Kenyan Transportation/Farewell

I am sad to say that it is time for the finale de blogo de Cheetah Man. This won't be as glorious as I had originally planned, given that I got my camera stolen two weeks ago. No safari pics of lions mating, and no badass shots of me dominating the class 5 rapids of the Nile River in Uganda. I am actually really upset about that one because I know none of you actually believe I did that without solid proof. Anyways, enjoy what I have left.



Kenyan Transportation

1. Took Took- (lost picture with camera) basically a motorcycle with a carriage on the back

2. Boda Boda- (lost picture with camera) bicycle taxi. Boda Boda drivers, who I lazily refer to as Bodae, are pretty funny dudes. The funniest thing about them is that they are grown men riding around on bikes with pink puffy seat cushions on the back, and outrageous wheel spoke accessories that would make Pee Wee Herman cry in jealousy.

3. Matatu- Let me try to give you a glimpse into the ridiculous world of the matatu business. Kenya doesn't have a public transportation system, so here it is all private business. Where Philly has SEPTA, Kenya has matatus, bodae, and took tooks. And since most Kenyans can't afford the automobile, transportation is a highly lucrative/fiercely competitive business.


I have lived in both urban and rural sections of this beautiful country, and no place is safe from the wrath of the matatu. In Nairobi, matatus jam pack the streets all hours of the day, causing much stress for everyone. Yet, I believe the matatus in the countryside cause much more chaos, given that there is only one paved road (I use the term "paved" lightly. By "paved", I mean "not mud").


The word matatu is swahili for "decrepid old van used as a taxi."


Matatu Driver' Job Description:
- Operating matatu at highest possible speed at all times
- Barely dodging large potholes and small children
- Running Bodae of the road
- Honking horn every couple seconds for no reason at all
- In case of a horn malfunction, rolling down the window and cursing in your native tribal speak is both accepted and highly encouraged
- (Only in rural Kenya) Ending your work day at sundown to avoid being robbed and murdered by the bandits who lay on the side of the road at night waiting to pillage

But the matatu driver is not alone. He has a henchmen in the back, collecting money from the passengers. His job title is called the matatu conductor, as in "hey let's CONDUCT an experiment to see how many Kenyans we can fit into a (expletive) van!"


Matatu Conductor's Job Description:
- Wearing a maroon vest and pants
- Hanging out the open sliding door at 90 km per hour, holding on with one hand
- Paying off the corrput Kenyan police when they see his matatu is carrying triple the amount of people allowed in a vehicle by law
- Being unnecessarily loud and obnoxious
- Finding muzungus at matatu stops any getting them into the matatu by using any means possible (pleading, begging, grabbing/pulling)
- Once muzungus are in the matatu, rippping them off as much as humanly possible


If you consider yourself a fan of personal space, then you will absolutely rue the day you ever step foot on a matatu. The most people I have shared a matatu is 23. This ride included 3 people hanging out the sliding glass door, grown men lying across people's laps, and the child and the chicken of the lady sitting next to me placed securely on each one of my legs. Other favorite rides include one matatu driver being so drunk that he fell asleep at one of the stops, the drunk passenger who was simultaneously hanging out the sliding door and asking me why Americans think Kenyans are so stupid, and the time some lady's chicken was going so insane that the lady decided it would be best for everyone in the matatu if she ripped its head off. So that's what she did.

Here's a few shots of some gansta ish

But above of the bling.....

Praise the good Lord

4. Peugeots

This section of the blog is dedicated to self-proclaimed Chatam Park Dunkball legend Brian Kane, who has put up with my silly antics for too damn long. The symbol of integrity

For the lucky few in this country who are able to afford an autombile in this country, the brand of choices are limited. But if you want a car with the best combination of class, style, and power, there is only one choice my friend: the Peugeot. I am not positive, but the I studied French at the prestigious Penn State-Delaware County campus, and I believe the word Peugeot is French for "the greatest car of all time, ever."

Ok, so the last two sentences were complete lies. But it's true, Peugeots are very popular here. I took a bus to downtown Nairobi after landing at the airport, and I remember seeing a huge sign with a Peugeot emblem on it. At the time, I didn't know if I was actually seeing the sign for a Peugeot dealership, or was just hallucinating from jet lag and lack of sleep after spending a full day on a plane.

The reason I am writing about this brand of car is because I spent much time in high school riding in one. My old friend Brian Kane used to own a blueish- grey Peugeot station wagon. This car represented a rich history of dudes who went to my high school and drove horrendous automobiles: DiJulia's "Boardmobile", Bruno's "Blue Bomber", Sir Richard F. Crowley's "Battle Wagon", Lesovitz's poop-brown Dodge Aries that didn't even deserve a nickname, etc. Kane traded his cousin two McDonald's cheeseburgers for "The Peuge." Not even kidding.

I have no idea where or how his cousin acquired The Peuge. My guess is he lost a bet. I can still remember asking Kane for the first time where his cousin got that awful car from, and he replied with something like: "well my friend, it was a cold day, and there was a terrible storm approaching on the horizon. The sky was black and the winds were howling. Then suddenly, the clouds opened up and out of nowhere, the hands of God came down from the sky and gently placed The Peuge in front of my cousin's house." Not even kidding.

The truth is, God would've wanted nothing to do with this vehicle. I actually just looked up the word Peugeot in the French dictionary, and it is translated as "mobile dumpster." I used to make Kane happy by agreeing with him that The Peuge looked great, and the ladies really dug it. I would also act like I believed him when he would tell me there was no need to stop at the gas station when you are in the Peuge, because The Peuge only ran on love. Not even kidding.

In all honesty, I will always have much love for The Peuge. I was just saying all of those mean things because when Kane reads this, he will be very upset and angry, and that in of itslef will bring me great joy. The truth is, I have so many great memories of riding in the Peuge, most of which involve throwing trash/eggs/snowballs at people, yelling at the elderly, and terrorizing all of Fairmount Park.

Arguably The Peuge's most glorious moment came when Kane cheated death one morning on the drive into school. The daily no-holds-barred race to school usually started at the Mann Music Center at 52nd and Parkside, and by "started" I mean "turned from friendly little race into a life-threatening competition." I used to get rides in from all different kids to school, but one thing was constant among all the drivers: whenever they saw the Peuge in their rearview mirror, they would curse Kane under their breath and then say a silent prayer, because they knew they were going to go through hell if they were going to beat the Peuge to school.

So one morning, there was about a ten car race up concourse to Girard Avenue. I was in Bruno's supremely haggard "Blue Bomber", which looked and ran like it got caught in one too many acid-rain storms. We were waiting under the Girard Bridge at the light across the street from the Philly Zoo, waiting to turn left onto Girard Ave. I remember Bruno saying that he could care less about winning, he just wanted to beat The Peuge. But Kane had different plans. Sitting in last place and desperate to win, Kane gunned it when the light turned green and went the wrong way through the Girard Ave Bridge underpass, looking like Gene Hackman in "The French Connection," and survived without a scratch to The Peuge. It's still to this day one of the most ridiculous things I have ever seen. So cheers Bri-Guy, and long live The Peuge.

Look at that beautiful baby

This is a nice picture of Brian Kane's most-favorite automobile and least-favorite person

Farewell

Alright folks, my days of blogging are now officially over. Ending this blog talking about Peugeouts and making fun of Brian Kane has truly been a dream come true. I compare the feeling to how John Elway felt when he retired right after winning two consecutive super bowls. I would continue to keep the blog going, but I doubt anyone really wants to see pics of me eating Jano's pizza until I vomit and going around Baltimore picking fights with Ravens fans.

I hope you have enjoyed the pics I have put on the blog. Kenya and its people make even a novice photographer like myself take some classic shots. Some of the stuff I have seen in the past 8 months has been literally mind-blowing. Half of this country's residents live under the poverty line. That's 16 million people in one country alone. After doing the work I have done since coming to Kenya, going back to work a desk job just doesnt appeal to me. I think I have found the profession I want to pursue. You guessed it: competitive bodybuilder/freelance romance novelist.

But I am going to use this last paragraph to actually say something serious for the first time on this blog full of silly pictures and unfunny comments. I recommend that, at some point in your lives, you travel to Africa and see how people live here. It will definitely make you think differently about your situation. Americans have a lot to learn from Kenyans, mostly in regards to what really matters in life, and where true happiness should be derived from. Take care of yourselves, look out for one another, and always remember:

"It's in the shelter of each other that people live"

--Irish proverb (thanks Kerry)

Street Boys

Before I start my next blog, I want to let you all know that I am actually coming home early. You can call it a case of the Ole Homesick Blues. No, that's a lie, I just want to be home in time to see the Phillies not make the playoffs. When I get back to the States, I'm going to finish out my year of service at the SND national office in Baltimore, helping with the new group of volunteers, and hopefully doing some work in inner city Baltimore. I actually just got my camera stolen yesterday (sorry mom), so I don't know how many more blog posts I am going to do. I am hoping at least two: Kenyan transportation and Safari. I'll do my best.

Street Boys
It is an unfortunate truth that there are many, many kids in Nairobi who are living on their own. They literally have nothing. Many of them don't have any family, in most causes due to abandonment or losing their entire family to the AIDS virus. The ones that do have family come from situations so bad that living on the street seems like the better option. Nairobi has many progrtams to help the street kids, but the need is so high that only tiny percentage of kids actually get help.

The kids in these next few pictures are part of the VIP project in South B, which is a program of the Mukuru Slum Development Project, that serves street youth by giving them a place to live in the slums, 3 meals a day, and guidance. Their lving conditions aren't the greatest, with 15 kids living in a two room house, a house made of tin an cardboard. But these kids are very happy to be off the street and being cared for. My roomate Helena works there, and she literally spends all day and night with these kids.

Kevin and Peter, striking a pose.

That's my roomate Helena. She hails from glorious Slovakia

Me and the crew

This next group of pictures are of kids from Mary Immacculate Rehabilitation Center in South B. It is run by the Sisters of Mercy and gives the kids housing, food, and a good education. Two of my Irish roomates were working there, so i went down on my free time to help out, most of the time playing permanent goalie during one of the heated 40 kid, every-kid-for-himself soccer match.

Did I ever mention that Kenyans love football? Here's proof. Samuel here turned his school shirt into a football jersey. The name on his shirt sayd DROGBA, in reference to Didier Drogba, the Ivory Coast-born striker on Chelsea.

Lunch time

Time for shamelss promotions. My man Jimmy is holding an Earthtone sticker. Earthtone is a band based out of Annapolis, Maryland. I saw their show in this past New Year's Eve and it was awesome. I vaguely remeber rambling to one of the the dudes in the band that I was leaving for Africa in three days and I will get him a cool picture with the sticker. I am a man of my word. I actually had some really awesome group shots with the sticker, but I didn't realize until after that the kids were holding the sticker upside down.

That shirt reads Jano's Pizzeria, Drexel Hill. Pa. the number is 610-259-4316. I can't recommend this place enough.It is the only place I have ever been to where no matter what you order, it is the greatest thingh you've ever eaten.

Micheal, Allan, Mostio, Me, Ephraim, and Paul

They all wanted pictures with my hat on. Needless to say, they were quite shocked when I took my hat off.

This is Brian. He is volunteer from Australia who came over for the summer months. He is teaching the kids Tai Chi

Kevin

This is Dan the Man. He was doing wrestling impressions so I decided to take a pic. Here is doing his best "Stone Cold" Steve Austin impression, sans a Budwesier pounder in each hand

Here's Allan trying to wipe the dirt off my chin. I spend a lot of the time there just letting kids touch my arms and hair

Here are some kids from St. Katharine primary school, which is connected to Mary Immaculate

I know what you're thinking: "Why in God's name are those kids taking a picture with that homeless guy?"

Ice Skating/Best of Fan Mail Pt.II/ Swahili Lessons

Ice skating
So they have an ice skating rink in Nairobi. My Irish roomates were making plans to go, so I decided to join them. Stepping on the ice felt very weird. I haven't been ice skating since probably grade school. I haven't even been in an ice skating arena since I got kicked out of the last Bonner-O'Hara game I went to at the Skatium back in high scool.

The crew: Tressa, Elaine, Ashleigh, Brian Boitano, and Lisa

Nothing flashy, just showing the ladies some skills.

This is a technique I mastered as a youngin. It's called "eating ice"




This pic here is of Tressa making fun of me for having to use Mr. Happy-Penguin-Ice Skating-Helper

Best of Fanmail pt.II

I now bring you some more excerpts from my favorite emails

1) "How long is your hair? Do you still wear sunscreen? If you got the movies, did you watch 300 yet? If so, did you think it was as incredibly badass as I did? If so, did you think the part when he kicks the dude down the hole was the most badass of all?"

-- Laura Murphy, Annunuciation basketball "B team" lifer

(long enough to be gross, no more sunscreen, I watched 300, it's incredibly badass, and I love it when the king kicks the Persian messenger down the hole. And I officially apologize for the "B team" shout out)

2) "."

-- John Kiely

(still no word from Kiely)

3) "Who is this??"

-- John Kiely, when I called him on Memorial Day to reprimand him for having yet to email me

4) "So I just saw that movie The Last King of Scotland. Anyway, the dictator tells the Scottish guy that Africans find red hair "disgusting." The nerve of thes people! We are unique Keller, we are not freaks. 60 year old women would kill for my hair, and their husbands want to commit adultery with me. Don't let it get ya down."

--Meg "Peg the Chicken Leg" Carrol

(Thanks for the support Meg. But while you hair is indeed the lovliest, I have to admit, my 6 month old quasi-mullet actually is quite disgusting)

5) "Keller, my adventurous-Kenyan-formerboozebuddy-nowpeoplehelper-hotredheaded-friend, I am obsessed with your blog. You almost inspired me to start a blog, but then I remembered that I got my digital camera stolen."

--The beautiful Virginia Genevieve Reardon

6) "I need to get myself a little shanty shack of my own like the beautiful one you came across. Question: do you now refer to yourself as Keller the cheetah shackman? Because I do."

--Chatam Park Dunkball Demi-God Brian Kane

(No Kane, I don't refer to myself as Keller the cheetah shackman. There is something about self-proclaimed nicknames that I find very cheesy. Dudes who give themselves nicknames are the same type of nerds who have web logs. Oh wait....)

7) "Do you have some sort of email address? I know, I know.......first mud hut on the right, 30 paces north of the watering hole, some village, Africa?"

--Havertown all-star Stephanie Campetti

(Your boyfriend TJ has my address, he sends me love letters on a monthly basis)

8) "I love that blog title man."

--Steven W. Shea: Man of the People/Social Work Extraordinaire/One Hell of a Model American

9) "Hey is this the email address where we can make fun of Andrew Murray and get it posted online?"

--Kevan "Baby Mullet" Iffrig

(This is indeed that email address. Spread the word)

10) "That Steve Shea guy sounds like a real class individual; on the other hand, that Andrew Murray kid sounds like a real loser."

--anyone who has read my blog that doesn't know Steve Shea or Murrdawg

(I couldn't agree more)

11) "Shea, what a great guy. Murray what a loser."

--anyone who has read my blog that knows both Shea and the Murrdiggitron

(once again, I couldn't agree more)

12) "Just writing you this letter to inform you that I was reading an article in Time magazine and I came across this essay about the Kibera slum in Nairobi. It talks about a 5'11, 140 pound redhaired demon with brown spots all over it that terrorizes the slum. I was actually thinking of doing some service after college like you, because you are my idol. Actually no, David Hasselhoff is my idol, but you are a close second. Actually no, it's David Hasselhoff and then Roseanne, but you're by every means a close third."

--Jimmy Byrne

(Hey that's really funny Jimmy. You should just bag college and hit the road as a stand up comic. Hey remember when we were younger and I used to make you eat dirt and then beat you up until you cried? Man, those were the days)

13) "P.S. Always remember the wise words of Patrick Swayze, 'Nobody puts baby in the corner.'"

--Pat McKeever

(Speaking of Patrick Swayze, if anyone wants to see McKeever's impression of Swayze's dance number from Dirty Dancing, go to the Ocean Drive in Sea Isle on any Saturday afternoon for happy hour and look for a pathetic loser either dancing by him self or grinding with Sean Heenan)

14) "Iowa pretty much sucks. But things could be worse, I could be LIVING IN AFRICA." --Mike Albert Frank aka "the MAF"

(thanks for the support Mikey boy, have fun at Camp Bisco)

15) "Guess what? Everyone still goes down to Sea Isle and acts like drunken idiots. It's like, 'hey guys you wanna relax with a few beers?' 'Nah, we'd rather drink until someone pukes, then throw McStravog through a plate glass window.' Ahh to be 17.... ooo wait we're 24."

--Delaware County Rock Icon Matt Johnsen

(I see Sea Isle hasn't changed a bit)

16) "I read your blog and was trying to think of something funny to write so you would put it up and people would be like, "I saw what you wrote on Keller's blog, that was really funny." And I would be like, "YEA THAT WAS FUNNY."

--Kevan "Baby Mullet" Iffrig

(2 shoutouts on one blog post? Consider yourself famous Brospeh)

17) "Yo Keller,

Schlegel told me about the blog this weekend so I wanted to toss you an email and see how you are doing. The blog has been hilarious and I can't wait to keep reading about your exploits in Kenya. Hopefully as an athletic instructor your doing your best Kevin Bacon and showing the trademark Jimmy Doolan Shake and Bake move that revolutionized the game in rural Africa. In the mean time, I thought I would fill you in on some happenings back home

1.The shore is pretty decent. Leo Muldoon is still dominating the happy hour scene, but without the random Keller and T. Nowlan sightings, Sea Isle just isn't living up to last year

2. They opened a McGillicuddy's in Manayunk. We go randomly on Thursday nights. They sell alrge bottles of Golden Monkey--which you need to remember for my next point......

3. Hepp and I found out that when Dijulia drinks and you remind him of wetting the bed, he will wet the bed 99% of the time. Needless to say, when we are out and John drinks, we will most certainly bring it up. This fact has led to him wetting Kelly's bed close to 15 times so far in 2007. Various Friday morning text messages include:

"April Showers bring May flowers, but Thursday nights bring Bed Showers"

and

"It's pouring outside now. It was raining in Kelly's bed last night at about 4am"

4. Hepp still looks great when reminding John he wets the bed....

5. Mayhew is moving to Boston for work and to go to BC for grad school. This led him to commit the idea of completely changing who he is. When in Boston, he will no longer be called Patrick, but will go by the name 'Boston Rick'. He will wear sunglasses, regardless the time of day. He will run marathons and do charity work--or at least tell people he does. He said that we can only visit if we refer to him as 'Boston Rick', so noody has any idea of his previous life.

6. McKeever loves to dance in Sea Isle.....especially by himself. He looks like an idiot

7. Finally, Keith has almost been arrested twice in Sea Isle in the month of July. First, for fighting bouncers at the Springfield after they wouldn't let him bring his drink into the bathroom (a long standing rule at the Springfield that has never been a problem before). Second, for kicking flowers off a grave by the Sea Isle library. Both times my roomates looked at him with unmatched disdain.

Seriously though, what you are doing over there is awesome. I wish I had the guts to do something like that. We're all proud of you back here. keep up the good work and keep living the dream."

--Tim "Shags" O'Shaughnesy

(That email was so good I had to put it all on. Shags, tell "Boston Rick" he will always be the third biggest slob of all-time, right behind Quinn and McCafferty)

Swahili Lesson

Here are some Swahili phrases that I have used regularly since coming to Kenya

1) Swahili: Jina langu ni Brian

Translation: "My name is Brian."

(I tell anyone I meet that my name is Brian. Most Kenyans don't know Ryan, so they either call me Brian or Riel. So I chose Brian)

2) Swahili:Ninatoka Marekani, lakini hakuna, si jui 50 Cent. Ndiyo, Ninapena Obama.

Translation: "I am from America, but no, I do not know 50 Cent. Yes, I like Obama.

(When I tell people that I am from the US, the first two questions usually asked is if I personally know 50 Cent, and if I am going to vote for Democratic candidate Barrack Obama, whose father is a member of the celebrated Luo tribe of Kenya)

3) Swahili: Polle sana, Si na pesa

Translation: "I am very sorry, I have no money."

(most often-used phrase)

4) Swahili: Mimi ni mwananchi Kenya. Si taki bei ya mtallee

Translation: "I am a resdient of Kenya. I don't want tourist price."

(This is used when I am trying to buy something and the vendor is trying to rip me off because

he thinks I am a Muzungu tourist)

5) Swahili: Tafadhali usinisumbue

Translation: "Please stop bothering me."

(I say this to that one guy who is hassling me no matter where I go. There is alwasy someone with something to say. You'd be suprised how many times it has worked. Usually the guy stops making fun of me because he is speechless at the fact that someone who looks like me can actually speak swahili)

6) Swahili: Usiogope!

Translation: "Do not be afraid!"

(second most-used phrase. I say this one to all the young children that I have made run away crying at the sight of my red quasi-mullet, which at this point has to number in the tens of thousands)

7) Swahili: Wewe ni mzuri sana, lakini mimi ni priest

Translation: "You are very beautiful, but I am a priest."

(I say this to the Kenyan girls who try to flirt with me when we go out. It's much nicer and easier than saying "si na pesa")

8) Swahili: Hapana asante buana, niko sawa

Translation: "No thank you sir, I am ok"

(this phrase is used when I get asked, "Hey white man, you want to buy some Bob Marley cigarettes?")

9) Swahili: Mimi ni Peter Crouch

Translation: "I am Peter Crouch."

(Peter Crouch plays football for English Premier League powerhouse Liverpool. He is tall, gangly, lanky, oafy, and squirrelly. And every Kenyan thinks that i am him, so i tell them what they want to hear)

10) Swahili: John Kiely hawana warafiki

Translation: "John Kiely doesn't have friends"

(pretty self-explanatory)

11) Swahili: Rafiki yangu, Tommy Nowlan, hawapendi kuoga

Translation: "My friend, Tommy Nowlan, doesn't like to take showers."

(Ok, I don't really say this one that often, but it's definitely true)

And before I go.......

Happy Birthday Mom.

I love ya and I miss you very much

Steven W. Shea: Man of the People/ Social Work Extraordinaire/ One Hell of a Model American

So I found out in late March that my buddy Steve Shea was coming to town for the whole month of June. He sent me an email first telling me that he reads my blog, and that it's the greatest website in the history of man. Nothing new, I get emails like that on the daily. But then he informed me that he was coming to Africa and wasn't leaving until we met up. Needless to say, I was pretty excited. It's been a while since I have seen someone I knew, especially someone as classy as Steven W. Shea.

I have known Steve for a couple of years now. He went to Fairfield University with my old friend, St. Denis Bulldawg football deity Adam Hepp. Steve is also an Avalon regular, hanging out with some of society's finest: John Paul "Boards" DiJulia, B. Mallon, Pat "the mayor" Nowlan, Hammy, and Matt "Nelson Mandela" Mullin. He even used to work at PJ Ryan's with all-star bartender Drew Zuccarini. He also knows Brian Kane, but they aren't really friends, mostly because Kane doesn't have any friends. (I am finished with the shameless shout-outs)

Steve is now taking classes atUPenn, where he is studying to receive degrees in both social work and non-profit leadership. He came to Kenya with a program that was funded and supervised by professors from the University of North Carolina. There were about 25 people in the group, most of whom either had social work backgrounds, or were in the middle of their studies. The purpose of the trip was to see how social work is applied somewhere outside the United States. The group got to experience what life is like for millions of Kenyans who live in inhumane conditions. They visited NGO's and non-profits that aimed to help street kids, slum dwellers, people suffering with HIV/AIDS, and those living in abstract poverty.

Along with the great work they saw being done, the group also took a trip to the coast for two days to see the Indian Ocean, and went on safari for a whole weekend. Steve's days were busy until about 7:30 pm every night, so I would usually meet up with him and a couple of kids from his group afterwards to hang out. And on Steve's free days, we did our best to see as much of Nairobi as we possibly could. We went to the Massai Market to get harrased by street vendors, and went to the elephant orphanage and the giraffe sanctuary. I let him sit in on one of my first classes as a teacher, and he let me crash on the floor of his room at the Hilton (fair trade). We even went out to a few clubs for cocktails and danced like only us unhip, uncool white boys can (to the horror of every Kenyan present).

After Steve's trip ended on the last week of June, he hopped on a bus and took a 13-hour ride to Kumpala, the capital city of Uganda, our neighbor to the west. He met up with another Fairfield alumnus named Tim Savage, who is volunteering with the Peace Corps. I actually met Tim at Hepp's graduation party, and we had a good conversation discussing our plans for the mother land. And then later that night, we were hanging out in the backyard, and St. Aloysius legend Mike Mailey fell out of a folding chair, which was probably the highlight of my summer.

So the last part of that paragraph was a little off the subject, but seeing a 230 pound beast fall backwards out of a chair is just too good not to mention.

Moving along. So when I labeled Steve as a social work extraordinaire, I wasn't exaggerating. For a term project at school, Steve helped set up the Kids' Zone Mentorship Program, which was designed to give tutoring, counseling, and mentoring to underprivelidged youth growing up in Germantown, Mt. Airy, West Oak Lane, and other poverty-stricken/violence-ridden areas of Philly. A couple of days after Steve gets back to the States, he is moving to NYC to intern for the Arthur Ashe Foundation. In addition, Steve is also an mentor/sponsor at the Gesu School in north Philly, which sits right next to my old high school, St. Joe's Prep. Small world. Gesu is the first school I ever tutored at.

The Man of the People in deep thought. Here he is trying to comprehend just how good a football player Adam Hepp was at St. Denis

Steve Shea and Ryan Keller: arguably the most dominant tandem of all time

Here are pictures from the David Sheldrick elephant orphanage. The David Sheldrick Wildlfe Trust is an NGO that rescues baby elephants whose parents have been killed either by poachers or disease. The site is open to visitors from 11 am- noon everyday, for feeding time.

The stampede

That bottle was done in about ten seconds


Later enormous tree branch

I tried to think of something interesting to write about this pic. I couldn't think of anything. This is me touching an elephant's butt.

After visiting the orphanage, I came to the conclusion that no matter what species of life you belong to, if you live in Kenya, you play soccer.



Here are some pics from the Nairobi Giraffe Center:



Unreal




This giraffe is actually 27,000 ft tall



Ridiculous



My look of shock comes from both the size of the giraffe's head and the fact that I was about to feed a giraffe. I was scared it was going to eat my arm






Giraffe tongues are black, slimy, and smelly. But you'd be suprised how good they taste (see below).





Shea getting taunted by a mammoth beast



The kiss of death.
It's funny to think that this guy's profession involves showing visitors how to properly feed giraffes from their mouths. He must get tongued by a giraffe at least 25 times a day.Talk about working hard for the money.




Goin in for the kill





The first kiss I've had in too damn long




This is me trying to pretend I didn't love it






This is me showing Shea the ancient Kenyan ritual of drinking beer. Actually that's a lie. That's me trying to get the taste of giraffe tongue out of my mouth

Two happy nerds (side note: Shea grew that beard in 8 hours)

So June turned out to be easily the best month in Kenya so far. Steve got to go on Safari, ride the rapids down the Nile River, and got to see both the Indian Ocean and Uganda, our neighbor to the west. I got to see the first familiar face in 6 months, and Steve got to experience the craziness that is life in Nairobi, Kenya. Cheers Stevey boy, come back soon. And tell Sherwood I said HOLLA.

Apologies/ Help Sudan/ Kwaheri Malava/ Jambo Nairobi/ Life as an Inadequate Athletics Instructor/ New Crib

Rkeller31@yahoo.com
Let me know how much you like the blog/how funny and cool I am/ how much you want to be like me

Apologies
Dear friends,
I sincerely apologize for my lack of blogging as of late. It has been a long while since my last post. My deepest apologies go out to those who are genuinely pissed off at me. I have received many hate emails from former fans of KellerinKenya. blogspot.com, who have vowed never to read another post in protest of my careless, irresponsible, non-blogging ways. Many of the hate emails were from people who severely hate their jobs. These people have been telling me that seeing pictures of me in Kenya makes their work day just a little less miserable. One reader even told me that the Rat Scratch Fever post changed his life. Actually, that's a complete lie. But that be hilarious if it were true.

Save Darfur
Before you go any further, do yourself a favor and check out savedarfur.org, and click on the link that lets you write an email to Dubya telling him that the situation in southern Sudan is out of control, and that the time to act is now. I will try to sum up what has been going on there for a few years in a couple of sentences:

Basically a couple years ago, there were two major rebel army groups who were gaining power and were about to challenge the government. To suppress the rebel uprising, the president hired militis called Janjaweeds, and ordered them to go after any person who shared the same tribal background as the rebels. So basically the Janjaweed has been raping, torturing, and killing anyone they have come in contact with. Hundreds of thousands have been murdered, milllions have been displaced from their homes, either fleeing the country or being put in refugee camps, where International Aid workers have been denied teh chance to help in fear of attacks from the militias.

And tell anyone you keep in touch with to go to this site as well. It takes a few minutes tops. I figured since the only people who read this website are my mom, my sisters, and my old tap dance instructor, we can probably get 15-20 signatures.

(Thanks to Delaware County rock legend Matt Johnson for the link to that site)

Kwaheri Malava/Jambo Nairobi
Anyways, I have a good excuse for why I haven't posted in a while. I actually moved out of Malava. I asked the Sisters if could possibly move to Nairobi, with the hopes of finding my own ministry to volunteer for, and they agreed. I left Malava a few days later for the capital city. I slept on Sandy and Arielle's couch for about 2 weeks, spending most of my time taking showers with running water and studying swahili, then finally found a place in a section of the city called SOuth B. I am staying at NGO's volunteer guest house. So I went from living without running water and good electrcity, to living on a couch/out of a suitcase, to living in a house with running water, electricity, and even television (Kenyan television= awful Kenyan sitcoms and rap videos).

The NGO is called the DKA Support Group, and they actually ran our orientation for the first week that I was in Nairobi. It's hard to explain how many people this organization helps. One of their largest projects, the MSDP (Mukuru Slum Development Project), consists of multiple programs to help the residents of the Mukuru slums. They provide art projects/soccer leagues for the street kids, counseling for people who are HIV positive, and economic empowering projects, giving out loans to help people try to start a business venture (selling produce, clothing, etc). I am help working with MUSA, the Mukuru Sports Association, which basically means I get to play soccer every afternoon.

And in the mornings, nafundisha. That is swahili for "I teach". I am working at St. Mary's Secondary School, which is located in the Kingston section of the Mukuru slum. I am teaching form 3 (high school juniors) English. The first day was very intimidating, to say the least. I asked that for my first day, I could just sit in class and watch how the teacher conducted his lesson. Unfortunately, like most schools in slum areas, St. Mary's is severely underfunded, and the forty kids in the classroom share 7 text books. That's right: 40 kids, 7 textbooks. So after class, I asked the principal if I could bring in some of my own reading material for the class, and base my lesson around that. He thought it was a great idea, so I went downtown, got online, and printed out 40 copies of the bio of Wayne Rooney, one of the best soccer players in the world.

The kids loved it. I even got 15 good vocab words out of the bio, and they will be quizzed on their definitions next week. So after the first lesson, I let the kids decide who they wanted to read about next. Some suggestions from the students:
-Akon
-Nas
-Ludacris
-Beyonce
-Celine Dion*****
-50 Cent
-Snoop Dog
-UB40*****
-Tupac
-Rihanna

(*****=For some reason that is way beyond my realm of understanding, artist is extremely popular among Kenya's youth, which is simultaneously ridiculous/hilarious)

It was unanimous: Tupac Shakur will the subject of our next lesson. The kids should be honored that a feller as gangsta as myself will droppin Tupac's street knowledge to them (side note: I learned all of my gangsta ways by watching Tricia Brophy and Tim Valentine). It should be a good time. The kids are great, and I am hoping that it will be a fun semester. The only thing that I am not looking forward to is when, if at all, more textbooks come in and I have to try and teach these kids about transitive verbs, predicate adjectives, and indirect objects.

Here are some good shots I have of life in Malava. I have to admit, I have already started miss the place. It is an absolutely beautiful village. Rural life is very laid back and easy, and I grew accustomed to the simple lifestyle. Life in Nairobi is basically the opposite of life in Malava. The most noticeable differences, besides the option of showering, is the sights. The people of western Kenya are extremely poor, but they live on acres of farmland, growing their crops, and they have nice little huts, and their nice, chill lifestyle. You wouldn't notice the abstract poverty without working directly with the villagers for an extended period of time.

In Nairobi, however, the poverty is unbelievably blatant: the pollution, the overcrowdedness, the street kids/homeless people everywhere on the streets/the milllions of people forced to live in the horrific conditions of the slums. Walking around Nairobi is quite the experience. I feel blessed that I am getting the chance to experience both the rural life and the urban life of Kenya. Napenda (I like) Kenya.

I'll shut up now. Enjoy the view.

This is Samuel. He is the night security guard at the St. Julie Center. His job is to sit in a shack next to the Center from 6pm-6am every night. Interesting fact about Samuel: he has multiple wives. I heard he's been on the prowl for another, so if any of you ladies back home are interested, I'll put in a good word.

One of Malava's busiest intersections

Cows doing what they do best: straight chillin (that tree is damn cool)

My neighbor's hut

Father and son herding cattle



Take your idea of what a dive bar is and throw it out the window. Then again, that's if you consider this a bar. It's basically a shack made of mud, manure, and wood, that has a guy sitting in a corner selling beer

Dusk in Malava was always a sight to behold

Life as an inadequate athletics instructor

I have been getting many requests to post some shots of my glory days as assistatant basketabll coach at Malava Boys Secondary School. I remember talking about how we didn't have a basketball net to play with, so we just played keep away every day. To everyone's suprise, the school put a net up a couple of weeks before the final tournament in Kakamega. We didn't make to the provincial torunament, because we placed 6th in Kakamega, and only the top 4 teams make it. But the season was a blast. The students at Malava Boys were some of the coolest kids I have ever met.

This is actually a pic of a bunch of students. Malava Boys hosted track and field events one Saturday morning, so I went over to support the squad.

This Bolton, Jack, Mikey, Walter, and two kids from the field hockey team. Yes, the men's field hockey team.

Very cool shot taken by one of my players

This is the head coach Abner making a weird face

One thing that I felt was necessary for the guys to learn is tap drills. It's when you have two lines, one line on each side of the rim. The first guy, standing right under the basket, throws the ball off his side of the backboard and runs to the back of the line, so the guy behind him can catch the ball in mid air and do the same. Sounds pretty easy right? I wish I had this on video. Basketballs were flying over fences, into trees, and even hitting volleyball players on the field next to us in the face. To maintain some type of order, Abner and I decided that the person responsible for messing up the tap drill was required to do ten push ups

This is me starting tap drills. See that ball flying in the distance behind the basket? Yea, lots of push ups were handed out that day

This me laughing because I messed up the tap drill and had to do ten push ups. I was laughing to hide the deep fear that I wouldnt be able to do ten push ups

This is me about to buckle after push up number 3. The kid to the right of me is named......well I actually never knew his real name. Everyone called him fat boy, or fatty, or sometimes just fat. Why? Because he was the self-proclaimed "fatest kid in all of Kenya." Fat actually told me that when he finishes secondary school, he is moving to New Orleans to live with his uncle, and is going to see if he can make it as a competitive eater. (seriously)

Alan striking a pose

Chesoli just realizing that he's going to have to do ten push ups. The background in this picture is awesome

This is me generously sharing my vast knowledge of basketball with one of the youngins. The kids knew I was the real deal the second I stepped onto the court (court= patch of dirt and rocks). Any time I spoke, they listened intently, knowing how profound every word that came out of my mouth was.

Me: "you see, Kelion, the key to a balanced offensive attack consists of two things: motion and spacing. If all of the offensive players are standing around in the same area, it will be easy for the defense to take control. But if all five players are spread out and moving the ball quickly, the defense will be caught off guard, giving us chances for open shots and even lay ups."

Kelion: "your hair is disgusting."

(awkward silence)

Me: "Give me 5,000 push ups."


New Crib

Ok, so that whole thing about living in the DKA house was just a hoax. I just wanted my mom to think I had a nice, safe place to live while in Nairobi. I actually got a new place by myself. Iknow what you're thinking: "Keller, how in God's name did you find such an awesome house in short time?" Well, my friends, the answer is that I am sort of a big deal. I am a man with style and class, and I wanted my house to exude those qulaities. The price is irrelevant. What I want, I get. The landlord thought he was going to boss me around and give me a MUZUNGU price, but I said "EH BUANA, SI TAKI (Hey Mister, I don't want) MUZUNGU PRICE!" AFter that line, he knew I meant business. I got a good deal shortly afterwards.

There isn't any bathroom facilities, but landlord said I could use the neighbor's lawn, Initially, I though that was comepletely distasteful, but the landlord then told me that the neighbor's house was a convent, so they would learn to forgive me. And that big red roof behind me is a gas station. I don't own a car, but in case I ever wanted to light something on fire, I won't have to go far to score some petrol.

Kuku/ Webuye Falls/ Rescue Dada

Kukus
Ok so this pic is of me holding the first two kukus (swahili for chickens) that we had as pets. I know it looks like I am holding a mutated two-headed kuku, but there are definitely two kukus there, they are just tied together. The one on the right was named Henjamin Franklin, and the one on the left was named Punky Rooster.
Unfortunately, we no longer have either kuku. Henjamin died a horrible death with an intestinal infection, at least that's what Maurice told us she had. Everyone took this pretty hard, but especially Punky. He was lonely without his lady friend. A few days after the funeral, Punky mysteriously vanished, and by "vanished" I mean "became dinner for the neighbors who live behind us." (seriously, our neighbors stole him and ate him).

Webuye Falls

Arielle came down to Malava with her sister and cousin, who were visiting from the states. She wanted to show them where we work, and also the beauty of western province. Webuye is a tiny village about 15 kilometers north of Malava, and supposedly there is a spot where they have great waterfalls. We found them after a forty minute walk from the bus stop

This shot is great. Rain season in western province is crazy. Rain can literally be pouring on your right shoulder, while the left side of your face is getting roasted by the hot sun

Me and Ar

Rescue Dada
The ST. Julie Center was closed for two weeks so the head therapists could go on home visits, so I decided to head to Nairobi. I had the pleasure of visiting Sandy and Arielle where they work. It is called Rescue Dada and is a center that helps girls from the streets/slums. Fortunately for me, I visited on field day, so I thought I was going to be able to show the youngins some of my football skills. I was way off.


Here I am being very upset because it was totally my turn to punt the ball and that selfish little brat stole it from me

This is me completely lacking in ball-handling skills and using the strong-arm technique on a 13 year-old girl to cheat my way to victory

The shot is was taken literally one second before I fell over and started crying. (side note:did anyone notice the girl in the background doing the Monty Python high step?)

Sandy getting a piggy-back ride

Arielle and one of her babies

Coolest girls ever

Rescue Dada

Here I am struggling to pick up a 40-pound girl

For this shot, Arielle told me to pick one of the girls up, but this time don't make a face that will make me look like a complete moron. Obviously, I failed.

Home Visits

So Tim and I have had the privilege of being invited as guests to the homes of some of our friends. It is an amazing experience to see how many Kenyans live.

The first home we visited belonged to Maurice. The place where I stay is on the local catholic church grounds, so the pastor, Fr. Paul, is my landlord, and Maurice is one of his handymen. Maurice is a great guy and is always willing to help me and Tim with anything. He invited to his home in the village of Shitoli, and we happily accepted. He lives pretty far away, on the other side of Kakamega, so we went early on a Sunday.

The second home we visited belonged to a fellow co-worker named Tom. He runs the farm at the St. Julie Center, and also works on the farm at the Sisters' house. He lives in a village called Misungu, which when pronounced sounds exactly like MUZUNGU, which I hear every time I leave the house, because it means "white man" (for example: "Hey muzungu, your red hair is scaring my child. Please go away so I can tell her that the devil has left and she is now safe"). Anyways, the village isn't too far from Malava, probably 15 kilometers at the most.

I don't know if I have explained this already, but Kenya's western province is mostly rural, so there are only a few paved roads in the ENTIRE province. I happen to live right off one. The roads don't have names, they just take the name of the big towns they pass by, so I live on Kakamega-Eldoret Road. Now, even when you are travelling down a paved road, you hardly see anything. Every couple of kilometers you will pass a row of stores in one of the bigger villages like Kakunga, Shamalamala, or even good ole Malava. As you might expect, the area gets unbelievably secluded when you travel off one of the paved roads. We call anywhere off the main road "inside: or "the interior". Before coming to Kenya, I thought Pottstown was the middle of nowhere. I was wrong.

Tom's house is about 10 kilometers inside, which compared to other villages isn't that far. Maurice's place was pretty deep though. His lives about 30 kilometers down "the road", then 15 kilometers inside, then when you reach a fork in the path, you go left and proceed another 10 kilometers.

The cool thing about the interior is that everything is so scenic. Everywhere you turn, there is an amazing landscape. I am lucky enough to have mountains, valleys, rivers and streams, etc. all within walking distance from where I stay. Another cool thing about the interior is seeing people LOSE THEIR MINDS when they see some freakish looking red-haired muzungu walking by their hut and talking to them in Swahili. I mean, I get stares and funny looks in Nairobi, one of the largest and most modern cities in all of Africa. IMAGINE the reactions I get from people who live 30 kilometers away from the nearest electrical line.

Both visits were a blast. We got to walk around and see a decent amount of both Shitoli and Misungu. Both men have great families, and live in huts on large farms that they share with their brothers. I couldn't help but laugh at the fact that I was sitting in a hut drinking beer and eating freshly slaughtered chicken, while dogs were chasing live chickens around the hut while we ate. The kids were hilarious. By the looks on their faces, you could tell they were both scared and confused, thinking "what in God's name did my dad bring home?" Eventually, though, they warmed up to us, and we had a blast.

This pic was taken on the walk to Maurice's house. Rural Kenya is beautiful

Last night's dirty dishes and tomorrow night's dinner

Next week's dinner. Don't cry, I am just kidding. Maurice has guard dogs to protect his family and farm at night, and they had some pups

Here's a pic of me with Maurice's (from left) neighbor, mother, brother, Maurice himself, wife, and children. It's probably hard to spot me in the picture. I am in the back row, second-in on the right

Me and the kids

This is one of the coolest things I have seen since coming to Africa. On the walk back to the main road from Maurice's home, we heard what sounded like a drum circle in the distance. Maurice knew exactly what it was and decided that it was something Tim and I had to see. ANy idea what these kids are doing?????

The answer is collecting termites. Kenyans uses termites for food, because they are great sources of protein. So what these kids do to collect termites is first dig holes in the ground. Then they sit around and bang on the ground with sticks, and every so often pour water down the holes, giving the termites the impression that it's raining outside. This makes the termites come up from the ground, and they kids catch them and sell them at the market. Very very cool.

Trying out the local delicacy

I got the feeling that me eating one of their termites made their day

Tom and Tim on our walk through the village of Misungu

Here's a girl I met in the village. I told her before I leave Kenya, this muzungu will come back to Misungu and give her this picture.

Tom's cousin, daughter, and wife

Tom's brother and nephew, workin hard

And here are Tom's nieces and nephews:

"Remember when you were young? You shone like the sun."

-Pink Floyd