I know I have said this is the past, but whoa is Kenya an emotional roller coaster. Let me tell you about my day today. The day didn’t begin with the best start. I was awoken by my neighbour’s blaring alarm clock at 5 am. Normally, I would have slept through this, but today, for some reason, the Kenyan version of yodeling music came screeching through my windows. I then woke up did the normal routine and started to get a migraine. I know I do not deal well with pain (ask my mother), so I popped a strong painkiller. I was feeling much better, but 45 minutes later when I reached school the nausea/ drowsiness kicked in. To rid myself of the awful mental forecast of barfing up partially digested sukuma wiki and ugali, I asked my principal if I could rest in her house.
Right as I was drifting into my painkiller induced sleep and away from its nauseating side effects, a fellow teacher barged into the house. Her darling newborn daughter Mercy just would not stop crying in the staff room so she brought her to rest in Matilda’s house. My colleague urged me to continue sleeping, but the wails of her newborn were not exactly reminiscent of a soothing lullaby. So, begrudged, I sat up on the couch where the teacher joined me. She began breast feeding her daughter (which thankfully meant the screaming stopped). But, to my shock and horror, I was soon being squirted all over with breast milk because apparently, baby Mercy cannot handle a fast stream of milk. Rather than yell my initial reaction of “Oh my god this is disgusting!” I tried my hardest to mask my insensitivity with just a slight grimace. The teacher’s apology of “Oh sorry, sorry, now you’re going to smell like breast milk” really did not make me feel better. So I returned, still nauseas, still headache-y, still tired, and newly smelling of breast milk, to the staff room. One of the teachers used the phrase “It’s as easy as beating a woman” which spurred the one sided debate of why, indeed, it is easy to beat women. I did not have the energy, patience, or self control to argue at that point. I knew that if I opened my mouth a river of culturally inappropriate things would flow out (why the patriarchal society clearly is not working, why polygamy is ridiculous and killing Kenyans with increased AIDS transmissions, why it is unfair that women work so hard, why Kenyan men, in my opinion, are completely and utterly useless beings) So I kept my mouth shut. As I sat holding my throbbing head I really wished I had Dorothy’s sequined ruby red slippers. Not just so I could add to my tiny shoe collection, but to tap my heels together and go home. Ok, maybe not home, but anywhere BUT here-where men think it’s okay to hit their wives, where a mountain of papers need grading, and where I reek of breast milk.
I put my head down, powered through my paperwork, and miraculously finished my work in order to leave my staff room and regain my sanity. But as I was giddily putting on my backpack to make the trek back home, I felt a raindrop on my head. I look up just as the sky turns black, lightening begins, and thunder roars off in the distance. Great. As the rains pour down, I return to my desk to wait it out. I was wishing for all sorts of magically powers during that time- a teleporter, a magical bubble to protect me from the ferocious Kenyan rain, a flying avatar like bird that could fly me back above the clouds to my house. But, alas, my fantasies and wishes did not come true. And when the rain finally did stop, FIVE hours later, I trudged through feet of mud and forged newly formed rivers to arrive home. And as I sit here, half amused at my misfortune and half seething with self pity, I wonder how people come out of the Peace Corps after riding this emotional roller coaster. Am I going to have some weird Mefloquine induced form of bipolar disorder? How can one day be so wonderful and the next so disastrous?
I know tomorrow’s sunshine will dry the rivers and ease the mud, a good nights’ sleep will appease my headache, and some serious bucket bathing will get rid of the strange smell of breast milk. But what, I seriously wonder, can realistically change the Kenyan male’s view of women? How can a culturally, religiously, socially ingrained opinion of females be altered? While behaviour change, unlike my moods, cannot be drastically transformed overnight, I wonder if two years is sufficient time to make some difference. Because tomorrow, as my one-woman car goes up the emotional roller coaster, I’m returning to the staff room fully armed, headache free, to argue with these men.
Monday, April 5, 2010
Friday, March 19, 2010
Burning Trash
I’ve often heard that smell is the most sensitive sensory organ, evoking vivid memories with just one inhale. Like how the scent of pumpkin pie and roasting turkey brings back thoughts of Thanksgiving. Or how the smell of Water Babies sunscreen gives me flashbacks of summers spent by the Swim and Racquet poolside. Or how the distinct aroma of salt and sand reminds me of lounging on Hawaiian beaches. Well, the smell that brought back memories for me today was the specific scent of burning trash. The smell of burning plastic gave me flashbacks of the developing worlds that I have lived, worked, and travelled in. Before this moment, I hadn’t really thought there was a distinguishing characteristic that tied all of these countries together. But as I stoked my burning pile of trash this morning, I had images of rural countries flash through my mind; trekking through El Capulin in Nicaragua, or exploring the Kuna Yala Islands of Panama, or back to my first extended stay in a developing nation, La Providencia de Napoles in Mexico. While the smell of burning trash might evoke images of a deteriorating ozone layer or a grimy slum to others, the smell is nostalgic to me. When I get a whiff of smoking trash I get visions of the amazing people I’ve met through out my travels (adorable kids, my favourite Nicaraguan grandmother, Fanny, my host mom in Mexico, Charo) the unforgettable sights I’ve been lucky enough to see (the view from the top of Volcan Mombacho, the frosted peaks of Mt. Kilimanjaro, the untouched beaches of Mozambique) , the exotic foods I’ve been able to try (Zimbabwean mopane worms, South African zebra) and all the good times I had throughout. So as I stand here, watching the remains of my weeks trash smoulder in smoke and turn to ash, I breathe in (yes I know it’s carcinogenic!) and remember the memories. That’s why I, strangely, enjoy the smell of burning trash.
Saturday, March 13, 2010
Kupiga Picha
Hi friends and family,
Here are some pictures of my life in Kenya
This is me pumping water at the borehole behind my house. People from all over the community come to pump water from this tap because it has "the cleanest water in all of the district" according to my babu. It's convenient to have a water supply close to my house, but I still don't enjoy carrying water. Maybe it would be easier if I was like the Kenyans who can carry huge jugs of water (and anything else for that matter) balanced on their heads.
This is one of my students, Leah, and her niece. She took me on a hike near her house where there was a beautiful view of Lake Victoria. Can you see it in the background? Prior to this day, I had no idea that I could see the lake from my community!
This is at Leah's house where her mother was teaching me how to make place mats out of banana leaves. Kenyans are very resourceful- I often have moments where I think "ahhhh why didn't I think of that!" I had a great afternoon eating bananas from the tree and weaving banana leaf place mats.
Here I am making chapatti. Leah's mother taught me a "secret" recipe that makes the most delicious chapatti I've had in Kenya! I told her that I would bring her recipe back to America and start a chappati craze in the states (seriously it could be the next korean taco truck phenomenon!) and name the restaurant Rosemary's Chapatti stand.
Here are some of my students at their Cross Country competition. They did very well, and our school was ranked 3rd out of 19 schools. Not bad for our first year competing!
I invited a Public Health volunteer to come to my school and answer my student's health questions. They have lots of good questions and no where to get the answers (they can't turn to the internet to find a solution to an embarrassing question about adolescence). So here they are at an outdoor assembly listening and participating in a HIV/STI discussion.
These are some other Peace Corps volunteers and me during a night out in Kisumu Town. We decided to meet in town to not only enjoy one another's company, but to take advantage of the hot showers and delicious (non Kenyan) variety of foods that Kisumu has to offer! Here, we're at a restaurant called the Laughing Buddha which has indian food, pizza, hookah, cheesecake, and a dessert called the sizzling brownie..mmmm
Here is my friend Whitney and I at her sight near Bomet. Myself and a few other volunteers went to visit her site and meet her students. It was interesting to see another volunteer's sight in comparison to mine. We all have very different living situations and schools.
During our visit to Whitney's site in Bomet, our afternoon hike was interrupted by a torrential downpour. We took shelter in a small shack until the rains subsided. While our smiles might say otherwise, we were completely drenched and cold.
During my stay in Kenya I have frequently seen some sights that make me laugh...this being one of them. This is a picture of a matatu "van" that I often use to travel in. This one has a rooftop of live chickens. They were all alive and flapping their wings as the matatu drove by.
K hope you enjoyed these pictures! Love you all!
-Jenny
Here are some pictures of my life in Kenya
This is me pumping water at the borehole behind my house. People from all over the community come to pump water from this tap because it has "the cleanest water in all of the district" according to my babu. It's convenient to have a water supply close to my house, but I still don't enjoy carrying water. Maybe it would be easier if I was like the Kenyans who can carry huge jugs of water (and anything else for that matter) balanced on their heads.
This is one of my students, Leah, and her niece. She took me on a hike near her house where there was a beautiful view of Lake Victoria. Can you see it in the background? Prior to this day, I had no idea that I could see the lake from my community!
This is at Leah's house where her mother was teaching me how to make place mats out of banana leaves. Kenyans are very resourceful- I often have moments where I think "ahhhh why didn't I think of that!" I had a great afternoon eating bananas from the tree and weaving banana leaf place mats.
Here I am making chapatti. Leah's mother taught me a "secret" recipe that makes the most delicious chapatti I've had in Kenya! I told her that I would bring her recipe back to America and start a chappati craze in the states (seriously it could be the next korean taco truck phenomenon!) and name the restaurant Rosemary's Chapatti stand.
Here are some of my students at their Cross Country competition. They did very well, and our school was ranked 3rd out of 19 schools. Not bad for our first year competing!
I invited a Public Health volunteer to come to my school and answer my student's health questions. They have lots of good questions and no where to get the answers (they can't turn to the internet to find a solution to an embarrassing question about adolescence). So here they are at an outdoor assembly listening and participating in a HIV/STI discussion.
These are some other Peace Corps volunteers and me during a night out in Kisumu Town. We decided to meet in town to not only enjoy one another's company, but to take advantage of the hot showers and delicious (non Kenyan) variety of foods that Kisumu has to offer! Here, we're at a restaurant called the Laughing Buddha which has indian food, pizza, hookah, cheesecake, and a dessert called the sizzling brownie..mmmm
Here is my friend Whitney and I at her sight near Bomet. Myself and a few other volunteers went to visit her site and meet her students. It was interesting to see another volunteer's sight in comparison to mine. We all have very different living situations and schools.
During our visit to Whitney's site in Bomet, our afternoon hike was interrupted by a torrential downpour. We took shelter in a small shack until the rains subsided. While our smiles might say otherwise, we were completely drenched and cold.
During my stay in Kenya I have frequently seen some sights that make me laugh...this being one of them. This is a picture of a matatu "van" that I often use to travel in. This one has a rooftop of live chickens. They were all alive and flapping their wings as the matatu drove by.
K hope you enjoyed these pictures! Love you all!
-Jenny
Friday, March 12, 2010
2012
Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about what I want to do after the Peace Corps. Yes, I realise that it’s two years away (and yes, I realise that my spelling is in British English, but that’s my Microsoft word is programmed now!). But still, thinking about the future helps me sometimes, especially when the days are treacherously long. Imagining the time when I will have running water and constant electricity makes me a little less homesick. I, unlike many of my fellow community members, have the knowledge that this life is temporary. That I will eventually return back to America to daily showers (ok, who am I kidding? Bi-weekly showers) and having the luxury of dishwashers and laundry machines at my fingertips. These are futures that all my students and neighbours dream of, but will they ever get there?
This makes me wonder, what is it that I really want for my future anyways? I’ve thought a lot about grad school or continuing to work with international organizations like the Peace Corps. I’ve even thought about, on a good day of course, extending my service to stay in Kenya for three years. But after my stay here, will I go back to the US and finally settle down as David puts it? Not the settle down, like get married settle down, but the settle down like live in one place longer than a few years. (I’ve been hopping from continent to continent, country to country since before I can remember). But the truth is, I don’t think I can. Maybe it’s because I crave the adventure of living abroad. Won’t my life be boring if I don’t have to take my battle pose against the giant creatures that occupy my room before I go to bed? (I killed a giant hairy fanged spider last night) Won’t I get tired of speaking English everyday? And above all, won’t I miss the knowledge of knowing that every morning when I wake up it is going to be a new learning experience? I’m not saying that every job in America is boring. I just cannot imagine myself feeling fulfilled after a 9 to 5 day at the corporate office. I know I complain a lot (I can check back at my old blogs and read about my whining over lack of running water), but in reality, I love my life here. Living here is my life now, and sure there are days when the novelty wears off, but overall I’m comfortable just living here. Today, a community member told me, in dhoLuo and translated through my friend Emmah, that I’m part of the community now and I need to learn the language. I was flattered that he called me part of the community, up until now, I’ve been referred to as the “visitor” or “mzungu.” His comment really sunk in the fact that I am here, right now. And no matter if I have times when all I can think about is life in America, I’m part of the community and I need to mentally be here. I think I need to work on “staying present” as the director of my study abroad Cape Town program used to say. I need to learn to stay in the moment and appreciate the everyday experiences of life here. I want to learn the local language. I want to try those gross little dried fish that everyone here claims are “tamu sana” or very sweet. I want to laugh at myself when I slip in the foot deep puddles of mud. And I want to savour the moments, good and bad, that I know will last me a lifetime.
I guess I look towards the future when life gets tough here. And that’s ok. But I also can’t overlook the fact that I should be appreciating the days that I have here as well. I quote from the book I just finished, puts it in good words:
“So if she were granted one small wish, perhaps it would only have been not to know. Not to know what each day held in store for her. Not to know where she might be, next month, next year. Ten years on. Not to know which way her road might turn and what lay beyond the bend” The God of Small Things
Night,
Jenny
This makes me wonder, what is it that I really want for my future anyways? I’ve thought a lot about grad school or continuing to work with international organizations like the Peace Corps. I’ve even thought about, on a good day of course, extending my service to stay in Kenya for three years. But after my stay here, will I go back to the US and finally settle down as David puts it? Not the settle down, like get married settle down, but the settle down like live in one place longer than a few years. (I’ve been hopping from continent to continent, country to country since before I can remember). But the truth is, I don’t think I can. Maybe it’s because I crave the adventure of living abroad. Won’t my life be boring if I don’t have to take my battle pose against the giant creatures that occupy my room before I go to bed? (I killed a giant hairy fanged spider last night) Won’t I get tired of speaking English everyday? And above all, won’t I miss the knowledge of knowing that every morning when I wake up it is going to be a new learning experience? I’m not saying that every job in America is boring. I just cannot imagine myself feeling fulfilled after a 9 to 5 day at the corporate office. I know I complain a lot (I can check back at my old blogs and read about my whining over lack of running water), but in reality, I love my life here. Living here is my life now, and sure there are days when the novelty wears off, but overall I’m comfortable just living here. Today, a community member told me, in dhoLuo and translated through my friend Emmah, that I’m part of the community now and I need to learn the language. I was flattered that he called me part of the community, up until now, I’ve been referred to as the “visitor” or “mzungu.” His comment really sunk in the fact that I am here, right now. And no matter if I have times when all I can think about is life in America, I’m part of the community and I need to mentally be here. I think I need to work on “staying present” as the director of my study abroad Cape Town program used to say. I need to learn to stay in the moment and appreciate the everyday experiences of life here. I want to learn the local language. I want to try those gross little dried fish that everyone here claims are “tamu sana” or very sweet. I want to laugh at myself when I slip in the foot deep puddles of mud. And I want to savour the moments, good and bad, that I know will last me a lifetime.
I guess I look towards the future when life gets tough here. And that’s ok. But I also can’t overlook the fact that I should be appreciating the days that I have here as well. I quote from the book I just finished, puts it in good words:
“So if she were granted one small wish, perhaps it would only have been not to know. Not to know what each day held in store for her. Not to know where she might be, next month, next year. Ten years on. Not to know which way her road might turn and what lay beyond the bend” The God of Small Things
Night,
Jenny
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Teacher on Duty
Teacher, teacher! I see the vena cava! It’s moments of true understanding, like a student’s excitement at seeing a heart dissection, that make the long, often 14 hour, days worthwhile. This is the end of my Teacher on Duty week, where I have been the teacher responsible for everything that goes on at the school compound. I’ve been waking up at 5 am, leaving my house before sunrise (which results in me often slipping in the mud- and to my great misfortune cow pies) and stay at school until after sunset. I don’t think that I have ever worked this hard in my life. I go to sleep exhausted, but fulfilled. But the long hours are wrecking havoc on my cleanliness. I’ve been trying to ignore the disgusting pile of dishes that I have to wash and that I know are a breeding ground for the already growing colony of cockroaches in my house. I’ve been putting off washing my clothes because it just takes me so gosh-darn-long to pump and carry water. And when decided whether it’s more important to cook or heat my bath water, unfortunately for those around me, eating takes priority. I’ve decided that cooking takes too much effort so I have resorted to Peace Corps cuisine which includes crackers and jam and ramen. I’ve concocted all sorts of one-pot dinners like rice and lentils or kale and plaintains (Would Ina Garten hail my ingenuity or abhor my laziness?) Either way, I am glad that this long week has finally come to an end. At least next week I can sleep in until 6:30am! (Wow, how things have changed since my college days!).
Tears on my pillow
I cry myself to sleep a lot. Not because I’m sad or homesick (which sometimes does happen), but there are moments when I cannot believe the poverty that surrounds me. With such extreme poverty, there are cultural and social repercussions. It is a male dominated society. Wives are inherited by the deceased’s brothers. Men beat their wives. And what breaks my heart the most is parents beat their children. One of my students missed a week of her exams because her guardian beat her so hard she bled continuously for days. When my Form 4 students did poorly on their exams, they were caned, because as my principal said, “Some Africans only understand the word of the cane.” It’s psychologically draining to constantly see kids hit, puppies whacked, and wives with bruised faces. What can I do when it is so culturally ingrained in people’s minds that physical punishment is acceptable? Am I insane to think that I can make a difference here? In a society that does not value women's rights nor choice, how can I make an impact? Do I turn a blind eye to corporal punishment because it is “just part of the culture?” And what do I tell my student, who has no one else to turn to, when she asks me what to do about her abusive guardian? These are the questions that fill my head as I get into bed each night and because I have yet to find a solution, I cry myself to sleep.
Thursday, February 18, 2010
A Few Updates...
Living in a foreign country has its extreme ups and downs. There are times when I am ecstatic to be here and think that every little detail of my life is amazing. Sometimes I enjoy pumping water, the long walk to school, and all the children that are constantly trying to touch my “white” skin. Then there are other times when it is too hot. And all I want is a cold shower and/or a pool to cool down and the last thing I want to do is cross a blazing hot field to get to work. Today, all I could think about was how much I missed a dishwasher. I don’t quite understand why all of my emotions seem to be amplified tenfold. Maybe it’s the Mefloquine. Maybe it’s still me adjusting to a new environment. Either way, now I know what it is like to experience menopausal mood swings.
I had a really enjoyable weekend in Kisumu. I ate a ton of delicious pizza (although still not as yummy as T-birds), went swimming at a hotel (amazing!), drank lots of cold Tusker beer, consumed a month’s worth of ice cream, and did some serious second hand shopping (I was getting real tired of wearing the same 5 skirts!). I had lots of fun comparing embarrassing stories, choo nightmares, and other moments that only other Peace Corps volunteers can relate to. While my original intention of going to town was to watch the Superbowl, I couldn’t even stay awake to watch it (it started at 2am here- way past my 10pm bedtime). We found a hookah lounge, watched American TV (well, kind of, the first season of America’s Got Talent was on), and saw a movie (Avatar = best movie ever). And to top off an amazing weekend, I finally received my Christmas & birthday presents from the states. I was so happy to receive lots of goodies from friends and family (Twizzlers, Godiva chocolate, and magazines can really cure any homesickness!) So thank you Mom, Dad, Joni, David, and Melissa!
I returned to Magwar refreshed and ready to teach. I missed my students. And I missed the rural life. I missed everyone greeting me in dhoLuo (even though I don’t understand anything they say, I still appreciate the effort).
One excited event of the week was that I started a sanitary napkin making project at the school. As I mentioned earlier, many of the students said that availability of sanitary napkins was a daily challenge. They are simply too expensive for many students to afford. Some students use old blankets, dirty clothes, leaves, or do not come to school at all. I brainstormed sustainable solutions and thought I would try making pads from cotton and gauze. I contacted a nurse in Kisumu who took me to purchase the supplies necessary and taught me how to make them (it’s really quite easy!). Yesterday, I taught my students how to make them and they all were enthusiastic about the project. When I enquired if any would be willing to help me sell them, every hand in the classroom was raised! The materials to make approximately 100+ sanitary pads costs 690 shillings (about ten dollars). We’ll be selling them to the students for 6 shillings each which is less than half the cost they would normally have to pay! I’m excited that there is now a suitable option
I also wrote and administered my first Kenyan exams. The grading system is a bit different here (a 70% is an A). Some of my students did extremely well. To reward those that scored high, I invited the top 3 students from each grade to my house to watch a movie. They chose Center Stage and we had fun watching it and eating spaghetti.
I am looking forward to getting to know all of my students on an individual basis. I know most of their names and interests. Some of them have approached me for guidance and counseling questions (I’ve heard about early pregnancy, abortions, abusive parents, and poverty issues that make me cry inside). Two days ago, I accompanied a student to the VCT (Voluntary Counseling and Testing) to get HIV tested. And I tutor students at my house on the weekends. By building these personal relationships, I hope to truly make a positive impact in their lives.
I’m learning a lot from them as well. I realized that many of them are more responsible than I may ever be (they wash, clean, cook, and take care of siblings -chores that I don’t do so well). They are diligent and persevering in their attitude towards school (if I had to be at school from 6:40 to 5:20 each day I would do a lot more complaining than they do!) I’m learning to be appreciative of the things I have taken for granted (like a secondary school education). And together we are learning about one another’s culture (I learned Kenyan women only wash their hair once per month and I was asked “If you don’t bathe for a month will your hair look like ours?) Cross cultural exchange makes me smile
And A Few Revelations….
1. In Kenya, teeth are a multitool. You can use your teeth to open bottles, shuck sugercane, tear rubber tires (yes, I’ve seen it done!), and many other things (sorry, Dr. Hall D.D.S.)
2. Petrol stations don’t, despite their name, always have petrol. You can misleadingly pull up to a petrol station, hoping for petrol. But, alas, the latest shipment from Mombasa is yet to arrive.
3. Kenyans want to be fat. Being fat is a sign of wealth. They try to get me to eat heaping plates of food. They think I am not yet fat. Some have told me that they want me to go back to the states unrecognizable to my family because I’m so fat. I told them, that despite my love for food, I don’t think I want to be unrecognizably obese….ever.
4. Speaking of food, I have made a Kenyan improvised S’more. Using two digestive biscuits, some melted Cadbury chocolate, and marshmallows shipped all the way from the states, I now have my favorite American treat!
5. “It’s always tea time in Kenya” Kenyans drink more tea than I thought humanly possible. Even when it is sweltering hot, Kenyans will offer me steaming hot tea. I politely refuse and silently wonder how it is possible to consume hot drinks when it feels hotter than 100 degrees?!
Ok, I’m sure I’ll be adding to this list soon!
Love to you all,
Jenny
I had a really enjoyable weekend in Kisumu. I ate a ton of delicious pizza (although still not as yummy as T-birds), went swimming at a hotel (amazing!), drank lots of cold Tusker beer, consumed a month’s worth of ice cream, and did some serious second hand shopping (I was getting real tired of wearing the same 5 skirts!). I had lots of fun comparing embarrassing stories, choo nightmares, and other moments that only other Peace Corps volunteers can relate to. While my original intention of going to town was to watch the Superbowl, I couldn’t even stay awake to watch it (it started at 2am here- way past my 10pm bedtime). We found a hookah lounge, watched American TV (well, kind of, the first season of America’s Got Talent was on), and saw a movie (Avatar = best movie ever). And to top off an amazing weekend, I finally received my Christmas & birthday presents from the states. I was so happy to receive lots of goodies from friends and family (Twizzlers, Godiva chocolate, and magazines can really cure any homesickness!) So thank you Mom, Dad, Joni, David, and Melissa!
I returned to Magwar refreshed and ready to teach. I missed my students. And I missed the rural life. I missed everyone greeting me in dhoLuo (even though I don’t understand anything they say, I still appreciate the effort).
One excited event of the week was that I started a sanitary napkin making project at the school. As I mentioned earlier, many of the students said that availability of sanitary napkins was a daily challenge. They are simply too expensive for many students to afford. Some students use old blankets, dirty clothes, leaves, or do not come to school at all. I brainstormed sustainable solutions and thought I would try making pads from cotton and gauze. I contacted a nurse in Kisumu who took me to purchase the supplies necessary and taught me how to make them (it’s really quite easy!). Yesterday, I taught my students how to make them and they all were enthusiastic about the project. When I enquired if any would be willing to help me sell them, every hand in the classroom was raised! The materials to make approximately 100+ sanitary pads costs 690 shillings (about ten dollars). We’ll be selling them to the students for 6 shillings each which is less than half the cost they would normally have to pay! I’m excited that there is now a suitable option
I also wrote and administered my first Kenyan exams. The grading system is a bit different here (a 70% is an A). Some of my students did extremely well. To reward those that scored high, I invited the top 3 students from each grade to my house to watch a movie. They chose Center Stage and we had fun watching it and eating spaghetti.
I am looking forward to getting to know all of my students on an individual basis. I know most of their names and interests. Some of them have approached me for guidance and counseling questions (I’ve heard about early pregnancy, abortions, abusive parents, and poverty issues that make me cry inside). Two days ago, I accompanied a student to the VCT (Voluntary Counseling and Testing) to get HIV tested. And I tutor students at my house on the weekends. By building these personal relationships, I hope to truly make a positive impact in their lives.
I’m learning a lot from them as well. I realized that many of them are more responsible than I may ever be (they wash, clean, cook, and take care of siblings -chores that I don’t do so well). They are diligent and persevering in their attitude towards school (if I had to be at school from 6:40 to 5:20 each day I would do a lot more complaining than they do!) I’m learning to be appreciative of the things I have taken for granted (like a secondary school education). And together we are learning about one another’s culture (I learned Kenyan women only wash their hair once per month and I was asked “If you don’t bathe for a month will your hair look like ours?) Cross cultural exchange makes me smile
And A Few Revelations….
1. In Kenya, teeth are a multitool. You can use your teeth to open bottles, shuck sugercane, tear rubber tires (yes, I’ve seen it done!), and many other things (sorry, Dr. Hall D.D.S.)
2. Petrol stations don’t, despite their name, always have petrol. You can misleadingly pull up to a petrol station, hoping for petrol. But, alas, the latest shipment from Mombasa is yet to arrive.
3. Kenyans want to be fat. Being fat is a sign of wealth. They try to get me to eat heaping plates of food. They think I am not yet fat. Some have told me that they want me to go back to the states unrecognizable to my family because I’m so fat. I told them, that despite my love for food, I don’t think I want to be unrecognizably obese….ever.
4. Speaking of food, I have made a Kenyan improvised S’more. Using two digestive biscuits, some melted Cadbury chocolate, and marshmallows shipped all the way from the states, I now have my favorite American treat!
5. “It’s always tea time in Kenya” Kenyans drink more tea than I thought humanly possible. Even when it is sweltering hot, Kenyans will offer me steaming hot tea. I politely refuse and silently wonder how it is possible to consume hot drinks when it feels hotter than 100 degrees?!
Ok, I’m sure I’ll be adding to this list soon!
Love to you all,
Jenny
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