Adventures in Cow Dung Huts

Habere all. Week 3 here at Kilimanjaro Bush Camp, which we lovingly call Jurassic Park on good days, and Kenyan jail on the others, has been quite hopping. This week we started going out into the field for our research project. This entails me, and another student, trekking out into the african savannas and a maasai translator. We are dressed akin to duffel bags ps, and we are knocking on cow dung huts and the such to gather data on access to water. It is most definitely the most random thing I have ever done, but in the process you get absolutely submerged within the culture. For the vast majority, the families we are interviewing have been amazing, having chai with them, you learn so much. The kids are hilarious. If I have learned one thing about my time in Africa, it is that bubbles are universal. I am usually found walking across the hills with a brood of about 20 or so little ones parading behind me, it is quite the sight. 

Whenever we are let out of the camp, we love unwinding at the local watering hole Club Kimana, run by the local chief, it is quite stellar. I severely underestimated my appreciation for warm beer. 

The staff here is fantastic and hilarious. Their depth of knowledge on life here is beyond, and I am constantly asking hundreds of questions. We amuse ourselves through silly games and antics, and they of course take part. Example, we are having Banda Idol on monday. Our local Maasai guru, Sipaya, duka master, Abdi, and chef expert Arthur, will be serving as our lead singers in our own signature version of  "American Boy." Not to fret, video to shortly follow. 

It is so funny, but at times I forget where I am, working with a number of BU kids, but then I look around, see Kili, or have a chat with an escari or pass galloping giraffes on the way home, & it all comes back. La la Salama