The fansidar dilemma

You may have received, as I did, a flier in the mail recently, touting Peace Corps Week 2008 and encouraging you to share your PC story. I've done this off and on over the past 20 years, usually with local school children, the most recent being my oldest daughter's eighth-grade social studies class last spring. I turned my slide show into a PowerPoint presentation and really enjoyed recounting the G-rated — and occasionally PG-rated — tales of my Kenyan sojourn. Most folks are appreciative; even those of my co-workers with whom I share my more ribald PC experiences get a chuckle or two out of them ... at least until they have to remind me that they've heard this one or that one before. Of course, I still tell them, ignoring the groans of those fortunate to be hearing such enlightening and humorous yarns for the fourth or fifth time.

Anyway, thumbing through the glossy little pamphlet gave me pause to consider this story-sharing business. The first couple of years after I got back, I was asked by the PC recruiters on the campuses of my alma mater, the University of Idaho, and Washington State University (alma mater of the iconic Tom Tuttle) to speak to students who were interested in joining the Peace Corps. I was honored and happy to do it.

The first time I did this, things went off pretty much without a hitch — I encapsulated my experiences, said it was the coolest adventure I'd ever had and endorsed the Peace Corps as a cheap way to learn about another part of the big blue marble. The second episode took a different turn, however. About halfway through the session, one of the half dozen students who'd come to hear about the experiences of myself and two other RPCV asked us whether we'd ever gotten sick while we were serving. I told the young woman that I'd had the usual illnesses: dysentery, staph infections, chiggers, the usual stuff. But she wanted to know if I'd ever been on death's doorstep, and since I wasn't going to lie, I told her that I'd had a knockdown-drag-out with the Big M, malaria.

Everybody's ears perked up when I said that, especially the ones attached to the recruiters. The students wanted to hear the details, so I explained how, early in my third year, I'd spent the better part of three days curled up in the fetal position with spiking fever and hellacious body aches, vomiting up everything I tried to ingest, including the three fansidar tablets that were the supposed cure for the parasite that was resistant to chloraquine. I mentioned that, while I had taken my weekly chloraquine pill religiously, I had made the decision early on to violate Peace Corps policy and not take fansidar unless I thought I had contracted full-blown malaria. (The genesis for this decision was a series of conversations I had with Keith, Diana and Jaime during training about the harmful long-term effects of a sulfonamide-based drug such as fansidar. So I blame them.)

Anyway, that admission set off the alarm bells with one of the recruiters and he quickly tried to cut me off, saying something like, "Geez, look at the time ... " They hastily wrapped up the program and, while I did answer a couple more questions from students in the hallway afterward, it was the last time I ever got an official engraved PC invite to speak to prospective volunteers. Not that I'm complaining, really; it's just an amusing reminder that bureaucracy rules and you should never rock the boat.

It also got me to thinking about our various experiences in this regard. So, I'm curious how the rest of you approached the fansidar dilemma back in the day, as well as whether any of you had a four-alarm "homa" story you'd care to share. Since, y'know, we've been encouraged to share our stories and all that stuff.

Hauoli Makahiki Hou

(I don't have snail mail addresses for all of you, so I thought I'd just post my year-in-review letter here to our groovy new blog. I had to do a little editing since it seems that exclamation marks are not allowed characters in our postings -- so you all will just have to insert you own enthusiasm/exclamations in the appropriate places.) CHEERS -- Koco

Mele Kalikimaka e Hauoli Makahiki Hou

Greetings as we near the close of 2007. It’s been several years since I’ve managed to do more than think about a year-end/holiday letter. (Somehowly, my ability to simply *think* things into being has not magically materialized.) I guess after 10+ years of doing them I got a bit lazy. But, here I am, back by popular demand, since a bunch of you’ve written or called to ask either: “What’s up with that?” or “Why’d you drop me from your list?” Also, I’ve fallen off some of your lists and have missed out on hearing your year-end tales as well. So indulge me and let this serve as an effort to get back in touch or get in better touch, whichever the case may be. I’ll ease back into the routine by doing a photo collage highlighting the last couple of years and keeping it light-hearted. I’ll spare you all the therapeutic insights of the last couple of years – at least in this letter -- if you want to have a good cry and an even better laugh you’ll have to come for a visit and we’ll share a tear and a loud guffaw over a hot cup of something or other. As for the photos, if there’s something that gets you wondering, you’ll just have to drop me a line and ask for an explanation! (Burning questions such as: Who are those outrageously cute kids? What’s with the green leaves? Did the wolf disguised as the Granny eat Little Red? Where’d you get that elephant?)

Here’s a very brief update. I am still based in Northern California (yes, the lovely LEFT coast). I still enjoy hula. I still have my house in Oakland – do my own garden/yard work, tiled my own guest shower, haven’t finished the upstairs bathroom. Work-wise I still divide my time between 1) supporting the Hawaii-focused and environmental do-good-weenie work of my philanthropist boss at the Pohaku Fund and 2) doing independent public health consulting work. My boss at Pohaku very generously allows me to take time off from assisting him so that I can do brief (and not so brief) stints overseas; most recently in Mozambique, but also in Tanzania* and several trips to India* in the last couple of years. This combination provides terrific balance for me particularly given the very hard-won lessons resulting from serious work-related burnout and the associated personal life neglect. The job/consulting combo lets me keep snacks in the d.o.g. Henry’s* mouth, keep both my plants and my friendships* alive, not get kicked out of hula*, and gratefully do work that matters to me and hopefully serves others.

Here’s to you and yours, wishing the very very very very best in the coming year.

P.S.
The * means to look for related clues in the pictures.

P.S.S.
Somehowly, the Kenya RPCVs might get it.

Heartland Hush

That is jack's Tucson at left. It will always be home to my 4 year old, he has a building there, certain trees, a mall, Sun River Apartments.....forever. He moved East with mommy, sister, and lil-brother in June. Daddy came in September, back to the heartland. it was a tough sell for me having ran as fast as i could, then driven likewise, outta there in '79. But ailing parents and a pledge to follow them home, brought me back to Indiana. I'm still trying to figure it out. Within 3 months I got a house, did not really buy it...does anyone do that anymore..., moved by myself 1,850 miles (the Penske truck rocked -- made it to Indiana in about 45 hours straight through....a little crooked in Oklahoma), unpacked and flew back to Tucson for a month and a half, quit a good job, flew back to Indiana thanks to Southwest overselling, looked for work for 1 month and started stocking shelves at Kroger 3rd shift. Seems like I was doing this same thing, almost a bunch of years ago when I was 17...freaky.

I was in Dakar, Senegal in 2003 when my pops called asking if I was ever coming home...seems like I left with out telling them in '79, boy was I in trouble. Their health and ability to care for each other in question, they were reaching out.....a week later I'd left my business of 8 years, packed 4 suitcases and Sharon up and landed in Tucson, truly another part of the planet.

It is mofo hot in Tucson, and people are moving there like hell. All the california exiles and mexican-norte hopefuls have changed the place dramatically. Houses everywhere, 1,500 square feet for 230,000 and fools are buying them, or trying too. Absolutely nuts.

And today it is mofo cold...my wife wanted seasons and cold..i tried to warn her..and it's only the first week or two of winter. We have survived worse, but damn I hate to be cold. Started at netfor LLC., last week. A small Indiana grown teleservices company eyeing growth, lucky for me. The "internationalists" that convinced me Indiana had changed and INDY was a place to be having moved several rungs down the ladder on the I know who can use you scale aside, we'll make a go of it here and try and grow something back home (Senegal) now. AND you thought Kenya was quirky...sheeesh. Spent nearly 8 years there from '96. Survived, got divorced, got married, and got out with the clothes on our backs.....but more on that later.

From the Third Coast

Hey, it's 'Mike from Michigan'.

I think this blog idea is great.  I don't know how much/often I will be able to contribute, but I will certainly try.  Somebody has to represent the trilingual illiterates among us.  Yep, this means that I only understood about half of what all you folks were saying in Swahili when we were in Kenya.  Now twenty years later (twenty years . . .  how did that happen?),  I strain a temporal lobe just trying decipher half of what I used to understand in Swahili.  Despite my language deficits (I've been described as being barely lingual, let alone bilingual), I still use Swahili words and Kenyan place names for almost all my passwords (I wonder how many of you do the same).

Quick update:  got married to classmate (Leyla Moossavi) in third year of medical school('92);  first child (Sara) born in fourth year medical school ('94); somehow survived residency years ( Family Medicine for me and Ob/Gyn for Leyla) to eventually start practice in a rural health center in an under-served area near my hometown.  Second child (Jack-'97) born at end of residency; third (& final?) child (Camran) born in '02; raising kids in the home I grew up in.

I would love to read updates from the rest of you.  I did get caught up a little bit recently when Diana King and I attended the same medical conference and shared a few meals.  

More important than an update, I truly hope we can get a group together this coming summer ('08).  After top level negotiations with both my wife and my office manager it looks as though I can bring the Stack/Moossavi crew out to the Seattle area in late July-early August '08.  Would that time period work for the rest of you?  What dates don't work for people?  Any ideas on what a reunion in the Seattle area would look like?  One event?  More than one (maybe one with and one without kids)?   Let's hear from people and get the ball rolling.

My top 10 list of things I miss from our Peace Corps days (Brian, I loved your list):

10.  Milk that was still warm delivered to my doorstep every morning.

9.  When asking for directions, receiving the same answer no matter where I was going (don't make me say it).

8  Softball games against the Japanese volunteers in Kisumu.

7.  Mail in my mailbox.

6.  Traveling on the night train.

5.  The short rains when a brief, intense storm would roll through the hills around Kisii only to surrender to the sun in a brilliant rainbow.

4.  Jay Hotchkiss describing the "total body massage" experience we would all get when 'standing in line' in Kenya.

3.  Keith Clay telling a story about anything.

2.  Anything that Suzanne (Pope) Mathews cooked/baked.

1.  A pombe with anyone of you.

Hope you all are well.

Mike

Edtiors, start your keyboards ...

I see several of you have accepted the invitation to join this blog — salama sana. And thank you, Koco, for the positive feedback (nice mugshot, BTW).

A couple of quick notes:

— You may be curious as to why this blog is called "Mambo Kiboko" instead of the tradtional "Mambo Vipi." Well, that name, while unspeakably groovy, was already taken, by somebody in Kenya, of all places. Here's the link to the blog, if you'd like to brush up on your Kiswahili. Anyway, "Mambo Kiboko" was available, so I grabbed it. Hope it works for everybody.

— I have sent out invitations to 22 or our fellow RPCVs because those were all the e-mail addresses I had at my disposal. Please feel free to forward contact information for anyone else you think might be interested in participating and I will then launch invitations their way. Or maybe you can even do it yourselves, I don't actually know. Give it try.

Now, if you're wondering where we go from here, join the club. I have this notion that we could share our stories, both PC-flavored and otherwise (a favorite pastime of mine, much to my co-workers' chargin) or it could just be a central information hub for reconnecting with each other and/or planning possible reunions in the future. Whatever you folks think we should do. You all have the ability to post to this blog, in any fashion you see fit. So in the immortal words of Obi Wan Kenobi, "Use the Force, Luke ... use the Force ..."

I have started a subsidiary blog, the link to which you will see at your left, where I will most likely babble on about nothing of significance because, well that's how I roll. Like I said, I don't know how these blog thingees work, but I figure I'll just jump in feet first and see how buoyant I am.

In this regard, I will now post "The Five Things that I Miss Most about Kenya":

5. Walking down the streets of Lamu wearing a dress while holding hands with another man.

4. Chewing miraa and drinking pombe until the sun comes up then amazing all my friends by going right to sleep.

3. Playing basketball with my students as the sun is setting and the sweet smell of ugali and maharagwe wafts past the court.

2. Sitting on my porch in the warm evening watching the bats circle my house.

And the No. 1 thing I miss about Kenya:

1. Rekoda (You know what I'm talking about.)

Karibuni, wazazi

Welcome to Mambo Kiboko, the online edition. Grab a warm Tusker, a kilo of miraa and let’s mazungumzo a spell.

I have conjured up this blog in the hopes that it will serve as an information clearinghouse for the kuishiukingoni crowd, the group of returned Peace Corps volunteers — teachers and otherwise — who served in Kenya, East Africa, from 1985 to 1987.

I have sent invitations to you all in the hopes that we can post updates, contact information, recollections and vintage photographs from our experiences. I have limited the access to the site to those who have received — or will in the future receive — invitations.

From here, we can post links to our various Web sites, be they blogs, work-related, photo-sharing sites such as Flickr, or what have you. We will all have editing capabilities and say in where this goes, if anywhere.

Basi sasa. Tuzungumzo badaaye.