Triunfo del Amor

Oh. My. Goodness.

Last night, I witnessed the most amazing television program in existence. My friend Fr. John invited me to join him after dinner to watch a Spanish soap opera with him, and who could have know what was in store!

This is the plot that I gleaned from about 10 minutes of watching: When Victoria was young, she got pregnant and gave birth to Maria. The father of the child entered the seminary and his mother tried to kill the baby by hitting her with a car. Now, Maria works for Victoria, but neither of them know they are related. The father (who is now a “Father”) found out about the whole situation when his mother told him about it, but she said it during confession, so he can’t tell anyone about it (except, apparently, the senior priest, with whom he discusses it at length within earshot of- wait for it- his mother!). In the mean time, Maria is grown up and is in love with Max, and the have a child together and they’re going to get married. BUT their friend Alonzo has been very good to them and has saved Maria’s life and he is going to die in one month or less! (The disease is unnamed, but the symptoms include squinting, and uncontrollable head-clutching.) Max selflessly insists that Maria marry Alonzo, since both Max and Maria want nothing more than for Alonzo to be happy, and it will only be for a month (we can all tell how that’s going to go). Maria, after a quick series of highly emotional flashbacks, realizes for the first time that Alonzo is in love with her, so she agrees to Max's plan. Also, Victoria has just returned to work at her fashion design company after “not being around much” for a couple of weeks, during which time she was diagnosed with badly advanced breast cancer, had a mastectomy, went through chemotherapy treatments, and is now completely cancer-free, back to her full health, and ready to dive back into her work.

None of this is a particular stretch for the soap genre, but couple it with the added camp of being a Spanish soap, and the fact that all of the dialogue is dubbed (badly) into English with exaggerated American accents, and you’ve got a real winner. (Oh! If only you could hear this voice work!) Plus, all of the background songs are still in full Spanish, creating this really bizarre multi-linguistic universe.

As I mentioned, I watched this at the behest of Fr. John, who tries not to miss a single episode (he’s the one who helped fill in some of the back story). He says he likes it because everyone is Catholic and there are some really good “themes”. (Um… ok, Father.) And he takes it super seriously! I started to feel bad about laughing so hard, and try as I might, I could not explain why it was so funny to me.

This morning at breakfast, I was talking to Father Michael (Secretary General) and Father Stephen (Vicar General) about the show, and they both launched into very serious communication about some of the finer plot points, praising the series’ fine story-telling. Fr. Michael said it was just like reading a novel, to which I responded, “What on earth kind of novels are you reading?!” I kindly explained to him that those novels are colloquially known as “Trashy Romance Novels” State-side (back me up on this one, Aunt Nelly). Fr. Stephen proceeded to tell me about a series of movies from Nigeria that are taking Africa by storm, especially among the young people. He assures me that they are “must-see” movies. I can only hope they are a fraction as good/bad as Triunfo del Amor.

Impregnable Fortress

Since I was very young, I have always enjoyed sleeping in enclosed spaces. Bottom bunks were like caves I could burrow into, and the closet at the Mountain House in the Poconos may still be my favorite bedroom of all time. The room I have here is lovely and spacious, but I get tremendous joy from sleeping under a mosquito net. Even with my eyes closed, I can sense it all around me, a barrier of comfort in a strange land. Couple all of this that I am a veritable magnet for mosquitos, and you’ve got yourself one happy Jo. Friends, I think there is no sound sweeter than the angry buzz of a mosquito trying in vain to get through a mosquito net.

Pets

Last night, I dreamt that my cat, Fagan, died. He had gotten some kind of wound on his neck, and by the time I got him to the KSPCA (Kenyan Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals) on Langata Road here in Karen, he was already cold and stiff. There was nothing to be done for him. I very calmly excused myself, and blogged that I was “deep in sorrow”.

Of course, when I woke up, I knew instantly that it had only been a dream. Fagan is much bigger than the cat in the dream, and he is nowhere near the KSPCA. Why my subconscious felt the need to blog about it I’ll never know.

During breakfast this morning, Fr. John asked if I had any dreams during my sleep. My family will tell you that I always have extremely vivid dreams, and I am always eagerly relating them. So I launched into this story about my poor beloved Fagan’s untimely end. By the time I finished, Fr. John was staring at me with the now-familiar look of absolute confusion. “Jo, I do not want to be rude, but that just makes no sense to me. Why do you have a pet cat?”

Ah, yes. Pets, at least the way we Americans think of them, do not exist in East African culture. Yesterday, when Fr. John was showing me where the guard dogs live, I told him about my own dogs, two German Short-Haired Pointers called Pip and Magwitch. When I told him that they live in the house, his jaw nearly dropped to the floor. He told me that sometimes, the white people who live in the area will allow their dogs to ride in the car with them, the thought of which had him shaking his head in disbelief. When showing me the rabbit hutches, he grabbed one by the ear and held it out for me to inspect. I quickly cradled its hind legs with one hand, while gently petting his middle with the other. Fr. John had never seen someone handle a rabbit with such care! When he pointed out the KSPCA from the Matatu, he was quick to say that *this* was not started by Africans.

I can understand his incredulity at our adulation of animals. How can people concern themselves with the welfare of animals when the welfare of humans is at risk all around them? The animals here have their purposes: protection, pest-control, food, income.

But all the same, I am glad that my Fagan is safe and sound back home.

(… he is, right? This wasn’t a malaria-medicine-induced premonition, was it? WAS IT?!?)

Corrupting Africans, one Fat Tuesday at a time

Happy Mardi Gras! Happy Fat Tuesday! Happy Doughnut Day! Happy Faschnacht Day!

For the past 5+ years, this has been a day of great celebration for me and, by extension, those around me. Lent is my favorite season of the year, but I have no qualms about giving Ordinary Time a good send-off. This morning, while taking a walk around the grounds, I asked Fr. John if they did anything special for Mardi Gras here. He looked at me with puzzlement (I can count on this look whenever I tell him about most of our American traditions), and I did my best to explain the concept behind Shrove Tuesday.

This man is a quick learner!

By the time I saw him again in the afternoon, he had concocted a plan for the two of us to celebrate Fat Tuesday. We hopped a Matatu (check out the third paragraph here) to the Galleria Shopping Mall down the road and had us some decadence! First stop: pizza (one of Fr. John's favorite things!)

Then we went to a sports bar and had a couple of beers. You know, because it's Fat Tuesday. I do not know what the future holds, but I am hopeful that Fr. John will not forget the importance of Fat Tuesday!

I had somehow forgotten how much I am force-fed here in Africa. It's allllll coming back (pounds and memories). But how can I turn down such gracious hospitality?

You are not so close to the roosters, but you are near to the goats.

I have arrived! Just 24 hours after leaving my home in Pennsylvania, I arrived at Mazzoldi House in Karen last night. I was greeted at the airport by Fr. Ponciano (a member of last time's welcome wagon), my new friend Fr. John, and of course Fr. Kamanzi. I was thrilled and relieved that all of my luggage and all of its contents arrived safely, especially since I was carrying A LOT of donations thanks to the inspiring generosity of individuals back home.

I was looking forward to moving back into my old room (number 21), which Brother Steven had assured me would be mine as often as I returned, but when we arrived at the house, the Fathers steered me towards the administration house. Friends, I have moved up in the world! Apparently, since I am now a part of the administration of the order (a lay part, but a part all the same), I now have accommodations in the main house! The room is not terribly different in size or layout (which I found comforting), but it is on the other side of the compound from the Guest House, so, as Fr. Kamanzi told me cheerfully, "You are not so close to the roosters, but you are near to the goats." I am happy to say that I was woken up by neither this morning.

Now I am getting reacquainted with the place, which isn't really necessary, since as soon as I arrived it felt as though I had never left. My new friend Fr. John will be my companion and guide throughout my travels in East Africa. He and I spent a few happy hours this morning discussing all of our potential destinations over the next month.

A whole month. My, but that's wonderful!

I am hoping to figure out how to connect my laptop to the internet (I am updating from one of the office computers) so that I can share pictures and update more often. Until then, I will do my best to keep this interesting!

Oh, We're Halfway There

80s rock continues to articulate my every thought!

I am updating from Schiphol Amsterdam Airport where I have 30 glorious minutes of free wifi. My first 8 hour flight went smoothly- let's hope I am as lucky with the second! I have somehow managed to snag window seats for the entire trip, so it can't be too bad. I mean, I wouldn't have said no to another inch or two of leg room, but all in all, flight is pretty amazing.

Louis CK gets it: Everything's Amazing and Nobody's Happy

"Everybody on every plane should constantly be going 'OH MY GOD! WOW!'"

I am so happy to be traveling again. In just 10 or so hours, I will be seeing one of my most favorite people in the world at Jomo Kenyatta Airport in Nairobi.

How I do so very love a grand adventure!

I don't know what my internet access will be like, so I can't make a guarantee of consistent posting. The best I can do is promise to be writing constantly and make the best of whatever bouts of internet I get. Be well!

Here I Go Again On My Own

Thank you, Whitesnake, for saying it best. I am embarking on new travel adventures, and it is time to rouse this tired old blog and take it for a spin!

Since my last post, I have done some traveling. Spain and the Dominican Republic were wonderful, but in just a few days I am returning to my true love: East Africa.

Since January, I have started working for the Apostles of Jesus, the order whose missions I visited in Africa back in June/July, 2010. I am their brand-new "Coordinator of Development and Come & See Mission". That's right folks- I'm livin' the dream! "Come & See" is a mission initiative for people who are interested in visiting Africa. (Yes! That could be you!) I am excited to provide people the opportunity to fall in love with Africa the way that I have.

And I'm ready for ADVENTURE!

At the behest of family and friends, I am going to do my best to keep everyone up to date on my travels through this blog. I am going to be on the move a lot more than last time, so I don't know how often I'll have reliable internet, but I'll do my best to keep you all in the loop.

This trip will be about one month (February 19- March 22), and I'll be covering a few thousand kilometers on East African roads. I should probably go buy a camera.