School is over, break has begun, and I haven't felt this relaxed in months.
But since I haven't written in a while, I'll give some updates before talking about break. Most notably, the rains came! They started one afternoon shortly after my last post, and didn't let up for a few days. It was incredible how the environment of the whole town switched from drought to flood in a matter of days. The rain sparked a flurry of planting in all the shambas in Sipili, and drew a sigh of relief from most of the families in town. There have been a few showers since the initial thunderstorms, but we're hoping there will be some more heavy rains again this season. Another byproduct of the first rain is the emergence of flying termites. I didn't pay them much attention when I saw them flying around the first morning after the rains came, but when I got to school I DID notice my students running and jumping in the air to catch the termites. At first I thought they were playing like kids do, and then I saw them EAT the termites. I was surprised and asked the kids about it, and they just grinned and assured me the bugs are "VERY sweet!" Even some of the teachers were surprised I didn't want to try some freshly-caught termites, but others understood why I was wary. They insisted they were MUCH better lightly fried.
Last weekend, I took a trip up North to see some other volunteers in Maralal (a small town in Samburu, home to the tribe of the same name). I really fell in love with the place. Although the town is about 100 km from Sipili, it takes about 3 hours to get there since the road is unpaved. I was happy to meander slowly, since the grasslands we traveled through were full of zebra, gazelles, camels and a few giraffe. In fact, we came across one particularly stubborn giraffe standing in the middle of the road who reluctantly allowed us to pass only after we yelled, honked and otherwise expressed our desire for it to move for a few minutes. I couldn't help comparing it to the moose in Alaska - it gave us passengers the same unamused look that moose give as it lumbered off the road.
Arriving in Maralal reminded me of what I had expected to find when I first landed in Kenya. The first things I saw were groups of Samburu people, and I found myself staring, transfixed. The Samburu tribe is one of the tribes in Kenya that has maintained a large degree of its traditional culture, which is immediately obvious in their appearance. Their dress is characterized by bright colors, elaborate beadwork, ear piercings (I've been asked if I'm Samburu because of my multiple piercings), and the unique ochre-dyed braids of the murran (warriors). They are quite stunning. The Samburu are nomadic pastoralists, so it's common to see a Samburu man wrapped only in a shukka (cloth around his waist), holding a staff and walking with his large herd of goats or cows. It's an interesting contrast to the Kikuyu people in my region, who rely heavily on agriculture, and who have completely embraced a more "Western" way of life. The Samburu have even managed to retain a large amount of their traditional religion, although there is a strong Christian contingency in Maralal specifically. Seeing the other volunteers was great, too. We were able to share stories from our sites, and work on ideas for our secondary projects. It only made me more excited to see ALL the volunteers in Nairobi in mid-April!
After returning to Sipili, I worked hard on marking exams and filling out report cards, while preparing my house for an extended absence. Exams were frustrating, but I was SO proud of my class 8 English class. We've been working tirelessly all term to translate signed KSL into written English, including all the grammatical nuances that are integral to English and irrelevant to KSL. All our work paid off when I saw their English compositions. Although they were admittedly full of errors, there were a few COMPLETE SENTENCES in the compositions! It was really encouraging, and I told the kids they should be REALLY proud of themselves, because I was certainly proud of them. It was a highlight in the middle of the largely irrelevant testing.
After a seemingly eternal week of exams, practicing for games and cleaning the classrooms, we closed the school on Friday, and the kids who aren't coming to Nakuru were picked up by their parents/guardians. However, there are a few kids who are staying at the school for the rest of break because their parents can't (or won't) travel to Sipili to pick them up. It's always a strong dose of reality when I encounter those kinds of things. All my life I've not only been lucky to HAVE parents, but I've had parents who support me and welcome me into their home whenever I want or need, no matter how old I am. Some of the kids who will stay alone at school are younger than I was the first time I stayed away from my parents for more than one night. It's not about placing blame - the parents do what they can. But it does put my "troubles" in perspective.
Friday afternoon, I left with Jessica for Nakuru. It used to be known as "the cleanest town in East Africa," and although that superlative no longer holds, it is certainly more organized and charming than other cities I've visited. Over the past couple of days, Jessica and I have re-acquainted ourselves with many of the amenities we've become accustomed to living without in Sipili. When we checked into our hotel room, we gazed lovingly at the switch on the wall that controls the hot water heater for the shower, and immediately plugged in all our chargeable gadgets to the electrical outlet. We went out for COLD drinks and American food, and wasted a couple of hours on high-speed internet. We even spotted a laundromat in town. It's fun to be surrounded by some of the comforts of home, but even after just a couple of days I feel as though my craving for familiarity has been sated. Who knows, maybe by the end of this break I'll start missing doing all my chores (including washing clothes and bathing) with a bucket.
The kids will arrive sometime tomorrow to start games. I'm already missing them, so it will be great to see their smiling faces, especially in this context. As much as I enjoy teaching, it's a lot of fun to just spend time with them informally and get to know their personalities better. They've been looking forward to this for such a long time, so I know they'll have a blast no matter how they do in games. But of course I hope they do well so we can all go to Mombasa in a week!
Travel to Mombasa and Nairobi is exciting for one particular reason: access to wi-fi. I'll hopefully be able to access Skype, so let me know if you'd like to video chat sometime in mid-late April! I can't imagine how incredible it will be to see faces that I haven't seen in six months.
Sunday, April 3, 2011
Monday, March 14, 2011
Games and More
When it comes to impatience for the term to end, there’s not a lot of difference between school in the US and school in Kenya. My school will close on April 1st for a little over a month, and the teachers (myself included) and all the students are getting really anxious for these next three weeks to fly by – mostly because Provincial Games start right after closing! Provincial Games will be held at a primary school for the Deaf in Nakuru (about one hour southwest of Nyahururu) and will host all the special schools in the Province. Each special school will compete within its category (e.g. Deaf students compete against one another, Blind students compete against one another, etc.) and the students who do the best in their category will proceed to National Games in Mombasa.
Last Friday we had school-wide time trials for the running races. We had already selected the volleyball teams (boys and girls), football team (boys) and netball team (girls), but we hadn’t chosen students for the track events. We don’t have a discus, javelin, shotput, long jump or high jump at our school, so I’m still a little unclear about how we’ll select students for those events (maybe no one will enter). But we do have a rudimentary track (an oval-shaped trail through an overgrown field) which we used for the running time trials. I was pretty impressed with these kids – they don’t have running shoes (or any shoes at all, in a lot of cases), they don’t have clothes other than their uniforms (imagine running a track race in a skirt and petticoats) or water bottles (instead of water, Kenyans give kids powdered glucose after running a race), but most of them were incredibly fast. It was a lot of fun to watch the kids really excel at something, especially the ones who have a difficult time in class. Once the time trials were finished, we determined who would travel to Nakuru as a team. Unfortunately, we only have the budget to bring 35 students, so about 25 kids will be left behind. The littlest ones in class one were oblivious to the purpose of the races, so they weren’t disappointed about being left. But there were a few older students who have never qualified and really want to go to Nakuru, so there were some tears. Seeing the kids so upset about not being able to travel to a town just an hour away made me really wish that we could bring everyone on the trip, but I also found myself feeling grateful for the travel opportunities I've been lucky enough to have over the years. Hopefully there will be another chance for them to go somewhere different – maybe to Kakamega for the drama and dance competitions later in the year.
I’ll be one of two teachers to chaperone the week-long trip to Nakuru, and maybe continue on to Mombasa if any of the kids qualify. I’m very excited about Nakuru – it’s the fourth largest city in Kenya (after big three: Nairobi, Mombasa and Kisumu), which hopefully means I can find supermarkets, fun restaurants and maybe some dancing. But even if I don’t find those in Nakuru, they will certainly be waiting for me in Nairobi in mid-April.
Aside from these upcoming events, there isn’t a lot that has changed at my site. The rains still haven’t come, which isn’t great news for the crops, but we’re still hopeful that they’ll come before March ends. Also, today marks five months in Kenya, which is exciting, but I’m losing bits of my American-ness every day. For example, I was talking with a friend from college on the phone last Friday, and she mentioned looking up churches on Yelp.com. I found myself wondering, "what the heck is Yelp?” After I sat and thought for a good five seconds, I finally remembered Yelp (a website that provides reviews of businesses in searchable regions that I used on a weekly, if not daily, basis at home). Once I knew what she was talking about, I couldn’t believe I had completely forgotten about a website that I used so frequently at home. I guess there’s not a real need for it in Sipili, where there’s one hotel, one supermarket and all the other little shops are virtually identical. I also find myself feeling completely shocked when I see someone scantily clad on TV. Music videos or advertisements that were run-of-the-mill back at home seem completely scandalous here. I think I’m becoming re-sensitized to the insane images that we see all the time on TV in the US, which will prove interesting when I get back home. I don’t know how I’ll deal with a supermarket full of choices, running water whenever I want it, or any other amenity that I’ve been living without since arriving in Kenya. After living here for enough time, America seems, in retrospect, like an oversized theme park. It’s a place with comparatively little disease, it's clean and tidy, full of entertainment and interesting gadgets that make daily living nearly effortless. I actually find myself having a hard time believing I lived there less than six months ago. This will all make for a very interesting re-entry in roughly 21 months, but luckily there's quite a bit of time before I have to worry about that. For now, I’m more than happy with my new home, here in Kenya.
Friday, February 25, 2011
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
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!
(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).
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!
Thursday, February 10, 2011
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.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Gaining Momentum
Although Sipili is back to its usual dustbowl climate, on Monday morning I awoke to thick clouds hiding the sun, and trees swaying in a cool breeze. That weather was certainly a pleasant change from the usual scorching heat. These arid areas have been experiencing a bit of drought lately, but Sunday night we got a good dose of rain. I didn’t even mind that I heard each and every raindrop that hit my tin roof from 4-5:30 AM, because I knew we’d have water in the well and the crops wouldn’t fail. It’s comforting to feel such a connection to rain, to feel genuinely excited about water. Back in the US, rain just promises clean streets, a fresh smell and maybe some crazy drivers. But here it’s critical for survival.
Some time has passed since the bright, new beginning of the term, and life has settled into a bit of a routine. As I was discussing with my Mom during a much-needed phone call back home, this is the first time I’ve actually had time to settle down since before college. I’ve always been on the move, with a new town, a new home or a new room just a few months away. Now the reality of “2 years” is sinking in, and I still haven’t decided how I feel about that reality. It’s undeniably exciting, but it seems like a long time to be settled in one place.
The upside of settling (or “nesting,” as I like to call it) is that my house is becoming more and more like a home. Although the little girl next door recently broke my only chair by standing on it to see the spaghetti I was cooking for dinner, I have gained a small coffee table and a couch. My couch doesn’t have cushions yet, but I’m hopeful that I can find some in town within the next week. On one wall in my room I’ve hung cards and pictures from home on a piece of twine (Brutus Buckeye is featured twice already), a framed bible verse to remind me of my college community group days (I love and miss you girls!) and some Buddhist prayer beads that a dear friend gave to me before I boarded the plane in Anchorage. These things from home help me feel connected, the importance of which can’t be overstated.
School is increasingly rewarding and frustrating (I’m finding such contradictions to be common). The students are having a hard time grasping simple concepts, but they’re making every effort and at least are comfortable with me as their teacher. Some days when there are no other teachers around (another frustration altogether, explained later), I just sit with the classes and “story” with them. We talk about school, home life, their likes and dislikes, and whatever is on their mind. It helps me learn their signs, and also gives them a chance to freely express themselves. There’s not much of an opportunity for that otherwise. They’re particularly fascinated with airplanes. They see them occasionally in the sky and have seen them on TV, but have never been close enough to one to really know what they’re like. So, we talk about airplanes. A lot.
When the term began in early January, I was very excited to hit the ground running and teach as much as I could. I’m still excited about teaching, but I’m starting to encounter a problem that I already anticipate will be a constant battle over the next couple of years. During training we were warned that the other teachers may not share our enthusiasm for the job, so I thought I was prepared for that kind of attitude. At the beginning, I saw a little bit of that in my fellow teachers, but I was actually pleasantly surprised; they spoke a lot about their dedication to the job and displayed a mature understanding of the obstacles Deaf children face and what techniques should be employed to overcome them. However, while everyone is good at identifying issues and explaining how deal with them, actions ultimately speak louder than words. And inaction speaks the loudest. It’s not at all uncommon for me to go to the class I’m teaching, and to see my lesson from the previous day still on the board (meaning that a whole day has gone by without another lesson, even though they are supposed to have eight lessons per day). And it’s not terribly diplomatic for me, the young, foreign lady teacher with no previous experience, to call attention to the absence of other teachers for their lessons. Additionally, we have staff meetings during the school day, which prevents ANY of us from teaching during those times. On Monday, the headmaster called a staff meeting that was to last “5 minutes.” Over three hours later, we were finished, but we weren’t back to teaching – the headmaster sent the teachers out to deliver invitations to community members for a “Day of Thanksgiving” (for donations) on Friday (also to take place during scheduled class time). I politely refused and went to class, which is just about as forward as I can be about the lack of structured instruction time. And when visitors come to the school, all bets are off, too. The students “entertain” them and then go play until the visitors leave. There hasn’t yet been a day when every teacher has attended every class from the beginning until the end of the day. And during the times the teachers aren’t in class, the kids are running around, hitting each other with sticks because they don’t have a playground, toys or books. There’s nothing I want more than to help redirect time and money that the school has into resources for the kids, but it’s a struggle that has to start slowly. In the meantime, the best I can do is show up to all of MY scheduled classes, and, if I’m feeling brave, make a comment or two if I notice other people aren’t in their classes (or aren’t there on time).
Overall, my spirits are still high (most of the time), and the family next door to me is still SO supportive and helpful. I still have fresh fruit every day, and mango season is coming up! For those of you who sent mail/packages to the Nairobi address that I still haven’t received, I should be getting them by mid-February at the latest (when the APCD comes to visit my site). I’ll be sure to let people know when I get something from them so they know it wasn’t lost. And be patient with my replies – it’s been over a month since I’ve seen an OPEN post office… as we say over here, This Is Africa, or TIA for short :)
Some time has passed since the bright, new beginning of the term, and life has settled into a bit of a routine. As I was discussing with my Mom during a much-needed phone call back home, this is the first time I’ve actually had time to settle down since before college. I’ve always been on the move, with a new town, a new home or a new room just a few months away. Now the reality of “2 years” is sinking in, and I still haven’t decided how I feel about that reality. It’s undeniably exciting, but it seems like a long time to be settled in one place.
The upside of settling (or “nesting,” as I like to call it) is that my house is becoming more and more like a home. Although the little girl next door recently broke my only chair by standing on it to see the spaghetti I was cooking for dinner, I have gained a small coffee table and a couch. My couch doesn’t have cushions yet, but I’m hopeful that I can find some in town within the next week. On one wall in my room I’ve hung cards and pictures from home on a piece of twine (Brutus Buckeye is featured twice already), a framed bible verse to remind me of my college community group days (I love and miss you girls!) and some Buddhist prayer beads that a dear friend gave to me before I boarded the plane in Anchorage. These things from home help me feel connected, the importance of which can’t be overstated.
School is increasingly rewarding and frustrating (I’m finding such contradictions to be common). The students are having a hard time grasping simple concepts, but they’re making every effort and at least are comfortable with me as their teacher. Some days when there are no other teachers around (another frustration altogether, explained later), I just sit with the classes and “story” with them. We talk about school, home life, their likes and dislikes, and whatever is on their mind. It helps me learn their signs, and also gives them a chance to freely express themselves. There’s not much of an opportunity for that otherwise. They’re particularly fascinated with airplanes. They see them occasionally in the sky and have seen them on TV, but have never been close enough to one to really know what they’re like. So, we talk about airplanes. A lot.
When the term began in early January, I was very excited to hit the ground running and teach as much as I could. I’m still excited about teaching, but I’m starting to encounter a problem that I already anticipate will be a constant battle over the next couple of years. During training we were warned that the other teachers may not share our enthusiasm for the job, so I thought I was prepared for that kind of attitude. At the beginning, I saw a little bit of that in my fellow teachers, but I was actually pleasantly surprised; they spoke a lot about their dedication to the job and displayed a mature understanding of the obstacles Deaf children face and what techniques should be employed to overcome them. However, while everyone is good at identifying issues and explaining how deal with them, actions ultimately speak louder than words. And inaction speaks the loudest. It’s not at all uncommon for me to go to the class I’m teaching, and to see my lesson from the previous day still on the board (meaning that a whole day has gone by without another lesson, even though they are supposed to have eight lessons per day). And it’s not terribly diplomatic for me, the young, foreign lady teacher with no previous experience, to call attention to the absence of other teachers for their lessons. Additionally, we have staff meetings during the school day, which prevents ANY of us from teaching during those times. On Monday, the headmaster called a staff meeting that was to last “5 minutes.” Over three hours later, we were finished, but we weren’t back to teaching – the headmaster sent the teachers out to deliver invitations to community members for a “Day of Thanksgiving” (for donations) on Friday (also to take place during scheduled class time). I politely refused and went to class, which is just about as forward as I can be about the lack of structured instruction time. And when visitors come to the school, all bets are off, too. The students “entertain” them and then go play until the visitors leave. There hasn’t yet been a day when every teacher has attended every class from the beginning until the end of the day. And during the times the teachers aren’t in class, the kids are running around, hitting each other with sticks because they don’t have a playground, toys or books. There’s nothing I want more than to help redirect time and money that the school has into resources for the kids, but it’s a struggle that has to start slowly. In the meantime, the best I can do is show up to all of MY scheduled classes, and, if I’m feeling brave, make a comment or two if I notice other people aren’t in their classes (or aren’t there on time).
Overall, my spirits are still high (most of the time), and the family next door to me is still SO supportive and helpful. I still have fresh fruit every day, and mango season is coming up! For those of you who sent mail/packages to the Nairobi address that I still haven’t received, I should be getting them by mid-February at the latest (when the APCD comes to visit my site). I’ll be sure to let people know when I get something from them so they know it wasn’t lost. And be patient with my replies – it’s been over a month since I’ve seen an OPEN post office… as we say over here, This Is Africa, or TIA for short :)
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Learning
Since the last time I wrote, I traveled to Meru for New Years and met up with eight other PCVs for a much-needed weekend of relaxation, dancing, American food, decent wine (try finding that in Kenya), hot showers and an incredible hike to a really fantastic waterfall. After returning to Sipili, there was just enough time for a full day of laundry, some cooking and cleaning and then the first term of my teaching career in Kenya officially began! It's now been about a week and a half since the official start of the school year, but I’m already feeling at home in my school. Before I go further, it may help to give some context and provide specifics about my school – Sipili School for the Deaf used to be a unit within Lariak Day Primary School (located right next door to our compound). A few years ago, the Ministry of Education determined that there was a need for a separate school for Deaf students, so our school was constructed and the unit was upgraded. Since then the school has added classrooms, dormitories (allowing for more students to attend since they can lodge at school and don’t have to commute), a couple of cows, a borehole for water, and other accessories that help the school run smoothly. The school is sponsored by the St. Martin’s Catholic Church located in Nyahururu, and the small projects around the school have been funded by Italian or American donors who have come into contact with the headmaster of the school through the Church. There is still a need for better facilities, but as far as I can tell, the school is functioning relatively well, and there are quite a few projects in progress – the school is definitely growing. There are eight of us teachers total, five men and three women (myself included) and about 50 pupils here so far. On the first day of school we had a 5-hour staff meeting (it was a real marathon) where we discussed the year ahead, responsibilities each teacher would assume and the classes we would take on. I was assigned to 25 lessons a week (each lesson is 35 minutes long). I’ll be teaching class 5 mathematics (7 lessons/week), class 7 science, KSL (each 5 lessons/week) and Life Skills (1 lesson/week), and class 8 English (7 lessons/week). The Peace Corps staff members encouraged us to accept about 20 lessons per week during our first term, but that’s an impossibly low amount due to the number of teachers we have at the school. Two of the teachers are assigned to lower primary students all day, so the remaining five of us have to split up the rest of the lessons belonging to the other classes, and I ended up taking on a load similar to other teachers. In addition to classes, all of us teachers have additional responsibilities. I’m the co-director of “games” which just means after-school sports (football, netball, handball, cross-country running, etc.) and I’ll also be helping to teach a Tuesday afternoon KSL class to the other teachers, most of whom have no KSL training.
Many of the pupils have now arrived since we started planning and teaching. Last week consisted largely of splitting up classes, and constructing the timetable of who is teaching which lesson at what time (which took a lot longer than it should have, and had to be continually revised… but I’m the proud author of the final, official edition, which I crafted out of exasperation due to wasted time and eagerness to begin teaching) and this week has actually included some lesson time. Planning lessons is exhausting and teaching is already frustrating sometimes, but I really care about the students and want to see them improve. Teaching class 5 mathematics will probably be my real test, due to the variability of the students' abilities in that class. At this point they’re supposed to be able to write and name numbers up to tens of thousands, but in reality they aren’t able to consistently identify and spell the names of numbers one through ten. But I’ve been persistent with them, and I think some of them are improving – one girl loves to come up to me during break times and spell the number “seven” over and over. I just pray she is actually grasping the concept of what she’s spelling. The other classes will be tough too, but I think I can get concepts across if I focus on offering stimulating visual learning aides (THANK YOU Mom and Dad for sending markers!!) and remain patient with the pupils. Of course, that’s easier said than done.
Now, for those of you who are curious, I’ll explain a little bit about the Kenyan education system. The school year begins in January, and there are three one-month breaks in April, August and December that divide the year into three terms. School starts in “nursery” class, which is essentially kindergarten, and is followed by Primary School which consists of classes 1-8. For lower Primary (1-3), the students are in the classroom with one teacher the whole day (similar to our Elementary School system). Then, from class 4-8, students stay in the same class the whole day while the teachers travel from class to class, depending on the class and subject they are teaching. After Primary School, pupils go to Secondary School and attend form 1-4. This is essentially the same as our High School system. However, the most notable difference between the Kenyan system of education and the US system is the presence of compulsory national examinations at the end of class 8 and form 4 in Kenya. In Primary School, this exam is called the KCPE (Kenyan Certificate of Primary Education) and in Secondary School it’s called the KCSE (Kenyan Certificate of Secondary Education). Acquisition of these certificates proves that students have completed Primary and Secondary School at a satisfactory level. After Primary School, the pupils are tested in six subjects: English, Math, Science, Kiswahili (or KSL in the case of Deaf students), Social Studies, and C.R.E. (Christian Religious Education). I’m not sure about the specifics of Secondary School subjects, but I know they’re more specific and dependent on which track the student has chosen to study. Aside from providing proof of education, the KCPE and KCSE exam results are incredibly important. In both cases, the score of the exam is the sole parameter that future schools consider when accepting applicants. There are fewer Secondary Schools than Primary Schools, and fewer Secondary Schools than Universities in Kenya, so not every student can continue their education all the way through University level of study. This puts a lot of pressure on young students to perform well on the exams in order to get into a good Secondary School/University, or even continue their education at all. This also inevitably results in a lack of concern for any subject that is not on the exam (like creative arts, physical education, life skills, etc.) and ridiculously long school hours for students who are about to take the exams. My host sister in Machakos took her KCPE exam while I was there, and in the weeks leading up until the test, she was reviewing the material at school from 6:30 AM until dark.
It’s a bit frustrating to be constrained by such a rigid syllabus that follows the test, especially in Deaf Education. Even though many of the pupils at schools for the Deaf have little to no language comprehension in KSL (let alone English) because their parents don’t know KSL, these kids are subjected to the same exams as children in hearing schools. Additionally, many Deaf learners don’t go to school right when they’re eligible. There is still a lot of stigma surrounding Deafness in Kenya, so many parents hide their children away and keep them as workers in the kitchen or the farm once it’s discovered that they’re Deaf. When (or if) these kids eventually do end up at school, they have very limited language, social and critical thinking skills, so there is a constant effort to get them caught up (as I mentioned with my class 5 math class). Finally, KSL is a very young language. British, American and Belgian sign languages were brought to Kenya by missionaries and were used in different regions of the country until, recently, the Kenyan Deaf Community decided that it was more appropriate to have their own uniquely Kenyan sign language. This was followed by research efforts to determine what signs are used by Kenyans (aside from the European/American impositions) and now a decent compilation of signs has emerged. However, many signs still have regional variations (we have three KSL dictionaries in our staff room at school that vary in many cases) and the vocabulary is quite limited. That being said, it’s difficult to teach abstract concepts like “human rights” or “social values” to students who are Deaf when much of the pertinent vocabulary is not yet defined in KSL.
Despite these roadblocks and seemingly insurmountable challenges that these kids face, I am amazed on a daily basis by just how bright the students are and how eager they are to learn. They love to “story” (carry on long, animated conversations with signs), play games and create jewelery, toys and hats out of grass. They are good-natured and smile almost all the time, are compassionate with one another, can communicate on a level that I’ve yet to master, and behave like one big family. They have responded well to having a new, young, strangely pale teacher around, and continue to patiently help me learn their regional dialect of KSL. I am humbled whenever I realize how much more these kids will teach me than I ever could teach them. But not for lack of trying - tomorrow is another day, and I have lessons to plan. Maybe I can get class 5 to count to ten, and maybe not - but at least I can show up, struggle with them, and hopefully communicate how awesome I think they are. I think I know the sign for that.
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Home Sweet Home
Merry Belated Christmas to everyone, and a Happy Early New Year (since I have no idea if I’ll have a chance to post an update before then). I’m safe and sound in Sipili, Kenya, in my new home and community, and I’m getting settled “slowly by slowly” (as the Kenyans say). It's typically dusty and hot, but there were some refreshing rains yesterday (I have a new appreciation for the Toto lyric "I bless the rains down in Africa"). There is one other Peace Corps volunteer here, and her name is Jessica– we traveled here together from Nairobi with her supervisor. She’s a Math/Science Education volunteer, which means she was training in Loitokitok while I was in Machakos with the Deaf Education group.
The journey here on December 16th was long, but not unbearable. Jessica, her supervisor and I took a matatu from Nairobi to Nyahururu, which took about three hours, and then took another matatu from Nyahururu, through Kinamba (where the paved road or “tarmac” ends) and on the dirt road eight more kilometers into Sipili. The second leg took about two hours. It was early afternoon when we arrived – first we went to Jessica’s house and had lunch and tea. It was so hard to be patient during lunch and introductions with the family on her compound since I was so anxious to see my place. I would have been more restless, but I was too exhausted from the journey, which was only exacerbated by the fact that I’d gotten no sleep the night before. A group of us newly sworn-in volunteers opted to go out dancing in Nairobi instead of packing and sleeping in preparation for the journey ahead. Even though I was lethargic during our trip, dancing was not a regrettable decision.
After getting Jessica settled, we walked the 2-3 kilometers to my house (with luggage in tow) and I was finally able to see my place. As I mentioned before, my house is on a family compound, and the family I’m staying with is amazing. Their house is about 15 feet from mine, and the family’s kitchen is between our two houses. The kitchen is actually really cool – it has a brick stove contraption with fire under a metal grate when you can place a pot (called a sufuria in Kenya) on top for cooking. It reminds me of cooking over a campfire, and it’s a nice place to sit with the other people in the family even though I don't cook there myself. Luckily, my house is just perfect for me! It has a bright blue door, and red cement floor. There are two rooms, each with a little window and surprisingly charming curtains. One room has a little table with a gas stove with two burners, and the other room has my bed, a small table and chair, and a corner that is portioned off with plywood for bathing. Some carpenters came over the other day to take measurements for a few more pieces of furniture I need (especially a wardrobe – my clothes are currently stacked on the table in my room rendering it useless) and that will hopefully built and installed within the next couple of weeks. When I first saw my place there was no electricity, but since then I’ve had two lights installed in the house that are powered by a solar panel on the roof of the main house. The solar panel isn’t strong enough to provide power to an outlet so there’s no way to charge anything, but Jessica’s house has an outlet so I charge my phone over there. Also, there’s no running water, but that was the case in Machakos so I’m a pro at living without pipes.
During the first day here we also took a tour of the garden/farm ("shamba" in Kiswahili) that the family I’m living with owns. It’s absolutely incredible. The family compound sits between the two parts of the shamba; one part has mostly maize, and the other part is FULL of fruits and vegetables. I bet you can guess which part is my favorite. I love walking through the rows of fruits, picking a pineapple or passionfruit if it looks ripe, wondering when the mangoes will be ready, snapping off a piece of sugarcane and gnawing on it while I guess which plants are cowpeas or black beans or soybeans. It’s like a free grocery store that’s always stocked and always fresh. There are even fruits that I’d never heard of or tasted before (tree tomatoes are rapidly becoming a new favorite of mine). The family has graciously offered to let me take anything I want from the shamba, since it’s so big and plentiful. The father of the family takes care of the shamba almost exclusively, and he’s trying to get people in the community to plant more fruits since they’re heartier than some of the traditional crops. His idea is that a shift to that kind of farming would provide more food security in this region which is typically quite arid. He and his wife both have a very community-minded outlook, and they’re very focused on helping people help themselves. He was actually instrumental in applying for a Peace Corps volunteer for both the secondary school (Jessica) and for the school for the deaf (myself). It's really amazing to be surrounded by a forward-thinking, self-sustaining, happy and friendly family. And the three kids are adorable and incredibly helpful in helping me navigate my new surroundings.
Since the first days here, I’ve been able to explore a bit. I’ve traveled with Jessica into Nyahururu a couple of times since we arrived to get supplies that we can’t get in Sipili (since it’s pretty remote). One of the trips was especially comical; it involved me bringing an empty 15 kg gas can (for my stove) into town and bringing a full one back to Sipili. Of course it’s huge, metal and unmanageable, and I already stick out wherever I go here in Kenya by virtue of my skin color. But I dragged that sucker through Sipili, onto the matatu, through Nyahururu and back. It was totally worth it too, because now I can cook for myself and heat my own bathwater. Self-sufficiency and reclaimed independence is one of the best parts of settling into a home, since we were forced to rely so heavily on other people during training.
School doesn’t start until the 4th of January, so there is a lot of down time between now and then. The following is a list of things (aside from wandering in the shamba, as I mentioned) that keep me entertained in the meantime:
1. Reading. I have read two and a half books over the past week – A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius by Dave Eggers (not bad for a memoir), Cat’s Cradle by Kurt Vonnegut (finally, I’d been meaning to read that one for a long time ) and half of Dr. Zhivago by Boris Pasternak (SO GOOD).
2. Writing. Each night I write until my hand hurts so I can keep my mind sharp, because I have noticed that somehow I’m losing some English. All the volunteers who have been here for about a year say that it’s inevitable, but I’m hoping to stave it off. I’m not exactly sure why it’s happening since I’m speaking English all the time (I’m not good enough at Kiswahili yet to effectively converse), but it’s happening.
3. Watching the animals around the compound. The family here has dogs, cats and chickens, and there are little kittens and chicks hiding in woodpiles and bushes, so it’s a good diversion to go searching for them and watch them do whatever cute things kittens and chicks do once they’re found.
4. Catching frogs. The frogs come out at night, and most evenings I have about three in my house (somehow). I’m nervous that they’ll make a mess or die overnight while I’m sleeping, so it’s a nightly ritual to find them with my headlamp (they get scared and freeze when I shine light on them), usher them into a paper bag and put them outside. It’s a pretty adorable infestation, honestly. Way better than rats or cockroaches or something.
5. Wandering around Sipili town. Although there is really only one main road, one store that could be considered a supermarket/general store and a smattering of other flour mills/milk bars/convenience stores, it’s nice to get out and see the people in town and hopefully get people used to a mzungu wandering around their town.
Otherwise, life is pretty calm here in Sipili. Christmas was like any other day (except my family slaughtered two chickens, and the kids chased each other around with the heads and entrails), and there is a slow, easy pace to life. Even more than in Machakos. But that’s what I was expecting, and I’m enjoying it more every day. The next exciting step will be when school begins. I can’t wait to meet the students, not to mention my fellow teachers! I’ve seen the school, but no one is there yet. In just over a week it will be completely full of kids, and I can hardly wait. Between now and then, I’ll travel out of site for New Years and travel back just a couple of days before school begins. I’ll be sure to update shortly after school starts and share my impressions.
The journey here on December 16th was long, but not unbearable. Jessica, her supervisor and I took a matatu from Nairobi to Nyahururu, which took about three hours, and then took another matatu from Nyahururu, through Kinamba (where the paved road or “tarmac” ends) and on the dirt road eight more kilometers into Sipili. The second leg took about two hours. It was early afternoon when we arrived – first we went to Jessica’s house and had lunch and tea. It was so hard to be patient during lunch and introductions with the family on her compound since I was so anxious to see my place. I would have been more restless, but I was too exhausted from the journey, which was only exacerbated by the fact that I’d gotten no sleep the night before. A group of us newly sworn-in volunteers opted to go out dancing in Nairobi instead of packing and sleeping in preparation for the journey ahead. Even though I was lethargic during our trip, dancing was not a regrettable decision.
After getting Jessica settled, we walked the 2-3 kilometers to my house (with luggage in tow) and I was finally able to see my place. As I mentioned before, my house is on a family compound, and the family I’m staying with is amazing. Their house is about 15 feet from mine, and the family’s kitchen is between our two houses. The kitchen is actually really cool – it has a brick stove contraption with fire under a metal grate when you can place a pot (called a sufuria in Kenya) on top for cooking. It reminds me of cooking over a campfire, and it’s a nice place to sit with the other people in the family even though I don't cook there myself. Luckily, my house is just perfect for me! It has a bright blue door, and red cement floor. There are two rooms, each with a little window and surprisingly charming curtains. One room has a little table with a gas stove with two burners, and the other room has my bed, a small table and chair, and a corner that is portioned off with plywood for bathing. Some carpenters came over the other day to take measurements for a few more pieces of furniture I need (especially a wardrobe – my clothes are currently stacked on the table in my room rendering it useless) and that will hopefully built and installed within the next couple of weeks. When I first saw my place there was no electricity, but since then I’ve had two lights installed in the house that are powered by a solar panel on the roof of the main house. The solar panel isn’t strong enough to provide power to an outlet so there’s no way to charge anything, but Jessica’s house has an outlet so I charge my phone over there. Also, there’s no running water, but that was the case in Machakos so I’m a pro at living without pipes.
During the first day here we also took a tour of the garden/farm ("shamba" in Kiswahili) that the family I’m living with owns. It’s absolutely incredible. The family compound sits between the two parts of the shamba; one part has mostly maize, and the other part is FULL of fruits and vegetables. I bet you can guess which part is my favorite. I love walking through the rows of fruits, picking a pineapple or passionfruit if it looks ripe, wondering when the mangoes will be ready, snapping off a piece of sugarcane and gnawing on it while I guess which plants are cowpeas or black beans or soybeans. It’s like a free grocery store that’s always stocked and always fresh. There are even fruits that I’d never heard of or tasted before (tree tomatoes are rapidly becoming a new favorite of mine). The family has graciously offered to let me take anything I want from the shamba, since it’s so big and plentiful. The father of the family takes care of the shamba almost exclusively, and he’s trying to get people in the community to plant more fruits since they’re heartier than some of the traditional crops. His idea is that a shift to that kind of farming would provide more food security in this region which is typically quite arid. He and his wife both have a very community-minded outlook, and they’re very focused on helping people help themselves. He was actually instrumental in applying for a Peace Corps volunteer for both the secondary school (Jessica) and for the school for the deaf (myself). It's really amazing to be surrounded by a forward-thinking, self-sustaining, happy and friendly family. And the three kids are adorable and incredibly helpful in helping me navigate my new surroundings.
Since the first days here, I’ve been able to explore a bit. I’ve traveled with Jessica into Nyahururu a couple of times since we arrived to get supplies that we can’t get in Sipili (since it’s pretty remote). One of the trips was especially comical; it involved me bringing an empty 15 kg gas can (for my stove) into town and bringing a full one back to Sipili. Of course it’s huge, metal and unmanageable, and I already stick out wherever I go here in Kenya by virtue of my skin color. But I dragged that sucker through Sipili, onto the matatu, through Nyahururu and back. It was totally worth it too, because now I can cook for myself and heat my own bathwater. Self-sufficiency and reclaimed independence is one of the best parts of settling into a home, since we were forced to rely so heavily on other people during training.
School doesn’t start until the 4th of January, so there is a lot of down time between now and then. The following is a list of things (aside from wandering in the shamba, as I mentioned) that keep me entertained in the meantime:
1. Reading. I have read two and a half books over the past week – A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius by Dave Eggers (not bad for a memoir), Cat’s Cradle by Kurt Vonnegut (finally, I’d been meaning to read that one for a long time ) and half of Dr. Zhivago by Boris Pasternak (SO GOOD).
2. Writing. Each night I write until my hand hurts so I can keep my mind sharp, because I have noticed that somehow I’m losing some English. All the volunteers who have been here for about a year say that it’s inevitable, but I’m hoping to stave it off. I’m not exactly sure why it’s happening since I’m speaking English all the time (I’m not good enough at Kiswahili yet to effectively converse), but it’s happening.
3. Watching the animals around the compound. The family here has dogs, cats and chickens, and there are little kittens and chicks hiding in woodpiles and bushes, so it’s a good diversion to go searching for them and watch them do whatever cute things kittens and chicks do once they’re found.
4. Catching frogs. The frogs come out at night, and most evenings I have about three in my house (somehow). I’m nervous that they’ll make a mess or die overnight while I’m sleeping, so it’s a nightly ritual to find them with my headlamp (they get scared and freeze when I shine light on them), usher them into a paper bag and put them outside. It’s a pretty adorable infestation, honestly. Way better than rats or cockroaches or something.
5. Wandering around Sipili town. Although there is really only one main road, one store that could be considered a supermarket/general store and a smattering of other flour mills/milk bars/convenience stores, it’s nice to get out and see the people in town and hopefully get people used to a mzungu wandering around their town.
Otherwise, life is pretty calm here in Sipili. Christmas was like any other day (except my family slaughtered two chickens, and the kids chased each other around with the heads and entrails), and there is a slow, easy pace to life. Even more than in Machakos. But that’s what I was expecting, and I’m enjoying it more every day. The next exciting step will be when school begins. I can’t wait to meet the students, not to mention my fellow teachers! I’ve seen the school, but no one is there yet. In just over a week it will be completely full of kids, and I can hardly wait. Between now and then, I’ll travel out of site for New Years and travel back just a couple of days before school begins. I’ll be sure to update shortly after school starts and share my impressions.
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