shirazi.

our rural village stay was in shirazi. from mombasa its a short ferry ride, and 1-2 hours (depending on cattle in the road, traffic, police, etc.) by bus. on the way I joked that if I wasn't living in a thatched hut with coconut trees around I'd be disappointed. as we drove farther away from "civilization" the aluminum roofs became fewer and the thatch more prevalent. we rolled into shirazi and it was thatch and palm as far as the eye could see.

the village chills right on the edge of a mangrove forest on the indian ocean. monkeys hop around the trees and kids climb palm trees for coconuts. there was no running water and no electricity. most of the houses were made of mud and wood, and the roofs were all palm fronds. incidentally, I learned how to make roof from palm fronds so should I find myself in a "survivor/castaway" type situation I'll starve to death but at least I won't get rained on.

we lived with host families and mine was a trip. they were really young, I didn't ask how young for fear I'd be older than them both. the patriarch's name was rengwa, his wife was subira and their three month old daughter's name was mwanajuma. nice enough people but it was a weird situation. I'm fairly convinced the mother was suffering some sort of post-partem depression, she was clearly not super stoked on her life. her baby cried all the time. rengwa was sort of your typical african male (yeah, I'm generalizing, but unfortunately the stereotypes hold true here in most cases, I've found, especially in rural areas.) he told me he was a business man but I never saw him work. he did none of housework. he was there when I left for class and there when I returned, but never seemed to do much of anything. he wanted to know where I was all the time, and wanted me home as soon as class was over - needless to say I found the bossy, overbearing, controlling attitude obnoxious, offensive and tiresome.

this is not to say the entire experience wasn't fantastic. I learned a lot. my swahili improved greatly, helped along by the fact that subira spoke next to no english. she taught me how to carry water on my head (they never gave me a full bucket, cause I was so bad at it) and how to make chapati, which I wasn't very good at either. the extended family lived in huts near eachother and everyone would crowd around to watch me fail at every domestic task. they thought it was hilarious. I believe we all arrived at the same unspoken conclusion: I would make a terrible african housewife.

we went swimming in the indian ocean nearly every day after class. its as warm as bath water. we traveled to place called paradise lost, a giant sandbar exposed at low tide, I'll post pictures when we get back to nairobi, you won't believe it. and I saw BUBBLER CRABS, like the ones in planet earth. I freaked out and took a million pictures, the other students thought I was nuts.

we had three hours of swahili in the morning in the madrasa next to the local mosque. they were all muslims which was an interesting experience as they were fasting for ramadhan when we arrived. we celebrated eid in the village which was a day of celebrations, lots of singing and eating.

I've never eaten so much coconut in my entire life. the moment I arrived I had a fresh coconut to drink/eat in hand. and that didn't stop the entire week, pretty amazing. the whole place often reminded me of the corona ads, if only we'd had beach chairs.

fishing is a major was of life in the village and they fish from canoes made of gutted trees. I ate so much fried fish I thought I would bust. in fact I ate so much fried food I'm rather amazed my clothes still fit (although I've literally only worn a tie-dye mumu since arriving in mombasa so who knows; ah the mumu, nothing more flattering than a dress shaped like a sack of potatoes, I look good.) everything there is fried. fried twice and while you're making it you make sure to knead in more oil. not sure what that was about, my guess is they need all the calories they can get.

the world food program is in shirazi. the primary school children don't return home for lunch, they are fed maize porridge at school. we ate well in shirazi but its unclear whether or not they always eat that well. we brought a lot of food with us and I know every family received a daily stipend for hosting us.

it was a long ten days. I can rough it pretty well, like all alaskan kids, but village life is something entirely different. all us girl got dressed by the village women every morning, and wearing eight layers of cotton or polyester when its 95 degrees out and humid is not my idea of a good time. I took at least two bucket showers a day, and three if I could, and was still sweaty constantly. if I'd had it my way I'd have worn my swimsuit constantly, but as they're muslims that would have been indecent. I was only allowed to wear shorts for my jog in the morning, at 5 am, before the sun and people were up.

it was nice to come back to mombasa, for showers, internet and the comfort of the mumu. mombasa compared to nairobi has many perks: less pollution, less dangerous, and SWIMMING. plus we're living in a hostel which means no host family, which means more freedom. we'll be here for another week, then its back to nairobi.