Most travelers find themselves, at one point or another, amongst other travelers discussing near-death experiences. I’ve been pretty fortunate. I usually tell a story of a ‘rock climbing’ experience in Wyoming. I came out completely unharmed but it was one of those ‘oh my god I’m on the side of this rock and think I might fall to my death’ type of moments. It was not really a near death experience in the least. Even being robbed at gun point in Nairobi, I (stupidly) had no fear that they were actually going to shoot me, despite the fact that a foreigner and a security guard were shot on my street two weeks earlier.

But this time was different. I hope that I never have that feeling again, that I am truly in my final moments of living. After spending a hot afternoon helping friends in Kigali at a crafts expo, I lugged all of my bags to the airport. It had been a very trying five months in East Africa. Despite a lot of progress on my business and many good times, there were plenty of difficult moments that had tested me mentally, physically, and emotionally. Friends already joked about my string of bad luck. I actually thought that having to check three bags that were all overweight at the Kigali airport to be a challenge and just another way to top off my struggles. Luckily the staff at the airport were patient with me and only gave me a hard time about the weight of my carry-on. I juggled a few items around and felt a huge sense of relief wash over me once my bags were checked. I intended to make several phone calls from the airport but by the time my check-in stuff was sorted, it was time to go through security at the gate and board. I made a super quick phone call to my mom, who had no idea I was about to board a plane. She thought I was leaving the following day, but I wanted to surprise her on Mother’s Day so I quickly told her that I was wrapping up meetings in Kigali and couldn’t chat.

On Saturday night, just after 9pm, we took off on a Brussels Airlines flight bound for Brussels, with a short stop in Entebbe, Uganda to drop off and pick up passengers. It was only an hour flight before we landed in Entebbe. Though it was a completely full-flight, as my ‘good luck’ would have it (yes I really continue to assume that my luck is changing!), the person sitting next to me didn’t show up. Apparently the seat had been booked through to Brussels, so even in Entebbe, my neighboring seat remained empty. I moved from my aisle seat to the window, seated just over the front of the right wing. After our quick stop, we were back up in the air and off to Brussels. I was on my way home and feeling quite tired, I figured I would sleep. However, trying to adjust to the time change at home, I tried really hard to stay awake for a little longer. Even with all of the movie choices and new releases that I had never seen on the video screen in front of me, I chose to watch Ever After, a movie that encompasses the happily ever after we all long for… the kind of movie that’s not too heavy and leaves you with a happy heart at the conclusion. However, I never made it to my happily ever after ending. Less than an hour after we took off from Entebbe, there was a huge thud/bang noise and the ride side of the plane dipped. I bolted straight up. I looked out the window and looked around to fellow passengers. A few others were looking around, but for the most part, people seemed unalarmed. Half were already asleep. I felt the plane descending at a faster rate than it would for landing. I smelled smoke. I saw the crew members bolt down the aisle immediately to the back of the plane. I felt pure and utter panic. But the plane was quiet. Utterly quiet. I tried to tell myself that the smell of smoke wasn’t really smoke but instead the leftover smell of the anti-mosquito spray that they spray on planes before they take off in Africa. But the crew members had bolted and the plane was unsteady. We were descending. The lights flickered and the TVs cut off.  Another crew member brisquely walked by with a handbook in hand. Another was furiously rummaging through a closet. Even though my fellow passengers were murmuring, no one was screaming. I started to panic. I was waiting for the oxygen masks to drop. My whole body was shaking. My legs were shaking so badly that I tried to brace them up against the seat in front of my because I couldn’t make them stop.

I had an internal protest with myself. I proclaimed that I wasn’t ready to die. I thought, ‘Oh dear God, if there is a God, this is not my time. It’s not my time!’ Those thoughts were followed by thoughts that it never really is anyone’s time to die when it is unexpected. I thought of 9-11 and the Boston Marathon bombings and realized that yep, this might really be happening. I wondered if I regretted trying to surprise my mom. Maybe I should have had a longer phone conversation before I hopped on a plane. And then I rationalized that I didn’t want to die in sheer terror. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and told myself that I tried to make the most of life and that I needed to be at peace. And after my rapid succession of thoughts, I felt the plane steady. I didn’t feel like we were descending any longer. I opened my eyes. Still panicked and shaking, I at least thought that there was a chance we were not about to crash.

I looked around again. A woman in my row was crying. Another guy had his head in his hands. I wasn’t going crazy- there really were problems with the plane and others knew it. In times of panic, I can’t really calculate time accurately. But from the time of the thud until the pilot made an announcement was 15-20 minutes by my estimation. Though I think they should have said something sooner, the reality is I don’t think they knew if we were going to be ok… if we were going to make it back to Entebbe. The TV monitors came back on and showed the flight pattern. We had made a U-turn and were already halfway back to Entebbe. It was then that I breathed a huge sigh of relief. If we were headed back to Entebbe, that meant we were going to be okay. The pilot then came on to tell us that we had experienced engine failure and were going back to Entebbe. There was small chatter but overall, still silent on the plane. Once we touched down on the runway, everyone was clapping. When we came to a complete stop, there was more cheering and clapping. I couldn’t move. I literally just kept staring out the window trying to process what had happened. The crying woman’s friend leaned over to ask if I was okay. I told her that yes, I was fine. But what was really running through my head was a long list of unfortunate events from the past six months. I didn’t feel sorry for myself but it was more like, ‘Oh my god, this is so ridiculous. I can’t make this stuff up.’ I was bummed that I would not be able to surprise my mom for Mother’s Day but just really, really thankful that we were all okay.

While the airlines needed time to sort out hotels for everyone, we stayed on the plane and the flight attendants served a snack. There was plenty of chatter by this time. The foursome together in my row next to me had plenty to say. From the crying woman who relived her own “I’m going to die” experience, to the comedian in the group who said, “I was just waiting for them to yell ‘Brace, brace!’ But really the brace position doesn’t seem safe at all. I think they have you tuck your head, because it’s the fastest way to die if the plane goes down. Probably snaps your neck.” I laughed. Despite being so f*cking scared that I would never see another day, I laughed at the jokester.

When we finally departed from the aircraft, everyone profusely thanked the pilots, myself included. We got our luggage, and after a very long evening, arrived at a beach resort at 4am. I was wide awake from the events, so I took a nice hot bubble bath, alerted my family that I would not be coming home, and crashed in my cozy king sized bed.

Lake Victoria from my hotel room

While Brussels Airlines handled the evening as best as they could, the next day was a disaster. Long story short- they only had one person sorting out our travel arrangements  and some of the systems they put in place for us had failed. I waited in line for three hours only to find out that I was on a flight that had been posted hours earlier… only my name was not on the list. And I was supposed to have been downstairs at the hotel already to take the shuttle back to the airport. Oh yeah, and they put me on a 15-hour flight that they knew would get in late, which put a lot of people in the position of missing their next flights, myself included.

Regardless, I am so happy to be home safe and sound! We are very fortunate. I have been told that engine failure on takeoff or ascent would have meant the pilot would likely have not been able to rebalance the plane. The people just a few rows behind me also witnessed flames that shot from the engine. I am sooo glad I was sitting over the wing where I could not see those or I might have really panicked then. In a stroke of misfortune, my next flight to DC had the worst turbulence I have ever experienced and we landed on the runway with passengers gripping their seats as the plane zig-zagged upon touching down. I can honestly say, for the first time in  my life, that I am thrilled that I will not be flying again for at least the next few months!

Do you have an “I thought I was going to die” story as well?

Bunny ears on Fidele… couldn’t help myself.

While in Rwanda for two weeks to escape the elections, visit artisans, and visit friends, I had plans to take a little trip. You see, my friend Fidele is a tour guide and owns D’Tours Africa. Not only is he perhaps the funniest person I have met on the entire continent of Africa and sure to keep you entertained on a safari, but he happens to be really good at his job! I met Fidele three years ago when he was working for another tour company in Rwanda. He had lost his passport so since he was unable to work until he received his replacement, we hung out in Gisenyi during the few days I was there between trips. Fidele left that company shortly after we met, as the guy he was working for was cheating some clients (I stayed with the owner and his family three years ago and now he is the journalist and website developer for the M23 rebel group in Congo- oh life is interesting sometimes).

Our route for the road trip

I went to visit Fidele in Gisenyi shortly after I arrived in Rwanda this time, where we hatched a plan to take a trip that would be partially for fun and partially to visit artisans. Originally, I wanted to go to Burundi. I thought I would take advantage of having a guide to take me to a country I’d never been. But with fuel costs so high and realizing that there isn’t all that much to do in Burundi, we settled for another place I really wanted to go: Nyungwe National Park. Our plan was 3 days/2 nights to go to Nyungwe in the southern part of Rwanda and then visit two basket weaving co-ops on our return to the shores of Lake Kivu.

Driving through Nyungwe

Nyungwe National Park is a beautiful rainforest in Rwanda. It has chimpanzees, colobus monkeys, waterfalls, birds, and many other species. It is unfortunate that trucks coming from Kenya and Tanzania have to pass through this park to deliver goods in Congo. The accident rate and breakdowns among truckers are high (we saw loads!) and I think it is bad for the park. But it is what it is. After painstakingly choosing where we should go, there was another decision to be made. Do we hike one of the many trails in Nyungwe and go see waterfalls, take a walk across the canopy bridge, or trek chimpanzees or colobus monkeys? Driving through the park is free but all hiking and trekking activities come with a price tag, and it’s not that cheap (of course much cheaper than gorilla tracking in Rwanda!).

Drinking banana beer in Cyangugu

We made it from Gisenyi to Nyungwe in record time (with a stop in Gitarama for snacks at which point a guard tried to make Fidele pay for parking but then he thought our car was from the Congolese Embassy so he immediately backed down). The village where we would have stayed was tiny and we had the entire afternoon to kill. So instead, we decided to drive an extra hour to Cyangugu, the city at the southern point of Lake Kivu. We took a drive to the Congolese border, relaxed, played pool, and ate delicious grilled pork and potatoes for dinner. I also had my first taste of banana beer. Wouldn’t recommend it but was worth a try.

Our green beast trapped between two trucks

We left early the next morning to make our way back to Nyungwe. Unfortunately, the hotel owner also owns big trucks, and they had blocked Fidele in. After trying for a good 30 minutes to squeeze between them (would have been impossible but the hotel workers insisted), he took the keys to one of the lorries and moved it himself. They are extremely difficult to drive, he had a tough time getting it into gear, and we laughed at the sudden jerks as he lurched and stopped. But he solved our problem!

Angolan Colubus Monkeys

Once back at Nyungwe, I decided to track the colobus monkeys. The Angolan colobi in Nyungwe are the largest grouping of primates on the entire continent! There are at least 400 of them in one group. We went to see a smaller group near a tea plantation. I chose to trek colobi over chimps because they are more docile. Chimps move quickly so you might only see them for a second. We were four in our group plus the guide and tracker. After driving to the start of our walk, we found them within 15 minutes, sitting in the trees. My most favorite part of the whole experience was seeing the baby colobus monkeys. They are born entirely white and don’t get their coloring until around three months. Enjoy the photos of these cute creatures:

Colobus baby!

Fred and the tracker look at some monkeys in the distance.

Nyungwe is a really beautiful place if you happen to find yourself in Rwanda. I hope to go back again as I’ve heard the hiking is really great. And, if you find yourself in Rwanda and need a guide, driver, or any other assistance, or are traveling to Uganda, DR Congo, or Burundi,  please contact Dusingisimana Fidele (you can call him Fidele!) at dusifidele[at]yahoo[dot]fr. Aside from a great vacation, I can personally guarantee lots of laughter along the way :)

Fidele in our beautiful green Land Cruiser

Colobus Tracking Costs: $70 USD for visitors, $30 USD for East Africa residents.

Note: After the Rwandan genocide, most of the cities’ names were changed. I have used many of the former names because I ‘do as the locals do’.

It’s no secret- I love Africa travel. But being here in East Africa for the past four months has me itching to see interesting architecture again. On occasion, I see nice hospitality interiors from chain restaurants… and that’s about it. Here in Kenya and Rwanda, I don’t get excited about architecture in the cities.

A few weeks ago, As We Travel posted a view of Florence’s Duomo on their Facebook page. Suddenly, I was itching… okay like practically dying, to be back in Italy and spending countless hours wandering old streets and imagining what life was like during Michelangelo’s time. I tasted gelato on my tongue and felt the crisp spring air on my face. I even recalled the old Romanian woman I shared a hostel room with in Florence, and despite her eating tuna out of a can (the smell of tuna makes me gag) while sitting in her little white nightgown, I remember how much I admired her passion. She saved for several years for a one-week trip to Florence, and spent countless hours in the art museums day after day. Then a mosquito bit me, and I was brought back to my Nairobi reality. As Spring settles upon us, I wanted to mention some of my favorite places in Europe. While I haven’t traveled extensively in Europe, I have discovered some pretty special spots in my limited travels there (and yes, I  use the word discover as in, I discovered for myself… I realize these are quite well known!). I think the idea of place has become so important to me… a hyper-awareness of my surroundings. Place and space are a huge part of why I travel.

Hagia Sophia

1. Hagia Sophia: Once a church, then a mosque, now a museum. However I would just call it: absolutely stunning. The number of beautiful details and the dramatic rays of lights shining down on the central chandelier were just incredible. It was also a bit like a scavenger hunt. When the church was changed into a mosque, Christian symbols were removed. However, it is visible in places where they have sanded away a cross or covered something up. Some details my friend and I noticed, while other ones were pointed out to us by the guards. It’s also located just across the way from the Blue Mosque and both are worth a visit while in Istanbul. I was only in Turkey for just a few days taking advantage of a free stopover, but it’s somewhere I would love to go back. I think with a group of friends we could stay at a villa and explore some of the smaller towns. I did not think three nights in Istanbul were nearly enough!

Light dances in La Sagrada Familia, drawing the eye up to the treetops.

2. La Sagrada Familia: I know, I know. Lots of people really don’t understand Gaudi or appreciate his work. But the first thing I would like to point out is that the kitschy/tacky fruit and vegetables on the outside are not his design! Other architects have been brought on to complete the structure and unfortunately, someone allowed a Japanese architect to stick an ear of corn on this cathedral. My most favorite thing about this cathedral is the tree topped ceiling inside and the beautiful light from the stained glass. I read a comment from someone the other day that said they had no idea that the interior was meant to mimic trees. I don’t know how you could have missed it and there are signs inside that explain the interiors. If you go to La Sagrada Familia, read the signs!  I could have spent all day inside this space. We went up one of the towers as well, and seeing this cathedral from many viewpoints left me so captivated with Barcelona and Gaudi. Another favorite of mine- the angular Passion facade. The Guardian described it as “the awfulness of which is beyond description,” but I’m slapping that description on the fruit bowls!

Florence’s Duomo at night

3. Duomo: If you’ve been following this blog from the beginning, you might recall my cheesy pun when writing about Florence and the Duomo. I can’t help it- I love the Duomo. Like really, really love it. I wasn’t so much captured by the interior as I was by the glimpses of the massive red dome you get from different street corners. I would walk (or run) the entire city each day, and then as I made my way home, back to the hostel I was staying at, I would turn a corner, and bam- the intruding view of the Duomo was right there. Sometimes it would catch me off guard, and I couldn’t help but pause to internalize its beauty. Though I am also a fan of modern architecture, Florentine structures really struck a chord with me.

Colorful Burano, an easy day trip from Venice

4. Venice: Okay, so Venice isn’t exactly a building, but how can I possibly choose? The whole essence of Venice, wandering alleys that are built on water and seeing these beautiful houses with old doors and peeling paint… and beautiful door knockers- Wow. When I landed in Venice it was practically a blizzard. I froze for the better part of my time there. However, I am happy that I avoided the overcrowdedness that comes with summer and really got to explore and have some space to myself. Venice and Burano really encouraged my sense of wanderlust.

Trevi Fountain at night

5. Trevi Fountain: The Trevi Fountain in Rome is a magical gathering place at night. The first time I saw it was during the day. I ran a marathon in Rome before I ever went sightseeing, and it was a great introduction to the city. However, I heard that one must visit the fountain in the evening. My mother and I arrived one evening before going to dinner and found it was really crowded. After taking some photos, we managed to find a seat somewhere. We soaked up the ambiance, watched kids run around, listened to laughter, and enjoyed the good vibes. In this regard, the Trevi Fountain is very much about sense of place for me and less about its physical existence.

So now the real question is, when can I make it back to Italy? Or Istanbul or Barcelona? I haven’t even stepped foot in Paris or Prague, and yet I’m already yearning to go back to places I’ve been. I can’t help it, and I’ve said it before- I’m a creature of comfort, and I really like to revisit places. Plus, who doesn’t want to return to Italy? They have gelato!

I thought I would share some updates from the week on life here in Kenya.

1. A week ago, we issued an interest-free loan to our brass artisan to buy his own equipment. He has been renting from others, but by having his own equipment he can save money and time on transport. It was an exciting day for us at Amsha to see his sheer joy and smiles all around. We had a meeting to discuss our next order and he showed up lugging three of the tools/machines with him. We had a good laugh but he wanted to show us what he had purchased!

2. We ordered horn bangles for our Launch Collection, and they are simply beautiful. They come in four colors and two sizes. The horn is a by-product of the food industry.

3. We worked with the women that make our clay jewelry on new designs. While they have grasped the designs pretty well, we are still struggling to get the coloring right. I’m hoping that third time’s a charm, and our next set of samples are just right.

4. I made a beaded necklace sample that I’m really excited about, but we had struggled to find someone to make it at the same quality and follow the design accurately. We might have found another women’s group in Kibera that seems to have the talent, and we are looking forward to including them in our launch line.

5. We finalized new pieces of brasswork for our launch line on Friday and discovered that our brass artisan brought on seven other guys to help make all of the chain (we need 70 meters!). While this is in no way going to be consistent work for them yet, we hope that as orders pick up, we will see this continue! He also hired his sister to cook for them on the days that they work, which was also nice to see.

6. I had meetings for a new product line we are looking to have- bags! The first meeting was with a very well established organization that I had initially met with two months ago. It ended up being a bit of a disaster, and we quickly realized that they are purely production-based. As luck would have it, our brass artisan has a friend that does beautiful leather work, and we had two meetings with him to discuss design and specifications. We are anxiously awaiting our first samples this coming week.

7. I had been looking for a certain type of dye to use on clay for about two months now. I probably have visited 30 hardware and paint stores in search of it. Finally, a friend of mine in Rwanda suggested I ask his clay artisan here in Kenya. She sent me to another friend, who sent me to a particular market where I was to ask for the Nubians. We finally found this dye from a really old lady named Amina who was as cute as can be. It may have taken two months but we have dye in hand now!

8. I spent Friday afternoon at the police station trying to get my rent deposit back on my old place, only to find out that I need to go to the ‘Rent Bureau’… which of course was closed on Friday because of a public holiday. Next week!

9. I went to a school meeting for John where we had to ‘clap for Jesus’ and it was pretty much a church meeting. However, I did sing my first hymn in Swahili, and while I only knew some of the words, I at least got the pronunciation right!

10. I dropped in to visit Zawadi la Tumaini, a new orphanage here in Nairobi. It was so refreshing to see! Happy kids and happy staff.

11. Because of my visit to Zawadi, I ended up taking a 2-hour taxi ride home due too horrendous traffic. I always chat it up with my taxi drivers, and this one might be my favorite. We discussed Kenyan politics, the number of times he’s been carjacked (sad but actually made me feel a little better about my own situation), the conductor who was hit by his own driver the night before, and all sorts of interesting Kenyan topics.

That about rounds out my week! Wishing everyone a Happy Easter back home and hoping the weather is warming up your way :)

It has been an interesting, and sometimes seemingly long, road. Though the idea for running a social enterprise has been churning for several years, I feel like I am starting to see the fruit of our labors and couldn’t be more excited.

Our very first shipment for Amsha goes on sale today. We are calling this our Pre-Launch Sale because it is only going out to friends and family and by word-of-mouth. All of the proceeds from this first shipment will be reinvested into our next order, which we hope will be larger and expand into a few more products. I would love your feedback. Comments, questions? We want to know! While we still have a long way to go (you might notice some wonky sizing on some things as we work out the kinks) we are really proud of what we have to offer in this sale. We are proud of our artisans who tried, and then tried again, to make exactly what we wanted. We are proud of them for coming up with their own designs. And we are proud that they were willing to try something new (like learning how to use a ring sizer!) to work within our expectations.

Sure, I stumbled along the way. Made mistakes in how I handled some things. But through all of the frustrations and headaches and inter-artisan dramas (trust me, no place is immune to petty arguments and gossip), there were many happy meetings, successes made, and we someone how pulled this off. I have learned so much in the past three months- about business…loads about international transactions, life, ethics, design, communication… you name it, I probably learned something about it (really… I even caught up on my slum lingo and learned what a flying toilet is). I was pickpocketed, had my apartment broken into, was robbed at gun point, got into both a motorbike and a bus accident, and despite all of those ‘setbacks’, I somehow proved something to myself. While I hope we sell all of those beatiful pieces hanging in our Facebook storefront, I know that I’ve accomplished something regardless of the sales figures and learned so much along the way.

Thank you again for continuing to follow along. Thank you soooo much to Emily for devoting hours and hours and hours of her time for free to help develop Amsha into what it is becoming (and for letting me vent or answering all of my emails essentially saying ‘Help!’). And thanks for all of you that provided feedback on design, pricing, and anything else I might have bugged you about! Be sure to go have a look and tell us what you think :) The launch line is in the works right now but still very open to the feedback we receive from this sale so chime in!

Where to find us:

https://www.facebook.com/amshastudio

amshastudio[at]gmail[dot]com

Photo of ugly Kenyan bird in lieu of ugly robbers.

I actually wrote an entire blog about my apartment getting broken into but never hit the publish button. Now I find myself in a similar situation, wondering this time if I should share the incident of getting robbed at gunpoint. What it really boils down to is that I’m kind of embarrassed about it. It was stupid and on the cusp of the time when I really should not have been walking. I should have taken a taxi. It also coincided with a very bizarre incident that happened earlier in the day, and I’m quite frankly just not really sure what to think.

Honestly, I was more pissed about the situation because of losing my bank cards and my phone. And the fact that I had my apartment broken into just the month before, it was like, ‘Here we go again.’ But then when safety reports started trickling in, and I found out that a foreigner was actually shot by thugs trying to rob him at 9:30 at night on the very road I live on now, I realize that it is a very serious situation. I always assumed that my biggest dangers in Nairobi were a.) a traffic accident or b.) getting robbed. And while I have experienced both, I realize that people are not afraid to use those guns. Thankfully, at the time, those thoughts were not running through my head.

So here’s what happened:

After spending a morning in Kibera with the women, I left just after lunchtime to meet up with someone for coffee whom I had met a few weeks earlier. He, supposedly, was Kenyan by birth, adopted to Norway, and living in LA, but spending a few months back in Nairobi. The story was actually pretty believable. He speaks Norwegian and knows a lot about the country as well as LA. And he has a personality that I think anyone would find hard not to like. He asked to come see my project, and he met the artisans. It all seemed very normal and since he seemed interested, I thought he would be a good contact to have in LA. We spent the afternoon having coffee, discussing more of my business, and discussing his family. Around early dinner time, an American friend of his, who I had met before, came up to the table and asked to speak to me. She seemed really ticked off and didn’t even acknowledge her friend that I was sitting with. I assumed that maybe they were dating and she thought something was going on. When we went around the corner, she told me that she thought he had wiped her bank accounts, stolen lots of money from her, and that the US Embassy was finally investigating him.

Well that was a slap in the face I didn’t see coming. I asked her what happened, and at first she wouldn’t tell me. But after further discussion, it turned out that her apartment was broken into (before he had ever been there) and that she went to stay with him and his sister for a week. She believes they were taking her bank cards at night while she was sleeping and withdrawing money. It was one of those moments where it was just really hard to believe. I truly believed that what she was telling me was what she thought was the truth, I just wasn’t sure if I believed it as well. We made up a story of what I was going to tell this guy and agreed that I would call her when I got home to tell her if he seemed nervous or how he reacted. I basically told him that I thought she was jealous, blah blah blah. He thought it sounded ridiculous and kept pushing, as if, is that really what she said. But I just kept insisting and pretended like I thought she was a bit of psycho, like ‘you know how some girls are,’ and left it at that. As I started mulling things over in my head, I thought it was odd that he had discussed computer security and debit card security with me that very afternoon in depth, and seemed to know a lot about both. Maybe there was a bit of truth in what this girl told me. Now that it was getting late, our coffee meetup needed to end, and I was freaked out. I planned to take the bus home… which he knew. Then after I got to the bus stop, I considered going back into the mall to buy airtime and just take a taxi home. But stupidly, I didn’t. I took the bus to my stop and went into the shopping center there to get airtime. Then I walked the two blocks to get home on a well-lit street. My sister called while I was walking, and I told her that I thought “Kenya was trying to kill me,” (oh the irony) but that she should call me back in 15 minutes since I was walking home. I opted to put my phone in my pocket instead of back in my purse… just in case. As I got near the end of the street, I saw shadows of two men behind me that were practically on top of me. I immediately crossed the street and they didn’t. Phew. I was just being paranoid.

As I got to the corner, the flower seller, who I greet every day, was just packing up to go home. We had a quick chat. The two men crossed the street and were now in front of me but continued walking. I rounded the corner, and they turned on me. The one in front of me pulled a gun on me and told me that if I screamed he would kill me. The other stood on my side. I just remember saying, “Ok ok ok!” I took off my purse and handed it to him. He then asked me for my phone. I gave it to him, and then he searched my pockets. I asked him for my keys. A motorbike driver pulled up and the two hopped on. I begged for my keys again. After saying no the first couple of times, he asked me where they were. But of course they were in a zipper within a zipper, and well, no thief waits around for that. I ran down the hill to my gate, and tried through gasps to explain to the security guard what happened.  Of course the guys were gone, and I’m not sure calling the police would have helped. If I had had a phone, maybe I would have. It took a while for me to get my landlord to come to the next gate to let me in. Luckily, she lent me her phone, and I called my sister to inform her not to call my phone.

It could have been some thugs from the shopping center who followed me. It could have been this guy who I met for coffee. After all, someone broke into this other girl’s apartment to steal from her which led her to stay at his house. Maybe he was hoping that I would ask for his help. The thing is, I will never know. The good news is, I have learned NEVER to walk at night again. This guy has also finally been arrested as he was caught on camera using her bank cards. It turns out that he had a Norwegian girlfriend and lived there for two years. His whole story was a lie, and he had stolen from her as well.

I went the very next day and filed paperwork to have my phone cut off. This means, even if they tried to wipe the phone to use it, it won’t work. That is my way of saying F- you to the people who did this. I had about $35 on me but that was it. Split that three ways, and it’s not going to get them very far. What they have cost me is about $120 in wire transfer fees and $80 to get new bank cards shipped to me (which still aren’t working!…I take that back as they are now working the day this posted) and a lot of headaches to get a new SIM card, a new phone, etc.

While I hold these people personally responsible and honestly don’t care if the police were to catch them (which most likely means they would be shot and killed), I do realize this is a symptom of poverty, corruption, and poor leadership. Compare Kenya to Rwanda, and it is like night and day. If the police would crack down, if bribery and corruption weren’t so rampant, and if there were more opportunities, this would not be happening nearly as much. But, like I said, these people made a choice and I hold them fully responsible and think justice can come in many forms, including karma.  Jail time would be nice too, but not likely. Hopefully, they change their ways or get caught.

Either way, I am still alive and kicking and need to continue to worry about myself. So I’ll just add it to my list of ‘That Year I Started a Business and Everything Went Wrong but I Still Survived.’

Have you ever been robbed?

Volcano views on our drive out of Gisenyi

Rwanda was fantastic. I am so, so, so glad I decided to go. I traversed the country for two weeks in search of artisans and took a little trip with friends to the rainforest along the way (and also ate some fantastic food). I feel like I have so much to blog about, and yet it’s almost like ‘Where do I begin?

I got back to Nairobi in the wee hours of Saturday morning with a mixture of feelings. I moved houses (again) while I was gone and have a fantastic place to call home now. But even if it sounds silly, I get distressed walking even during the day. It’s no longer a place I feel at ease in. I think when our bus rolled up to the bus office in Nairobi, and I saw a fight where they left a guy lying in the road unconscious, it was the sort of ‘Welcome home’ you don’t really care to receive.  The good news is I am feeling very focused after my Rwanda trip. Even if Nairobi is not the place I care to call home any longer, I know what needs to be done, and I am still passionate about the very reasons that brought me here in the first place- create jobs and skills training to elevate people out of extreme poverty and provide a future for their children.

There is a LOT that needs to be done. Some days it seems like I will never figure everything out. And the more that I check off the list, the more I realize I don’t know. Little things I never gave much thought to before that turn out to be really big things- like finding out the labeling laws for textile products- seem like a cumbersome task. (By the way, anyone who would like to give me a synopsis of those laws to avoid making my head hurt even more, please feel free to do so).  However, slowly but surely, we are making progress. I am very fortunate that my best friend has done SO much on the U.S. end of things. (Thanks Emily!) She has received our first shipment, dealt with all of the sorting and tagging, and will be doing all of the shipping as well. My friend and business manager here in Nairobi Fred has been a huge help- when I simply have reached my wit’s end with miscommunications or don’t think I can deal with an issue any longer, he manages to resolve things. He keeps my scatterbrained thoughts and deadlines in order… pretty much exactly the type of help I need here in Kenya. Somehow, we all manage!

Learning how sisal baskets are made in Gitarama, Rwanda

Our very first shipment of jewelry, as I mentioned, has now landed in the U.S. We are calling this our ‘Pre-Launch Sale’. Even though Amsha will not be officially launching until my return, this is a good way to spread the word, get feedback, and boost capital to invest in a larger launch order. This is also the first time I have publicly announced the name of my business. Amsha (pronounced om-shuh) is a Swahili word meaning ‘to awaken’. It needs an entire blog post on its own to explain how I came up with it, but I think it is so fitting… awaken customers to be more conscientious consumers, awaken and elevate our artisans to new opportunities and a brighter future, etc.

So that’s where I am now- sitting at my dining room table, looking out to the Birds of Paradise plants in our backyard, feeling the nice breeze, and listening to the birds. (Thank god it’s Sunday because it means the huge orange crane that I can also see out my back door is not operating). Our pre-launch sale will start this Thursday on the Amsha facebook page, so keep your eyes peeled! I will post the link on Thursday so that you can check it out. Even if you have no intention to buy anything (or you’re a guy and women’s jewelry isn’t really your thing), I would love for your feedback! In the meantime we need to tweak a few things on the page, and I’m already scouting out a few more artisans for our final order. There is never a moment of rest here! I am really pushing to wrap things up in Nairobi in about a month, so I think we have some long days ahead of us. I’m really excited to share the products with you and am eagerly awaiting your feedback. I would not be where I am today without all of the help that I have received and look forward to continuing to improve our products and our business model with your input.

Surprise, I’m back in Kigali :)

Today is Election Day in Kenya. The local and international communities are holding their breaths and waiting anxiously in hopes of a peaceful day. You may recall that in 2007/2008, post-election violence broke out as a result of an allegedly rigged election. Raila Odinga (who is a major contender this time around as well) had a significant lead in the last election. Then, the power went out across the country. When the power came back on, suddenly Kibaki was in the lead.  The violence lasted nearly three months and many innocent people lost their lives as a result. This time Raila Odinga is up against Uhuru Kenyatta who is going on trial in the ICC for instituting violence in the last election. He and his running mate are both accused of being ring leaders in the violence, but ironically were on opposing sides. Now they have teamed up to try to run the country despite the fact that they will spend part of their time in the Hague. Why anyone would vote for someone that is facing charges in the ICC, I have no idea, but don’t get me started on talking Kenyan politics or I will sound like a broken record.

Not only have many foreigners left Kenya for the elections, but a lot of locals have as well since schools are closed right now. My neighbors were heading to Uganda this week. Others were looking at flights to Bangkok or to Addis Ababa for a cheap plane ride out of the country. I am not in Kenya for the elections. Calculated or coincidence? A little of both. Initially, I had planned to go to Rwanda at the end of my stay in Kenya. I have friends there that I wanted to visit, and I also wanted to scope out some women’s co-ops there. When my Rwandan friend who runs Art Point Rwanda came to Kenya to buy supplies, Fred and I grabbed coffee with him. After the meeting, Fred mentioned that he thought we should go to Rwanda during the elections, as he felt he could learn a lot from Abraham, and it would be an opportunity for us to visit these co-ops. I turned down the idea because of having to pay two visas in Uganda just to transit through en route. Then I got robbed at gun point, and suddenly I was all for the idea. My visa was set to expire February 27^th and I thought with my horribly bad luck in Kenya this year thus far, perhaps I should get out of town for the elections. And I really just needed a break. Being in Nairobi has become near overwhelming, and I am constantly filled with anxiety when I’m out and about.  I ended up having to renew my Kenyan visa before I left because immigration could not tell me whether or not I would be okay to leave on the 27^th. But it was a pretty simple process and a lot cheaper than getting it at the border, as long as I am allowed to re-enter on the same visa.

So I am back in the land of a thousand hills, after falling in love with the landscapes on my first visit in 2010. When asked about Rwanda, I’m always quick to mention how safe and clean it is- definitely an exception in Africa. Plastic bags are illegal for environmental reasons. There is a mandatory cleanup day on the last Saturday of every month. There aren’t the horrible bus fumes choking your lungs every second like there is in Nairobi. Being here for just a couple of days has really opened my eyes to how different Kigali is from Nairobi. I feel free. Relaxed. And really happy. We whiz around on motorbikes to get around the super-hilly city and try to speak Swahili when we find a Rwandan that can converse in it. I’ve gotten a really big kick out of all the locals that try to speak Kinyarwanda (the local language) with Fred. In terms of looks, he can pass as Rwandan. So when he tells them “English or Swahili,” they either get that he’s not Rwandan and switch languages, completely ignore what he’s saying and continue to talk to him in Kinyarwanda, or look at him very perplexed and wonder why he can’t speak the language. It’s quite entertaining for me, but sometimes I have to spell it out for them that “He’s from Kenya,” so they don’t think he’s being rude.

Kigali Info

Kigali is also really, really small. Even though there are a million motorbike taxis in the city, we’ve already run into two that we took before. You can walk anywhere in the city center in about ten minutes, and even to get to the suburbs is just a ten minute drive. The motorbike costs just $0.50 in town and about $1.00 out to the suburbs. It’s cheap! With the flood of expats here, there is a nice selection of restaurants, as well as ample local food to choose from. Fred and I ate an entire roasted chicken the other night and even though I practically went into a food coma, it was some of the best chicken either of us had eaten before. Oh yeah, and for all of that chicken we only paid about $10.50. The weather is definitely hotter than either of us expected (maybe because there’s not much of a breeze?) and our budget digs unfortunately does not have a fan. Speaking of accommodation, it is more expensive than Nairobi. Though still cheap (less than $20), we are paying more than I would pay in Nairobi and we have shared bathrooms here. We got lucky that there was room at one of the church hostels, as we would have to pay almost double otherwise.

What We Have in Store for Rwanda

I guess I would call this trip a working holiday. We are working nearly every day on business activities but also taking the time to do a little bit of sightseeing in Rwanda and enjoy a change of pace. We have visited a sewing cooperative in Kigali and have a few more co-op visits in the works. We are on our way to Gisenyi tomorrow to visit a good friend of mine and hang out at the lake for a few days (and visit some more rural cooperatives). Since I have to pay the visa again in Uganda on the way back, we might stop in Kampala or Jinja (a source of the Nile) just to scope things out for a few days (possibly more cooperative visits) before heading back to Nairobi to start my big jewelry order that will be our launch collection.  I am feeling refreshed and reinvigorated to keep on keeping on. We are collecting more ideas and inspiration each day and attempting to pave our own path in the world of social enterprise. Stay tuned.

Samburu woman in Rumuruti

Market day comes every Thursday in Rumuruti. It is a big deal. People come from near and far to buy food and home stuffs,  as well as livestock. It can be a social outing where you run into friends as well. When we went, there was a Kikuyu band playing in the street, and the town was quite lively.

After walking 5km to the closest town, we caught a matatu to Rumuruti. Our first stop was to the goat and cattle market. It is chaotic! The cattle is crowded into these tiny pens, while a few men are in charge of beating them with a stick to ensure that animals from the same owner stay together. It seemed completely stupid and pointless, as they should just subdivide the pens to avoid having to beat these animals across the face and haunches. However, Onesmus loves, I mean seriously loves, cows. So he was on cloud nine pointing out all of the big cows we saw and the big horns they had. :)

Onesmus loves the cows!

After the cattle market, we wandered back through town, grabbed lunch, bought some beading supplies so I could make a Turkana bangle, and bought veggies and meat for dinner. We enjoyed seeing people from so many different tribes and the vibrant and colorful outfits were a highlight for me.

Pokot man at the cattle market

Samburu men at the goat and sheep market

Don’t have a purse? No problem- fashion one out of a Pampers bag :)

Samburu woman

Old-school Land Rover. I want!

Samburu man. Love the faux flowers on the headdress!

Old-school Land Rover. I want!

Miraa- a chewable plant this is illegal in the US but chewed by plenty of men in Kenya as a stimulant to stay awake or to suppress appetite.

Beautiful necklaces on the women at the circumcision celebration

I landed in Kenya at the end of November, but just two weeks later I already had a vacation planned. An American friend of mine Hannah was coming to visit her boyfriend Amana for the holidays, and the boys and I decided to tag along the first week and get a taste of  Turkana. The five of us all know each other from my former volunteer project here, so we were super excited to catch up, laugh much, and relax together. I always think living among locals is perhaps the highlight of an African experience, but I have spent most of my time in a Kikuyu village. Since Amana is Turkana, this was truly a rare opportunity to get a glimpse into a new tribe. Before I went, I only associated Turkanas with Masaiis, as they both have nomadic roots and drink cow’s blood. Beyond that, I couldn’t tell you much more.  Turkanas are mainly in northern Kenya, however Amana’s village is in Samburuland near Rumuruti. This is quite possibly the most interesting place to people watch in Kenya, as tribes from the north inhabit villages in the area and also come here to do business. So on market day, you will watch as Turkana, Masaii, Samburu, Pokhat, Kikuyu, and other tribes go about their business. They are wearing head-dresses and traditional garb and it truly feels straight out of a movie. 

Two of our motorbikes. The mattress guy up in front.

On a sunny Sunday morning, we boarded the shuttle to Nyahururu  (yes it’s a mouthful to say, but with practice it rolls off the tongue) en route to Amana’s village. We drove past the vast and beautiful Rift Valley and it was quite the sight. We cruised by large pieces of grazing land that had zebras and some small antelopes. Both Onesmus and John’s first time of seeing a zebra in the wild, we feasted on the landscapes as we drove. Of course good things seem to be momentary in Kenya, and soon we were on a horrible, pothole-ridden road that was under repair. Suddenly, I looked forward to this bus ride coming to an end. Once in Nyahururu, we stopped at a busy hotel for lunch, and then it was time for a huge shopping trip. We needed food for the next week, drinking water for the next few days (there are no wells in the village and the people get their drinking water from the brown river), and I needed to buy three thin mattresses so that everyone would have a space to sleep.  You should have seen our stockpile of stuff once we all congregated outside of the little supermarket. While four of us had a backpack each of personal belongings, Hannah had a backpack for a month, Christmas gifts, and two full duffel bags of donations she carried on behalf of an NGO.  Add to that three mattresses, six gallons of water, and three bags of food, and I can easily say that there was no shortage of stares. Everyone loaded up like mules, and we headed for the next bus that would take us to a little town just 5 km from the village. They threw all of our crap on top of the bus , I used the sketchy bathroom at the petrol station, and off we went.

Our home for the next week (with baby Josephine)

After a short ride and unloading our things, we made an even bigger scene in the small, roadside town. Kids gathered round to see the mzungus and people looked at our pile o’stuff. The boys organized four motorbikes for us: one with John and I, our backpacks, and groceries, one with Hannah and Amana and backpacks and groceries, one with Onesmus, water, a mattress and a bag, and one with mattresses and other bags.  We took off in a motorcade and the warm breeze and laughter from friends was exhilarating.

Breakfast time!

Taking the long way to the village to avoid the river crossing (which we did later in the week by motorbike), we started down a gravel road that followed the river. Kids shouted greetings as we passed, and I waved at every one of them. I was really happy.

We turned off the gravel road and were driving through the bush. I didn’t expect this. Even the most rural of villages I have been to, there has been some sort of large footpath at the very least to welcome my arrival. I was happy that I was in long pants as to minimize the brush scratching my legs. Eventually, we were driving alongside a dried up maize field and kids were shouting and running. The thatched huts appeared one by one, and I realized we had arrived. This tiny Turkana village would become my home for the next five days and I had an inkling I was really going to enjoy myself.

*****

Onesmus enjoying the river… even though it was freezing!

After dropping our bags, we wasted no time and went down to the river. A woman was washing clothes, children were collecting water and goofing around, and it was a great spot for people watching. We ended up spending most of our days at this very spot on the river. Whether it was washing our clothes, reading a book, or watching the kids go swimming in the frigid waters, it was truly the best kept secret of the village. The very first day I made friends with two little boys. One was so stern and every time Onesmus tried to speak to him he would scowl. I made it a point to try to make this kid smile by hiding behind the rocks and peeping at him. Once I saw his huge grin and excited eyes, my heart practically melted. This boy could quite possibly be the cutest kid I’ve ever seen…after my nephew of course ;) His older brother, though small, said he was 11 years old and in Class One. Obviously, a very similar schooling situation to John’s.

Cutest kids in the village

Sometimes laughter gets the best of us :)

Each morning the older boy Ndegwa would come greet me at Amana’s home. We would spend our afternoons with them down at the river and by the last day, even little Lohje had warmed up to Onesmus.  In case you hadn’t noticed, Onesmus is very dark, hence why his nickname is Blackie. One evening we were walking back from the river together and some little kid thought Blackie was his older brother. He walked up behind him and called out a name, but when Onesmus turned around the kid started wailing. Seriously, wailing. Onesmus told the boy’s older brother, who was ahead of us, to go back for his little brother.  After we got back to the village a good five minutes later, we could still hear the kid crying from afar. We couldn’t stop laughing about it over dinner that evening, as the irony that a Kenyan, not a mzungu, is what scared this kid was too funny.

*****

Women preparing to dance to protect the local brew!

Our stay in December also coincided with the homecoming of the first group of boys to go out for circumcision. After being circumcised they stay together in the bush for a month, while older males in the village essentially teach them about their tribe and becoming a man. There was a huge celebration one day and all of the village elders were there. We had watched the women collect huge jugs of water at the river that they used to make local brew. Now at the party, we watched traditional dancing as the women tried to protect the hut that contained the local brew, while the men tried to get past them and steal it. You never know how you might be perceived as an outsider attending a local ceremony, but it was overwhelming. A woman grabbed my hand and I jumped alongside them. These old women were the jam! When we were to leave, the men did a dance to escort us out, and Hannah and I had to jump with them. We created a dust bowl and were hacking between laughs. It was fantastic.

Dancing with the men (ie jumping)

*****

Rose farm in Kenya

Hannah has a love for flowers. Like seriously, a love I’ve never seen before. And it just so happens that a huge flower farm that employs a couple thousand employees was only a 30-minute walk from the village. We took an afternoon to go visit them. After talking to the guards, we were sent to the head office, where we had to speak to multiple people until we were finally standing in front of the GM. The conversation went basically like this:

“Hey we like flowers. We just wanted to have a look around.”
“Where are you from?”
“Oh we stay in ***** village just up the road.”
“No that’s the name of this area.”
“Yes but it’s also the name of our village. Which was here before you.”
“Where is the village?”
“You just go down the road about a kilometer and then turn off into the bush. It’s not far. You have employees that come from there.”
A very confused look on his face.

The white Kenyan GM I think was more baffled that mzungus would dare stay in a village out this way. He thought we must have come from Rumuruti, so when we explained that we had walked to get there, he was a bit surprised to say the least. He did send us though to see a super nice manager Juma who, along with a guard and another employee, took us around. It was now after hours but he stayed to show us all of the roses. It was really fun, I learned a lot about roses (90% of these were being sent to the Netherlands), and I can now tell you when is the right time to pick a rose for shipping abroad. We left before sunset and stopped at the football field so the boys could play soccer as the last rays of light were cast over the ridge. Such a beautiful day.

Football to conclude a wonderful day.

*****

Lending me her jewelry

On my last day in the village, Amana had an older woman come over so that I could try on her jewelry. Turkana women wear stacks of big, beautiful beaded necklaces as part of their traditional garb. Some only put it on for ceremonies, while others wear it daily. This woman not only lent me her jewelry for photos, but told me I could wear it the rest of the day and return it that evening. Amana told me to take a stroll through the village, and at first I was unsure. Of course I wanted to parade through the village in traditional Turkana jewelry, but I also didn’t want to come off as an outsider who was offending the community. I was told that it was fine, so Hannah and I started to walk. Before long, we were being followed by children and being greeted heartily by other women. Once we were almost home, a very old woman in traditional dress was walking by. I stopped to greet her in the traditional manner: by jumping and then throwing my head forward so that my hair flipped her way. I’ve never seen a happier old lady in my life, and she was truly tickled by the notion. After much laughter and smiles, my afternoon as a Turkana lady came to an end.

Chatting with Turkana women after a tribal greeting

One by one, I removed the necklaces. When I got to one of the last ones, I could not get it over my head. I remembered one that I put on was kind of snug but not this tight. I started to panic. The guys were trying to help. We could only get it up to my forehead but then it was seriously stuck. I thought of how this kind woman would come to collect her jewelry and then realize that I couldn’t get one off and that it might be ruined if she had to cut it. My head hurt. Finally, John spotted a clasp on it. Then we all felt like idiots. I had an indentation on my forehead from the beads and a bruise the next day. It was one of those moments that you can only shake your head about.

Sweet kids

Our last morning in the village, Onesmus and I wanted to go see Ndegwa and Lohje. I knew kind of where they lived because I helped them carry water home from the river one time. We got to the only house that could be theirs, and called out for them. Ndegwa had the biggest grin, and his brother followed, as his shy little sister stayed back. We took pictures with them and told them to be good boys and work hard in school. Ndegwa asked that if we come again, if we could please bring him shoes. We knew he didn’t have any, as they had both gone barefoot the whole week we were there and had worn the same outfit the entire time. Hannah gave them a few pieces of clothing for Christmas (of which they were ecstatic), but only a week after we left the village, we found out that their father passed away. I imagine that life will only get harder. It doesn’t damper my beautiful stay in this village, but it does bring one back down to reality. While I had a great time in this Turkana village, life is still very tough for the people that live there. Many work in the flower farm that we visited and earn $2 per day. It’s difficult to even comprehend. They drink the muddy river water which leaves stains on their teeth from the minerals. To go to the market day in Rumuruti, you need to walk about 10km round trip and pay $1.15. Having this kind of perspective is what keeps me motivated in my work and eager to learn more. It also shows the necessity of education as a way out of this hand-to-mouth way of life. All in all though, I am so grateful for a wonderful experience and great friends to share it with.

Here are a few more photos from our visit:

Discovering that kids created pinwheels… with goat poop holding them together!

One by one, I gave the girls down at the river a chance to see themselves with mzungu hair!

John and Amana’s niece

A character at the Dallas Posho Mill in the neighboring town

Cute kid syndrome.

Storm looming over the village

Washing clothes and hair. The river is good for many things!

Clothes dry as the cows graze.

Girls having too much fun swimming in the river!