#33 Maya & Peter marry

Sunday, Sept 4, 2012

#33 Maya and Peter marry

Yesterday I went to Karen, a posh Nairobi suburb, to attend the wedding of Maya Perkins of East Palo Alto (EPA) to Peter (can’t find his name), of Kenya.  Fr Kiriti performed the rite.  I met Maya’s mother, Pat Foster, well-known and beloved in EPA, last October at the behest of Henry Organ, good friend and KH board member.  Forty-six friends and family members traveled from the US to meet with Peter’s Luo family and friends.  It was a splendid event and I was so happy to be there.  A nice surprise was the presence of Mary Flamer of EPA, mother of Terri, who was in my first class at Menlo Atherton in 1983.  I haven’t seen Terri in some time, but we used to keep in touch.  Her mother was given the honor of blessing the food.

Catherine Wanjohi had also met Pat when she was in the US, so of course she too was invited.  The 3 of us drove the 2 hours through farmland, small villages and the outskirts of Nairobi.  I never tire of seeing the animals—goats and sheep mostly, with cows and still a few wild zebras—the activities of the people, walking, talking bargaining, farming, riding their bicycles, piki-pikis—just doing their normal stuff.

Good thing I’m not trying to make my living in photography, I didn’t take a picture of the bride!  I did take a picture of Catherine in front of this beautiful church.

Here are Fr Kiriti, the groom and his brother, awaiting the happy bride.  The wedding was late in starting, which meant we had to leave shortly afterwards.  We did make a short appearance at the reception, just long enough to enjoy the food, a lovely combination of Jamaican flavors from Maya’s tradition and Kenyan foods from Peter’s.

Arriving back home, I “received” visits from Cyrus and Monica.  You know about Cyrus, but perhaps Monica is new to you.  She is in form 2 at Naivasha Girls, the only school that scored better than SFG in the 2010 KCSE!

 

Monica is bright and hard working and likes to come chat with me.  Like Cyrus, she has big ambitions, wants to be a dentist.  Two years ago in class 8 she did an impressive science demo for her siblings at Mji Wa Neema.  Math and science are her best subjects.

We reminisced about the first year I was in Naivasha, 2005, when I went up to the orphanage to meet the children.  Four of the girls insisted on escorting me back to the rectory, where I was staying at the time.  It took me a few years to get to know all of them and to get their names straight.

 

 

 

This is Monica, now in Form 2 at Naivasha Girls, in her uniform, with Jecinta (social worker) on parent visiting day.  Naivasha Girls is a national school, accepting top students.  It is always a top performing school and the only one in the district to outdo SFG in the KCSE.  SFG takes those students who don’t get into national schools.

What is it about this place that holds me so close?  The approach of my departure has been a weight on my shoulders, increasing with each passing day.  It’s not that I don’t want to be back in the US, seeing my family, whom I always miss, and my friends.  My bed at home is much more comfortable, my house more convenient, shopping easier—life is easier, yet I wish I could stay here until I get really tired of it.  Maybe that’s what keeps me coming back.  I haven’t gotten my fill of all I love here.

(Sunday, Sept 11, 1 week later)

I am now home now and trying to put my body and brain on PDT, not an easy task.  I arrived Tuesday, Sept 6 after a 5 hour flight to Dubai, where I spent the night and 15 hours to SFO.  I’m still trying to stay awake past 9 pm and stay asleep until 7 am.  I have one more email that I began before I left, but haven’t finished.

If you are interested, Kenya Help and I were featured on the Greatest Person of the Day section of the Huffington Post several days ago.  Here is the link

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2011/09/09/margo-mcauliffe-retired-t_n_955932.html

Margo

#32 Such Good Things

Thursday, Sept 1

#32 Such Good Things

Following Fr Makarios to visit his project this morning, I thought about the many projects I’ve seen this summer and on other visits.  His is St Therese Develop-ment Center, a safe house for abused children.  He began just a year ago but has made incredible progress.  His bishop gave 33 acres for the center.  He has had to raise the funds to develop and build.  He’s on the right, with Innocence, the architect and over-seer.

The plan as well as the implementation is impressive—rooms with large windows so it’s light and airy, nice kitchen and dining/multipurpose, separate areas for boys, girls and volunteers, of which he hopes to attract many to work with the children.

A drip system is in place in the shamba (garden), he has a bore hole with piping to fill the water tower (background), a pond which will eventually be a fish farm, and many other thoughtful (and green) features.  He’s considering using composting toilets, which make perfect sense here.  Otherwise he has to put in a drain field, which would be much more expensive and not nearly so eco-friendly.  I like his work and his manner, no nonsense, very straight-forward, sensitive to the needs of children.  The land is far enough from town to be very open, peaceful and quiet.  As you see, the vistas are broad, with few trees, as it’s very dry.  In time he will have trees, fruit as well as decorative to provide shade.

Observing the men at work on the water tower (left) I thought of the Tower of Babel and wondered whether it was built in a similar manner.  The men are shoveling mortar up one step at a time, working in a unison that probably is not planned, but they just naturally fall into it.  There will be 2 tanks, one on top of the other, with living and office quarters below, on the first 2 levels.

Innocence has done a fabulous job of design.  I had not met him before, but he told me he also designed Upendo Village, next door to SFG, which I have dubbed the Taj Mahal, because of the nice design features.  I will be eager to see this finished project as well.

Coming back to town I stopped by Life Beads of Kenya, the workshop run by my friend, Minalyn Nicklin, who trains and employs HIV+ people.  She is a tender-hearted woman who loves each and every one of her people.  When I arrived, she told me her daughter, Sandy, has been hospitalized for 7 days for an as yet undiagnosed condition, possibly Kawasaki’s Disease (I think that’s the name).  While we talked, Sandy appeared, sleepy and sweaty, to tell me how much she was sleeping and how she had no energy.  She’s a darling girl of maybe 10.

I thought about Sr Cecilia’s school, about which I wrote (#17) when I visited it, about the addition to the district hospital, for maternity and other women’s needs, the project of Cindy Berkland, an American nurse, in conjunction with Panda Flowers, here in Naivasha.  It’s not yet complete as fund raising is going slowly, but when it opens, it will be state of the art.

Front view of new women’s wing of district hosp

rear view

I wrote recently about Helping Hands (#23) a nursery school that welcomes children with disabilities and Marcus’s project (#13), a primary, K-4, as I recall in the KCC slum.

In addition to these great projects, I see building going on all over the area.  Despite famine in the north, continued reports of graft and corruption (though the government is slowly addressing those issues), poverty, unemployment, alcohol and drug addiction, drought in some areas, flooding in others, power outages, sugar shortage (BIG problem here—Kenyans love their sugar), bad roads and on and on, I see so much progress, so much life, hope, courage and love.  This country is making great strides and I am so privileged to be part of it.

Margo

#31 Pix n Other Stuff

Tuesday, August 30, 2011

#31 Pix n Other Stuff

I had forgotten to get pictures of the 3 girls who are now happily seeing in class.  Here they are:  Elizabeth, Mary and Carol.  I noted a change immediately in the attention and involvement in the classwork, now that they could see.  I’m just sad they had to wait so long.  Despite the handicap, Mary has always been among the top 3 performers in her form.  Now I’m looking for #1!

I also took a picture of Christopher, the quitter.  He went 2 days w/o smoking and was so proud of himself.  He put his name on the board, with 2 hash marks, indicating his feat.  However, the weekend proved too challenging, so he had to erase the marks and begin again.  Nonetheless he is determined to beat it.  He’s a very nice guy and a great teacher (physics and math), full of enthusiasm, ready to embrace new technology, willing to help the girls, and just as full of smiles as the picture indicates.

Thus I am sad to report that he will be leaving SFG to return to school.  As good as he is at teaching, he wants to become an engineer.  He was unable to complete his training b/c he had to pay school fees for his younger sister.  She is now completing form 4, so he can go back to school.  It is touching that many people sacrifice in order to send siblings to school.  Everyone understands the ramifications of not completing high school, so most are willing to sacrifice, knowing that someone sacrificed for them.

One of the teachers has recently developed a seizure disorder.  She had an episode during a car trip several weeks ago.  It was probably somewhere in the middle of the spectrum of petit mal to grande mal and left her exhausted.  She went to a Nairobi neurologist yesterday and was given new medication.  The moment she walked into the staff room this morning I knew something was wrong.  She could hardly walk, eyes unfocused.  We sat her down to wait until Ben (accountant) was ready to go back down to town and could take her home.  I went along to show him the way, as she was getting more and more out of it.  We had to support her on both sides to move her into her house, which she shares with mom and 2 sisters.  I was worried that the medication was too strong or that somehow this was not a normal response.  Couldn’t think of what to do, but later it occurred to me to call Joyce, a newly minted pharmacist.  I just wanted to check it out with her, but she is so nice.  She offered to visit the teacher and we made a date for right after I finished my last class.  School matron, Esther, went along so that she would know as much as possible about the situation.

When we got there in the late afternoon, the teacher was feeling a bit better.  Joyce did a pretty thorough assessment and will monitor it until she gets better.

(2 days later)  She called me today to say she is cutting down on the medication and will see her neurologist ASAP.

I must say, I manage to get involved in a lot of scenarios that seemingly have little to do with math teaching.  Not sure how I manage it, but ….

Margo

#30 Another Day in Nairobi ‘N Other Stuff

Sunday, August 28, 2011

#30 Another Day in Nairobi ‘N Other Stuff

Today was the last opportunity to visit the Maasai Market before I leave. It’s held in a parking lot in downtown Nairobi, so can be open on weekends only. I went with Jecinta (sw) who is a bargainer. We planned to go immediately after mass, but as luck would have it, the mass was long. I even left early, which I almost never do, asa mzungu can hardly escape unnoticed! The mass was to celebrate the final vows by Sister Mary of this parish. The custom is to have a big mass, huge reception afterwards and then a gathering of all the nuns and priests who have attended. I attended one in 2006 and found it fascinating, but alas, it was not to be this time.

The ride to Nairobi is 1½ hours and it wasn’t too bad going. Read on to know how not lovely the return trip was. One funny incident occurred as we neared the station. The matatu stopped to let off a passenger. I happened to be in the seat by the door—the one that must be vacated before anyone gets off or on. There was a tout there, who thought maybe I wasn’t nimble enough, so rather rudely told me to sit further back. “No, I’m going to sit here with my friend.” This met with a scowl. “Don’t give me a hard time!” “I will give you a hard time!” “And I’ll give you a hard time back!” This ended with laughter from both the tout and me. He must have thought he could browbeat this old mzungu, but he didn’t take in personally when I didn’t back down.

It’s a bit of a trek to the market. I wrote about it before, but I still am amazed at the traffic including cars, buses, trucks, taxis, matatus, people, bicycles, carts, piki-piki’s, all missing each other my nano-meters. The sidewalks, where they exist, are very narrow, roughly paved, potholed and jammed. Jecinta led the way and I dutifully followed, always careful to look BOTH WAYS, b/c even after all this time, in a pinch, I am not sure which direction the traffic will come from. And sometimes it doesn’t matter, b/c it’s coming from both directions in the same lane!

Finally we could see the fenced parking lot and —Oh no! There were cars in it and no market! Ach! What was I to do? Should have bought more the last time I came, although we were so loaded down with purchases we couldn’t have carried more. And then…oops! We were looking at the wrong parking lot. Next to the one with cars was the one with the market. A sigh of relief!

I am such a dope for forgetting to take my camera! The market is jammed, busy, colorful and full of great stuff. We spent maybe 3 hours trudging, looking, bargaining, walking away when the prices were too high and evading the more persistent hawkers who pester mzungus. I bought things I hope people will like. Some things I’ve bought before, like salad sets with animal handles, lovely carves bowls, 1 nativity scene (but can get more), purses, and much more, including some cutenesses— always fun.

Immediately as we approached the gate we were accosted by a young man who thought he was going to be our guide (and would collect his shillings from any vendor we bought from). However, he got the same short shrift the tout had received, and as we walked on by I heard him say, “I’ll just wait for another American mzungu!” We both had a chuckle from that.

The bargaining process is not my favorite part, but sometimes we reach an amicable price. The vendors are very dramatic. “Oh madam, it is not possible.” “Because you are my customer (we had just walked up to his stall) I will give you a wholesale price” (which is generally twice what he’s willing to sell for). We saw one crèche set, not very well carved and not as large as some I’ve brought back before. Since we hadn’t seen others, we asked the price. “For you I’ll offer at a very good price.” “What is that very good price?” “Ksh 4500” “What! I’ve bought much better sets than that for a bit more than ksh 3000.” Face falls, shocked look of disbelief. “No madam, is not possible.” “Ok, it’s all right,” as we walked away. Later when he saw us buying from another vendor he came over to offer it for the 2000 he had scoffed at 15 minutes before. But “No, the one I bought here is much better.” Needless to say, he was disappointed, but in fact the second one was better.

Each purchase is a major discussion. Sometimes I was perfectly willing to pay what the vendor asked. They are just folks, trying to make a living, but sometimes it was clear they were gouging. That raises my hackles! We wandered up and down aisles, not daring to stop too long lest the owner accost us and offer us “a very good price.” Everything is tempting and I always wish I knew what people would like to have. Here is a picture of our purchases, laid out on the bed in my “guest room.” It doesn’t look like much, but it felt like a lot when we were dragging it all back. I wish I could have bought more of those brown and black purses. They are very nice, but bulky and can’t be folded like the ones woven from native grasses. In addition I have other items in suitcases plus the 2 suitcases we sent home with someone else a few weeks ago—which I have to go to Pasadena to retrieve.

At the matatu station (stage), the tickets indicate which vehicle to board. As ours backed into the loading space, the other, more experienced travelers pushed forward to get the best seats, while Jecinta and I, so loaded down we could barely push through the impossibly narrow aisle had to take the very back seat. I “won” the corner. The windows never close tightly, so as we got out onto the highway, where the driver demonstrated his having trained at the Bat-Out-Of-Hell Driving School, the cold wind came in on my shoulder and neck. I was jammed into the seat that has reduced foot space due to the wheel covering, my lap was full of parcels and I was so cold! I tried bunching up my jacket against the window, but nothing would block the wind. It was the longest 1 ½ hours!!!!

Back home at last, Jecinta and I brewed some tea and reviewed the day. On the whole we felt we’d done well. Then I had to drive her home, back up towards SFG. In the meantime, Catherine had called and wanted to bring someone to visit me. My kitchen was sporting Mother Hubbard’s cupboard, so had to stop at a small market for more milk for tea. I didn’t think to get some biscuits or other goody. In Kenya visitors are always fed, especially if they arrive at meal time, but I truly had nothing and I was bushed!

The visitor was Samantha, a young Stanford grad student whom Catherine had met in Uganda at a training on using small water testing kits—a great boon for small rural communities. After the training, Samantha had come to Kenya to learn more about Life Bloom and had fallen in love with the program, as is so often the case. Catherine is hoping she will give more visibility to LB in the US.

We chatted over tea for maybe an hour before they went off and decided I didn’t need any dinner. I’d just flop on my bed and maybe have some toast or something later. As I was clearing away the cups, my phone rang. Fr Kiriti was wondering why I wasn’t at the rectory for the party after the party after the mass. I had known about the party but had not understood that I was invited. Since I’d left mass early, I was embarrassed to show my face, but off I trotted. The call was something of a command performance. Only as I walked in did I become aware I was dressed in my jeans, which I had worn to Nairobi so I could wear my sneakers. Oh, I was a charming sight!

I was amazed at how many of the priests and nuns I knew, including Sr Helen, an old friend who had come the night before and had  stayed in my guest room. Here she is sitting on my bed for a few more minutes of catching up before we slept.

She is here from her station in in Jamaica, where she works with HIV patients, does counseling and prevention  education. She is totally dedicated to her work and goes wherever she is told, doing whatever she is told.  We met several years ago when she was briefly stationed here in Naivasha, doing HIV work.

Back at the party, I talked to all the old familiar faces and introduced myself to those I didn’t know. The food was great, although by the time I arrived it was greatly diminished. Fortunately there was  lots of salad, which I crave, being too busy (lazy?) to prepare it for myself.

As soon as I could gracefully leave, I slipped out, trotted back to my room and fell into bed. After all,  Monday was another day of teaching.

Best, Margo

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#29 What a Great Day!

Friday, August 26, 2011

#29 What a Great Day!

Wow!  My classes went so well today.  The girls are positive, enthusiastic, involved and most of all they are learning.  We’ve talked a lot about feeling confident, taking a stab at a problem, even if they think they don’t know how to do it.  It’s easy to praise them and they love it when I say, “Wow!  Aren’t you smart!” or “Pat yourself on the back!”  Last week a bought a bag of lollipops, and once in awhile, not every day, if one of them speaks up, especially the ones I know are the most fearful, I award them a lollipop.  It’s amazing how such a small thing has boosted their morale.

Their biggest problem has been fear of doing the wrong thing, so they would do nothing.  On the mock KCSE that they took in July, the math performance was BAD.  I did a lot of the “revising” with them and when they saw how easy the probability question was and that they’d lost 10 big points on it b/c they were afraid to try, I think they began to get the idea that maybe they can do math.  It is an uphill battle with them b/c in elementary school there is so much drudgery they really hate it.  The love it when I tell them how much I hate long division and multiplication.  That’s not really math, it’s arithmetic and it’s one reason the calculator was developed.  Math is about thinking, recognizing patterns, making connections with concepts previously learned.  The form 4’s told Fr Kiriti this evening that they are feeling much more empowered!  Is that candy for the ears!

A few days ago I noticed a form 4 girl who was peering and squinting at the board and was immediately reminded of 14-year old me, who didn’t realize that other people could see much better than I could and that I needed glasses.  When I spoke to Jecinta (p) about it she told me of 2 other girls who need glasses.  Why wasn’t something done?  Africans are often philosophical about such needs.  I’m so aware of my differences with that.  If something doesn’t work, I want it fixed!  Not now—yesterday!  It’s the way I was brought up.  Everything worked in our house b/c my father knew how to fix things.  This was a problem needing to be fixed, so I asked who had the authority to permit me to take them for eye checks.  Esther (matron) arranged it and off we went.  They were very quiet and I wasn’t sure how they were processing the whole thing.  In retrospect, I think they were a bit overwhelmed to actually be getting glasses, with the prospect of being able to see, of not having headaches, and feeling eyestrain.

On the way I explained that the price of the lenses is fixed, but there was a great range in frame prices.  “This isn’t about looking beautiful, it’s about being able to see.”  Fortunately the least expensive frames were quite nice.  Each girl was tested and chose a frame.  We had hoped to get the glasses today, but all three have complicated corrections, so the lenses must be made in Nairobi.  That in itself confirmed the need.  We’re hoping to get them tomorrow afternoon or Monday at the latest.  Two of the 3 are on scholarship and the single mother of the third girl struggles to pay the fees and is in arrears.  The scholarships from the US (almost all of them are) include a cushion for just such needs and I am so happy that these girls who have struggled for 4 years b/c they couldn’t see well are at last being helped.  One of the girls, a very shy one was close to tears as she got out of the car back at SFG.  Her appreciation was more than evident.  Later Jecinta (p) told me she is one of the top students in the class, usually 1, 2 or 3.  Imagine how much more she might have learned had she had glasses from day 1.

I’ve suggested that the school might do a preliminary eye test each year—the one with the E’s.  That’s how it was discovered that I was quite near-sighted.  The test was administered by the teachers every year and in 8^th grade I suddenly couldn’t do it.  Anybody know where I can get one of those old E charts?  They’re all done with mirrors and fancy machines now.  But if we had a chart, it could provide the initial indication that further testing is needed.

After the test, done in an office right across the road from the church compound, I thought I’d give the girls a treat, so we went to the small outdoor market where I like to buy my produce from women who eke out a living selling veggies and fruit.  I thought they’d like an orange or a banana.  SFG can’t afford fruit very often.  But no, 2 of them wanted avocado.  Ach! How would they eat an avocado, I thought.  Hmm, the vendor produced a knife and they cut quarters.  OK, why weren’t they eating them.  “Oh, we don’t eat them without salt.”  Salt!!!!  Who puts salt on avocados??  However they had to be eaten b/c students are not permitted take food into the school (to reduce the attraction of rodents and roaches).  So we trotted up to my little house behind the church, where they happily salted the avocados and we were on our way.

These 3 weeks, from August 16 to Sept 5 are called “tuitioning”.  That’s b/c the parents must pay extra for this compulsory time to review previously learned material.  It’s a great system in some ways, particularly for math, science and languages, courses where the material builds on itself.  But sometimes the girls come late or not at all, instead, reporting on Sept 6 for the beginning of the 3^rd term.  Such was the case for a girl from Mji Wa Neema who went home (we thought) at the end of the 2^nd term for the 2 week break before the tuitioning.  Only she didn’t come back.  No one could contact the family and everyone was concerned about her.  When her mother died several years ago, she was sent out after completing 7^th grade to be a house girl.  Somehow Jecinta (sw) learned of it and “rescued” her, bringing her to live in the children’s home.  This is highly unusual, but the girl really wanted to go to school.  Her father was absent from their very rural home and the older brothers didn’t really care about her.   That was all the more reason to worry about her safety.

Jecinta (sw) and Julia (matron) even went to the house, a 2-day trip.  Everyone denied knowing where she was and seeming not too interested.  Jecinta, however, smelled a rat.  So when the girl showed up at the home last night, everyone was quite relieved, but more than a bit peeved.  She had gone to stay somewhere with a female friend, but had worked for a man to get funds for her shopping.  It’s hard to imagine not having money for toothpaste, tp, soap etc, but this is the plight of the girl.  She hadn’t told anyone of her plan, nor where she would be.

I have to say I really lit into her.  Not only was she irresponsible, and even disrespectful to those who have cared for her, let her come to the home, blah, blah, blah!!!  I don’t think this will happened again and I think she didn’t realize the importance of being able to contact her and the necessity of her being in school.  What’s more, her scholarship covers the shopping.  I’m not sure why she didn’t know that.

There are 3 male teachers who smoke.  I can smell it on them, and I’ve talked to them—even cut out a newspaper article about smoking and bladder cancer..  Two of them want very much to quit, but anyone who has ever smoked knows how hard it is.  I started when I was 14 and smoked for 12 years.  The only way I was able to stop was to convince myself that the reason I wasn’t having babies was b/c I smoked.  Every time I thought I couldn’t stand it, I’d ask myself, “Well, what do you want—a cigarette or a baby?”  The answer to that is very clear!  When I told them they were shocked, stunned and aghast to think I had ever smoked (me too) but also impressed.  I told them it really helps to have something like that.  One man has a darling daughter, maybe 2 or 3, of whom he is so proud.  I asked him whether he wanted to see his daughter grow up.  Did he want to know his grand children.  Every time you want a cigarette, think of that.

The other is not married, so I asked him whether there was something that important to him.  He thought for awhile and then said, “I want to be as old as you are and as energetic as you are.”  I felt humbled and almost in tears.

I asked him whether he had any at home and he admitted he had 2. I said, “Throw them in the toilet!”  He looked totally shocked.  If I’d said stuff them in your grandmother’s mouth, he couldn’t have been more stunned.  Cigarettes are bought by the each here, sh 5, (a tad more than $.05), so I handed him sh10 and said, “I am buying your 2 cigarettes, now throw them in the toilet.”  It was funny and we both laughed but I could see that would be a big deal to him.  “I’ll try”, he said.  “Just do it!”, I said in my best Nancy Reagan voice.  That was yesterday.  Today I asked whether he had done it.  He admitted he had smoked one—hadn’t even thought about our conversation, but then he remembered and he did throw out the second one.  And then he thanked me so sincerely for helping him see ways to stick to his decision.  I won’t go into it all, but I had lots of ideas, having done it myself.

He’s such a great guy, a very enthusiastic teacher, who, unfortunately will be leaving SFG to return to school.  He wants to get a master’s in engineering.  My guess is he’ll do engineering for awhile but return to teaching.  You can tell he really loves it.

But in light of his returning to school, I asked him whether he’d like me to show him all the cool things about the unit circle.  “Yes” he said, so I made a really nice one, all color coded and he loved seeing all the patterns and how easy it is to use.  My final threat was that if I smelled smoke, I would take away his unit circle.  That’s bound to do it!!!

Already I am grieving about having to leave.  This has been such a good year.  I’ve been happy, have felt successful in many ways and I do love being here.  This is as much a home to me, as Menlo Park is home.  I have just 10 more days.  I plan to make the most of them.

All for now.

Margo

# 28 Winding Down

Thursday, August 25, 2011

# 28 Winding Down

I’m back at SFG, staying 4 nights in Jecinta’s (p) house so I have the evening classes.  Monday I spent 2 hours with the Form 4, beating vectors to death.  They teach really gnarly vector questions here, of a kind I had never seen before.  I’ve struggled with them for several years, but decided enough is enough.  I spent some hours solving vector problems and tonight I strutted my stuff for 4A.  They have felt defeated (I know the feeling!), but we worked through so many, by the end of the 2 hours, they were laughing, flexing their vector muscles and feeling very proud of themselves.

The Form 4’s have been GREAT!  Both classes are cool with vectors and if a reasonable vector question is asked on the KCSE in November, most will get it.  Now we are working our way through graphing trig functions and they are beginning to feel empowered!  Watching the transformation has been a gift!  They even went to see Jecinta to tell her how good they are feeling about math.

I’m also teaching the Form 2B’s, whom I did not teach last year so they’ve been a bit shy and reluctant to respond.  But now that I’ve taught them for 1 1/2 weeks and they are much more willing to offer suggestions and ask questions.  They too have slogged through some hard questions and are now much more confident.  Just interpreting the question, in English, is hard for them.  Often when I clarify the wording they know how to answer the question.  Many of the kids have huge language hurdles to overcome.

Monday morning was one of those days when I wakened late, lolled about a bit, trying to get my brain turned on, then suddenly had no time for a shower nor to gather up clothing for my 3 nights at SFG.  “Oh well,” thought I,  “I’ll just go back home in the afternoon, take a leisurely shower and get my packing done. “ Oops!  No electricity!  Here at SFG we have our solar and wind power.  We never have a blackout.  At Ndingi and at the parish there are blackout’s virtually every day, in addition to the scheduled one on Thursday 7 – 9:30 pm.  So I still didn’t get the shower!  Had I come earlier I might have gritted my teeth and taken a cold one, but lately the warm morning’s have morphed into overcast and chilly afternoons.  Even when I used to backpack in the Sierra, I hated jumping into those cold lakes.  Guess I’m just a wuss.

But I was glad I went.  I found our 2 newest residents at Mji Wa Neema, Lucas and Joseph, 2 of the sweetest little boys I’ve ever met.  They were in front of the pile of wood pieces which are donated by coffin and furniture makers, of which there are many in town. They were doing what kids do—building out of the odds and ends of boards, having the best time.  I think they are among the best toys. Below are Joseph on the left and Lucas on the right.

All for now,

Margo

#27 This and That

Sunday August 21

#27 This and That

This had been a slow news week.  I spent 3 nights at SFG, teaching the form 4’s in the evening (read on to see why I don’t drive at night).  They’ve done their mock KCSE exam, which we are now “revising”.  Alas, the results were disappointing, with a fairly large group failing the math part.  Today I met with them to talk about why they couldn’t do some of the questions and what sorts of things they might do to at least try the questions.  These girls are still frightened of math, they don’t like it and the have no confidence that they can succeed.  This last is what I hoped to address.  We talked for about 45 minutes and they assiduously took notes.  We’ll see.  When kids have had a poor start in math it’s really hard to overcome it.

I spent the nights in the principal’s house.  It’s fairly spacious as Kenyan homes go, 3 bedrooms, 2 baths, sitting room (as it’s called) and kitchen.  That said, it is spare.  For example, there are no electric outlets in the room where I stay.  When I pointed that out to Fr Kiriti he was surprised.  Evidently that wasn’t part of the plan.  The kitchen is small with few cupboards and no stove, except for a 2 burner gas cooker.  Most of the cooking is done on a jiko (no idea how that’s spelled), a small charcoal burner, that gives off copious quantities of noxious (and probably toxic) fumes.  Like most domestic activities, the cooking on the jiko is done on the floor.  Every Kenyan woman can bend like a hairpin, knees straight and butt up.  They do the laundry like that, as well as cooking and farming.  I once opined to Catherine that that might explain the prominent, muscular bottoms of Africans.  She exploded in laughter, but it makes sense to me.

Jeninta (p) has a housegirl, also named Jecinta (hg) and a niece of the same name.  Jecinta (hg) takes care of Jecinta’s daughter, Marylynne while Jecinta (p) is 30 yards away in her office or in class.  As housegirl jobs go, she has it pretty easy.  She and Marylynne spend a lot of time watching either cartoons or dubbed soaps, mostly Spanish.  I’ve bought Marylynne some books of African folk tales, which she immediately devoured, then went back to the soaps.

You may recall I’ve written about Elizabeth, the Sudanese girl who joined form 1.  When she arrived she had literally nothing.  Esther, the matron, had to do the shopping for her, uniform, shoes, socks, underwear, toiletries, most of which she had never seen, hair and skin care products, laundry and showering soaps, mattress, sheets, blankets, pens, pencils, books…  At the end of the term she went to Nakuru to stay with her uncle.  I had hoped she would agree to stay at SFG because she did very badly on her exams, but she was a bit homesick for Sudanese cooking, language etc.  It’s not that she’s not bright, she has never been to a regular school.  She didn’t have the idea of sitting in a desk in a classroom.  Yet she did pretty well on the KCPE, which is why she was admitted.  Last week, when the students returned for the tuitioning, Elizabeth didn’t show up.  I became concerned about her and emailed Gabriel in the US, the mentor of all the Sudanese kids in our schools to find out what he knew.  He called the uncle and discovered that she hadn’t understood about coming back to school.  After emails flew back and forth, we got the phone number of the uncle and sent some money for her matatu fare as well as for someone to bring her, as she had no idea of how to get here.  More shopping had to be done, although fortunately not all the expensive stuff, but more soap etc.  Esther and I took her to the supermarket, but I hadn’t brought enough cash for  everything.  She needed a second pair of shoes—she has only one pair.  School shoes are heavy laced black klunkers that must be kept clean and polished.  During the rainy season, they have to have 2 pair so one can be drying out.  She also needed something warmer than the sweater and “jumper”, which we would call a fleece jacket, as at this time of year it’s cold at SFG.  In fact, this year I have been colder than I ever remember.  The wind blows there, which is why our 2 windmills are so efficient, but in winter (now) it is not comfortable.

So today I walked down to the big outdoor market.  It’s actually 2 markets, one produce, which is held on Wednesday and Saturday (today is Sunday) while the more permanent part is a rabbit warren of small platforms on which goods are displayed, covered with some roofing that leaks.  The aisles are about 1 foot wide, very uneven because the water leaking from the roof makes ruts, washing away the soil and uncovering rocks which make walking through it very uneven.  I found myself grasping at posts from time to time to keep from falling.

Wish I’d taken a picture.  This one is the produce section from last year.

The more permanent part features used clothing—a vast display of almost anything one would want, at very low prices.  I’ve been told that markets like this are the destinations of some of the gift clothing sent by churches and other well-meaning- groups.  We may be dismayed at this, but it provides a living for many people and shoppers pay very little.  It may be much better, psychologically, that getting a hand-out.

I wanted a vest, either fleece or down for Elizabeth as well as a knitted hat.  It took some wandering about, but I finally found a nice warm vest for ksh 250 (about $2.75).  I couldn’t find the hat, so I walked over to the school uniform shop, owned by my friend, Mr Kingori.  As I neared the door, I saw him inside with someone massaging his right arm.  He greeted me effusively, as always, and explained that several years ago he had been shot during a mugging.  Only recently had the pins in his bone been removed and it pains him from time to time.  In case I thought about driving at night, this convinced me it’s not a good idea.

He had the hat I wanted and even has someone who will stitch names in the garments—even in the vest I’d bought down the road.

I haven’t written about the scene on the day the girls returned.  I had never been present on opening day and it was definitely a new experience.  All day girls come traipsing along the road that leads from the main highway, lugging their plastic bags of shopping, plus the backpacks stuffed with books and papers which they supposedly spent time pouring over during their 2-week break (Right!!!!)  All over Kenya on opening day, teachers search every item, looking for money, spray bottles, gum, hair straightening chemicals and in some cases, drugs or alcohol, although that has not been a problem at SFG.  This took place in the staff room, where I sat at my desk and watched the mob scene.  Two women teachers did the bag search, while 2 male teachers collected and recorded the pocket money anyone brought.  They can get it from the secretary whenever they need things, although there are no stores nearby.  In addition, shoes had to be removed to check for toenail polish—not permitted.  This is a tough place!

They’d been told to arrive before 5 pm, but matatus are unreliable and many were late, even some of the few brought by parents in cars.  The lateniks had to leave everything in the staff room until the next day, at which time only one teacher was there (rest were in class).  I volunteered to help, although I didn’t feel too comfortable piling through all the belongings.  In all the bags I searched, I found only 1 contraband item, a small piece of hard candy, which I gave to Patricia, the English teacher whom I was assisting.

Time for sleep.  Tomorrow is another day of teaching.

NOTE: if you’d like to learn more about the Kenyan ceramic jiko stove click here

#26 Coincidence or ????? You’ll have to read to the end to find out what the title means.

Monday August 15, 2011

#26 Coincidence or ?????  You’ll have to read to the end to find out what the title means.

I spent my day off going to Nakuru to visit my friend, George Mbugua and Mwangaza College, where he teaches .  (I forgot to take his picture, so had to hunt up this one from 2008.)  It’s something like a community college, but some of the students have no high school at all.  They are learning skills like hair dressing, tailoring/clothing design, accounting, computers, cooking/catering etc.

It was a bit of an adventure b/c I went by myself (no babysitter) on a matatu.  It’s about 1 ½ hours on what I once dubbed “the road from hell”, but now it’s a very nice highway, no potholes, just a few traffic bumps in the town.  George had to finish teaching his classes before he could meet me, so I wandered around a market with many, many produce stalls, full of luscious looking fruits and veggies of every description.  I then regretted having bought a papaya and mango very quickly before I left Naivasha.  It’s the usual thing to take a small gift when you go visiting and I thought I was going to be visiting George and his wife, Louise, in their home.  Duh!  Of course they were working!

Everyone wanted to sell me their goods and I had to be firm, but it was fun to wander through the narrow aisles, dodging shoppers, vendors, potholes, garbage/trash and small trenches full of water from recent rains.  This is not a place for the unbalanced!

When George arrived, we hopped on a matatu to his school, which is very nice, lovely buildings, plantings, and very welcoming.  I met the president, Brother Bernard, a Christian brother from the US east coast.  He spent a generous amount of time talking to me and praising George.  I had written a letter of recommendation for him when he left SFG, which he claims is what got him the job.

I got the full tour, including his class, where I spent a few minutes teaching them my favorite topic, FOIL.  These students are not the top of the class at all, but they seemed to pick it up (some of them).  It was fun, as it always is and the students were appreciative, as they always are.

I saw the catering class, a large kitchen, where students were busily cooking (what else?).  They served me a tasty lunch of ugali, stew and greens—a very traditional meal.

We peeked into the large library, equipped with computers where students can use the online services without charge, a very nice perk.  The tailoring class was practicing for their fashion show of clothing designed and executed by the students.  Nothing would do but I should stay to see some of the designs.  Here are several.

I remembered Virginia, SFG class of 2011, who wanted to be a dress designer.  I spoke to Brother Bernard about her and was told that even though her KCSE score was low, she would be a top student at Mwangaza, so I picked up a brochure for her.  Later as I got off the matatu back in Naivasha, I heard my name and turned to find a man I didn’t recognize clearly speaking to me.  He stuck out his hand, “Hi Margo, do you remember me?  I’m father to Virginia.”  Klunk!  Could have knocked me over with a feather.  I guess I had met him or how would he know who I am and my name.  This is what blew me away.  I’ve been here for 2 months, have walked by the stage (matatu station) where he works selling tickets many, many times, but today is the day I picked up the brochure for her and the day he spoke to me.  Too strange!  I gave him the brochure, in which he was very interested.  He is still paying off her fees at SFG, but hopes to have that cleared soon.  She can’t receive her certificate until the fees are paid, so can’t go further, although she has taken a computer class, as have most of the graduates.

But I’ve gotten ahead of myself.  After leaving Mwangaza, George and I hopped on piki pikis to go to his wife’s work.  She is a waitress in a petrol station fast food shop.  We had never met, but I liked her immediately.  She’s cute, open and friendly.  The 3 of us chatted over a glass of mango juice (my favorite).  She told me she grew up on a farm in a very fertile area and loves that life, raising cows, sheep, goats, pigs, chickens and growing maize and other foodstuffs.  George, too, grew up on a farm, but in a very dry, unfertile area, so it was hard to scratch out a living.  He loves teaching and while he didn’t say it clearly, my guess is he would be happy not to be a farmer again.

I had stopped at the local bookstore to buy some African folk tales for their daughter.  I had to guess her age, and thought it was between 6 and 8, so I bought accordingly.  Hmmm—she’s 3.  Oh well, mom and dad can read them and save until she grows into them.  It’s the thought that counts!  George tells me she is in baby class, which is the youngest of the 3 levels of preschool.  “What does she learn at school?”  “Letters, numbers (she can count to 50), colors.”  Sounds about like what our kids learn.

Back at the stage, George found the right matatu for me, but the express cars don’t leave until they are full.  I was only #2, out of 8 (this is a smaller version, not the 14 passenger ones).  While it slowly filled up, those of us already seated were considered fair game for all the hawkers and there were LOTS!  Some had baskets filled with peanuts, lollipops, gum, candy, cookies, others sold handkerchiefs (no one uses tissues here), socks, watches, cell phones, calculators, wallets, soft drinks, sausages, yogurt, water.  One after the other rapped on the window, which was closed on my side but open on the other end of the seat.  Some believe that “no” means you’re not interested, but some are so desperate they just keep pushing in hopes you will be worn down.  It always makes me very uncomfortable, as I know they are the poor and needy.  If I bought from each and every one of them, I’d be broke and it would not make a dent in anyone’s poverty.  I’m sure that anyone who has traveled in the developing world has experienced this and more.  I recall that the Chinese hawkers were among the most aggressive, but that may be b/c I was in an obvious tourist group, whereas here I’m just one mzungu on the matatu with a bunch of Africans.

Tomorrow I begin 2 weeks tuitioning at SFG.  I’ll spend three nights each at Jecinta’s house so I can teach the form 4’s in the evening, and the form 2’s during the day.  After that I have 3 days and then come home.  As much as I miss my family and friends, it is always very sad to leave.  But in the meantime I’m going to enjoy the time I have left.

Margo

#25 Peter Marries Peris

Saturday, August 13, 2011

#25 Peter Marries Peris

Peter Muigi, deputy principal at SFG, was a patient bridegroom today, when his wedding began at 11:30 am, having been scheduled for 10. 

I was even earlier, as Jecinta (p) had told me the time was 9.  I thought that was a bit early for a wedding anywhere and particularly when family was coming from far away and many guests depend on the vagaries of matatu schedules.  Guests generally stand outside the church until the bridal party arrives.  These young ladies shyly greeted me and were delighted to have their picture taken in front of the rose-covered arch through which the couple would enter the church.

The tradition here is that the bride must be fetched from her family home (hers was in Nakuru—1 ½ to 2 hours away) by the groom’s family.  She is accompanied by her family to the church.  However, when the distances are far and cars unpredictable, weddings are often delayed.  Here is Peter (left) with his best man.  He explained there had been a car breakdown (later Fr Kiriti told me there had been an accident and they were using his car).  Peter told me it would be another 45 minutes before the bride’s family would arrive, so Jecinta (p) and I decided to go to my house for some tea. 

When we came back we found the wedding had begun w/o the parents and a few of the bride’s attendants, but no matter.  It was a beautiful ceremony and a very happy couple.  The complete party arrived eventually, in time to fulfill their parts, which seemed to be a formal giving of the bride to the groom with all 4 parents participating.

Girls from SFG danced, the wonderful St Francis Xavier Church choir sang, there were roses everywhere, even petals  strewn in the aisle.

After the wedding part, the mass began, with Peter and Peris bringing the bread and wine to the alter, preceded by dancing girls and the attendants and followed by ladies of the parish who brought traditional gifts of bananas, potatoes and cabbages.

The mass was celebrated by 3 priests, all, I believe, former colleagues of Peter’s when he was in the seminary.  He left just a couple of years ago, right before he was to make the final decision.  He once told me it was a hard decision to leave, but he has not regretted it and I’m sure today he was GLAD!

The reception was held at SFG, which is about 10 kilometers from the church.  People who had no cars were transported in specially rented matatus or jammed into cars belonging to other guests.   The multi-purpose room, beautifully decorated with roses and pink and gray wall hangings.  The large and hungry crowd was fed generously with traditional foods—rice, potatoes mashed with green peas, so it looks light green, stew, ugali (it’s not a meal in Kenya without ugali), chopped cabbage, chapatis (fried bread) and sodas (it’s not a celebration in Kenya without sodas!) 

While the guests ate, the bridal pair was being photographed somewhere else.  Shortly they arrived, honking at the gate, where they were greeted by the groom’s  female friends and relatives.  They danced and whooped, teasingly slowing the car as it drove in.  Just as the B&G stepped from the car, the heavens let loose a true African downpour.  Someone produced an umbrella for the B&G, everyone ran back to the hall, but I had worn shoes I couldn’t run in and I’m not sure I could have run even in my Asics.  I was drenched.

I had worn my very best African dress and used Judy’s black shawl which she had kindly left for me.  My dress, the shawl and my hair were dripping.  And it was cold!  I knew if I stayed I would be deeply chilled, which wasn’t going to be fun, but how was I to get home?    Someone took pity on my poor shivering self and drove me back to the parish, where I put on every warm garment I have, which is not too many, made myself some hot tea and climbed into my bed.  Two hours later I awakened, warm and dry, evidently none the worse for the soaking, but sad that I had missed the party.  

A few years ago I had attended another wedding here and enjoyed seeing all the traditional dancing, presentation of gifts and other fun things.  I’m really bummed to have missed the best part, but there was no question of my staying.  I’ll just have to wait until next week when I’ll be Jecinta’s house guest, during the “tuitioning” at SFG, when students review the material they’ve studied for 2 terms before they begin the 3^rd and last term of the year.  She will tell me all about it, but it won’t be the same as my having been there.

Friday I finished my 2 weeks of “tuitioning” at Ndingi.  It got better every day and by the end I felt quite good about the sessions.  The boys were very sweet, thanking me for having come.  Fr Kiriti tells me the kids I teach will always remember the mzungu who came to teach them math.  I would prefer to be remembered by what I taught rather than my skin color, and I think that will be remembered too.

I haven’t written about the 3^rd workshop I gave, this time at the Pastoral Center in Nakuru.  It was the one promised me by the bishop.  Schools in the area were required to send 1 math teacher each and it seemed that some were not all that pleased to spend a day of their holiday listening to a gray-haired mzungu lady.  However, as I talked I could see the change in body language, facial expression and attention.  By the end, they were very engaged, not just in the calculators, but perhaps even more in the challenges I set them to think outside the box, be more independent, allow their students to be more creative in their thinking, delete the tedious, boring parts of the curriculum, discuss and share with colleagues (not too common here) and to try to effect modernizing changes in the KCSE, which drives the curriculum as well as the teaching.  It’s a message I have presented every time I’ve done a workshop and will continue to push.

At the end, when I asked for comments, several teachers spoke, saying they agreed and wished I could talk to the big honchos who set the curriculum and the exam.  I wish I could too, but I don’t know how to do that.  There is always next year!

Margo

#24 Kennedy

Monday, August 8, 2011

#24 Kennedy

I met Kennedy in August 2007 when he came to the rectory door, asking to see me.  I had attended a mass with Fr Kiriti at the home of Kennedy’s parents on the prison grounds, where the father was a guard.  Fr Kiriti had told the people I would be doing a “revising” session for 2 weeks at Ndingi.  The next day Kennedy was there, asking whether he could attend, even though it was supposed to be for Ndingi students only.  He was a quiet-spoken, earnest young man, just finishing form 1 at Naivasha Day High School.  He knew he needed help with math and he grabbed at the opportunity.  I told him to meet me at 8:30 the next morning so I could show him where to go.  He was there before 8, not wanting to be late.  We walked up the path to Ndingi that day and every day for 2 weeks and again the next summer.  During that time he told me his story, 2^nd born of a large family, father approaching mandatory retirement age of 55, with primary school aged children to educate.  Kennedy’s

hopes of going to university seemed pretty slim.  His dream was to be a pilot.  I was taken by his maturity, strength of purpose and idealism, and wondered how it would all work out for him.

Unfortunately it wasn’t good.  In early 2008 the post-election tribal clashes occurred.  Kennedy and family had gone north to the Luo tribal area for a family funeral.  It may well have saved their lives, as many Luos were killed in Naivasha and other Kikuyu areas.  However, their house was looted and they lost everything!

I’m trying to remember how it was that he was here later in the summer, after the tempers had cooled and the people tried to understand what had caused neighbors to kill neighbors.  I do know that he was here for 2 summer tutoring sessions, but gone the summer after that.

The second summer, Cyrus, our oldest at Mji Wa Neema also attended the tutoring sessions, and often walked up the path with Kennedy and me.  They became good friends and began to work together in the afternoons here in the dining hall.  Several times I wandered in to find their heads together, trying to sort out some problem I had given them.  They were about 15 at the time.

After that summer Kennedy’s family moved to the north, to Kisumu, in the Luo area.  However, the father was never able to find a steady job.  He became what is known as a casual worker.  Kennedy wrote to me, saying his parents couldn’t even afford a day school for him and I ached for this boy who wanted his education so badly.  I had originally decided to focus on the students at Ndingi and at the newly opened SFG, but in the end, I couldn’t let Kennedy founder, not even completing high school.  Despite this and many other unforeseen problems, like having malaria the day of his exams one year and in fact having malaria quite often b/c it is rampant in the Kisumu area, he soldiered on.

Last year he sat the KCSE, earning a B–, which is a quite creditable grade in Kenya.  Since then he has looked for jobs, but they are even scarcer in his area than in Naivasha.   Like his father, he finds casual jobs and hopes for things to improve.

Today he came to see me, traveling all night on a matatu and then waiting for me to finish my stint at Ndingi.  He has accepted that he can’t become a pilot, the cost is too high, but he told me his brother and a friend had both died due to medication errors and he thought he would like to study pharmacy to see whether he could make a contribution in that area.

He’s the same soft-spoken young man, now 5 years older than he was the day he knocked on the rectory door.  His situation is so sad, and unfortunately repeated millions of times, not just in Kenya, but all over the developing world.  Again, I can’t let him just stagnate.  He’s just too fine a person.  I remember conversations we on our daily treks up and down between the church compound and Ndingi, on making a contribution to one’s society, on staying in Kenya to make it as good as they all think the US is—all those ideals he and I both hang onto in the face of harsh realities.

One thing that impresses me greatly is the lack of bitterness and blame.  At best his life was going to be a challenge, but the clashes, the loss of the family material goods and his father’s inability to find work have made these past years bleak.  Yet he just keeps on trying to figure out how he can achieve his dreams.  Sometimes I get a bit irritated b/c I get asked so often for help.  But he didn’t actually ask me today.  He just told me his story.  Again I told myself, “Margo you can’t save them all!”  and I answered, “Yeah but I can save some of them.”  Kennedy’s a keeper.

So, he’s looking into doing something like a community college course, leading to a diploma (sort of an AA).  After that he can work and eventually get a bachelors degree in pharmacy.  It’s a long road, but I’m betting on him.