Strangely Returning Home

I went back to see my Lisori kids today. I took a piki, because George went to Migori and Kennedy was out waiting for the other WISERBridge people, and I wanted to leave at 9:30a.m. Samson was the driver who took me, and we went by the back way through the fields. When I arrived, the gates were pulled close and there was nobody in sight except a small girl, not in school uniform. But I spotted a figure near the building, thanked Samson and weaved my way into the campus.

It all seemed so familiar, so strangely habitual for me to walk in the yard. A few steps in, I heard a voice call: “Lisa!” It was Eunice Akoth. I called back, and gave her her photograph. Cheryl Faith came out as well, and we walked together to the Class 5 classroom where the others were.

They were almost all there—seventeen of them, out of twenty. I was so happy, and they seemed very excited to see me as well. I gave them my phone numbers and email address, and gave them another pep talk about their KCPE. I told them to study hard, visit me in WISER, and go to Margaret for more books to read. And I warned them again that if they didn’t do well in the exams, I would hear from Margaret.

They were there for the WISERBridge Kiswahili lesson, so I left them to Teacher Joan whilst I waited for Teacher Owiti to come. I needed to get a signature for Sadhna, to obtain permission for the research she’d already conducted. We talked for a while about education and culture. I called Samson again at about 10:45, and he drove me back to WISER.

I went to Lwanda in the afternoon, after preparing extensively (and rather nervously) for a second lesson on The Reproductive System. For an hour I attempted to talk about fetal development and they looked asleep until it came to the time for questions. I reiterate my thought from last week: teaching Sex Ed to a bunch of adolescents is an experience every person should try. To put it in perspective, I came back and read an article entitled “Everything you need to know about sex during pregnancy”—I kid you not. Then I taught Impromptu English, attempting to make them come up with “Not only…but also…” sentences till Kennedy showed up at 4p.m. I was quite amazed that he had managed to drive his vehicle, a hefty SUV-type, all the way to Lwanda through that gulley. He told me that he used to go this route when he was a matatu driver. I was so, so glad that we were still able to carry on a conversation without awkwardness; I don’t know how the others talk to the drivers now, having gone through what they did. Maybe they’re just used to it, maybe they have no problem reconciling the Friday-night face with the daylight one, but I can’t do it. I need to keep my relationships pure.