Something for the IMPs

Some of you may know that last year I did a lot of work for Orange when I was with IMP Media. And amongst other things I was involved in multimedia product for them called ZAP!

So you can understand why it made me giggle when I got off the plane and launched my bags onto one of these. And then arrived in Nakuru and was greeted with a plethora of signs advertising ZAP! To be fair - it's not the same ZAP! (it's a mobile network) but still. I was a tad horrified at first but it quickly became a sweet reminder of my fantastic ex-colleagues - now I think of you all every time I'm in town!

P.S. If any of the IMPs know a quick way I can make blogger display these horizontally in a gallery rather than vertically down the page that would be "super handy". 

Bethlehem Butcher also quality signage.

Things to take, things to leave

Before I left the UK, I had a hilarious evening packing with Kat  and Caroline.  Of course I was trying to take too much stuff and couldn't fit it all in my bags so they were helping me veto. For them, this was basically an excuse to take the piss out of me for a good three hours and remind me just what I would miss after I left. Things that were discarded that caused the most hilarity were: a flat headed and cross headed screwdriver ("Oh my god Anna they have tools in Kenya you know") a three way plug extension lead (no actual comment for this one due to too much laughter) and a lovely informal suit jacket ("when on earth are you ever going to wear THAT!").

So, especially for Kat and Caroline, I thought I'd do a quick blog on the things that have proved to be the most useful, and the things I could have really left behind.

The what-would-i-do-without-it list:

 - Swiss army knife. A loan from Caroline. Very handy for chopping up mangos.
- Ear plugs. A gift from Kat. Said I never use them as I can never sleep in them. However when you're separated from a room of 20 girls by what is essentially a piece of cardboard, trust me, you find a way.
- Little grey boots. SO glad I've got these. Great for tromping round in. Getting knackered already but they are loved all the more for it.
- Dynamo torch. Donation from Jaime which I very nearly shunned. Essential for going to the toilet after 8.30pm, or doing anything that's not in my room after 8.30pm (not many lightbulbs here). The kids are also totally fascinated by how you charge it.

The I-haven't-touched-this-in-three-weeks list:

-Nail polish. Yeh, I wear this about once a year in the UK. Not sure what I was thinking there.

- Pretty handbag. I love it, and it reminds me of home but god knows when I'll ever use it.
- Exercise/stretching band. Nice idea. Highly unlikely.

And things-I-wish-I'd-brought:

- Another pair of jeans. Not sure what I would have discarded to fit these in, but have a surplus of tops to bottoms.
- Sports water bottle.
- Griff. Would be dead useful on the farm, that's all...
- A different hair colour. I have a good brown/red two tone going on with my roots at the moment. Nice.

Wherever I am, I love my bed...

A quick hello from inside my mosquito net.

The International Humanity Foundation

 So this is who I'm working for! It's a little charity with a lot of guts. The idea is to help provide education to poor and disadvantaged kids and also to provide education about poverty to those who have had all the advantages life has to offer. There are six IHF centres - four in Indonesia, one in Thailand and one in Kenya. The charity is funded mainly by individuals rather than grants and tries to keep a real ethos of personal communication between the people who support the charity and the kids who benefit from it.

Check out the brand spanking new Facebook page  and our twitter feed.

I'm at the IHF centre in Nakuru, in Kenya. Most of our children come from a region called Pokot. The Pokot tribes at the moment are not far away from starvation and walk hours a day to find water. We go there once a month with some of the kids to provide some emergency food and livestock. It's not much but it helps a bit. There is still real need close to home as well however. Even in Nakuru (Kenya's fourth largest town) kids are fainting in school from hunger. You can read about it here. It's scary being so close to such poverty.

Sick of home and homesickness

One of the main reasons I decided to up sticks and move to Kenya was because I was sick of home. This is said with the greatest love and respect to my friends and family - those closest to me know that I don't mean this in any negative way about them or our relationship. It's a luxury and a priviledge to be able to look at your surroundings and decide you'd like to change it - and be able to do so without much difficulty. I feel very lucky to have moved and know that I have the support of family and friends - and that they'll always be part of my life.

At home, I was sick of everything being as I expected it. I had a very nice, very comfortable life. I knew that I could close my eyes and sleepwalk through my days - and that I'd probably open them 10 years later and wonder where all the time had gone. Many of my friends were making big changes in their lives - deciding to marry, buying houses, having children. Whilst they weren't paths I was interested in taking, I was watching other people move forward into uncertain, exciting new futures. Meanwhile I was moving around in a cosy circle.

Now, I'm certainly out of my litte circle. I'm living in an orphanage, just on the outskirts of Nakuru, Kenya. I get up at 5.30am most days and I wash in a bucket (more on that later). Little kids in the street point, laugh and stare as, even though Nakuru is partly on the Kenyan tourist track, muzungos are still few and far between. I eat beans, maize flour and cabbage most days and constantly smell of mosquito repellent. Am I homesick? Not perhaps in the way most people think about it. I've no desire to return home, I don't miss familiar places, activities or luxuries. I love it here - I love the fact that everyday I'm struggling to figure out how to live, work, play. I love the heat and the landscape and the new places to explore and people to meet. However there is always a little ache - an ache that gets a bit bigger when I'm tired or stressed or hungry, or when I talk to people I love whose lives are moving on without me. It's an ache that I wouldn't want to be without and probably the day I can't feel it anymore is the day I'll know it's time to go home.