 15 minutes with which to arrive at my final destination due to the speed with which he traveled. Good times. I hopped into a matatu, a van that has been modified to escort somewhere between 10-15 passengers, and was on my way to Nairobi. I met some other volunteers who would be going on the same safari at the VICDA office and spent some time reading and checking up on emails. As is usual in Kenya, we were scheduled to leave at 8:00 and punctually departed at 9:40. However, we made good time in getting to Masai Mara and spent the remainder of the day on a game drive in which we spotted a number of species including giraffes, cheetahs, baboons, warthogs, elephants, elands (the antelopes stockier cousin), wildebeests, zebras, and lions; A day well spent, indeed. At the entrance to the park we were flooded by Masai women eager to sell the beads they are famous for fashioning into pieces of jewelry, as well as some other wood carvings created by other indigenous tribes of the area but hawked by the Masai due to their uncanny hawking skills. They literally threw some items onto our laps and called out the price of the item while it was in midair; ruthless tactics. I remained immune the first day but, after considering how many more times I might get the chance to purchase gifts from one of the most famous, and infamous, tribes in Kenya, I gave in as we drove in the following morning. Alex, D.J., Nick, Mom, Grandma, Grandpa, Kegan, Justin, and Chase... I have something for each of you when I return home. Accompanying us was a fellow volunteer named Rachel and her father, David. While I have made it a point to remain open-minded to all things that I am exposed to here, I made my opinions swiftly and, by all indications, correctly after the first day of these two blowhards. David was a fairly loud-spoken man who had taken to deciding to marry a woman from China after developing a stimulating relationship for a whopping 3 months over the internet. He had received my most unfavorable reaction to his ability to project his voice when he decided to act as a human alarm clock the second morning of our safari, alerting another volunteer and me that breakfast was ready like a friggin' drill sergeant. Rachel, a double-major graduate, showed varying signs of intelligence that were ultimately compromised by a complete and utter social ineptness. She struck me as a girl who very rarely did without the things that she desired, and her father affirmed this suspicion. They accompanied me when I asked the driver if he would drive me back to the gate of the park so that I could pick up some gifts I decided would be fitting to certain friends or family members. The two of them were successful in making all three of us looking like money-slinging idiots, ready to whore our wallets out for beads and wood. Perfect. I held my tongue for the entirety of the weekend and, successfully, while I found myself without two things: a conflict, and their want of my phone number to stay in touch after the safari was over.

One of the most illusive animals known in the African Serengeti is the leopard. During the second day in the Mara our driver spotted an impala, dead, slung across a branch of a tall tree... a telltale sign of a leopard nearby. With a combination of patience and luck, the driver managed to get us back to see what he knew to be the only leopard in a 500 kilometer radius in a tree adjacent to the prey it proudly displayed in the fore mentioned tree. The next day we visited Lake Nakuru, an area characterized by white rhinoceroses and an enormous swarming of greater flamingos... you know, the pink ones. After viewing the rhino, we had officially seen what many people set out to do and are willing to pay ridiculous amounts of money in order to view, being The Big Five: lion, leopard, buffalo, elephant, and rhino. It was a safari well spent.

As for recent developments, I am finding myself enjoying my new home and job very much. It is a nice combination of manual labor with some very funny, loyal, and honest Kenyan guys during the morning and early afternoon, thereafter returning to the orphanage I now live in. I am currently serving as a math, science, and english tutor, as well as administering first aid. Thank you, Mom, for helping me build the first aid kit before I left; it is serving the children here very well. The staff have saw fit to call me Dr. Zakayo, Zakayo being the Swahili equivalent of Zachary. I feel useful, and strong, because I feel needed. I'm proving to myself that I am my best when others use me to help them for things greater than myself.

On two final notes... I have been talking to some of the men working with me at the new facility for Mama Tunza's orphans in constructing what would be the first public children's library in Ngong Hills, the very rural, very displaced area I am now living in. They have taken to standing behind me after seeing how hard I am willing to work for them after the first week of construction, and have volunteered to perform the labor for free until I can either raise donations or save money to pay them when I return home. So, Mom, thank you again... my work ethic is not just my initiative, but also a product of your efforts, and has gained respect from people halfway across the world. Be sure to pass that onto Grandpa, too; he deserves my thanks, also. While I would need to fund raise for the costs of building materials, the labor and supplies with which to stock this library, being the materials gathered through the fundraiser at Waterloo High School, are already available. We're already 2/3 of the way there; good stuff. Oh, and the last thing... I shaved my head last Friday. For real.

Take care,
Zachary