Life at Olympic Academy

I know it’s been forever since I’ve updated, but since my phone got stolen and that was my means for posting, it’s been a bit difficult to get online that often. But everything is good now because I have my computer here, so get ready for a bunch of updates! Where to begin…well for the whole of August my school, Olympic Academy, was on holiday after their end of term exams. We had a great closing ceremony at school on the last day before holiday. The whole school gathered in the auditorium, from the baby classes to class 7, and there was dancing, singing and the announcement of the students’ results on their exams. Every teacher gave a small speech to the kids (including me!!) and then announced the top three exam performers in their class. I handed out exercise books and pencils to the top three, and some of the teachers of older grades also announced the bottom three performers as well and made them stand in front of everyone, which I didn’t like too much. They also gave out other awards, like most polite, best English speaker, most helpful, and so on, so that was fun to see too.

Olympic has been a wonderful school to be at. The kids are very dedicated to their studies, they love having a mzungu (white person in Kiswahili and what gets shouted at us in the streets on a daily basis by kids and adults alike) at their school, and the staff are friendly and helpful. It honestly is one of the best schools in Kibera, again the largest slum in Africa. However, two issues have arisen that have frustrated and saddened me immensely. First, over the holiday, I had a situation with a student coming over unannounced to my house. It wasn’t even one of my own students, but one of the older kids. I try to spend some time with the older kids as well so most of them know me, but this one I had never spoken to. We were all about to sit down to dinner at my house when he came knocking on the door. I wasn’t sure what was going on so I invited him inside, and since we were all eating we offered him some spaghetti. While he was eating I went over and asked him if everything was ok, and he just said he needed to talk to me. After we finished eating, I took him outside, where he proceeded to tell me a really long sob story about how his mother is very sick and needs to go to the hospital and that he has 7 brothers and sisters and they have no food or money. He then told me that since he and I were both “children of god” that I should give him some money to help them out. The reason this bothers me is because there is a HUGE problem with volunteers and mzungus in general in Kenya where Kenyans see you only as an ATM, just because you’re white. My friend Izzo likes to say here in Kenya, if you’re white, you’re green (money). Other volunteers tend to just get taken advantage of and throw money at situations, and I’ve prided myself so far on trying to break that stereotype. If I pay my students’ school fees or give any money, it will be completely anonymous and it will be on my own accord, not because someone’s asking me for it. Also, the fact that I didn’t even know this kid and definitely didn’t invite him to my house or even know that he knew where I lived and clearly targeted me because he knew it would make me feel terrible just really irked me, and I actually cried after he left out of frustration. When he asked me for the money I felt cornered, but tried to stick to my beliefs and told him that I would talk to Buddy, the school coordinator, and see if maybe we could work something out, but that I wasn’t going to give him money now. He accepted that after awhile, but then gave me another sob story about how he lived so far away and that he would have to walk all that way and could I please just give him bus fare? At this point I was beside myself with frustration, so I just agreed to give him 20 shillings for the bus. Somehow, NO ONE in my entire house had any coins whatsoever, and the smallest bill anyone had was a 100 note. Since I had already promised him bus fare, I gave him the 100 and told him he was under strict instruction to use it for bus fare and then the rest for food for his family. He agreed, then asked me if I was going to be at school on Monday. I told him no, because it was vacation, and then he had the gall to say that he was just wondering because he wanted me to buy him exercise books. At this point I told him he needed to leave and that I really didn’t have the money to just give it away to him, and went inside and started crying. I completely understand his situation and that there is need everywhere around me, but still, for reasons I stated above, I refuse to be seen as an ATM, especially because I cannot afford it. I am giving my time and resources to the school already, so is that not enough? I just can’t stand the idea that money is seen as more powerful and a greater gesture than giving your time and effort to a situation; money can’t solve everything.

The second issue I’ve been struggling severely with lately is the fact that corporal punishment is used very frequently here; every teacher has a cane which is usually a gnarled old thick plastic strip with a knob on the end of it, a frayed branch that cracks like a whip, or just a thick stick. What really bothers me though is that before the holiday, my teaching partner never once used a cane in front of me. I knew it happened in other classes, but I sincerely respected and admired her for the way she handled a classroom without needed to resort to physical violence towards 9 and 10 year old children. She would pinch their cheeks sometimes, which isn’t great either but it’s not as severe. Something must have snapped over the holiday, because she came back with a vengeance, and now she beats the kids daily. And hard. One time she threatened to beat the last student to finish his or her math work. The worst one was when a boy named Clinton was making a noise during class. Admittedly, it was annoying and he took it a bit far, but she made him stand in front of the class and demanded that he make the sound again. He was hesitant, but she forced him to, and then cracked him over the head with the cane. She ordered him to do it again, and then cracked him again, and this cycle repeated at least 6 times. She did the same thing when 2 boys, Amkali and Brian John, were dancing in class, forcing them to do it in front of the class while she smacked their legs with the cane. It is just sad, and actually makes me physically sick. The other day as well, the whole school gathered in the auditorium for some sort of public cane-fest where the head teacher just beat the crap out of several students in front of the whole school, out of which a few kids emerged sobbing. I had to leave the premises for that one. There is such a focus on public humiliation as a means of punishment, and it just doesn’t add up to me, and I know it’s definitely not proved to work as an effective way to manage children and a classroom. In my opinion, in the long run it only makes them resentful and afraid, not more obedient and diligent. However, there is a need to remember cultural relativity here, and that certain things might be acceptable in one culture and appalling in another. Now I am not condoning or excusing beating children in any way, but it is just so engrained in the culture here that I don’t see it ever being eradicated. The way I like to describe it is that whereas I could never even imagine how anyone could think caning children is right in any way, a Kenyan could never understand why anyone would see caning as wrong. It is one of those situations where the cultural barrier is so wide, that neither side is capable of looking across and seeing the other side’s point of view. Also, I will not be that foreigner who comes in and tried to change the African way of life because I think my way is so much more superior…feels a bit too colonialist for me. So I’m a bit torn at this moment in time as to what I should do, or if I should do anything at all. I am getting increasingly uncomfortable, and it’s really affecting me deeply. So we will see what I come up with.

On to the positives, because I promise they do outweigh the negatives. My students in class 3 are incredible. I love them to absolute pieces. I have been helping with all lessons, but most consistently teaching social studies, which is teaching about Kenyan life and culture and how the society functions (ironic right, considering I’m the only non-Kenyan at that entire school). Is a bit tricky though, because I’m teaching the kids about an ideal place that they know nothing about and definitely do not live in. I am forced to say things like “the government keeps you safe and keeps the streets clean and provides for your basic needs,” “corruption is always punished and is being eradicated in Kenya” and “it’s a violation of your rights if you get beat in school and you should tell an adult you trust.” These things are just not reality for the kids, and it is obvious by the questions they ask me during the lessons. But this is what they get tested on, and it is what they have to memorize if they want to pass class 3, so I’m stuck with it. I try to explain it as best I can to them, and I think they understand that it’s the ideal situation, but I still feel like I’m lying through my teeth to them sometimes. I couldn’t love my class more though. The names, just in case anyone is curious are as follows (and some are surnames because some kids go by their last names): Rocky, Bildad, Manyangue, Chelimo, Enos, Misati, Amkali, Brian John, Vincent, Oboya, Clinton, Andrew, Otieno, Eric, Elvis Gisore, Charity, Rose, Edinah, Rowena, and Pauline. In a later post I will write a little bit about each kid and what they are like, but this post is long enough as it is. Bottom line: I LOVE my school and my students, but like any new situation, it takes a bit of acclimation time to be completely comfortable and figure out your role in the functioning of the environment as a whole.