Leaving Tsavo my driver Peter told me we needed to run by somewhere before he got me back to the Petrol Station to meet up with Steve, Ronnie, and Zach. By now I was used to the African way of taking ones time. I was worried we would be late and keep everyone, but he said it was all fine. In the Kenyan culture one if never in a hurry and time is not the minute it is in the States. Being one that always runs late I have to admit I kind of liked this, but I realized how American I really am by worrying about the time so much!
As we drove out of Tsavo back into the "real world" of Kenya I was immediately reminded of the poverty. Once again we were back to the dirt homes with tin roofs and children running around barefoot. Peter then drove me down one of these streets full of potholes and red dust and announced we had to run by his house! He got out then came back into the safari van, drove around the block, then came back to his house where a beautiful young woman and cute little boy waited for us. It was his wife Diana and his son Silverstein. I had remembered then that Peter had told me about his wife and how she had gone to fashion school. He said she did some bead work. I knew that he also wanted to take me by his friend's curio shop. Shopping in Kenya is lots of fun when you know how much things should cost for an African and can be very stressful when you have no idea how much you are supposed to pay and they seller assumes you have lots of money as a "white person". Since I was on my own it was a bit more stressful at our first stop. After passing lots of people wearing their Sunday best coming home from church we arrived at a dimly lit building full of African art. The gentleman who owned it opened the doors just for me and I got to shop to my hearts content. All of the art is so beautiful... wood carvings, beaded jewelry, baskets, batiks... I took a good look around and choose a couple of batiks, a kanga (a printed cloth worn like a skirt with an African proverb printed on it), and some hand carved small wooden animals. I felt good giving back to the community of Voi by making a small purchases. It brought the phrase "Buy Local" a different meaning. Maybe the bumper sticker we see in my hometown of Asheville, NC should say, "Buy Where You Are".... or something like that.
As we drove out of Tsavo back into the "real world" of Kenya I was immediately reminded of the poverty. Once again we were back to the dirt homes with tin roofs and children running around barefoot. Peter then drove me down one of these streets full of potholes and red dust and announced we had to run by his house! He got out then came back into the safari van, drove around the block, then came back to his house where a beautiful young woman and cute little boy waited for us. It was his wife Diana and his son Silverstein. I had remembered then that Peter had told me about his wife and how she had gone to fashion school. He said she did some bead work. I knew that he also wanted to take me by his friend's curio shop. Shopping in Kenya is lots of fun when you know how much things should cost for an African and can be very stressful when you have no idea how much you are supposed to pay and they seller assumes you have lots of money as a "white person". Since I was on my own it was a bit more stressful at our first stop. After passing lots of people wearing their Sunday best coming home from church we arrived at a dimly lit building full of African art. The gentleman who owned it opened the doors just for me and I got to shop to my hearts content. All of the art is so beautiful... wood carvings, beaded jewelry, baskets, batiks... I took a good look around and choose a couple of batiks, a kanga (a printed cloth worn like a skirt with an African proverb printed on it), and some hand carved small wooden animals. I felt good giving back to the community of Voi by making a small purchases. It brought the phrase "Buy Local" a different meaning. Maybe the bumper sticker we see in my hometown of Asheville, NC should say, "Buy Where You Are".... or something like that.
We then got back into the safari van with all my goods and I realized we were already an hour behind schedule! No worries, though..... we got gas at the gas station before we pulled up to a series of small shacks. I could feel the enthusiasm of Diana as she proudly got out and walked up to one of the doors and unlocked it. She then told me it was her shop! She had her own little studio no bigger than a walk in closet and she told me this was her start at her new profession of fashion designer. I couldn't help but be excited for her. She had lots of plastic bead bracelets and earrings and a series of purses she had sewn from different fabrics. She was so alive and bubbly as she sifted through piles of fabric until she came upon a stack of photos. The photos were real friends of her wearing the clothes she had designed. We carefully looked through each photo from wedding gowns to small children in matching outfits. I felt connected to her and wondered if I might had been the first Western woman to see her designs. It was then that I was wowed again by the generosity and spirit of the Kenyan people. Diana picked up a bracelet and said, "to bless you" and attempted to put it on my wrist until we both embarrassingly realized the bracelet was way too small to go over my hand! We both laughed and we said something about fishing line vs elastic beading thread. I then pointed to some natural necklaces made of mwarugani seeds that Diana dyed herself. I ended up buying two necklaces and she then blessed me with a bracelet (that fit) and matched. Her enthusiasm was contagious and I knew exactly how she felt (or how I felt when I sold art out of my own studio). I knew the thrill and the nervousness that comes with sharing your sacred space with another.