that's all she wrote

Some snaps in Sierra Leone

2010-07-22T17:12:00.004+03:00

I have about 3,000 photos from Sierra Leone. For now, I'll keep it to two.

Sierra Leonean children have an exceptional knack for making noise. These little guys clapped and sang for at least 30 minutes and then started an impromptu parade. Unfortunately you can't hear them here. I'll see if I can figure out how to post a video we made.

Here I am. Nervously accepting a gift of 2 live chickens from a village chief:

Did I mention how much I love my job?

Shannon

Sierra Leone, trip #2 in June and July

2010-07-19T19:38:00.004+03:00

I may start going to Sierra Leone more frequently. This is wonderful for my professional and intellectual pursuits, but bad for blogging as a I routinely lack electricity and internet access.

There are plenty of things to love about Sierra Leone. The way people greet you by saying "How di bodi?" and maintain eye contact until you respond "Di bodi good." Or the way little kids make impromptu parades throughout the village when we arrive to collect data.

Here are a few conversations that underscore the charming side of the country...

Example 1: Greeting from Sierra Leonean colleauges after a 1-month hiatus:
"Ooooh Shaaanone. Praise Jesus. You look fine. So fine," said a colleague. "Doesn't Shaanone look so fine?"
(Lots of head-nodding)
"Especially in your face Shannon," she said. "Praise Jesus. You got FAT!!"

Example 2: On data transcription
"Shannon, you will hear in the tape cassette everything we talked about," said a colleague when I asked about an in-depth interview she had just recorded with a mother.
"Well, Fatimata, technically I won't hear it because I don't speak Temne (the language used in the interview)," I said.
"Yes, you'll hear it," she said.
...
"Just put on your magic headset," she said.
...confusion...
"Shannon," she said, now trying not to get annoyed. "Tell the UN to give you a magic headset. I see them on TV. The magic headset. People understand every language when they put on these headsets. Why wouldn't they tell you about it?!"
Thus ensued a conversation about the role of live, real-time translation.

Example 3: Girl talk
"Why do you have no children?" a village woman and mother of seven asked, through a translator.
"Because I'm waiting," I responded.
"For what?"
"For the right time," I said, wincing at how lame this sounded.
"What is the right time?" she asked.
"I guess it's when I have a bit of money saved for a baby, and a house that a baby could go in, and when I'm not traveling so much," I said.
...long pause...
"You will be very very old when you make babies," she said.

Example 4: Girl talk 2.0
"Where did you buy your hair?"
"I didn't buy it. It's from my head. See." (here we pulled it around to reveal no weave)
"Oh. So which toxic soda do you make as hair relaxant?"

A very good year

2010-05-17T12:36:00.007+03:00

Yikes! I fell off the grid for a few months.

Here's why:

1. I was finishing my thesis

2. I fell head-over-heels crazy for a guy

3. I was applying for jobs

4. I was moving in with head-over-heels dreamguy

5. I got a job with a UNICEF (an organization for which I have a head-over-heels affinity)

6. I barely paid attention to anything except gaga job and gaga dreamguy

7. UNICEF sent me to Sierra Leone for a month

8. I was torm about conducting research in exciting, incredible Sierra Leone versus lazing around with exciting, incredible dreamguy

9. Somewhere in the middle of numbers 1-8, I left Tanzania then went to Illinois, Austria, Macedonia and Switzerland. In Illinois, I played with Cade and danced with Josephine. In Austria, I dislocated my shoulder. In Macedonia, I chased my toddling friend Avery while she hid my makeup and undies. In Switzerland, I celebrated a baptism and saw Einstein's home.

10. I was preparing to officially graduate from Johns Hopkins University (which will happen next week)

But who cares about text! Bor-ing! Photos tell the story. Unfortunately, I have only photos from Sierra Leone right now. I hope they can suffice.

These are "snaps", as Sierra Leoneans say, from Kambia district in the northern border of Sierra Leone, near Guinea. UNICEF is working in Kambia, among other places, to address 3 illnesses that kill the most kids in Sierra Leone: malaria, diarrhea and pneumonia.

Here's a mom in a clinic with her daughter:

Little boys felt especially emboldened to walk up to me, say, "SNAP! SNAP ME" and then pose:

A baby wearing a healing amulet with a prayer written and folded within the amulet:

More boys:

and girls:

and Moms, who came to a clinic to learn about UNICEF and the Ministry's new program to supply free medical care to pregnant women, breastfeeding moms and children under 5. The nurse at the clinic kept saying, "Free! All Free" and the moms would say, "Free?" and the nurse would repeat, "Free! All free. As in, no money. No charges. FREE." And the question cycle would repeat with looks of incredulous excitement.

I hate not blogging. Not only because my friends and family don't know what I'm up to, but also because without blogging I have no record of the past months' adventures.

Thanks to those who kept encouraging me to write.

Shannon

two BIG moments, one little week

2010-02-05T02:14:00.003+02:00

I found out this week that I was accepted to a PhD program at the Johns Hopkins School of Public Health. How wildly exciting! How wonderful! How worthy many, many whiskeys!

You might think I was out celebrating. You would be wrong.

Instead, I'm sitting at this computer, typing out the final words of a thesis that is due... TOMORROW. Uggggghhhh. When did life become so crowded!?

If you know me, if you're reading this, if you care enough to be a part of my life ... thank you. Thanks for moaning with me, cheering for me and celebrating my successes- big and small. As two very dear friends like to say, "You make it in life when you have the fortune to stand on the shoulder of giants." You're one of my giants.

Shannon

bad day turned beautiful

2010-01-15T20:37:00.003+02:00

Today was Alfredo's funeral. I didn't attend. In some strange twist of fate, today was also my going-away party, hosted by colleagues from the Primary Health Care Institute in Tanzania.

I spent the better of today in the same state I've spent the better of most days since Alfredo died. I was angry. I wanted to throw things and - for better or worse - I was snapping at people. A bigger person than me could probably look deeper and find peace and not feel anger in their heart. I'm not there.

At 5 pm, I was midway through a proposal when I heard Kenny Loggins and Michael Jackson singing "We Are The World" in the courtyard outside my office. 'What on earth is going on out there?' I wondered, forgetting my scheduled going-away party.

At around 5:15 pm, the director of the institute walked into my office and said, "Shanni, it is not customary to be this late to your own party. Twendetu (Let's just go). TWENDE (Let's GO!)"

I walked through the courtyard to a hall of the institute. Inside, 20 colleagues had decorated the room with my favorite flowers, which they placed at a head table where I was to sit. They played my favorite Tanzanian music ("Twisty") and served my favorite beer ("Kili") and wine ("Hillekundu"). Midway through the dinner (again, my favorite, "Kuku na chips") the women gathered in a line, put me in a chair in the middle of the room, and starting singing while showering me with gifts including a basket, mini giraffe, CD, kanga and a beautiful wood carving.

The gifts from the staff were especially meaningful as members of the staff had remembered things I pointed out with admiration during the past couple of months. They remembered the intricate pattern of my favorite kanga (fabric) design and bought a deluxe version of it (triple wax, three yards). This thoughtfulness and attention to detail was beyond my imagination. I was touched, to say the least.

"Shanni," said one colleague while we danced across the floor to Twisty, "I think you love life. You love living... Karibu tena (Welcome again). Karibu sana (Heartfelt welcome). You're part of our family."

"I'm part of the family!" I exclaimed, with a touch of red wine running to my head. "Really!?! Do you think this means the family has adopted a little mzungu (white person)!"

This brought lots of laughs.

By 8 pm, I was smiling like I haven't smiled in awhile. The staff took turns telling funny stories to me, about me, for me.

In some strange way, I feel like Alfredo would have enjoyed knowing that this was how I ended my day thinking about him. He used to say the exact same thing - "You love life! You love living! You are part of the family! Karibu tena!"

It's true: I do love life. And I love living. I only wish it could last forever, for me and for everyone I love.

Shannon

Thank you for saying this

2010-01-12T11:01:00.002+02:00

I don't usually write about current events. But reading this quote today made me breathe a little deeper.

"When a girl becomes a mother before she becomes literate, when a woman gives birth alone and is left with a permanent disability, when a mother toils daily to feed her large family but cannot convince her husband to agree to contraception, these struggles represent suffering that can and should be avoided. They represent potential that goes unfulfilled. And they also represent an opportunity to extend critical help to women worldwide and the children who depend on them."

Well said. Thanks Secretary of State Clinton for emphasizing that human progress relies on improving women's health. Thanks for showing world leaders who belittle women that they can shove it.

A fact worth repeating from her speech to mark the 15th anniversary of the Cairo Conference:

- One woman dies every minute of every day in pregnancy or childbirth, and for every woman who dies, another 20 suffer from injury, infection, or disease every minute.

Cade of the Week- Cade and his Curious Friend

2010-01-11T17:07:00.003+02:00

One day, when Baby Cade is all grown up, he's going to hate that this adoring aunt posted a photo of him cuddling Curious George. But... til then, I can't help myself.

Here's the ever-curious Cade with his friend Curious George. George was a gift from me. He's my favorite in the stuffed animal kingdom.

Love you Cade!

Auntie Shannon

in memory of my friend Alfredo Obure

2009-12-31T19:21:00.007+02:00

Alfredo celebrating his PhD defense

Today I learned that my friend, Dr. Alfredo Obure, died. He was 33. He leaves behind his wife and two young children. Alfredo recently received his PhD. Alfredo was the first in his family (and his village) to earn a PhD. Here he is with his dissertation.

and with colleagues, moments after successfully defending his thesis:
and with his wife:

Alfredo and I visited a few rural schools together and, during the long car rides, we got to know one another. We called our friendship a tribute to qualitative research and anthropology. We both asked very blunt questions about one another's upbringings (his is rural Kenya, mine in suburban America). Here is Alfredo with a handwashing station at a rural school:

We also wrote news articles together, such as this one:

I can't find words to describe how sad it feels to know that Alfredo is gone. The world has lost someone who was a tireless advocate for the poor, someone who showed young boys and girls that education could catapult you to new horizons.

Alfredo, I'll miss our g-chats and e-mails. I'll miss your irreverant humor and gentle chides. Most of all, I will miss your giant smile and whole-hearted laugh.

Shannon

Christmas Cade

2009-12-28T12:14:00.000+02:00

Hi all!

I'm taking a break from blogging for a couple of weeks. Here is a pic of my favorite elf, Cade!

See you in a few weeks little man!

And, Dad, you look great!

Shannon

A room with a view

2009-12-17T17:01:00.002+02:00

I was in Morogoro the other day and woke up to this view:

My Tanzanian colleagues saw me taking pictures and started laughing.

"What?" I said.

"You are photographing a cloudy mountain."

pause

"Men, I am from Illinois. Illinois is flatter than a chapati. Hills and mountains are a big deal!"

Shannon

Hippos in Ruaha National Park

2009-12-15T18:38:00.003+02:00

Admittedly hippos are low on my list of animals. Maybe it's the stubby legs. The enormous belly. The fact that they swoosh their tails to spray their excrement while pooping. Oh- or get this- they're known for killing people and their own babies.

Anyway! Enough hating on hippos. On the bright side, Hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia is a really great word.

Here are some photos of Hippos in Ruaha (for those of you who lovingly mentioned that seeing my toes in the last post was a little less than thrilling)...

This is to give an idea of where our lunch stop was in relation to the water where the hippos were:

Those things that look like logs in the water are hippos! Sorry they look so tiny!

A pod. Male bulls can have up to, like, 30 ladies. This guy was not such a stud.

More photos from Ruaha to come. Elephants etc.

Shannon

Recently in Ruaha

2009-12-13T15:11:00.006+02:00

Almost every tourist who comes to Tanzania makes three stops: Serengeti Park, Mt. Kilimanjaro, Zanzibar. These are the "biggies," with scenes straight out of Hemingway novels and National Geographic magazines. They're also in more accessible parts of the country, the North and Coast.

To see where I live, in Southern Tanzania's highlands, tourists must spend a valuable day or two on the road. For that reason, they don't come. Foreigners in Iringa remain a novelty. Here's a typical view of the Southern Highlands:

Last week, I was reminded of this seclusion when I went on a safari in Ruaha National Park with my Japanese friend Shingo (who I have referred to as Neck as his name is Swahili for Neck). Shingo and I drove through the park for two days and saw just two other vehicles.

The safari was Shingo's idea and he prepared with panache. In honor of Japan, we molded rice balls and steamed okra for lunch. Here are the rice ball making supplies.

This a completed rice ball. You just put sushi paper on the bottom and - voila - tasty goodness.

We packed up the rice balls and other materials and drove into the park. This is where we stopped for lunch. It's on the banks of a river full of flubby, bubbling, belching hippos.

Another view from the lunch stop:

In order to get a good view, we popped open the roof of the truck and stood on our seats. Like this:

And then we realized how infintely more fun it was to sit on top of the truck, like this:

It was like a safari roller coaster! Here's a picture I took while sitting on the top of the truck (still nowhere near as tall as this giraffe): Later, the rain came. You can see the rain in left side of the photo below. Shingo was kinda bummed about the rain. To cheer him up - and in honor of America - I insisted that we start singing songs by his favorite performer, Madonna. So the rain poured down and Shingo and I stayed on top of the truck singing Karaoke versions of Rain, Ray of Light, Lucky Star and Jump.

It was Karaoke on safari! Midway through Lucky Star, Shingo pointed out that Karaoke is a Japanese tradition. In fact, the word Karaoke is Japanese for "singing without orchestra" or "empty bucket." Ah, how cultures can collide in the middle of rural Africa.

After the rain, we returned to a campsite and watched the moon rise. I had never seen a moonrise and it made my heart stop. In the middle of the night, an adult male elephant stopped by our banda while grazing. This too was a first-time experience. My heart stopped again and I'm pretty sure I peed in my pants. Nevertheless, it was incredible.

Here's a photo of me. The only one from the day. I'll try to get better about putting pics of myself on here, per some of your requests. :)

Shannon

Ismila Stone Age site

2009-11-29T11:16:00.003+02:00

Photos from a recent visit to Ismila, a Stone Age site and really cool canyon in Southwest Tanzania. I am too tired to write. Enjoy the photos.

Shannon

Things I am thankful for in Tanzania

2009-11-27T14:37:00.005+02:00

I like the way Tanzanian waiters and waitresses sit down to chat when they're taking my order.

I like the way people call me Shanni, from Ameriki, who does researchi.

I enjoy the melody of Swahili. I haven't enjoyed imitating the cadence of a language this much since I started speaking French.

I love how proud of Tanzania so many Tanzanians are. They have every reason in the world to be.

I love how I think that women are gossiping about something very very juicy, but then discover they are talking about avocado trees.

These are the things I am thankful for about Tanzania.

Happy Thanksgiving.

xo

Shannon

Iringa, Tanzania

2009-11-26T11:33:00.006+02:00

Last week, I climbed to the top of this rock with my new Japanese friend, Shingo (Swahili for "Neck").

Closer view of the rock (notice the guy standing on the rock, not Neck):

Neck is a cool guy. He's with JICA, the Japanese International Cooperative Agency, which can be most closely compared with America's Peace Corps. Basically, Neck gets paid the salary of a Japanese computeer engineer while he lives in Tanzania for two years, builds computer networks and trains health workers in Microsoft Office, Excel, Powerpoint etc.

The more I learn about Neck and JICA, the more I'm impressed. To compare, America sends a lot of low-paid Peace Corps kids to wander through poor parts of the world with a hazy understanding of their tasks. Japan, on the other hand, sends well-paid professionals with several years of experience to do highly-specialized, easily measurable tasks.

The more I meet Peace Corps volunteers, the more underwhelmed I am with their abilities and the program generally (Peace Corps types who end up at Hopkins are a wholly different breed. The ones I'm referring to are usually getting drunk and whining about how they have nothing to do).

Anyway, walking around town with Neck, who has been in Iringa one year, is like hanging out with a resident celebrity. Everybody knows and loves Neck. Women ask him to hold their babies. Kids wave to him and say "China! China!" Our colleagues gush about Neck's fluent Swahili, his patience when teaching computer skills, his ability to cook fish in new and fascinating ways. Neck has set the bar very high.

Here's Neck at the top of Gangilonga (the rock shown above). When we reached the top, Neck and I had a nice chat and drank some Konyagi, alcohol which comes in a plastic bag (sounds trashy, but you take what you can get).

And we took in the view of Iringa. Our office and my house are in this photo.

The next day, Sunday, Neck and I went to Ismila to see and touch materials used during the Stone Age. Photos to come later.

Missing everyone this Thanksgiving. Looking ahead, I am going to make every effort to avoid spending holidays in new, foreign lands without the comfort of old friends.

Shannon

Cade of the week- deluxe edition

2009-11-23T16:29:00.007+02:00

Caderoo, my remarkably adorable Godson turned the big O-N-E last week. To celebrate, I'm doing a special-edition Cade of the Week. Here is a collection of Cades from our day touring DC in September. I can't put them in the order I would like, but here's the story.

Cade started the day looking like a happy, drunken pilot:

He was ecstatic to be inside the National Air & Space Museum:

He took pretty much zero interest in the Lincoln Memorial, even when I explained the Emancipation Proclamation and the Illinois connection. (There were birds, trees and airplanes to look at overhead):

He looked downright distraught outside the IRS offices. Smart kid:

Near the vice president's house, Cade decided it was time to hit on the ladies:

We interrupted this flurry of flirtation to take a photo of Cade and the Capitol:

Cade's favorite spot on the bus was, of course, right in front. He held the bar with a death grip and, at one point, tried to press his itty bitty nose to the glass:

Before the day ended, we made sure we got a photo outside his favorite spot- the Air and Space Museum.

I hope we can do another adventure day sometime Baby Cade!

Happy Birthday!

Auntie Shannon

Camera

2009-11-20T08:12:00.002+02:00

My beloved camera is broken. Of course this had to happen while I was in Tanzania- arguably the most beautiful country in the world (right up there with Turkey and New Zealand).

But there's good news. Because God loves me, the only other expat in this community happens to be Chingo (a Japanese IT guy who loves to repair electronics). Chingo is with the Japanese Volunteer Corps. He's going to look at my Japanese camera and do his best.

The word Chingo means "neck" in Swahili. When Tanzanian women try to get Chingo's attention, they say his name and make the international symbol for choking. I find this extremely amusing.

Shannon

Recap the week

2009-11-17T10:05:00.005+02:00

I'm "stuck" in Dar es Salaam, Tanzania for an extra day en route to Iringa. I use quotes with stuck because - of all the places in the world to be stuck - this one's spectacular. (see above)

I have speedy internet, so let's re-cap the past week:

On Thursday I turned 28. What a great age! That evening, my boss and several new friends took me to an Italian restaurant in Nairobi where they serve homemade mozzarella, handmade pasta and raspberry cheesecake. As the guest of honor, I instituted a law wherein guests were not allowed to discuss public health (cholera, infant mortality, diarrhea, latrines etc.) more than 35 percent of the time. The law was broken, but we formulated a plan. Everyone at the table had to talk about things we would like to see happen in the coming year. It sounds silly, but if you put 10 people at a table from NGOs, government ministries and research institutions... and ask them to articulate personal goals, they'll drum up interesting plans. Suffice it to say I'll remember the chat at my 28th birthday for a long, long time.

Near the end of dinner, somebody told the waiters it was my birthday. The wait staff (and kitchen staff) brought out a sparkler-topped cake and sang the most vibrant version of Happy Birthday I've ever heard. It included harmony, percussion and Masaii grunts. I was torn between blowing out the sparkler and giving a standing ovation.

Friday, Cade turned 1. My only major regret of the past several (and upcoming) months is that I don’t get to hang out with him. I hear that Cade picked up his 5-pound cake (see below) and lobbed to the floor. Bravo little buddy! You rock!

Saturday, I relaxed with Adina. Adina is a Swiss friend I met at a campsite on my first day in Nairobi. We hit it off. Here's Adina:

When Adina vists in Kisumu, men make idiots of themselves trying to get our (really, her) attention. Adina and I decided to go to a grocery store Saturday morning. In the parking lot, we ran into one such man (who is also an acquaintance from Kisumu). He said he had extra tickets to a soccer game. Would we like to join? No, we said, we're not really soccer people and it's hot and we're in grocery shopping attire. Then he says, Its a World Cup qualifying match. Kenya versus Nigeria. And they're VIP seats and we can take a car. Are you sure?

When Kenya lost to Nigeria last Saturday, Adina and I were right there hurling insults at the ref, making cracks about Nigerian corruption and trying desperately to learn the rules of soccer and avoid using the bathroom (as it lacked a toilet, wiping supplies and water). The stadium was half-filled. The scoreboard and lights broken. The refreshment stand empty. When a Kenyan player was given a yellow-card, people began tossing bottles, shoes and other debris onto the field. At one point, a fan yelled, "I HATE YOU NIGERIA. GO BACK TO YOUR COUNTRY AND SEND YOUR STUPID SPAM." I only wish I brought my camera to the grocery store that morning.

Sunday, Adina and I met a couple of her colleagues for lunch in Karen. Karen is a very uppity neighborhood of Nairobi named for Karen Blixen (of Out of Africa fame). Blixen's farm used to cover what is today a suburb of the city. Adina's colleagues treated for lunch at Talisman, a restaurant run by expats who also import goods from the Middle East. The decor is part-Turkish kilim, part- African wildlife infused with a love of food and drinks and people. It's what this blog would be if it were a restaurant. I loved it. Here's Talisman:

Monday afternoon, following several flight delays, I flew to Tanzania. Unfortunately, my luggage did not make the journey. Under most circumstances, if I arrived in a country where I didn’t speak the language and had never visited before … I would be frustrated if I didn’t have my luggage. But due to a mixture of factors (1. I’m getting used to traveling 2. In the scope of life, lost luggage is really not worth anger and 3. Tanzanians are AWESOME), the luggage loss was a blessing!

When the luggage ladies, Priska and Carol, heard that this was my first day in Tanzania they decided to help me “overcome the luggage and sort out lady needs.” Priska left her post at the luggage desk, grabbed my hand, walked me past customs and taxi touts to the entryway of the airport. “First, you need to know the exchange rates Shanni,” she said. We learned the exchange rate at a currency counter, made some calculations, walked to the ATM and got some cash. Priska stood guard while I collected the cash. She talked about Tanzanian men and dating. We went to the cell phone service counter, “Shanni, you will be in a remote area in mountains. Zain is the service for you. It’s for the remote areas.” At the Zain phone counter, Priska kept talking about men while she installed my new SIM card, topped up my phone with points and then walked me to the cab stands. With the cabbies, Priska (who has the stature of an American 11-year-old) drove a hard bargain. From speaking with expats in Tanzania, I knew the cab rates a white person can expect to get from the airport to the city. When she started driving for an even lower rate, I said, “Priska, for real, I’m ok with the Mzungu rate.” It was a difference of $1.

My cab driver, Wallace, was equally awesome. He discussed the history of Dar, his favorite foods, origins of Swahili words and architecture. Wallace offered to take me to Subway (as in the American sandwich chain) on the way to my friend Pam’s house. “You will like it,” he said. “Americans know their sandwiches.”

“Wallace,” I said. “I am American.”

And then began the conversation on how much he loves Mr. Obama and how much I do not look American.

We drove along Dar’s picturesque Ocean Drive. Ocean Drive stretches along the coast and features the Presidential residence, palatial homes and- as luck would have it- my friend Pam’s modest-yet-beautiful apartment. Pam and I are friends from Johns Hopkins where she studied family health. Pam oriented me to the city, took me on a quick walk along the water and introduced me to a cliffside restaurant. I kept saying, “Pam. I am so lucky. What are the chances that you would be here? That this would be so beautiful? That we would get paid to do this?” She said, “I know. It’s crazy. I feel the same way.” Here's Pam at our seaside dinner date:

I was nervous about coming to Tanzania. And, thinking more broadly, about coming to Africa. A piece of me is constantly wondering if this will all end in disaster. But after weeks like this past one, another part of me knows… I’ll be just fine.

Xo

Shannon

to Tanzania

2009-11-16T09:35:00.002+02:00

En route to Tanzania today.

I'll be in Dar es Salaam for at least a night to visit a friend from Hopkins.

Then to Iringa for a couple of months (with questionable internet/blogging access!).

All are welcome to visit as I don't know a soul in Iringa, my Swahili is horrible and the region is supposed to be exceptionally beautiful.

Shannon

Lucky me

2009-11-11T21:35:00.003+02:00

A year ago, I was writing about how fortunate I felt to celebrate a birthday in Baltimore.

This year I'm in Nairobi, Kenya at a conference on water. There's a new slew of friends for another fun birthday.

Earlier this week my boss said: "Shannon, what if for your birthday we all go to this really great restaurant that's across from a game park? The food's good. It'll be fun."

Me (eyes very wide): "Game on! Yes! AWESOME!"

As a special birthday bonus, Kenya's newspaper "The Standard" published another op-ed today. This time, it's on latrine maintenance (no online link yet!).

I am among the luckiest soon-to-be 28 years olds in the world.

Shannon

For fun: some photos of Lake Vicky

Somebody had to say it.

2009-11-03T18:11:00.003+02:00

To those of you who know me, you know how overwhelming and wonderful it was to see this in Monday's paper.

Shannon

Lake Victoria

2009-10-30T22:19:00.007+02:00

I'm leaving Kisumu, Kenya indefinitely this Wednesday. I think the thing I'll miss most about Kisumu is Lake Victoria. Here are some photos that I hope convey even a little bit of this lake's magnificence.

It's been quite an experience, but the next chapter in life's adventure awaits.

Shannon

Looking up

2009-10-29T08:26:00.000+02:00

The sky is just a little more awesome over here.
This is near my home:

so is this:

this is on the road to Kisumu, from the Rift Valley (where the human species made its debut):

Kisumu from the sky

2009-10-26T17:44:00.000+02:00

I take little planes when to get from Nairobi to Kisumu. Above is the plane's propeller. I recommend a stiff drink to anyone tempted to take a plane like this over Africa. But that's just me.

Above and below, Kisumu Lakefront. Notice above, invasive hyacinth. Big problem.

My view just before descending into a torrential storm. Not that I read into the situation on a religious level, of course.

Ms. Lebo Geddy

2009-10-25T19:08:00.000+02:00

This was among the most beautiful weddings I have ever attended. Congratulations to both.

Thinking of you two while in Kisumu.

Love, love, love,

Shannon

The Colorful Continent

2009-10-24T13:18:00.001+03:00

Back in Africa where even a roadside stand explodes with color.

Shannon

Elephant Orphanage

2009-10-19T22:00:00.001+03:00

On second thought, forget a blogger pause, here are a few quick pics from a trip to an elephant orphanage.

Women I met at breakfast and convinced to go with me to the elephant orphanage:

Baby elephants:

They like to play in the mud:

Sometimes they get stuck because they're really small:

Blogger won't let me post more photos right now. But I adopted a rhino for Cade so photos of Maalim the puppy-sized rhino will come when I discover more time (or cultivate my insomnia). :)

xo

Shannon

break

2009-10-19T21:47:00.001+03:00

sorry everybody.

it has been an extremely busy few weeks and i haven't had time to blog.

doing well. back in kenya. swimming in data.

:)

shannon

Euro Cade to the Zoo!

2009-10-03T15:27:00.001+03:00

A new version of my nephew emerged this week on a visit to DC. He's called EuroCade. EuroCade wears lots of stripes (not necessarily matching) and Italian shoes (somehow match everything). If EuroCade could speak in more than monosyllables, I'm pretty sure he would sound Swedish.

EuroCade strolled around the National Zoo in Woodley Park, DC on Wednesday with me and Grandma. He LOVED it!

Here is EuroCade outside the Panda exhibit. This Panda kinda creeped him out, so he held onto me with a baby death grip.

Then we watched the real-life Pandas play with crates.

We strolled past the elephants, the donkeys and the food court and came to the gorillas. Here is Cade with his gram watching a female gorilla:

Post- gorillas, EuroCade remembered that he needed a nap and began to have a freakout. Unfortunately, this coincided with a photo-op of stripey Cade with Zebras. Alas, we'll save it for next time.

xo

Auntie Shannon

Seven days, three continents

2009-09-28T22:24:00.002+03:00

Been out for a week. A rundown:

Learned a friend died. Cried. Went to a rural school. Looked at the crumbling walls. Looked at brown drinking water. Felt completely spent. Excused self from interview. Hid in car. Almost vomited. Collected self. Went home. Thought had amoebas. Went to doctor. Got meds. Packed bags.

Bid Kisumu adieu. Flew in airplane. Found airplane engine reminiscent of lawnmower. Watched storm play with lawnmower-cum-airplane. Shook head. Laughed. Slept.

Arrived Nairobi. No electricity. No water. No Internet. No time like present to visit elephant orphanage.

Left Nairobi for Amsterdam. Slept 7 hours 55 minutes of 8 hour flight. Arrived Amsterdam. Brushed teeth. Drank tap water. Called Dutch friend Wouter. Ate breakfast with Wouter. Laughed and laughed. Talked about life.

Left Amsterdam for DC. Watched Marley and Me on airplane. Cried. Vowed to never again watch sad movie during daytime, on airplane. Flew over New York City. Took photos.

Arrived DC. Waited for Alex. Waited. Waited. Waited 2.5 hours. Considered killing Alex and throwing body into ravine. Decided to scream at Alex for 6 hour drive to North Carolina. Screamed. Slept. Awoke. Apologized. Accepted apology.

Arrived North Carolina. Drank wine. Slept. Woke. Ate biscuits. Walked on beach.

Attended wedding of Charlotte Lebo and Bryan Geddy. Spoke in wedding. Cried (5,000th time this week for those who are counting). Felt honored to have incredible friends. Danced to Tina Turner. Laughed with father of groom. Giggled with mother of bride. Slow danced with Alex. Asleep by 11.

Left North Carolina for DC. Arrived to Wedley Park, DC. Listening to Pocketknife and Cousin Cole. Smiling. Trying to wrap head around past 7 days. Constantly saddened, delighted, surprised by life.

Shannon

A Muddy Morning

2009-09-21T10:49:00.004+03:00

I arrived to a school the other day with mud dripping down my neck and splattered across my white shirt and black bag. A colleague looked at me, smiled and said, "Shannon. I do not want you to be concerned. However, you are full of mud. Also, your ears and face are turning pink. You need your lotion. And a bath."

Being that we were about 45 minutes from the nearest structure-resembling-a-shop and 1 hour from the nearest location-resembling-a-town, lotions and baths were out of the question.

I wasn't the only thing that was messy. Here was our car, which I have nicknamed Dalmatian:

Dalmatian and I both had black mud on our pale exteriors:This is the school we were visiting:
This is why we are visiting schools:
Notice anything interesting about the roster? Aside from the huge overall drop in attendance, the thing that most interests me is the change in the boy:girl ratio as students age.

Why are girls dropping out in such high numbers? Lots of reasons. Pregnancy, lack of family support, loss of parents, lack of money...

How can the government, NGOs and research organizations best work with schools to change this? This is what we're trying to learn. This is why I'm happy to show up to work caked in mud.

xo

Shannon

Cade of the Week

2009-09-18T21:25:00.003+03:00

Baby Cade, channeling baby chicks.
Cade is now walking. Whoa.

xo little chick!

Shannon

Happy Birthday Alex

2009-09-16T22:19:00.007+03:00

Happy 30th Alecky.

From Chicago and Jerusalem,
to New Braintree and DC,
from Turkey and Tel Aviv,
to Baltimore and Wadi Rum...
It has been quite an adventure. Where will end up next?

Seni seviyorum canim benim, cok,

Canin

Meeting Mama Sarah, grandma of Barack Obama

2009-09-14T21:06:00.009+03:00

Mama Sarah's front door:Yesterday I met Barack Obama's gram, Mama Sarah, at her home in Kogelo, Kenya. Kogelo is a tiny town about an hour outside Kisumu. It is the burial site of Obama's dad.

It is almost impossible to drive through Kogelo and not feel hairs rise on the back of your neck. The village is nearly identical to other poor, rural, Kenyan villages- dirt roads, cattle herders waving long sticks, children carrying buckets on their heads. To think that in two generations, a family can move from Kogelo to Chicago is astounding. To think that, more specifically, the move started in a mud hut on an unmarked road and ended in a white house at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue is beyond comprehension.

The trip made me see my work in Kenya's schools and rural communities with new eyes. The students I interview and talk with - the ones with no latrines, no electricity, no running water, no money for books or shoes or uniforms or food - these kids could grow into a person that brings hope to the world.

Before anyone comments on my photos or this post, I want to say this: I hesitated about posting photos or describing this experience. For me, meeting Mama Sarah marked an experience of a lifetime; it is something I will cherish and, one day, tell my children's children. Sadly, to someone else, this marked an opportunity to write an offensive comment on my facebook page. I acknowledge that people do not agree with or respect Obama. I do not respect when individuals who call themselves my friend use my experiences to engage in bashing, from either side of the aisle. Belittling another person's enthusiasm - in this case, my enthusiasm- is in poor form and quite frankly, it was insulting. To the individual who did this- and who never before felt compelled to comment on my blog or my facebook page- I politely request that you refrain from comment.

Photos from Sunday, September 13, 2009 when I met Obama's gram and visited his father's grave...

The drive to Kogelo, nearing the village:

Arrival to Mama Sarah's house, she greets guests under this tree:

Close-up of the chairs:We were the only guests present during the visit. Sometimes there are many busses of tourists. Sunday was a slow day. We were 6 visitors from Illinois and 1 from Boston. Oh, and two turkeys who scared me to death because they were huge:

As you sit in the chairs and look to your right you see this:
As you look to your left, you see Obama's father's grave:
Directly in front of you is Mama Sarah. She spoke of her son, Barack Obama Sr. and her amazement and pride for the accomplishments of her grandson. Mama Sarah does not speak English although she understands quite a bit. She speak Dholuo, the language of the region, and her daughter (Barack's aunt) translates. My friend Bethany greeted Mama Sarah in Dholuo and Mama Sarah nearly toppled over giggling:

Mama Sarah invited me to sit next to her for a picture. I asked her how she reacted on the night that Barack gave his speech in Grant Park. She said she was so excited that she ran up and down the path to her house cheering and smiling. "She ran," her daughter said. "Even with the cane." Mama Sarah said she didn't cry that night, "I'm a Luo. Luo women don't cry when we're happy."

I smiled like this for the rest of the day. Here I am with Adam Jadhav, an old friend who stopped in Kenya to visit while en route to India. Adam and I have a growing collection of photos of us posed like this in far-flung locations:
And here's me still beaming with Amy (left) and Bethany (right) on the path from Mama Sarah's house. Amy is an epidemiologist with UIC; she is also my unofficial life coach. Bethany is my rockin colleague from Emory; she's also a confidant and close friend.As you leave Mama Sarah's to go back to the main road, you drive past the Senator Obama Secondary School. They're thinking of renaming it, but it involves quite a bit of paperwork I was told: Once you hit the main road back to Kisumu, the reality of life in Kenya hits you quickly. Here is a man that was wandering down the street:
And the ubiquitous coffin vendor:
Finally, this is the train that runs along the highway just a few minutes from my home in Kisumu:
I feel very fortunate to be precisely where I am today.

xo

Shannon

An antidote to public health

2009-09-07T16:44:00.008+03:00

Some days public health facts piss me off. I'm typing a paper that starts with Every 15 seconds a child dies from a water-related disease. That's 20 jumbo jets of children dying every day, or more than 2 million child deaths a year.

I have a headache from grinding my teeth. My cuticles are bleeding.

To get my mind off dead and dying children, I walked around the neighborhood. Then I came home and started looking through photos from last weekend when Bethany (roommate) and Adina (Swiss friend) and I went to a rural village with 10 Kenyan friends to paint chalkboards in a pre-school.

I'll let the pictures tell the story.

Drive to the village with Adina.
Adina and I making faces:
The newly-built school where we painted chalkboards:The old school: Interior of the old school: Chalkboard in the old school:Interior of the new school:Painting a chalkboard:Looked to my right and noticed some onlookers:Curious onlookers as seen from outside:Me and curious onlooker who taught me Luo words for snake and corn and school:Adina painting a mural inside the school:Painting a mural outside the school:
Friends:Interior of a nearby school (Frank Lloyd Wright inspired windows!):The finished product:
Makes the statistics of public health seem somehow more manageable.

Shannon

a pen friend from the '90s...

2009-09-06T16:27:00.006+03:00

Friday night, thanks to facebook, I got a message from my old friend from Southern England Russ.

Russ is on the left. Our German friend Mario is on the right. That's a photo from 1995, when Russ and I met in the Black Forest of southern Germany. On that trip, Russ and Mario introduced me to cigarettes (awful), beer (thankfully, a step up from cigarettes) and Brit Pop (I can't imagine life without it).

The summer involved no romance. I was a newly-minted teen, petrified of boys. Russ and Mario showed more feelings for Coolio than they did for girls. We became pen pals though and sent one another letters with mixed tapes. My letters to Russ grew progressively more adoring ("Russ, I think you have a really cool accent. You are really cool and funny."). Russ' letters to me grew progressively more aloof ("Shannon, you have great music taste. Enjoy the enclosed mixed tape."). An omen? Yes. Meeting Russ marked the beginning of a lifelong penchant for men with accents.*

Imagine now, 15 years later, catching up with an old crush.

It lasted about an hour and went like this:

me: So tell me the story of your life. Or maybe just the last 15 years.
R: Hmmm. Well, I just got back from paddling.
me: Paddling?
R: Yes. It was great but the water here is rubbish.
me: Ohhhh, like kayaking! In England? You can kayak in England?
(here we launched into a chat on kayaking, surfing, San Diego, southern California, a bunch of places in Southern England, retirees and British surfer-chic)

me: So back to the last 15 years, how has it been?!
R: Oh! For my 30th birthday party, I had a fancy dress theme ... "dead musicians." I assigned everyone a celebrity.
me: Awesome! Who were you?
R: Shannon Hoon!
me: SHUT UP!
(this began a conversation on Blind Melon, mixed tapes, MP3s and the concurrent demise of mixed tapes, Ash and the Smashing Pumpkins. We concluded that best feeling in the world - particularly to a 14-year-old - is to receive a mixed tape with letter from the other side of the world.)

Russ called me a "fecker" for stealing his favorite tee-shirt in 1995 and a "nutter" for making fun of Gavin Rossdale and Bush. I mentioned that I completely |explicit word deleted| hated him for seeing Radiohead and Neil Young perform recently. I may have also injected the words shithoused and asswipe (beautiful American contributions to the lexicon of English slurs) into the conversation.

Russ has every letter I sent him from '94 to '97. Sadly, I don't have even one from him.

How have Russ' last 15 years been? I have no idea. My last 15 years? Who cares. How did it feel to catch up with someone from so long ago? Positively wonderful.

Shannon

*Alex, honey, you are the next chapter in that book, obvi.

Laughing Away in Kakamega

2009-09-03T14:20:00.006+03:00

We went hiking and camping in Kakamega National Park last weekend. Kakamega is the last bit of rainforest left in Kenya. It's well known for lush vegetation, several breeds of monkeys and some of the world's largest snakes.

I used to associate Kakamega with one of public health's great, albeit flawed, community-based health interventions. You can read about that intervention here. It's a story about hope, derailed.

Thankfully, Kakamega has now taken on a new meaning. That Saturday night, sitting around a fire with Nat, Darryn, Cat, James and Bethany was pure fun. Between Bethany's storytelling, James' wit and Darryn's scotch ... I bellylaughed for about 15 hours and slept for maybe 3. I forgot how much I love laughing. Hopkins kinda beat it out of me.

This is Udo's, the campground where we stayed. That little hut is where we slept:

We cooked in another hut. Darryn and Nat did the grilling. Bethany, James and I took care of the drinking.
Then we went for a sunrise hike in the rainforest. Normally I hate sunrise events, but this one was fun as I had stayed awake laughing all night:

We were all pretty dead when we reached the high point to watch the sun burn the clouds off the rainforest canopy (left to right, Cat, Darryn, Patrick our guide, Bethany, James):

The view:
Life is sweet.

xo

Shannon

Boda Boda photo photo

2009-09-01T18:06:00.003+03:00

Bethany and I decided to make a quick run to our grocery store, Nakumatt. We took boda bodas.

Self portrait with boda:
Boda from behind:
Nakumatt Nyanza, the superstore that puts others to shame:

Jogging with Bethany of Boston and Kurt of Chicago

2009-08-29T09:04:00.006+03:00

I live with a lifelong athlete named Bethany. Bethany's from Boston. Bethany is one of those tiny, superfit, soccer types. She runs every day down the dusty roads of Kisumu with Kurt. Kurt's from Chicago. Bethany and Kurt are preparing for a half marathon.

I'm not preparing for a half marathon. Marathons, half-marathons, pseudo-marathons... are dumb. The Greek guy who ran the Battle of Marathon died. Hint taken. But in the name of anthropology I decided to join in a few runs. Bethany and Kurt know I'm not in it for the love of the run, so they encourage me with lines like, "Come on Champ! You can do it! Go get 'em Tiger"

Kurt sometimes looks over his shoulder and says,"You're doing great! Really, you're doing great!"

When people repeat things, you know they're lying.

Sometimes, mid-run, I try to extract myself from the situation and imagine how we look to our Kenyan neighbors. Bethany, Kurt and I are three mizungus jogging over open sewage, between boda bodas and piki pikis and past grazing cattle. We're a comedy in slow motion. As if to underscore the point, several small children decided to join our run last week. When they imitated us - hands cupped in puppy paws, hunched posture, slow pace- it made me realize that running slowly "for fun" is a distinctly Western invention. Kenyans run because they're going somewhere. And they don't get winded. In the Kisumu half marathon, several of the fastest runners don't wear shoes.

Into this society comes me, a chubby midwesterner who has never run on anything but an elliptical in her parent's basement...

Goodnight,

Shannon

Cade of the Week

2009-08-26T17:52:00.002+03:00

Playing with butterflies can be so tiring...

Love you little buddy!

Auntie Shannon

Kids in Kisumu

2009-08-25T19:26:00.003+03:00

No secret here: I am totally enamored of kids, particularly when they're entertaining themselves or trying to attract attention. Kids in Kenya and Madagascar are equally enamored of me, sorta.

When Robert and I walk around a rural village or city slum we usually have a small parade of little people leading the way. In Kenya, this small parade is often singing a song about white people and poop- no joke, I have it on video and I'll post it here as soon as I can figure out how.

Kids are also pretty adamant about getting photographed. If you're trying to take a picture of, say, an unsecured water source you sometimes have to wait until a cluster of little people have moved aside and stopped waving.

It all makes perfect sense. Imagine you're a kid in Kenya and one day two tall, sunburned, sweaty white people arrive and they have a bizarre interest in your latrines and sewage and fields for open defecation...it's funny!

Here are some kids we ran into recently.

This is a sassy client at a water tap:
and a little kid on a big bike. He's trying to fit under the metal bar on men's bikes:
little kid fell off the bike near the puddle, but hopped back on:
this little guy made his own train and was saying, "choooo-choooo":

Those are just a couple of Kenya's adorable kids.

xo

Shannon

Walking around town is what I do

2009-08-22T12:38:00.004+03:00

I need to explain what I'm doing here in Kisumu. I keep shirking the question because it's complicated and deserves careful writing. And let's face it, it's fun writing silly things and posting pictures. The short explanation is ... I conduct water and sanitation research. I talk to people or write up interview guides for colleagues to talk to people and - one way or another - we learn how community members' lives are affected by water (or a shortage thereof). I also do a lot of writing to inform partners and, with a little luck, to inform future research or programs.

I love my job. I walk around, watch how people interact with water and write about it. I pry into their lives. Look at their latrines, observe handwashing habits, scope out water sources. It's like I'm still a reporter. But in Kenya. And with a very focused beat: water and hygiene. I have trouble describing how happy I am doing this.

Here are a couple of photos from a recent walk through Obunga, a slum in Kisumu. This is a latrine/washroom combo:

This is a protected water source:

This is a "moneymaker" pump:

These are moneymaker pump clients:

That is the quicket glimpse I can offer into my work. :) I'll try to be better about describing my work and my employer- Emory University's Center for Global Safe Water. It's important stuff!

But for now I'm off to Kakamega Rainforest to play with monkeys.

Happy Saturday!

Shannon

The love of one's parents

2009-08-20T12:56:00.002+03:00

The other day, I caught a ride with a boda boda. A boda boda is a bike with a cushy seat on back. The driver peddles, the passenger sits above the back tire (btw- a piki piki is a motorcycle, and a tuk tuk is a three-wheeled vehicle that is a little smaller than a golf cart).

Anyway, I usually end up chatting with boda boda drivers as they peddle. We talk about babies, AIDS, streetkids, lions, sunny weather, surly piki piki drivers, road injuries, wheels, vegetables, marriage, why I don't have a baby ... you get the picture. As much as I like to talk, they like to talk. It's wonderful.

So the other day, I hop on the back of a boda boda (I realize this may be hard to picture, so I'll look for a photo). And I get settled into my seat when the boda boda driver starts to peddle and says, "You know, I was thinking..." and here he paused.

"Yes, what were you thinking?" I asked. Keep in mind that me and this guy met 30 seconds ago and he's talking to me over his shoulder.

"I was thinking about parents."

"Cool. What were you thinking about parents?"

"I was thinking about you mizungu and how you are over here in Africa and then I was thinking about how you don't have your parents and how your parents don't have you." (Mizungu means white person)

"..."

"Because your parents are someplace," and here the road got bumpy and a little noisy so he had to kind of shout back toward me, "YOU HAVE PARENTS, YES? And the love of the parents IS THE MOST IMPORTANT LOVE OF ALL. YES?"

At this point, I'm speechless (this happens once every 11 years). Where is this coming from? Who is this guy? I keep listening.

"...and there's God. God's love, it's of course important. But God speaks to us through our parents. So really it's all about the parents. This is what I was thinking. What were you thinking?"

"Well. Umm. I was thinking about how I forgot to put on sunscreen. But now I'm thinking about my parents. And I'm thinking you're right," I said. "I'm thinking I should call my parents and say I love them."

And then he dropped me off. And later in the day, I took the hint and called my mom. And I asked her if she was pissed or thought I was selfish for not living in Illinois and instead living as a mizungu in Kenya. And she said no. And I made her confirm that she's cool with my life choices. And she confirmed. And then I told her I think she and dad are pretty incredible... in not exactly those words because while I can type it to the world I somehow have difficulty saying it to them. And she told me the line kept cutting and she couldn't hear what I said. And instead of screaming my love for them, I said, "Ok, well doesn't matter Ma, the phone line sucks and I'm tired. Gotta Go! Bye!"

But I do think they're incredible and I love them. And I think it's funny that it's take a boda boda driver in Kisumu to get me to say it.

Shannon

A great day

2009-08-15T17:14:00.004+03:00

Some days feel wonderful for no particular reason. Last Saturday was such a day.

My new friends Nat (an Australian psychologist) and Darryn (a South African vet) invited me to go scarf shopping with them in a village outside Kisumu. Many of you - ehem, Sarah - know that I am an unrepentant scarf slut. The chance to buy a scarf and take a minitrip with new people is my perfect day.

Nat and Darryn drove me and another new friend, James, to a town called Bondo to visit Mama Wendy, the grand dame of scarves and tapestries in the region. Here is Mama Wendy:

Nat and Darryn bought a rug. I bought the purple scarf in photo above. I also offered valuable insights into which rug Nat and Darryn should buy. They didn't choose the rug Darryn is holding in this picture:

While Nat and Darryn shopped, I learned valuable inter-personal skills from this little guy, Mama Wendy's grandson:

I learned how to make fish faces and how to wrap a chair in grandma's fabrics. Little guy and I also compared nail polish. His was blue, mine was clear. Clearly, he was cooler.

Little guy desperately wanted to get James' attention. James is a Brit building a school in rural Kenya. James doesn't like children, but after a few minutes of charaded pleading he gave in and made bubble noises with his mouth. Little guy and I were equally delighted.

Later, Nat, Darryn, James and I went out for lunch. There was an interesting car ride between Mama Wendy's and lunch. I'll blog on that later. Here is our lunch stop, the Lakeview Hotel. There is no lake. It's not a hotel. Here are Darryn and Nat (awww):

Here I'm washing my hands and holding my scarf. Yay for public health! Yay for scarves!

Lunch consisted of dried, salted fish and ugali, a cornmeal blob that is somewhere between mashed potatoes and play dough.
We drove back to Nat and Darryn's. Drank a few too many beers and watched a sunset from their balcony:
Then we went to a pub in town. Met up with about 10 more friends, drank a few more Tuskers and watched the New Zealand/South Africa rugby match. I cheered for New Zealand, because ... um... I've been there once. And the Kiwis did a really cool performance at the beginning of the match.
A wonderful day. Thanks to Nat and Darryn!

Shannon

Woke up this morning

2009-08-12T22:20:00.002+03:00

Here's my bed. I was happily sleeping this morning. I thought I was alone.

Then I looked over at the curtain. Look closely at the curtain.

Notice anything?
Let's zoom in. Now notice anything?
He and his 20 buddies are my permanent roommates. Thankfully, they eat mosquitoes so it's cool.

xo

Shannon

hot kicks!

2009-08-09T13:09:00.001+03:00

Guess what these are made of.

Seriously, I'm not going to tell you until I get at least a few good guesses.

xo!

Shannon

Dar es Salaam

2009-08-05T23:48:00.002+03:00

Recently flew over Dar es Salaam, Tanzania and was totally floored by how beautiful it looks - minus the brown water that shoots into the ocean.

I squinted to see if I could see my friends Ashley and Peter. No luck.

I'm headed to Dar in the Fall. So maybe a few close-up pictures will follow.

My friend Bethany and I watched "Beyond Borders" tonight. It's about "humanitarian workers." Bethany and I finished the movie, looked at one another and said, "Any truth in that? Like maybe a kernal truth?"

No.

Shannon

Cade of the Week

2009-08-04T22:35:00.005+03:00

Cade and his cousin, the Crosstown Classic begins.

Of note: the Sox fan looks alert and happy. He has said goodbye to that wimpy binkie. He means business.

The Cubs fan looks dazed, maybe even a little concerned. He's sucking his binkie with an expression that says, "Why oh why am I such a yuppie?"

They're both adorable.

xo

Auntie Shannon

A room with a view

2009-08-02T16:45:00.004+03:00

Views from a hotel where we recently spent a weekend. I will let the pictures do the talking.

The hut in this picture was my room:

xo

Shannon

Malaria and Me

2009-08-01T00:23:00.001+03:00

Anyone who has spoken with me for more than 3 minutes about my career - and its accompanying occupational hazards - knows that I am afraid of malaria.

Classmates make fun of me. Colleagues find me paranoid. I find that writhing in pain, vomiting and drifting in and out of consciousness for 14 days would be un-enjoyable and un-Shannon-like. So I will continue to lather on deet, pop overpriced meds and sleep under my stuffy bed net.

Today, I read this story in the Washington Post and felt pangs of public health euphoria:

"In a daring experiment in Europe, scientists used mosquitoes as flying needles to deliver a "vaccine" of live malaria parasites through their bites. The results were astounding: Everyone in the vaccine group acquired immunity to malaria; everyone in a non-vaccinated comparison group did not, and developed malaria when exposed to the parasites later.

The study was only a small proof-of-principle test, and its approach is not practical on a large scale. However, it shows that scientists may finally be on the right track to developing an effective vaccine against one of mankind's top killers. A vaccine that uses modified live parasites just entered human testing."

When I read the above paragraphs to a Kenyan colleague, who happens to be a former CDC employee, he laughed a deep belly laugh and said, "Wait! Hang on a minute. How did the Europeans find volunteers to get malaria?!?!!"

Good point.

Shannon

Only in Kenya

2009-07-29T10:32:00.003+03:00

Click here to watch and listen to the most catchy- though not necessarily accurate - song about Kenya. I have been singing it for weeks.

xo

Shannon

little shocks in casual conversation

2009-07-27T16:39:00.003+03:00

As a journalist, I always enjoyed when sources told me stories that sprang from left field. Bored politicos and quirky PR people are great at this.

You'll be mid-conversation talking about, say, article 24.a.ii of some transportation bill and they'll stop mid-sentence and say, "You know, Shannon, I like your name. Nice Irish name. My daughter's name is Shannon. She's a teenager. Two things about her. Number one, she's pregnant. Number two, she has two boyfriends. Now, you tell me: How the hell does she have two boyfriends?"

That was an actual conversation.

The trick is to seem unfazed despite the desire to say, "I"M SORRY. ARE WE IN A CONFESSION BOX HERE because, last I checked, I WAS INTERVIEWING YOU?!?"

The Kenyan version of injecting surprise into a conversation is a little different. The other day, I was waiting for a car with a colleague. We were getting ready to visit rural villages. Standing on a dirt road outside the office, he looked at me and suddenly grimaced.

"What's wrong?" I asked. "Are you okay?"

Him: "Yeah, I'm fine."

Me: "Really? Fine?"

Him: "Well. I feel a little off. I'm thinking I have typhoid."

Me: "..." (internally, "TYPHOID. HOLY SHIT. Typhoid Mary. Typhoid vaccines. How did he get typhoid?)

Him: "I'm pretty sure it's not malaria. But it could be that. I really don't know. But I'll persevere."

Me: "..." (and how the hell do you treat a person with typhoid? how do I have an MPH and not know any of this? What if he passes out? How exactly is typhoid spread? What is typhoid's incubation period?)

Him: "Why do you look concerned? You're looking at me like a mom. I've had typhoid before, I'm fine."

Me: (how the hell did he survive typhoid before??!?!) "Typhoid sounds serious. Tell me immediately if you start to feel woozy. Tell me right now if you want to take a sick day."

Him: "I'm fine but thanks Mom."

Me: "I am choosing to take that as a compliment."

He was fine. A week has passed. He's fine.

Me... I'm still in shock.

Shannon

Wild Life part 2

2009-07-26T22:18:00.005+03:00

Clearly, none of you appreciated the earlier pictures of flora and fauna in Lake Nakuru National Park. I'll be sure to tell the antelope and geese that they didn't garner a single comment.

Let's try this again.

Here is the hottest toosh in the animal kingdom. Notice the highlights and lowlights in that tail:

Baby toosh is brownish:
Here is my friend and colleague Bethany with a double banana. They're illegal in the US for dumb reasons:
A giraffe. Maybe the coolest animal, after the elephant. Of note: my friend's friend here in Kisumu is an animal anesthesiologist. When giraffe's are coming out of surgery it's dangerous as they often snap their necks. Yikes!

Bethany, me, Robert. Big giraffe fans. I think I look like a pre-teen in this photo. Sorry about the tagline Butts and Us. We have lots of animal butt pictures from this trip.

Rhino family with baby. Rhinos tend to graze, or "browse," in the same area throughout their lives. This makes it easy for poachers to kill them. -Brought to you by Debbie Downer.
Rhino surrounded by the animals that trampled the lioness in a story from a few weeks ago. Rhinos are herbivores- no enemies in this bunch.

Animals have the right of way:

When I was a YOUNG warthooog!
Shannon

Cade of the Week

2009-07-24T17:30:00.003+03:00

Skyping Cade. Cade entered the world of technology today and skyped Kenya from Chicago. Way to go Cade!

The experience was a little confusing:

Cade tried to remedy his confusion by eating the keyboard. Here, he's diving for the space bar:

Then he decided to show off his sitting abilities. But the temptation to eat the keyboard was too much, so he dove toward computer again.

En route to the keyboard, he got sleepy, stuck his butt in the air and passed out.

Happy Friday everyone! Great chatting with you today, TechnoCade!

xo

Shannon

Wildlife

2009-07-23T17:40:00.002+03:00

They travel in groups. All the bachelors in group 1. Lots of ladies with one stud in group 2. Kinda boring compared to other animals in the park, but:

Something with sword-like horns:

Birds at sunrise:
Birds again:
Rhino family. Baby gets kicked out when s/he turns 8:
I have more photos. For another time.

Happy almost Friday. This weekend we may go to Kakamega and play with monkeys.

:)

Shannon

Cade of the Week

2009-07-19T00:34:00.002+03:00

Cade at work. This is a Cade photo-op from March.

All jokes about Cade's proud papa resembling Devo are unnecessary; I have made them.

To Jeff (Cade's dad): I know you don't read this blog, but I think you're an awesome dad and Cade's a lucky little dude to have found you and Colleen.

Today I learned that I passed my comprehensive exams at Hopkins. In other words: I will graduate. THANK GOD.

xo,

Shannon

Work

2009-07-17T19:35:00.004+03:00

Get a close look. Get real close. Press your face to the computer screen. Imagine that all of those million maggots are squiggling around each other. The make a squirming noise that you can hear from 5-ft. away.

They're squiggling around each other in this latrine. The only latrine for shared by several hundred children.
Before seeing the latrine, I asked the head teacher what he meant when he said, "Children are afraid to use the latrine."

"You will see soon," he said. "Soon, you'll understand."

Now, I do.

Shannon

Photo from Madagascar

2009-07-14T12:24:00.003+03:00

I never got a chance to post these photos from Antananarivo, Madagascar. It's the view from my hotel room, at sunset.

It didn't know it was so beautiful either. Up close it's a different story, but I won't dwell on that.

xo,

Shannon

Cade of the Week

2009-07-11T18:05:00.004+03:00

Cade's belly jiggles when he giggles. Cade and me just before I came here ...

A very bad day for a certain lioness

2009-07-08T21:24:00.002+03:00

For the past few days, I have debated about posting this story. I'm concerned that it may throw my parents (and maybe Alex) into cardiac arrest. But a former professor, Walt Harrington, recommended I put it up. As for my parents, he said, "they've had several years to get over the shock" of having me as a child.

So here it is.

-----

"Today was a very bad day for a certain lioness at the Lake Nakuru National Park in Kenya. It started before sunrise. She was minding her own business, roaming around the plains when she realized she was outside the boundaries of the protected national park. And not only was she outside the protected area, she was also in a village full of waking villagers and – it gets worse – she was being chased by two “eager” male lions.

The fact that two lions and one lioness were wandering around their village made this a very very bad morning for the villagers, who are mostly park rangers and their relatives. One man in particular was in for a bad surprise. As he left his dung hut en route to the outhouse, he noticed that the local baboons were screeching and howling more than usual. “What could their problem be?” he thought as he sat down to “take a long call” (a Kenyan phrase for taking a dump). Then he heard the roar. His “long call” lasted much longer than most. He stayed in the toilet- in safety- until after sunrise.

The fact that two lions, one lioness and a lot of frightened villagers were meandering around the “safe zone” of Lake Nakuru National Park made this is very very very bad morning for a certain overly-eager American tourist, who we will call Shannon. Shannon arrived at the park with friends to watch the sunrise. As the truck of tourists (including Shannon) pulled up to the park’s entrance, Shannon’s boss went inside a brick building to pay admission. Shannon bolted from the truck, ran up to a supposedly electrical fence and began taking pictures of the sun rising over the hills. She took this picture.

(Insert sunrise photo here)

Here’s the supposedly electrical fence:

(Insert fence photo here)

“This is beautiful,” Shannon said, reminiscing about the last time she had been on a safari in Kenya. Shannon was totally lost in the moment when she saw something yellowish in the grass, less than 60 yards to her left.

By now, Shannon’s friend Robert was in earshot.

“Robert,” Shannon said, bewildered. “That’s a lion.”

“No it’s not,” he replied with the authority that springs from spending a day – in this case, the prior day – in the park without Shannon. “That’s a baboon.”

The lion jogged closer.

“Robert, that’s a lion,” she said, noticing that the fence did not have that buzzing noise that electrical fences have.

Then the lion started to grunt, a deep powerful grunt that should only be heard in National Geographic movies. Suddenly the car seemed unbelievably far away. The lion, actually lioness, seemed very close. She continued trotting toward Robert and Shannon. “OH MY GOD,” Shannon whispered. “IT’S ON THIS SIDE OF THE FENCE.”

***

They say in books that humans react with fight or flight. I always thought I would be one to fight. I also always thought that when the moment came, I would be facing someone or something that was somehow beneath me on the food chain.

In this case, I ran. I ran into the car so fast that I banged the left and right sides of my head. While running toward the car, I said, “THAT IS A FUCKING LION. GET IN THE FUCKING CAR. GET IN THE CAR.”

Robert ran in. By now the Kenyan driver, who was having a cigarette near the admission counter saw what was happening. He ran toward the car and said, “Get in the car. Get in the car. This is not safe.”

Was the last sentence really necessary?

The lioness coming toward us was being followed by a jeep. She was in some type of peripheral fencing that had been erected between the village and the game reserve. This peripheral fence had a 5-foot high non-electrical, metal fence. It resembled chicken-wire.

As the jeep drove behind the lioness, she was being pinned into a corner of the chicken-wire fence and the non-electrified 6-ft. fence bordering the game reserve. She had a choice. She could hop over one side of the fence and continue toward us. Or she could jump another side of a fence and return to the park. She jumped into the park.

Good choice for us. Bad choice for her.

On the other side of the fence were more than 50 water buffalo. Water buffalo look like the dumbest, most aesthetically-unfortunate animals on the Savanna. They have permanently out-of-style hairdos to top boxy, cow-like physiques. They’re often seen licking snot from their noses. Their appearance belies their ability. This morning when a lioness entered their territory, they sent an unheard signal to as many as 100 water buffalo in earshot and together roughly 150 water buffalo began to gore and trample the lioness. They pushed her down. Dug their curling horns into her. Kicked her with their hooves. They had no intention of eating her (they’re vegetarians). But they wanted to make a point. “You and your lion buddies think you own the world. We think otherwise.” Her lion buddies – the ones who were so intent on wooing her earlier that morning – were nowhere to be seen.

The park rangers watched in saddened dismay. There are very few lions in reserves nowadays. To lose a lioness is a tragedy.

The tourists watched in shocked disbelief. In a span of about ten seconds, they had expelled a lifetime of adrenaline.

“Oh my Gawd,” Robert said, watching the herd (about 200 yards away) kick up dust and throw the lioness's body through the air. Robert was now back out of the car, near the good-for-nothing fence. “It’s the circle of life.”

I wizened up. I was not going to stand near fences any longer. I was going to stand near him:

(Insert photo of ranger with gun)

This ranger told me the story of the morning. The man. The toilet. The baboons. The two lions. The one lioness. The fact that his gun was loaded and the more important fact that he knew how to shoot it.

“The buffalo will kill her,” he said, shaking his head and lamenting the point. “We will send a car to try to get the buffalo to stop trampling her.”

“Does this happen often?” I asked. “Do lions routinely break into your village?”

“This has never happened - not once in the history of the park,” he said.

“And when did the park open?” I asked, expected him to say, “2008.”

“1968,” he said.

“…”

“Nothing like this ever since 1968,” he repeated, slowly, watching the buffalo pummel the lioness.

I stepped back and looked at him incredulously. Then I exploded.

“ARE YOU TELLING MY THAT YOU HAVE NEVER – NOT EVEN ONCE – HAD LIONS IN YOUR VILLAGE? THAT YOU HAVE NEVER HAD LIONS OUTSIDE THE FENCE? AND ON THE ONE MORNING WHEN I ARRIVE IN KENYA AND I STEP OUT OF THAT TRUCK FOR 25 SECONDS THAT THIS IS THE FIRST TIME A LIONESS IS ON THIS SIDE OF THAT FENCE?”

“Yes,” he said, laughing. “That’s it. Jambo.”

I shook my head, smiled and fell into a shocked daze.

Moments passed in silence.

Then, suddenly, to the surprise of everyone (water buffalo, villagers, rangers and tourists), the lioness stood up, bared her teeth, growled and ran away.

Jambo, or “welcome,” from Kenya,

Shannon

Поздравляю вас!

2009-07-01T20:29:00.003+03:00

Many of my (daring, quick-witted, clever) friends are sticking it out in journalism.

Why?

Because they like throwing manners to the wind. Because they're excellent at eavesdropping. Because they're great writers- particularly while on deadline.

And because when you're a journalist, you get to raid Moscow casinos in the middle of the night and tell the world about it.

Way to go Ana. Chapeau.

We've come a long way since Urbana-Champaign.

With deep admiration,

Shannon

blunders

2009-06-29T19:41:00.002+03:00

I tend to mess up words. Like when an incorrect word or phrase gets stuck in my head, it's there indefinitely. Today I discovered a new mistake I've been making for ~10 years.

But first some background on my mistakes. For example, I consistently misidentify figs and dates. I tell everyone I lived next to a date tree in Jordan. I'm pretty sure it was a fig tree. Or maybe it was a date tree. I have no idea. Ask Alex.

Another example: The phrases "rubbing off" and "wearing off" -- total effin mystery to me which is which. I am always offending Alex by telling people his little quirks are rubbing/wearing off on me. He corrects me and I say, "Right Babe. Got it." Then I make the mistake again.

Other botched phrases:

"He's a dyed in the wool XYZ." I have been known to say, "He's a dyed in that lamb ...er ... whatever XYZ."

"That's your ace in the hole." I tend to revert to, "That's that card in the thing."

There's some phrase about spades. I never get it right. There's another one about throwing dead cats at something and hitting an XYZ (or maybe not hitting an XYZ?). I don't even attempt that any longer. Too potentially offensive.

But my classic Shannon mistakes are the ones I make in foreign languages. Those mistakes are infinite and oftentimes unrecognized by me. The list grows daily.

For instance, the English expression, "It's not the end of the world" does NOT translate into French. If you say, "Ce n'est pas de fin du monde" everyone will think you are some type of heretic who insists on bringing up Armageddon. Not cool.

Today, I learned my latest lifelong mistake. It's almost too random to be funny. For some reason, my whole life I have thought that the French word for "spider" was "cendrillon". I don't know why. In Madagascar - a francophone country - there are many spiders. Big cendrillons. Little cendrillons. The problem is, cendrillon does NOT means spider. It means... CINDERELLA. As in, THE DISNEY PRINCESS. How the hell did I get a Disney character and an insect mixed up? No idea. But I have pointed out Cinderellas to taxi drivers, colleagues and tour guides. Never - not even once - did anyone say, "Yo Shannon, you keep calling spiders Cinderellas. WTF?" I only learned because when I turned on the TV tonight, "CENDRILLON" (as in, the Princess) popped on the screen singing with her animal friends.

The French word for spider? I have no idea. No point learning it. Because no matter how many times someone drills it into my head, I will call the next French spider I see Cinderella. Only this time, I'll know why everyone's laughing.

xo

Shannon

Cade of the Week- Summertime Cade

2009-06-27T22:42:00.002+03:00

I'm a little overwhelmend sometimes by how adorable my Godson is:

I can't wait to take you on adventures all around the world Little Buddy!

xoxo!

Auntie Shannon

Lemurs

2009-06-25T22:07:00.007+03:00

Before the internet cuts, I want to show some photos of Madagascar's most famous furry residents, "les lemuriens":

This is the lemur I wanted to take home for my brother. I named him Bob:

Bob and friends:

On the lookout, Bob wants bananas:

These are really little lemurs- distant cousins of Bob. There are roughly 54 different types of lemurs in Madagascar.

This is where things get a little funny. Here is Robert, my colleague and travel buddy:

Robert is very comfortable around lemurs. In fact, Robert with lemurs on his back is the happiest version of Robert I've ever seen. Here is Robert with a lemur I will call Rico. Rico and Robert bonded for about a half an hour while we walked around the forest.

Here is me with Rico's buddy. We'll call her Rockette. Rockette decided that she should jump on my face and begin pawing me with her squishy little fingers. At around this time (when Rockette began nibbling my hair and earlobes), I started thinking, "I really really really wish I got that rabies vaccine."

There are many embarrassing photos of Rockette and her best buddy double-teaming me. But this is a PG-rated blog (for Cade). So I'll keep it clean.

Here are some really shy lemurs that- to my delight - don't like to jump on your face.

This lemur is named Caramel. Caramel and Robert shared a heart-to-heart. Caramel talked about how hard it was for him to survive the cyclone of 2007. He came to this forest alone, stranded, girlfriendless. There are no lemurs like him in his new forest, but he's happy enough that he has stayed for the past few years.

These are the "show-off" lemurs that tried to interrupt Robert and Caramel's bonding moment:

These lemurs are also jumpers. But they don't lick, so it was a welcome visit:

This is one of our guides, who bears an uncanny resemblance to a certain American politician:

Beyond being funny little animals, there's something striking about lemurs. Especially when the leap through the air or seem to get caught up in a deep thought:

The end!

xo!

Shannon

First Week in Madagascar

2009-06-17T14:54:00.004+03:00

Hello Everyone! I can't write much because I'm using a bad connection. I'm in Madagascar for the next few weeks. Hope to post more photos soon. First impressions: beautiful landscape, good food, friendly people, funky language. Remarkably easier to travel as an American under the new president.

Below is the view from the plane as we were flying to the capital, Antananrivo.

Kids- the best part of any country

Lots of rice paddies

Clay earth and blue mountains.

More on what I'm doing here later. I'm working. I swear.

On Friday, I'm going with Robert (a colleague here and classmate at Hopkins) to Andasibe-Mantadia National Park. Our goal: to find a lemur for my brother.

Shannon (possibly like the luckiest girl in the world)

Cade of the Week

2009-05-30T16:14:00.002+03:00

Poolside Cade, his first vacation.

Thursday, I took a comprehensive exam. The exam started at 8 am and ended at 6 pm. By 7:00 pm, I was well on my way to consuming my weight in alcohol. Classes at Hopkins are officially finished. I'm off to Madagascar to conduct research next week.

Photo of the week

2009-05-09T05:53:00.000+03:00

Cade, lounging.

Doctor visits

2009-05-02T17:27:00.003+03:00

Because the Hopkins student insurance covers 100% of the cost of doctor visits, I have made 2009 the year of squeezing in visits.

GP visit.
Pathology lab.
Radiology visit.
Ob/Gyn visit.
Pathology lab.
Ob/Gyn visit #2.
Pathology lab.
Eye doctor visit.

The funny thing is, as a public health student, doctors treat me as though I should know various scientific terms.

Or I should want to see the instruments they're using to probe me.

During a recent cervical exam I had to prop myself onto my elbows, look over my legs (which were in stirrups) and tell the doctor, "Doc, I can see how it would make sense for me to be interested in learning about your devices and your stretching and probing mechanisms. But I'm public health. I'm into, like, germs and disease. Epidemiology. Hand washing makes me happy. But if you show me the scraping thing again I will keel over and die."

The doctor peeked his head around my legs.

"Oh, of course."

A nurse was also in the room, standing behind the doctor. She looked at me, gave a 100-watt smile and winked.

Cade of the week

2009-04-27T05:38:00.000+03:00

Cade in the sink.

Baltimore, a resource-poor city

2009-04-07T05:50:00.002+03:00

Today, we have no water. Not even a trickle. Alex called the water utility company and a woman politely informed us that they have no idea when the water will be turned back on in our neighborhood.

It's just like being back in the deserts of southern Jordan, only in Baltimore we have more robberies, rapes, guns and drugs.

Term 4

2009-03-24T19:45:00.002+02:00

I wish I had more time to write about the characters running around Hopkins.

***
Funny e-mail correspondence of the day:
I received a one-line message from a Hopkins friend and loyal reader of this blog.
E-mail headline: Dr. Diarrhea
E-mail text: First slide in Sack's Class THINK DIARRHEA

My response: oh my god. it actually said that? in bold?i think im going to fall off my chair

Her response: and then he showed a picture of someone running to the bathroom

Ah, Dr. Diarrhea!

***
Also today, my (new) biostatistics professor made a particularly funny joke. Let me preface this by saying that while I am taking biostatistics this term, I am not masochistic; this stats class is much easier and it includes a new professor. The professor's motto: "Pay the fee, get the B." I'll take it.

So the prof (who took many opportunities to make fun of our previous stats professors) informed us that we would not need to complete "problem sets" and we would not be doing "extra self-evaluations" as we have in past terms.

"The last few terms they had you doing, what was it, 'self-evaluation problems?" the professor said, with a fair dose of mockery. "I'm not into 'self-evaluation' of this kind. Here, we 'self-evaluate' by looking in the mirror and saying How you doin'? "

Today, I'm doing just fine.

My open letter to Baltimore Mayor, Sheila Dixon

2009-03-21T00:04:00.001+02:00

Dear Mayor Dixon,

I want to begin by saying that I believe Baltimore is a beautiful, vibrant city. I have enjoyed my time in Baltimore - the music festivals, the world-class museums, the parades - and I feel fortunate to be a member of the Hopkins community and the broader Baltimore community.

Unfortunately, though, I am writing to say that I have never felt as unsafe, anywhere, in any city, as I feel in Baltimore (and I am a Chicago native who has spent the past few years working in the Middle East).

When I first came to Baltimore in June 2008, I planned to move to Charles Village. The day my real estate broker was showing me the neighborhood, we witnessed a shooting. As two men lay bleeding on the sidewalk outside a dry cleaners (less than a block from a college campus), I decided to apartment hunt elsewhere. I ended up in Mt. Vernon. Here in Mt. Vernon, we have a serial rapist who has been preying on women like me since last Fall. In December, a man was shot in the face three blocks south of my apartment. Over the weekend, someone took a sawzall to my 1998 truck and sold pieces of my car for scrap. Now- on top of feeling unsafe- I have lost roughly $1,000 in the form of a catalytic converter.

I want to love Baltimore. I want to feel safe. I want to be a part of what makes this city great. I am an optimist.

But I'm embarrassed to bring my mother here. Embarrassed because she is convinced Baltimore is unsafe and every time I tell her - "Really, Mom it's a great place"- another Hopkins student gets mugged at gunpoint ... another alcoholic is passed out on my stoop ... another drug addict is urinating on a tree on my street ... another man has decided to "expose" himself to my fellow female colleagues on a bus. These are real incidents that have occurred since August.

I don't know if you personally read your e-mails Mayor Dixon, but if you do, please know that this Balitmore resident believes that crime is the most pressing issue in your city. The lack of officers on foot patrol, the lack of oversight of criminal activity and the lack of legislation blocking thieves from re-selling ripped off car parts.

I am saddened to be writing this letter.

Sincerely,

Shannon McMahon
Mt. Vernon Resident

Hopkins Cade

2009-03-15T18:56:00.004+02:00

Collegiate Cade:

Cade's baptism was a few weeks ago. Before leaving for Illinois, I grabbed coffee with my friends Laura, Vanessa and Maria. There was a present on the table.

"Here you go," Laura said, smiling. "It's for Cade!"

"For Cade?" I said. "What did he do?"

"He's getting baptized so we got him a present," she said.

"Oh that's so nice of you guys!" I said, looking at the blue and yellow gift wrap. "Do you mind if I open it when I'm with him?"

(insert look of dismay from friends)

"Uh, it's not for you. It's for Cade," Laura said, with a hint of how-many-times-do-I-have-explain-this in her voice.

"Oh, um, right," I said, waiting for them to smile and say But we realize he is three months old and cant actually open things.

"And he may want to just eat it, FYI," Vanessa said.

Cade loved the gift. He kicked itthe gift, played with the crinkling paper and then we dressed him in his newest Hopkins outfit.

Thanks to Laura, Maria and Vanessa. xo from Cade

Music blends

2009-03-15T06:10:00.002+02:00

I nearly never recommend music, but this CD is incredible. Remixed Neil Young, Paul Simon, Nick Drake, Feist. I can't stop listening. I'm finally on Spring Break. Between that and the end of biostats ... I'm in heaven.

Newsosaursus Ex

2009-03-13T04:26:00.002+02:00

The other day, my dear friend Ramona asked me about my dream job. Usually this sparks a lively conversation. Instead I got teary.

"I have lots of dream jobs, " I said to Ramona, "but my real dream job - the one I actually feel in my dreams - doesn't exist, or at least it won't for very long. (pause, insert dramatic tears here) I wanted to be a great reporter. To spend my life at a newspaper. To cover great stories, meet great people, see the world."

Ramona got nervous and asked, "So why don't you do that?"

Because today being in the news biz is akin to being in the buggy biz when cars came along. It just doesn't work.

I read this article in the New York Times today and couldn't help but feel like a great, beautiful thing - newspaper journalism - is dying.

http://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2009/03/12/business/20090312-papers-graphic.html

Thankfully, this public health gig- the thing Hopkins calls "saving lives millions at a time" - is also a beautiful thing. But sometimes I wish I was born a few generations ago to enjoy the heyday of papers.

Computer Condoms Burst Again

2009-03-03T21:37:00.001+02:00

You know you're at a school of public health when they talk about quarantining flash drives.

"The computer labs are infected with a USB Key virus. If you have used a USB key for data storage in one of the computer lab computers, please take that key to W3014 for quarantine and scanning. If you have shared a key that was in the computer lab with someone today in their laptop or desktop, please take the laptop toW3014 for a scan or open a helpc all to have your desktop scanned."

This place is strange, e-mail sent to all students today

2009-02-26T22:31:00.002+02:00

Keep in mind as you read this that we are messing with malaria- and LOTS of other diseases - in the microbiology labs...

****

The following message is sent on behalf of Johns Hopkins Health, Safety and Environment:

There was a recent incident at JHSPH in which a staff member suffered an adverse respiratory reaction when someone transporting chemicals got on the passenger elevator she was riding.

We would like to remind laboratory staff that chemicals should only be transported on freight elevators. All containers must be closed and should be placed in secondary containers (e.g. plastic tubs) to contain spills in case of breakage. Those transporting the materials should have absorbents with them in case of a spill.

If your job requires access to the JHSPH freight elevators, please contact So-and-So (-sm) in Support Services for assistance.

Thank you for your cooperation.

****

Ah, the fun never ends.

Shannon

With a face like this,

2009-02-02T05:09:00.000+02:00

... who could say no?!?!! Caderoo, I'm honored!

Cade's new kicks, to match his Hopkins onesies

Cade's itty bitty toes...

xoxoxo,
your (gushing) G-Momma

Back to School fun with Dr. Diarrhea

2009-01-23T23:48:00.002+02:00

Lunch hour again and it's time to discuss excessive bowel movements with my favorite Hopkins prof, Dr. Sack (who I introduced last year as Dr. Diarrhea).

Why discuss diarrhea over lunch? Because it's fun. And because graduate students must live overseas (in countries rich with infectious diseases) to conduct research. And because Dr. Sack wants us to be clear on the germs and worms that will likely invade our bodies.

Why do a bunch of overeducated researchers expose their bodies to sometimes-lethal microorganisms? I'm not totally sure.

Have you, Shannon, considered postponing future adventures until that happy time when we have malaria, HIV, dengue and shiggellosis vaccines? Uh, yeah.

Gems of wisdom from Dr. Diarrhea:

"I begin by saying that getting bad diarrhea is part of the deal with being a Masters student."

"Bottled water isn't safe. Watch Slumdog Millionaire."

With food "Peel it, boil it or forget it. Bananas are just great."

"One good trip to the toilet is about 200 milliliters."

"When you've really got a problem is when the stool includes blood and you feel a fever." (at this point, I cringed and whispered Oh God.)

"You can get bad diarrhea many times, but think of the bright side, you can sometimes build up a bit of an immunity."

"There used to be no such thing as malaria in cities. But now, if you go to Calcutta, you'll see. There is now urban malaria." (here my friend Vanessa, who narrowly survived dengue fever, added, "Wear white socks. Mosquitos like dark socks, so wear white socks to keep the mosquitos away" and I thought I'm officially surrounded by crazy people)

Parting thoughts:

On Schistosomiasis: "There used to be this lovely lake in Malawi where young Peace Corps volunteers would swim. Then one day they all got schistosomiasis. Don't go swimming."

On Tapeworms: Living overseas is the time to go Kosher. Tapeworms grow in pigs (and dogs). In infested pork, if you see little white balls you are looking at tapeworm larvae. Don't eat them. (If the meat has already been ground up and is in the form of, say, sausage... you can't tell and you are screwed.)

Bon appetit!

Shannon

what a weekend

2009-01-21T05:49:00.002+02:00

Alex and I headed south to DC this weekend to celebrate the inauguration. We were near the Washington Monument, about a mile and half from the stage at the Lincoln Memorial. Obama wasn't even a dot in the distance, but when he took the stage and his face appeared on a jumbo-tron, a woman with a hat full of Obama pins cried, "Barack, baby, I LOVE YOU." It dawned on me then that this weekend was more about the crowds, the crazy millions dancing, laughing and tearing up in the freezing cold than it was about the guy perched at the podium.

Photos to follow.

Shannon

swish swish swish

2009-01-16T19:04:00.003+02:00

It was so cold this morning that I dressed in ski pants for work.

Walking down a hall of this suddenly-very-professional-seeming office, I realized how loud ski pants sound indoors.

A researcher (who happens to be a luminary in the field of public health communication) peeked out of her office to see what all the noise was.

"It's pretty cold out there," I said sheepishly, while silently saying "Sweet Mother of Jesus this is embarrassing."

In an effort to stop the swishing, I tried to walk without letting my legs touch. This would be no problem if I was bow-legged Texas cowboy. Unfortunately, I'm curvy Midwesterner whose thighs do, in fact, touch.

No sooner did I realize how hard it is to walk bow-legged than yet another researcher saw me.

"Morning Shannon," he said with an almost- straight face.

"Hi," I said, instinctively stopping (to stop the swishing). "I'm just waiting here. I'm going to meet someone here."

"Okay Shannon," he said. "Have a good one."

I keep checking the door of my office to see if security personnel have been called to escort me from the building.

a break

2008-12-24T02:49:00.002+02:00

Home for Christmas... finally. Thank God.

Nothing like like a little narcissim!

Who knew you could love something so little, so much?

Cade the Elf. This was at Mom and Dad's Christmas party. The day after, Cade had a baby hangover; lots of sleeping and eating ... all day. ;)

Shannon

A new weakness for bald men....

2008-12-12T02:12:00.004+02:00

Cade at 4 weeks... check out that bib!

all smiles...

Auntie Shannon

I hate the word accident

2008-12-09T05:15:00.001+02:00

I heard booming on the street outside my window Saturday night. It wasn't startling. I hear glass break, people scream, music blare and buses bounce along the street almost every night. But this time the pounding was different; it was more prolonged and kind of melodic.

I looked out the window and, lo and behold, there was an accident. A black minivan blew a red light and smashed into a small, 4-door sedan. Somehow another car was involved, I'm not sure how.

"Well well well," I thought. "Something to enrich my otherwise boring night." (I was writing a paper on psychological perceptions of risk. Sounds interesting. Is actually boring.)

the scene:

The first car to pull up to the accident was a cop, so my duties as a citizen were waived. I grabbed my camera.

Click, click click.

I called Alex, who was in Boston, to share the exciting news.

"Babe, you are not going to believe what you're missing. A guy plowed into a car and now our intersection is blocked by three cars. There's tons of cops (I exaggerated) and a firetruck. No firetruck dog, but I think I see a HOSE."

It felt exciting. Until something happened that made me want to vomit.

A firemen pulled out big metal pliers- the "jaws of life"- and another fireman crawled into the passenger's side door of the impacted vehicle. I hadn't even noticed. A woman was still inside the crushed car.

Why isn't she getting out? It's cold outside? She doesn't have a hat. Can't she crawl over the passenger's seat?

A fireman pried the driver's side door off. The woman was pulled out of the car, her head hung like a rag doll. The body was placed on a stretcher. There was no rushing. No medics. No resuscitation. No sense that this was a person who was going to be saved. They put a sheet over body.

"Oh my God," I said and hung up the phone.

At 7 pm, a woman was driving east on Madison St. past Cathedral St. in Baltimore. She was wearing a red coat, brown pants and brown boats. By 7:30 pm, she was dead.

We have a misnomer in the English language. We call car crashes "accidents". An "accident" is when you don't see a nail on the floor and you step on it. Or when your kid mistakenly pees in his pants because he hasn't learned how to control his bladder. Car crashes (99% of the time) aren't accidents. They're avoidable.

In an "injury class" this semester (Hopkins has an entire center devoted to injuries), we learned a lot about "accidents". If you hit someone at 25 mph, they might live. The statistics get worse as mph goes up. At 85 mph, there is zero chance of survival (for anyone inside or outside the car) 100% of the time.

Addictions acquired in Baltimore

2008-12-04T06:35:00.004+02:00

Addiction #1:

It started innocently.

In early 2008, Alex said he had heard of a TV show that takes place in Baltimore. Called "The Wire", the show is about a team of detectives who investigate murderers and drug dealers. We decided to watch an episode. "Damn," I thought. "They make Baltimore look like a drug-riddled, boarded-up, hooker-infested... carcass of a city. This has to be off base."

After living here a few months, I can safely say that producers were merely shooting the local scenery.

I'm now on season three. When I finish finals this term, priority numero uno is to watch the Wire through the season finale.

ps: Is anybody else addicted to McNulty? And does everyone know that HE AND STRINGER BELL ARE BRITISH, with wimpy English accents!!?! I was shocked and a little saddened.

Addiction #2

That is called "Chipped Beef". I make chipped beef in the morning and at night. I would eat chipped beef all day, every day, but Alex makes me incorporate things like oatmeal and vegetables into my diet.

Some people like to mess with their chipped beef. My friend Maggie has, on occasion, added tomatoes to her chipped beef. I am a purist. I make it the same way every time- on special bread, with a "roux". The roux ingredients are a secret. If Maggie wants to divulge the secret, I will avail her to make a comment. ;)

Addiction #3

Berger Cookies. I have no idea what is in them, but on those occasions when my mouth is stuffed with chocolate and frosting looks like caulk in the creases of my lips... it's because I have recently eaten a Baltimore Berger.

To try these, come to the McMahon family Christmas party on Saturday Dec. 20.

Addiction #4, a fake addiction:

I am not actually addicted to whoopie pies (I would never cheat on my Bergers), but I like the idea of a dessert that has a little whoopie in it.

xo!

Shannon

Charlotte from Charlottesville

2008-11-30T04:18:00.003+02:00

When I look back on life for fortuitous moments, one that comes to mind is a day I knocked on the door of a dumpy house in San Diego and "Charlotte from Charlottesville" opened the door. That was 2005. I was a self-important journalist in need of a new apartment. She was a substitute teacher, sprung from Virginia, in need of a new roommate. We clicked.

I liked Charlotte immediately. Everyone who meets Charlotte likes her immediately. Charlotte sparkles. She's sincere when listening and sensible when giving advice. She maintained a sense of self, even in vapid San Diego. Today, Charlotte's a guidance counselor for at-risk youth in Virginia. She listens to fifth and sixth graders talk about their lives. If there is a phrase stronger than "She has a heart of gold" insert it here.

Charlotte sometimes reads this blog. I imagine that by now she is saying, "Oh my God. Shannon. Stop."

When Charlotte first cooked me Thanksgiving dinner, we had known each other about three weeks. I was wowed by the caliber of her cooking. Two days ago, we celebrated again, this time on the other side of the country as friends with a few years under our belts. We also added a few newcomers to the celebration: Alex (my boyfriend), Brian (her boyfriend) and Maggie (mother of Charlotte, adoptive mother of Alex, Brian and me).

Our dinner:

Turkey:

Gravy:

Table:

The following day, we toured Charlottesville (my favorite American town), which is the home of Thomas Jefferson (my favorite American person). Charlotte thinks my love of her hometown and its hometown hero is a bit excessive. To this, I say that the world hasn't created a person more talented, well-rounded and inspiring than Jefferson, so he's my man. He loved Charlottesville, so do I. This way we have at least one thing in common.

Here's Tommy and me (he's telling me a secret):

Me and Tommy again (his secret was very touching, I would tell you what he said, but it was between the two of us):

Tommy reminded me that what I was doing (perching myself on his lap) was, uh, illegal. So I jumped down and walked around the University of Virginia (which he designed and founded).

The U Va. quad:

The Rotunda, inspired by the Romans (and Greeks):

inside the Rotunda (reminded me of the interior of Rome's Pantheon):

Alex and I, upside down, on the steps of the Rotunda (it's a UVa tradition; I was laughing pretty hard):

And finally, our tour guides and good friends, Char and Brian:

This Thanksgiving, I was thankful for many things. My nephew. My family. My life, generally. But most of all, I was thankful for Charlotte-from-Charlottesville, who means so much to me.

:)

Shannon

You can take the girl out of the Middle East

2008-11-24T07:33:00.001+02:00

Public health students smoke hubbly-bubbly with abandon

The weekend after my birthday, Alex came home and announced that he had made reservations at an Afghan restaurant in Baltimore. The reporter in me knew something was up. Alex has never made reservations for anything.

me, incredulous: You made reservations?

Alex: Yes

me: And you expect me to see this as normal?

A: Yes, of course.

me: So there's no surprise. Nothing that you feel compelled to mention?

A, eyes move downward: No.

me: Nobody else we might be dining with? No special pre-dinner surprise? If, say, I refused to go right now, that wouldn't ... you know... mean you would have to reorganize anything.

A: WHY DO YOU NEVER WANT TO JUST BE SURPRISED?

me, delighted with myself: HA! I GOT IT! Well Laura and Maria Cecilia LOVE that place so I hope they will serve as the surprise guests.

A: YEAH. WELL. THEY'RE COMING.

me: YAAAAYYY!

And so it happened that I celebrated my birthday with Laura, Maria Cecilia and Alex. First at an Afghan restaurant in Mt. Vernon and, later, at a hookah bar in Federal Hill. It was a truly wonderful day.

xo

Cha

K & G for men, for me, for we

2008-11-19T04:15:00.004+02:00

It was a cold, Baltimore night. Shannon and Alex were on the hunt for a suit. Alex was nervous; Shannon was tipsy.

"The interview is in less than a week," he said. "I need a suit. Tonight."

"This sucks," she said.

Mens Wearhouse, a bust. Neiman Marcus, too rich for their blood. Desperate, they drove. The bleakness of Baltimore seemed to engulf them when, suddenly, it appeared. Shining from a hilltop above I-695 was a sign "K & G Men's Fashion: Men's Suits $99! We HAVE THE SUIT FOR YOU next exit".

They exited.

"This looks cheap," she said, surveying the empty parking lot and fluorescent, warehouse lights.

"Great!" he said.

Inside, adds for Sean John , Phat Farm and Mecca USA covered the walls. A clerk named Jerome approached. He seemed ready to say, "Are you two lost? What the hell are you doing here?" But instead "Uh, what are you looking for?" rolled off his tongue.

"We need a suit," they said in near-unison.

Jerome, an athletic African American male of moderate build with hint of bling (watch, earring, cuff links, necklace... okay, more than a hint), directed the young couple to several light colored suits. His hands ran along shelves of magenta and purple shirts. Before he had a chance to raise a hanger on a violet tie with lilac bubbles, she said:

"Jerome. This suit-tie combo is for a fashion-free event. We're looking for something that says boring and traditional."

Jerome laughed.

Two hours later, this is what we ended up with (thanks, in part, to Jerome our new best friend):

That's a Nubio tie.

And maybe the best news of all: the suit worked.

Alex was officially accepted to George Washington Medical School 3 days after his interview.

K & G ... forever!

Shannon

Cade William Koehler

2008-11-16T02:49:00.002+02:00

In the scope of human experience, there may be something more exciting than welcoming a baby into a family. I can't imagine what that is.

Here is Cade William Koehler.

If you like your kids, if you love them from the moment they begin, you yourself begin all over again, in them, with them, and so there is something more to the world again.

- William Saroyan, American Author

I HAVE A NEPHEW!!!

2008-11-13T20:53:00.004+02:00

I HAVE A NEPHEW!

HE WAS BORN A HALF HOUR AGO. HE IS 7 POUNDS AND A BUNCH OF OUNCES. HE HAS FUZZY HAIR! AND A REALLY CUTE MOUTH. Right now, as of 2:09 pm EST, he is eating!!!!NAME TO BE DECIDED!!!!

AM OVER THE MOON (BUT SITTING IN CLASS....)

AUNT SHANNON

oh oh the places you go

2008-11-12T18:56:00.003+02:00

A year ago today, I celebrated my birthday in Jordan.

In 06, Istanbul.
In 05 and 04, California.
In 03, DC.
In 02, Illinois.
In 01, France...

Last night, I celebrated in Baltimore with people who I didn't even know just three months ago. That made this birthday feel very much like those in past.

To my (dynamic, thoughtful, rockin') friends in Illinois, New York, Mexico, Germany, Wisconsin, France, Turkey, California and Maryland... thanks for the birthday wishes.

xo

Shannon

steamy

2008-11-08T21:26:00.000+02:00

FYI: if you're ever being tortured and the torturer says, "Shall I burn your hand with fire or steam?" PICK THE FIRE. DONT PICK THE STEAM. Steam burns kill. Steam seeps under your skin, melts it and then gives you pain that's ... a throbbing, searing, hold-back-tears-because-you're-supposedly-a-big-girl kind of pain.

Thankfully, most of my professors and advisers are also MDs so I didn't have to go far to find help.

Shannon

My vote

2008-11-05T09:02:00.004+02:00

I voted for Barack Obama to be President of the United States. Like my friends, professors and former colleagues (but unlike my family), I picked a candidate who represented reform, change, hope, charisma, strength, togetherness, intelligence.... a lot of things I mistakenly thought George Bush possessed in 2000.

I'm not as excited about my vote as most Obama supporters. Maybe it's because of my Republican upbringing. Because I have a Dad who jokes about learning Arabic with Obama bin Laden as president. Because my e-mail is flooded with pro-Palin, "NoObama" e-mails from my grandfather. Because I don't consider myself fiscally liberal. Because I'm investing a lot of hope in someone I don't know.

But I voted for Obama because I believe in the power of gifted individuals to raise America's hopes when we are at historic lows (FDR, Lincoln), and I believe that through my vote I'm rejecting the incompetence of a Republican party that drove my country into the ground.

In the end, however, when the confetti settles, the speeches end and "the change we can believe in" begins, I hope this man keeps the momentum going. I hope he proves that beyond giving mellifluous speeches that hint at his place in history - he makes life better in my country, makes me proud to say I'm American and makes all the nay-sayers in my family and my hometown realize that, sometimes, change is good.

a funny professor

2008-11-04T04:20:00.006+02:00

My favorite prof this semester is Thomas Burke. He teaches what may be my favorite course, Public Health Practice. Burke has worked under various administrations and has lots to say about political appointees "spending more time with their families." Burke was "encouraged" to "spend more time with his family" after a political fallout a few years ago.

Some interesting things prof Burke said today:

"Here's a chart of the department of Health and Human Services, which overseas the FDA, CDC, NIH and a bunch of other acronyms. The secretary of Health and Human Services overseas these health-related branches," his hand scrolled down the list, "In the history of HHS, how many secretaries do you think were trained in public health?? Ten? Two? No. ZERO. My goal in life is that someone, anyone who has ever studied public health practice will one day hold this position."

...

"I have a PhD in Epidemiology, this, I believe, excludes me from being considered for Secretary of HHS."

...

"The Surgeon General of the United States, he's a smart guy with an important job, but his operating budget is tiny. So really, the surgeon general is a smart person with no money" -pause- "why, that sounds like a Hopkins Professor!"

I suspect this semester will be better than the last.

xo

Shannon

The Condom Guy

2008-11-02T20:22:00.003+02:00

A few posts ago, I wrote about viruses at the school of public health and an IT guy who told our incoming class that anti-virus software is "it's like a condom for a computer."

As luck would have it, Computer Condom Guy and I work in the same office. The other day I was walking down a hall and spotted him. Visions of giant condom-encased computers danced in my head and I said, "Computer Condom GUY! It's you! We meet again! How are you?!"

Computer Condom Guy, also called Randy, has no idea who I am. I was in audience of 1,000 on the day he gave the Computer Condom talk.

"You don't know me but I met you during your talk about computer condoms. Remember? Your talk? During orientation?!"... "The talk about the CONDOMS?"

If it's possible for a black guy to blush, Randy would have been purple. Randy choked on some air, tried to tuck his head into his neck and said, "I'm not sure what you're talking about but you've got to stop with the condom talk or you're going to get me in trouble."

me: "Don't even pretend that you didn't proclaim- before an audience of 1,000 people during orientation, that you are Mr. Computer Condom distributor."

Randy: still turning purple.

me: "Well, it was a great speech. Definitely unforgettable. Unfortunately though, my computer CONDOM BROKE."

Randy: now has nervousness radiating from every pore of his body.

me: "Thankfully though, your colleagues FIXED THE CONDOM and it is now UP and running."

And here I started laughing and walked away.

:)

Shannon

Introducing Carlos Fernando

2008-10-27T01:36:00.002+02:00

In an effort to cheer up after a disastrous couple of weeks (see every post for the month of October), I spent Friday playing with my little buddy Avery, a giggling 5-month-old. Saturday, I ran around Baltimore with my friend Laura, a slightly-less-giggly 24 year-old. And today I pored over old photos. Below are my three favorite pics of Baby Carlos. These were taken during a summer trip to Mexico.

"It's a little cold down here guys..."

Post bath singing is fun!

oh how I love animals that dangle overhead!

Baby Carlos makes peeping noises and squeaks when he gets excited (like in the photo above). I melt in his presence.

Update: my sister's baby is due in just 11 days! Right now the baby weighs about 7 pounds and is forcing Colleen to get up and pee roughly 827358974 times a day. :)

xo

Tia Chanon

On school

2008-10-23T02:08:00.004+03:00

I was never really a school person. In first grade, I was in a slow-learner group. Our books looked different from everybody elses'. When other kids in the slow group got promoted to a mid-level reading group, I was crushed. I stayed behind in reading for years. In fourth grade, I was among the last group of students to be admitted to the Pen Club. Other kids smeared ink on their hands and homework; I was with moronic scribblers - relegated to using pencils forever.

High school was more of the same. I spent a lot of time as class president and girlfriend to the cool guy. Studying was saved for the night before an exam. College was an exercise in procrastination.

Mid-college, upon returning from nearly two years overseas, I noticed that something changed. My desire and ability to absorb, remember and repeat copious amounts of information was amplified. It took 21 years, but I finally became a student. I began to appreciate knowledge for knowledge's sake. I started to value the acquisition and reiteration of facts and ideas.

Before starting this masters program, I thought having a zest for knowledge and an unquenchable curiousity was enough to help you excell in school. Not true. At this level, it seems the underlying reality is that you either come to the table having already studied some version of public health, or you throw yourself into the process and try not to crack under the weight of topics like epidemiology, biostatistics and lecture upon lecture about dead moms, dead babies and death among millions and millions of people every year.

To say I'm struggling in this program is an understatement. I've never been this bad at something... despite trying so hard.

I guess I didn't come to Hopkins out of a lifelong dream to be a health expert. And I'm not doing this because it's what I'm good at or what other people tell me I should do. I'm "doing" public health because I believe nothing is more valuable than health and everybody deserves a shot at a healthy life.

But I swear to God, if I have to repeat motherfucking biostatistics next year, I just might check this dream at the door.

wolves

2008-10-16T04:49:00.004+03:00

In epidemiology lab today, on the heels of flunking a recent biostats quiz, I began searching for phrases to describe my despair.

"Up you-know-which creek without a paddle" doesn't suffice; I've been in creeks without paddles, it was fun.

"Flying blind" comes close but the sky is big and the chances of immediate crashes are small and, again, there is the element of fun.

Midway through my daydream, I realized I wasn't alone. The prof interrupted her review session and said to a student, "You look like you have a question. What is your question?" and he said, "I feel lost, like I'm in the woods, and it's dark and I'm blind" and here he paused before adding (perhaps for good measure), "and, oh yeah, I think there might be some wolves."

I couldn't have said it better myself.

Fortuitous

2008-10-13T02:46:00.002+03:00

I went before a scholarship panel at Hopkins Friday. The panel's aim is to critique proposed projects before they are sent to the Fulbright commission, which awards the scholarships. The rumor is, if the panel doesn't like you or your project, they give you a zero-score and your project dies when it hits Fulbright's headquarters.

With these thoughts swirling in mind, I walked into the Friday meeting. I was tired and when the questions started firing, I was blunt. Too blunt. I have a bad habit of being too blunt in interviews.

reviewers - "So what exactly do you want to do next year? What is your project"

me- "Exactly? I don't know. I have an idea, but I really can't say what I'll do exactly."

Eyebrows went up around the room. This was a very wrong response.

Continuing on....

reviewers- "Shannon, it seems to us you should be sweating over a few of your word choices here. You can't use the word destitute and poor. You can't say a lot of the things you are saying here."

me- "Okay."

reviewers- "And you say here, something about changing the Calculus of Death. What is a Calculus of Death? You can't say Calculus of Death."

me- "Okay."

reviewers- "And no contractions. You can't use contractions. And you can't say you're fascinated with public health. And you can't say you wish or hope or plan to do something. You have to say you WILL do something."

me- (here I pulled out a pen and started jotting notes) "No wishing, hoping, thinking" (and my mind started internally singing that song at the beginning of My Best Friend's Wedding)

I walked out of the meeting with much the same feeling as when I walked out of a meeting for a scholarship through the Rotary Foundation, a scholarship with the Washington Center for Politics and Journalism and pretty much every job interview I've ever had. It was a disaster. So abysmal was my performance that I think the committee was trying not to laugh.

Thankfully, a panelist took pity. She told me about a friend of hers who works in Mali. Who has published copious amount of literature on Mali and who just might make herself available. She added that this friend likes coffee.

We met for coffee for a little more than 3 hours yesterday. We talked about Fulbright and about Mali. But we also talked about life and Hopkins and prioritizing and college debt and publishing and PhDs and I walked away thinking, "Thank God my statement of purpose was a disaster. This was the most fortuitious thing to happen since arriving at Hopkins."

The most important thing she told me: Getting a Fulbright is great. Not getting it... ain't the end of the world. But I'll rework my proposal and give it my best shot.

xo

Shannon

Make friends, get pregnant!

2008-10-07T05:53:00.002+03:00

Making friends and babies in Chicago!

Colleen and Baby Koehler, 2008

Just when I thought the world was full of unhappy, old curmudgeons, I went out with my pregnant sister last week. It was like... the world showed itself ANEW.

We got special parking spots (see photo above!). People opened doors for us. Cashiers apologized because they couldn't accept products we were trying to return (although they were from different stores). Strangers melted and started conversations about the excitement of first children, the wonder of new life, the adorableness of itty-bitty pitter-patters.

We threw a party for Colleen and Baby K on Saturday. In a testament to the coolness of my sister, the baby shower was really a party where baby items happened to be displayed. We all got drunk (except Colleen, the designated driver). Dad bartended. It was a blast. And as everyone ooed and cooed at Colleen's belly, I stood nearby, pointed with pride at her bump... and pretended to have something to do with the process. "Yes, that's right, she's my sister. So that's my niece or nephew. Yes, I know, and see over there, those are the gifts that I bought Baby K. They are the cutest, best gifts because I am The World's Coolest, Best Aunt."

I am over the moon about Baby K entering the world. I'm on the verge of inducing my sister myself to get BK to join the party of life. For now, BK is happily swimming in the bubble of Colleen's belly, as evidenced here: http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=_InFWozIZhU

BK- Come out and play already! I have so many things to share with you!!!

xo

Auntie Shannon