Out of Africa

Out of Africa, by Karen Blixen is a lovely biography of colonial Kenya, full of dense language and beautiful descriptions of the country and its people. Blixen, seeing the country through colonialist eyes and also in retrospect from her native Denmark, saw a nobility in the natives, that is not apparent to me. I see their poverty and their desperation as well as a dismal future.

Today, we went to Nairobi. We left the matatu and walked downtown. Soon we were met by a man claiming to be from Zimbabwe, whose family, he claimed, had not eaten for days. Perhaps we could buy him a bag of rice. We have heard the same pitch, in the same words, on almost every trip to the city. We are quite sure it is a con and we carry on. A short time later we were approached by a man selling bracelets. When we declined he begged for something small from us. Later we passed a man with no legs, whom we meet begging each time we take a certain street. We generally give him some small amount. A short time later we brush off a man who starts into the same pitch as the alleged Zimbabwian. Later in the day, after returning home, a Kenyan worker at our school asked if I could give him 50Ksh (the equivalent of about 90 cents). Imagine having to ask for that amount! And still later another person we hardly know asked to borrow $15.00.

These things are nothing. Just reminders during the day of the poverty here, and as if that were not enough the papers are full of accounts of violence, abuse of women and children, corruption, hatred, gross moral misconduct - and I wonder sometimes if, during the short time we have been here, we have accomplished anything that will have long lasting significance.

Near the end of her book, as she is preparing to leave for Denmark, Blixen goes for a walk on the farm. She is looking for a sign, something that will help her to understand what has been the meaning of her life in the country. She meets a rooster from the farm out on its own morning stroll. It in turn comes face to face with a chameleon, also out for a morning walk. Since roosters eat chameleons, there is a confrontation between the two.

…(the cock) gave out a cluck of satisfaction. The chameleon stopped dead at the sight of the cock. He was frightened, but he was at the same time very brave, he planted his feet on the ground, opened his mouth as wide as he possibly could, and to scare his enemy, in a flash he shot out his club-shaped tongue at the cock. The cock stood for a second as if taken aback, then swiftly and determinately he struck down his beak like a hammer and plucked out the chameleon’s tongue.

At that, Blixen chased off the cock and killed the chameleon, since it could no longer catch food to eat and so would have slowly starved to death. She was glad to have saved the chameleon from a slow, painful death but the encounter frightened her and reminded her of the dangerous world she had lived in.

Later, on reflection about the incident, she found in the encounter, the sign she was looking for. Although in the end they were too much for her, she had battled the powers. That was all, but that was enough.

The cock and the chameleon were for me an illustration of what still happens in Kenya. The weak are eaten up by the strong. Perhaps it is that way in all the world but in our civilized country we don’t see it as starkly. What is the answer for this country? Have we made a difference in such a place as this? There is no answer for me, except perhaps this: that we too have battled the powers as best we were able during our short time here.

Decisions, decisions

I'm sorry this has taken so long. It is so frustrating not being able to use the internet at home other than for the simplest things. As a result if I want to add to the blog I have to write something, put it on a disc and take it to the internet cafe. The last two visits I couldn't transfer from the disc to the blog. I hope any that were watching have not given up.

So what have we been spending money on?

First, immediately at the start of school we noticed a shortage of English textbooks in each class that I taught. The students were sharing one text among 3 or more, which made reading in class awkward and doing the Exercises difficult. Fast readers waited for slow readers and there was a lot of craning of necks. Assigning homework was near impossible. And so our first act was to buy additional texts and supplementary books so that pairs of students had books between them. Also we bought storybooks for the Grade 8’s, since I believe that reading for pleasure is essential to help students learn new vocabulary, see grammar used properly and to enjoy the beauty of good English. And more recently we bought more storybooks. They are becoming quite popular among Grade 6, 7 and 8 students.

Other spending on projects has been more difficult, for two reasons. First, almost any technology would not be useful past the first breakdown.The school runs on a shoestring and there is no money for maintenance, or for such things as the internet. Secondly, I am still debating whether this school is progressive enough such that it makes sense to make capital investments in it. For instance we have considered contributing to an addition to the school which might house some computers and a library. I need to give this more thought but my thinking at this time that is that the management of the school would not know how to use the area well, to make it a step towards creating a place of excellence. After a couple of years it would just become another dirty school room and I think that would be a waste of money.

So, what have we decided? Well, when we first came to Kenya some 4 years ago our desire was to invest in people. I chose to teach at Scott Theological College because I felt that helping to train church leaders was a way to change the society. In fact, when we left Scott we decided that we would not return there (although we hadn’t been asked), because we did not believe that the administration were concerned about this same goal, but were more interested in expanding their institution.

Our goal has not changed. We want to help people who may make a difference, who may someday impact their world. In that regard, although they are still very young, we have been impressed with 2 Grade 8 girls. They are both serious students, compete with 2 boys for top marks in class and have goals that they could achieve if they can attend good schools. Both come from poorer families and need help with school fees. And so we have arranged to help with fees for these girls. (The boys, by the way, have parents who can afford fees.)
I'll write more about them at a later time.

Loving mercy and justice

When Judy and I were first entrusted by people with donations for the worthy causes we might find in Kenya, we felt a heavy responsibility to use that money wisely. We didn’t however think that it would be difficult to find projects. Certainly the need is everywhere. We are asked for money by locals at least once a week. We almost always say no. We’re sympathetic to those in need, by and large we think Kenyans bear the main responsibility to find solutions to address their own needs. A case in point perhaps occurred during the violence following the election rigging. There were, during the violence, many calls for donations for affected people. We didn’t donate. This was a matter for Kenyans to address. We felt that if right thinking people from all the tribes, (especially those who were Kikuyus and who wanted and benefited from Kibaki’s re-election) had marched in protest and demanded he step down because they too, his constituents, would not stand for the theft of democracy, then Kenya would have made huge strides towards good, honest, government. Instead, Kikuyus (the majority of whom are churchgoers), prayed for peace, talked about peace, but went about their business and did nothing to show their disgust with their leaders. This was a time to stand against corrupt government, yet the Kikuyus I talked to seemed unable to understand that by their inaction had helped create the climate for violence and perpetuated poor and dishonest leadership. They did not seem to understand that they were the ones responsible for change.

As well, we have felt that our place at this time is to help the school where I work, acquire where possible, the resources it needs to be effective in teaching its students. This has, surprisingly, proven more difficult than we expected. I’ll write about this in just a few days.

getting around

There are, relatively speaking few cars in Kenya. Ordinary folks cannot easily afford a car (and not surprisingly privately owned vehicles have often seen better days). For most Kenyans, and for us “ordinary folks”, the “matatu” is the travel mainstay.

Matatus are VW-type mini-buses fitted with seats so that 14 passengers can sit four-across. They are old and most often in bad repair. The majority have a stereo system of sorts and occasionally the sound is good enough so that the lyrics can be understood - black African rap - both the lyrics and the decibel levels capable of harming the human ear.

Inside the matatu is decorated is upholstered in mactac and or garish vinyl, sometimes sporting mini pom-poms around the borders, with stickers pasted here and there extolling a favorite English football (soccer) team, starlet/singer or Jesus. The exteriors are mostly white in color, badly in need of bodywork and often displaying inspiring names painted on the back and/or sides – The Killer Machine, The Rasta Masta, Heaven Bound, Meet my Grill. I daresay in mny cases the slogan-work is more expensive than the vehicles itself . Most quote John 3:16 or some biblical message somewhere.

Until legislation was enacted about 4 years ago, to limit the number of passengers theycould carry and to require regulators to limit their speed on treacherous Kenyan roads, matatus helped Kenya lead the world in traffic fatalities.

It is I think impossible to describe the riding experience so as to do it justice. There are hundreds, perhaps thousands on the roads. On a Saturday morning ride to Nairobi they are like thick as flies on Thika Road, outnumbering cars at least 10:1. They are marked with numbers corresponding to their route. They drive their route as if they alone belong on the road. There are unsigned but pre-ordained stops, although they will stop virtually anywhere to pick up a passenger. They race from stop to stop, believing apparently that the first one to reach the next stop will pick up the most passengers and at days-end have made the most circuits of the route, and therefore the most money. It is usual to have 3 or 4 competitors drive to a stopping place on the highway. They honk their horns as they arrive, pull diagonally in front of one another, without a care for blocking the road at that point. The “tout” then jumps out of the sliding door on the side, shouting out their destination, perhaps holding up the number of the route on a small card, and attempts to persuade people at the stop to ride their vehicle. (Today we were near a stop, attempting to cross the road. We had no desire to ride anywhere at the time yet two different touts tried to guide us onto their vehicles, while we protested that we were just crossing the road.) Often passengers will board with a purchase – a bedframe or a large metal car part, for instance. When all available passengers have been boarded the driver honks, starts away, cuts in front of whatever other driver might already be on the road and the tout jumps on. The driver then drives hell-bent for the next stop. To get there he will drive on the left, right or middle of the road, on the right or left shoulder or in either ditch. Nothing is to stand in his or her way of attempting to be first to the next stop. We are sometimes incredulous of the games of chicken they play as they all try to be first to enter an opening into a line of traffic or at an intersection.

I don’t recall seeing other whites on them, and some Kenyans seem astonished as to why we rich “wazungu” are boarding them. The children and (often) the adults stare unbelievingly, but we are generally treated respectfully and honestly.

And there are good reasons for using them. First, they are so numerous that we never wait more than a few minutes for a ride. Next, (and most important) they are amazingly cheap. The 30-minute ride to Nairobi is 30 shillings each – about 50 cents! Finally, they are an unforgettable part of this Kenyan cultural experience.

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As Judy has said in a recent e-mail our days have become somewhat routine. In fact there are times while walking in the late afternoon when I think how simple life is and I wonder why that is so hard to take. We like our entertainment and distractions.

The picture is of the school grounds, a relatively small graveled area, with the owner’s home at one end, bathrooms and classrooms to the left and more classrooms to the right. The area is a madhouse at break-time with children running, playing and fighting. It is a wonder that there are no injuries.

My Grade 6, 7 and 8 students are each challenging, each in different ways. Grades 7 and 8 have a number of boys from Stars. They are enjoyable but challenging. The Grade 7’s love games and contests. They are often among the best students, but if I have not thought of a game or contest to teach an English item they might also simply put their heads down and sleep. I try not to get too annoyed since I wonder if they are getting enough sleep at their home.

There are many small things in the classrooms that remind you that education here is different. There are of course, the school uniforms. While they supposedly promote equality among students, some are so full of holes and so dirty that it is quite obvious the student is from a poorer family. Students carry razor blades to sharpen their pencils, whittling the end to a point. Each room has a small plastic jug (about a gallon) filled with drinking water. There is one cup in the classroom, used by all the students in the class. (This too promotes equality - if one student gets sick, presumably all do, although this has yet to happen.) The classrooms have small windows and are very poorly lit. The lack of light for schoolwork bothered me at first, but the students take it for granted and I have gotten used to it. Finally, the rooms are roofed with sheet metal and when it rains the water pelts straight down, thundering off the metal roof to the point that you cannot make yourself heard. You stop and wait, since the rain never seems to last that long.

Enforcing rules can be a problem. Most Kenyan teachers don’t use games, stickers and the like to encourage the students and without these there are no privileges that can be withdrawn as punishment. Students arrive at 7am or earlier and work and talk and stay until about 6:30 when it is near to getting dark, so they can hardly be kept after school! I try to negotiate, be friendly and positive, but recently learned that the old ways still are quite effective.

Unlike the other teachers, I haven't been checking each student’s homework individually and daily, but rather allowed the students to correct their own work together as we discussed the questions together in class. Early this week however I asked the students for their work before class and to my surprise found that most of the students hadn’t done it. I told them how disappointed I was and that I would tell the home room teacher (expecting he would lecture them). Finally I assigned an essay “Why I should do my homework”. I suggested they should include paragraphs that said homework was a way to help them learn, that doing it showed respect for the teacher and that it helped them develop good work habits. I didn’t give the matter much more thought other than deciding to be more vigilant checking the work before class. The next day I read the student’s short essays on doing homework. Most followed my outline. All were sorry and it seemed that I had made my point about doing the assigned work. Then I read the last essay. It began like this:
“One day our teacher Mr. Milner gave us some homework to write. Mr. Milner went and told our class teacher. When the (home room) teacher heard that he (wrote) down names on a little paper. He came in our class and asked us why haven’t you not done the homework. We were afraid to hear that. He told us to kneel down on the floor. We gave him our hands and he beat on us two good sticks. From today I told myself that I won’t refuse to do any homework.”
I felt pretty bad – it reminded me of the many strappings I received as a student. I hated the idea that I had caused them to be hurt, but I must admit that it seems to have gotten results!

Life's Little pleasures

About two weeks ago we travelled to Nairobi (about 25 minutes if you go by car) and went to a North American style shopping centre. It was nice to be back in civilization for a little while. While there we found a music store and bought a DVD for $10.00; Live in Philly by Phil Keaggy. His music has a 1960's feel, and he's a very good solo guitarist. I'd remembered seeing this great version of a song called Salvation Army Band on YouTube. If you enjoy great guitar work, then you'll like this I think. We sure did. It was one of life's little pleasures here in Nairobi.

I know there is some way to add a video to the blog which I can't figure out here at the internet cafe, but if you click on this URL it will take you to YouTube and you can enjoy a great song and performance. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nV3bLZLpqTQ

Another Morning Stars visit

This past weekend we again visited the Morning Stars children’s home and had another good time. We arrived at lunchtime – a big mistake. Many Kenyans eat their meal with the fingers/hand. That day lunch happened to be kusimo(?) (a favorite Kikuyu dish made of corn meal, potatos, a local green spinach-like vegetable, and other bits of vegetable – all mashed together) - topped with a sort of “bean medley” and avocado pieces on the side. All nice and squishy. As a result when we got out of the car 50 children were waiting to shake our hand, with their dirty “bean medley/avocado” hands - an interesting slithery sensation!

Actually we are now in the hugging stages with some of the older kids. Kenyan friends also greet one another European style with a touching of cheeks on both sides. It’s nice to be seen as their friends.

Next we ate some kusimo - not about to become a favorite. Then we told the kids some stories we had brought (having honed our skills at story telling during our time in Campbell River). It was a good time. I did a couple of finger rhymes, a felt story and then a great story called “Going on a Bear Hunt (with Judy leading the actions). Judy then read a Bible story. Some of the kids were a little old we thought for the stories, but they all joined in and we had fun. No one had ever told them stories before.

Then they sang, we played some games on the grass and they danced for us. Singing and dancing are of course, their favorite pastimes.

We ended the afternoon by going to fetch water with some of the girls. I carried a bucket of water up the hill “Kenyan style”, using a scarf tied around the forehead and then to the bucket which hangs on the back.. (One of the girls slung the scarf and bucket over her shoulder. The other balanced it on her head.) I learned just how hard this work is for young kids.

Philip then drove us home. It’s been a hard couple of weeks for him. We weren’t aware of his financial problems but apparently he wasn’t able to afford gas for his car last wek and food is running low. The problem is that he gets most of his food by way of donations from stores, businesses and churches in Kenya. With the political crises here however these donors are giving what they have to the Red Cross for the displaced people – leaving Philip in a tough situation. I don’t want these posts to become ongoing appeals for money, but if anyone would like to help Philip, please let us know. We helped him a bit, but he (and his kids will need more to get through February).