Kwa heri, readers. Farewell.

This is my final blog.   If there is one word to sum up my Kenyan encounter, it is "engrossing."    If there is one compelling memory, it is the warm smiles of Kenyans everywhere and always, young and old.  If  there is one significant gesture, it is that Kenyans invariably greet one another with a handshake, a sign of peace.

 

Our stopover in Amsterdam for 3 days before returning home is a deliberate decompression.  It will take that time and more to digest two months of rich experience.

 

 

Before our final time in Nairobi, Michael and I spent three days in Lamu, two of only a handful of tourists because of its proximity to Somalia.    This small coastal town is a visual treat, on a par with Santorini in Greece.   The owner of our hotel, Baytil Ajaib, has become an expert on Swahili architecture and sculpture because of his personal involvement in the restoration of his place.  

Paul gave us an in-depth architectural and cultural tour of the town and of nearby Shela.   Unfortunately, I arrived in Lamu just recovering from a bad tummy, and Michael spent a day sick with one when we were there.  But we spent our final day on the magnificent beach at Shela, truly one of the most spendid beaches  I have ever seen.  I named it the "miracle beach."  I understand perfectly now why people return to exotic Lamu and in particular to Shela time and again.  It would be bliss to walk that beach every morning and late afternoon, and bathe in the warm (28 to 30 degree C.) Indian Ocean. 

As my Kenyan friend Dorothy was in Nairobi while we were there from November 9th to 11th, she became our guide around town.  On Thursday, the 10th,we rode public transit downtown, and she showed me the major landmarks while Michael was at the computer store. 

After lunch in a very popular local restaurant where we were the only mzungos (which means it is not on the tourist radar), we caught another bus to ride out to the suburbs to see a cultural show with traditional Kenyan song and dancing.  After a matatu ride back to the downtown in Nairobi's crazy rush hour traffic, Dorothy and I connected with "Job" whom we had met earlier in the day at an upscale tourist shop at the Hilton to look for fabric from the Congo.  I have become enamoured with this earthy woven cloth.  We ended up walking to a part of town that made me more than a little nervous when I was asked to walk up a very dark staircase at a small hotel.  (Think Hastings Street in Vancouver except Nairobi is not my town.)

Swallowing hard and after Dorothy's reconnoiter, I walked up that stairwell and found myself looking at fabric and other items from West Africa.  When the first connection didn't have what I wanted, we went to a second place.  After some tough negotiations while dusk fell and I as a mzungo tourist had to get off the streets,  I did buy a piece for a third of what I had paid in Lamu, not quite as good quality but definitely a good colour match.  When I asked Job if the vendorsI had met were refugees, he said they were traders.  So there you are, folks.  Another adventure.  I found the wholesalers for the Congo trade who were willing to show me many masks, furniture, and much more if I'd had the time and money.

Yesterday on the 11th, Michael visited the National Museum while I shopped at the stores on site.  We then travelled across town where we  visited a large emporirum of mostly Kenyan products and attempted to do some gift shopping at one of the famous Masai markets held weekly in the city.  It is an amazing experience of high pressure sales and tough bargaining. I was impressed, though, to finally see handicrafts and products produced locally.   Last night, our final evening in Kenya, Dorothy, her daughter Joanne, and Susan, the teacher I met my first day in Nairobi, all came to our hotel for a final visit.  I have so enjoyed the opportunity to become friends with women of about my age, to share our life stories, perspectives and "sisterhood."  I look forward to keeping in contact with them. 

So...I have experienced the tourist side of Kenya as well as "real life" Kenya, particularly in Kakamega.  I have come to know the challenges of Kenyan life and to  experience the joys.  One of those joys is the marvellous people I have met.  Working with the ACCES staff and teachers, and talking to them about education, life, politics, culture, gender and so much more of the "stuff of life" was amazing.  I have had an insight into the young professional class in Kenya, and have seen how talented, bright and capable they are.  Having now been a bit player in the development of the new leadership group in education if not in the country, I am optimistic about the future of Kenya, and gratified that I was able to provide some support and encouragement.   I am proud to be a part of ACCES which for 18 years now has been providing genuine opportunity and training for Kenyans. 

Michael and I also met other professionals in the community, shop keepers, tradespeople, many children, a few university students, our Unitarian family, the drivers on our safaris, the staff at the hotels.  Kenyans are a smart, generous and positive people in spite of the adversities of life.  They are warm and gregarious.  I admire and respect them, and feel validated as a human being to have been so well received by them.  

Another joy was to travel and experience the physical beauties of Kenya.   I have seen lush farmlands, vast grasslands, stunning beaches, dense forests, mountains, valleys and rivers.  I have seen with my own eyes some of the world's most magificent animals and colourful birds.  (Michael was particularly taken with the birdlife.)

I have heard some music and seen some dancing.  When the drums beat, it is the sound of the heart beats of Kenyans. 

I return home enriched, I hope wiser, appreciative, more knowledgeble - and very grateful for this chance to help build bridges of connection, understanding and love from one part of the world to another.

Habari za safari? Njema!

Although “safari ” in Kiswahili means “journey,” it  has popularly  become the term for going on game drives to view Africa’s wildlife.  After 7 days in two national parks, I am pleased to report that our safari was indeed “njema” or “fine.”   In fact, it was superb.

(Let me take a brief moment to say that I am unable to provide photos at this time of writing.  Our laptop is malfunctioning, and I am unable for whatever reason to retrieve my photos on this borrowed computer.  Alas, another computer and internet challenge!  So...please imagine plains of zebras and graceful gazelles as you read on.)

Our first 4 nights and 3 full days were spent in the Masai Mara, reputedly and deservedly Kenya’s premier safari destination.    With a combination of 5 fellow travelers who were also totally into the experience, an attentive and knowledgeable driver, Paul, and vast, beautiful  grasslands dotted with acacias, we were thrilled to see “the big five”  - elephant, water buffalo, rhinoceros, leopard and lion -  within the first day and a half.   What would Africa be without lions?  I cannot find the words to describe the awe I felt to gaze into the eyes of a lioness at close quarters, and to see a male lion just a few feet away from us.   On our final full day, we drove the Mara Triangle, following the Mara River down to the Tanzanian border and stepping across for just a few minutes into the Serengeti and to take a look at the last of the migrating wildebeest.
But it was watching the glory of an African sunrise from our tent at the top of the Oloololo Escarpment at the west side of the park, of experiencing the silence of the plains broken only by an occasional bird song or grunting of a hippopotamus, of witnessing the harmony and balance of nature in this incredible ecosystem that was the magic of the Mara for me.  I was full of tears the last morning; my soul was touched in a way I long for and find elusive.

Two days later we were in Meru National Park northwest of Mount Kenya.  The park was green and verdant with the coming of the short rains.  As our small bush plane landed at the airstrip, we were greeted by elegant reticulated giraffes that gracefully and shyly ran away from us.  While the Mara is open and wide, Meru is contained and dense.  There are many rivers, intense jungle-like areas with splendid, enormous raffia palms, and ever present sentinels in the Nyambani Hills on the western side.   In Meru we saw what few see:  the Greater Kudu, an antelope with magnificent curved antlers, and many white rhinoceros at close quarters.  But what brought me to tears in Meru was our shining young driver, Benson.  Extraordinarily bright and earnest, Benson is another of the remarkable Kenyans we have met on our trip.  Raised by a single mother, he was able to be educated for 10 years in Nairobi with the assistance of an American sponsor.  He has a diploma but dreams of achieving a degree and becoming a conservationist, like the Nobel Laureate Wangari Maathai.   I hope with all my heart that he is able to make his dreams come true.

Some of this will depend on the fate of tourism in Kenya.  It is decidedly down with the war between Kenya and Somalia, and possibly concerns about the election coming up in 2012.  Many people have earned decent wages through the provision of excellent tourist facilities, and through the Kenya Wildlife Service. 

Although there is much more I could say,  I have only limited time available on this computer.   I hope that when we are back in Nairobi on Nov. 9 to 11 that I will have the opportunity for a final report to you from Kenya.  It’s hard to believe that next week at this time we will be back “home.”

How do you find life in Kenya? she asked. Hard, I replied.

Last week riding back in a matatu from Tumaini school, I sat beside Eddah, a third year Business student at the university in Kakamega.  We struck up a conversation that became real with my candour.  

 

At the time we talked about the  the challenges of making a living, of everyday life, of transportation.  For example, one of the security guys at the ACCES site, supports a wife and 2 or 3 children on what  is a good job for Kenya, but he values any extra food and any empty bottles to return for the deposit money.  Other people subsist on casual farm labour or selling vegetables or the crop from a small plot of land. This might make enough to feed a family for a day – porridge, ugali and greens and maybe tea.  Eddah counted herself as one of the fortunate as one of her parents was a teacher and the other, a policewoman.  

Everyday life.  For me it meant adjusting to daily power failures and washing laundry by hand.  In the rural countryside, some women still spend a good part of her day gathering firewood for cooking.   Clothes dry on shrubs.  Women and children walk down to the local stream for water.  For Eddah, the new young educated generation,  it means wondering if she will get a job or join the large ranks of the unemployed when she has her degree.

Transportation is a huge issue.   The inadequate transportation system limits the distribution of goods and limits mobility.  The “highway” in and out of Kakamega is basically a tarmac road with no dividing line.  The majority of side roads are dirt, most of which became muddy and slow slogging when it rains (frequently).   Our 18 km. trip to Rondo Retreat two weeks ago took 1.5 hours in the rain.  Eddah muses if Kenyans should be more assertive.

It took our trip from Kakamega to the Masai Mara on October 29th to show me that the transportation system is not just inconvenient but bloody dangerous.  Dumb luck and a cell phone literally “saved our bacon.”

Wanting to see the countyside, we’d been planning this road trip for months and checked on the feasibility with various travel agents and parties.  I decided to provide a Kakamega taxi driver with the income from this trip.  Our roommate introduced me to Hussein with his small red Toyota who became our reliable driver for our weekend trips preceding the long drive to the Mara.   The point I want to make is that there was no apparent problem with the Mara trip.

Hussein checked with his taxi driver friends and figured it be a 4 to 5 hour drive.  So he could return to Kakamega within the day, he proposed we leave at 7 am.  We informed the Mara Siria Tented Camp to expect us for lunch on the 29th.  

By noon  on October 29th we arrived in Kilgoris, some 50 km from the Mara, on a quite beautiful paved road with two lanes.  I assumed this road existed because the Mara is a prime tourist destination.  Then the tarmac road simply -- stopped.  Hussein’s friend in Kilgoris provided him with instructions and a sketch map.  We left the town about noon, heading south on a dirt road.

After about 10 km. and about 45 minutes on a horrible rutted road, I thought we should phone the camp to tell them we wouldn’t make lunch.  The camp manager told us we were on the wrong road, to back up and take another road.  This cost us 1.5 hours.  Then we began on another dirt road.  Somewhat better, I was enjoying the geographical change from green rolling hills to flat grazing lands, the land of the fabled Masai, when the road started to get markedly worse and it began to rain.  It was now about 2:30.  Mud and treacherous pot holes.  We took the wrong fork in the road and got stuck.  Two men on a motorbike helped Michael push the car out of a trough.  They gave us further directions.  

The other fork in the road soon proved to be horrible, too. Thank heavens that Hussein was steadfast and skillful in the handling of his car.  Soon Michael was forced to get out of the car in the rain to run ahead and check out road conditions.   In the small Toyota, we were forced to leave the road to drive on an off road track to by pass impassable road sections.  Twice.

Although we tried to keep in touch with the camp manager, we kept losing the signal and couldn’t complete calls.   While Michael was out on another reconnaissance, Hussein decided to bypass a huge trough by driving along the steep left side of the road.   It was a terrifying few minutes for us both; I fully expected that the car would roll and I would end my days in a ditch in SW Kenya.

Around 4 pm, now some 10 km. from destination, we had to stop, once and for all.  In yet another set of calls to the camp, we asked for a rescue.  Around 4:30,  Joel told us that a 4 wheel drive camp vehicle would be coming.  Michael and I were worried about Hussein.  Could he and should he return to Kilgoris on that terrible road in the rain?  It gets dark by 6:30.  We wanted him to leave us by the side of the road and get going immediately; he was worried about leaving us in a strange place.  Finally, at around 5 pm, the camp vehicle arrived for us, and Hussein, with a bottle of water, the couple of biscuits and bananas we had left set off back on that awful road.  

It took us a further 30 minutes to drive to Mara Siria Tented Camp.  Even in a 4 wheel vehicle driving off road, we skidded and slid.  We arrived to a beautiful room, hot shower and lovely dinner.  Worried about Hussein, we tried to phone but once again were plagued with the inability to connect.  We got through to him around 9:30pm.  He had made it to Kilgoris and was staying with his friend.

10.5 hours to drive about 250 km.  An ordeal for us and for Hussein.  We don’t have to drive the Kenyan road system again.  Hussein does.  

One of 10 children raised in a mud hut in Siaya north of Kisumu, Hussein has self taught himself to speak English, read and write.  Married with a 6 month old daughter, he runs a 2 vehicle taxi service.  He is hard working, thoughtful and resilient.  He and Eddah are but two of the remarkable next generation of Kenyans we have met so far on this remarkable journey. 

(Yes, we are carefully monitoring the situations in Somalia and Nairobi.)

Teaching in the Boondocks of Kenya

My volunteer assignment for ACCES was to help staff develop a teacher evaluation tool for use in the ACCES Community Schools.  To do this with some degree of integrity, I wanted to get a good grasp of the teaching context in the schools and talk a lot to the teachers.  I have loved every minute of my time with them – chatting informally in the small staff rooms, observing classes, interviewing some of them, finding out about the students they teach, hearing their stories, learning about their challenges, frustrations and dreams. 

Let me introduce you to a few of them.  First there is Stanley who teaches at Elufafwa, some 9 km. from Kakamega.  His classroom is in a well-constructed school built by CIDA.  From a humble background, he was a mechanic at 14, then sponsored through secondary school.  An ACCES scholarship helped him obtain his two year’s teacher certificate. 

His is one of the first classes I observed, and remains a highlight.  In his Level 2/3 math class, he brought 4 learners to the front to physically demonstrate “4 take away 1= 3.”  These youngsters are just learning to count in English so this is a double challenge for them.  He demonstrated a number of times with different learners and different numbers.  During practice time, he asked me to join him in circulating the room, marking answers and assisting one-on-one.  It was a terrific class.

Another time at Elufafwa, Philip’s Level 5 learners were conducting an experiment in groups to learn soil properties.  They had brought soil samples from home, and he was asking them to observe what happens when they put soil in a glass of water.   Philip loves science, especially zoology, and hopes to get his degree.  Next class the learners were going to burn small soil samples to learn about humus.

Last week at Munasio, a mud hut school 8 km. from town, a new teacher, Roseline, was teaching Swahili Level 2/3 vocabulary for shapes such as ovals. Every learner was engaged, on his or her feet physically making the shapes with their arms and bodies while saying the words.  In one of the rare classrooms with wall charts, she asked learners to point out the various sounds in the words.  I tried to take a good photo of her but she was in constant motion. 

When I dropped in to observe his Social Studies Level 4 class in a mud hut classroom in Shivagala, 21 km from town, Justus (I may have the name wrong) was getting the learners to role play a visit to a medicine man to help bring a lesson on traditional medicine to life.  Next door at the same school, Adelaide had the little ones in her split 2/3 class jumping out of their seats to identify words and pictures for “foods we eat” and “things that give us light.”

 

Just a mention of Benedict and Benson, teachers both and also Center Managers, each with great presence, charisma and dynamism.  They make their centers hum, inspiring good teaching through example.   

Another teacher who caught my attention for the clarity of her presentation on a tough point of English usage in a Level 8 class, Meliza is another ACCES sponsored university student who wanted to be a lawyer.  Teacher’s training was more accessible.    She ensured her class got lots of practice, reteaching and individual attention.   

I wish I could tell you this was the picture in every classroom.  I would say less than half the classes I observed used practices we in Surrey champion:  active, student-centered learning.  Other teachers relied on the textbook, students reading from the blackboard in a chanting manner, asking “recall” questions, and students taking notes and/or doing structured practice.  Our roommate tells me this is traditional Kenyan teaching.   

Teaching in ACCES schools is a hard gig.  The schools are isolated by the poor road system more than distance.  The schools have no power and some have no water source.  The teachers are on 3 month contracts and are paid one third per month of what they would make if hired by a public school.  What many of our teachers like about ACCES jobs is the punctual pay cheque and the smaller class size.  Those with P1 certificates, a two year course of studies, are waiting for their college graduating year to be “called” to get into the public system. Since about 2005, the huge growth in student population has stressed the public system which doesn’t have the capacity to hire. Although classes in the public schools can be large – we saw Level 4 classes at Kakamega Primary of 68 and 72 – the salary and benefits are good, there is tenure, and they join a larger community of teachers.

What are the teachers’ issues?  They talk about corruption in high places, about their personal challenge of dealing with rising inflation, the high cost of educating their own children and of attending university, the desire to educate their own children well, about “seeing is believing” – that as Kenyans they have been promised much for too long and no longer trust officialdom.  Some of them walk to school – far, on muddy roads, like 5 km. each way.  The women have to deal with child care.  There is concern about the implementation of the new constitution and a next year’s election, if it will change everyday life or if will again lead to violence.  

I have also learned that many of our teachers come from humble backgrounds, that getting to university entrance is very big deal in their lives, and that obtaining two years training is a possible platform for greater things ahead.  BC teachers will remember the days when one could teach elementary school after a short stint at normal school.  Kenya is a developing country with a developing school system.

What ACCES teaching does is provide experience, regular in-service and opportunity.  For all the young bright lights I described above, ACCES is once again “developing capacity.”  These teachers are smart and talented.  The future and the hope of Kenya, they are inspirational.

The Church on a Farm

A few weeks ago in Canada, when we agreed to drive one weekend to Kisii to meet Rev. Justine Magara, it was because we felt compelled to make the effort to meet fellow Unitarians in Kenya, knowing we were in for a “once in a lifetime” experience.   It was that – and more. 

  

Initially, we assumed that we were driving 3 to 4 hours southwest of Kakamega to Kisii, a large agricultural town, where we would stay in a local hotel, attend a church service on the Sunday, maybe take in some of the local soapstone scupturing, and drive back to Kakamega by the late afternoon.  Michael took over the arrangements last week, and as he spoke to Justine by phone, the weekend evolved in a new direction.  

Justine would meet us in Kisii, drive with us 45 to 60 minutes north to the village of Manga where we would meet his congregation, enjoy a meal together, participate in a worship service, walk the Ongori Farm, return for dinner – and spend the night there.  I asked Michael to remind Justine we were westerners, and he assured Michael we would be comfortable.  The next morning we would drive one hour to Ogembo, another village, for a Sunday service, lunch, and a visit to a soapstone factory.  

Well, we left Kakamega at 10 am on Saturday, picked Justine up in Nyansiongo, a village beyond Kisii, and drove on a dirt road at least 30 minutes to Manga and the Ongori farm.  My alarm bells went off.  Oh, oh, in over my head.  Bucolic.  And rural.  Rural.  I am a born and bred city girl.  By the way, the countryside in this part of Kenya is gorgeous.  It has hills and valleys, is lushness beyond Kakamega’s, and is intensely cultivated and inhabited.

Justine explained that his congregation had begun with the family members at Ongori farm, and then extended into the community, his home town, to about 50 members.  He also serves a second congregation in Ogembo, but because of  a last minute change of plans, we stayed in Manga at the farm.   When we were shown to our room, my heart sank.  The bed was exceedingly narrow, there was no sink or basin, no towels – but, yes, there was a squat toilet opposite so I didn’t have to use the outhouse.  Whew.

 

We met Julius and his mother, the next door neighbours.  Julius works in a factory in Nairobi, helping educate two younger siblings, keep his mother, and assist Justine with Unitarian organization.  Peter and Samson run the Ongori farm while their mother and two brothers are currently in the US.  Justine lives with them when not in Nairobi with his wife and children, coordinating Unitarian work in Kenya.  We met other neighbours who have joined Justine’s congregation.

What binds them?  I would say Justine’s passion and vision.  He loves to minister and is inspiring his Unitarian following to work cooperatively to develop a sustainable lifestyle.  He wants youth to be able to stay in the countryside to make a living and live a quality life.

After a late lunch, we walked the beautiful Ongori farm with Justine, Julius, Peter , Samson and one of their friends, appreciating the remarkable fauna and the endeavours to make the farm more lucrative:  a brick making operation, two eucalyptus plots, a market garden, a dairy herd, a fish farm.  Another goal is to build a church on the farm from the bricks. We later found the Ongori farm is famous  in the region, one of the few undivided homesteads purchased after independence.  

 

We enjoyed an evening of showing images of Vancouver and BC on our computer to a receptive and curious audience, another tasty meal from farm products, and a lively conversation about world affairs.    I helped make ugali in the farm kitchen over a wood fire.

 

I did sleep.  I managed without a shower or water, though the guys brought me a basin of heated water in the morning.  I learned how to make Kenyan tea in the farm kitchen but missed out on making chapatis over the open fire which, by the way, is acrid and takes getting used to.  

 

The worship service at around 11 (remember, being on time is not a Kenyan value)that included the Ongori family and friends was simple and lovely.  Michael and I gave the congregation a gift of two Unitarian songbooks, sang “One More Step” for them to join in, and then Michael, as a tribute to Kenya and this congregation, sang “We’ll Build a Land.”  They loved the hymn books and we loved their readings and the minister’s prayer of welcome and gratitude.

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 Many group photos were taken, and then Samson, who had discovered I love African dancing, joined with Julius to lead a song and dance for us

 As we prepared to drive away, I was surprised and touched  beyond words to receive tight hugs from my new young Kenyan friends, Samson, Peter and Julius.  I know I will never forget them.  I know I will help find a way to keep in touch with and support Justine.  I know that in stretching myself, I learned a little more about living in grace.

 

And on the way “home,” we took a too long detour on poor roads to see the soapstone factories and this wonderful scupture called “Defeating Literacy,”  evocative of our volunteer work in Kenya.    

   

“Developing Capacity”

Before I undertook my volunteer assignment with ACCES, I thought I had a good understanding of the term “developing capacity.”  It’s a very important concept to ACCES Kenya, appearing as a key objective in both the CIDA application and the ACCES strategic plan. 

However,  in my time “on the ground,” I am acquiring a real appreciation and much deeper understanding of what it means and my role in it.  I venture to say that it is the most important work I’m doing here. 

It includes role modelling, inspiration, encouragement, ideas, coaching, explanation, suggestions  - and sometimes considerable perspiration and frustration.  The working scene in Kenya is different.  Time is understood differently,  organization and planning here are what I might call “organic,” and management is decidedly hierarchical versus collegial. 

 On Monday the 17th, for example, the entire office team with us two volunteers went to one of the community schools to kick off a “Dejiggering Campaign.”  Our Health and Gender Coordinator has spent the past weeks successfully establishing a partnership with public health officials. First, we arrived late because the taxi arrived late.  The ceremony wasn’t organized as I understand “organized,”  nor were the students, teachers and parents from the school invited to participate.  

In the end, there was a nice ceremony to a small audience that included short speeches from a much surprised Michael and Elaine, a demonstration of the new procedure for treating jiggers (soaking in dettol for 10 days versus the painful  manual extraction I witnessed 2 weeks ago), a method found for disposal of the soaking solution, and a plan made to include the school community in next Wednesday’s campaign conclusion.   Some of this was done by asking questions and offering help.  I think there’s lot of fodder here for a capacity building debrief, if there is the interest ot have one.

Which there likely is.  I have found the staff and the teachers willing and open to learning.  They are bright, capable, caring and committed.  That is why it is such a joy to be here with them.

Today my Kenyan partner and I  were at one of the ACCES Community Schools field testing a new evaluation tool.  The idea of a field test, of asking for input from the center managers instead of imposing it, is all quite new.  But my partner “on the ground,” while struggling with this collaboration, every day tells me how much he is learning and how pleased he is with the progress of our project.  

 More French beans were planted during our school visit this Wednesday.  One of the concepts behind this farming initiative is to “develop capacity” in the local school community – the parents and the learners.  If they can acquire a new cash crop, it will perhaps inspire them to keep learning new farming methods and make much needed income.  The rich, fertile lands of Kenya are, an economist last weekend postulated,  its most valuable physical resource.

 

And I, of course, have been developing a lot of capacity myself – to be less interested in time and more interested in process.