Kwaheri Kenya, Kwaheri James

“Kwaheri” in Kiswahili means “goodbye.” This word has turned out to be a chillingly appropriate descriptor for my last days in Kenya. As some of you might already know, a very dear friend of mine and CEO of the Fadhili Community organization I have been volunteering through for the past 5 months just passed away. Around 12 am Kenyan time on Saturday the 5th of December, James Njuguna was shot and killed while in his car. Apparently, the details to the best of my knowledge are as follows. A group of muggers trailed his car from another location and followed him home, and when he stopped at the gate of his compound, they jumped out with guns ablaze. The gatekeeper noticed this, and pushed the button to alarm the security team. Pandemonium ensued, with neighbors peeking out windows and screaming as the muggers shot randomly into the compound, leaving visible bullet holes in two of James’ neighbors’ windows. The thugs approached the car, and demanded that they open the windows, pointing their guns squarely at James and my other very dear friend Chomlee, the driver for Fadhili who was also present. James told Chomlee not to comply, and in a somewhat questionable move decided to attempt to hide his brand new iphone he was just showing off to me only weeks earlier, bursting with pride and excitement. He loved that thing, and reached back discreetly to shove the iphone into the back seat pocket. This attracted the thugs’ attention, and they all came around to James’ window, still demanding that he open the windows and hand over all his possessions. The chaos was only intensifying, and one of the muggers back at their vehicle suggested to the man with the gun pointed at James that they had better make themselves scarce because the alarm was already triggered and surely reinforcements were on their way. In what can only be surmised as a move of completely desperate frustration, the exasperated mugger turned to James, and shot him point blank in the chest, the bullet piercing his heart, all the way to his stomach and exiting out his back. James slumped over, painfully extracting the words “Chomlee, they shot me” from his dying lips. Chomlee finally unlocked the doors and the muggers promptly still insisted on taking everything the both of them had; phones, wallets, money, etc. After that, the thugs quickly departed, and Chomlee raced off to the hospital to save his dying friend. Tragically, though the hospital was a mere two minutes away, James passed away en route. He was just 30 years old.

Unfortunately, as it goes in Kenya, if James was a white person, this story would be flooding the headlines and making all kinds of noise. But as one of my journalist friends bluntly but honestly stated to me, the papers see James as “just another random Kenyan” who fell victim to being an unfortunate target as another well-off black Kenyan resented by others in desperate situations. Little do they know he was anything but.

James had a love for life that was undeniable. Although he wasn’t always the most organized, showed up late and even cancelled meetings often, NO ONE could deny the passion and commitment that he had for what he called his “vision”: making the lives of Kenyan children better. Although we didn’t always see eye to eye on everything, I could be sure of one thing: we would still have love for one another. I remember from nearly the first time I met him, James used to tell me almost every time we saw each other how much he loved me, how he loved my energy and my personality and that he just enjoyed being around me, and I thought the same of him. It actually used to jar me a bit and caught me off guard, especially the first time he said to me in a room full of people with the utmost sincerity: “Alexi, I love you.” Although I never doubted those words coming out of his mouth, the conviction he said it with was almost overwhelming, especially given the number of people he meets in any given day, let alone a month or year. How was I so deserving of this man’s love and admiration?

Not only did James dedicate his life to ameliorating the lives of his fellow Kenyans through the creation of his orphanage, which I’ve had the pleasure of visiting on a few occasions, but in the process he also found ways to ensure that his beautiful family was well-taken care of, despite the amount of tragedies that have occurred for them. James’ sister died in the arms of her young son Tony, now thirteen, who was adopted by another sister of James’ named Grace, who was my host mother during my stay in Kenya. This marks the third sibling that Grace has had to lay to rest, with another brother passing away at a young age. Not only was James a brother, but he was a husband to a gorgeous wife also named Grace, and a preciously beautiful baby girl named Kelly, who is heartbreakingly not even a year old. He was also the only male figure in his sister Grace’s one year old son Roy’s life, his father having left at birth if not before. Over 50 orphans in the Madison Children's Home that James ran looked to him as a father, after he took them in when they had no one else in the world. Whoever pulled that trigger did not realize the affect it would have not only in Kenya, but all over the world. Volunteers from Thailand to Ireland to the US to Australia and everywhere in between have been flooding their facebook pages with kind messages mourning the loss of a great soul. Did this person not consider that the man he was about to murder in cold blood has a life, is a husband, brother, uncle, son, mentor, friend, coworker, provider, father…and just a fellow human being? I will never understand this. I cannot even pretend to. Taking the life of another human being, under ANY circumstances, is in my book unforgivable. No matter what that person has done. Death at the hands of another human being is NEVER the answer.

All I have left to assuage my pain and confusion are the happy memories that we shared during the time I was lucky enough to spend with James. I will never forget the actual last words he spoke to me in person a week or so ago when I was going through a very difficult time: “Alexi, you know I still love you”; riding both of us shoved in the tiny trunk of his car through Naivasha; his goofy but warm smile; the way he would speak about his “vision” with such loving passion; the photograph where he and Joe tricked me into being picked up in their arms…not realizing I was in a skirt!; seeing him lovingly holding his daughter Kelly; hearing him gush about his wife and even pulling me aside the first time I met her to say “see, isn’t she the most beautiful woman in the world?”; witnessing his dedication to his church and God firsthand at several ceremonies he led; and just his presence when he walked into a room. These are the thoughts that I hope I’ll be able to use to push out the haunting images of my own creation about what he went through during his final hours.

This has been a very difficult time for me. It is challenging everything I thought I believed about human nature and the innate good I used to so painstakingly insist existed in people, and I am struggling to defend it at this time in my life. My spirit feels crushed. I hope these feelings will go away with time, and I know I have a strong support system around me who will keep me stable and on my path. But as terribly devastated as I know I am feeling, I can still only really think of those most affected by the situation, James’ lovely wife and daughter, my host mom Grace, the rest of his family, his closest friends including one of my best friends out here Izzo, all the Fadhili staff, and especially Chomlee who witnessed the entire thing and lived to see another day. I cannot even fathom what they are going through. So for this reason, I ask you please not to waste your pity on me, but please please please keep these people in your thoughts and prayers. They are the real victims here, and although they may be strangers to you, they are all someone to somebody out there, as is every single person in this vast world.

I am leaving Kenya in just two days, on the 8th of December. I cannot wait to see my friends and family and be able to hug everyone again. Situations like this just really make you realize how fragile life is, and how quickly everything can be taken from you with no warning. Thank you all for following my blog during this tumultuous journey of mine….it has been such a series of ups and downs, unlike anything else I have ever experienced in my life. As always I apologize for not writing as much as I maybe should have, but I am always open to chatting in person or however about my time spent here. I hope to be reporting again on new adventures in the future, and will keep you all in the loop as it happens if you so desire. Please stay safe this holiday season, hold your loved ones and tell them every day how much they mean to you…in honor of those who are no longer able to do the same.

Much love and peace, Alexi

-6th December, 2009

Kenyan Justice

PRECURSOR: if you are easily worried about me and are sensitive to some of the situations in Kenya then you honestly might not want to read this entry. I was in absolutely no personal danger in this situation, but I just thought I would give fair warning in case.




Last week Wednesday we got wind that there were riots going on in Kibera a little down the way from where my school is located. I was sick and wasn’t going to school until Thursday, so I was at the coffee shop all day using the internet and posting pictures. My housemate Zenek was actually in a matatu (public transport) going through Kibera when he noticed that a mob was forming and that people were running around with machetes and pushing each other in a sort of frenzy. We were all trying to postulate what they could have been rioting about, because there have been constant underlying tensions ever since the post-election violence that haven’t exactly been quelled or even addressed such as lack of access to water, drought, famine, ethnic tensions, dissatisfaction with government, and living conditions in general. We guessed that it might have been protesting the government or the extreme scarcity of any kind of water (clean or filthy) in Kibera, or the fact that some of the people living in the slums have been relocated to new apartment style housing while others are still left wanting, and were all very curious to find out what the politics behind it were and exactly what had been going on. A day or so later, we come to find out the truth: a man had stolen a cell phone from somewhere or someone, and the mob formed in fury. The end result: they chased this man down, doused him in gasoline, and lit him on fire.

Welcome to the Kenyan justice system.

August holiday

At school, the kids were on holiday for almost the whole month of August. I’m just going to write about a few of the things that I did during my time off. Sorry it is going to be long and out of time sequence, so bear with me…but after this I should be almost caught up!

A friend of mine called Selina who is a British journalist here in Nairobi had her good friend Niall visiting, who is an Irish sailor in the British Navy. The three of us spent 2 days and 1 night in a place called Naivasha, which is a town northwest of Nairobi. It is famous for being the home of Lake Naivasha, and we stayed in a little banda on a campsite called Fisherman’s Camp right on the lake. The lake is meant to have a bunch of hippos in it, but we never saw any during the day. We spent most of the evening sitting by the fire in the bar, and late in the night there was a hippo sighting! It was just one, and it came all the way up to where the electric fence was that is meant to keep them away from the campsite. Since everyone gathered, it ran away pretty quickly, but it was still cool to see. It was a fun mini-getaway to escape the rush and pollution of the city.

Me, George, Zenek and Loren who are all volunteers and Izzo, who is Kenyan all went to Mombasa for several days on the 20th of August. Mombasa is a coastal beach town that is kind of a tourist destination but somewhere I definitely want to go back to before I leave. We took the overnight bus that left at 9:30pm…worst bus ride of my entire life! We sat 5 across the back, and literally felt every pebble that bus went over and bounced and jostled to no end. Everyone else in the other seats was reclined and sleeping, but there was no comfort or sleeping for us; we were absolutely miserable. But once we got there, we had such a great time! The beach was white sand and beautiful, and the water was incredible and warm. We stayed at a place called Diani Beachalets in a little 2-room cottage with a kitchen and the beach right outside our porch. We spent a lot of our time on the beach, going out to some of the local clubs and bars, and wandering around the city of Mombasa, because where we stayed was Diani Beach, which is about 30 minutes past the actual city of Mombasa. The only real touristy outing we did was when we went to Fort Jesus, which is a historical monument and also had some very good views of the awesome beaches. It was so nice to get away and do a vacation-y trip where I could just relax and play in the ocean and hang out. It is much hotter there as well, and there is a large Muslim population too. There is a bit of anti-Americanism and anti-western sentiments, which are evidenced by the flashlights that shine with a picture of Osama bin Laden (whose face is everywhere on gadgets, cars, etc.), but we never had any problems with it. There is a lot of history in that town, and I kind of wish we got to see some more of the sights, but maybe when I go back I’ll do some of that.

Since I didn’t have anything to do on a daily basis during the holiday, I went out to Mama Tunza’s childrens home where George and Zenek work quite a few times. It is located right near my school in Kibera, but is basically on the opposite side of the spectrum from Olympic. The conditions were despicable, there were over 130 kids staying in space fit for maybe 20 at the most, kids were sleeping 3 and more to a bed, many kids had malaria or other diseases which spread very easily when so many people are living in such close quarters. It was just a filthy place, words can’t even begin to describe the way you feel when you walk into that place. You can smell it from a mile away. However, the kids are somehow still always happy and busy playing and laughing…just proving that life’s conditions cannot kill the spirit. The teachers (because it is also a school too) haven’t been paid in months and are on the brink of being penniless, if they aren’t already. But the staff seem really great and George got along with them very well. While Tunza’s in Kibera is still around, another volunteer called Livy and Zenek were about to organize for the kids to be moved out to a town called Ngong to a brand new center which is about a 20-30 minute matatu ride (crazy VW bus-like public transport that sometimes get stuffed to over 20 people) plus about a 6 minute boda-boda (something resembling a dirt-bike) away from where we live. It was a really difficult procedure to get all the kids moved, and it took a lot of hard work and persistence, but they made it happen, which I think is pretty incredible. They faced so many obstacles, and that move never would have happened if it weren’t for them. I went out there with them the first day they brought the kids to the center to their new homes, and it was such a special experience. The kids were overjoyed; it is such a contrast to what they had in Kibera. The new center is really nice, with brand new buildings, beds the kids don’t have to share, a slide, teeter-totter and swings, and 30 times the space they had in Kibera. It is isolated out in the middle of nowhere, with nothing but cornfields and cows and Maasai houses and people around. The kids seem infinitely more happy, as does Mama Tunza. They are still facing a lot of issues with the staff not living up to their duties, sponsors pulling out, and all the typical issues in anything that happens in Kenya with corruption, lack of money, disorganization, and all that, but they seem determined to get the center up and running adequately. It has been a very interesting process to observe from the outside, and I learned a lot from it. The kids are really fun…my 2 favorites are Kimtoh, who is just so adorable, and Jackwell, who is such a clown and so sweet and also HIV positive. Speaking of HIV, I also went out with George and Zenek to the Ngong center to do HIV tests on all of the kids there who hadn’t been tested before. It was an incredible experience that I know I most likely will never have an opportunity to do again in my life, so I am really glad I was a part of it. We did this on the 3rd of September, and went out with one of the workers called Lucy at a clinic in Kibera called Leototo. All of the services offered in the clinic are free, testing, counseling, and treatment, which is pretty amazing. The only thing we had to pay for was the transport for the person from the clinic to get out there. When we got there, we set up a table with 2 stools and a long bench to place the tests on as we waited for the results to show up. I ended of kind of being Lucy’s assistant, because George and Zenek were doing a lot of administrative and organizational work trying to sort the kids and get them in the right places at the right times. How the test works is this: there is a plastic tray that has a long part with a little circle on the end. On the long part is where the results turn up, and one line at the top means negative and two lines is positive, while anything else is invalid. Lucy would pinprick each of the kids’ fingers with a little plastic thing that looked like a thumbtack, and then she squeezed a couple drops from their finger into the dish circle at the end of the plastic test. We then had to let the tests sit for 5-15 minutes, which was exasperating! My job was to take the tests after Lucy put the blood in, set them aside, and wait to read the results. I also handed out candy to the kids after the pinprick, but really only the older ones needed it…they were such babies! All the younger kids were just exceptionally curious of what was going on. Then I discarded all the old tests after reading them out loud to George and Zenek. I was literally holding my breath the whole time, my chest was so tight- I was just waiting for a second line to appear and for me to have to read it as positive! It was so nerve-wracking. Luckily though, none of the kids ccame back positive. We only tested the ones who had never been tested before, and 4 of the kids living there are already positive. The tests aren’t 100% accurate of course, and HIV is a tricky thing to test for with respect to the window period and time issues, but we were still so glad no positives came up, especially with on little girl called Zoardia. She was showing signs like mouth sores and thrush, which usually marks the beginnings of HIV, and one of her siblings is also positive, so it was a big relief when even she came up negative, but they are still planning on retesting her in a couple months. I am determined to organize testing like that for IDP camps since now I know how to do it. The only barrier we are facing is that Izzo rightfully says that if we are going to test the people and potentially have to tell some of them that they are positive, we need to have a solution readily available for those who turn up with HIV. We can’t just test and leave them to their own accords, so we will need to find a nearby clinic that people will be able to go to for free for treatment and counseling. I think it’s definitely doable, but we shall see.

There is this awesome place in Nairobi called the monkey park, which I went to a few times during the holiday. It is free, and it is just a park in the city, but there are monkeys EVERYWHERE! These are not just regular monkeys either, they are aggressive and people-loving monkeys who steal from you and take your food and jump on you! The last time we went was with me, George, Izzo, and Izzo’s good friend Tony. I dragged them there after we spent the day renewing George’s visa and replacing the SIM card in my phone, mostly because there are these roasted sweet potatoes that you can only get from a street vendor near there that are to DIE for, and you put lime and chili powder on them and I am borderline obsessed with them. Anyway, we ended up having such a fun time! My sweet potato was wonderful, and Izzo got some roasted maize as well that I tried for the first time. However, as he was holding it out and I was taking a bite, a monkey ran up, jumped up to the maize and bit on it right on the other side of where my mouth was! It literally snatched it right out of my mouth. It was pretty funny. We also got lollipops, and a monkey pulled the stick out of my lollipop that was in my mouth, and Tony and Izzo both got their lollipops stolen out of their mouths. I also got bitten by a baby monkey and scratched by another one, and some pretty hilarious pictures came out of that. We fed them peanuts and they jump up on your shoulders and back, and it is a bit scary at first but really fun after you get used to it.

The 31st of August was my home-stay brother Roy’s first birthday! We had a cute little party for him with cake, juice, chapati (sort of like Indian Naan but more moist and a Kenyan staple), biscuits, and popcorn. A bunch of our host mom Grace’s friends came over, and several neighborhood kids too. I played games and chatted with the girls, who were so sassy and full of attitude but in a really fun way. Roy also has started walking since I first got here just recently, so it has been so much fun. I am so excited to see him with all the time I will be here for…he’ll be running circles around me and talking up a storm by the time I leave here!

A while ago, Zenek and I took Karanja (first name Dennis, but goes by his last), Grace’s 8 year-old nephew who is an orphan and the sweetest boy ever to Nairobi National Park for the day. Zenek drove a car we borrowed from another host dad names Oliver, and we spent the day hanging out with Karanja and trying to spot animals. He was most interested in spotting the animal poop and airplanes and also steering while Zenek drove, but he still had a really great time. We saw a bunch of zebras, giraffes, gazelles, warthogs, ostrich, a huge crocodile, lots of birds, and monkeys and baboons. There was a pretty close call with a baboon who we were looking at with all out windows open…it started walking toward us, then picked up speed and was suddenly sprinting at MY open window! I froze and then shrieked and ducked away, but luckily Zenek acted quickly and closed my window for me as the baboon jumped up with full force on to my window and then climbed on the windshield and just sat there staring, Zenek says, directly at me. It was a really nice day, and I’m glad we got to take him out for some quality time together.

On August 8th, me, Loren, George, Sarah, and some other volunteers went to the wedding of Bonface, one of the guys who works for the Fadhili organization. It was so cool to witness a cultural event and see the similarities and differences between what we are used to. The bride, Maureen, wore a traditionally “western” looking dress, and Bonface wore a white suit. One thing we noticed was that they never looked at each other at all until they were faced each other about to say their vows. They also have different traditions with cake; they do not give it out to everyone and often times they will have several cakes, but most of them will be made out of cardboard. The bride and groom actually hand feed cake to their close family only, while everyone else got pre-packaged biscuits. Gifts were literally presented to them while they stood at the front alter, and were categorized by things like “work friends,” “volunteers,” “his/her family and friends,” etc. There was so much singing and dancing, and it was a fun experience.

Loren and I also went to Izzo’s mother’s ordination on August 9th. The ceremony was extremely long and drawn out, but Izzo specially invited us and I figured it would be another new thing for me to experience. There was a lot of preaching, especially because it was an evangelical church, and a lot of reading in Kiswahili and ritual that I didn’t really understand. The most interesting part for me was right before what I guessed was the moment they got officially ordained. The candidate was knelt down next to who I assume was his or her “sponsor” or something like it, and for most people that was their spouse, and after some prayer/ proclamation, the ceremony leader poured oil from a horn all over the person’s head, after which each person burst into tears of joy and pride. There was a lot of singing and music here too, and we were definitely fish out of water as the only 2 mzungu people (white) there, though they made us feel very welcome.

My work at the IDP camps is still plugging along as well. I’ve been out there I think maybe 6 or 7 times now, and this past weekend on the 18th-20th of September was my first time actually running the whole thing with Izzo and without Loren, who went home much to my dismay the beginning of September. We had a group of about 26 volunteers come out with us for a medical camp and food distribution combined. On Friday night, we bought the food and packaged it, then Saturday all day we brought out the doctor and had him see all the patients and distributed medicine and all of that. Sunday was food distribution day, but I got extremely sick and Izzo took me back to Nairobi that morning on his way to the airport to pick up a previous volunteer who was returning to Kenya with money to donate to IDP. It was such a different experience doing ALL of the organization and all of that leading up to the weekend and also the whole time we were there, especially with so many volunteers. Izzo and I spent a lot of time buying medicine, talking to the doctor, writing lists, going to meetings, making the budget, and doing all the other prep work even before the weekend even began. But it was really rewarding to have done all of that after the weekend was through, even though I was and still am battling with something that according to Kenyans is closely resembling swine flu but with ear infections added on to the list of symptoms, haha. There is a team of volunteers and Kenyans working together to try to make this IDP camp work into a legitimate and separate from Fadhili non-profit organization. There are a lot of hurdles and barriers and issues to work through before this can become a reality, but it is well on its way there. Eventually we hope to have our own source of volunteers who will come to Kenya specifically to do work with IDP camps, but there is a lot of business to take care of first before that can happen. Izzo and I also attended a meeting with a couple people who work for an organization here in Kenya that is looking to potentially sponsor our IDP project, which is very exciting, and also maybe build a children’s home out there for the kids who lost their parents in the post-election violence and have been staying with friends or other family members or on their own. We are also still working on nailing down the land that we hope to start building on very soon. Hopefully we will not only be building the maize mill on that land, but also a few other businesses such as a chicken coop and greenhouse, which will all also be a huge benefit for the IDP people not only as a source of income but also for them to have access to these things so close to their homes. There is a lot of buzz and excitement around IDP right now, and I can just feel that it is waiting to explode into full force growth, mostly because there are so many passionate and dedicated people helping it along, especially Izzo. I am very proud and thrilled to be a part of it, and will keep everyone posted on how it’s going.

I promised that I would write a little bit about each one of my students, so I am going to just do that here because this post isn’t long enough yet, is it? I really feel like I have the best class ever, and I am growing very close to them and love spending time with them. I will go through and list each kid and then something really short about each of them. ROCKY: so spirited and sweet, also dyslexic and cannot read. He is the smallest kid in the class but makes up for it in charisma and football skills. He is super smart and can do any math problem if you read it to him, but is really struggling and not getting the one-on-one attention that he so badly needs. BILDAD: so well-mannered, most intelligent student in the class and always comes out number one in the exams. He is such a cool kid, sweet, and genuine and overall a real pleasure to have in a classroom. MANYANGUE: first name Gilbert but goes by his last name, a goofy jokester who always has a smile on his face. Sometimes he can seem a little out of it, but when he tries he is always on point. I can tell he also has a particular liking and knack for CRE (Christian Religious Education) and loves to hear the stories in this subject and remembers more details than anyone else. His smile is contagious! CHELIMO: first name Francis, but also goes by his last name. He gets bullied a little bit by the other kids, but takes it in stride. He likes to show off his intelligence, but in a harmless way. He loves to talk and tell stories, and has a great imagination. ENOS: seemingly very serious much of the time, and concentrates very hard when he wants to. He is ery logical and straightforward, and eager to please. MISATI: first name Geoffrey, so quiet and timid, but heartbreakingly gentle. I will never forget the time I saw him playing alone at recess with a newborn puppy, he was so unlike all of the other kids who were poking it with sticks and chasing it…all he wanted to do was pet it softly and hold it. Has beautiful eyes and eyelashes, very reserved and a sweetheart but struggles a bit in class. AMKALI: tough guy, proud with a good sense of humor. Needs some academic work, but when he tries can usually do fairly well. It is the sweetest thing because he gets very bashful around me, like if I try to look him in the eye or speak directly to me, he becomes like that dwarf from snow white and can barely even hold his head up! BRIAN JOHN: has a severe stutter, the worst I’ve ever heard, but doesn’t let it phase him. He was number 2 in exams last semester and is also very naturally smart. He is a great artist, and draws pictures for me all the time-my favorite was the Obama one I got during the second week of school! VINCENT: very small, reminds me exactly of a young Dave Chapelle, but better looking! He is a bit quiet, but extremely obedient and well-behaved. OBUYA: I LOVE this kid!!! He has become one of the students I am closest with. He knows how to command a classroom and the attention of other people in general. Unconventionally smart, says things and asks questions that you might not expect, and always seems to be looking out for me. He is hilarious and has great timing. He seems to be liked by everyone. A lot of the time he hangs out with me during breaks and we play games, and even a couple days ago he spent break singing for me! It was the sweetest thing. I feel like he is one of the kids that really respects me the most, and I think with the proper care he could turn out to be a stellar and well-rounded student. ANDREW MUSANGUE: also a bit quiet, but a big smiler. He is very sweet and curious but unassuming. A good kid in general. The other students love to talk about how strong he is. ANDREW OTIENO: when he smiles, it makes me so happy! He is a very smart student, but in a very reserved way, as in he doesn’t boast about it or even show it to the class all that often. He is really good at his multiplication tables. He is very respectful and sweet. CLINTON: my dark horse! He has a bit of a temper and can be mischievous, but he is very smart and eager to learn. You can tell that he loves to do well in school and is very proud that he does. He was the most improved student in last term’s exams, and came all the way up to number 3. He is also another great footballer. ERIC: I’m so sad, he hasn’t been at school since the beginning of the new term. I think it is due to fees, and I’ve enquired about potentially sponsoring him for this term because he has so much potential and is one of those kids that I really enjoy being around. He is a little quiet, but when he smiles it lights up a room for me, and there is a sincerity in his eyes that fascinates me, but also makes me wonder what he has seen in his short lifetime. He and Bildad are the 2 most clever kids who know that they are smart, but don’t need to remind everyone, and it is a natural ability. ELVIS GISORE: beautiful eyes and a sweet face. He gets frustrated a bit easily, but also is willing to do the work, even when it is hard with him. Likes to feel validated I think, and gets very proud when he does his work well. CHARITY: a new student this term. I do not think her English is very good, which makes her painfully shy. The only times I’ve seen her come alive are when we were playing hangman and around the world as a class. I can tell she is eager to please, but definitely needs academic help. ROSE: such a firecracker, but in a subtle way if that makes sense. Her jokes are few and far between but always funny. She isn’t afraid to give anyone a hard time or tell what she’s thinking, and doesn’t take shit from anyone. PAULINE: sensitive but very smart. I can tell school is very important to her; she is very serious about it and she always works hard. She is the tallest in the class, and also I think one of the oldest, and she can be very silly and fun. ROWENA: also a new student this term, but polar opposite of Charity. She is strong-minded and feisty, and always eager to give answers aloud in class. She’s also not afraid to give it right back to the boys, and she does have a bit of a troublemaking streak in her. But she means well, and I think she really looks up to me. EDINAH: Also quiet but in a shy way, and once you get to know her out of the classroom setting that almost disappears. She has improved immensely according to my teaching partner, who says that when she first came to Olympic she could barely speak English or read. She is very good at math; she still lacks a bit of confidence, but is definitely getting better each day. I absolutely am in love with my students, and you all should definitely check out our class picture…there is a link to it on my twitter to the right of this post! I am so proud of them, and can’t wait to spend the rest of my time watching them grow. That’s it for now, thinking of all of you and sending love from Kenya! xoxo

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.

IDP Camp part 2

...but they also carry that dirty water back in old sulfuric acid containers that leech sulfur into their water and is basically poisoning them. But we are working with this same camp every two weeks, and i think great things are in the making. There are no jobs for the people either, so one of the sustainable things we are doing in addition to food etc. is working to buy land to build a flour mill, which would give some people work but also serve the community who right now walk several kms to the nearest mill. Since im going to be here for 6 months, i am kind of being groomed to help head the project. Two of my favorite people ive met so far are Loren, a volunteer from texas who will be here till september, and Izzo, a kenyan who helps out the Fadhili organization a lot and heads the idp trips. The two of them have been showing me the ropes and they are really cooj people i get along with really well and who seem to have similar ideals and goals to me. So we will see how it goes. In a couple hours ill be going back for my third trip, this time with a small group and just food. The first time i went we also went to hells gate national park, where we cycled 15 kms alongside wild buffalo, zebras, warthogs giraffes and other creatures, and also did an awesome hike to these beautiful hotsprings. It was so fun!! anyway, ill post idp pictures on my twitter when i have a chance so definitely check that out. thats it for now, hope everyone is doing well, and sending love from kenya! <3

IDP Camp part 1

Hi everyone! I just wanted to start out by telling anyone who has seen the news or travel warnings lately not to worry. Those incidents happened in the area near the border with somalia, which is a volitile area as it is and also just about as far from me as possible. So dont worry about me, we are safe here in nairobi area! Everything has been going great here. My students are still wonderful, and are currently in exams before their holiday for the month of august. Ive been having a hard time because some of them havent been able to take exams because they cant pay their school fees, but I might try to help them with that without them actually knowing who paid for it to avoid being seen as an atm, which happens often. Hopefully Ill be able to work something out with Buddy, the school director, once he gets back from manchester, england for a soccer match..his first trip out of kenya ever! Now on to something that is becoming a large part of my life and will be for the rest of my time here, the internally displaced peoples camps (IDP). After the last elections here in kenya in end of 2007 to start of 2008, extreme violence broke out because certain tribes and peoples thought the results were unfair, and felt that it was their tribes turn to hold the presidency. Tribalism is more alive and well in african countries than people may think, and what happened in kenya is perfect evidence of that. So basically and completely oversimplified, people literally went around with machetes or whatever else they could find and killed their neighbors, friends, coworkers, and anyone else who was of what they considered the wrong tribe. People fled their homes just to survive, and ive talked to several people including my teaching partner whe have said it was completly terrifying chaos, and apparently in kibera where i work was one of the worst areas. Some even tried seeking refuge in churches, only to be burned alive or murdered inside. As people fled not knowing where they would end up, they could only take what they could carry, which was basically nothing, especially because of the panic factor. They scattered around and formed these clusters of communities which have become these idp camps. The un high commission on refugees came in right after the violence broke out and donated tents, which have become these peoples permanent homes. And i use the word tent very loosely, as a single persom wouldnt even consider camping for a day in these homes where 6, 7 or even 9 people in one familys case eat cook, sleep, sit, and live day to day. What the un and the red cross did was admirable, but they havent been back to these camps since. If they could only see how these people are living today in squalor and constantly on the brink of starvation. Im already starting to tear up just writing this, and the first time I went to the camp and went around visiting families and hearing their stories, it literally took my breath away and i couldnt help but breakdown. It is almost indescribable, and evem as someone who studies and reads about situations like this all the time, nothing compares to sitting in a one room tent where even i cant stand up fully as dust sweeps through filling the humid thick air and the wind cruelly whips the tent flaps threatening to blow away a woman and her familys entire life-all while watching her nurse the newest member of the camp community..her 2 week old daughter Lucy. It is absolutely devastating. But they have a small sliver of hope, which as i paraphrase how one man living there so eloquently put it, lies in us and the work that we do when we visit this camp. What me do is buy flour, sugar, rice and cooking fat in bulk and spend the night before dividing it all out in to small baggies to bd distributed the next day to the families at the camp. Without the food we bring them, these families would literally have nothing. They depend on it, and even though we come every 2 weeks consistently, they are always afraid we wont show up and we find that theyve saved some of what little we gave them 2 weeks before just in case. It is pretty intense. Sometimes we also try to bring little extra things here and there, like clothes and shoes, and wednesday when i went out fnr the second time with just 2 other people, one girl bought a bunch of diapers, sanitary napkins, soap, and a few lanterns for the families with kids in school and babies to replace the toxic homemade light contraptions they make that cover the room in soot. The other day we also did a medical clinic, which was amazing. A former volunteer donated a bunch of medicines and we had a doctor on site who saw every patient, diagnose d them, and recommended medicines we had available for treatment which we distributed to them. We treated everything from deworming to infections and almost everyone, especially the kids, had coughs because the wind kicks something wicked at night and the tents offer minimal protection. We also had a womens clinic where each woman was g iven a pregnancy and thd main focus was trying to get the women on birth control. There is a big social stigma around birth control but no one can afford having more mouths to feed. Also there is a big problem with young girls and prostitution where they go in to the town thats like one big truckstop and make money for being with the truck drivers. There are a myriad of problems they are faced with daily, including the fact that they not only have to walk 5 km to the nearest dirty water...

A typically wonderful day

Today was a wonderful day. It started when 2 students from olympic academy came to my house to walk me to the school to avoid the mess of getting lost again. They were older, class 5 boys, and pretty quiet, but knew exactly where they were going and led me purposefully to our destination. When i arrived, my class was in the middle of a science lesson where they learned all about the eye and sight. After that lesson, they went to break, and then i taught them their social studies lesson where we continued to discuss the needs of our community, how we meet them, and what problems we face in trying to meet them. We discussed everything from aids and corruption to government and natural disasters. Quite honestly, the students blew me away with their level of engagement and the calibur of questions they asked. I couldnt have been happier or more proud of them, especially given the difficulty of the material and the level of maturity it required. Then we all ate lunch together as a class, played soccer and took photos. Some of my program staff came to visit during lunch, so that was a lot of fun. The kids had computer class after lunch, so mx teaching partner carole and i just sat around discussing the current state of kenya and politics and life in general. She couldnt be a sweeter woman. After a bit, she decided to invite me back to her house in kibera for tea while the kids were finishing computers. I was so humbled by her and her husband alexs generousity and hospitality. They live in a one room shack in the slums without running water, electricity, or anything else we would take for granted as given. It nearly broke my heart when carol took out a rusty old can to shake out their nearly last few shillings to go buy milk for our tea. I tried to tell her it wasnt necessary, but also had to keep in mind that it is an insult to refuse when someone offers you to take food and drink with them. They also fed me a mix of beans and maize called githeri, but i insisted alex take the majority of mine as he had worked all night and hadnt eaten yet that day. In keeping with the trve african spirit, i find kenyans no different: they have nothing, but are willing to give you everything. It is absolutely inspiring and helps me to again believe in the genuine good that can come from humankind but is so often overshadowed by violence and hate. After some hearty discussion and a good amount of inquiries about life in america compared to kenya, carol and i left alex and headed back to school. At the end of the day, the same 2 boys walked me home, this time talkative and full of eager questions for me. They made me promise to visit them in class 5 tomorrow, and stayed to visit for a bit at the house. It was such a beautiful day, the kind i hope everyone in the world one day is lucky enough to experience. Tomorrow afternoon, i will be leaving town to work on a project i hope to become increasingly involved in, which is working in an idp, or internally displaced peoples, camp. We go tuesday at 4, then do a cycling tour amidst the wild animals of hells gate national park wednesday morning, then spend the rest of the time till thusday evening delivering food and medical aid and hearing the stories of the people living in the camps. Many people lost everything during the post election violence of 2007-2008, and are now barely surviving in the deplorable conditions of there camps. I will write with more details after i go, but i am very excited to start getting involved in this project. Thats it for now, love from kenya!

Jambo (hello in Kiswahili) Kenya!

Hi everyone! Ive decided to make this blog also for my 6 month volunteer trip in Kenya. So far, ive been having a wonderful time. I came a week early to stay at a friends place who is a journalist here in nairobi and to get acquainted with my new home! Through him and his roommate ive met some really great people who showed me around and have become good friends who i will continue to spend time with while im here. I started my program and moved into my house where around 12 other volunteers live as well. We have a host mom grace, her 11 month old son roy, her nephew tony who is in grade school and monica who cooks wonderfully and cleans and i think is also related. I work at olympic academy in a place called kibera, which is the largest slum im all of africa. The school is great, i am teaching class 3, which is equal to around grade 3. There are 14 students, 3 girls and the rest boys. I partner teach with a lady named carol, and we switch of leading lessons. She seems great and is a teacher with similar ideas and strategies to me, so that is great. I posted pictures of the room on my twitter page, which you can see a link to in the top right corner of this page. The only snag ive hit so far was getting lost walking home from the school in the heart of kibera..not somewhere you want to be lost at all. Needless to say, i required rescuing-the program staff had to send me a taxi-but only after i gave it a good 30 minute try! so far everything is great. The program staff are really cool people, some of whom i can tell i will become good friends with. The organization is called Fadhili Community, if youd like to visit their website. Ill be updating this blog and my twitter periodically, but youll have to excuse the gramatical errors as i am typing this from my phone! sending love from Kenya!

LEAP girls and visit to Langa township

As I previously talked about, I have been mentoring five girls at the LEAP school throughout the semester, ages 15-16. My friend Ali and I have been working together as the girls’ mentors, and it has been such a fun experience. Getting to know them has been a slow process, because principally, there is a bit of a language barrier. At first, Ali and I weren’t sure if the girls even liked us, because they would be very quiet and shy when we talked to them, and then giggle whenever we would talk. We felt like we weren’t really connecting with them, like we all weren’t on the same page, so Bones organized a meeting with all of us to talk about how things had been going. During this talk, it was revealed that a lot of the time, the girls were finding it really hard to understand our accents, slang we used, and the manner in which we talk. It wasn’t that they didn’t like us or didn’t want to get to know us, but the exact opposite. They wanted so badly to just sit around and chat and get to know us, but were feeling shy and embarrassed that they didn’t feel 100% proficient in their English. As Bones explained, they are actually more intimidated by each other than Ali and I, because their harshest critics tend to be their peers, where if they slip up with one little mistake, someone is always there to correct and poke fun. Once we understood this, Ali and I made an effort to make them feel as comfortable as possible with us. We tried speaking slower and more clearly, which I think helped a lot. After this meeting, something just clicked, and we instantly got so much closer with the girls. We began bonding more like good friends and really getting to know them, all the while still helping them out with their school work and maintaining the mentor-mentee relationship.

Since the semester is almost over, a couple weekends ago Ali and I decided to take our girls for a nice day on the weekend where they could choose something they wanted to do and we could spend the day hanging out, talking and bonding. The girl’s chose to go to this casino called Grant West, which is also a hotel, ice skating rink, mini-mall, movie theatre, and almost anything else you could want to do. They wanted to go ice-skating, so Ali and I met them at their school in Saturday morning. We took the train with them to Grand West, which was interesting. Trains in South Africa are an experience in themselves. During any given rush-hour time, the trains will be absolutely packed full, with people even straddling on the outside of the train between two cars to find space to ride. There is only first class, and third class (a ridiculously irrelevant situation left over from apartheid times), and there is no tangible difference between the two, besides the fact that first class will be slightly less packed. It is an honor system, so many people don’t even buy tickets because in third class, there are so many people that it would be impossible to go around asking for tickets from each person, and so they only really check first class, and only some times. Most of the people on third class are black or colored. On our trip, people were giving us sideways glances on third class, because we were two white girls with a group of 5 black teenage girls, and this was something they probably aren’t very used to seeing. Every time I’ve taken third class on the train, I’ve pretty much been the only white person on there (aside from whatever Americans I might be with). En route to Grand West, Ali and I both got a marriage proposal each, whereby the men would go up to our LEAP girls and tell them that he was taking one of us home with him to become his wife. Pretty funny stuff.

Once we got there, we had a really great day. The girls decided they didn’t really want to ice skate, and that they wanted to see a movie instead. The movie they wanted to see was My Best Friend’s Girl, which is a highly inappropriate movie for 15 year olds, so we vetoed that option. It ended up being a little awkward, because we were expecting the girls to come with money enough to pay for themselves, and they didn’t. They in turn were expecting us to pay for everything, not out of selfishness or greed but just because apparently it is customary that girls, in their culture in the township they are from, are never expected to pay for anything, so they never bring any money. They might have also assumed that we had infinite amounts of money because we are American, but either way, we had to explain the situation to them. In the end, I think they felt bad for assuming and might have been a little embarrassed, but Ali and I agreed that we could pay for their entrance and that we would buy them lunch. What was cute was that, after lunch was done, the girls all pooled their own money (with 6 rand help from us) to surprise us with ice cream cones. It was really sweet of them, and showed that it had just been a miscommunication. We had so much fun that day, just gossiping, talking about everything from school, boys, crushes, family, life in America, and all that. It was such a well-spent Saturday, and I think we really connected with them on a whole other level.

After lunch, Bones came and picked all of us up to take us home. All 8 of us piled into this tiny Euro car, and Bones had to take alternate routes to avoid the police checkpoints he knew were stationed outside of Langa, that township that both he and the girls are from. It was my first time in Langa, and the afternoon that followed was pretty incredible. The girls ended up taking us on a tour of the entire township, showing us various places that they frequent, and special sites and all that. I think what they were most excited to show us was the “sheep heads,” which is basically exactly what it sounds: skinned, decapitated sheep heads roasting on an open barbeque. The girls took turns grossing us out by proclaiming their favorite parts to eat, from brains to ears to eyeballs. The most special part was that each girl took us to her home and introduced us to their families. Most of their houses were simple, one to two room houses, some more developed than others. Township houses were built by the government under apartheid, and the inequities and unjust nature of what they were allocated is very apparent. Each “house” is connected to the next in a paper-doll fashion, and there are just lines and lines of houses, all so close and crowded. One of the girls talked about how when fires are so dangerous because when they happen in one house, they quickly become massive because each house just catches so quickly because they aren’t made out of the best material, and are so close to each other. Some of the girls seemed a little reticent to show us their places (although we never asked, it was all completely their idea), because I think they thought we might judge them based on the size of how much decor they had. One girl took us into her house, and quickly exclaimed, “See! It’s just one room, one window, and one door. Nothing special.” Each family member was so happy to see us, and would thank us for coming to see them and for taking the time to visit South Africa. We were sure to clarify that this was a pleasure all our own, and that we were so grateful they let us into their homes and welcomed us. Even walking around Langa, you feel the sense of community. As both the girls and Bones have said, everyone knows everyone in the town. People wave, joke, talk, gossip, and argue in the streets. They get really excited to see foreigners (we were the ONLY white people I saw the entire time, besides this one very touristy and lost-looking older European man), and the girls said that they were even getting special attention from LEAP students who normally wouldn’t have even said hi to them, but did because they were with Americans. Kids run around playing everywhere where there’s space, and you just get a certain feeling being there that I can’t really provide adequate words for. It was an immensely special day for me, and I will remember it forever.

After we parted from the girls, Bones took us to his place, where we hung out in his room for a bit, and even met his mom. According to him, she is the gossip queen and loves to talk and chat and knows everything about everyone. She was so sweet when we met her, and gave us a huge hug and welcomed us with incredible warmth and love. We then went off to a shebeen, which is a place in townships that is usually someone’s home or a tavern-like place, where they sell alcohol and people (mostly men) go to hang out, watch sport, listen to music, and drink. There were many extremely drunk people there, and we obviously stood out like sore thumbs (only white people and for most of the time the only girls) and got approached several times, one guy even going so far as to ask if we were models…haha! But it was fun to see Bones in his element and meeting all his friends and seeing what partying and hanging out is like on his side of Cape Town. I went home content and feeling very privileged to have been able to experience something that most people will never be able to say they’ve done. And let me say, I really think those people are missing out on something great.

Oceanview township homestay

Two weekends ago, we did a homestay in a colored township community called Oceanview. In South Africa, the term “colored” differs from “black” in that colored people are of mixed race, and have lighter skin, while “black” is used for black Africans. Under apartheid, colored people, because they were “less black” due to their lighter skin, were given preferential treatment over the blacks. I’ll talk a little about the manifestations of this is current times later.

I was really excited to meet my family but also a little nervous of course, but I really couldn’t have gotten a better one! Another CIEE student, Megan, and I stayed with the Bowman family. The parents, Donovan and Gadija, were a young couple of the sweetest disposition. They had two kids, Caitlyn (3 years old) and Darren (6 years old), who were so cute and ecstatic that we were there to stay with them. They also had the cutest little dog, Sandy, and a very nice house that they opened up to us with so much warmth and welcome.

We first arrived on Friday night to have dinner in the local school’s auditorium. There was a huge feast set up with music, big tables, so much food, and entertainment as well. Each family was sitting at a table, eagerly holding up a number (which we students had all been assigned earlier) waiting to connect with the students who would be staying with them. We all made our way to our new families, and sat down to enjoy a great dinner and some introductory conversations with our families. From the start, I knew we were going to get along so well with our family, they were so laid back and so enthusiastic to ask us questions, answer our questions, know all about our lives and also have some good discussion about important topics. Oceanview has a lot of problems with the youth dropping out of school, having drug or alcohol problems, and gang activity, but they are very proactive about attempting alter this path. They have dance, singing, and other talent-centered programs which get the kids doing something that they are passionate about, but also keeps them busy and off of the streets, not permitting them the opportunity to even get involved in the negative activities that occur there. So at the dinner, we had some of those kids perform for us, and it was extremely enjoyable. You could tell from the vibe the performances gave off that they had worked SO hard on their songs and routines and were very proud to share their talents with us.

From the dinner, our family took us to Donovan’s parent’s house, where the kids were fast asleep on the couches. Because they were passed out, the four of us made the executive decision to leave the kids at their grandma’s house, and we proceeded to go out to a party in Simonstown. Under the apartheid regime’s Group Areas Act, certain areas of land and cities or towns were designated solely for whites. Despite the fact that blacks or coloreds may have been living on this land for generations, forced removals occurred where they were made to abandon their homes and lives that they knew to be relocated to areas that were acceptable for them to live in, and were “black” or “colored” areas specifically. Often, families were made to move from areas where soil was fertile with pleasant climates and other favorable conditions to dry, dirt-filled towns they would have never chosen to move to on their own accord. The significance of Simonstown in this situation is a majority of the people who live in Oceanview today were those who were forcibly removed from their homes in Simonstown. Therefore, many of them have feelings of nostalgia for their former homes and some even resent Oceanview, citing various complaints that make it less desirable than Simonstown. Anyway, so we went to this random charity dance party in Simonstown, where people bring their own bottles of whatever alcohol they prefer, and lots of snacks or food, sit at a table, and drink, dance, and karaoke the night away. It turns out it was a costume party, and all the people there were dressed in school uniforms. There was a vast mixture of people there, some old, some young, but I guess most of the people were staff from a hospital in the area. It was such a great time, Megan and I, along with a couple other CIEE students whose families brought them as well, definitely karaoked to Britney Spears…haha. We also had the chance to have some pretty deep conversations about various topics, which I really enjoyed.

The next day, on Saturday, we spent the morning getting to know the family and being introduced to the kids. Darren immediately took a strong liking to me, which might have been due to the fact that I had brought 3 little squishy USC balls (a football, soccer ball, and one we later deemed to be a volleyball) for them as presents...first impressions are KEY. We spent the morning playing various random games with them before we started our day. Our family took us to this gemstone factory where a few members of the family worked, and Donovan used to work, and it was really interesting. They had all the big machinery there, and Donovan taught us a little about the process through which the rocks go and showed us some of the behind the scenes stuff. The products they were selling were gorgeous, and it was a fun time. Then we went off to the grocery store to get all the supplies for the braai (BBQ) we were about to have that night. Darren and I had a ball at the grocery store. He spent most of the time riding piggy-back style (he was really light so it didn’t hurt too bad) and we invented this game he called “plus.” In this game, I would give him two numbers, and he would add them together and give me the answer. Who knew the kid would love practicing his math facts so much? We then moved on to “take away”, which was a little more challenging, but he still got most of it. For the rest of the trip, I was constantly begged with pleading eyes, “can we play plus please?” It was so sweet. Megan also taught him one of those hand-clapping/ jive-like games that I also knew, and that alternated in demand with “plus” as well at every possible opportunity. We went home to watch the rugby game, which the South African Springboks lost terribly, but we continued our celebrations without letting it get us down too much. The braai we had that night was SO fun! So much of their family came, many from right down the street, but some from up to 45 minutes away, just to meet us and spend the night, once again, eating, drinking, talking, dancing, and of course karaokeing into the morning hours. I spent the night floating around, talking to various members of the family, but I found it really interesting to talk to the group of younger boy cousins, all around my age. We talked about music, movies, their impressions of what America is like (they admitted the only information they had they got from movies), my own impressions of South Africa, and other random topics, and I really enjoyed myself. Megan and some of the older people were having some good talks about Barack Obama (people here LOVE to talk about him and know everything about what we think about him), and I definitely karaoked Michael Jackson’s “Thriller” while Megan moonwalked (or tried to). Donovan and I discovered our shared love (borderline obsessions) with Bob Marley, and proceeded to “karaoke” (there were no words on the screen, we just sang along to the music) to “Is This Love?” All in all, it was a great time.

Sunday morning, I awoke to the sweetest thing possible. At 5:30 am, Caitlyn decided to come upstairs, into our room, wake me up and climb into bed with me to snuggle. As much as I needed to sleep (I had two papers due Monday that I knew I’d be up all night writing), I couldn’t help but welcome it. The kids were so loving and affectionate, and really loved having us there and in the end, did not want us to leave. By the time Sunday came around, we were already christened their “big sisters”, and they kept asking why we had to leave and when we were coming back. Gadija kept calling Caitlyn and telling her we needed our sleep, but this only invited Darren to also crawl up into my bed and snuggle, kicking Caitlyn out and over to Megan’s bed. One of my favorite things about Darren was the fact that he had this one move, Legends of the Sea, which he was COMPLETELY obsessed with. He would watch it once in the morning, and then at least once, if not more in the afternoon and evening. I think he watched it a total of 5 or 6 times in the span of Saturday and Sunday, and was able to drag me over with him maybe 2 of those times to watch snippets of it. He was also in love with karate, and thus, Kung Foo Panda (the movie), and also WWE wrestling, which totally reminded me of my little brother, who used to be obsessed with wrestling as well. I thoroughly impressed Darren with my (limited) knowledge of some of the wrestler’s names and key moves, so I have my bro Caelun to thank for that. ☺ We spent the afternoon cooking all kinds of amazing food with Gadija, including Malva pudding (this stuff is AMAZING, like the best cake-like stuff drenched in homemade custard…YES!) and Cook Sisters, which are kind of like donuts with coconut and goodness. She made us so much wonderful food (even though we were both vegetarians, which she accommodated wonderfully), and everything was from scratch. I was basically in awe. Some of the younger cousins and Darren and I had an intense soccer match that afternoon (with a completely deflated ball with a gaping hole in it), and spent the afternoon playing different random games, ending with the three boys attempting to explain and show me how to play cricket, which was really entertaining. We then brought all of the glorious food over to Gadija’s mother’s house, where we quickly met more family and ate so much before we had to head over to the buses and say our goodbyes. It was so sad, but Megan and I agreed we are definitely going back, because it is only a very easy train ride away. And we didn’t leave empty-handed either. Gadija sent us both home with Tupperware containers full of portions of the food we had just eaten (she told me it was a snack for the morning hours when I’d be up writing my paper that night), and a gift bag of presents representing South Africa, including a baseball cap and water bottle, stickers of the South African flag, Knick Knacks (amazing Cheeto-like South African snacks) and an assortment of other snacks she deemed typically South African. They told us that we were the first students they had ever hosted, and that based on their experiences with us, they wanted to do it again at every possible opportunity, which made me feel really good. Overall, it was a weekend I will never forget.

One of the most interesting things I took away from this was an increased real-world (as opposed to academic) understanding of the effects of apartheid and racial tensions that still exist. I mean, you can read all the books and write all the research papers you want on the topic, but nothing beats actually being right in the middle of it all and seeing it manifested in real people. It makes it quite tangible and gives it a face. There is still a lot of serious strain on the relations between coloreds and blacks. There are a lot of stereotypes and misjudgments that exist on both sides of the others. Even before I left for Oceanview, some of my black South African friends were joking asking me why I would ever want to go there, and that they would be scared to show their faces there, but I think there was some truth behind their jokes. Namely, some of the colored people (especially the older generations who really lived during apartheid) are angry at the state of the country, and blame a lot of it on the new black government. Their argument is that under apartheid, they lived much better than they are living now. This is of course, because they were given privileged status because they were lighter in complexion than blacks. But, and I think very misguidedly, they take these grievances and warp them to become evidence for their statements of blacks being incompetent and unable to run the country efficiently. Some even go so far as to racistly claim that blacks are lazy, incompetent and stupid, and claim that they would rather go back to the apartheid system rather than live as they are now. This was pretty shocking to me actually, and Bones (the LEAP coordinator), who I am becoming increasingly good friends with, kind of had to talk me through understanding this because I couldn’t wrap my mind around it. My question was this: is there absolutely no sense of national South African unity or identity, because if there were any inkling of that, how could one ever wish upon their fellow citizens a return to the egregious treatment that was the typical black person’s experience under apartheid? I still don’t fully understand it conceptually (and maybe that is just due to my own biases and education and personality), but I do see the simplistic logic in it, despite how self-interested I think it is and how much I disagree with it. Life, for colored people, was hands-down better then the situation now, so why, as self-interested rational beings, would they not want a return to that system that gave them special status and benefited them over others, thus allowing them more opportunity to thrive and succeed? Now that blacks are allowed to be on the same level as them, there is more competition for jobs and housing, schools are more crowded and the education system more burdened, along with other social issues that they point out as “flaws” in the new government. I was to put it out there also that my family did not personally hold any of these sentiments, but were very good about taking the time to explain them to us and give us both sides.

My counter-argument bases around one thing: time. Apartheid only ended a little over 10 years ago. How can one expect a country where these glaringly obvious racist and inhumane ways were seen as normal and were so ingrained in society to change immediately over to an egalitarian, liberal democratic society immediately? These things take great amounts of time, because what actually needs to be changed is the psyche of people, which is an extremely difficult task. The way people internalize information and their thought processes, actions and feelings need reform, so you can’t expect all the kinks to be worked out in such a short amount of time. Of course, some people may feel like they are sacrificing some personal comforts and maybe even their lives for the cause, but if they had any sense of caring about the future generations, they would realize what they perceive as suffering is a necessary aspect of this total revolution currently being undergone in their country of South Africa. Therefore, I don’t think it is the time for them to abandon their brothers and sisters (whether they be black, white, colored, whatever), but to band together to improve the current conditions and situation and get through it together, knowing it is going to get better along the way. South Africa has come unimaginable leaps and bounds in this past 15 years, and the spirit must be kept alive if it is to continue on that path.

Anyway, those are just my personal insights on what I saw and experienced. Sorry it turned out so long! Hope you all are doing well, and are enjoying reading my lengthy babbling known as blogging ☺

Robben Island, Desmond Tutu, and stormy weather..oh my!

It has been awhile since my last post, but things have just been crazy busy recently and I haven’t had very much time to sit down and write. I’ve still been having the time of my life here, and learning and experiencing so much with every day that comes. I’ll just recap some of the most exciting things that have been happening as of late.

I saw Desmond Tutu speak at my school! It was incredible, even just for sitting in the same room as a man who has had such an immense impact on South African history and post-apartheid thought. In case some might not be as familiar with him, he is an Archbishop, has won the Nobel Peace Prize, and was the chairman of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission in South Africa, which was a worldwide movement following the end of apartheid to overcome the bloodiness and hatred of the past made to foster nationwide healing through uncovering truth and granting forgiveness. In exchange for perpetrators coming forward to confess their crimes and showing repentance, they would be granted amnesty if deemed by the commission to be expressing the whole truth and nothing but the truth, and the actions were politically motivated and not excessive. This system has many flaws in itself, including difficulties in ensuring the “whole truth” is being told, with displaying “true” remorse, victims feeling unsatisfied or cheated, etc. but largely, it has been a fairly effective path of moving on and pressing forward into the future as opposed to getting hung up on the past, which cannot be changed. The occasion for Tutu’s presence was a debate among many other intellectuals, former political prisoners and human rights activists from Liberia, Congo, and South Africa. The debate was entitled “Speak Truth to Power”, which centered on Kerry Kenndy’s book of the same name, and she headed the debate. It was all about not just sitting back and accepting what those in powerful positions decide to impose upon the masses, and making sure that the public is problematizing and questioning each action and policy being passed in their country. It was really interesting, and a lot of the speakers ended up emphasizing the importance of the youth not being passive but getting involved in what goes on in their country and government, and how we are the ones who hold the key to change now and for future generations. I enjoyed it, especially since as Desmond Tutu was walking in, I was sitting in the aisle seat and he looked me right in the eye and greeted me! I was expecting it to be a momentous occasion and to not even be able to get in to see him, but it was in an intimate venue and felt very personal. Apparently he comes to UCT a lot, so for many South African students, it was no big deal.

Another amazing experience we had was going to Robben Island, which served as an isolated prison during apartheid, especially for political prisoners. It is probably most famous for being the place where Nelson Mandela was incarcerated for 18 of the 27 years of his life he spent in prison. We toured around the island on a bus with a very lively and knowledgeable tour guide, who showed us many of the sites, including the mass leper graves (the island was previously used as a spot of exile for lepers where thousands died and never received proper burials nor even had their bodies identified, and when it was to become a prison, they simply built on top of the thousands of corpses); the lime quarry where prisoners were forced to do hard labor for hours, and which also ended up as a place where great minds would debate and conspire, formulating the birth of a revolution while out of earshot of the guards; and the schools, mosques and churches that the people currently living on the island frequent. One of the sites that had the biggest impact on me was this little one room flat, far away from everything else, where Robert Sobukwe, considered during apartheid to be one of the greatest threats to their institution of government and also seen as one of the leading inspirations for the anti-apartheid movement was kept for years in complete isolation until his death. He was the founder of the Pan-Africanist Congress, and led the famed Pass-Law protest, where thousands of blacks burned their hated passbooks that the white government mandated they carry at all time to identify that they were black and regulate where they were allowed to go to regulate their movement and tell if their taxes and fees were all in order (which they often weren’t and this landed many in jail for extended periods of times). It was basically another tool to dehumanize and enumerate blacks, making them seem more like possessions or dogs to be categorized and kept watch on. This protest led to the devastatingly infamous Sharpeville Massacre as well, where police opened fire on hundreds of protesters, killing many (mostly due to gun shots to the BACK-indicating that victims were running away, not pursuing or acting aggressive toward the police). I recommend you Google or Wikipedia any of these terms if you’d like to know more about them, or just ask me. Anyway, what really got me was the way the prison guards were instructed to treat him. It was as if he did not even exist; was nothing more than a window through which to gaze. They were under strict and impenetrable orders to not say a single word to him, nor even acknowledge his existence in the slightest way. Two guards were instructed to stand outside of his house, and if either one so much as glanced at him as if he were more than air, the other was compelled to tell their superiors, and that person would be terminated from their job, and severely punished. I can’t even imagine the dehumanization that he must have felt, and I don’t know how he didn’t go insane under such trying conditions. The strategy of the government was obvious: to completely destroy and break his spirit to ensure that the threat of even the idea of him was totally obliterated. But they had to keep him alive, to avoid the major backlash that would have occurred if word got out that they had killed him or let him die. So instead they let his soul rot away, and another casualty of the revolution was tallied. We also saw Nelson Mandela’s cell, which was powerful, but felt extremely touristy and almost cheapened by the manner in which people were flocking to it talking pictures and how they were acting. We were also rushed, and I would have preferred to have a more individualized and personal experience there, even just a few minutes to quietly reflect, but that wasn’t possible at the time. One of the other more powerful moments for me was the boat ride over to Robben Island, just thinking about how Mandela and all the others must have felt when they took this journey across the ocean; how confused and scared they must have been inside but how courageous and inspiring they were for being able to “speak truth to power” (as the debate discussed earlier suggested) and put their lives on the line for something they so strongly believed in with endless selflessness and conviction, sacrificing themselves to the revolution. That was a unique and reflective experience for me, and it got me thinking about what cause I live for; what it is that I would lay down everything⎯family, friends, comfort, physical and mental stability and wellness, etc.⎯to fight for. I am still figuring that out, by the way, but I have some strong indications and possibilities churning around in my head.

I still need to write about so much, including my homestay this past weekend in a colored township called Oceanview, but I am going to save that for the next post, which I promise will come soon. This one is already long enough as it is, so I’ll break it up into two parts. It is currently torrentially storming and hailing!!! Until later…much love and peace!

LEAP school and South African education

So this week, we started going to the various volunteering sites that we will be helping out throughout the year. There are several choices of various organizations to volunteer with, including the Ark, a refuge for drug addicts, school for children, home for orphans, rehabilitation center, and so much more all in one location; the TB hospital, where kids aged from a couple days old to mid-teens⎯and also a few adults, come for treatment for various stages and strains of the Tuberculosis disease; and schools and sports programs at children’s homes. However, the organization I chose to volunteer with is called the LEAP School of Science and Math, which is a surprisingly well-developed and structured school where children pay a yearly school fee, wear school uniforms, and have (this is of course relatively speaking) a fair amount of resources at their disposal, including some computers, desks, supplies, food, etc.

I am positive a lot of you might be wondering why, out of all these options, I might have picked to donate my time to such a, by comparison, seemingly well-to-do school when there are so many schools especially in the townships of South Africa that have little more than the ground and a stick to write their lessons with nor an adequate building other than a small shack or a mud hut. My answer to this has a lot to do with my recent train of thoughts and manner in which I am trying to formulate my understanding of this complex country and its even more perplexing history. The organizer of our involvement at the LEAP school, Bones, has really had a big impact in developing these concepts in my mind, and I honestly look up to and admire him very much for his openness, his philosophies on education, teaching, politics, and life within and also outside of South Africa. I would try to sum these thoughts up, but I feel it would only be a severe injustice, because hearing him speak with such passion, power and conviction is really more of an experience, and it does not lend itself very readily to brief summation. Therefore, I will just give a little of my thoughts, keeping in mind that I am drawing some of these beliefs and ideas from conversations with him, as well as has been current content and discussion in many of my classes.

Yes, it is true that South Africa has had a, for genuine lack of a more fitting word (and sorry for anyone offended by the bad language), but a seriously fucked up past. There is no other way to put it. Apartheid truly affected every human being in South Africa on the whole: mind, body, soul, spirit, socially, physically…on every level imaginable. I mean, just try to think for a minute that one day, the government decides that you can no longer live in your home, go to school where you do, ride certain buses, go in certain shops and areas, or even go to certain cities, solely on the basis of the color of your skin. Imagine the confusion, resentment, hatred, sorrow this would invoke towards the oppressors, and more devastatingly, upon oneself. Although apartheid has since been terminated, it is obvious that so many of the side effects it produced are still rearing their ugly heads⎯as is evident in a trip to the townships, in the separation that occurs at night clubs, in job and income disparities, etc. One of the systems though, that has been most tragically affected is the education system. Black students were forced to learn in what was considered the “Bantu education system”, whereby complete racial segregation occurred in all institutions of learning. The ideology behind this “Bantu education” was that blacks were culturally “different,” and therefore needed to be separated and educated in a “different” manner. Blacks went to black schools, and whites went to white schools. You can just envision the gross disparities that existed, given the governmental regime and its outlook on the situation, as well as the particulars of the apartheid laws, between a typical “black” school and any given “white” school. Thus, black education was, and frankly still is, far behind that of the privileged white education. For this reason, even now, more whites finish primary and secondary school, are accepted into university, and go on to further education and better job opportunities simply because they have had more opportunity to learn and grow and be intellectually stimulated at a more accelerated rate. Blacks were left behind in this process, and have not been given adequate resources, opportunities, and attention paid to correcting this injustice.

As shocking and egregious as this may seem and in reality is, there are a few different ways to approach dealing with this situation. One way is the victim approach: to sit around and feel sorry for the circumstances and for oneself, talking about how unfair it is, and how much blacks have been oppressed and kept down, and to sit around and wait for others (ie, the government, etc.) to come and change it. While this all is very true, I personally do not believe this to be the best way to go about it. The other way is the proactive approach: to say yes, we have been severely screwed over in our past, but what can we do to take a stand and create change in the system? How can we actively ensure that we are doing all we can to use what we have (however meager it might be) to get ahead on our own and succeed for ourselves? How can we morph and challenge the stereotypes and myths surrounding black education to change the direction that the system has existed in for so long and continues to operate within?

This is really what the LEAP school is all about: progressive action and working for positive change; not feeling sorry and shitty about the past inequities nor focusing on negativity, but instead on what we as a people, community, race, country can do for ourselves and stimulate and inspire in others to follow suit. Not only the system, but the workers within it as well; getting teachers excited about the changes and really loving teaching and coming up with new and innovative ways to teach that encompass all of the students without letting any fall through the cracks. This will prove an exceedingly difficult task, because as I have witnessed even in working in the Los Angeles School system, many teachers nowadays are only about getting tenure then going through the motions day after day, with hardly any deviation from the standardized CRAP curriculum and not teaching the material in a way that allows the students to relate to it and apply it to their own lives. LEAP is all about problematizing and reworking these ideas, and for this reason, I have been motivated with extreme passion to dedicate my time to better understanding and aiding in realizing this dream for the education system and the children of South Africa. The least I can do is to try to make a dent by bringing to the table my knowledge, ideas and resources in combination with those of my peers and others working at the school.

I came to South Africa with this certain mentality partially influenced by the western perceptions of Africa that I have discussed in my previous post, where a small part of me thought that I wanted to help “save” Africa, and work in these severely tragic and underdeveloped areas with destitute people. It is not to say that there is no value in this, nor that I won’t be spending some time doing that myself. But I just think there is so much more to Africa as a continent and South Africa as a country that we tend to overlook and that is overshadowed by theses negative associations. I see real, tangible change and straight-up revolution in what is going on at LEAP, and that is really what inspires me to no end. I wish my words could even begin to portray the extent of my feelings and excitement, but I fear instead my babbling may be cheapening it. Therefore, I will stop here, but I encourage anyone interested in what I am trying to convey and the topic at hand to email me with questions, comments, or anything, because this is something that I am truly exhilarated about and would love to talk to anyone about. Also you can click HERE to go to the LEAP school website, which unfortunately seems out of date, but nonetheless informative.

As I spend more time at the school, I hope to develop stronger feelings and opinions, and I will definitely keep you guys posted. As far as what I will actually be doing in my time at LEAP, we will be assigned 3-5 young children, grades 9-12, to partake in a mentor relationship, whereby we assist the children with schoolwork and project, sit in with them on their classes, participate in extracurricular activities, and sometime just hang out and be a presence in the child’s life, trying to get to know them on a more personal basis. It really is whatever you make of it and whatever you are willing to put into it. Most of the kids come from a township called Langa, and many of them travel very far distances to get to this school. It really is an incredible opportunity for these kids who otherwise would have nothing near the caliber of this school and its education system. It is not only a school focused on learning subjects, but is trying to make active, global, aware, conscious citizens out of the adolescents who matriculate through their doors. LEAP has a “code of conduct” for student, as one student today was explaining to us, that is more geared towards conduct for life, one rule including being “open-minded and willing to talk and discuss”, which this student explained is something that is culturally different and fairly difficult for her to come to terms with, but that she is accepting the challenge. It’s funny, when she mentioned that she was a little unsure and how much she liked the school’s code of conduct, I was expecting a shallow complaint such as not liking the school uniforms or the food, but instead I received that pieces of unexpectedly insightful commentary. Anyway, I said I would stop myself from going on and on, and here I am again. So…I’m sure I’ll be writing on this again soon. I look forward to any insight on this that anyone might have. Thanks, and much love.

**Also, check out the new "Links I Love" part of my blog where I'll be posting links to sites that I find interesting or informative, and I just uploaded some more fun photos as well!