The refugees on my street corner. I ain’t talking about the rap group, I’m talkin’ about real ones, from Somalia… just chillin’ on the corner of my street. I’m not sure if they sleep there, because they’re gone when I leave for work in the morning, but they do have blankets. I guess it makes sense, because the United Nations High Commission for Refugees (Somalia Mission) is just down the street. I’m not sure why I’ve never seen them until recently, because my new apartment is just a block from my old place. Lately I’ve even seen them cooking food on wood fires. It’s obviously very awkward for me when I walk by them because I usually have a big bag of groceries.
Reflections
It’s hard to believe that five months ago I was living in Tala, working as a VSO volunteer. Life was good then, simple — I was living in a rural area of Kenya, hakuna matata (no problems). I didn’t particularly enjoy teaching, but I loved my colleagues and the pole pole (slow) life was easy to get used to. Teaching was a great experience, and sure it was challenging, but I just didn’t enjoy it. I want to be the guy hacking the computers, not the guy writing about hacking computers on a blackboard!
Life at ILRI has been great since I started in August, 2009. I wear khakis and a collared shirt once or twice a week, and jeans and a t-shirt the other days. I’ve worn a hat before and nobody seemed to mind, but I promise I won’t make a habit of it. Scientists at ILRI are all brilliant, and I’m learning new things about molecular biology and bioinformatics every day. I’ve always had a hobby interest in science, and it’s fun to be surrounded around “real” scientists.
The Joy of Cooking And the Silliness of Shopping
Since I moved into my new house last week I’ve been exploring cooking again. It’s been a few months since I cooked last, instead I’ve been opting to eat out or make simple things like toast with peanut butter. It was fine with me because I eat something healthy like yogurt with granola before work, then a good, hearty meal at ILRI’s cafeteria every day — meals at home were more of a casual “tide myself over until lunch tomorrow” thing. All other reasons aside, I guess it really boils down to not feeling “at home” in my old apartment. The stove was only 1/4 functional, the pots and pans were funny, the sink was dinky, and there were always people coming and going.