"Mzungu, this is Africa!"

I am shivering and crouched by a facet in the bathroom of my home-stay. The faucet is spitting out cold water from the wall near my knees, and all I know is there is no other choice but to wash my hair. The problem is if I turn up the pressure, it will leak down the floor into my bedroom. The toilet doesn't flush, and because I have an impeccable sense of smell this is not the optimal of situations. However, I am safe, I am fed, and I have pigs and roosters living right outside the window. I know this because they wake me up every morning at 5:30am.

I arrived in Nairobe at 9:30pm with two other boys from the States. Our driver, James, picked us up and immediately the stench of alcohol exuding from his pores hit us. Perfect! As we arrive to a home-stay, James proceeds inside to argue with the woman of the house. When he appears back outside, he says, "The two boys, you stay here, Jennifer, you come with me." I cannot explain the reaction my body had at that very moment, but I can say that it was bad. While everything in my mental preparation was telling me this was the worst possible idea on the face of this planet earth, with a little assurance from the lady of the home, and a little fear of offending her with my actions, I went with our driver. I'm still alive, so that's a good thing. Oh Africa....

I may be the only person in existence to actually gain weight while I'm in Africa. After day one of Orientation it is almost a certainty that I put on 20 pounds. Chinese lo mein, potatoes, rice, sweet bread, beans, pasta, white bread, need I continue? My first two days here have been spent in Dagoretti Corner, an urban slum outside of Nairobe. Down every pathway is a tin box serving as either a bodega, a house, a chop shop or an electronic store. I walk down the streets to shouts of "Mzunga!"(white person) by little children, who proceed to break into hysterics and run towards me, then away from me just as quickly. Everyone is so friendly and it's surprisingly homey. The colors are vibrant and goats mosey on the street along side of me. It is very alive, and laughter is never very far.

There is a 58 year old Australian man in the house next door to me who is also volunteering. I call him Sydney Steve, though I can't be sure that's even his first name. It's inspiring. I leave for my placement in Nyeri this afternoon. It's a three hour drive, but I hear it's beautiful. I feel as though I've been here for weeks already, and I just find myself wanting more. Smiling is a language all in it's own here, a stark contrast to the streets of New York.