I remember sitting on the floor of my mom's studio two years ago, reading my 'welcome to kenya' acceptance letter for the first time. Then, I had no way of knowing what Kenya would throw at me, and how challenging it would really be. I didn't know how tired, energized, uplifted, and depressed I could feel on a daily basis. I couldn't have known how hard I would have to fight for my independence from men. I never really knew how much one person's understanding smile could make a whole day at peace. They say that for most volunteer it is not the amenities (or lack of) that produce the most challenges. For me, at least, that could not be more true. I hardly blind anymore when my water is deep dark dirt brown, or when my electricity is out. I enjoy the half and hour walk just to get to the village where I get a matatu to arrive in a substantial town. I love the feeling of accomplishment when I finish a load of hand-washed laundry and hang it out to dry in the blazing equator sun. No, the challenges run much deeper. I struggle to be heard in a culture that, in my experience, does not value the opinions of women. It is a challenge to be without the family and friends that I am used to. It is a challenge to teach students that have so much going against them.
When I first got to site, these challenges were far too overwhelming. I remember waking up each morning with the pep of getting ready for school, only to sag my shoulders as I remember 'two years'. Even knowing I could finish my service, I still had that question in the back of my head of 'really, can I do this?' As I got used to my students, people in town started to smile when they saw me, and my neighbors learned my name (Caroline and Karen are close enough), I woke up less and less accompanied by that big number of TWO YEARS hanging over my head. At some point it disappear all together.
In two weeks I will travel to my Close of Service conference, which is supposed to prepare us for leaving the country in just a few months. Naturally, this leads me to reflect a little. At first glance, the two years seem like such a short amount of time. But then I remember the weddings I have missed, the babies that have been born, and the changes in the US since I have left. I remember that we have a new president who is almost halfway through his term. I remember that I have almost spent one year each at two different schools. I remember all of the people I have met during my time in Kenya. I remember the first volunteer in our group who left early, through to the last one. I have spend two birthdays, two 4th of Julys, two thanksgivings, two christmases, and two New Years here.
It is funny to look back at the things in Kenya that annoyed or baffled me that I now have accepted:
-I always used to ask the teachers how they could stand to be in the loud matatus and didn't understand how they could actually PREFER them. Now, I am secretly disappointed when I step into a quiet matatu. Who wouldn't want to hear Celine Dion or UB40 for 3 hours?
-They eyebrow lift (meaning 'yes') and active listening grunt have become my go-to form of communication.
-I am ecstatic when a meeting only starts 2 hours late.
-I am a little offended if a teacher walked into the staff room and doesn't greet me.
-I feel ok picking my nose (though not as integrated, in that regard, as some PCVs)
-No tissue, no problem
-It is now just a delightful surprise to get my own matatu seat or to find a working seatbelt.
-I pass babies and bags of fruits through a matatu like it's my job.
-I bargain my little heart out when I am being ripped off.
-I wash my shoes.
-I say things like 'I am just used' and 'she really tried'.
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Saturday, June 26, 2010
Not the fastest gazelle
It is 5:30 in the morning when we pull in to the main gate of the Lewa Wildlife Conservancy. At first, it seems like there is no one awake except for the bright full moon that lights up the trees and a sleepy KWS guard. However, as we start driving through the park, I see groups among groups of people walking in the shadows of the moonlight. I have never seen anything like this. Children are running, teenagers are rolling by in their slow pace, even mamas are walking with sleeping babies on their backs. This is my welcome to the Lewa marathon.
When the sun peeked its rays in the sky, a herd of little Kenyans ran by: some sneakers, many croc-type shoes, and even more completely barefoot. All proudly wearing their runners shirts. As people start to swarm the start line, I am dealing with my own self-consciousness of my body. In almost two years here, no one has seen my legs above the knee (except for that one unfortunate incident of a wrap-around skirt and wind relationship gone wrong). I am not normally scared to show my legs, but it has been almost TWO years. It feels weird, out of place, wrong at first. When I look around, I realize that everyone is practically dressed for a marathon; all cultural dress codes are forgotten.
The children line up at the start line for their 5K race, as we all wait patiently or impatiently for the helicopters to give the clearance. Sorry mom and dad, I didn't think the helicopters were for the animals, but apparently they were. I guess they are checking for hungry lions. As I wait, I engage in my long-loved pastime of people watching. It hits me that many of the Kenyan runners, some of the best, are dressed simply. Simple shoes, simple clothing, no ipod, no camelback, and no specially formulated gels. The foreigners tended to be the groups carrying all of that gear. It is obvious, but a good reminder, that the equipment does not make the runner. You can look at someone without all of the gadgets and just know that they run; it's in their face and in their body. When I return to the states, I may also return to my camelback, my ipod, and my shot blocks. Even so, I cannot help but think that all of this is unnecessary, that it may take away from the act of running itself.
When the children have set off, leaving a path of dust, it is our turn to line up. There is the usual chatter amongst nervous runners: 'you ready for this?', 'I don't really know why I'm here', 'Did I train enough?', 'where did you put that extra Gu?'. The gun goes off and there is a moments hesitation before we create our own dust trail. There is so much dust that when I swallow I can feel it lining my mouth and my black shorts quickly turn brown. I try to stay off the dirt road, preferring to dodge elephant poop and ankle-twisting rocks instead. It is as I start my first major assent, a few kilometers in, that I spot my first animal life; gazelles. All I can think of is that they are one hell of a form of inspiration. They bound around, either completely oblivious to us, or confused as to why there are a bunch of overly colourful animals on their turf. I meet a few people on the way, some who pace me, and some who I pace. None of them compares to my usual running partner; wish you were running with me and the gazelles too dad! A few hills later I hear something rustle, and a snort of sorts to my right. Not 30 feet away stands a magnificent zebra. I have been right close to them in a car, but it just cannot compare. They are so much bigger in person.
I walked. I am not the fastest gazelle. Normally, I hate the idea of walking during a run. I tell myself that I will not, and then I don't. It is hard to be upset, though, when I have the scenery that I do. I just want to take it all in. Instead of crowds of spectators throughout the race we have helicopters who watch the people and the lions, and pick up a collapsed runner here and there. Towards the end of the race I am lapped by the first marathon runner; a serious Kenyan professional runner (the half marathon is once around a loop in the conservancy, the full is twice, giving some of us a chance to be lapped). It was incredible to see this man run so effortlessly and I couldn't help but be proud that I was very close to the end of my half when he passed me, instead of kilometer 10. I am welcomed by a fairly silent but surprisingly large finish line crowd, with just a few people locating the number pinned to my shirt and shouting 'go 164'. So what if I am not the fastest gazelle? I'm not the slowest either.
When the sun peeked its rays in the sky, a herd of little Kenyans ran by: some sneakers, many croc-type shoes, and even more completely barefoot. All proudly wearing their runners shirts. As people start to swarm the start line, I am dealing with my own self-consciousness of my body. In almost two years here, no one has seen my legs above the knee (except for that one unfortunate incident of a wrap-around skirt and wind relationship gone wrong). I am not normally scared to show my legs, but it has been almost TWO years. It feels weird, out of place, wrong at first. When I look around, I realize that everyone is practically dressed for a marathon; all cultural dress codes are forgotten.
The children line up at the start line for their 5K race, as we all wait patiently or impatiently for the helicopters to give the clearance. Sorry mom and dad, I didn't think the helicopters were for the animals, but apparently they were. I guess they are checking for hungry lions. As I wait, I engage in my long-loved pastime of people watching. It hits me that many of the Kenyan runners, some of the best, are dressed simply. Simple shoes, simple clothing, no ipod, no camelback, and no specially formulated gels. The foreigners tended to be the groups carrying all of that gear. It is obvious, but a good reminder, that the equipment does not make the runner. You can look at someone without all of the gadgets and just know that they run; it's in their face and in their body. When I return to the states, I may also return to my camelback, my ipod, and my shot blocks. Even so, I cannot help but think that all of this is unnecessary, that it may take away from the act of running itself.
When the children have set off, leaving a path of dust, it is our turn to line up. There is the usual chatter amongst nervous runners: 'you ready for this?', 'I don't really know why I'm here', 'Did I train enough?', 'where did you put that extra Gu?'. The gun goes off and there is a moments hesitation before we create our own dust trail. There is so much dust that when I swallow I can feel it lining my mouth and my black shorts quickly turn brown. I try to stay off the dirt road, preferring to dodge elephant poop and ankle-twisting rocks instead. It is as I start my first major assent, a few kilometers in, that I spot my first animal life; gazelles. All I can think of is that they are one hell of a form of inspiration. They bound around, either completely oblivious to us, or confused as to why there are a bunch of overly colourful animals on their turf. I meet a few people on the way, some who pace me, and some who I pace. None of them compares to my usual running partner; wish you were running with me and the gazelles too dad! A few hills later I hear something rustle, and a snort of sorts to my right. Not 30 feet away stands a magnificent zebra. I have been right close to them in a car, but it just cannot compare. They are so much bigger in person.
I walked. I am not the fastest gazelle. Normally, I hate the idea of walking during a run. I tell myself that I will not, and then I don't. It is hard to be upset, though, when I have the scenery that I do. I just want to take it all in. Instead of crowds of spectators throughout the race we have helicopters who watch the people and the lions, and pick up a collapsed runner here and there. Towards the end of the race I am lapped by the first marathon runner; a serious Kenyan professional runner (the half marathon is once around a loop in the conservancy, the full is twice, giving some of us a chance to be lapped). It was incredible to see this man run so effortlessly and I couldn't help but be proud that I was very close to the end of my half when he passed me, instead of kilometer 10. I am welcomed by a fairly silent but surprisingly large finish line crowd, with just a few people locating the number pinned to my shirt and shouting 'go 164'. So what if I am not the fastest gazelle? I'm not the slowest either.
Friday, June 11, 2010
Matatu perspective
I do not usually love sitting in a matatu waiting for it to fill. Lately, however, I have been soaking these moments up. If I sit in a place where I am just a little hidden, it provides an opportunity for serious people watching. There are too many interactions occurring simultaneously to take it all in: touts calling to potential customers and trying to not-so-gently nudge them into their matatu; mamas holding bananas up to more potential customers in matatus; young men selling biscuits, lollipops, sodas, and gum; wazee hobbling with canes, umbrellas, or sticks for support; old mamas carrying bags heavier than they on their backs permanently bent over from carrying such bags through a lifetime; Somali-descendant mamas selling perfumes; street boys with old rum bottles filled with glue stuck to their lips, getting high while bouncing around to ask for food and money; touts wrestling in their joking manner; secondary students, with their uniforms in various forms of disarray, coming from or going to school. It is all too easy to walk through the stage an ignore all of these, but waiting in a matatu forces me to slow down a little and take it in.
I do usually love the children in Kenya, but on a bad day when the 'mzungu mzungu mzungu' is ringing through my head it can be frustrating. The secondary school shares grounds with a primary school of about 150 students. They LOVE to say 'mzungu' and LOVE to do what I think is their impressions of us speaking. It isn't English, Kiswahili, or Kimeru. It is a made up language that sounds something like what they do when they imitate kung-fu movies. I have been meaning to go to the primary to greet them and introduce myself during their assembly. I also planned to tell them that I really hate being called 'mzungu' and it is bad manners to shout their made up language at me., especially while I am teaching. After being here for 3 months it was far overdue. The words I wanted to say had been spinning through my head during every morning run. At their assembly I sat through all of the normal procedures (hymns, prayer, and words from the teacher on duty) before it was my turn. It struck me that all of the teachers spoke to the students in English. The younger students don't know English! When it was my turn I started with a 'hamjambo'. They looked at me with those wide eyes, like I was a recently landed alien. Regardless, I continued in the best kiswahili I could muster. When it came to asking them not to imitate me, I was stuck. I am not sure how to explain the made up language in English, much less kiswahili, and my efforts did not prove successful. It came down to some instant serious thought of 'am I going to imitate them mimicking me'. What choice did I have? At least I made them laugh so early in the morning. My success was tested the next day when I walked passed the primary students coming to school on my way to the staff room. Would they 'mzungu' me? Would they do the weird language? Low and behold, they did neither! They ran past me yelling 'teacher Rose, teacher Rose' with big smiles on their faces and hands waving franticly. Kenya has made me realize again and again that you cannot always expect people to know what bothers you. If no one has ever told these children that 'mzungu' isn't really appropriate, but it is all that they know, how can I expect them to act any differently?
I do usually love the children in Kenya, but on a bad day when the 'mzungu mzungu mzungu' is ringing through my head it can be frustrating. The secondary school shares grounds with a primary school of about 150 students. They LOVE to say 'mzungu' and LOVE to do what I think is their impressions of us speaking. It isn't English, Kiswahili, or Kimeru. It is a made up language that sounds something like what they do when they imitate kung-fu movies. I have been meaning to go to the primary to greet them and introduce myself during their assembly. I also planned to tell them that I really hate being called 'mzungu' and it is bad manners to shout their made up language at me., especially while I am teaching. After being here for 3 months it was far overdue. The words I wanted to say had been spinning through my head during every morning run. At their assembly I sat through all of the normal procedures (hymns, prayer, and words from the teacher on duty) before it was my turn. It struck me that all of the teachers spoke to the students in English. The younger students don't know English! When it was my turn I started with a 'hamjambo'. They looked at me with those wide eyes, like I was a recently landed alien. Regardless, I continued in the best kiswahili I could muster. When it came to asking them not to imitate me, I was stuck. I am not sure how to explain the made up language in English, much less kiswahili, and my efforts did not prove successful. It came down to some instant serious thought of 'am I going to imitate them mimicking me'. What choice did I have? At least I made them laugh so early in the morning. My success was tested the next day when I walked passed the primary students coming to school on my way to the staff room. Would they 'mzungu' me? Would they do the weird language? Low and behold, they did neither! They ran past me yelling 'teacher Rose, teacher Rose' with big smiles on their faces and hands waving franticly. Kenya has made me realize again and again that you cannot always expect people to know what bothers you. If no one has ever told these children that 'mzungu' isn't really appropriate, but it is all that they know, how can I expect them to act any differently?
Saturday, May 29, 2010
Soles of my shoes
'You pass through places, and places pass through you. But you carry them with you on the soles of your traveling shoes'
I found this amongst the many words of a letter from a friend as I was looking back on old letters and it has been sticking with me. It isn't that I ignored it the first time I read it, but it holds a deeper meaning to me now that I am starting to reflect on my time in Kenya. Yes, I have 7 months left, but time is flying. I often wonder what I will remember the most clearly, or what will stick out the most about Kenya after I return home.
One of the teachers recently asked me what I thought about Kenya (or Africa) before I jumped my feet off of the plane. I am so often asked 'how do you see Kenya', but am hardly ever asked what I thought before I came here. His question was a healthy reminder. After being here for a year and a half, I can forget that at home we only receive highly negative images about the state of Africa. I am not proud of it, but if I don't grab the paper at the right time when another teacher isn't reading it, I can go weeks without even knowing what is going on in the bigger world around me. While it leads me to ignorance about the world, it allows me to focus just on what I feel about the place that I am in. The times I do get my hands on the paper, or discuss the current status of Kenya or Africa with others, may confirm the images that appear at home: there is corruption; HIV is prevalent; there are many families drowning in poverty; in select countries there is danger and violence. But not everything is included in that big picture. It doesn't show the families who, while they may not be rich, are comfortable. It doesn't show the people living their lives and feeling content. It doesn't show the smiles and generosity of the market mamas. If you sat at home and learned about Africa through the images being thrown at you from the TV, you would never know how hard some students are working to bring themselves to a better situation. You wouldn't see that people are happy. Not all, but are all of us happy in the US?
Another false impression I had was that people would be more in touch with nature. In many ways they are. Students can tell me which plants are a good substitute for a toothbrush, which plants treat certain ailments, and can definitely show me up when using a jembe or panga. So sometimes the nature disconnect takes me by surprise. As I was walking from the school kitchen to my house the other day, a student was patiently waiting for me under the shade of a tree. She looked a little flustered. "Teacher, there is something that looks like a bird in my locker. I am fearing, and the others won't help me". She was flustered, and she did have a baby bird in her locker. I had the audience of two different classes huddled around me to watch me take it out. Walking back to my house, bird in hand, I couldn't keep my laughter in. I've never heard of anyone fearing a baby bird and not knowing what it is. Looking at it, I understand. Its mouth is WAY to big for its head, but it is very clearly still a bird.
I have recently discovered another cultural tick that I love. When older people are happy to say hello to friends, they do not just wave, but raise their hands towards the heavens and give them a little shake. I think I'll bring this one home with me...
I found this amongst the many words of a letter from a friend as I was looking back on old letters and it has been sticking with me. It isn't that I ignored it the first time I read it, but it holds a deeper meaning to me now that I am starting to reflect on my time in Kenya. Yes, I have 7 months left, but time is flying. I often wonder what I will remember the most clearly, or what will stick out the most about Kenya after I return home.
One of the teachers recently asked me what I thought about Kenya (or Africa) before I jumped my feet off of the plane. I am so often asked 'how do you see Kenya', but am hardly ever asked what I thought before I came here. His question was a healthy reminder. After being here for a year and a half, I can forget that at home we only receive highly negative images about the state of Africa. I am not proud of it, but if I don't grab the paper at the right time when another teacher isn't reading it, I can go weeks without even knowing what is going on in the bigger world around me. While it leads me to ignorance about the world, it allows me to focus just on what I feel about the place that I am in. The times I do get my hands on the paper, or discuss the current status of Kenya or Africa with others, may confirm the images that appear at home: there is corruption; HIV is prevalent; there are many families drowning in poverty; in select countries there is danger and violence. But not everything is included in that big picture. It doesn't show the families who, while they may not be rich, are comfortable. It doesn't show the people living their lives and feeling content. It doesn't show the smiles and generosity of the market mamas. If you sat at home and learned about Africa through the images being thrown at you from the TV, you would never know how hard some students are working to bring themselves to a better situation. You wouldn't see that people are happy. Not all, but are all of us happy in the US?
Another false impression I had was that people would be more in touch with nature. In many ways they are. Students can tell me which plants are a good substitute for a toothbrush, which plants treat certain ailments, and can definitely show me up when using a jembe or panga. So sometimes the nature disconnect takes me by surprise. As I was walking from the school kitchen to my house the other day, a student was patiently waiting for me under the shade of a tree. She looked a little flustered. "Teacher, there is something that looks like a bird in my locker. I am fearing, and the others won't help me". She was flustered, and she did have a baby bird in her locker. I had the audience of two different classes huddled around me to watch me take it out. Walking back to my house, bird in hand, I couldn't keep my laughter in. I've never heard of anyone fearing a baby bird and not knowing what it is. Looking at it, I understand. Its mouth is WAY to big for its head, but it is very clearly still a bird.
I have recently discovered another cultural tick that I love. When older people are happy to say hello to friends, they do not just wave, but raise their hands towards the heavens and give them a little shake. I think I'll bring this one home with me...
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Mango under candlelight
Mango season is coming to an end. A season for new fruits is surely taking its place, but mango season is my favorite and I'm sad to see it pass. Every time I travel to a new place in Kenya, including Mugona, I discover a different type of mango. Outside of my door is a mango tree that produces mangos smaller than your palm. They are yellow inside, juicy and extremely fibrous. These are not a 'first date' appropriate mango, or one you would want to eat on the way out the door. No matter how dainty you try to be (and lets face it, I should not even try), bunches of mango fibers will always lodge themselves in your front teeth. It is better just to embrace the mango mouth. The mangos I buy in the market are bigger than grapefruits, orange on the inside, and by far my favorite. I can only find them in Chuka town. With the move, I now live a 20-30 minute walk from the main road, then a 15 minute matatu ride to chuka. It has taken some adjustment to learn how much food to buy to last a week, and how much I can carry. I've learned my lesson with mangos: when the market mamas told me they were going out of season I freaked and bought 10 of the biggest I could find. It was quite the workout to walk up the road to my house, but completely worth it.
The first few nights in Mugona were accompanied by electricity from a generator, but it has been on and off (mostly off) since then. I have not grown out of the excitement I used to get when the power went out during storms at home. I happily light my candle and read with a mug full of hot chocolate. It would be far more efficient to buy a lantern, but I am too stubborn in my ways.
When I first came to kenya my one request for site placement was to be in a place where I can grow my own food. Namanga was a lot of things, but a place to garden was not one of them. I feel like I've been given a second chance. So far I've started tomato, kale, and spinach plants, accompanied by two mango trees. I have learned that I am an impatient gardener, or maybe I was just too excited. The day after hiding the seeds in the soil I kept looking outside to note their progress. There wasn't any, of course. The day I saw them reaching their little arms up to the sky for the first time, I couldn't help but smile to myself. There is something so rewarding in seeing your garden grow.
The first few nights in Mugona were accompanied by electricity from a generator, but it has been on and off (mostly off) since then. I have not grown out of the excitement I used to get when the power went out during storms at home. I happily light my candle and read with a mug full of hot chocolate. It would be far more efficient to buy a lantern, but I am too stubborn in my ways.
When I first came to kenya my one request for site placement was to be in a place where I can grow my own food. Namanga was a lot of things, but a place to garden was not one of them. I feel like I've been given a second chance. So far I've started tomato, kale, and spinach plants, accompanied by two mango trees. I have learned that I am an impatient gardener, or maybe I was just too excited. The day after hiding the seeds in the soil I kept looking outside to note their progress. There wasn't any, of course. The day I saw them reaching their little arms up to the sky for the first time, I couldn't help but smile to myself. There is something so rewarding in seeing your garden grow.
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Mzungu anakimbia
I woke up this morning with the determination to start a new running routine. It was short, but otherwise perfect. At 6:30 in the morning the moon was still out, while most people were still in. I ran by fields of coffee, maize, and bananas. My plan was to run the short loop twice, but the mud had other ideas. When it rains the mud forms a sticky goo that attaches to your shoes until your feet feel too heavy to move. When I got back to school the student I had said good morning to on my way out told me 'that was TOO short!' Tomorrow she will show me the long way. I am ready. I got back home just in time. Mugona is enveloped in a thick chilly cloud, bringing more rain. There are rumblings of thunder in the distance.
I finally broke down and purchased a computer. I went back and forth countless times. I like my life here; it is simple. The only possession really have to think about is my camera. I don't have a TV or radio, although I do treat myself to an ipod dance party every now and then. I didn't want the access to a computer to change my nightly reading and journal writing routine. It is all in my control, but it is just so easy to find yourself engrossed in CNN or home life. As it turns out, the lack of electricity and only 3 hours of generator time per day adds a little assurance that I can only waste so much time. My decision came down to my affectiveness in my new home as a volunteer. I am able to research methods for lesson planning, how to make a barometer from simple materials, information on FGM, ideas for building a bakery for the school, and sponsorship opportunities for the students. I laughed to myself yesterday while typing up the activities I've done in class for biology, because I had no water and no electircity, but I could check my e-mail!
A few days ago I was riding in a party matatu and watching music videos; some from kenya, some from the states. It was about a 1 1/2 hour ride. A half an hour in, I was so absorbed in the music videos (its been a while) that when I looked out the window it hit me like a slap in the face (a good slap) that I'm in Kenya, riding through giant hills of terraced tea farm country.
My definition of a party matatu: A 15 passenger van that in kenya can be stuffed to 29 people (the highest number I've experienced) with loud music and a TV for passenger enjoyment.
I finally broke down and purchased a computer. I went back and forth countless times. I like my life here; it is simple. The only possession really have to think about is my camera. I don't have a TV or radio, although I do treat myself to an ipod dance party every now and then. I didn't want the access to a computer to change my nightly reading and journal writing routine. It is all in my control, but it is just so easy to find yourself engrossed in CNN or home life. As it turns out, the lack of electricity and only 3 hours of generator time per day adds a little assurance that I can only waste so much time. My decision came down to my affectiveness in my new home as a volunteer. I am able to research methods for lesson planning, how to make a barometer from simple materials, information on FGM, ideas for building a bakery for the school, and sponsorship opportunities for the students. I laughed to myself yesterday while typing up the activities I've done in class for biology, because I had no water and no electircity, but I could check my e-mail!
A few days ago I was riding in a party matatu and watching music videos; some from kenya, some from the states. It was about a 1 1/2 hour ride. A half an hour in, I was so absorbed in the music videos (its been a while) that when I looked out the window it hit me like a slap in the face (a good slap) that I'm in Kenya, riding through giant hills of terraced tea farm country.
My definition of a party matatu: A 15 passenger van that in kenya can be stuffed to 29 people (the highest number I've experienced) with loud music and a TV for passenger enjoyment.
Thursday, February 25, 2010
A bell rings, and minutes later I hear girls singing to fill the empty, chilly air. There are no children crying or roosters crowing. I can hear nothing but the singing. It is 5:30am and pitch black. It takes a minute until it dawns on me that I'm not in Namanga anymore. I make my way out of bed when I hear someone's footsteps crunching on the stone pathway to my door. I take my delivered bucket of steaming hot water and get ready for my bucket bath. After bathing, I am brought a thermos of the milk taken from the school's cows the night before. This is my new life, and I love it.
Namanga will always be a part of me: the duka owners, market mamas, and the in-your-face mountains. I will never forget the students and how much they meant to me in my year there. I will never forget their attempts to teach me their mother tongue(s) and how they welcomed me into their lives without question. I will never forget my little neighbors, Eric and Sandra, who had just learned to call me Rose instead of mzungu. I won't forget my last night in Namanga, taking goofy pictures with the families in my compound, and eating dinner at my neighbor Victoria's house, wondering why we hadn't made dinners together earlier. As much as I was sad to go, my only regret is not being able to say my goodbyes...and never making it to the rock face that I woke up to every morning.
It has taken a lot of energy to start over, but I am excited. My new life presents me with challenges different from those I found in Namanga, but behind those challenges are opportunities: I'm not teaching many classes, so I might as well try to start a bakery, milk cows, organize the library, and figure out what to do with all of the water pouring from the tank; my new school canes the students, which allows me to continue the discussion on alternative to corporal punishment (while concurrently coping with the actual caning). On the ride to Mitheru, the matatu stop to my new town, I realized how much Kenya has changed me. On my first trip to Namanga I was excorted by the principal, nervous about everything, and maybe just a little bit teary! This time, I caught my own matatu to Mitheru, made a friend along the way, and enjoyed the lush, green, curvy ride. I wasn't worried about the driver forgetting to stop in Mitheru, or how I would get from Mitheru to my new school in Mugona...things just work their way out.
Namanga will always be a part of me: the duka owners, market mamas, and the in-your-face mountains. I will never forget the students and how much they meant to me in my year there. I will never forget their attempts to teach me their mother tongue(s) and how they welcomed me into their lives without question. I will never forget my little neighbors, Eric and Sandra, who had just learned to call me Rose instead of mzungu. I won't forget my last night in Namanga, taking goofy pictures with the families in my compound, and eating dinner at my neighbor Victoria's house, wondering why we hadn't made dinners together earlier. As much as I was sad to go, my only regret is not being able to say my goodbyes...and never making it to the rock face that I woke up to every morning.
It has taken a lot of energy to start over, but I am excited. My new life presents me with challenges different from those I found in Namanga, but behind those challenges are opportunities: I'm not teaching many classes, so I might as well try to start a bakery, milk cows, organize the library, and figure out what to do with all of the water pouring from the tank; my new school canes the students, which allows me to continue the discussion on alternative to corporal punishment (while concurrently coping with the actual caning). On the ride to Mitheru, the matatu stop to my new town, I realized how much Kenya has changed me. On my first trip to Namanga I was excorted by the principal, nervous about everything, and maybe just a little bit teary! This time, I caught my own matatu to Mitheru, made a friend along the way, and enjoyed the lush, green, curvy ride. I wasn't worried about the driver forgetting to stop in Mitheru, or how I would get from Mitheru to my new school in Mugona...things just work their way out.
Monday, January 18, 2010
A Choo is Like a Bicycle
After more than a month away, I am finally back in Namanga. While looking out the window on my matatu ride home, a few questions consumed my thoughts: Will I remember how to use/aim in the choo? How bad will the spiders be in my house? Have the termites taken over? Will Namanga be green or brown? How will I feel when I get there?
In just a few hours at site I had my answers. A choo is like a bicycle; you just don't forget. The spiders were awful and big, including one solpugid (I think)...I don't want to think about any live ones. My house is still standing, but I'm crossing my fingers that the termites will let my bed stand for one more year. Namanga is GREEN! I am happy and excited to be back. When I got out of the matatu, the taxi guys recognized me and one drove me home. It is comforting that after being gone for a month I can return and be recognized as a teacher, not a tourist. I got big smiles from everyone in my compound, especially the kids. Eric (my 2 year old neighbor) still calls me mzungu, but still makes me laugh. As I was filling up my water buckets I watched him strut across the compound in my neighbors heels. I am happy to know that it isn't just my shoes that he steals. I danced around my house to my neighbor's music as I cleaned. When I looked outside I saw that Robbie, Shiko, and Sandra were doing their own dances. I smiled an sighed...I'm home.
In just a few hours at site I had my answers. A choo is like a bicycle; you just don't forget. The spiders were awful and big, including one solpugid (I think)...I don't want to think about any live ones. My house is still standing, but I'm crossing my fingers that the termites will let my bed stand for one more year. Namanga is GREEN! I am happy and excited to be back. When I got out of the matatu, the taxi guys recognized me and one drove me home. It is comforting that after being gone for a month I can return and be recognized as a teacher, not a tourist. I got big smiles from everyone in my compound, especially the kids. Eric (my 2 year old neighbor) still calls me mzungu, but still makes me laugh. As I was filling up my water buckets I watched him strut across the compound in my neighbors heels. I am happy to know that it isn't just my shoes that he steals. I danced around my house to my neighbor's music as I cleaned. When I looked outside I saw that Robbie, Shiko, and Sandra were doing their own dances. I smiled an sighed...I'm home.
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
Mwaka mpya
With the new year came my year as a PCV in Kenya mark, a whole load of reflection, a really bad sunburn, and maybe some new years resolutions (but there is always time to make those later). As I write this (to be typed when I have internet) I'm in nairobi, snuggled under 2 wool blankets, and sporting a long-sleeved shirt as well as a head lamp. There is question about my ability to survive the Vermont cold when I return next winter...it may kill me.
I have been away from my site for a month, and am in the process of re-energizing myself to return. Looking back on the month of December, I feel like not a moment was wasted. My family flew in for a two week visit on the first. After a day with Sammy (best taxi driver) in Nairobi we trucked down to my site. Now that they have all returned home, I am curious about their reflections on the town that I now call home. Along with the family came a soccer ball for the kids on my compound. I thought I had seen the peak of their excitement when they discovered my jump rope; I was wrong. I have never seen someone's face light up as much as Douglas' did (the oldest kid in the compound) when we gave him the ball. It was clear that they kids had never seen so many wazungu at once, except maybe in tourist cars destined for Amboseli. There were mixed reviews. Most kids were curious, some were excited, one just started bawling...
From Namanga we went to Watamu, a town on the coast. Watamu has a lot of tourists, but it also has a lot of beach. We stayed at a place that is traditionally for people doing reserach on the marine reserve. Because it was on a reserve, we essentially had the beach to ourselves, day and night. I have MISSED the ocean. Walking up the beach about a mile led us to Turtle Bay Resort. I'm not sure what to say about that place. I think I prefer my empty beach, even though we didn't get drinks served to us on the beach and our shower didn't work. The ocean cleans you off, right?
After Watamu we went back to Nairobi so I could see my family off as they flew back to VT. Saying goodbye was hard (little did I know they actually spent the night on the Nairobi airport floor), but I can't put into words how much it meant to me that they came. I didn't have the emotional crash that I expected after they left. It may have helped that another PCV came armed and prepared with milk and cookies for me post-departure. Or maybe it is just that I"m really happy about the experience I am having. Or maybe I"m just kidding myself and it will hit me later.
The day after the family left I went to loitoktok to work at the training for the new education volunteers. I forgot how beautiful Kilimanjaro is in the early mornings. It may just be the definition of breathtaking. After having spent 2 months in loitoktok for my own karibu kenya training, it is a lot of fun to come back. I love walking through the market and feeling completely comfortable, going back to the hoteli where we spent every afternoon playing cards and drinking chai, and chatting with my mama. I visited my host family in August, but this time I got to see my two host brothers who were still at school before. I was so happy to see them again, with big smiles on their faces! I went 'home' for lunch one day, and because my mama was at work, my host brothers cooked food for me. Their family is pretty amazing.
Following training was my second vacation of the month, and my second kenyan coast visit. It was my first experience in an air conditioned hotel room in Kenya, which made me laugh as I thought about how my family crowded into an ATM booth for the AC. After a long bus ride up the coast to another PCV's site near Lamu I fully savoured the milkshakes that I've heard so much about. Christmas was simple, but not so simple that there weren't pancakes AND maple syrup involved. The land surrounding Namanga is beautiful, but the coast is a whole different kind of beautiful. And it has coconuts. New years was spend on the island of Lamu. Lamu is very touristy, but I have no idea where all of the tourists went around midnight. There were drums, music, and acrobatic competitions on the street (all kenyan), but were were some of the only wazungu I could see. It made me really wish that drums were played in Namanga. The giant moon shining over the indian ocean on new years eve sealed the night for me.
It has been 3 years since my snorkling days in Hawaii, but finally I got to return to a mask, snorkle, and fins. On new years day we took a two hour dhow ride to a reef, where we got to jump in and explore for two hours. Have I mentioned that I miss the ocean? It was surprising to me that so many of the fish were the same or similar to those in hawaii. And not surprising to me that I spend most of the time challenging myself to remember their names. Apparently I also forgot how white I am, but four days later I still have a hefty reminder...sunburn. I cannot imagine having a more painful two day bus ride back to Nairobi.
That brings me to where I am now, with my two wool blankets, long sleeved shirt, and head lamp, thinking about what I want to do to make this year different. The beauty of PC, especially for teachers, is that it is two years. I already know what I liked and didn't like about last year. I'm working on putting those feelings into concrete ideas (yes, I just talked about feelings) and creating some goal for myself. I guess I'm back to the list-making that my parents love to make fun of me about!
I'm sending good vibes from Kenya for a creative, adventurous, and lively 2010 in the states, and I can now say I'll see you (or talk to you on a US cell phone) in a year!
I have been away from my site for a month, and am in the process of re-energizing myself to return. Looking back on the month of December, I feel like not a moment was wasted. My family flew in for a two week visit on the first. After a day with Sammy (best taxi driver) in Nairobi we trucked down to my site. Now that they have all returned home, I am curious about their reflections on the town that I now call home. Along with the family came a soccer ball for the kids on my compound. I thought I had seen the peak of their excitement when they discovered my jump rope; I was wrong. I have never seen someone's face light up as much as Douglas' did (the oldest kid in the compound) when we gave him the ball. It was clear that they kids had never seen so many wazungu at once, except maybe in tourist cars destined for Amboseli. There were mixed reviews. Most kids were curious, some were excited, one just started bawling...
From Namanga we went to Watamu, a town on the coast. Watamu has a lot of tourists, but it also has a lot of beach. We stayed at a place that is traditionally for people doing reserach on the marine reserve. Because it was on a reserve, we essentially had the beach to ourselves, day and night. I have MISSED the ocean. Walking up the beach about a mile led us to Turtle Bay Resort. I'm not sure what to say about that place. I think I prefer my empty beach, even though we didn't get drinks served to us on the beach and our shower didn't work. The ocean cleans you off, right?
After Watamu we went back to Nairobi so I could see my family off as they flew back to VT. Saying goodbye was hard (little did I know they actually spent the night on the Nairobi airport floor), but I can't put into words how much it meant to me that they came. I didn't have the emotional crash that I expected after they left. It may have helped that another PCV came armed and prepared with milk and cookies for me post-departure. Or maybe it is just that I"m really happy about the experience I am having. Or maybe I"m just kidding myself and it will hit me later.
The day after the family left I went to loitoktok to work at the training for the new education volunteers. I forgot how beautiful Kilimanjaro is in the early mornings. It may just be the definition of breathtaking. After having spent 2 months in loitoktok for my own karibu kenya training, it is a lot of fun to come back. I love walking through the market and feeling completely comfortable, going back to the hoteli where we spent every afternoon playing cards and drinking chai, and chatting with my mama. I visited my host family in August, but this time I got to see my two host brothers who were still at school before. I was so happy to see them again, with big smiles on their faces! I went 'home' for lunch one day, and because my mama was at work, my host brothers cooked food for me. Their family is pretty amazing.
Following training was my second vacation of the month, and my second kenyan coast visit. It was my first experience in an air conditioned hotel room in Kenya, which made me laugh as I thought about how my family crowded into an ATM booth for the AC. After a long bus ride up the coast to another PCV's site near Lamu I fully savoured the milkshakes that I've heard so much about. Christmas was simple, but not so simple that there weren't pancakes AND maple syrup involved. The land surrounding Namanga is beautiful, but the coast is a whole different kind of beautiful. And it has coconuts. New years was spend on the island of Lamu. Lamu is very touristy, but I have no idea where all of the tourists went around midnight. There were drums, music, and acrobatic competitions on the street (all kenyan), but were were some of the only wazungu I could see. It made me really wish that drums were played in Namanga. The giant moon shining over the indian ocean on new years eve sealed the night for me.
It has been 3 years since my snorkling days in Hawaii, but finally I got to return to a mask, snorkle, and fins. On new years day we took a two hour dhow ride to a reef, where we got to jump in and explore for two hours. Have I mentioned that I miss the ocean? It was surprising to me that so many of the fish were the same or similar to those in hawaii. And not surprising to me that I spend most of the time challenging myself to remember their names. Apparently I also forgot how white I am, but four days later I still have a hefty reminder...sunburn. I cannot imagine having a more painful two day bus ride back to Nairobi.
That brings me to where I am now, with my two wool blankets, long sleeved shirt, and head lamp, thinking about what I want to do to make this year different. The beauty of PC, especially for teachers, is that it is two years. I already know what I liked and didn't like about last year. I'm working on putting those feelings into concrete ideas (yes, I just talked about feelings) and creating some goal for myself. I guess I'm back to the list-making that my parents love to make fun of me about!
I'm sending good vibes from Kenya for a creative, adventurous, and lively 2010 in the states, and I can now say I'll see you (or talk to you on a US cell phone) in a year!
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
There is grass in Namanga? Since when?
The rains have finally come. Thank you el Nino! On my way to school the other day one of the shops I walk by was playing the 'bless the rains down in Africa' song. I thought it was highly appropriate and started the day off well. When it rains too hard, it is impossible to teach because the classroom's have tin roofs without a ceiling. It is both frustrating and exciting. I love extreme weather. Not that a steady rainfall is extreme in normal circumstances, but in Namanga it is. We have not had a real rain since somewhere around February or April. Of course the skies decide to let loose right as the students in my Form 1 agriculture class are starting to give presentations on their assigned chicken breeds. It is hard to be frustrated when the students are smiling and jumping in their seats yelling over the sound of rain on the roof that now they will have milk! Something that I never would have thought of at home (mostly because Vermont usually has no lack of rain) but here, at the end of a 5 year drought, no rain means no milk. The biologist in me gets super excited to see how fast Namanga responds to rain. It seems like you can almost see the plants growing and the insect diversity has increased exponentially. The animal lover in me struggles every time I see a cow that is so skinny it looks like if I just touched it, it would collapse; and they are everywhere! If you pay attention in the matatu you can see dead ones decomposing on the side of the road. The home-maker in me is annoyed because my laundry will never get dry. The teacher in me is happy because now some of the Maasai students can return to Namanga after herding there cattle elsewhere in search of grass. The Carly in me smiles every time I get stuck outside in a rainstorm, even though the Mamas think I'm crazy.
My third term and first year is coming to an end. Like the two terms before it, this one was not without its challenges. With A LOT of encouragement from my parents I'm doing some serious practice in the art of being a duck. If you don't know what it means to 'be a duck', ask my dad. I think that I might be a duck expert by now. One of the many things I've realized in this whole experience (in case there was any doubt) is how much I love/need running. I can't really run here. I can, but now that my running partner moved away, it is an extra challenge to go. I love the kids, but if I'm running to relieve stress it doesn't help to have them yelling 'Mzungu, mzungu, mzungu' the entire time. In august I bought a jump rope to try to replace running. It will do for another year, but it certainly isn't the same. It turns out thought, that it also helped me make friends in my compound. I didn't even think about it when I bought it, but the kids that live near me LOVE to jump rope. They are getting pretty good. The other good thing is that I can do it before the sun comes up. I used to get lectured about my safety when running in Corvallis at 4:30am; to do that here would just be asking for trouble.
Lately, Ive had these weird realizations that when people look at me they are seeing an adult. When did that happen? Primary students have run to get me to break up a fight. My female students ask me questions about how to deal with boys, what to do if they think they are pregnant, and how to deal with their parents. Part of me feels like I'm entirely unqualified to be dishing out advice, mostly because I don't feel like an adult. The other day the matatu guys were trying to guess my age. They thought 19, still technically an adult, but barely.
I have almost hit the year mark from the day that I arrived in Kenya. It is crazy to think that a year has gone by since I woke up from spending my last night in my parents house and thought 'oh shit'. It is funny to look back on all of the little kenyan subtleties and things that i've learned. This past weekend I had a few moments of confirmation that I've adjusted. I took a student and her mom to the district hospital which is about an hour away. We were supposed to meet at the matatu stage at 8am. At 8:45 we were ready to go. When I first got to kenya I would have been thoroughly annoyed, but now I'm surprised when things are only 45 minutes late. We piled into the back of a matatu, 4 people where there should only be three. They kept piling people in every time we saw someone on the side of the road. Not only was I NOT bothered by the extra people, I found myself wishing for more. My logic may be completely off, but I figure that if we get in an accident, more people means more cushioning for everyone. I also realized that if I ever had to teach kenyan students about the tragedy of the commons, a matatu ride would be a great example. I walked into the hospital, and was pretty clearly the first white person they had seen there in a while. That may be an incorrect assumption, but the stares said "what is a mzungu doing here?' Instead of being bothered by the stares, I smiled and walked past them. On the way out of the hospital to catch a matatu home, the mom asked if we could stop at a town on the way to see her other daughter. When I first got to Kenya I would have hesitated: Would I have to eat meat? What if they ask me to pray? Do I have the energy to be the new 'mzungu' in town? Will I get home in time to get my work done? But this time there was no hesitation, and I was happy that I went. The matatue ride from Bissil to Namanga was even more classic. 5 people sitting where 3 should be, and it may have been possible for someone to get drunk off of the matatu tout's breath (at least it wasn't the driver). When I came home, the two little twin girls that live on my compound followed me into my house. I might want to take them home to Vermont with me (their mom offered, but I think she was kidding). They take their shoes off on my steps, wait for me to open the door, and then make themselves at home on my couch...this makes it all worth it.
My third term and first year is coming to an end. Like the two terms before it, this one was not without its challenges. With A LOT of encouragement from my parents I'm doing some serious practice in the art of being a duck. If you don't know what it means to 'be a duck', ask my dad. I think that I might be a duck expert by now. One of the many things I've realized in this whole experience (in case there was any doubt) is how much I love/need running. I can't really run here. I can, but now that my running partner moved away, it is an extra challenge to go. I love the kids, but if I'm running to relieve stress it doesn't help to have them yelling 'Mzungu, mzungu, mzungu' the entire time. In august I bought a jump rope to try to replace running. It will do for another year, but it certainly isn't the same. It turns out thought, that it also helped me make friends in my compound. I didn't even think about it when I bought it, but the kids that live near me LOVE to jump rope. They are getting pretty good. The other good thing is that I can do it before the sun comes up. I used to get lectured about my safety when running in Corvallis at 4:30am; to do that here would just be asking for trouble.
Lately, Ive had these weird realizations that when people look at me they are seeing an adult. When did that happen? Primary students have run to get me to break up a fight. My female students ask me questions about how to deal with boys, what to do if they think they are pregnant, and how to deal with their parents. Part of me feels like I'm entirely unqualified to be dishing out advice, mostly because I don't feel like an adult. The other day the matatu guys were trying to guess my age. They thought 19, still technically an adult, but barely.
I have almost hit the year mark from the day that I arrived in Kenya. It is crazy to think that a year has gone by since I woke up from spending my last night in my parents house and thought 'oh shit'. It is funny to look back on all of the little kenyan subtleties and things that i've learned. This past weekend I had a few moments of confirmation that I've adjusted. I took a student and her mom to the district hospital which is about an hour away. We were supposed to meet at the matatu stage at 8am. At 8:45 we were ready to go. When I first got to kenya I would have been thoroughly annoyed, but now I'm surprised when things are only 45 minutes late. We piled into the back of a matatu, 4 people where there should only be three. They kept piling people in every time we saw someone on the side of the road. Not only was I NOT bothered by the extra people, I found myself wishing for more. My logic may be completely off, but I figure that if we get in an accident, more people means more cushioning for everyone. I also realized that if I ever had to teach kenyan students about the tragedy of the commons, a matatu ride would be a great example. I walked into the hospital, and was pretty clearly the first white person they had seen there in a while. That may be an incorrect assumption, but the stares said "what is a mzungu doing here?' Instead of being bothered by the stares, I smiled and walked past them. On the way out of the hospital to catch a matatu home, the mom asked if we could stop at a town on the way to see her other daughter. When I first got to Kenya I would have hesitated: Would I have to eat meat? What if they ask me to pray? Do I have the energy to be the new 'mzungu' in town? Will I get home in time to get my work done? But this time there was no hesitation, and I was happy that I went. The matatue ride from Bissil to Namanga was even more classic. 5 people sitting where 3 should be, and it may have been possible for someone to get drunk off of the matatu tout's breath (at least it wasn't the driver). When I came home, the two little twin girls that live on my compound followed me into my house. I might want to take them home to Vermont with me (their mom offered, but I think she was kidding). They take their shoes off on my steps, wait for me to open the door, and then make themselves at home on my couch...this makes it all worth it.
Thursday, August 6, 2009
I just finished my 2nd term of teaching (only 4 more left) and am now able to take a few deep breaths. Last night I sat down and just realized that it was my last day of teaching for a month! I can't imagine how American teachers feel when they get to the start of their 3 month break. It is amazing how different the last three months have been compared to my first three months in namanga. For one, I'm now 24, which means taht I've become much more mature (right!). My Kenyan birthday was a little different than any American birthday that I've had: no one in Namanga knew; I spent the day proctoring mid-term exams; and my birthday present to myself was a papaya, yogurt, and a WARM bucket bath. It was amazing. I met up with a bunch of volunteers in Nairobi for the July 4th weekend. it was an odd combination of America and Kenya. America, because I was with more Americans than I had been around in a while, and there were sparklers. Kenya, because we had Ethiopian for lunch, and nyama choma (roast meat) and ugali (like really this cream of wheat) for dinner. It was also Kenyan because I didn't get to claim my spot near the cemetary for the Williston 4th of July parade, dance with the Jazzersizers, and race to catch the candy. I didn't let myself think about it too much, or I would have really missed home.
Many PCV's talk about how they have so much free time on their hands. Where did MY free time go? I don't have a radio, TV, or computer, but I haven't yet had the chance to be bored. My Kenyan co-workers are baffled at how I can keep myself busy on the weekends. Between writing letters home, drawing posters of biological structures, planning for the next week of school, cleaning my house/clothes/sheets/me, baking, and lots and lots of reading, I don't find time to feel bored. They also don't understand how I am not lonely. many kenyan women my age have already started their families. I try to explain that I'm not ready, that I can't even commit to a cat or houseplant, but I'm not sure that they get me. In Kenya, people don't tend to be along by choice. I cannot deny thinking about home at least once a day, but I wouldn't describe myself as homesick. It is more a way to keep my mind busy. I think A LOT about what I want to do when I return, how I wish taht I could see the babies that have been and will be born before I come back, and many many hours of retracing my corvallis marathon training steps to make up for only running once a week here.
Being a teacher with PC, as compared to other assignments, gives me the advantage of never having to question WHAT I am doing here. From day one, I knew where I would be on Monday through Saturday. I have had to ask myself whether or not I am really helping, if it is really effective for schools to have PCV's. If it is looked at strictly from an educational curriculum perspective, the answer is a definite No. The kenyan education system is very rigid about what facts, details, drawings, and practicals are taught. No one would know that more than a Kenyan who has been through the system. They take a national exam at the end of 4 years of secondary school. No one will understand the exam like a Kenyan. The fact that my school gets a science teacher virtually for free is for sure helpful, but at what educational cost to the students? They have to spend so much energy just tring to understand my english, and to sit patiently as I try to think of real life examples of they whey are learning in physics, biology, or chemistry that apply to their lives. For example, I was just eaching about liquid pressure in physics. I wanted to give them an example of where you can actually feel the pressure increase as you go deeper. The first thing that came to my mind was swimming. The problem was that most of the students had never seen a swimming pool, the ocean, or even a lake. It challenges me, which is what I was looking for in my experience. I know that I am learning, becoming more confident, and growing, but I want that for them too! The conclusion that I've come up with to make myself feel better, is that I'm not just here for the curriculum. All of the students are learning to work with and learn from someone from an entirely different culture. They have learned that there is poverty in America, though I'm pretty sure that they don't believe me. They are learning how to teach someone about their culture and language and food. They are still trying to figure out if Tupac really is dead.
The other day, as a tourist bus passed me on the tarmac I couldn't help but think of how different their image of Namanga is from mind. They see it flash by their eyes as they are zoning out to their ipod or look up from their book. Why are their heads always facing their laps? Don't they realize that the world is outside of the bus? It makes me appreciate that I am experiencing Kenya the way that I am. I am living in namanga on my own. Entirely on my own. I have joined a community by myself in a culture other than my own. I am actually experiencing namanga. As the tour bus rode by, I looked around to see what they would have seen as their entire image, or impression, of namanga; a snapshot. There was an mzee (old man) communicating using mostly his hands and arms, much like a bird taking off for flight, and a little unsteady on his feet. There were many wazee taking chai at Al Yassin (my favorite hoteli). The Masai mamas were at their stations, ready to swarm any bus that stops to sell their beadwork. The Somali men were relaxing outside of Baba Halima's shop. And many many lorrys were lined up at the tarmac. They don't get to see the warm smiles on the market mamas faces, or how beautiful the hills are when the sun is rising. They don't have to watch dogs mistreated or children hit. They man see children in dirty rags, but they don't see the full effect that poverty can have on ana entire culture or community. They don't see my students, who sometimes are so hungry they cannot concentrate, offer me half of their orange. They don't see how much they are affected by a lack of resources, but how much their faces still light up when I say 'good morning' or try to speak kiswahili (or kimasai or kisomali). Namanga is growing on me...
Some side notes:
-I got to pet a 2 week old camel
-I went to a nearby shamba (farm) with a friend to see the destruction caused by elephants. Banana and mango trees were knocked down and they ate all of the maze. They left the kale and spinach. I put my hand in one of their footprints...they are HUGE
-Lately the children on the compound have been halping me fill in my water buckets. They are under two, so by helping I mean they follow me from the outside tap into my house, again and again. They are pretty cute.
-Termites are taking over my house!
-Anytime and American visits me, I spend the next week explaining that they are not my brother or sister
Many PCV's talk about how they have so much free time on their hands. Where did MY free time go? I don't have a radio, TV, or computer, but I haven't yet had the chance to be bored. My Kenyan co-workers are baffled at how I can keep myself busy on the weekends. Between writing letters home, drawing posters of biological structures, planning for the next week of school, cleaning my house/clothes/sheets/me, baking, and lots and lots of reading, I don't find time to feel bored. They also don't understand how I am not lonely. many kenyan women my age have already started their families. I try to explain that I'm not ready, that I can't even commit to a cat or houseplant, but I'm not sure that they get me. In Kenya, people don't tend to be along by choice. I cannot deny thinking about home at least once a day, but I wouldn't describe myself as homesick. It is more a way to keep my mind busy. I think A LOT about what I want to do when I return, how I wish taht I could see the babies that have been and will be born before I come back, and many many hours of retracing my corvallis marathon training steps to make up for only running once a week here.
Being a teacher with PC, as compared to other assignments, gives me the advantage of never having to question WHAT I am doing here. From day one, I knew where I would be on Monday through Saturday. I have had to ask myself whether or not I am really helping, if it is really effective for schools to have PCV's. If it is looked at strictly from an educational curriculum perspective, the answer is a definite No. The kenyan education system is very rigid about what facts, details, drawings, and practicals are taught. No one would know that more than a Kenyan who has been through the system. They take a national exam at the end of 4 years of secondary school. No one will understand the exam like a Kenyan. The fact that my school gets a science teacher virtually for free is for sure helpful, but at what educational cost to the students? They have to spend so much energy just tring to understand my english, and to sit patiently as I try to think of real life examples of they whey are learning in physics, biology, or chemistry that apply to their lives. For example, I was just eaching about liquid pressure in physics. I wanted to give them an example of where you can actually feel the pressure increase as you go deeper. The first thing that came to my mind was swimming. The problem was that most of the students had never seen a swimming pool, the ocean, or even a lake. It challenges me, which is what I was looking for in my experience. I know that I am learning, becoming more confident, and growing, but I want that for them too! The conclusion that I've come up with to make myself feel better, is that I'm not just here for the curriculum. All of the students are learning to work with and learn from someone from an entirely different culture. They have learned that there is poverty in America, though I'm pretty sure that they don't believe me. They are learning how to teach someone about their culture and language and food. They are still trying to figure out if Tupac really is dead.
The other day, as a tourist bus passed me on the tarmac I couldn't help but think of how different their image of Namanga is from mind. They see it flash by their eyes as they are zoning out to their ipod or look up from their book. Why are their heads always facing their laps? Don't they realize that the world is outside of the bus? It makes me appreciate that I am experiencing Kenya the way that I am. I am living in namanga on my own. Entirely on my own. I have joined a community by myself in a culture other than my own. I am actually experiencing namanga. As the tour bus rode by, I looked around to see what they would have seen as their entire image, or impression, of namanga; a snapshot. There was an mzee (old man) communicating using mostly his hands and arms, much like a bird taking off for flight, and a little unsteady on his feet. There were many wazee taking chai at Al Yassin (my favorite hoteli). The Masai mamas were at their stations, ready to swarm any bus that stops to sell their beadwork. The Somali men were relaxing outside of Baba Halima's shop. And many many lorrys were lined up at the tarmac. They don't get to see the warm smiles on the market mamas faces, or how beautiful the hills are when the sun is rising. They don't have to watch dogs mistreated or children hit. They man see children in dirty rags, but they don't see the full effect that poverty can have on ana entire culture or community. They don't see my students, who sometimes are so hungry they cannot concentrate, offer me half of their orange. They don't see how much they are affected by a lack of resources, but how much their faces still light up when I say 'good morning' or try to speak kiswahili (or kimasai or kisomali). Namanga is growing on me...
Some side notes:
-I got to pet a 2 week old camel
-I went to a nearby shamba (farm) with a friend to see the destruction caused by elephants. Banana and mango trees were knocked down and they ate all of the maze. They left the kale and spinach. I put my hand in one of their footprints...they are HUGE
-Lately the children on the compound have been halping me fill in my water buckets. They are under two, so by helping I mean they follow me from the outside tap into my house, again and again. They are pretty cute.
-Termites are taking over my house!
-Anytime and American visits me, I spend the next week explaining that they are not my brother or sister
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Buibui
Instead of writing a new post, I have decided to take some snippets from my journal, which I think will give a better job of reflecting the past month!
6 May
Yesterday evening was a soul settling one. The sky was filled with huge and fluffy clouds. The bottom of the clouds were a mixture of bright oranges, pinks, and reds. My sun-setting seat is right at the base of a mini-hill that gives the people returning with water on wheelbarrows a run for their money. Yesterday, a boy actually let me help him puss his cart up the hill. I spent half of my time watching the sunset and half of it watching the girls and boys walking back pushing buckets or water, or carrying it on their heads. It hit me that I wasn't shocked by the age of these children. They are so young, and doing SUCH adult work.
I am not really sure when it happened, or why, but I have REALLY started to like whre I am. I actually get excited and a smile across my face when little kids run at me with their hands out. "Mzungu" has been bothering me less and less. I think that the Namangans are realizing that I am here to stay. And I'm realizing how to enjoy the simple pleasures that Namanga has to offer.
18 May
I'm tired. Hot. My legs are covered with mosquito bites. My head hurts, a lot. I'm not in a bad mood, just cranky. And I'm not cranky at Namanga, which is good, just cranky in general. Being cranky and alone is a weird feeling. If there is no one to see my mood, is it still there? I guess it is like the tree falling in the forest thing.
Today I had to explain to my students that people have gone to the moon, but they do not actually live there. At first I could not believe that they don't know that we've landed on the moon. But then, why would they? People on the moon really does not affect their lives. At all. When you are living your life day-to-day, meal-to-meal, who cares if there are people on the moon.
20 May - Buibui
Last night was my first real scary Africa incident. It had nothing to do with rebels, guns, or being harrassed. It was a buibui (spider). I guess I'm still not entirely sure if it was a buibui or a scorpion. It had the butt of a scorpion, but the legs of a spider. It was only slightly smaller than my hand. After checking with a Mama to see if there are poisonous spiders in Namanga, and saying 'ni kubwa sana' (its very big) I spend at least 15 minutes staring at it to build up my courage. I grabbed a peanut butter jar (a big one because I eat a lot of peanut butter) and an envelope. As a rule, I don't kill spiders, and besides, it was too big to kill. Mom would be proud. After I threw it outside it took 45 minutes for the shaking to stop. It wasn't until morning that I had convinced myself that it wouldn't crawl back under the door. Today, I checked every place where I put my hands before I went about my routine freely. Apparently I really am scared of spiders.
22 May
This morning I started thinking about how when the family comes, some things will stick out to them that now seem entirely normal to me:
-crates of sliced white bread stacked on the back of bicycles, and teetering on the uneven gravel roads
-meat being delivered in the morning on the backs of bicycles
-shoes made of old tires
-making sure there is water in the tank outside before I use my supply for bathing
-walking down the road hearing at least 4 languages: english, kiswahili, kimaasai, and kisomali
-seeing the jiko fires light up the night
-stepping over plastic bags and plastic bottles
-electricity is never a guarentee
-maasai mama's faces lighting up when they realize that you know to respond 'eba' when they say 'sopa'
-a matress is a foam pad. if your body is not evenly distributed you will fall through the cracks of the planks
-being called 'madam'...makes me feel old
24 May
Today was my second visit to AIC church with one of my students. The first time her pastor wasn't there, and she really wanted me to go when he was. They are incredibly welcoming. It is more than 3 hours long, but I get to spend a lot of that time listening to and watching the choir. I wish that they sang the entire service. Today they split up the 'introductions' and 'testimony'. I didn't really realize that it was introduction time, and I figured that I'm not new; I went two weeks ago. The pastor called me out: "I think that I saw a new face in there somewhere!". 200 heads turned to me. I wasn't entirely sure what to say because I hadn't been paying attention to the other introductions. I came up with: 'Mimi ninaitwa Carly. Thank you for welcoming me to your church". I have no clue if that was acceptable.
6 May
Yesterday evening was a soul settling one. The sky was filled with huge and fluffy clouds. The bottom of the clouds were a mixture of bright oranges, pinks, and reds. My sun-setting seat is right at the base of a mini-hill that gives the people returning with water on wheelbarrows a run for their money. Yesterday, a boy actually let me help him puss his cart up the hill. I spent half of my time watching the sunset and half of it watching the girls and boys walking back pushing buckets or water, or carrying it on their heads. It hit me that I wasn't shocked by the age of these children. They are so young, and doing SUCH adult work.
I am not really sure when it happened, or why, but I have REALLY started to like whre I am. I actually get excited and a smile across my face when little kids run at me with their hands out. "Mzungu" has been bothering me less and less. I think that the Namangans are realizing that I am here to stay. And I'm realizing how to enjoy the simple pleasures that Namanga has to offer.
18 May
I'm tired. Hot. My legs are covered with mosquito bites. My head hurts, a lot. I'm not in a bad mood, just cranky. And I'm not cranky at Namanga, which is good, just cranky in general. Being cranky and alone is a weird feeling. If there is no one to see my mood, is it still there? I guess it is like the tree falling in the forest thing.
Today I had to explain to my students that people have gone to the moon, but they do not actually live there. At first I could not believe that they don't know that we've landed on the moon. But then, why would they? People on the moon really does not affect their lives. At all. When you are living your life day-to-day, meal-to-meal, who cares if there are people on the moon.
20 May - Buibui
Last night was my first real scary Africa incident. It had nothing to do with rebels, guns, or being harrassed. It was a buibui (spider). I guess I'm still not entirely sure if it was a buibui or a scorpion. It had the butt of a scorpion, but the legs of a spider. It was only slightly smaller than my hand. After checking with a Mama to see if there are poisonous spiders in Namanga, and saying 'ni kubwa sana' (its very big) I spend at least 15 minutes staring at it to build up my courage. I grabbed a peanut butter jar (a big one because I eat a lot of peanut butter) and an envelope. As a rule, I don't kill spiders, and besides, it was too big to kill. Mom would be proud. After I threw it outside it took 45 minutes for the shaking to stop. It wasn't until morning that I had convinced myself that it wouldn't crawl back under the door. Today, I checked every place where I put my hands before I went about my routine freely. Apparently I really am scared of spiders.
22 May
This morning I started thinking about how when the family comes, some things will stick out to them that now seem entirely normal to me:
-crates of sliced white bread stacked on the back of bicycles, and teetering on the uneven gravel roads
-meat being delivered in the morning on the backs of bicycles
-shoes made of old tires
-making sure there is water in the tank outside before I use my supply for bathing
-walking down the road hearing at least 4 languages: english, kiswahili, kimaasai, and kisomali
-seeing the jiko fires light up the night
-stepping over plastic bags and plastic bottles
-electricity is never a guarentee
-maasai mama's faces lighting up when they realize that you know to respond 'eba' when they say 'sopa'
-a matress is a foam pad. if your body is not evenly distributed you will fall through the cracks of the planks
-being called 'madam'...makes me feel old
24 May
Today was my second visit to AIC church with one of my students. The first time her pastor wasn't there, and she really wanted me to go when he was. They are incredibly welcoming. It is more than 3 hours long, but I get to spend a lot of that time listening to and watching the choir. I wish that they sang the entire service. Today they split up the 'introductions' and 'testimony'. I didn't really realize that it was introduction time, and I figured that I'm not new; I went two weeks ago. The pastor called me out: "I think that I saw a new face in there somewhere!". 200 heads turned to me. I wasn't entirely sure what to say because I hadn't been paying attention to the other introductions. I came up with: 'Mimi ninaitwa Carly. Thank you for welcoming me to your church". I have no clue if that was acceptable.
Sunday, April 19, 2009
Baby elephants
Just a quick update to assure you that I am alive and well! I am in Nairobi for some more Peace Corps training (hence the access to internet). I am not entirely sure how to update the last month or so since the last posting. I can officially say that I have completed my first term as a secondary high school teacher in kenya! It is a really amazing feeling. The last few weeks of the term were incredibly taxing. If you have talked to my parents you probably know a little more about the situation. Basically I have been fighting for my rights, equality, and respect as a woman in the work place. It is challenging, but I am convinced that I will only come home a stronger woman; watch out! I have spent the past week reflecting on how I treated the entire situation, and I am energized (thanks to PC volunteer bonding time) to make the entire situation a more positive one. I will describe more in a following post when I get my act together to write something decent.
For now, here are some more Kenya tidbits. It my journal I call it 'meaningless conversation' (thanks jack):
-Today I had the opportunity to watch orphaned baby elephants get fed. It was amazing. I also got farted on by a baby elephant....again, amazing (it a smelly sort of way). And saw a baby rhino. It didn't even come up to my knees!
-Some days when I wake up, I forget that I am 'different' from the rest of the people in my town, until someone reminds me...usually no less than 5 minutes from leaving my house. Usually it is with the 'mzungu' or 'how are you' chants. This is my favorite one that occurred on the way to school :
Standard 5 student: Good morning madam
Me: Good morning
student: Are you sick?
Me: Hapana, kwa nini? (no, why?)
student: kwa sababu (because) your face LOOKS sick
Me: Kwa sababu, sitoki Namanga, sitoki Kenya (because I am not from Namanga, I am not from Kenya)
-I FINALLY have furniture, which means no more lassos on the floor
-Namanga, like most parts of Kenya these days is having an extreme water shortage. I have been ok so far, but have been changing my lifestyle to use even less water.
-My students want to know if Tupac really is dead. Any insight?
-I have finally ventured out to go running every sunday. It is probably the best decision that I have made. If I go early enough I can just see the tip of Kilimanjaro.
-Nyama Choma (roast meat) is my favorite version of Kenyan meat
-I had a week off from school before nairobi, which means LOTS of reading, cooking, and running time. I also finally got the little boy across the way to smile at me. We played peek-a-boo among the lines of laundry hanging to dry.
For now, here are some more Kenya tidbits. It my journal I call it 'meaningless conversation' (thanks jack):
-Today I had the opportunity to watch orphaned baby elephants get fed. It was amazing. I also got farted on by a baby elephant....again, amazing (it a smelly sort of way). And saw a baby rhino. It didn't even come up to my knees!
-Some days when I wake up, I forget that I am 'different' from the rest of the people in my town, until someone reminds me...usually no less than 5 minutes from leaving my house. Usually it is with the 'mzungu' or 'how are you' chants. This is my favorite one that occurred on the way to school :
Standard 5 student: Good morning madam
Me: Good morning
student: Are you sick?
Me: Hapana, kwa nini? (no, why?)
student: kwa sababu (because) your face LOOKS sick
Me: Kwa sababu, sitoki Namanga, sitoki Kenya (because I am not from Namanga, I am not from Kenya)
-I FINALLY have furniture, which means no more lassos on the floor
-Namanga, like most parts of Kenya these days is having an extreme water shortage. I have been ok so far, but have been changing my lifestyle to use even less water.
-My students want to know if Tupac really is dead. Any insight?
-I have finally ventured out to go running every sunday. It is probably the best decision that I have made. If I go early enough I can just see the tip of Kilimanjaro.
-Nyama Choma (roast meat) is my favorite version of Kenyan meat
-I had a week off from school before nairobi, which means LOTS of reading, cooking, and running time. I also finally got the little boy across the way to smile at me. We played peek-a-boo among the lines of laundry hanging to dry.
Monday, March 2, 2009
Catching Up
Some more Kenya tidbits since I wrote the last one (I write it ahead of time, then can post it whenever the internet is working, so yesterday's was really my life a month ago)
- I am now teaching physics, chemistry, biology, AND agriculture...
-There is a family of bats in the Form 1 classroom. They chatter the whole time I am teaching
-Lately, there has been a group of donkeys that wake me up in the early early morning hours hee-hawing
-I have been running a little with my students during cross-country. I miss running SO much
-I MIGHT be running a marathon in Mt. Kenya national park. I'm crossing my fingers that it will happen!
-I think the pig population is increasing; I keep seeing more and more of them
-I eat WAY too much peanut butter, but it is sooo good
-I have discovered the art of making fudge. How did I not learn this earlier...it is delicious!
-I have also discovered a place that makes yogurt. It is cheap and oh so good
-Is it sad that my primary motivation for shaving my legs is so that I cannot feel the flies land on them?
-The choo roaches are getting gutsy, they no longer go into hiding when you turn the light on
-There is a new puppy in my compound. It is super cute, but there were a few VERY long nights of puppy cries
-My new favorite kiswahili word is 'parachichi' (avocado)
-I am continuously amazed by how generous and welcoming many of the Kenyans are...
- I am now teaching physics, chemistry, biology, AND agriculture...
-There is a family of bats in the Form 1 classroom. They chatter the whole time I am teaching
-Lately, there has been a group of donkeys that wake me up in the early early morning hours hee-hawing
-I have been running a little with my students during cross-country. I miss running SO much
-I MIGHT be running a marathon in Mt. Kenya national park. I'm crossing my fingers that it will happen!
-I think the pig population is increasing; I keep seeing more and more of them
-I eat WAY too much peanut butter, but it is sooo good
-I have discovered the art of making fudge. How did I not learn this earlier...it is delicious!
-I have also discovered a place that makes yogurt. It is cheap and oh so good
-Is it sad that my primary motivation for shaving my legs is so that I cannot feel the flies land on them?
-The choo roaches are getting gutsy, they no longer go into hiding when you turn the light on
-There is a new puppy in my compound. It is super cute, but there were a few VERY long nights of puppy cries
-My new favorite kiswahili word is 'parachichi' (avocado)
-I am continuously amazed by how generous and welcoming many of the Kenyans are...
Sunday, March 1, 2009
As written 7 November 2009
I am starting to get used to the sounds of kenya, although I am not there yet. The sounds of the birds scratching on my tin roof still startles me every now and then. The chants from the mosque before the crack of dawn. At dusk I can hear the bells around the goats necks clank as they rummage through out trash pile (modern grazing). I can now fall asleep dispite the impressively loud cricket stuck in a crack in my wall, thanks to the wonderful invention of ear plugs. I am working on not being bothered by my neighbor's loud music, and I now sleep through the middle of the night cries of my neighbor's baby. I do still love it when the electricity goes out. I love hearing the screams and laughter of the watoto in my compound as they wait for their Mamas to finish making dinner. I can tell what type of fly is buzzing around my head just by the sound. In the mornings and evenings I eat to the rhythm of the Kenyan Mamas sweeping around their houses. Sometimes I get off my butt and add my own sweeping beat. Sunday is the day of church noises. Every church service here is hooked up to a blaring sound system that is broadcast throughout the town. If I stay at home on Sundays, I have about 4 different church services streaming through my house. I went to the Pentacostal service with my fellow teachers last week. When the speakers broke, I was able to actually here their real voices (the speakers aren't a great quality). Their voices are absolutly beautiful. If I could find a church without speakers I would go just to hear them sing.
I have just finished my dreaded week of teacher on duty (MOD). For those who are unfamiliar with the kenyan education system, the teacher on duty is basically the disciplinarian for the week. There are other roles as well, like handing out forms giving permission to go to the doctor's, but that I can handle. Apparently I can handle the disciplinarian role as well, because I am still alive. Although, I am a half of a bar of chocolate down, and one more round of giardia up. Giardia is JUST as much fun the second time around! Bascially, as MOD I keep track of which students are late, and assign them to cleaning jobs at the end of the day. I threw in some American methods by having them write answers to questions on why they ddi what they did, and what they will do to correct the behavior next time. However, I quickly realized that the system and resources are not in place for it to be effective. I also realized taht in order for Kenyan students to arrive to school on time (saa moja, 7:00am) they home culture will need to change. Some of them just sleep in, but many of them have to help their younger siblings get ready, or help with the morning chores. Because I am new, American, and clrealy less familiar with the kenyan education system, my students tested me SO hard. I don't think I cracked. On monday I was tested, by wednesday they listened, and by friday was laughed together. it could have gone MUCH worse. I survived, and still love my job.
I went hiking last saturday to this amazing cave-like boulder and stream that serves as my town's water source. I guess a lot of people hike up there to pray; I can see why. It was beautiful. We lazed on the rocks for a couple of hours, then hiked back down. On the way down, I was a small family of baboons, Oh kenya. The people that I have met so far have been so incredibly generous and welcoming. I ahve been invited to at least 6 different churches. I ahve been offered to be walked/driven home in the dark. I have been given gree sodas and had dinners paid for. On Monday, after my first and hardest day of duty I was taken out for chicken and chips. I am just waiting for my chance to return the favors. I have found my favorite hoteli (restaurant). I don't even konw the name, but it is a place where the elderly Masai men go; you could pass by it and have no idea that it is a place to eat. But the owner always greets me with a big smile, and there is always warm chapati. Most of the mamas at the sokoni (market) now know who i am, and greet me as I walk by. I buy so many bananas and mangoes, they must think taht I am feeding a whole family! One of the Mamas let me hang out behind her market stand the other day to get rid of my new friends, the town drunk.
I no longer have to convince myself when I wake up in the morning that I can do this for two years; now it is just a given!
One note: if you got the new address from my parents, the PO Box number changed from 7 to 111 (everything else is the same, including the 00207 number)
I am starting to get used to the sounds of kenya, although I am not there yet. The sounds of the birds scratching on my tin roof still startles me every now and then. The chants from the mosque before the crack of dawn. At dusk I can hear the bells around the goats necks clank as they rummage through out trash pile (modern grazing). I can now fall asleep dispite the impressively loud cricket stuck in a crack in my wall, thanks to the wonderful invention of ear plugs. I am working on not being bothered by my neighbor's loud music, and I now sleep through the middle of the night cries of my neighbor's baby. I do still love it when the electricity goes out. I love hearing the screams and laughter of the watoto in my compound as they wait for their Mamas to finish making dinner. I can tell what type of fly is buzzing around my head just by the sound. In the mornings and evenings I eat to the rhythm of the Kenyan Mamas sweeping around their houses. Sometimes I get off my butt and add my own sweeping beat. Sunday is the day of church noises. Every church service here is hooked up to a blaring sound system that is broadcast throughout the town. If I stay at home on Sundays, I have about 4 different church services streaming through my house. I went to the Pentacostal service with my fellow teachers last week. When the speakers broke, I was able to actually here their real voices (the speakers aren't a great quality). Their voices are absolutly beautiful. If I could find a church without speakers I would go just to hear them sing.
I have just finished my dreaded week of teacher on duty (MOD). For those who are unfamiliar with the kenyan education system, the teacher on duty is basically the disciplinarian for the week. There are other roles as well, like handing out forms giving permission to go to the doctor's, but that I can handle. Apparently I can handle the disciplinarian role as well, because I am still alive. Although, I am a half of a bar of chocolate down, and one more round of giardia up. Giardia is JUST as much fun the second time around! Bascially, as MOD I keep track of which students are late, and assign them to cleaning jobs at the end of the day. I threw in some American methods by having them write answers to questions on why they ddi what they did, and what they will do to correct the behavior next time. However, I quickly realized that the system and resources are not in place for it to be effective. I also realized taht in order for Kenyan students to arrive to school on time (saa moja, 7:00am) they home culture will need to change. Some of them just sleep in, but many of them have to help their younger siblings get ready, or help with the morning chores. Because I am new, American, and clrealy less familiar with the kenyan education system, my students tested me SO hard. I don't think I cracked. On monday I was tested, by wednesday they listened, and by friday was laughed together. it could have gone MUCH worse. I survived, and still love my job.
I went hiking last saturday to this amazing cave-like boulder and stream that serves as my town's water source. I guess a lot of people hike up there to pray; I can see why. It was beautiful. We lazed on the rocks for a couple of hours, then hiked back down. On the way down, I was a small family of baboons, Oh kenya. The people that I have met so far have been so incredibly generous and welcoming. I ahve been invited to at least 6 different churches. I ahve been offered to be walked/driven home in the dark. I have been given gree sodas and had dinners paid for. On Monday, after my first and hardest day of duty I was taken out for chicken and chips. I am just waiting for my chance to return the favors. I have found my favorite hoteli (restaurant). I don't even konw the name, but it is a place where the elderly Masai men go; you could pass by it and have no idea that it is a place to eat. But the owner always greets me with a big smile, and there is always warm chapati. Most of the mamas at the sokoni (market) now know who i am, and greet me as I walk by. I buy so many bananas and mangoes, they must think taht I am feeding a whole family! One of the Mamas let me hang out behind her market stand the other day to get rid of my new friends, the town drunk.
I no longer have to convince myself when I wake up in the morning that I can do this for two years; now it is just a given!
One note: if you got the new address from my parents, the PO Box number changed from 7 to 111 (everything else is the same, including the 00207 number)
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
I have a new home. It is hot, dry, and dusty, but it is home. I have been here for two weeks, and am starting to feel comfortable. I keep having to remind myself to relax, I have only been here for two weeks; it took me a month and a half to feel comfortable in our training town.
Every morning around 5 am I am woken up by chants from the mosque. I am sure that I will have days when I just want to be able to sleep at 5am, but for now, I find it utterly peaceful. It adds a whole new dimension to my morning yoga routine (be proud steph!) My school is just a 20 minute walk from home. I have finally solidified my teaching subjects, or I guess I should say, realized that I am teaching all three: biology, physics, and chemistry.
Training, even the model school, could no prepare me for the Kenyan Education system. It is different from the American system in SO many ways. My students are wonderful. My school is only 3 years old, so we only have Form 1, 2, and 3 (corresponds to freshman, sophomores, and juniors). Next year we will have a form 4 class. Our form 1's start on the second week of February (everyone else started in January), and their classroom is in the process of being build. Because the form 1's have yet to arrive, I spend the majority of my time talking with my kenyan colleagues about politics, cultural/language differences, and life in general. My first day of class was definitely interesting. I talked with the students about America vs. Kenya. They had amazing questions, like what is the education system in America like? What is your mother tonque (I had to explain that we do not have tribal languages, or really tribes for most of us for that matter)? Did you vote for Obama? Why? Each day gets better and better. I spend my nights brainstorming creative ways to transform my lectures in to lessons. When did I become to teachery???
I was fortunate enough to see president Obama's inaugural speech. It started at 8pm here. I don't have a TV, but my neighbors do. I invited myself over. I am not sure if that is culturally correct, but go big or go home, right?
I say that I have a new home, when really all that I have is a bed to call my own. I am working on getting the rest of my house set up....slowly. It is so hot here that I don't need to warm up my bucket bathing water. Sounds silly, but it is the little things!
If you have not heard, the majority of Kenya's educators are on strike. My school is still running, but the primary school whose grounds we are on is not. It is a little awkward, and I can certainly feel the tension. My belly is full of chai, mandazi (like fried dough) and PB and banana sandwhich. I bought PB in Nairobi, and it was definitely worth the pesa. I have also discorvered the genious creation of mango rice...SO GOOD (mango rice pudding...not so good).
Kenya tidbits: the other day, in the choo, I not only peed on my feet, but also in my shoe, and ALSO managed to splash myself in the forehead; my students are starting to teach me the kiswahili works that you don't learn in class; chocolate becomes the perfect stage of meltiness here; I am starting to enjoy my walk to town. People now recognize me, and I am swarmed by watoto (small children); I almost got attacked by a goat...rabies anyone?; I spent two hours getting a mouse out of my house because I did not want to kill it; I got stuck in the rain yesterday on the walk home with my students...it was amazing!
Every morning around 5 am I am woken up by chants from the mosque. I am sure that I will have days when I just want to be able to sleep at 5am, but for now, I find it utterly peaceful. It adds a whole new dimension to my morning yoga routine (be proud steph!) My school is just a 20 minute walk from home. I have finally solidified my teaching subjects, or I guess I should say, realized that I am teaching all three: biology, physics, and chemistry.
Training, even the model school, could no prepare me for the Kenyan Education system. It is different from the American system in SO many ways. My students are wonderful. My school is only 3 years old, so we only have Form 1, 2, and 3 (corresponds to freshman, sophomores, and juniors). Next year we will have a form 4 class. Our form 1's start on the second week of February (everyone else started in January), and their classroom is in the process of being build. Because the form 1's have yet to arrive, I spend the majority of my time talking with my kenyan colleagues about politics, cultural/language differences, and life in general. My first day of class was definitely interesting. I talked with the students about America vs. Kenya. They had amazing questions, like what is the education system in America like? What is your mother tonque (I had to explain that we do not have tribal languages, or really tribes for most of us for that matter)? Did you vote for Obama? Why? Each day gets better and better. I spend my nights brainstorming creative ways to transform my lectures in to lessons. When did I become to teachery???
I was fortunate enough to see president Obama's inaugural speech. It started at 8pm here. I don't have a TV, but my neighbors do. I invited myself over. I am not sure if that is culturally correct, but go big or go home, right?
I say that I have a new home, when really all that I have is a bed to call my own. I am working on getting the rest of my house set up....slowly. It is so hot here that I don't need to warm up my bucket bathing water. Sounds silly, but it is the little things!
If you have not heard, the majority of Kenya's educators are on strike. My school is still running, but the primary school whose grounds we are on is not. It is a little awkward, and I can certainly feel the tension. My belly is full of chai, mandazi (like fried dough) and PB and banana sandwhich. I bought PB in Nairobi, and it was definitely worth the pesa. I have also discorvered the genious creation of mango rice...SO GOOD (mango rice pudding...not so good).
Kenya tidbits: the other day, in the choo, I not only peed on my feet, but also in my shoe, and ALSO managed to splash myself in the forehead; my students are starting to teach me the kiswahili works that you don't learn in class; chocolate becomes the perfect stage of meltiness here; I am starting to enjoy my walk to town. People now recognize me, and I am swarmed by watoto (small children); I almost got attacked by a goat...rabies anyone?; I spent two hours getting a mouse out of my house because I did not want to kill it; I got stuck in the rain yesterday on the walk home with my students...it was amazing!
Thursday, January 8, 2009
SITE
Just a quick update: I leave tomorrow to go to my site in Masai country near Amboseli. I am really excited, but oh so nervous to be on my own! I left my homestay family feeling very ready to come back and visit them at the end of the three month term. I will start teaching on Monday, but won't have to do a ton of teaching for the first few weeks. I will hopefully get some pictures up of my new house. I apparently have electricity, an indoor and outdoor toilet, but no running water. It is hot. There are zebras. Giardia is not the time of my life! Kenya is awesome, and there is Gelato in Nairobi, which is amazing (butterscotch yesterday and strawberry cheesecake today...mmmm).
Saturday, December 20, 2008
Mambo!
I hope that everyone had a wonderful thanksgiving! If you are reading this from Vermont, I also hope that you are enjoying the snow (if there is snow). A few mornings ago there was a lot of new snow on Kilimanjaro. Seeing it made me stop in my footsteps on the way to class.
My thanksgiving was all that I could have wanted, although pumpkin pie WOULD have been the cherry on top. Out very traditional thanksgiving included chicken (killed moments before), French fries, rice, meat stew, chapatti, cabbage, bananas, and soda (a treat)! I spent it with the 40 other volunteers. We had the day off, so we relaxed and played soccer (in tank-tops and pants!) all day. Perfect!
Let me back up to what I have been doing for the past month… Thanksgiving fell in the middle of our two-week ‘mock teaching’. We observed Kenyan teachers teach biology, chemistry, physics, and math for two days. Following those two days it was our turn to teach for the next six. The education system in Kenya is a little different from back home. Here, after taking a test at the end of grade 8, students may or may not get in to secondary school. If they do get in, they will likely have a days worth of travel from the nymba (home) to shule (school). This means that most of the schools are boarding schools. They have a six week break from the end of November until the beginning of January, the start of the school year. So all of out students for these two weeks came during their holiday. Some came to get out of weeding the shamba (farm fields), while others wanted some extra study time for their exams. Regardless, it was for sure an interesting experience. It is very different to be working with an education system that SO heavily teaches to the test. I can see both the positives and negative to the education system, but I definitely foresee frustrations ahead!
For the entire two month training I have and will continue to be staying in a homestay. My Kenyan family takes great care of me! There have definitely been struggles: I don’t ever seem to eat enough for Mama’s liking, they eat at 8:30-9 at night, I crave more freedom, I can’t wear shorts or tank tops unless I am locked in my room, but I will really miss them when I cam on my own! One of my favorite moments so far was a night when I was particularly hungry, it was late, and there was no dinner in the jikoni (kitchen). Mama told me to follow her outside, where she was cooking Githeri (beans and corn) on the outside wood fire. It was the first time that I had ventured outside at night, and the night’s sky was breathtaking. Mama thought I was crazy to stand in the middle of the lawn with my eyes glued to the sky, but I find the stars incredibly centering, especially when I need it most. From that point on I have found some reason to go outside at night, or make a mad dash to the outside choo (pit latrine) early early in the morning.
December 12th was Jamhuri Day, Kenya's independence day. I planted trees with my host sister in the morning (I love her), and went to the district celebration in the afternoon. All of the district officials were sitting under a tent while different groups in the town put on short skits (mom, dad, and the lewis's, does this remind you of when we were little?). Everything was great, until they made a special announcement that the PC volunteers should be given space under the tent. Assistant chiefs, and other officials gave up their seats for us. Meanshile, the rest of the townspeaple are standing along the sidelines in the sun. It was a honor, but it will be a constant struggle to be treated so differently!
A few random notes: we have been hiking and exploring on the weekends and it is wonderful; every morning I wake up, run to the choo (i need to stop drinking water at night), come back and do yoga and pilates..i love it; the children here are adorable, but their "mzungu, how are you?" over and over again is something I wasn't ready for; there is this hill on the last stretch to my homestay...it gives me a wonderful few of the valley, and often makes me stop and smile...I am in Kenya!
I hope that everyone had a wonderful thanksgiving! If you are reading this from Vermont, I also hope that you are enjoying the snow (if there is snow). A few mornings ago there was a lot of new snow on Kilimanjaro. Seeing it made me stop in my footsteps on the way to class.
My thanksgiving was all that I could have wanted, although pumpkin pie WOULD have been the cherry on top. Out very traditional thanksgiving included chicken (killed moments before), French fries, rice, meat stew, chapatti, cabbage, bananas, and soda (a treat)! I spent it with the 40 other volunteers. We had the day off, so we relaxed and played soccer (in tank-tops and pants!) all day. Perfect!
Let me back up to what I have been doing for the past month… Thanksgiving fell in the middle of our two-week ‘mock teaching’. We observed Kenyan teachers teach biology, chemistry, physics, and math for two days. Following those two days it was our turn to teach for the next six. The education system in Kenya is a little different from back home. Here, after taking a test at the end of grade 8, students may or may not get in to secondary school. If they do get in, they will likely have a days worth of travel from the nymba (home) to shule (school). This means that most of the schools are boarding schools. They have a six week break from the end of November until the beginning of January, the start of the school year. So all of out students for these two weeks came during their holiday. Some came to get out of weeding the shamba (farm fields), while others wanted some extra study time for their exams. Regardless, it was for sure an interesting experience. It is very different to be working with an education system that SO heavily teaches to the test. I can see both the positives and negative to the education system, but I definitely foresee frustrations ahead!
For the entire two month training I have and will continue to be staying in a homestay. My Kenyan family takes great care of me! There have definitely been struggles: I don’t ever seem to eat enough for Mama’s liking, they eat at 8:30-9 at night, I crave more freedom, I can’t wear shorts or tank tops unless I am locked in my room, but I will really miss them when I cam on my own! One of my favorite moments so far was a night when I was particularly hungry, it was late, and there was no dinner in the jikoni (kitchen). Mama told me to follow her outside, where she was cooking Githeri (beans and corn) on the outside wood fire. It was the first time that I had ventured outside at night, and the night’s sky was breathtaking. Mama thought I was crazy to stand in the middle of the lawn with my eyes glued to the sky, but I find the stars incredibly centering, especially when I need it most. From that point on I have found some reason to go outside at night, or make a mad dash to the outside choo (pit latrine) early early in the morning.
December 12th was Jamhuri Day, Kenya's independence day. I planted trees with my host sister in the morning (I love her), and went to the district celebration in the afternoon. All of the district officials were sitting under a tent while different groups in the town put on short skits (mom, dad, and the lewis's, does this remind you of when we were little?). Everything was great, until they made a special announcement that the PC volunteers should be given space under the tent. Assistant chiefs, and other officials gave up their seats for us. Meanshile, the rest of the townspeaple are standing along the sidelines in the sun. It was a honor, but it will be a constant struggle to be treated so differently!
A few random notes: we have been hiking and exploring on the weekends and it is wonderful; every morning I wake up, run to the choo (i need to stop drinking water at night), come back and do yoga and pilates..i love it; the children here are adorable, but their "mzungu, how are you?" over and over again is something I wasn't ready for; there is this hill on the last stretch to my homestay...it gives me a wonderful few of the valley, and often makes me stop and smile...I am in Kenya!
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Hamjambo
Just a quick update. I have been in Kenya for about two weeks, and I'm loving it! i see kilimanjaro every morning on the way to my training school. i love my kenyan host family, and they take great care of me (this morning i had bananas, pineapple, and crepe-style pancakes). Happy turkey day!
Sunday, November 9, 2008
5 parts excitement:1 part nerves
I have finally packed my bags, which feels like the final step before leaving for Kenya, even though I have a few last minute errands to run tomorrow. I have spent the past few days doing all things Vermonty: hiking Mt. Mansfield, pizza with the Lewis family, enough Ben and Jerry's to last a lifetime, and Penny Cluse tomorrow! My belly is full with my last serving of Pat Brown Sunday morning pancakes, for a few years, and I am feeling very very ready to go!
In between the abundance of unknowns, this is what I know:
I know that I fly out of Burlington early on Tuesday and train for a day in Philly. On Wednesday I'll take a bus with 42 other PC volunteers to JFK airport. We will fly through Amsterdam to Nairobi (I will soon be able to say that I've been to Europe...kinda). I know that I will spend the first few months at the base of Mt. Kilimanjaro living with a Kenyan family, learning Swahili, and doing my best to soak up enough knowledge to be an effective Kenyan educator.
We arrive during the rainy season, so it will be a rainy 75-85 degrees during the day, and down to 40-65 at night. I know that I am supposed to bring mud boots (I love mud). I know that I will not have great internet access for these first two months, and I may or may not have a cell phone.
After the two months, assuming that I pass the Swahili language test, I know that I will be 'sworn in' as a PC volunteer, and will move to the site that I will work and live at as a biology and/or chemistry and/or physics teacher for two years.
I know that when I come back I'll be 25 (hellooo quarter-life crisis), which I'm sure seems like a much bigger deal to me now then it will when I return.
I know that I will come back with some idea of how to play the Ukulele I just got!
As I told my Aunt's fourth grade class, I cannot wait to see the Kenyan plants and animals: giraffes, hippos, impalas, zebra, pangolin (look these up...they are wicked cool), the famous wildebeest migrations, and baobab trees.
I know that I don't know much, but enough to be 5 parts excited, and just a little nervous!
Carly
In between the abundance of unknowns, this is what I know:
I know that I fly out of Burlington early on Tuesday and train for a day in Philly. On Wednesday I'll take a bus with 42 other PC volunteers to JFK airport. We will fly through Amsterdam to Nairobi (I will soon be able to say that I've been to Europe...kinda). I know that I will spend the first few months at the base of Mt. Kilimanjaro living with a Kenyan family, learning Swahili, and doing my best to soak up enough knowledge to be an effective Kenyan educator.
We arrive during the rainy season, so it will be a rainy 75-85 degrees during the day, and down to 40-65 at night. I know that I am supposed to bring mud boots (I love mud). I know that I will not have great internet access for these first two months, and I may or may not have a cell phone.
After the two months, assuming that I pass the Swahili language test, I know that I will be 'sworn in' as a PC volunteer, and will move to the site that I will work and live at as a biology and/or chemistry and/or physics teacher for two years.
I know that when I come back I'll be 25 (hellooo quarter-life crisis), which I'm sure seems like a much bigger deal to me now then it will when I return.
I know that I will come back with some idea of how to play the Ukulele I just got!
As I told my Aunt's fourth grade class, I cannot wait to see the Kenyan plants and animals: giraffes, hippos, impalas, zebra, pangolin (look these up...they are wicked cool), the famous wildebeest migrations, and baobab trees.
I know that I don't know much, but enough to be 5 parts excited, and just a little nervous!
Carly
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