So, a while back in Ongata Rongai, Mary told me that my Kikuyu name was Wanjiku (a common Kikuyu name) because I reminded her of her daughter Wanjiku. She called me that once in a while as a bit of a joke. When I got to Nyeri I had told Aneta that she could call me Lied or Wanjiku and she chose the latter. The eldest girl calls me Lied but everyone else in that household calls me 'Shiko' (short for Wanjiku). At first I didn't answer to it all that well but now I'm used to it and I like it.
Re: the pigs. "I don't keep pigs personally". This was in response to the question "Do you keep pigs there where you live?". Because agriculture is such a vital part of most people's lives people ask me a lot of questions about the farms in the U.S. I try to explain that there are relatively few farmers and even the people who have gardens buy most of their food at stores.
I'm looking forward to coming home and am excited that it's less than 2 weeks away now. I've really enjoyed my time here but it will be so RELAXING to not be an anamoly. In general, I feel I'm pretty good-natured about answering questions and people are by in large very friendly but gosh it can get tiring being this different-looking, foreign person. I am reminded that I would not care to be famous. I also have a glimpse of how terrible it must be to be part of a stigmatized population whose 'difference' (such as skin color, physical, or even mental disability) is easily spotted. The attention I get walking down the street, in a car, in a store is positive but it's easy to be tired and frustrated by it. I can only imagine what it must feel like to get that kind of negative attention. But I have to admit that just when I feel as if I can not meet yet another new person and answer the same questions, I find myself in conversation with an interesting person who has a really different perspective on what's happening here in Kenya or who asks me some unusual questions that bear thinking about.
Today at the Red Cross we went to deliver a body of a boy who had died at a camp in Nakuru to his family's home here in Nyeri. The boy died of spinal tuberculosis in the camp. His immediate family was also at the camp and today all of them returned home with the body to bury it on extended family land. He was 17. It was very sad. True to Kenyan tradition though, before 12! Red Cross staff were allowed to leave after delivering the body and staying for a short speech and prayer we were served tea and lunch. The lunch was an enormous plate of field corn, beans (githeri) and potatoes AND THEN (just when we thought we were done) rice and carrots. Those who didn't take rice and carrots were yelled at by the shosho (grandmother).
Have I mentioned how beautiful it is here and how much I will miss these wonderful people?
Oh- one more story. My aunt (who lived in Kenya 30 years ago) told me a story some years ago about how she came in to the hospital to teach a class and was late and started to rush off to the class only to be reprimanded for not shaking everyone's hand. It's happened to me too-- now matter if there are 17 people in a room, it is expected that you greet each one with a handshake and a "How are you?". Relationships are way more important than being on time.
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How to catch wild pigs...
There was a professor at a large college that had some exchange students in the class. One day one young man (exchange student) asked a strange question. He asked, “Do you know how to catch wild pigs?"
The professor thought it was a joke and asked for the punch line. The young man said this was no joke. “You catch wild pigs by finding a suitable place in the woods and putting corn on the ground. The pigs find it and begin to come everyday to eat the free corn. When they are used to coming every day, you put a fence down one side of the place where they are used to coming. When they get used to the fence, they begin to eat the corn again and you put up another side of the fence. They get used to that and start to eat again. You continue until you have all four sides of the fence up with a gate in the last side. The pigs, used to the free corn, start to come through the gate to eat, you close the gate on them and catch the whole herd.
The wild pigs have lost their freedom, they run around and around inside the fence, but they are caught. Soon they go back to eating the free corn. They are so used to it that they have forgotten how to forage in the woods for themselves, so they accept their captivity.
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