I find it hard to write these days. The story I write on a Monday can be completely different by Tuesday. The picture I paint of the area around my office and home is nothing like the experience of Kenyans in Nairobi’s slums, just minutes away. And short-term peace and calm don’t capture the long-term reconstruction that lies ahead for Kenya.

Today, Monday, Nairobi feels more “normal” than it has in weeks: the streets are congested, shops are busy, and people are going about their usual business. But it is hard to know how long that will last; the opposition just called for more protests, and more violence broke out in the slums and Kisumu and Eldoret yesterday. And I’m reminded by Joseph Karoki’s photo blog: “As people try to get back to ‘normal’ life around the country, it is important to remember that there is no normal for a lot of people in Kenya.”

Karoki is one of many who have reacted in the blogosphere, where some of the most interesting dialogue and protest unfold. One particularly interesting website Ushaidi allows people to report on violence around the country. Ushaidi is the Kiswahili word for witness. And so I keep writing, to be another witness, even when I don’t really know what to say.

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The last time I saw Dorah, at her Senye clinic in Kibera, we discussed the challenges of providing health care in an urban slum. She shared with me her commitment to the community. Today, as we talk about her personal safety and the security of her shop, her commitment speaks for itself.

Kibera has been one of the hardest hit areas in the post-election violence in Kenya. In the last two weeks, Dorah has faced a raid on her clinic by looters, fears for her own safety, and concerns about how to re-stock her supplies until vehicles can reach her. Yet she continues to operate with little disruption.

“We never know what will happen, day to day,” Dorah describes. “But I’ll be here as long as I can be.”

I am struck by two things as I listen to Dorah: 1) She is a remarkably strong, courageous and committed woman, and a reason for hope in the midst of all of this uncertainty. I wonder if I would continue my work, if I were in Dorah’s shoes? 2) There is something to the fact that Dorah is personally invested in Kibera. She doesn’t just work there; she owns a business there. She has something at stake, and she will fight for it. More on this soon.

Parliament is meeting today in Nairobi, and ODM has called for three days of protests, beginning tomorrow. With that comes great uncertainty for all of us in Nairobi, but especially for Dorah and residents of Kibera. “There is a lot of tension here today, we really don’t know what will happen tomorrow,” Dorah says softly. But as images from Parliament appear angry and heated, Dorah, Millicent and other franchisees continue to work with courage and commitment.

A group of women marched past our apartment this morning, singing “Kumbaya, My Lord,” and the Kenyan National anthem. I can’t imagine a more peaceful or positive message.

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A few minutes later a call from Jon, just down the road: the police are throwing tear gas at the ‘protesters’.

6:30pm

For the first time all day I am focused enough to make some progress on my work, when my colleague Chris rushes into my office: “Kalonzo was just declared VP. You should get home quickly, ODM might react.” After several days of peace, another setback.

I get home without any trouble; the only thing out of the ordinary on my commute is the local police station, where soldiers pile into a truck with face masks and guns. They are likely headed to Kibera, where more violence has broken out again as people react to the news.

Friends & I head to Tamasha (our neighborhood bar) to talk, as reports trickle in of more violence in Kisumu, Kibera and Mathare. A friend in Kisumu – where things had finally settled – describes people back on the streets, burning roadblocks and chanting about attacking Kikuyu homes. It is still unclear how this will affect the uneasy peace of the last few days; depends largely on how Raila reacts and the on the effectiveness of AU President John Kuofor’s mediation.

I struggle to wrap my head around all of the complexities of the past few days — the fact that most Kenyans want peace, but parts of the country are still up in flames — that things are business-as-usual in most of Nairobi, while people are still hungry in Kibera and Mathare.

Each day is a mix ups and downs, good news & bad. On the one hand we confirmed that all of SHF’s nurses are okay. Remarkable considering how many operate in Kibera and Kisumu, the hardest hit areas of Kenya. And even more remarkable: all of them are still operating, some without interruption. Conversations with Millicent and our other franchisees are a reminder of their strength and the importance of their work, especially in times like this.

But everyone is eager for some real signs of progress from the top; news that will build trust and hope, rather than set off already frustrated people. People are tired. They never expected this in their country, their Kenya.

I found a chilling video from my first days in Kibera, where Millicent’s nurse aide talks about the challenges of operating their Kibera clinic: 1) Many patients cannot afford to pay, 2) The insecurity of the campaign period, after which “I think things will be okay.”