May 26th, 2010. I was on a plane headed for Kenya, with a lay-over in Switzerland. It has been exactly a year since I have left America. In honor of this one year anniversary, I would like to share some numbers and statistics of my experience so far. Here they are:
6 – The number of living chickens hanging upside down on bicycle handles (3 on each side), no doubt headed towards the market for selling.
7 – The record number of full grown people I have seen riding a motorcycle.
35 (2) – The record number of full grown people being carried by a 14-seater matatu (2 babies). The matatu broke down, and as we all got out of the vehicle (I was one of the 5 people standing on the outside door), I realized there were also 8 chickens inside.
Over a dozen – single exposed breasts I have seen from breast-feeding mothers.
6 – the total number of times I have swam in a year.
3 – the number of times I would sometimes swim in a single day.
47 – dead cockroaches I found in my room after two weeks absence.
Infinity – living cockroaches in and around my pit latrine.
60 – the most kilometers I have ever run in one week's time.
60 – the average kilometers I would swim each week for many consecutive weeks of my life.
3 – The number of items I can cross off my bucket list (1. swim in the indian ocean, 2. dream in another language, 3. be on both northern and southern hemispheres of the world at the same time)
1 – The number of strawberries I have eaten.
36 – letters and packages I have mailed, also the number of our starting group.
5 – The number of languages I am greeted in on a daily basis (Kiswahili, English, Taita, Duruma, Kamba)
1500 – liters of water I have used total in 10 months of being at my site. This doesn't include my water use when I travel to Nairobi or other cities, but it comes out to about 5.5 liters per day.
365 – The number of days I have been outside America.
426 – approximate number of days I have left until my service is through.
1 – times I have sincerely longed to be home.
0 – times I have regretted my decision to join the Peace Corps.
Thursday, May 26, 2011
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Betty Crocker
Since I've lived in Kenya, I have only been cooking for myself. Nearly everything I cook is from my local open-air market with fresh fruits, vegetables, and legumes. Corn and wheat flour, spaghetti noodles, and other things I find in the larger supermarkets or small storefronts. I cook a small array of dishes, from spaghetti with home-made tomato sauce, tortillas with guacamole, coconut rice and beans, or the local dish of fried kale and “ugali.” I cannot say I am much of a cook though, since I prefer quantity over quality and healthy over delicious if I had to choose. Luckily I have access a variety of spices, so if I somehow go wrong in the cooking process, I douse my meal with my local favorites.
Cooking here is quite a process. It takes me nearly half an hour just cutting the onions, tomatoes, and other vegetables, or peeling carrots and potatoes with my knife. If I am pressed for time, I usually opt to cook the “ugali” and fried kale, because once the vegetables are cut it is just 15 minutes until the food is ready to eat.
This past Sunday for lunch I had run out fresh food to prepare myself, so I shuffled through my storage box for something to eat. With luck I found a packet of “Betty Crocker” instant mashed potatoes, and another packet of instant gravy. I flipped the packet and read the directions which instructed me to boil water and add the contents, then stir for one minute. The gravy sauce packet actually took less time than that. After 2 minutes had passed, I had a steaming, creaming plate of mashed potatoes and gravy.
I chuckled to myself at how quickly it all happened. Being used to at least a half-hour's preparation before any meal, I felt like I somehow cheated. I even looked around my empty room, as if searching for confirmation that the food was ready. I decided I should share some with my neighbors as a cultural experience, showing them the empty packets and telling them that this is how American food is.
I was astounded at the taste. Despite the assurance from Betty Crocker herself that the mashed potatoes were “REAL” as written on the package, the taste was so foreign to me still. Just as one can taste the difference in aspartame or some other synthesized, non-calorie sweetener compared to the real granules of sugar, the packaged food instantly betrayed itself to my senses. I had become so used to real unadulterated foods, I found myself loath to finishing the instant potatoes and gravy. But I did finish them; there are starving children in Africa.
What I realized out of this was not the taste of Betty Crocker's mashed potatoes, but the lifestyle Americans lead that should require instant packaged foods, microwaves, and infomercials that can sell you a “Slap-chop.” Everything Americans do has to be expedited if possible, so that we can do more activities and be more productive throughout our day. Yet here in Kenya, I find myself living completely perpendicular to the fast-paced American life, and I am often frustrated at how I wait long hours for transportation, or how cooking takes a huge chunk of my evening. But the reminder of my American lifestyle made me a little bit sick inside. It seems we want so much out of every minute of our day that we miss many of the subtle flavors in life. We want our crops to grow bigger and tastier, our lines at the grocery store to be shorter, and our fast-food to be faster. I am beginning to think that maybe it's okay to live a little bit slower. Maybe it is okay to take the time to metaphorically cut your vegetables and prepare your food in such a way to make Betty Crocker turn her nose up: both in defiance of your boycott on her instant-mashed potatoes and at the enchanting aroma of your original, heavily spiced creations.
Cooking here is quite a process. It takes me nearly half an hour just cutting the onions, tomatoes, and other vegetables, or peeling carrots and potatoes with my knife. If I am pressed for time, I usually opt to cook the “ugali” and fried kale, because once the vegetables are cut it is just 15 minutes until the food is ready to eat.
This past Sunday for lunch I had run out fresh food to prepare myself, so I shuffled through my storage box for something to eat. With luck I found a packet of “Betty Crocker” instant mashed potatoes, and another packet of instant gravy. I flipped the packet and read the directions which instructed me to boil water and add the contents, then stir for one minute. The gravy sauce packet actually took less time than that. After 2 minutes had passed, I had a steaming, creaming plate of mashed potatoes and gravy.
I chuckled to myself at how quickly it all happened. Being used to at least a half-hour's preparation before any meal, I felt like I somehow cheated. I even looked around my empty room, as if searching for confirmation that the food was ready. I decided I should share some with my neighbors as a cultural experience, showing them the empty packets and telling them that this is how American food is.
I was astounded at the taste. Despite the assurance from Betty Crocker herself that the mashed potatoes were “REAL” as written on the package, the taste was so foreign to me still. Just as one can taste the difference in aspartame or some other synthesized, non-calorie sweetener compared to the real granules of sugar, the packaged food instantly betrayed itself to my senses. I had become so used to real unadulterated foods, I found myself loath to finishing the instant potatoes and gravy. But I did finish them; there are starving children in Africa.
What I realized out of this was not the taste of Betty Crocker's mashed potatoes, but the lifestyle Americans lead that should require instant packaged foods, microwaves, and infomercials that can sell you a “Slap-chop.” Everything Americans do has to be expedited if possible, so that we can do more activities and be more productive throughout our day. Yet here in Kenya, I find myself living completely perpendicular to the fast-paced American life, and I am often frustrated at how I wait long hours for transportation, or how cooking takes a huge chunk of my evening. But the reminder of my American lifestyle made me a little bit sick inside. It seems we want so much out of every minute of our day that we miss many of the subtle flavors in life. We want our crops to grow bigger and tastier, our lines at the grocery store to be shorter, and our fast-food to be faster. I am beginning to think that maybe it's okay to live a little bit slower. Maybe it is okay to take the time to metaphorically cut your vegetables and prepare your food in such a way to make Betty Crocker turn her nose up: both in defiance of your boycott on her instant-mashed potatoes and at the enchanting aroma of your original, heavily spiced creations.
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
Environmentally Friendly
People are bad for the environment. Centuries of economic development have pioneered the raping of the Earth's natural resources, from clearing away dense forest for agriculture and infrastructure to digging in every place imaginable for oil and combustible fuels. But these days, environmental protection has been a popular discussion topic. Words like “Ecological Footprint”, “Climate Change”, and “Greenhouse Gases” have infiltrated our vocabulary like Chinese-made goods and services. Nowadays both individuals and corporations alike are urged to reduce their negative impact on the environment by “going green” and negating their carbon footprint upon the world. Websites offer carbon-footprint calculations, which estimates the level of “tonnage of carbon dioxide” you emit per year.
I am quite aware that developed nations pollute a great deal more than developing ones, and so I decided to compare my lifestyle from America to how I live now by using one of these online carbon footprint tests. It asked questions concerning the car I drive, the flights I've taken, my household electricity & gas usage, my culinary habits, my purchasing & recycling habits, and a list of other miscellaneous subjects. Here's how it turns out:
Car
In the year before I came to Kenya, I would drive 60 to 80 miles a day going to and from work, running various errands, or visiting certain people, and I would often make those trips all alone. Now I walk and bike everywhere, or take public transportation if the place is too far. Even public transportation vehicles are packed to the maximum carrying capacity. In Southern California, you qualify for the “carpool lane” by having just 2 or more people in the car. Kenya redefines “carpooling” by carrying 30 passengers (and often chickens and goats) in a 14-seat van.
Water
I remember back in college our swim team would have 20 showers running full blast for a good 15 to 20 minutes as we relaxed under the massaging pressure of the hot water. And this would happen twice or even three times per day because of multiple swim practices. Gallons and gallons of water were used from our swim team alone. Now I use 1.5 liters of water to bathe. Perhaps I shouldn't admit to this so openly, but often I will bathe every other day. On a given day, I can use a total of 6 to 10 liters of water for cooking, cleaning, bathing and drinking. That is about 2 flushes of a toilet.
Food
In America, I would eat meat for at least two meals a day. Processed foods, candies, and anything that traveled for 100 miles or further to my supermarket, I was very likely to purchase. But in Kenya, I have given vegetarianism a try (it is really hard to preserve meats and cheeses with ridiculous-hot temperatures and no refrigeration) and all my food comes less than 10 kilometers away.
Recycling
I've always hated plastic bottles and things, and believed firmly in recycling back in the States, but here in Kenya, I take recycling to a whole new level. I reuse everything until it disintegrates here. If I buy a loaf of bread, I reuse the flimsy plastic bag it comes in when I go to the market so the mamas do not have to use one of their own bags for the vegetables I purchase (not only do these mamas save a quarter of a shilling, it gets me talking with them about how plastic materials are bad for the environment). Hefty grocery bags from the bigger supermarkets are like valued gems to me, and they get well used before they are discarded (burned).
Energy
I have two lights in my home. Both have energy-saving light-bulbs in them, and I use one for maybe 3 hours every night. I do have a socket for powering/charging things, and I usually use my computer for a couple hours daily. I have a reading light that is charged with a solar cell. My current net energy use is marginal at most, and it's actually not too different from how I lived back in the states.
Travel
The trip to and from Kenya from Los Angeles was an ecological killer. Just in a round trip ticket I accounted for more than half of my total emissions for two years (2.66 tons of carbon dioxide).
Over its lifetime an average tree can sequester or absorb about 1 ton of carbon dioxide. Americans emit an average of 20 tons of carbon dioxide per year. Because trees don't begin to be much use in negating carbon dioxide until they reach adolescence, 6 trees need to be planted for every ton of carbon dioxide emitted (and each tree must survive for its lifespan). Therefore, Americans should plant 120 trees per year on average to wipe their carbon footprint clean.
The going rate of a ton of carbon on the open market is about $5.50. Instead of emitting the 40 tons of carbon dioxide I should have by living in the states, I am at a grand total of 5.7 for the two years I'll be living here. It doesn't sound like all that much, but the U.S. Government gets an average environmentally-based financial benefit of $188.65 for just me, and I can imagine similar figures for every other Peace Corps volunteer.
But the average Kenyan has a footprint of 0.31 tons per year. Even excluding my flight here and back, I emit three times more than the average for this country.
When I lived in America, there is such a disconnect between being responsible with the use of resources and the effect it has on others. But here I see a little bit more clearly how I am impacting the lives of others. As an example, water is a major problem where I live. The roads are constantly filled with people carrying their water for long distances. Groups of mamas walk together with their 20 liter jerry can on their head, talking to each other to keep them cheerful. Grimacing young boys wheel bicycles with 60 liters strapped to the back (20 gallons) uphill through sandy patches of road. In light of this, I find it difficult to waste even a drop of water. If the rains come, it is all hands on deck for me, as I put out every basin and pot that I own to catch the drops of rain from my corrugated iron roof. Though I am able to get water at the nearby school, I conserve as much as possible because I know that the more I draw water from the school, the less others will have. And generally speaking, the more resources I use, the more of a strain I place on resources as a whole. The longer I live here, the more convicted I feel of the decadence I used to live. It makes me reevaluate how I want to continue living should I get back to the states.
I am quite aware that developed nations pollute a great deal more than developing ones, and so I decided to compare my lifestyle from America to how I live now by using one of these online carbon footprint tests. It asked questions concerning the car I drive, the flights I've taken, my household electricity & gas usage, my culinary habits, my purchasing & recycling habits, and a list of other miscellaneous subjects. Here's how it turns out:
Car
In the year before I came to Kenya, I would drive 60 to 80 miles a day going to and from work, running various errands, or visiting certain people, and I would often make those trips all alone. Now I walk and bike everywhere, or take public transportation if the place is too far. Even public transportation vehicles are packed to the maximum carrying capacity. In Southern California, you qualify for the “carpool lane” by having just 2 or more people in the car. Kenya redefines “carpooling” by carrying 30 passengers (and often chickens and goats) in a 14-seat van.
Water
I remember back in college our swim team would have 20 showers running full blast for a good 15 to 20 minutes as we relaxed under the massaging pressure of the hot water. And this would happen twice or even three times per day because of multiple swim practices. Gallons and gallons of water were used from our swim team alone. Now I use 1.5 liters of water to bathe. Perhaps I shouldn't admit to this so openly, but often I will bathe every other day. On a given day, I can use a total of 6 to 10 liters of water for cooking, cleaning, bathing and drinking. That is about 2 flushes of a toilet.
Food
In America, I would eat meat for at least two meals a day. Processed foods, candies, and anything that traveled for 100 miles or further to my supermarket, I was very likely to purchase. But in Kenya, I have given vegetarianism a try (it is really hard to preserve meats and cheeses with ridiculous-hot temperatures and no refrigeration) and all my food comes less than 10 kilometers away.
Recycling
I've always hated plastic bottles and things, and believed firmly in recycling back in the States, but here in Kenya, I take recycling to a whole new level. I reuse everything until it disintegrates here. If I buy a loaf of bread, I reuse the flimsy plastic bag it comes in when I go to the market so the mamas do not have to use one of their own bags for the vegetables I purchase (not only do these mamas save a quarter of a shilling, it gets me talking with them about how plastic materials are bad for the environment). Hefty grocery bags from the bigger supermarkets are like valued gems to me, and they get well used before they are discarded (burned).
Energy
I have two lights in my home. Both have energy-saving light-bulbs in them, and I use one for maybe 3 hours every night. I do have a socket for powering/charging things, and I usually use my computer for a couple hours daily. I have a reading light that is charged with a solar cell. My current net energy use is marginal at most, and it's actually not too different from how I lived back in the states.
Travel
The trip to and from Kenya from Los Angeles was an ecological killer. Just in a round trip ticket I accounted for more than half of my total emissions for two years (2.66 tons of carbon dioxide).
Over its lifetime an average tree can sequester or absorb about 1 ton of carbon dioxide. Americans emit an average of 20 tons of carbon dioxide per year. Because trees don't begin to be much use in negating carbon dioxide until they reach adolescence, 6 trees need to be planted for every ton of carbon dioxide emitted (and each tree must survive for its lifespan). Therefore, Americans should plant 120 trees per year on average to wipe their carbon footprint clean.
The going rate of a ton of carbon on the open market is about $5.50. Instead of emitting the 40 tons of carbon dioxide I should have by living in the states, I am at a grand total of 5.7 for the two years I'll be living here. It doesn't sound like all that much, but the U.S. Government gets an average environmentally-based financial benefit of $188.65 for just me, and I can imagine similar figures for every other Peace Corps volunteer.
But the average Kenyan has a footprint of 0.31 tons per year. Even excluding my flight here and back, I emit three times more than the average for this country.
When I lived in America, there is such a disconnect between being responsible with the use of resources and the effect it has on others. But here I see a little bit more clearly how I am impacting the lives of others. As an example, water is a major problem where I live. The roads are constantly filled with people carrying their water for long distances. Groups of mamas walk together with their 20 liter jerry can on their head, talking to each other to keep them cheerful. Grimacing young boys wheel bicycles with 60 liters strapped to the back (20 gallons) uphill through sandy patches of road. In light of this, I find it difficult to waste even a drop of water. If the rains come, it is all hands on deck for me, as I put out every basin and pot that I own to catch the drops of rain from my corrugated iron roof. Though I am able to get water at the nearby school, I conserve as much as possible because I know that the more I draw water from the school, the less others will have. And generally speaking, the more resources I use, the more of a strain I place on resources as a whole. The longer I live here, the more convicted I feel of the decadence I used to live. It makes me reevaluate how I want to continue living should I get back to the states.
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