A Long and Relatively Productive Day!

It is always like this: I leave for school nervous and apprehensive in the morning, and come out of class buzzing and high. It’s because of the kids; they do this to me. When they respond to my antics, it makes me so, so happy, and that gives me the energy to continue. Ironic, but the more I teach, the more I want to teach; yet as soon as I stop, I feel absolutely knackered, and I fear that I wouldn’t be able to go for another day. Just those moments when I’m in the classroom, talking to each student, when I feel like I can answer their questions—cheesy as it is—that is when I feel most alive.

And I think Lwanda is finally warming up to me. The kids will actually laugh at my jokes sometimes now, and they will ask me questions and talk to me informally. They really are great kids. All twelve of them showed up today, probably because of the promise of food I made yesterday. I brought them biscuits, and that seemed to cheer them up considerably. We did some more constructions, continued with “Adventure in Mombasa”, and talked about Health Education (STIs, especially HIV/AIDS) after lunch. A good day, I think.

I also met the director of Lwanda today during second period, when Class Eight was being taken for Social Studies. His name is Renard Okoko. He works in Nairobi, and is not often here in Muhuru Bay, so his cousin Lule takes care of the school. Mr. Okoko told me he paid for the construction of the buildings, including the ones which are currently being erected, from whatever money he gets. It was an intriguing conversation. Lwanda was apparently first started back in 1999, but went through many ups and downs because of finances. It is a private school, which means that it does not receive any funding whatsoever from the government. “The government thinks that their citizens are private,” Mr. Okoko said, with a smile of frustration, waving his hands. “But how can people become private citizens?” The students pay sh200 per term, but this all goes towards the books and teachers’ salaries. He wants to expand the school, build another structure for more classrooms, and start a library—he told me he knows the publishers in Nairobi who will donate books if they send an official letter. Once Lwanda is registered as a proper school, that is. But the publishers will only sponsor private schools, because the public ones get help from the government.

I don’t understand why the government completely refuses to fund private schools. I guess privatising education is still a debatable topic, but a little subsidising can go so far here. It would give the teachers much more incentive to teach properly, since now at the public schools they are paid the same amount no matter how badly their students do. That just seems like a downright stupid system. But as Mr. Owiti had said, making policies in the governmental offices and implementing them in Muhuru Bay are two entirely different matters.

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I’d promised to tutor Michael’s daughter after school in maths, so I waited for her at WISER after we got back (the trip back in the car took forever: first we agreed to give Mr. Romanus a ride, then we went to George’s house to pick up his wife and meet his children, then we went to Obolo to pick up Leonard and Sadhna and the soda bottles, and then there was a lot of greeting and talking and shuffling and whatnot and Leonard ended up driving with George randomly taking a piki and Diana walking. They got there before our car did). Tracey Kate showed up a little after 4:30, and I tried to show her how to solve for x for an hour or so. She is clearly an intelligent girl, and very hardworking. To walk all the way from her house to WISER and back! Thank goodness I felt awake enough today to help her as well after teaching all day, or I would have felt terrible for letting her down.

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George and Kennedy were the guests for tonight's dinner. Abigail, Frank and Elizabeth were in charge, although to be honest everyone ends up helping out anyways, so the original three are elected mainly to pick the menu and buy the ingredients.  The theme was “Breakfast for Dinner.” Matron made mendazi and Abigail made French toast, and there were also scrambled eggs and yogurt with fresh fruit and honey. Eneka and Elizabeth ingeniously made their own granola “cookies” in the frying pan, using some leftover packets of Amy’s instant oatmeal, Blue Band, honey and brown sugar. And of course there was guacamole, because none of our Thursday Night Dinners can be complete without guacamole.

We’d arranged with the drivers for them to come at seven, and Kennedy showed up only a few minutes past. George, though, did not come, and we waited for twenty minutes before Kennedy told us that George had said he would not be coming. Even though he’d confirmed with Sadhna at lunch that he would be here. So we dug in, because everyone was hungry; then at 7:40 Abigail received a text from George saying that he was on his way.

He arrived fifteen or so minutes later, in a very jovial mood. He wouldn’t answer when asked where he had been, kept on suggesting that we hold a farewell “bash” under the tree in Tagache, and said he wanted to dance together. It was only after he and Kennedy had gone that Sadhna burst out laughing and I realised that he’d been totally drunk all the while. And then everything made much more sense. George had been calling out to the teachers seated around the tree at Lwanda as we pulled out this afternoon, and he’d explained to me that he had been joking about Mr. Okoko owing him a drink now that he was back in Muhuru Bay. The director had apparently replied that he was a member of the Church, which meant that he wasn't allowed to drink or to buy other people drinks. Which confuses me. How can the people here be so pious, and yet comfortably ignore fundamental Christian tenets, like abstinence and monogamy?

I’m rather glad I hadn’t known when George was still here. Now that I think back on it, it could have turned out so much worse than it did—at least he was sane enough not to start dancing!

What a Really, Really Sore Throat Feels Like

I had a really, really terrible night last night. My throat got worse, and even though I went to bed at 9 out of exhaustion I couldn't sleep because I woke up every time I swallowed from the pain. They were also really loud in the dining room, so I had to get up several times and ask them to keep the noise down. Eventually, though, the pain got so unbearable that I had to ask Caitlin for a couple of ibuprofen, so I guess it was a good thing that they were still up. I think I slept for a total of three and a half hours, maximum. Needless to say I didn’t get up for my run this morning.

Actually, I didn’t run at all today, which should explain just how serious my throat is. It is really that bad. I don’t give up my run easily. But I did take a nap in the afternoon, a blessed four-hour nap. Thank goodness for that.

I can’t speak. It is uncomfortable and extremely annoying. Reese and Adria made dinner today, and Madam Dorcas was the guest. I couldn't do my brief introduction to her because of course I couldn't make a sound. The food was great—a tomato, avocado and corn salad with dressing, guacamole, chapatti and pineapples. Madam Dorcas was also a fantastic speaker, and her story was very interesting. She told us briefly about her education, her family, her journey to WISER, and she made us guess her age (54—I guess she must be around that age, but she is really very stately and energetic). She has two children, one in university and one who has just finished his Masters degree. Her husband owns a hotel, the Hillview, in Migori. She knows the headmaster of Starehe Boys’ Secondary School, where Leonard went. She is just an all-round amazing person.

Hopefully tonight will be better. I'm going to Migori tomorrow to visit the hospital. THANK GOODNESS I'm not teaching!

First Thursday

Some of the others are playing football with the girls, but I wanted to write this up as soon as possible, whilst the thoughts are still in my mind.

The last few days at Lisori have really been very, very powerful. It is amazing how much you can learn just by being here, just by observing people of this other culture. Of course I’ve seen pictures of rural Africa before, in all those fundraising posters and pamphlets—haven't we all?—but actually being here, being here in person and seeing it with my own eyes—this is something else entirely. Their torn, ragged uniforms; the decrepit room with its ugly, unpainted walls; the dirt floor, the glassless windows, the metal door with its scratched turquoise paint, that doesn’t close properly. Most of the kids wear filthy, tattered flip-flops the likes of which I have only ever seen tramps wear. They carry bags of exercise books with the covers wrapped in whatever paper they can find, the pages so frayed that they are soft and furry.

Lisori is split into two sections, the Lower Primary (Classes 1 to 3) and the Upper Primary (Classes 4 to 8—Class 4 is actually more of a Lower Primary class, they only follow the Upper schedule). I think most of the female teachers, like Teacher Faith and Teacher Grace, only teach the Lower Primary, whereas Class Eight is taught most by male teachers. They are housed in separate buildings. The Upper Primary is built of painted concrete with a tin roof, but the Lower Primary is unpainted and ramshackle. I have not been into one of the classrooms there (or, indeed, any other classroom apart from Class Eight’s), but I suspect there is no furniture inside: seats and desks are a luxury here. In fact, the children don’t seem to spend much time indoors at all; I always see them running around outside. The teachers, too, never seem to be in the classrooms. They are all really nice people— from the sound of it I got very lucky with the teachers at my school, because some of the other WISERBridge people have met positively ghastly staff—but if they are in school, they are either in the staff lounge or sitting outside under the shade of the two trees. I have often seen the students bring them books to mark, so I hope that they are actually doing some teaching!

The teachers' lounge, a separate hut with solar-powered electricity outlets

It makes me uncomfortable to see how much non-academic work the students are made to do. They fetch water for the teachers, cook their lunch, run to buy them food from the nearby vendor, chop firewood…anything they are bid to do. They seem almost more like servants than students.

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Today was also the first of what I shall call the Thursday Night Dinners. These are the weekly dinner/discussions that Abigail suggested for us, where we get together to eat and talk to each other about the goings-on in the different groups. I think the consensus is that three people will be in charge of cooking every week, and another three people will be responsible for washing up.

Elizabeth, Eneka and Tara cooked today. They asked Matron to teach them to make chapatti, which we ate with guacamole and fruit. The guacamole was a stroke of genius. So simple, the ingredients so readily available, and yet so delicious! Definitely a crowd-pleaser, so much that we were all just spooning it into our mouths during the making. Dinner was later than usual but well worth the wait!

After dinner Abigail led us in a reflection session about our week. First she went over the logistics (food, housekeeping, etc.) and then she asked us to talk about our experiences in this first week. I’m glad that we had this session, even though I started crying when it was my turn to speak. I just wonder how much good we are doing here, coming in and giving these kids such a different time for two weeks, making sure they have something to do every lesson, and then disappearing again. Are we really changing anything for the better? Are we making them happier?

We had a long discussion about this together. I think everyone is starting to feel the hopelessness of the situation, but Joy brought up a good point: the kids have dreams, and bleak as we think their hopes are, it is not our place to destroy them. So even if we feel like we are lying to them when we tell them to keep working hard for their dreams, maybe that is for the best.

Sherryl came and gave me a hug afterwards, which was very appreciated. :) I think she knows what I am feeling very well.