Before leaving for Kenya, we were taught a special handshake by the executive director of The Pangea Network, the non-profit organization we were interning with for the summer.

The Pangea Network is a women and youth empowerment organization operating all over Kenya and also in the US. They provide training in business, women’s rights, reproductive health, nutrition, and a variety of other topics to cooperatives of impoverished women across Kenya. After the women of the cooperative graduate from the six-month training, they are given loans from Pangea to help them develop and grow their businesses.

Ok. Back to the handshake.

The handshake involves holding the inside of your shaking hand’s elbow with your non-shaking hand and then proceeding with the handshake as normal (I have not yet mastered it). You use the handshake when you are meeting someone of high social status, say an elder or leader of some kind, and you want to demonstrate respect. On the eve of our first field visit to the Pangea cooperatives of Western Kenya, Naomi and I were practicing this novel handshake fervently, perhaps making a fool of ourselves in the office conference room. Naomi is my fellow Pangea intern and travel buddy, by the way, and is usually the other half of any time I use “we.” Anyway, we planned to use this new handshake with every Pangea cooperative member we met, in addition to just generally anyone we were introduced to. By the time we embarked on the about 8-hour drive to Homabay, a western county on the coast of Lake Victoria, I’d say our handshake game was in a pretty good spot.

The Handshake

What they do not prepare you for, when you are studiously practicing your handshake, is what to do when the other person is also using the special handshake.

However, this is exactly what happened every single time we would meet the women in the cooperatives.

I was under the impression that this handshake was kind of a one-sided affair; I mean, that’s the whole point. But now we’re both grabbing our elbows, slightly hunched over, and the kicker: we’re awfully confused. For me, I thought I was demonstrating respect to their authority and experience, and yet obviously, they thought the exact same thing.

This authority and experience of mine was certainly news to me.

Our first experience meeting the women was at a graduation ceremony for one of the cooperatives. They had just completed their six-month training and would now begin the process of applying for and receiving their loans. After the aforementioned handshakes were complete, their idea was that we would sit at the intentionally empty chairs at the front (analogous to where a commencement speaker would sit). We did not get the memo and stood around awkwardly for about five minutes trying to figure out if there was some place in the corner out of the way they considerately planned for us to observe from, or if we’d need to ask. Eventually, someone beckoned for us to sit in those guest of honor chairs, and we finally sat down. After we’d introduced ourselves and received two distinct rounds of applause from the group, the graduation proceeded wonderfully. The women gave speeches about the impact the training had on their lives, read poetry, and performed a crane dance that we were pulled into. It was so much fun, and everyone was incredibly welcoming.

A Graduating Cooperative in Homa Bay

The Gifted Chicken

The graduation concluded with lunch, where we sat next to the village chief and other elders, eating ugali (a kind of maize meal), chicken, and Managu (African Nightshade, not the poisonous kind!). I made small talk about the solar panels on their roof. After lunch, we took photos with the graduates. It seemed like everyone wanted to take a picture with just me or Naomi, with at a minimum of three different phones at once. By the fourth day of this, I think I finally learned how to smile on command. Before we left, the women were extremely generous and gifted us what seemed like endless quantities of maize, groundnuts (peanuts), fruits, and most excitingly, a chicken. The chicken currently lives at the home of Dorothy in Homabay, who is Pangea’s country director and basically our host mom in Nairobi.

When we returned to Dorothy’s house in Homabay, where we were staying, it kind of clicked for me. For the women in the cooperatives here, we were a big deal. Yet this was in complete contradiction to everything that I had thought going into the field visit. We had asked to drive all this way to meet the participants in Pangea’s programs, to interview them, to listen to their stories. It’s their successes on the Pangea website. For a moment, I tried to think of how I might have explained this point to the women we met. “Out of respect for you, I’m not going to sit in the chair that you kindly placed for me.” “Because I’m just a summer intern, I’m actually not going to be in that photo you’re trying to take with me.” “Please use a different handshake than the one you intended because you’re the important one here, not me.”

As I ran a few of these hypothetical interactions in my head, I realized that it would have been self-centered of me to tell the women of the cooperatives how they should view me. I realized that to practice empathy here and have respectful cross-cultural interactions, I needed to do my best to try to understand what my presence as a representative of Pangea from America might mean to the graduating women.

For me, it’s a privilege to visit and meet the women of the various cooperatives, and when they want a picture with me, I try to take one with everyone. It feels odd to be the guest of honor without having done anything honorable, but I’ve decided it is ok as long as I show every ounce of respect I can back.

In short, sure, I might be given a special handshake, but that is all the more reason to give the special handshake in return.

Me Wondering Where All My Giraffe Food Went

A Cool Rock and Naomi at Mount Longonot

Sunset Over Lake Victoria

I’ve been thinking this week about how much my emotional state can affect my reality. Although events that are disappointing, stressful, or exciting can somewhat affect an experience, my experience really comes from how I manage my emotional response to the situation. I’m someone who definitely feels my emotions on the 1-to-10 scale, meaning that I can feel incredibly happy or deeply devastated. This translates into my emotions really ruining, or amplifying, my experiences.

When I’m back in Home or at Rice, I’ve learned how to manage my negative emotions through adapting to one of my self-care tools. It’s easy for me to adjust a bad mood by hanging out with friends, calling family, going for a long walk, swimming, getting a yummy treat, or taking a break outside. However, here in Nairobi, where pretty much everything is different and I don’t necessarily have easy access to those options, I’ve had to learn how to change my mindset and perception.

I’m currently in Kenya through the Loewenstern Fellowship, working with The Pangea Network, a nonprofit focused on women and youth empowerment.

I’ve found that a situation is relative based on so many aspects. It can depend on who you are with, whether you have been there before, or other outside events, but I think your experience is primarily your emotional response to the situation. I’ve found over the past month that if I allow myself to become stressed or frustrated, I will succumb to that emotion for hours, ruining an experience for myself. But, if I try to change my emotional response even a little, it can really transform an experience.

It’s been a month—halfway through my time here in Kenya—which has naturally prompted a lot of reflection. I’ve reflected a lot on how this experience so far has shifted my views of myself and the world. And even in that larger reflection, I’ve noticed how much my emotions can decide that perception of an entire month. How was it difficult? How was it easy? Where did I learn the most so far? What other areas can I grow in? All these questions have answers that change dramatically based on my emotions.

I’ve reflected about this idea of perception especially after interviewing women business owners of the Agroupa Mandazi Women’s group last Friday. Note that Mandazi is a type of breakfast donut popular in Kenya (see photo below).

This Mandazi is lemon flavored!

This women’s cooperative received a micro-loan and training cycle years ago before the Covid Pandemic from the Pangea Network. They still functionally operate as a cooperative, with 20-some members, in Ongata Rongai, Kenya. Ongata Rongai, or Rongai, is the county right below Nairobi, and it only takes about 30-40 minutes to drive there.

Rongai main produce market

I didn’t know how many women from the group were willing to be interviewed, but once we arrived, we learned of the 7 women who wanted to share how the Pangea Network has changed their lives. Our interviews were focused on the impact of the loan and training on the success of their business revenue and quality of life.

We really didn’t stop for a break in-between any of the interviews across Rongai, given that almost all of the women have multiple children who come home from school in the evenings. As I listened to their stories throughout the day, I was, and still am, in awe of their bravery and resilience. They spoke of their hardships, in such a way not to get pity from me, but to truly speak to their experience of starting a business. Many of them emphasized the importance of remaining hopeful. That as long as they keep believing in this idea of hope, they will continue to survive.

To hear how they still are trying to expand their business, by moving to a larger location, or investing in new equipment, to care for their families, is so inspiring. One woman I spoke to shared how she is feeding not only her three children and her sister’s children, but also her mother and very sick brother. After she shared that emotional story, she then shifted in how she wants to expand her business location and how she actively discusses women’s rights in the market she works in. Her ability to seamlessly navigate her extremely difficult challenges with her strong sense of female entrepreneurship is inspiring.

It makes me think again of perception. These women could very much be negative, angry, and depressed; it would be fair and understandable. But, they continue to be hopeful, positive, and honestly, resilient. They’ve shifted their emotions to better adapt to their experience, thus making themselves succeed.

In some ways, what these women taught me during our conversation echoed the very lesson I’ve been learning in Nairobi myself: that resilience isn’t about avoiding discomfort, but about choosing how to respond to it. While I’ve been missing familiar comforts and tools to shift my mindset, these women reminded me that hope itself is a form of emotional discipline. It isn’t a great big decision for them—it’s cultivated inthe quiet everyday decisions, daily gratitude, and mindful practices.

I hope that I can continue to carry this idea of perception with me through the next month here. I also hope to bring these lessons back with me to Rice. Especially the idea that emotional discipline and perspective shape how we experience challenge and growth, both in and out of the classroom.

The people at Azadi, my community partner, are so welcoming. Every Monday, the one day the whole team meets at the resource center, they greet us with warm hugs, and we spend the first hour or so settling in and chatting over breakfast. On the day I arrived, one of the members gave me a Swahili name: Zuri, which I later learned means “beautiful.” We also begin every meeting with a round of check-ins. Before coming here, asking “How are you?” always felt like a formality, and answering “Good” was just my automatic response. But it’s been refreshing to see how much the team values honestly sharing how you feel, especially if you’re not doing the best, and expressing when you need time to rest and recover. The resource center – where meetings, wellbeing activities, and other programming take place – is an actual house, which feels fitting since the space is meant to feel like home. We eat meals together, collaborate on our work together, and engage in fun activities together. Everyone in the Azadi community, from the staff to the members, treats one another like family.

That sense of community has been especially grounding as I adjusted to a completely different pace of life. Although I’ve appreciated the break from Rice’s fast-paced grind and the typical 9-to-5 routine, the lack of structure most days was definitely an adjustment. I found myself getting anxious whenever I had too much spare time and didn’t know what to do with myself, especially during my first two weeks before my travel buddy arrived. But I’ve learned to use the spare time to my advantage and explore everything Nairobi had to offer. Some days I’d check out a café, thrift clothes, or take a stroll in the forest near where I live (it’s so lush and green here, which is something I’ll certainly miss when I return to the stretches of cement in Houston).

Karura Forest

There were also some moments that reminded me of Sri Lanka, the country where my parents immigrated from. For one, chapatis and samosas are popular snacks here in Kenya as well. The fruit stalls (fruits from here are tastier and cheaper compared to those at the grocery store!), markets selling hand-crafted items, and the overall atmosphere brought back memories of summers spent in Sri Lanka when I was younger. The auto rickshaws (known locally as tuktuks) were also a familiar sight. These three-wheeled vehicles are especially popular in the coast, and we rode one during an Uber trip. They have some other fun means of transportation as well, including boda bodas, which are motorcycle taxis… They’re exhilarating if you enjoy an adrenaline rush! But the most distinctively Kenyan form of transport has to be the matatus. These buses are covered in colorful graffiti, and no matter the time of day, they’re blasting upbeat music and flashing vibrant lights inside!

Matatu!

It’s been eye-opening to see how some everyday activities, ones you usually don’t think twice about, can turn into wild adventures in a foreign country. Take crossing the road, for instance. In Houston, it’s simple: wait at a crosswalk, then go when the light changes. But in Kenya, there aren’t really any crosswalks, pedestrian signals, or even traffic lights. Especially during rush hour, crossing the street becomes a feat. Driving seems like a whole other thing too… Even though the lanes are marked, they’re often treated more like suggestions (I still trust these drivers more than Houston drivers 😅)

Exploring the city also meant navigating some cultural and language barriers. While everyone at work could communicate in English, the preferred language was Swahili. In other words, whenever the team would talk casually among themselves, it was always in Swahili. Sometimes this made it challenging to join in on conversations, but it’s pushed me to take more initiative in starting conversations and learning a few words in Swahili as well! One that I’d become familiar with early on was “mzungu”, which is the Swahili word for foreigner.

One of the most rewarding parts of being here has been forming friendships with locals! We made a good friend here who’s been taking us around the city and introducing us to places we would’ve never found on our own. One morning, we visited Gikomba market, a massive and chaotic open-air market with vendors selling second-hand clothing imported from the U.S. and countries in Europe, which are now being sold for as little as 100 shillings (equivalent to around 75 cents). At the market, we didn’t come across a single other foreigner, which made it feel like a true hidden gem. It was definitely hectic and overwhelming at first, with narrow aisles packed with people, and vendors occasionally tapping us on the shoulder or calling out to get our attention, but I’m glad I got to experience the mitumba business, which is a major source of both employment and affordable clothing. Our local friend also introduced us to some foods I’ve never tried before. One was mabuyu, a street snack made from baobab seeds coated in sugar, spices, and coloring. A small bag costs just 10 shillings (less than 10 cents) and she showed us the proper way to eat it: let the coating dissolve in your mouth, then spit out the seed. I also tried some new tropical fruits like granadilla, which is similar to passionfruit, and super delicious.

Mabuyu, a street snack found in Kenya!

As I’m writing this, I still have a few weeks left to go in Kenya, and I’m excited for what awaits!

A week before leaving Houston, it finally hit me that I was doing this. I was going to Kenya. I wondered how my days would play out, how much time I’d spend alone, and whether I would be able to form relationships with my host family given that I am just a stranger. However, within one week of being in Kenya, I can say that I have never felt more welcomed to a new place. I was immediately greeted with smiles and hugs by my host family. Every day we eat all of our meals together, help clean up together and share stories of our upbringing. At times I even forget I am in Kenya. I have come to appreciate the value of spending time with people and simply having conversations with them. It has made me realize that I should make more of an effort to share meals with my family once I return to the U.S.

Aside from Kenya’s comforting welcome, I have also gone through some uncomfortable or rather just new experiences. On my second day of work, we had to go from the office to our home using a matatu, a popular form of public transportation. But this isn’t a regular bus, the driver isn’t afraid of anything. We ride 2 inches away from cars, and go on the dirt road to pick up new passengers. It was scary at first, but now I am going back home in a matatu every day! It’s an adrenaline rush I didn’t know I needed after a long day of work. Also, did I mention that they are pimped out, by that I mean TV screens, 5-foot speakers, and celebrity portraits on the inside or outside of the taxi/bus. As of now the coolest one of been in, had Mariah Carey’s face on its roof. Excited to continue this routine and to become familiar with the roads of Nairobi!

P.S. Here is a picture of a matatu for reference