Up and down

Visiting Karen Blixen's house last Sunday with a group of friends, I noticed a poster on the wall about her life and writing. Author of "Out of Africa", she frequently wrote to her mother in Denmark about her life in Kenya, running a farm at the foot of the Ngong Hills. Her farm no longer remains but her writing does, of a time long past but not forgotten- Colonial Kenya. I lingered for a while reading one particular letter she had written: "I was not drawn to Africa because it is was rich, but its riches are boundless"


And this is certainly true, if you have an open attitude and can see all the riches it beholds


Many time here in Nairobi, I have been caught up with numerous issues. Important questions like can I afford to live here as a volunteer? or how can I get faster internet access? or how can I communicate with people at home if I can't access skype?


Consumed with such questions, I wonder how I found myself in such a recondite place where even the basic necessities of life like health, education, technology are considered luxuries that few can afford. Only today in The Daily Nation, I read an article about the ongoing saga of the stolen millions from the Free Primary Education Fund. Hundreds of thousands of innocent children will suffer because the elite under the jurisdiction of the Ministry of Education misplaced Doner money. More aid money down the drain in a country already swelling to the brim with dependency on aid. And still the culprits remain in their positions, wealthy with the money they misplaced. Kenya's forgotten children will remain in villages all over the country, denied their basic right to education.


There are other problems too but I have been adviced by my Kenyan friends not to worry about the small stuff like lack of Internet access. And I understand why. With the weight of massive burdens, people here are resigned not to sweat the small stuff and exude a patience which I admire. I have not heard a voice raised in frustration (except my own) nor a tormented look on any one's face since I arrived. Not even in Kibera, where people set up shack in Africa's largest slum. Without sanitation, living in hovels which provide the most basic kind of shelter. Literally, they only have the roof over their head and the shirt on their back. Still there is laughter and children playing as if its just another day. Life goes on.


And now for its riches ...because they are everywhere if only you have the eyes to see them. I left Ireland hoping for a change of scenery and what I got instead was a change of perspective. Sure the little things bother me all the time. But I have to remember why I am here and the job I have to do. The little things will have to wait.

Last weekend crystallised in all that I loved about Kenya. I was invited to a Team Building Day at Masai Lodge by the Occupational Therapy Department at Kenyatta Hospital. We were instructed to meet at 7.3o in Kenyatta.

I should have known! 7 30 in Kenya translates to 9 am. Instead of turning over for another sleep at 8 am , I got up at 6.45 am only to realise my mistake when I got to Kenyatta. And as I looked around searching for the familiar faces of my colleagues, I noticed my other Muzungu friend, Trixie, who had mistakenly kept the time.

I have learned from my mistake. Always always add at least one hour and then hope for the best that people will stick to that time. You never know. Time is unique here in that no one seems to live by the clock. Rather a notion that when you get there, it is time enough. No rushing..you can always blame the traffic

So we arrived at Masai Lodge in the beautiful natural surround of Nairobi National Park, well after 10 am and then the games began.

We were instructed to introduce ourselves while walking around a swimming pool, announcing important details like our name, our marital status ( very important here) and our shoe size, type of tooth paste etc. I discovered that I was one of two single people. the other single person was also a Muzungu. All my colleagues in their thirties were married with children. Even the ones in their twenties.

We kicked off with strenuous exercises geared for a fitter crew. And then a team game where we had to lift other members of our team over a rope. Large and small, light and the not so light were lifted with grace over the rope and onto the other side as if their life depended on it.

Afterwards, there was a two hour hike near Nairobi National Park with a Masai Warrior- to fend off Lions in case they got hungry. He was draped in a bright red robe, tied in the middle with a luminous belt of different colours. On his head, a red head dress with flowers over a red plaited long wig. Quite an outfit for the hike. He carried his Masai stick with the rounded edge, a formidable figure in our group of inexperienced trekkers.


We walked over rivers and rocks, under dry grizzly bush and over dry red crackled dust, in the hot African sun. I chatted with colleagues about the general happenings in Nairobi. Most are from upcountry regions in rural Kenya. Most made their way to Nairobi in search of a better life for their family. Some of the married men had left their families behind in order to bring in money for their families and had been lured by the appeal of the single life too.


Everything was going well until we approached a thin metal drawbridge overlooking a deep ravine with murky brown river far beneath. Nothing between us and the abyss except bush and rocks. I was one of the first to cross unfortunately. There was a queueing system and I was up near the front. Great


I was terrified, as I have some experience of Kenyan construction - it is not made to last. My legs quivered as I slowly walked across, clinging to the metal rope and trying to look across the horizon. Behind the team were yelling "come on Muzungu, move faster" or "I think she's going to crawl."


I kept my slow pace. Now it was my time for pole pole (slowly slowly). No rushing now as I was on African time. They would have to wait while I made the crossing. So slowly I crossed with someone behind me murmuring "relax relax". Now was no time for relaxing. I couldn't relax here, put my feet up or turn around for a chat. I was risking my life in this crossing..pole pole


And finally I reached the other end. Not far behind me, one of the girls was midst anxiety attack. Her feet gave way under her and she told me later that all she wanted to do was lie down on the bridge and rest. However, pole pole she reached the other end.When she reached the other end, her t shirt was soaked in sweat and she was hyper ventilating. No one offered her sympathy as is often the case here. Just nervous laughter. I consoled her and reassured her that I was also scared. At least we only had to cross it once.. it was only going to be once, right?


No, there was no way back from Kitengela re-cycled glass factory.. all that way for recycled glass! We would have to cross again. What a cruel joke. All I had to do was follow the others and pretend that the bridge was safe and that we wouldn't fall to our deaths far far beneath. One wise guy mentioned that I should stop and admire the scenery.


Is he out of his mind?? At a time like this, stop and admire the scenery beneath us...very far beneath us. I needed a stiff drink to relax not admire the scenery


Nothing like the fear factor to bond a team. If you can make it across a stringy metal bridge overlooking a steep ravine, you can accomplish anything. At least we were still alive I thought..that was team building enough for me


And then the highlight of the day-swimming in the pool. However we decided to turn it into a basketball game of boys against the girls.The girls had a not so easy victory as the boys couldn't swim. What a match. Splashing, pulling the ball, throwing it into our handmade basketball net which consisted of a chair, fowling- one of the funniest sports I have ever played in the water


Afterwards, we relaxed with Tuskers and listened to the beat of Luya music in the background.

Many tribes live in Nairobi and an event like this was a rich musical blend of all cultures.I got a chance to listen to all types of music. Luya from the West, the rhythmical Kamba beats of the East, The Flame dance; a risky dance for a female as it involves hula movements of the hip which seem to drive the male folk into a queer state.

I announced that I would be dancing but at a distance.My mother told me always keep my distance from men.. all men and now was the time to remind people of this. There would be no grinding movements near my behind.I would be keeping my distance


Everyone was laughing. What kind of dance would that be with between male and female.It didn't exist here. The whole idea of dancing here is to simulate sex, and to keep the rhythm, something many of us from the west are not used to.


I watched and I learned. Do not move your shoulders, only your hips. Bend your knees and make circular subtle round hip movements while listening to the beat. It was a teasing dance. I forgot who I was for a few hours while I lost myself in the rhythm and followed the others, dancing in circles, all without the aid of alcohol.I surprised myself


Afterwards I felt exhilarated. I had finally learned to African dance and was enchanted by the way everyone lost themselves in the music. Dancing there, that night, under another cloudless African sky, I thought this is one of Kenya's riches. The freedom to dance uncontrollably.


The night wore on and even the Masai warrior had changed his clothes. I didn't recognise him in his western dress- he was less luminous now and looked like everybody else.


Later that night, we got a lift home with one of my colleagues and his mistress, a woman half his age...no judgement. He had invited her to a work party! And he wasn't the only one with a complicated love life. Another colleague of mine told me that he didn't live with his partner and his two children. He kept up the face of the loving partner in public but in fact she didn't want to live with him as they had married early in life and she hadn't had a chance to enjoy her youth- that was his version.


Another woman reminded me that it was expected after college that you marry and have children. The parents wanted grandchildren. There was little time for waiting after college. If a woman reached 27 she is considered old. I reminded her that I was 35 and had never been married. She told me I was free then like an animal, like a Simba. I wasn't expected to live by Kenyan standards and since I had left Ireland last year, I wasn't expected to live by Ireland's societal norms either


What a liberating feeling. I was free here. Free not to be judged by societal norms. No one is ever entirely free of such norms but I was more liberated than before. This is what I was hoping for, to shrug off norms, when I set off for Africa 5 months before. Tired of the constant demands and expectations of home, I shrugged off all expectations placed on Irish women of child bearing age and headed off to Africa..for a change of scenery...and perspective


And there, I found it. Freedom from expectation and freedom from all the burdens placed on women today. I had joined the ranks of women who instead of giving birth, decide to head out into the world and discover all the riches that other cultures provide. I could learn another language here or easier just to dance under the stars. Whatever took my fancy.

That night in the car, I felt that I had finally discovered all that was good about life in Africa

Sure there are many things that challenge a person here. Lack of internet access, power cuts, the haggling of no fix prices.But here I am really stretching myself. In the face of all these challenges, I feel truly alive. Why do we need so many lows in order to enjoy the highs? To give us a sense of perspective I suppose

Up and down is an expression Kenyans use to express the fact that they are busy. Up and down is the way I feel most days here. Loving the place then hating it five minutes later. You could be accused of being Bipolar given the different strong emotions you feel in one day


The more obstacles placed in my way, the more I feel grateful for all I have here. Great likeminded friends who continually support me, freedom to dance all night without self consciousness awareness of rules imposed on you.I am free here and alive. That is more important to me than fast internet access (well most of the time) or new clothes or gadgets

Saying goodbye to paradise

Carlos left yesterday.

We spent his last 4 days in Africa together as luckily he missed his flight home on Friday. Convincing himself that his flight was at 3.45 pm rather than 2.15 , he came to work with me at Kenyatta hospital on Fri am. When he finally arrived at the airport at 2 pm, his flight had left and there was nothing left to do but stay with me 4 more days.

I am reminded of a book called "a woman's world", edited by the great Irish travel writer Dervila Murphy, who wrote about the relationships women encounter when they travel alone on their journey.

First of all, women share relationships with local women due to common bonds of children, and family. Often I been invited to a family home by a woman in a shared taxi or in the back of a horse drawn cart. Passing through markets, I brush arms with other women looking for the best deal on clothes or vegetables.

An invite from a woman is less threatening and for the most part, I accept as I get a rare glimpse into the household of a local family. Usually I offer to cook, but I am often ushered into a reception room as a guest and not allowed to help. I haven't a clue how to cook Ugali or chapati anyway and would make a mess.

Then there are the relationships with children. This I love most of all.

Today, I spent the morning in a Special Unit for children with intellectual disabilities in Nairobi. I was touched by one affectionate child, who hugged me every few minutes, proclaiming I was his new rafiki (friend) and when snack time came around, he shared every bite of food he had with me. First mandazi (donut), then chapati... he wasn't the only one. Every child in the room naturally shared their food with the child sitting beside him.

I couldn't help comparing them to the spoilt brats I have worked with in the past, who have tantrums when asked to share their toys.

As for the relationships with men, these are the most complicated for women travelling alone. Often I find though, men in otherwise hostile terrain, view a lone western woman as vulnerable and go out of their way to assist and help in a rather macho but welcoming manner. In Pakistan I have experienced a barrage of questions about why my father or brother allow me to travel in such a manner but usually this is accompanied by an invite to their home to meet their wives or children. Women in Pakistan are usually accompanied by males even to the market and are never out alone.

There are always unwanted advances as one would encounter at home. Travel has taught me to be alert and friendly where ever possible as even a hostile situation can be defused with patience and compassion. If someone says "hello", I reply, even if he wants me to buy a pair of socks I don't need or an expensive Dhow trip that I cant afford. Friendliness doesn't cost anything and creates a better atmosphere when travelling alone. Plus you can glean very useful information about the region with a quick exchange on the side of a street, information you will not find in any "Lonely Planet"

The worst thing about travel is the goodbyes. I have had more intense 4 or 9 day relationships than 9 year relationships. Days spent with travel buddies amount to weeks or months at home as we fit our friends and family in at weekends and around busy schedules. You can get to know someone very well on the back of a 10 hour bus, bumping along unpaved roads, with a chicken on your lap, laughing or enduring loss or theft as is the case in Africa also.

Everything is intensified and maybe thats why I travel so much. I need to intensify my life, to put a frame around my life and say this is it. I only get one chance and I am going to enjoy all of it.

The goodbyes are still hard but I have learned to mellow with travel. I have learned that you must let people go and not hold on to them.

So as the swans come to drink at your palm, they must also be allowed to fly away again (woman's world ref)

You say goodbye often and hello even more times. Eventually it balances itself out and the result is an interesting mix of friends from all over the world, many on facebook.

Hello to all of you I have met on the road

till we meet again...

As for you women out there who comment that you would love to travel as I do but do not have the courage to travel, its 2010 afterall. Decades of feminism and still I hear this.

Would you ever hear a man say " I dont have the courage to do x, y or z". Rather "I want to go to x,y or z, what is the best way..."

Get off the couch girls, take out the lonely planet, rucksack, antimalarials and get travelling. Escape the recession!

Hotel Cliff beach villas

Well just returned from paradise, Zanzibar island, where I spent 12 amazing days. Most days were spent on the beach rusting my skin as Kenyan children would say. I rusted so much, I turned pink, then purple patches and now parts of me are white again.

I headed to Zanzibar alone on the 18th as I couldn't wait for the other volunteers who were traveling overland ooch on the 22nd. I flew with fly540 only to be greeted by customs who insisted that Irish citizens should pay 100 dollars for the visa. I didn't have such currency on me so luckily a chap from the dive centre at Kendwa beach helped me out. I still made a scene if only for the drama of it. I do like confrontations

I met Jose Carlos, a Spanish beach boy, on my second day. Like the local beach boys, he spent his days hanging out, chatting, laughing and making sure he had a good time.

Me alegre que verte Carlos. Hasta pronto en Nairobi

I have been practising my Spanish ever since. Swahili is taking longer

Christmas eve and day were spent on the beach and nights in Kendwa rocks and Sunset dancing till 3. How the locals dance here. Dancing just for the pure enjoyment of it. No self consious behaviour. Pure rhythm and lots of practice.

Beach boys work out on the beach everyday. Some of them are bursting out of their own bodies in muscle. Its too much for my delicate sensibilities. Little hassle here, a welcome relief from the constant hussle and hastle of Nairobi

Then it was time to leave for Tiwi beach, Kenya
Thats where we checked into Cliff Beach villas and then the drama really began
I managed to get bitten by a stone fish on the first night followed by bed bugs on the second night! Great way to ring in the new year!

I also discovered that I left some of my clothes in Zanzibar, only my favourite ones of course. A fiasco with the laundry in Malindi guesthouse, Stonetown caused this as well as my own carelessness when rushed and under pressure to move.

Its very difficult to rush when one has turned into a beach girl not that I was ever known for my punctuality

Here is a poem written by the hilarious Racheal Tuckley, a VSO volunteer, about our 4 day New Years experience at Cliff beach villas:

Hotel Cant Afford Ya

On a long matatu highway,
hot wind in my hair
Warm smell of old tilapia
up through the air
At the end of a long bumpy road,
I finally saw lightsI was looking forward to chilling out,
We were due to stay 4 nights

There we stood in the doorway;
We heard warning bells,
We were thinking to ourselves,
This could be heaven or this could be hell
She asked for my valuables and,
told us her family way,
Don’t you trust me, she said,
and we thought…It’s only for a few days…

Welcome to the hotel cliff beach villa
Such a dodgy place
Such a potential space
Plenty of scope at the hotel cliff beach villa
But you can’t be cool - no water in the pool

Her mind seems definitely twisted,
has she got the paranoid bends?
She got a few masaai and askari boys,
weirdly don’t wanna be friends
How we laid in our bedrooms,
trying not to sweat.
Most days to remember,
every night to forget

So we talked to the captain,
she said, ‘I don’t want to shout…
Please don’t bad mouth me…
I should have thrown you all out’
How does she hear our talking from so so far away???
Flooding wakes you up in the middle of the night
How much longer shall we stay?

Welcome to the hotel cliff beach villa
Over-priced food
Will put you in a mood
Breaking into your room at the hotel cliff beach villa
What a nice surprise,
if your towel arrives

No water in the toilet,
No champagne, or ice,
And we thought we are all just visitors here,
of our own device
And in various mattresses
Bed bugs gathered for a feast,
We don’t know who last slept in these beds,
Maybe they were deceased?!!!

Last thing I remember,
we were Squirming to our cab
And trying to negotiate fairly
Without feeling too
We destroyed our financial details…
And she shouted as we leave…
“Please don’t destroy my property”…
and“Were you talking about me?”

Now I'm relaxing in another paradise.
How much fun can one woman have?

Donkeys are the mode of trasnport here.
I walk to the beach everyday, passing a maze of narrow streets, lined with pink flowers and coral stones. Kids yell out "jambo, jambo" beach boys "do you want a boat ride" or :wannw ride a donkey today?No hastle if you dont want anything. I walk right on by.

Ninjas warriors and Massai watch me stroll the streets,
wondering where I have come from and how much money I have

I feel slightly underdressed when walking alongside muslim women in their black veils or Bui Bui

So thats all the news of Christmas.
I hope you all had a wonderful time and hope to see you soon.
My friends are in my thoughts as always

Impunity and the Siamese twins

The headlines of the Daily Nation today read:
"How corrupt officials stole free primary school cash"

Several senior officers at the Ministry of Education were suspended for misappropriating 37 million shillings (370,000 euro). The money was donated by DFID (UK international Devleopment fund) for free primary education for 100, 00o children. The report states that payments were effected through 44 payment vouchers, involving 29 senior officials. The funds were embezzled through fraudulent accounting used supposedly in workshops and training. DFID has since withheld 1.2 billion for Free Primary Education untill audit queries are addressed, culprits charged and cash recovered.

Donors are pulling out due to the corruption. Thousands of innocent children will be affected and may not be able to go to school next year because of greedy officials who were employed to act in their best interests.

Impunity

This is what it means in Kenya: embezzlement, corruption, lying, stealing, and openly to as if people are not accountable for breaking the law if they caught


Today, I received a referral from an OT about Siamese twins joined at the stomach, sharing a liver and other vital organs. Their parents have abandoned them, leaving them at Kenyatta National Hospital, to be cared for by the nursing team, who do their best to look after them.

Their abandonment has caused a few issues.

Firstly, the parents have not signed consent for surgery so the twins may face many years of being bedridden, rather than having an actual chance at living

Secondly, due to the lack of stimulation, the children haven't learned to speak yet.

They are 1 year 3 months and are spoken to in several different languages depending on which nurse attends to them: Kikuya, Kiswahili, and English by their Irish Speech & Language Therapist; Somali, their mother tongue by their parents who occasionally come to visit.

I met them today for the first time. They are learning to stand with the help of the dedicated Occupational Therapist. They reached for me today and one of them actually pulled a rib of my hair out from the root...painful!!

They have been abandoned because the parents live far away on the coast and don't know what to do with them. Disability is a major stigma here and brings shame on the family. I'm guessing this is part of the problem but I can't be sure as I haven't met the family. There is also the risk that one of them may die as they share vital organs. The parents may fear they will loose one or both of them.

Nevertheless, the father has given up hope and isn't involved in their care

Doctors have consulted a surgeon in China who has performed a similar surgery with success.

We are waiting to hear. Its in the hands of the therapists now to improve their quality of life

So I'm on the management team.My first case of Siamese twins with language delay
I am looking forward to seeing them again in Jan. Today, I just did a brief consultation with advice for the nursing team.


Apart from work, I'm heading to Zanzibar to begin my Christmas holidays. Not that you would know Christmas is coming. All the annoying stuff is omitted. No Christmas carols, or crazy shoppers or christmas parties. Just people awaiting time off work to be spent with their family upcountry.

No gifts or special food. Just another day off with no fuss

Thats the way I like it. This year, no fuss. Rather, sunshine, swimming, spice tours, going out to new places on a tropical island, snorkeling, not worrying about what I wear.

Flip flops and a syrong, vest top too. No makeup

Simple and easy and fun. Zero stress

Can't wait

Happy Christmas to all at home

I'll text on Christams day

The hospital, new apartment and Christmas plans

So I have finally moved out of the Mbagathi way apartment.. away from the constant noise of traffic and over to the peaceful grounds of Kingara Road, near Lavington. What a culture shock the move has been. I feel as though I have left Africa momentarily..

There is a pool downstairs which no one uses as the water is too cold; the house woman cleans the house twice per week and there is a TV, not that Kenyan TV is that spectacular but at least I can watch Brothers & Sisters and other gems like North & South (upper class woman from London in 19th century moved to Milton and falls for industrialist- new money so she has to compromise...all that English reserve, the slow burning romance is developing nicely..its wonderful.

Anyway besides watching DVDs, I have been very busy at the hospital. My colleague lost his father in law and as man of the house, he is expected to look after everybody else so he has taken indefinite leave, which means that instead of showing up late at 11 am for work, he doesn't come in at all. I have inherited his caseload. My door is always open. As one client walks out, another one walks in.

Sometimes, I need a translator as parents communicate only in Kiswahili. When this happens, I shout outside my door, "ANYONE HERE SPEAK ENGLISH? GREAT FOLLOW ME AND TRANSLATE FOR ME PLEASE."
and then some poor sod from the waiting room, who popped in for a hearing test, is conducting a speech and language assessment in English and Kiswahili! So much for confidentiality!

Speaking of confidentiality, there is none. People walk in and out of my room as if its their living room; to chat, wash their hands or tell me all the intimate details of the next client's medical history, in the middle of my session.

People are not big on privacy either. People stare in the window to see what I'm up to. I am slowly getting used to this but it takes a lot of patience and cultural sensitivity.

And then there is the constant searching for the file. When a client comes to see me, they pay a fee of 500 shillings to open a file. Sounds straightforward but not in K. Hospital. This process can take anything from 10 minutes to 30 minutes. Meanwhile, I'm sitting in front of the client wondering whyon earth they were referred to me as it may not be immediately obvious.

I have become a lecturer to 4 foreign audiology students..bright 20 somethings from Nigeria, Uganda, and Kenya. They seem so focused, motivated and eager to learn, unlike many students I know (I myself only focused in 4th year, dossing my way through 3 years of lectures and practicals)

So, I'm having a christmas party next weekend. Just a few mojitos and beers before heading out next Friday night. If its nice, it might even turn into a pool party (always wanted one of them).

Preparations for Christmas are beginning. Rather than shopping for a list of people, I have booked a cottage in Tiwi beach for New Years, bought a "forthy thieves" New Years Eve party ticket, a bus ticket to Dar Es Salaam and a room in Kendwa Rocks, Zanzibar...nice change from Sullivans in Gort

10 other volunteers are also coming so it should be a nice crowd. Looking forward to 3 weeks of beach time! Well thats all the news from Nairobi.

Goodbye and Goodluck

My brother's wedding

Ollie and Leanne got married on Sat 14th November in Cashel church, Connemara. I was glad I could make it. It only took 14 hours to get there-Nairobi to London flight, London to Dublin flight, Dublin to Galway bus and car trip deep into the wilds of Connemara.

So back in Ireland again after 3 months in the Dark Continent. Funny enough, it was Ireland that was dark. Grey growling clouds threatening rain, or sleet and then torrential rain the rest of the time. Very few people seem to carry umbrellas and of course it's unsightly to wear a bag over your head as is the fashion in Nairobi when it rains. And the pain in people's faces when it rains, their mental health taking a nosedive untill the bleakness passes, if it does. It is grim when it rains in Ireland.

Luckily, there was no rain on the day of the wedding. My mother had put a "child of Prague statue" under the hedge and prayed for weeks for sunshine. I don't believe in piseogs but it seemed to work.

People arrived from the US- my first cousins Patrick, Yvonne and aunty Rena; Ollie's friend Eamonn from the Jersey shore, many fun people from Kilimordaly, a general sprinkling of people from all over. Elaine arrived from Florence, where she is working very hard drinking red wine, eating pasta and researching law.

The church ceremony was surprisingly the funniest part of the entire event. The priest must have watched and rehearsed Father Ted because he was in fact Fr. Ted. He spoke about the holy sanctity of marraige by referring to how women and men fall in love, from experience of course, and how to have a fight before you go to bed to clear your head or wait the next day and through dishes at your partner's head if you feel like it. He spoke about how single couples walk hand in hand and then proceed to one walking in front of the other. In general, tips on how to survive a marraige.

The prayers of the faithful were executed with grace and precision, having been rehearsed twice live. I blame myself. My cousin asked me if it was time for the prayers just before the first reading which I was in charge of. I, so focused on the first reading from Tobiet, responded yes and then all five of them trapsed after me up to the altar for company. They got a clap on the way down though and were ready for the next time they were actually called to say the prayers of the faithful. Dave forgot his and read out cousin Elaine's part. She was hiding in back of the church. She said later that he made a much better job of it than she would have.

I was like the paparazzi for the day. Armed with my Rebel XT super power Cannon camera, I made sure to capture people usually with their mouths open or crossing their hands yelling "no more" or dancing at the disco. Eamonn S has some crazy moves on the dance floor. A mixture of finger pointing, floor sliding, standing on chair routine and hip girating, all with a broken collar bone. He had broken it while attempting a somersault in Sullivans (classic disco in Gort) the week before. As one man said, its dangerous at 25 but even worse at 35.

My Dad gave a moving speech, welcoming Galway hurlers to the event and of course Leanne, saying "he wouldn't have chosen better himself".

Ollie spoke about how lucky he was to have Leanne and how much our parents have done for them. My mother Agnes, who saved lives during the day and looked after five brats and Paddy as well. She deserved that bunch of flowers and much more. Ollie spoke about how Dad had written the book on how to live well and supported him through years of hurling training, blaming the referee or Joe Rabbitt if he had not played well. It was emotional and I was proud of them

By the end of the meal, jet lag kicked in, but first the Old Timers band and much later the disco. If you would like to view pictures of the disco shenanigans, view my facebook page.

Now I'm back in Nairobi. Back to the sunshine, blue skies, few shillings and the noise. Unlike the peace of Connemara, this place keeps you alert and awake even when you are supposed to be sleeping. I'm getting up at seven to the sound of horn beeping, and the constant buzz of cars and matatus.

It was worth the trip. I met great people, caught up with old friends and even managed to fit in the Ireland vs France game on Wednesday where Ireland were cheated out of the World Cup. Great company that night despite the loss. I had to leave McSorley's pub in Ranelagh just before Thiery Henry struck the ball twice with his hand. I can't believe I am writing about football in my blog. Africa is really changing me!