Have I mentioned my new found love of motorcycle rides? I am quite fond of that form of public transportation… which is odd because I consider them completely unsafe in Canada and question their necessity. But here, I think they are maybe even the preferred method of transportation for me, especially after my Matatu (a van with seats for 15 which has held up to 30 on my count) experience today. But I just gave you the beginning and the end of my day today, so I should fill in the details a little.
Today, Eric (the person who goes around and finds children to sponsor as well as organizing stuff) and I headed off to a remote area where he has been working to collect more sponsor kids. I have previously been to a school in a town called Mithini, which is quite a ways from ‘home.’ Today we went even farther than that. Since it is remote, there are not a lot of Matatus headed in that direction so after waiting for a good long time, we accepted one of the motorcycle drivers offer to take us there at a good price. Imagine totally safety conscious me getting on a small, oldish motorcycle, in a skirt, squashed between two grown men… and enjoying the ride. Granted, I was fairly tense because I didn’t want my body to throw the balance off or anything like that. I was sitting close enough to the driver that if I looked forward, my nose touched his helmet- so I just kept looking at either side and enjoying the scenery. He only had one helmet, which he wore, just to let you know. The scenery was gorgeous, by the way.
We got off and started walking towards our destination. (Having a fairly poor sense of direction at the best of times, I have no idea where we were or where we were going in comparison to where we were so I can’t give you too many details.) On the way, we met up with Pastor Peter Ndungu (I think that is what it was) who was the contact Eric had made who was from the area and helping Eric make contact with the neediest children’s families. He quickly offered or agreed to come with us for the day and off we went. He was quite the guide and took me to see caves and a huge rock where it is believed all the monkeys came from- too bad there were no monkeys though. It felt really good walking with the three of us- kind of like three old friends even though I hardly know either of them.
The point of the trip today was to take me to see two families how are living very difficult lives so Pastor Peter brought us there. The first home was the home of a grandma who lived with her two grandchildren. She lived in a mud house with a thatch roof. When we got to her place, we found her working in the area around her place where maize and beans are planted. You know, she didn’t strike me as impoverished. I can’t quite describe it. For sure she lacked money and resources. For sure she does not get enough vitamins, minerals, and probably calories in her diet. For sure she is lacking- but there was just a warmth and acceptance and graciousness that she exuded (as do many of these people) that made it so that her poverty didn’t strike me. I can’t quite explain it. She seemed happy. In a mud hut. Working all day every day barely making it by- she seemed more at peace than myself, my family, my community or most people I rub shoulders with in Canada. I am hesitant to even say that I didn’t see her as impoverished, because I know she was, but it is more complicated than that. She had so much to teach me, it felt like. Since Eric had told me about where were going, I had time to throw together some stuff that I had in my room that I didn’t need that I thought might be useful to her or her kids. It was pencils, notebooks, socks, little things like that. She was so grateful (according to the translation) and told me to please come again and the corn and beans would be ready.
Life is hard for this lady. She does not own land, and that makes you very vulnerable here. She is squatting with her family on government land where they raise their animals and plant their small crops, but she could get evicted at any time. She lives on the side of a large hill (I might almost call it mountain, but that is probably because I live in the prairies so anything bigger than a ditch seems like a mountain :) ) Where the only way up is a footpath winding between trees and rocks. So I imagine her with a sick child. There is no place even for a wheelbarrow to travel so if her child was sick, she would have to carry him. She is a small lady- about my size. I don’t know where her water came from. I didn’t see any near by places to find water. Her house, that she shares with at least two children, is about the size of two of my upstairs bathrooms. Her kitchen is a couple of five gallon pails. Her belongings could probably fit into those pails… and she seemed at peace.
On to the next part we went, which was actually when we went to see the monkeys. After the monkeys we headed to the second family. Once again, a grandmother was taking care of her grandchildren. She had nine who lived at home, although three were at boarding school during the term. We were there because WWB is hoping to sponsor the two youngest ones who are preschool age. As well as being older, taking care of her livestock (I saw a cow, a couple goats, chickens and chicks), taking care of nine grandchildren and everything that entails, her husband also has some mental issues which makes him run away every once and awhile. At least some of her grandchildren are orphaned, if not all, meaning that she has lost her children. Her face was all smiles when she saw us and right away got us a seat. I had some more stuff to give, which I got Eric to give because I want to stay away from the ‘white person brings stuff’ mentality, and somehow I ended up with a bag of fresh oranges in my back pack. I had gone to give and once again been given to. She was going to send one of the kids to buy us snacks, but the men convinced her not to.
She also told us of another child who just lost mother and father. It seems like the community really looks out for each other. You hear from this person about this situation and then there you get another lead and so on. It seems like what community is supposed to be. So we went to find another family with five children younger than four, one of who was a nephew of the lady. He had just lost both his parents.
After that, we decided to head back- which is good because I was getting hot and tired! We stopped to refresh at the pastor’s home and he showed me pictures of his life and I ended up with a bag of passion fruit- which is a new found love of mine as well. Then came a long, hot walk back to Mithini. Eric and I are starting to figure out how to converse enough that we can have good conversations and it is really interesting to hear how he thinks about things in Kenya and stuff. It is nice to have a friend here.
After stopping at a restaurant for chapatti and beans, we mounted a matatu, which I am also thrilled to say we safely dismounted as well. The driver was crazy! He was driving really fast to start with and the roads are not maintained for fast driving! Then, while picking up a passenger, another matatu passed us. Well, that was not okay! All of the sudden we were careening around corners, causing children to jump off the road in fear as we flew by and trying to manuever around the matatu in front of us. At one point the front matatu moved to the side of the road, at which point the driver whipped around him, floored it, and almost hit a motorcycle! There was a kid in the van who was crying because he was so scared! I was so not impressed. I was looking for a complaint phone number to call or something, but, alas, there was none. Sheesh! I have never been so close to being in an accident with another vehicle!
But this is too long again… I think I am becoming verbose without people here who fluently speak my language. Hope you are all well and enjoy the Easter season.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Sunday, March 28, 2010
A New Hairdo, Sponsor Day, etc.
Hello Everyone!
To start off, thank you all for reading this. I am surprised at how many people actually read what I write! I am not much of a blog reader and am pleasantly surprised that my writings are for an actual audience.
This last week has been fairly uneventful. I did the regular laundry, helping in the kitchen, helping on the computer (stupid thing has a pesky virus that I can’t get rid of!) and teaching the younger kids in the evening. I am trying to live as Kenyan of a lifestyle as I can rather than a Canadian lifestyle in Kenya. Quite honestly- it is a challenge! I am not used to not having cupboards of food to snack on any time I want. Here, they eat three meals a day. And that is about it. During mango season, which is just finishing, I could eat fruit throughout the day. Now there really isn’t anything. I miss my snacks. From my assessment, I am not lacking in calories or vitamins or anything so I don’t need anything… but it is very tempting to go and buy a samosa or a mendazi (which is pretty much fried dough- mmmmm).
One exciting thing that happened this week is that I got my hair done. I figured that spending money on my hair totally fit in with the culture so I headed to the salon to get my hair braided. I explained what I wanted and got something relatively close to it. I now have 33 tiny French braids in my hair. They were so tight it hurt to smile! I was sitting in the chair, trying not to move my scalp because it really hurt if I did, but then some muscle would move and my scalp would be pulling. But I didn’t know what muscle moved my scalp so I tried to concentrate and moving my scalp muscles, only to make it worse! Eventually I figured out that raising my eyebrows helped a little. It has loosened up now and is fun to have. It feels really cool.
On Friday, the kids all got new clothes. It seems like a big job to keep track of what all the kids have and don’t have and try to match that with clothes that are sent or left by volunteers. They work really hard to have accurate records of what they are given and what they give out. So, I tried to help, but eventually decided that I was more of a hindrance than a help and just watched. This week I am hopefully going to the biggest market in Kenya with two of the staff to buy clothes that we didn’t have for the kids. I am looking forward to getting out of the orphanage for a day and seeing more things. The clothes are sold garage sale style sort of. The markets are make shift booths made of sort of fit together wood and bags and whatever. The clothes are apparently second hand clothes intended for Tanzania aid, but are somehow sold to Kenya and then sold in the market. I am not sure how accurate that is or where the clothes are actually from.
On Saturday was sponsor kid day. That means that all the sponsor kids who do not live at the orphanage but are provided by the orphanage come and pick up their months supplies. Last month they got a sack of corn meal (I think that is what it was), 7 crayons, a pencil, shoes, clothes, soap, toothpaste, toothbrush and pens. These supplies are paid for by individual sponsors around the world- similar to the more well known World Vision or Compassion International. This month they got clothes, soap, tooth stuff, stickers, hotel bars of soap, a little toy (like one from McDonalds), beans and maize from government relief or something, Vaseline for their hair and a pack of 24 crayons! We found out last minute (actually after last minute because we were supposed to start at 10, but got the call after 10 to use up more of the supplies in the store room).
The whole process is an interesting one. The room, although filled with at least 50 kids plus some adults is almost silent to start. They sit and wait patiently, even though we are late in starting and even when we do start, it is a long process to get going. Once we have everything sorted (it is challenging to take a bunch of random stickers and make 50 relatively equal groups!) and ready to go, we call up one or two at a time to pick their pile of stuff and sign their name. I think that they are trying to promote ownership in the children or something because they sign their name for everything they get. Once the first round of supplies was distributed, we took out large luggage pieces filled with clothes and sorted those according to size and called up everyone again to take their stuff. The whole process took about 5 hours but no one acted as though they were in a hurry or like it was taking too long. People are much more used to waiting and being patient than I am.
Another thing I noted was how thrilled the kids were with their new stuff. If you think of it- they didn’t really get a whole lot that we would consider exciting. Hygiene products don’t usually make little kids happy. But their enjoyment of their supplies and their new McDonalds toy brought so many smiles and shining eyes. I would of loved to be able to capture the moment with a picture, but as soon as I take out my camera, the moment is over.
Well, I think that is all for today. Some day soon I want to talk about the energy it just takes to be alive in a place like this, but I think I will wait until I have visited a family who lives at the top of the hill- which should happen this week. Then I think I will really have a better sense of the harsh realities of poverty.
To start off, thank you all for reading this. I am surprised at how many people actually read what I write! I am not much of a blog reader and am pleasantly surprised that my writings are for an actual audience.
This last week has been fairly uneventful. I did the regular laundry, helping in the kitchen, helping on the computer (stupid thing has a pesky virus that I can’t get rid of!) and teaching the younger kids in the evening. I am trying to live as Kenyan of a lifestyle as I can rather than a Canadian lifestyle in Kenya. Quite honestly- it is a challenge! I am not used to not having cupboards of food to snack on any time I want. Here, they eat three meals a day. And that is about it. During mango season, which is just finishing, I could eat fruit throughout the day. Now there really isn’t anything. I miss my snacks. From my assessment, I am not lacking in calories or vitamins or anything so I don’t need anything… but it is very tempting to go and buy a samosa or a mendazi (which is pretty much fried dough- mmmmm).
One exciting thing that happened this week is that I got my hair done. I figured that spending money on my hair totally fit in with the culture so I headed to the salon to get my hair braided. I explained what I wanted and got something relatively close to it. I now have 33 tiny French braids in my hair. They were so tight it hurt to smile! I was sitting in the chair, trying not to move my scalp because it really hurt if I did, but then some muscle would move and my scalp would be pulling. But I didn’t know what muscle moved my scalp so I tried to concentrate and moving my scalp muscles, only to make it worse! Eventually I figured out that raising my eyebrows helped a little. It has loosened up now and is fun to have. It feels really cool.
On Friday, the kids all got new clothes. It seems like a big job to keep track of what all the kids have and don’t have and try to match that with clothes that are sent or left by volunteers. They work really hard to have accurate records of what they are given and what they give out. So, I tried to help, but eventually decided that I was more of a hindrance than a help and just watched. This week I am hopefully going to the biggest market in Kenya with two of the staff to buy clothes that we didn’t have for the kids. I am looking forward to getting out of the orphanage for a day and seeing more things. The clothes are sold garage sale style sort of. The markets are make shift booths made of sort of fit together wood and bags and whatever. The clothes are apparently second hand clothes intended for Tanzania aid, but are somehow sold to Kenya and then sold in the market. I am not sure how accurate that is or where the clothes are actually from.
On Saturday was sponsor kid day. That means that all the sponsor kids who do not live at the orphanage but are provided by the orphanage come and pick up their months supplies. Last month they got a sack of corn meal (I think that is what it was), 7 crayons, a pencil, shoes, clothes, soap, toothpaste, toothbrush and pens. These supplies are paid for by individual sponsors around the world- similar to the more well known World Vision or Compassion International. This month they got clothes, soap, tooth stuff, stickers, hotel bars of soap, a little toy (like one from McDonalds), beans and maize from government relief or something, Vaseline for their hair and a pack of 24 crayons! We found out last minute (actually after last minute because we were supposed to start at 10, but got the call after 10 to use up more of the supplies in the store room).
The whole process is an interesting one. The room, although filled with at least 50 kids plus some adults is almost silent to start. They sit and wait patiently, even though we are late in starting and even when we do start, it is a long process to get going. Once we have everything sorted (it is challenging to take a bunch of random stickers and make 50 relatively equal groups!) and ready to go, we call up one or two at a time to pick their pile of stuff and sign their name. I think that they are trying to promote ownership in the children or something because they sign their name for everything they get. Once the first round of supplies was distributed, we took out large luggage pieces filled with clothes and sorted those according to size and called up everyone again to take their stuff. The whole process took about 5 hours but no one acted as though they were in a hurry or like it was taking too long. People are much more used to waiting and being patient than I am.
Another thing I noted was how thrilled the kids were with their new stuff. If you think of it- they didn’t really get a whole lot that we would consider exciting. Hygiene products don’t usually make little kids happy. But their enjoyment of their supplies and their new McDonalds toy brought so many smiles and shining eyes. I would of loved to be able to capture the moment with a picture, but as soon as I take out my camera, the moment is over.
Well, I think that is all for today. Some day soon I want to talk about the energy it just takes to be alive in a place like this, but I think I will wait until I have visited a family who lives at the top of the hill- which should happen this week. Then I think I will really have a better sense of the harsh realities of poverty.
Saturday, March 20, 2010
Saturday Happenings
I watched some kids with fascination today and thought I would share it with you. Saturdays are a day mixed with fun and work. Today started out wet- very wet. And then it continued to rain most of the morning. After trying unsuccessfully to rid this computer of viruses, I organized some simple activities for the children to do in the dining hall area. I found puzzles, crayons, paper stencils and some books. The kids were thrilled. Children up to 10 we enjoying doing hello kitty puzzles and reading simple fiction books. It is amazing how the simple pleasures in life are enjoyed more then they are not considered the norm. All of the sudden the place started emptying out and all of the kids from Gr 1-6 headed out to the farm to plant. I was quite glad to stay with the Kindergarten kids and not get muddy. For fun, they spent 15-20 minutes copying out a hand made hundreds chart. They were so thrilled to be writing down numbers and excitedly showed me every couple minutes. I have yet to find a child who does not get excited about a paper and pencil. It is quite different than having to work really hard to get kids in my class to write notes or even just write anything!
I walked around the yard, checking what the kids were keeping themselves busy with and found three of the younger ones sitting perched on five gallon pails full of water. Of course, one of them was attempting to almost fall over, but they just sat there. Then an older child came with a scrub brush and scrubbed the legs and feet. A couple feet away were three boys sitting in the shade intently working with something. I walked a little closer and found a model of a van put together with sticks and mud. It had wheels that moved on their axis, an antennae, windows and all sorts of other incredible details considering it was made out of mud! Another boy was sitting with two long corn stalks and a five gallon pail lid. Later, I saw that he had found a nail or a stick and pierced the stalks on each side of the pail and ran around the yard guiding his stick with the two stalks.
The older girls did their laundry and directed the younger girls cleaning up their case of clothes. It is amazing that they all know whose clothes belong to who! Then, from what I can understand, some of the older girls took some of the younger girls into the shower stall with a pail of cold water and got them very clean (and very cold!). Meanwhile, the boys were getting dirty. The animal manure that is used for bio gas ends up in a holding tank that is emptied onto the garden and the field. They have a large drum (maybe 25 gallons) that they fill up by scooping out pails of poo and putting them in the drum. During the week, this job is done by the guy who does all the chores and manages the farm. Today, the oldest boy was on poop duty and had a crowd of about eight younger boys helping. The large drum is kept on a cart that is set up to be pulled by the bull, but seems to be pulled by people more often. Once the drum was full, the oldest boy arranged the younger boys along the side and he tried to pull the thing. I put two little boys on the back of the cart to make it a little easier and they loved it- while I cringed at the thought of poop splashing all over them! It was great to see them all work together to get past large rocks without spilling. They seem to enjoy work as much as play. It is all a matter of living life together and having fun regardless of whether you are planting seeds, spreading poo, cleaning your room, doing dishes, making supper, colouring, studying or whatever.
Although days like this leave me with a little too much free time and feeling a little out of place because I am not part of this routine, I love to watch the kids direct themselves, get jobs done, laugh together and enjoy life. It is inspiring.
I walked around the yard, checking what the kids were keeping themselves busy with and found three of the younger ones sitting perched on five gallon pails full of water. Of course, one of them was attempting to almost fall over, but they just sat there. Then an older child came with a scrub brush and scrubbed the legs and feet. A couple feet away were three boys sitting in the shade intently working with something. I walked a little closer and found a model of a van put together with sticks and mud. It had wheels that moved on their axis, an antennae, windows and all sorts of other incredible details considering it was made out of mud! Another boy was sitting with two long corn stalks and a five gallon pail lid. Later, I saw that he had found a nail or a stick and pierced the stalks on each side of the pail and ran around the yard guiding his stick with the two stalks.
The older girls did their laundry and directed the younger girls cleaning up their case of clothes. It is amazing that they all know whose clothes belong to who! Then, from what I can understand, some of the older girls took some of the younger girls into the shower stall with a pail of cold water and got them very clean (and very cold!). Meanwhile, the boys were getting dirty. The animal manure that is used for bio gas ends up in a holding tank that is emptied onto the garden and the field. They have a large drum (maybe 25 gallons) that they fill up by scooping out pails of poo and putting them in the drum. During the week, this job is done by the guy who does all the chores and manages the farm. Today, the oldest boy was on poop duty and had a crowd of about eight younger boys helping. The large drum is kept on a cart that is set up to be pulled by the bull, but seems to be pulled by people more often. Once the drum was full, the oldest boy arranged the younger boys along the side and he tried to pull the thing. I put two little boys on the back of the cart to make it a little easier and they loved it- while I cringed at the thought of poop splashing all over them! It was great to see them all work together to get past large rocks without spilling. They seem to enjoy work as much as play. It is all a matter of living life together and having fun regardless of whether you are planting seeds, spreading poo, cleaning your room, doing dishes, making supper, colouring, studying or whatever.
Although days like this leave me with a little too much free time and feeling a little out of place because I am not part of this routine, I love to watch the kids direct themselves, get jobs done, laugh together and enjoy life. It is inspiring.
Friday, March 19, 2010
Insulated Houses
This has been a blog that has been a long time in coming. It has been long enough that I have composed and recomposed it enough times in my head so I no longer remember whether or not I have already written some of this in another blog. :)
One of the first things I noticed here is the vulnerability of the Kenyans to the weather. I particularly noticed it doing the laundry. As you can imagine, washing clothes by hand and ringing them out on a sunny day is a lot of work. Add to that rain and humidity and it feels like quite the futile effort! I was excited this past Sunday because I washed my laundry and all the clothes dried fast enough that they didn’t smell musty! There is no shelter to hang the clothes when it is raining. The simple fact of life is that when it rains, your laundry gets wet. I got to thinking about how at home, it didn’t matter what the weather was- I could always do laundry and get clean, warm, nice smelling clothes.
This train of thought continued onto the housing. Houses here are made from a variety of materials. I have seen shacks that look like the next big wind might just blow them over. I have seen houses that look like pieces of flattened metal paint cans nailed onto wooden posts. I have seen houses made of cinder with a tin roof. But one thing that each of these houses has is that there is no insulation. There are the basic walls to keep things out and in as necessary, but there is not the layers of ‘protection’ that we have from outside. There are no three paned glass windows that seal out the heat or cold depending on the weather. In the cold, wet season, they are cold and sometimes wet. In the hot season, they are hot. It is just a fact of life. Whatever the weather is, that is what you will experience. I think when I get home and turn up my thermostat, it will be a different feeling because I know that there are friends of mine who are cold and all they can do is pile on more blankets if they have extra. [Now, probably some of you are getting confused because I am talking about cold and Kenya in the same paragraph, but it does actually get cold here- I have worn a sweater on several occasions and when I wear a sweater, then the Kenyans are most definitely feeling the cold as well.]
But this is a fairly shallow sense of insulation. My train of thought actually has gone way past that into making some hopefully extremely uncomfortable statements about our life in the west. I think that we all live in insulated houses, in insulated worlds and often we fight to keep it that way. The last time I heard the numbers, 20% of the world was consuming %80 of its resources while that leaves %80 of the world to use the other %20. Stop for a moment and let that sink in. If you are like me (and I think the fact that you are reading this blog makes for a good chance that you are) you are definitely placed in that top 20%! Actually, probably somewhere closer to the top 5 or 10%. Let that sink it- it took me a couple years to really get it. You are being greedy in how you live your life. Your lifestyle is costing someone else. Possibly to the extent where your lifestyle is costing someone else their life. Think about the richest person in the world… the wealth comparison between them and you is less of a gap than the gap between you and much of the world. That is how wealthy you are.
But we don’t like to hear that. We write people who tell us this off as fanatics or really not getting our hearts because we really do try our best and we work hard for our money so we deserve it and, besides, we wouldn’t want to enable them or anything like that so what more can we do. We insulate ourselves from feeling the helplessness and sometimes hopelessness that can creep in when we realize the situation of our fellow humans around the world. We don’t like to feel uncomfortable and so we don’t.
And I am no exception. I don’t like it that people here keep asking me to find sponsors for, or to sponsor, the kids. I have even met the kids and it still makes me squirm. They don’t know I am unemployed, I tell myself and put up my one layer of insulation. I have to plan for the future- who knows what will happen! Another layer of insulation. Besides, the problem is so big- what could I do? And there is a third layer of insulation so that I can look at the face of a child and not feel pain when they tell me that their mother died when they were young, their father has never been around, and their grandmother who they live with, has no employment. I can write down the facts and move on to the next story. But wait a minute! This is a child. This is a child the same age as my sister! What if that was Taylor standing there talking to someone and telling them that she had no food. She had no assurance of affording her school uniform, let alone buying regular clothes or thinking about the long term future. I would hope that her story would get through the layers of insulation around people and make them see her and do something. I would want Taylor to have a care free childhood- one that wasn’t focused on getting food and water for tomorrow. But if life had it that Taylor were not my sister and was a Kenyan (or someone from many other parts of the world)- would I see her? Would I feel her need and would it break my heart?
My garbage can in my room is full. The fact that I have a garbage can is odd because garbage is something that is only starting to come into this country. I have been thinking about how much garbage I am making here as well as how much at home. It is a sign of how much I am consuming. I think it is normal to use so many resources because that is all I know. That is what everyone does. We drive cars, build really big houses, acquire a lot of needs and then spend a lot of time seeking to fulfill those needs. Getting away from all that gives a different perspective and understanding. Having a favorite food is a luxury! If you have eaten enough of a diversity of food to have a favorite- Wow! Or even if you have say in what you eat and it isn’t driven by what is cheapest and will make you feel fullest without hunger pangs, then Wow! We have favorite colors. We want our shirts to fit just so and then suddenly don’t like them when they are ‘out of fashion.’ We think entertainment is a legitimate thing to spend a whole bunch of money on. And the list goes on. We consume without thought. And there goes that chunk of world resources down our various tubes…
This topic is so big in my mind. There are so many injustices in the world in terms of resource use and the consequences of that, but those with the resources and therefore the power care so little. We tithe (good ole’ 10%) but if we really felt the pain of those in need, how could we justify using the enormous 90% that is left? Ack! It feels like I am mumbling and bumbling around something that just isn’t coming out. I wish I had unlimited internet so that I could research what your access to resources could do!
I found a quote in a book I read (which quoted this quote) that really struck me as pertaining to this and rather bold and challenging.
To believe in God is to believe in the salvation of the world. The paradox of our time is that those who believe in God do not believe in the salvation of the world, and those who believe in the future of the world do not believe in God.
Christians believe in “the end of the world,” they expect the final catastrophe, the punishment of others.
Atheists in their turn… refuse to believe in God because Christians believe in him and take no interest in the world…
Which is the more culpable ignorance?
… I often say to myself that, in our religion, God must feel very much alone: for is there anyone besides God who believes in the salvation of the world? God seeks among us sons and daughters who resemble him enough, who love the world enough so that he could send them into the world to save it.
Louis Evely, In the Christian Spirit (Image, 1975)
Another quote that I came across this morning from Richard Rohr is
Brothers and sisters, the irony is not that God should feel so fiercely; it’s that his creatures feel so feebly. If there is nothing in your life to cry about, if there is nothing in your life to yell about, you must be out of touch. We must all feel and know the immense pain of humanity. The free space that God leads us into is to be able to feel the full spectrum, from great exaltation and joy, to the pain of mourning and dying and suffering. Then we are no longer isolated, but a true member of the universal Body of Christ.
For the sake of the rest of the world and because it is wrong, bad, harmful or whatever other negative word that you can think of, to do otherwise, become aware of what is insulating your life. Refuse to not see. Refuse to be okay with injustice. Be uncomfortable! There is so much that each of you can do (and that includes my old students who are reading this even though you are young!). If the tables were flipped and you were part of the 80% with 20% of the world’s resources, how would you want someone to respond?
One of the first things I noticed here is the vulnerability of the Kenyans to the weather. I particularly noticed it doing the laundry. As you can imagine, washing clothes by hand and ringing them out on a sunny day is a lot of work. Add to that rain and humidity and it feels like quite the futile effort! I was excited this past Sunday because I washed my laundry and all the clothes dried fast enough that they didn’t smell musty! There is no shelter to hang the clothes when it is raining. The simple fact of life is that when it rains, your laundry gets wet. I got to thinking about how at home, it didn’t matter what the weather was- I could always do laundry and get clean, warm, nice smelling clothes.
This train of thought continued onto the housing. Houses here are made from a variety of materials. I have seen shacks that look like the next big wind might just blow them over. I have seen houses that look like pieces of flattened metal paint cans nailed onto wooden posts. I have seen houses made of cinder with a tin roof. But one thing that each of these houses has is that there is no insulation. There are the basic walls to keep things out and in as necessary, but there is not the layers of ‘protection’ that we have from outside. There are no three paned glass windows that seal out the heat or cold depending on the weather. In the cold, wet season, they are cold and sometimes wet. In the hot season, they are hot. It is just a fact of life. Whatever the weather is, that is what you will experience. I think when I get home and turn up my thermostat, it will be a different feeling because I know that there are friends of mine who are cold and all they can do is pile on more blankets if they have extra. [Now, probably some of you are getting confused because I am talking about cold and Kenya in the same paragraph, but it does actually get cold here- I have worn a sweater on several occasions and when I wear a sweater, then the Kenyans are most definitely feeling the cold as well.]
But this is a fairly shallow sense of insulation. My train of thought actually has gone way past that into making some hopefully extremely uncomfortable statements about our life in the west. I think that we all live in insulated houses, in insulated worlds and often we fight to keep it that way. The last time I heard the numbers, 20% of the world was consuming %80 of its resources while that leaves %80 of the world to use the other %20. Stop for a moment and let that sink in. If you are like me (and I think the fact that you are reading this blog makes for a good chance that you are) you are definitely placed in that top 20%! Actually, probably somewhere closer to the top 5 or 10%. Let that sink it- it took me a couple years to really get it. You are being greedy in how you live your life. Your lifestyle is costing someone else. Possibly to the extent where your lifestyle is costing someone else their life. Think about the richest person in the world… the wealth comparison between them and you is less of a gap than the gap between you and much of the world. That is how wealthy you are.
But we don’t like to hear that. We write people who tell us this off as fanatics or really not getting our hearts because we really do try our best and we work hard for our money so we deserve it and, besides, we wouldn’t want to enable them or anything like that so what more can we do. We insulate ourselves from feeling the helplessness and sometimes hopelessness that can creep in when we realize the situation of our fellow humans around the world. We don’t like to feel uncomfortable and so we don’t.
And I am no exception. I don’t like it that people here keep asking me to find sponsors for, or to sponsor, the kids. I have even met the kids and it still makes me squirm. They don’t know I am unemployed, I tell myself and put up my one layer of insulation. I have to plan for the future- who knows what will happen! Another layer of insulation. Besides, the problem is so big- what could I do? And there is a third layer of insulation so that I can look at the face of a child and not feel pain when they tell me that their mother died when they were young, their father has never been around, and their grandmother who they live with, has no employment. I can write down the facts and move on to the next story. But wait a minute! This is a child. This is a child the same age as my sister! What if that was Taylor standing there talking to someone and telling them that she had no food. She had no assurance of affording her school uniform, let alone buying regular clothes or thinking about the long term future. I would hope that her story would get through the layers of insulation around people and make them see her and do something. I would want Taylor to have a care free childhood- one that wasn’t focused on getting food and water for tomorrow. But if life had it that Taylor were not my sister and was a Kenyan (or someone from many other parts of the world)- would I see her? Would I feel her need and would it break my heart?
My garbage can in my room is full. The fact that I have a garbage can is odd because garbage is something that is only starting to come into this country. I have been thinking about how much garbage I am making here as well as how much at home. It is a sign of how much I am consuming. I think it is normal to use so many resources because that is all I know. That is what everyone does. We drive cars, build really big houses, acquire a lot of needs and then spend a lot of time seeking to fulfill those needs. Getting away from all that gives a different perspective and understanding. Having a favorite food is a luxury! If you have eaten enough of a diversity of food to have a favorite- Wow! Or even if you have say in what you eat and it isn’t driven by what is cheapest and will make you feel fullest without hunger pangs, then Wow! We have favorite colors. We want our shirts to fit just so and then suddenly don’t like them when they are ‘out of fashion.’ We think entertainment is a legitimate thing to spend a whole bunch of money on. And the list goes on. We consume without thought. And there goes that chunk of world resources down our various tubes…
This topic is so big in my mind. There are so many injustices in the world in terms of resource use and the consequences of that, but those with the resources and therefore the power care so little. We tithe (good ole’ 10%) but if we really felt the pain of those in need, how could we justify using the enormous 90% that is left? Ack! It feels like I am mumbling and bumbling around something that just isn’t coming out. I wish I had unlimited internet so that I could research what your access to resources could do!
I found a quote in a book I read (which quoted this quote) that really struck me as pertaining to this and rather bold and challenging.
To believe in God is to believe in the salvation of the world. The paradox of our time is that those who believe in God do not believe in the salvation of the world, and those who believe in the future of the world do not believe in God.
Christians believe in “the end of the world,” they expect the final catastrophe, the punishment of others.
Atheists in their turn… refuse to believe in God because Christians believe in him and take no interest in the world…
Which is the more culpable ignorance?
… I often say to myself that, in our religion, God must feel very much alone: for is there anyone besides God who believes in the salvation of the world? God seeks among us sons and daughters who resemble him enough, who love the world enough so that he could send them into the world to save it.
Louis Evely, In the Christian Spirit (Image, 1975)
Another quote that I came across this morning from Richard Rohr is
Brothers and sisters, the irony is not that God should feel so fiercely; it’s that his creatures feel so feebly. If there is nothing in your life to cry about, if there is nothing in your life to yell about, you must be out of touch. We must all feel and know the immense pain of humanity. The free space that God leads us into is to be able to feel the full spectrum, from great exaltation and joy, to the pain of mourning and dying and suffering. Then we are no longer isolated, but a true member of the universal Body of Christ.
For the sake of the rest of the world and because it is wrong, bad, harmful or whatever other negative word that you can think of, to do otherwise, become aware of what is insulating your life. Refuse to not see. Refuse to be okay with injustice. Be uncomfortable! There is so much that each of you can do (and that includes my old students who are reading this even though you are young!). If the tables were flipped and you were part of the 80% with 20% of the world’s resources, how would you want someone to respond?
Saturday, March 13, 2010
Internet issues
Just a side note- thanks for those who are commenting- I love to hear your thoughts and reactions and know that people are reading this. Also, for those who are emailing, I am having internet problems right now. My internet stays connected for about 8 seconds before quitting. This makes it hard to do anything! It took me about ten connections to post the last blog and emailing you back is impossible. Hopefully this will get fixed within the week.
A Day in the Life…
I have been here long enough to get a little sense of what life is like here. At least, I know what my experience of it is and will tell you that as long as you don’t read this and imagine me knowing everything about how all of Kenya is. :)
My day starts around 7 when I wake up and do the whole brush your teeth, get dressed, etc. stuff. I do the same stuff I do in Canada, it just takes a little more time. I get drinkable water to brush my teeth from the tap by the kitchen and then head to the ‘spitting rock’ which is where all the kids brush their teeth and spit out the toothpaste. The washrooms are close to the spitting rock, but I need to bring my own toilet paper and soap with me to them because there isn’t any in them. Have I told you about the toilets yet? I don’t think so. Imagine an outhouse. Now take away the toilet seat. Now take away the wooden structure that you sit on and all that is left is a hole in the ground. The ground is cement and cleaned regularly, which is good because let’s just say using a hole in the ground is a learning process. After all that is done, I walk the nursery kids to school in the village close to here. They walk super slow and banter and bicker and I generally have no idea if they are fighting or just talking, but usually they are happy by the time we get there and we haven’t been late as far as I know. Then comes breakfast, which is bread and chai. The beginning of my day is pretty much the same every weekday.
Between 8:30 and 9:30, depending on what I am doing, I will start my work for the day. I am rotating my time between helping in the kitchen or with laundry, working in the local school (where I cause quite a disturbance), and doing field work (which is traveling around the community checking on sponsored kids and making sure they are doing well).
I am usually back at the orphanage between 1 and 3, at which point I have lunch. My afternoons are usually spent doing whatever I want and preparing for teaching in the evening. Kids start getting off school around 3pm. At 6:30, kids are all expected to be doing homework or learning. I have asked to teach the youngest ones because they rarely have homework and I thought it would be an opportunity to make a little difference. I have 16 students between Kindergarten and Gr. 2. They are taught in English at school so sometimes they understand me. They do not listen to me at all at this point, and I don’t really blame them. With volunteers coming and going regularly (and often being referred to as volunteers rather than there names) if they listen to the ramblings of all these adults, it would be confusing. But… they will need to learn to listen. They are super eager to learn and just giggle when they get to do work that is a little hard but still manageable. I told three girls to write out the number words for 15 through 21 and they collapsed on the floor in giggles! Not sure why, but I will take it as a good sign. The orphanage manager is extremely positive about my work and I enjoy being able to teach a small amount without curriculum solely based on development.
Class goes for 90 minutes and supper starts at 8pm. By this time, even though days generally don’t feel productive in my normal sense of the word, I am tired. I help serve the kids and provide guidance where necessary, but I haven’t yet quite figured out what expectations to enforce so I mostly watch. After super, the kids all brush their teeth and then they have a short devotions led by the older children. They read the bible in Kikuyu (their mother tongue) and then English (their official language). They sing a song and say the Lord’s Prayer and then usually they meander their way to bed. The younger ones are almost sleeping by this point and I think the older ones are supposed to be quiet by 9pm. By then, I am ready for bed. Up until now, Tam and I would chat and get ready for bed by around 10, but I guess that since she is gone now, I will have to develop a new routine.
I am hoping to teach the staff here some computer skills. I have already set up one with a gmail account and started him on creating spreadsheets. I was impressed to find him creating his own yesterday- it was rewarding. They have some computers that need to be set up and I am trying to figure out if setting them up using open source software would be a good idea even though most people use Microsoft products. I like the idea that they would be able to have computers set up in Swahili (their national language) and English, but am not sure if getting them used to slightly different operating systems and slightly different programs would hinder them in the long run. Personally, I like the open source stuff but am not sure what to do. I might set up one and see how easy it is for people to use. Once I set up the computers, or someone else sets them up, I am hoping to do a little more teaching of computers, although the orphanage is looking for someone local to teach full time.
Lately, I have been doing a lot of traveling around, which has broken up routine a bit. I have seen two other orphanages and gone to Thika, the closest major town. I also went to market in a town a little further away, which I loved. The market close to here is okay, but it just doesn’t feel the same as the other one. Anyways, this is already long. Enough for now.
My day starts around 7 when I wake up and do the whole brush your teeth, get dressed, etc. stuff. I do the same stuff I do in Canada, it just takes a little more time. I get drinkable water to brush my teeth from the tap by the kitchen and then head to the ‘spitting rock’ which is where all the kids brush their teeth and spit out the toothpaste. The washrooms are close to the spitting rock, but I need to bring my own toilet paper and soap with me to them because there isn’t any in them. Have I told you about the toilets yet? I don’t think so. Imagine an outhouse. Now take away the toilet seat. Now take away the wooden structure that you sit on and all that is left is a hole in the ground. The ground is cement and cleaned regularly, which is good because let’s just say using a hole in the ground is a learning process. After all that is done, I walk the nursery kids to school in the village close to here. They walk super slow and banter and bicker and I generally have no idea if they are fighting or just talking, but usually they are happy by the time we get there and we haven’t been late as far as I know. Then comes breakfast, which is bread and chai. The beginning of my day is pretty much the same every weekday.
Between 8:30 and 9:30, depending on what I am doing, I will start my work for the day. I am rotating my time between helping in the kitchen or with laundry, working in the local school (where I cause quite a disturbance), and doing field work (which is traveling around the community checking on sponsored kids and making sure they are doing well).
I am usually back at the orphanage between 1 and 3, at which point I have lunch. My afternoons are usually spent doing whatever I want and preparing for teaching in the evening. Kids start getting off school around 3pm. At 6:30, kids are all expected to be doing homework or learning. I have asked to teach the youngest ones because they rarely have homework and I thought it would be an opportunity to make a little difference. I have 16 students between Kindergarten and Gr. 2. They are taught in English at school so sometimes they understand me. They do not listen to me at all at this point, and I don’t really blame them. With volunteers coming and going regularly (and often being referred to as volunteers rather than there names) if they listen to the ramblings of all these adults, it would be confusing. But… they will need to learn to listen. They are super eager to learn and just giggle when they get to do work that is a little hard but still manageable. I told three girls to write out the number words for 15 through 21 and they collapsed on the floor in giggles! Not sure why, but I will take it as a good sign. The orphanage manager is extremely positive about my work and I enjoy being able to teach a small amount without curriculum solely based on development.
Class goes for 90 minutes and supper starts at 8pm. By this time, even though days generally don’t feel productive in my normal sense of the word, I am tired. I help serve the kids and provide guidance where necessary, but I haven’t yet quite figured out what expectations to enforce so I mostly watch. After super, the kids all brush their teeth and then they have a short devotions led by the older children. They read the bible in Kikuyu (their mother tongue) and then English (their official language). They sing a song and say the Lord’s Prayer and then usually they meander their way to bed. The younger ones are almost sleeping by this point and I think the older ones are supposed to be quiet by 9pm. By then, I am ready for bed. Up until now, Tam and I would chat and get ready for bed by around 10, but I guess that since she is gone now, I will have to develop a new routine.
I am hoping to teach the staff here some computer skills. I have already set up one with a gmail account and started him on creating spreadsheets. I was impressed to find him creating his own yesterday- it was rewarding. They have some computers that need to be set up and I am trying to figure out if setting them up using open source software would be a good idea even though most people use Microsoft products. I like the idea that they would be able to have computers set up in Swahili (their national language) and English, but am not sure if getting them used to slightly different operating systems and slightly different programs would hinder them in the long run. Personally, I like the open source stuff but am not sure what to do. I might set up one and see how easy it is for people to use. Once I set up the computers, or someone else sets them up, I am hoping to do a little more teaching of computers, although the orphanage is looking for someone local to teach full time.
Lately, I have been doing a lot of traveling around, which has broken up routine a bit. I have seen two other orphanages and gone to Thika, the closest major town. I also went to market in a town a little further away, which I loved. The market close to here is okay, but it just doesn’t feel the same as the other one. Anyways, this is already long. Enough for now.
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Adventures in Travel
I just about got ran over by a donkey today!!!! Tam and I were walking to catch a matatu (bus) and there was a donkey pulling a cart being encouraged (with a shovel to the back) by his owner to run- well, apparently we were a great target. Tam and I moved off the road only to have him continue to head straight for us! Then the owner got him to move over... only after we had jumped back into a pile of thorn bushes. I was pretty excited that I can now say that I was run off the road by a donkey- most people don't get that claim to fame. The matatu that we caught managed to fit thirty people into a twelve passenger van- it was the most crowded that I have been on yet. Fun, fun, fun :)
Sunday, March 7, 2010
White Power and Privilege
Something that I started thinking about, and recognizing in Canadian society, is the role of white power and privilege in how our society functions, or in some cases fails to function. The whole concept is something new to me, and therefore difficult to articulate, but I thought that I would try anyways because my power and privilege seems to have followed me here- much to my chagrin.
My basic definition, without being able to look at my notes or readings on the subject that I left at home is as follows. White privilege and power is basically power or privileges that are attributed to one because they are white. For example, in stores throughout the city I am basically trusted. My students who were aboriginal would immediately be watched carefully simply because of the color of their skin. They were in Gr. 3 & 4 at the time and went shopping with their mom. Simply because they weren’t in the north end, where people are used to seeing aboriginals, but rather in another area of the city where prejudice is rampant, they were subject to suspicion. That is a really simple example, but for now, it is what I got.
Once again, I cannot escape being white. Me being white gives me a different status here. I sat and talked with a man who had his masters in something chemistry related and who taught high school in Kenya while I was waiting for some samosas from the small restaurant in a near by town. He was keen to converse and, being a teacher, I was interested in what he taught, etc. He heard I was volunteering at an orphanage and expressed his desire to help with whatever I needed. I suggested that I get him in contact with the orphanage manager, Zac, at which point he lost enthusiasm. Now, I know it could be something else, but it felt like a lot of giving me respect and help simply because I was white, while the Kenyans who actually know what is going on and run this place, do not get the same respect.
I have been asked to speak to people about AIDS/HIV. I know almost nothing about the subject, but they want me to talk to people and tell them that HIV is not a death sentence. The whole country is working hard to decrease stigmatization that comes with the diagnosis as well as combating people just giving up on life when they get diagnosed. Their primary reason for wanting me to speak to people (who I have never met, have no relationship with or anything like that) is because I am white and they will listen to me more than their own doctors. So, part of me wants to say no, I will not speak to them about that because I don’t want to perpetuate the cycle of white people thinking or being always thought to know best. I am white. I know I can’t get away from that. And maybe I don’t even want to. But what do I do with that whiteness? It is like a resource that comes with being my colour that I hardly understand and don’t know how to best use it. I want to somehow use it to deconstruct the whole phenomenon (if that is right word) and build up the Kenyan doctors where they can be the experts in their field. I want to use my power to deconstruct my power so that all around the world there is a level playing field where my ideas don’t carry more weight just because of my skin colour. But then in the mean time, what about those people I could talk to?
The whole white privilege/power thing makes me cautious about giving ideas here at the orphanage as well. You can see remnants of well intentioned volunteers doing things that made sense to them that haven’t continued because they didn’t really fit into things. And I often catch myself trying to solve problems I don’t understand and thinking that I have the solution before understanding the problem and situation. But then, balancing that caution, there are legitimate skills that I have that are rare here that I could pass on. For example, some of the teaching practices that I have learned and practiced could help some of the teachers (in my opinion). But what are the ramifications of that? The teachers that I have talked to are always asking if this is how we do things in Canada and I don’t know how to be honest and give authentic feedback and still honor how they are doing things because they quickly think my way is best.
It is an interesting and challenging thing to balance and I was wishfully thinking that I would be able to leave this one at home… oh well. So the struggle continues.
In the middle of the reality of being assumed to be more able and competent than most people here (rather than actually assessing my competency) things are going well. I am working to carve out a place for myself here and have started teaching the nursery through class 2 (which is the same as K-2). I am not used to the teaching style here or the learning style (a lot of rote) or the language, so it is fairly bumpy so far. The kids are the keenest learners that I have worked with and they eat everything up- from the youngest to the oldest! I was counting by tens today with them and has the nursery trying to keep up and someone in Gr 5 (I think) enjoying doing it with everyone.
Tamara (my sister) and I went to the Maasai Market in Nairobi today and saw some beautiful things. If you ever want to feel wanted and get lots of attention- go to this market. I had so many people greeting me and telling me that, I was so special I would get a good price. People kept telling me to ‘come here’ and my instinct was that I had to listen to all of them. That got old pretty fast and I got a little bolder (or maybe it was ruder) and said ‘no’ a lot of times.
Right now, it is just Tam and I here in terms of volunteers. Tam leaves at the end of the week and then it will be just me until the next volunteers get here- although I don’t know when that will be. I have a whole list of things to write about so I will probably be trying to blog a bit more while I have thoughts percolating so keep checking back. Talk to you later!
My basic definition, without being able to look at my notes or readings on the subject that I left at home is as follows. White privilege and power is basically power or privileges that are attributed to one because they are white. For example, in stores throughout the city I am basically trusted. My students who were aboriginal would immediately be watched carefully simply because of the color of their skin. They were in Gr. 3 & 4 at the time and went shopping with their mom. Simply because they weren’t in the north end, where people are used to seeing aboriginals, but rather in another area of the city where prejudice is rampant, they were subject to suspicion. That is a really simple example, but for now, it is what I got.
Once again, I cannot escape being white. Me being white gives me a different status here. I sat and talked with a man who had his masters in something chemistry related and who taught high school in Kenya while I was waiting for some samosas from the small restaurant in a near by town. He was keen to converse and, being a teacher, I was interested in what he taught, etc. He heard I was volunteering at an orphanage and expressed his desire to help with whatever I needed. I suggested that I get him in contact with the orphanage manager, Zac, at which point he lost enthusiasm. Now, I know it could be something else, but it felt like a lot of giving me respect and help simply because I was white, while the Kenyans who actually know what is going on and run this place, do not get the same respect.
I have been asked to speak to people about AIDS/HIV. I know almost nothing about the subject, but they want me to talk to people and tell them that HIV is not a death sentence. The whole country is working hard to decrease stigmatization that comes with the diagnosis as well as combating people just giving up on life when they get diagnosed. Their primary reason for wanting me to speak to people (who I have never met, have no relationship with or anything like that) is because I am white and they will listen to me more than their own doctors. So, part of me wants to say no, I will not speak to them about that because I don’t want to perpetuate the cycle of white people thinking or being always thought to know best. I am white. I know I can’t get away from that. And maybe I don’t even want to. But what do I do with that whiteness? It is like a resource that comes with being my colour that I hardly understand and don’t know how to best use it. I want to somehow use it to deconstruct the whole phenomenon (if that is right word) and build up the Kenyan doctors where they can be the experts in their field. I want to use my power to deconstruct my power so that all around the world there is a level playing field where my ideas don’t carry more weight just because of my skin colour. But then in the mean time, what about those people I could talk to?
The whole white privilege/power thing makes me cautious about giving ideas here at the orphanage as well. You can see remnants of well intentioned volunteers doing things that made sense to them that haven’t continued because they didn’t really fit into things. And I often catch myself trying to solve problems I don’t understand and thinking that I have the solution before understanding the problem and situation. But then, balancing that caution, there are legitimate skills that I have that are rare here that I could pass on. For example, some of the teaching practices that I have learned and practiced could help some of the teachers (in my opinion). But what are the ramifications of that? The teachers that I have talked to are always asking if this is how we do things in Canada and I don’t know how to be honest and give authentic feedback and still honor how they are doing things because they quickly think my way is best.
It is an interesting and challenging thing to balance and I was wishfully thinking that I would be able to leave this one at home… oh well. So the struggle continues.
In the middle of the reality of being assumed to be more able and competent than most people here (rather than actually assessing my competency) things are going well. I am working to carve out a place for myself here and have started teaching the nursery through class 2 (which is the same as K-2). I am not used to the teaching style here or the learning style (a lot of rote) or the language, so it is fairly bumpy so far. The kids are the keenest learners that I have worked with and they eat everything up- from the youngest to the oldest! I was counting by tens today with them and has the nursery trying to keep up and someone in Gr 5 (I think) enjoying doing it with everyone.
Tamara (my sister) and I went to the Maasai Market in Nairobi today and saw some beautiful things. If you ever want to feel wanted and get lots of attention- go to this market. I had so many people greeting me and telling me that, I was so special I would get a good price. People kept telling me to ‘come here’ and my instinct was that I had to listen to all of them. That got old pretty fast and I got a little bolder (or maybe it was ruder) and said ‘no’ a lot of times.
Right now, it is just Tam and I here in terms of volunteers. Tam leaves at the end of the week and then it will be just me until the next volunteers get here- although I don’t know when that will be. I have a whole list of things to write about so I will probably be trying to blog a bit more while I have thoughts percolating so keep checking back. Talk to you later!
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