Making Plans

I have added a new member to my family!!

(No, I haven't eloped with a Kenyan. Not yet, anyway.)

It all started on a Monday, on Valentine's Day. I had stopped by the little roadside duka to buy some small candies for my fellow teachers in order to share a little bit of an American holiday tradition, and arrived to school early. My week as the teacher on duty was just starting, so I helped the kids with their morning chores and attempted to explain Valentine's Day to my students (I think they mostly just caught "love day" and were underwhelmed, even when I told them they were ALL my Valentines, and the best Valentines I could hope for... some things are just lost in language/culture translation). After my first block of classes, I returned to the staff room where most of the other teachers were assembled. They thanked me for the sweets, and we talked briefly about the differences between Kenyan/American Valentine's Day (I'll give you a hint - Americans tend to take it way too far, spend too much money, and Kenyan's don't understand why. That seems to be a common theme in the difference between Kenyan/American anything) until the head teacher came into the room and requested my presence in his office. I was confused when he pulled an empty potato sack out from under his desk, even more confused when I realized there was something small inside, and downright baffled when the small object in the bag moved. Most of my experiences in Kenya with living creatures given as gifts have been confined to chickens in the collection plate at church, which made me nervous. I have no idea how to take care of a chicken, and don't really want one. But when I looked inside the bag, I was thrilled - there was a tiny grey and black striped kitten sitting at the bottom, looking up at me. I saved him from his burlap confinement immediately, and we've been best of friends ever since. (Note: I know I have previously referred to my kitten as a girl, but some... evidence has proven that she is, in fact, a he). He still doesn't know that fingers are not for biting, but that's one of the last lessons that kittens learn, so we're working on that one slowly. I'm otherwise pleased with his company and antics.

Of course this can't be an entirely pleasant blog post. Another event that really knocked me off my feet (but not in an I-just-got-an-adorable-kitten kind of way) was a recent bout of giardia. I had been so careful with my water treatment and general cleanliness that I thought I had nothing to worry about. But parasites have a way of finding you despite your best efforts, so I was stuck dealing with the first real episode of serious sickness since I've been here. Luckily the medication worked quickly, and the family on my compound helped me out a lot. They gave me fresh pineapple when I regained my appetite, and even offered to wash all my clothes. I didn't let them do that, but still. They were total life savers. Now I'm healthy, I've doused my house in bleach and replaced all my drinking water containers (I am my father's daughter, after all) and hope to stay healthy because of it.

Teaching continues to make me incredibly happy and drive me totally crazy. I'm brainstorming ideas for helping improve the situation at our school to make it more learner-centered and nurturing, (and, by selfish extension, a little easier on the teachers) but we're really starting from scratch. So far I've thought of

• Readjusting the classes (and the students therein) to actually reflect the level of learning that's appropriate in each case. We currently place students in a class based on age rather than ability, so the older man who can't write his name is in class eight while the boy-genius who works on long division and spells names of Kenyan cities for fun is in class five.
  
• Expanding the garden to include more nutritious options to supplement the githeri/ugali/porridge diet that the students get (and actually serve the produce to the STUDENTS instead of the teachers), maybe including a small nursery for baby fruit trees that we can keep for the community (thanks for the nursery idea, Tim!)
• Building a resource room/library that can house books, posters, games and other educational resources that the students don't have now. Also, making the posters, getting donated kids' books and games, etc.
  
• Starting a girls' group to promote health, self-esteem and friendship between the girls (we're having a bit of a problem with the ladies and the way they interact with one another).

There are other ideas, but these are the most pressing, and most feasible. I can start the girls' group this term, but the others will take some planning. I hope to get the other teachers on board, provided they agree with my analysis!

Other than those updates, there isn't a lot that has changed. I'm already getting excited for In-Service Training in Nairobi at the end of this first term. I'm becoming more and more used to living in a village, and have become a bit out of touch with modern conveniences. This is a good thing for the most part (it's nice to not miss running water when it's not an option), but when Nyahururu looks like a bustling metropolis to me (and I can vividly remember, upon first sight, considering it a very small town), I think it's time to reacquaint myself with a real city. And of course I'll have a chance to see the other Volunteers and "be American" for a little while. I like becoming Kenyan, but there's something rehabilitative about being myself for some time.

In the meantime, if you city slickers think your life is a little boring and could be spiced up by taking on a bit of a challenge, I have one for you! The 50-year anniversary of John F. Kennedy's creation of the Peace Corps is coming up in March, and Peace Corps is doing all kinds of things to raise awareness not only of the anniversary but of the organization as a whole. One of the events is a challenge to US citizens living in the states to "Live like a PCV." You can choose a country from the available participants (Kenya is one of them!) and there are guidelines (of varying difficulty) that you follow to simulate life as a PCV for a week in the country you've selected. If you're considering service as a PCV, it's a great taste of life in-country. Or if it just sounds like fun, check out the rules, photos and other information here.

I'd also like to extend an invitation for anyone following this blog to post a comment with a request for what they'd like to read about. Since I've been here for a while, I have a hard time determining what is exciting, or what people may be left wondering at the end of each post. I will post a summary of daily life (with pictures!) once I reach Nairobi and have picture-uploading ability, and of course I will keep everyone updated on what happens in my school/life (those two things are slowly becoming the SAME thing). But, any specific requests are encouraged!

Lessons Learned

I can hardly believe it, but it has been four months since I first landed in Kenya. That’s exactly seventeen weeks, 1/3 of a year, and 2/13 of my service (but who’s counting?). As I mentioned in a previous post about my perception of the passage of time, I can’t determine whether it feels like it’s been far longer than four months or much, much shorter. But I can breathe a little easier now that a sizeable amount of time has passed, now that I have some experience under my belt. I find myself speaking in a friendly Kenyan accent even when I’m talking to Americans, and the amount of livestock and poultry wandering through town doesn’t faze me anymore. I’m feeling more settled every day.

Since the last post, there have been a few notable events, and the MOST notable was Ian’s visit. For those of you who don’t have the pleasure of knowing Ian, he’s one of my best friends from Alaska who has been in Kenya since late December, volunteering at an orphanage on Rusinga, an island on Lake Victoria. There are no words to express how awesome it was to see a familiar face in a sea of strangers as he got off the matatu. Plus, he had brought news from and about loved ones, gifts from home, and bear hugs. It was one of the best moments in Kenya thus far.

Ian and I spent the weekend in Nyahururu catching up with each other, talking about Kenya and about America, and seeing the sights in town. And by “sights” I really just mean the singular sight, Thompson Falls. The falls are lovely, and it’s not difficult to get to the base. There is a fancy tourist lodge right next to the falls, but it was out of our price range so we stayed in one of the smaller “hotels” in town. There were no frills and the time was short, but it was fun to be in a bigger town, away from work. After mass on Sunday (there was an English service! Mass in Sipili is only in Kikuyu) Ian and I took a matatu back to Sipili so he could meet the kids at school. The kids loved him, and liked that his name is short and easy to finger spell. They even gave him a sign name – you bring your thumb and other four fingers together like you’re grabbing the brim of a baseball cap next to your forehead (meant to represent his hair, which is different from hairstyles they’re used to seeing). Even though he left about a week ago, the kids still come up to me, sign his sign name and then sign “where?” I think they miss his company and Frisbee skills.

Ian also helped Jessica and I with our weekly “guidance and counseling” session at the secondary school (it’s always a little weird for me to go there and teach kids who can hear). We tell the students to pretend like we’re not teachers, just for the hour, and to ask us anything they want to ask. Usually it’s related to life skills (drugs, alcohol, STDs, etc.) but sometimes we get really great questions about America (and requests for our phone numbers), or get a chance to dispel a particularly ridiculous misconception about HIV/AIDS. It’s a fun weekly event. Despite its simplicity (or maybe because of it) I think it helps the students.

Once Ian departed to continue his adventures (including a Kilimanjaro climb!), it was back to the normal routine. During the weekend, I visited the school that the kids on the compound attend and met their teachers. Here in Kenya, most kids go to school on Saturdays – it makes me appreciate the fact that I’ve always had free weekends. Then on Sunday I went to church with the grandfather of the family I’m staying with. He lives less than a kilometer down the road from our compound, so he left his house a bit early and picked me up on his bicycle at around 9:30 AM. I figured we’d be at church for a few hours, three at the most. I told the older girl on the compound that I’d be home in the early afternoon to do some washing, and we made plans to wash clothes at the same time and keep each other company. But now as I look back, I should have remembered the one truth that has been reinforced over and over throughout my Kenyan experiences: an invitation is never as simple as it sounds. Lunch is never just lunch, a meeting is never just a meeting, so why should I expect church to be just church? When we arrived, I found out that it was "pastors’ day," so the church had about six visiting pastors, all of whom made speeches throughout the course of the service. The pastor gave me a chance to deliver a speech as well (probably because I stuck out like a sore thumb and was most obviously a visitor), so I said a few words about my job, etc. During the main service, there was a bible study, the usual preaching that I had expected, and of course singing and dancing (including a bunch of elderly Kikuyu mamas doing the electric slide – a great sight to see). Once that was all over I thought we were finished, but it turned out to be a special fundraising day where a representative from each family in the congregation (no less than 100 people) came up one by one and announced their contribution. Finally we finished, and we were served lunch. We ended up leaving the church around 3:30 PM. I had to laugh to myself a little for vastly underestimating the time commitment I had inadvertently made, but I just filed it away as a lesson learned. I think from now on I’ll stick to the Catholic church – even in Kenya we’re usually in and out in under 2 hours.

The other recent excitement was our site visit by Peace Corps staff. During the first term of teaching, they make a point to visit all the volunteers at our sites and make sure we’re doing well. Since they drove to us from Nairobi, they were able to bring all kinds of fun things (American candy, fruits, and mail that had come to the Nairobi training address after we were posted at site) It was nice to see the staff, and even nicer to finally get my Christmas package from home! It actually looked like Christmas morning in my house after I opened the package – there was wrapping paper everywhere, and the PC Medical staff who came had brought oranges, which are always in my stocking. It was definitely a great mental health day.

Aside from all the excitement in the past couple of weeks, teaching is still going pretty well. I can see a bit of improvement in some of the kids (especially in class 8 English), but there are still challenges. I’m learning how to cope with the frustrations I have with how the school is run, and I’m trying to focus on being grateful for the things the other teachers do to help me out. There’s one teacher who sympathizes with my frustrations (and who can tell when I’m reaching the end of my rope) and reminds me that any meaningful changes will take time. Another teacher always invites me to her house for tea and a homemade meal. Those small moments of compassion and concern that they show me are good reminders that it’s not fair to fly in from America and dwell on the things in the school that don’t work. At least there IS a school. At least the kids have a bed, food, clothes and teachers. Everything else is variable, but even those basics weren’t available to them ten years ago. I’m not getting complacent and of course I want to encourage positive change, but at least I’m not so overwhelmed.

Oh, and I do have a fun anecdote. The other day, I was eating my usual githeri for lunch at school (githeri is the staple Kikuyu dish, essentially a mixture of maize and beans), and I noticed something I hadn’t noticed before. I’d always assumed that the dark specks in my githeri were pieces of burnt beans or some other byproduct of cooking, but upon closer examination I realized that they were, in fact, bugs. I have eaten githeri almost every day for lunch since the term began, so I have no idea how many bugs I’ve accidentally eaten since then. I mentioned my discovery to the students, and they just thought it was funny that it bothered me. According to one of the boys, the bugs just make you stronger. More protein, I guess. Life in Kenya is full of surprises – I think I’ll only continue to discover metaphorical bugs in the metaphorical githeri of my experience. And I think that they will, in fact, make me stronger.