Running in Kenya

It is still dark, as it is not yet 6 am and the sun is only just beginning to rise. The only sound is the pounding of our shoes on the dirt road, as we pass mud huts nestled amongst fields of maize. Despite the still crispness in the air I am already sweaty and puffing, we have been running for about 15 minutes and are approaching the marketplace. Bright red in the face and exhausted I look at the student next to me- he looks fresh as a daisy and like he is going for a stroll, not a bead of sweat and

The very green lane-ways which we run along

not even puffing. I feel mildly bad that he isn't even getting a workout and is doing so for my benefit whilst his friends are miles ahead. I try to push a little harder and he notices and instantly picks up the pace, backpeddling sheepishly when he realises I'm not actually able to maintain it...

Running is probably what Kenyans are most famous for and knowing there was a budding group of keen runners at the school was something I was keen to get involved with.  I have tried to run with the kids as frequently as I can- which is unfortunately not all that often. Mostly I run with a girl called Stella- not because she is a particularly outstanding runner but moreso because she has shoes. I asked a bunch of girls if they wanted to come for a run with me but they only had school shoes and thongs and didn't want to go for a long run in either...

When running in Kenya, you never run alone. Always my students will keep pace with me and run at whatever speed I can maintain. Occasionally the boys will all speed off into the distance but not without first selecting one to run slowly with the muzungu. People appear from their houses and shops and cheer you on like you are running a marathon. Ladies with their shopping and buckets on their heads will jog along next to you giggling and cheering.

At Chesamis with some of the students 

This particular morning is slightly out of the ordinary as we are running a much longer distance. Chesamis is  the name of our destination- 11 km each way with a large steep incline leading to a lookout where we can rest before the return journey. When we approach this incline I tell the student with me that he can run ahead if he likes, he rockets into the distance, my backpack full of water and snacks bouncing on his back as he runs - of course he hadn't let me carry it despite my protests.  I look up at the destination and can see ten or so lads waving from the rocks, listening carefully I can hear their encouraging cries waft down the valley. Knowing they are all watching and cheering spurs me on and I manage to increase to a faster jog up the final few hundred metres. I am met with a standing ovation, ruckus applause and many cries of 'visuri sana madam!' (well done, madam!).

Although I don't do it as often as I like, I never regret going out for a run. The students are so keen, the exercise is beneficial and the feeling of being alive and free that you get when running is like no other.

Diary of a Day!

I often say that life here is busy, however when people ask what I actually do it can be hard to remember everything...  Every day is different so I just decided to choose a day at random and keep track of the happenings..

Monday 9th June, 2014 

My alarm rings at 6:15 am, I hit snooze and have a few more delicious minutes of sleep. When I wake up the second time I can hear the cook chopping wood outside our door- he arrives well before 5 to get the fires going and make the tea. Bearing this in mind I get out of bed. I make a quick instant coffee and check my emails, the time difference usually means I have more contact in the mornings, but all I have today is another travel warning from the Aus government about dangers in Kenya....

I grab some socks a bucket and the kettle and head out the door to school- when I step outside the door I am effectively 'at school'. As soon as I unlock the library five students appear. A couple of boys with sports injuries from yesterday, a couple of library books returned and a few requests for sticky tape and glue (most kids can't afford their own basic stationary and often borrow from me).
I set up my 'first aid' area, as I have a mother and son with nasty hand and feet conditions that I am treating from the local community who have been visiting every morning. I boil the kettle for warm water and get their bandages and socks out and ready as I do this a few more kids trickle in with various requests.

The bell rings for assembly, I greet the other teachers who have arrived and pass a library announcement to the teacher on duty and then have to leave as I see my patients arrive. It takes me almost an hour to soak, dry and dress their hands and feet. After they leave I quickly sit down to do a little bit of lesson planning, I am interrupted by a student who tells me he thinks he has malaria - a common ailment! I take his temperature and do a malaria test on him, it shows up negative but I give him some pain killers and tell him to come and see me tomorrow.

My form 2 CRE class

Time to do some teaching, Monday is one of my easier days as I only have four lessons + bible studies. I teach a couple of CRE lessons, English and Lifeskills. For bible studies I have two classes combined (over 90 students) they are super lively today and we have some great singing!

In between my lessons one of my students comes to me clearly distressed, she tells me that she has just found out her best friend was killed in a tragic accident in Nairobi, we chat for a little while and then arrange for her to go back to the dorm and be exempt from classes for the remainder of the day. Despite the tragedy she has a very mature outlook saying she knows it must happen to each of us someday but confused as to why it happened at such a young age. Death is so much more of a reality here.

Library time after school

Over the course of the day I have 24 'first aid' cases- a new daily record! These range from jiggers and malaria to papercuts and sore throats, some students are wary to come for first aid and will often come with a friend for support, I try to encourage them to come as soon as they notice something wrong because so often something like a small cut can get infected and bad because of being left for too long.

The final bell rings at 4:05 and instantly I have over 50 students in the library, on computers and reading newspapers and books. I try to do some of my teaching planning and marking but I am constantly busy assisting students. I stay until 6:00 pm and then kick all remaining students out and pop home for dinner.

I am presider for night time bible study so after dinner I race back out and get it going, after this 30 min session I have a couple of kids with cuts and stomach aches. We have baptism study class at our house so I round up some of the more forgetful kids who like to attend (it is a non-compulsory group) and head back to the house. Greg leads the session while I sneakily send some
emails on my ipod. The students leave and I wash some socks for tomorrow, have a cup of tea and head off to bed for an early night. Tuesday is my 'busiest' teaching day so want to be well rested for tomorrow!

The library can be a busy place! 

Checking for mail

The official documentation for teaching certification and residency is proving to be quite a difficult process. Considering it took 2 ½ months to simply obtain the form I got it filled out and emailed back as quickly as possible. However, after a few weeks I heard from my logistics guy saying it had been rejected by the ministry of education as they only accepted original handwritten copies- not scanned and emailed.

He arranged to have the form couriered to me and said the courier would ring when it arrived. 2 weeks passed with no phone call and every time I tried to call the courier it didn’t connect.

I decided to just got to the deppo and ask them in person if it was there.  Easier said than done.

A friend who lives at the school agreed to accompany me to the nearby town and so we walked a couple of kilometres to the market to get some transport. Matatus are the most common form of public transport in Kenya, small white vans, licensed to carry 14 people and seemingly unbound by any road rules.

Every time I have travelled in one it has been quite an experience and this was no different! Initially I was offered the front seat- muzungu privileges- but I opted to sit in the back with my friend. Upon realising he had a muzungu aboard the driver was keen to get going as soon as possible, however  they never take off until completely maxed out. This means every seat taken, small pieces of wood placed between the seats across the ‘aisle’ to fit more people, a few standing up and crouching over the rest of us and a couple hanging out the door. We don’t get going until over 20 people are crammed in. I am surprised to have my whole seat to myself until a large purple satin clad mumma clambers in and sits ontop of me. I try not to feel too claustrophobic and crane my neck to see around her and out the windscreen to see what the holdup is. The road we are loading up on is under construction and not to be driven on. The construction manager in a large ute is heading straight for us and our driver seems not to notice, he glances up and immediately fangs it in reverse- hitting a guy off his motorbike. This causes a bit of a ruckus with much yelling and gestures, another guy appears and ousts the driver, climbing into the seat and taking over. The driver runs around to the other side of the van and hangs out the door.

After 30 minutes of fluffing about finally we are off, weaving our way at relatively high speed through the market. We go over a particularly large bump and the two guys hanging out the door fall off.  An opportunist sitting by the door takes it upon himself to slam it shut and we leave our former driver in a cloud of dust. I am mildly interested as to who actually owns the vehicle and why it is appropriate to kick out the driver but everyone else seems unperturbed.

About 5 minutes into our journey a loud bang causes the van to stop. We have burst a tyre. Considering the rough roads and the state of the car I am not surprised! The driver gets out and locates the spare tyre- which happens to be also burst. He flags down an oncoming matatu which bears the same company name- it pulls over but upon hearing what we want they aren't interested in helping and speed off again amidst loud cursing in Swahili from our driver who is unimpressed at the lack of camaraderie. Eventually a matatu from another company pulls over and gives us one of their tyres, but it is taking a long time so my friend flags down another matatu and we squeeze in the new one- once again over 20 people on board.

One of the guys standing up and crouched double across us starts clicking his fingers for money, I’m not sure exactly how it works as it seems that only some people pay and they seem to pay different amounts. After about 20 minutes my friend tells me to pay 140 shillings for our fare (about $1.60 for the two of us).  

We appear to stop at random places for various reasons, at once stage the cops pull us over and the money man has a quick conversation. I suspect ‘something small’ changed hands as any more than 14 passengers is a punishable offence and yet we take off after only a few seconds.

It takes around 40 minutes to get to town and we find the courier office in a matter of minutes. I tell her my name and ask for my letter, she has a look through some boxes and tells me sorry its not there. I glance at my friend in alarm and then ask her to look again. She starts leafing through a mountain of paperwork asking when it was sent. I produce all  the details I have and upon seeing the receipt number she quickly locates the letter.

The journey home is much the same as the trip there, a particularly memorable moment when the driver goes over a bump rather quickly and the man next to me becomes irate yelling ‘you are driving silly, you nincompoop!’ then sneaking a self-satisfied glance at me, as if hoping I would be impressed with his English. I struggled to hold in my laughter and turned to look out the window.

Checking the letterbox at home has always been one of life's little pleasures and I guess even though it took over 3 hours here it was overall an enjoyable experience!  

Water is life!

Rain and water isn't something I really thought about much before while living in Australia. Water comes from a tap. It rains in winter. Thats basically it. Sometimes in winter the rain may require quickly grabbing the washing in and drying it by the heater. It is a mild annoyance if having to dash from the shopping centre to the car. 

Rain in Kenya is something else. When it really rains then everything stops. Most times the power goes out. The marketstalls throw tarps over their goods and everyone rushes for shelter.

For the locals it is very loud on tin roofs and you can't hear very well so you just huddle together and wait for it to stop. I have sat huddled in a mud hut for over half an hour. No light and over 30 people squashed in together. No one talking because it is simply too loud to hear each other, all just waiting for it to stop.

Yet despite this, here in Kenya rain is so much more of a necessity. Farmers plant their crops and then wait for the rain. If it doesn't rain then they won't be able to eat. And when I say 'farmers' that means just about everyone. 

Girls with their empty buckets when we ran out of water.

At the school here we have a bore and several wells. However the large number of students living here often results in the bore running dry- and the well water is not clean enough to drink. Several times I have told my classes they need to have a drink of water because many of the students were slumped on their desks exhausted. This was met by a cry of 'hakuna maji!' (there is no water!).

Kenyans are not used to drinking much water, many of my students ask me why I carry a drink bottle and drink so much. I have told many students the importance of staying well hydrated but it felt a little pointless and cruel telling them to drink more when not only is there no water but also many students don't have anything to keep water in- many only have one cup or bowl for their tea and lunch and therefore can only have a small amount at a time.

Thanks to some generous donations we were able to quickly resolve these problems and purchase a water tank to be specifically for drinking- if the bore goes dry then students will still have water to drink at least! 
A bulk purchase of waterbottles was made and each student given a bottle with their name on it- now students are able to have as much drinking water as they need.

Agape also sent funds for some longer term solutions- 4 massive rain water tanks to help through the dry season.

A huge thankyou to those who contributed to this cause- it is such a fundamental thing and makes such a difference for day to day life!  If you want to contribute further we would love to be able to get the kids durable long lasting drinkbottles rather than the disposable style ones we currently have. Send me an email (tabithaverity@gmail.com) if you have any funds or know any good suppliers we can get some donations from! 

What do Kenyan students do in the holidays?

It seems that many things about Kenyan life are quite different to that of Australia so I was pretty keen to find out what school holidays would be like for Kenyan students.

Do they hang out with their friends, watch movies, go to the beach and the shops? Well, I kinda knew they wouldn't do most of that stuff but was interested to see what they would do instead- I opted to stay at the school for the holiday period to get some work done and see how the 50 or so students living here all year round spent their time.

Construction work on the schools new kitchen began in the holidays and on the first day I noticed some of my older students amongst the workforce,  $3.10 for a full day of carrying heavy buckets of water, shovelling dirt and mixing concrete can make a real difference to school fees.

However, for those students who live here all year round they had other chores to take care of that came above paid work, for example emptying out the schools supplies of beans, mixing bug killer all through them and re-bagging. I decided to help the boys out for an arvo doing this much to their delight- I didn't realise how dirty a job it was, or how difficult. After filling a bag with beans they jokingly asked if I wanted to lift it. I thought I'd give it a go but was shocked that I could barely budge it! The boys explained that they were 90 kg bags- then casually hauled them onto each others shoulders and carried them back to the storeroom.

One morning I got up before seven and had a look around the school, most of the classrooms were empty yet I found a few that had students in them, they had gotten up early and set up their books to work on their study. Halfway through the holidays the students at the school started 'attending' lessons again and observing the school timetable through self-directed study, always keen to be improving their grades!

I was happy to see that holidays did also include some chillout time, for the girls this is mostly sitting around and doing each others hair and for the boys many games of football. 

As for those students who are boarders or day scholars, I found out on return to school that the majority had worked in their fields for most of the holidays. I learnt to begin my post-holiday lessons with 'how were the holidays- did you weed the maize?' to which the inevitable answer was 'fine- yes of course we did!!'.

Situma

One of the best things in Kenya is no doubt the variety of amazing different people I have met, during the recent school holidays I spent a lot of time with one such person.

Gregory Situma is a happy, cheeky, friendly and fun loving 11 year old boy that lives near the school. He was around almost every day in the holidays, skipping into the library where I was working with a happy smile, keen to help in whatever way he could. Considering his young age  I was super surprised at what a quick learner he was- he quickly picked up how to use my computer in only a few minutes and helped me re-catalogue all the library books, cleaned up the library with me, helped me in the garden- even came around and did my washing with me. 
Situma loves to dance and we often ended up doubled over in laughter at our dance off efforts when having a break from work. He is good at sports as well and picked up how to play Oztag and ultimate frisbee quicker than any of the other kids. He is a real gem of a child. 

Unfortunately, when Situma was a young boy he got sick. As a result of this sickness he is now completely deaf.

For people with disabilities, Kenya is a very unforgiving place. Situma is lucky enough to go to a boarding school for the hearing impaired and as a result knows sign language very well- however, most of his family and friends don't know how to communicate with him. Many people simple ignore him or don't make an effort, explaining by saying they 'don't know how to'. After spending so much time with Situma I got to know a little sign language and we also wrote a lot of notes to communicate. 

One day Situma told me his mother wanted to meet me, unbeknownst to me he then told his mother I wanted to meet her and thus I rocked up at their house with both me and his mother unsure as to exactly why I was there. 
Situma loved it, giggling away he introduced us in his own little way and sat me down in their little mud hut. Friends and extended family members started coming from everywhere to meet Situmas 'muzungu friend'. It was apparently a great honour for them to have me in their house and I was given two bottles of Fanta and shown through the family photo album. After chatting for a while in their broken English and my broken Swahili his family started asking me what vegetables I ate- they then proceeded to take me outside to their little farm and shower me with presents- 15 avocados, a whole bunch of bananas, half of their sweet potato crop and a 5 litre bucket of peanuts.
Here was this poverty stricken family with little more than the clothes on their backs and the food they were growing and yet they were all so keen to give. 
I knew they needed the food a lot more than I did and felt bad to accept it but I knew it would be much more offensive for me to refuse so I thanked them profusely and then went home and baked a cake with Situma to give as a thankyou gift- they had never eaten a chocolate cake before and were so excited and thankful.

Situma cannot hear a word I say and yet he knows me well, I have never heard a word from his mouth, and yet I have had some of my most hilarious and enjoyable times with him. 

This little boy and his family are so welcoming, friendly and generous despite their circumstances. Their attitude of positivity and willingness to give is something we can all learn from! 

Si Visuri

Si visuri is the Swahili phrase for 'not fair'. It is one that I use often, and I think about even more frequently. 

Its not fair that when it pours with rain I am safe and dry in my house, when the power goes out I can light a candle and still have light and yet my next door neighbours are huddled in darkness in their leaky mud hut.


Its not fair that those lucky enough to have a job get paid around $4 per day for backbreaking work in the sun and yet that is below a quarter of the minimum HOURLY wage in Australia.

Its not fair that I can afford to go to the nearby town and buy anything I want in the supermarket and yet many of my neighbours and friends cannot afford to even supplement their ugali with a 6 cent avocado.

Its not fair that if I am sick I can get medicine, if it came to it I could get flown out of here and to first class medical services and yet for so many people here, getting sick means they just have to continue life as per normal and just hope to get better...a lad I had never seen before approached me after the Sunday service and limped 1km to my house with me explaining he wasn't feeling well and couldn't afford to go to the clinic, his English wasn't the best and at first all I could understand was he had a headache, but then he explained it started with his leg. I asked to see and when he pulled up his pant leg I was shocked and disgusted and so sorry all at once- A stick had pierced his shin (a week prior) leaving a huge deep hole which was now infected, swollen and causing him to limp, he had no money and no way to get help. I was his last resort.

Its not fair that my education was free, it was seen as a right. I didn't actually even want to go to uni and it was only because my brother convinced me to that I went (and I am so glad I did!). Yet here many students cannot afford fees for high school. They are forced to drop out so they can work and get money, sometimes not finishing until in their 20s or else just not getting an education and being caught in the vicious cycle of poverty.

Its not fair that last week when I went out to night time bible studies I put a jacket on because it was cold, I sat next to Tom and Edwin, two lads I know well and Edwin asked me if he could have my jacket. Tom indignantly replied 'no madam, he has a father. His father could buy him a jacket'. There was something about the phrase 'he has a father'... Toms dad died a few years ago, his mother is very poor and can't afford to support the family adequately. Tom has no-one who can buy him things. 

Its not fair that when I am in town I see street kids sniffing glue to ward off hunger. Food is all around them sold on street corners everywhere but 7 cents for a banana is out of their reach. 

It is not fair that for me growing up, death is something that happens to old people in the distant future and yet when I saw one of my students looking down the other day and asked what was wrong he explained 'I am sad because I just found out my brother is dead'. Not knowing how or why but just hearing that his brother is no more. His mother has already died and his brother had been supporting him through high school. I found him many times that week sitting by himself staring vacantly into the distance. When I asked him if there was anything I could do he replied in a whisper 'no madam,I think I will be okay'.

Why is it that the top 10% of the world own over 86% of its wealth and the bottom 50% have less than 1%? 
Why was I born in a country where wealth and luxury is the norm? Where everyone has enough to eat and is supported by the government? and yet people my age here are struggling with death, sickness, with not having enough food?

I have come to realise that it is useless to resent this fact. Its easy to get bogged down in it all and just want to scream 'SI VISURI' at the top of my lungs. However that doesn't help anyone. 
Maybe one of the reasons we see so much poverty is to teach us something. It is true that one person cannot change the world, but you can change the world for one person. 
I find everything I see here rings so true with this famous quote"He that hath two coats, let him impart to him that hath none, and he that hath meat, let him do likewise" Luke 3:11.

Helping out the people here actually does change their lives. One life at a time. To sponsor a kid through high school is $10 per week. Thats less than most of our phone bills. Less than a coffee each day. Around half an hours pay. Is it really that difficult for us to help out? I see it as really simple. They need money. We have money. Why don't we share a bit?