Market Day :)

Piles of colourful school uniforms, rechargeable torches, second hand clothes from overseas, coils of rope and mountains of mismatched shoes are spread on dirty tarps across the dusty ground. Upon close inspection it can be seen that most 'stalls' have someone perched atop or amidst one of their mounds of goods- or else they will be seated nearby and soon be at the elbow of any prospective customers. The usual mountains of cabbages and tomatoes are also present, as well as the obligatory English Premier League jerseys which are sold just about everywhere.

The sound of bawling cattle is drowned out by a loud crackling speaker through which a storeholder is announcing again and again in Swahili the prices of his goods- that is until he notices the muzungus approaching... he quickly stops the repetitive dribble and perks up, I pick out a few Swahili words from his excited spill 'welcome... here... muzungu... buy..' The shout-out over the loudspeaker alerts many other store-holders to our presence and we are requested and welcomed by every seller in the immediate vicinity. Yes, it is market day in Kamukuywa!

The market system in this region works on a rotational basis with sellers going to a different village each day of the week with their goods to sell. For us, it is Tuesday that we have the influx into our market area. If you can be bothered to search through it can actually be a good place for 2nd hand bargains as most of the clothing is imported/donated from charities in the West and is of reasonable quality. However, it can be a bit of a headache as muzungus = money and therefore we get constantly pestered and overcharged. It is advisable to go with a local and get them to negotiate prices- otherwise face the flack from the students when returning to school. 'Madam, how much did that cost?... EH! that is muzungu price, very expensive! Next time you must take me with you!'.

Personal Health- Madam Jiggers!

Seeing so many people with complicated and terrible health conditions I have realised how blessed I am to be healthy, fit and strong. However, the first seven months of this year hasn't been without its little health hiccups, early in the year a case of malaria saw me confined to my bed for almost a week, and shortly after a chest infection caused me to leave many of my classes mid coughing fit, however most of the time I have found my bouts of 'sickness' to be more humorous than upsetting.

I had been treating Brian and Julie for a number of days before I ventured to their house. The first time I went there I was in a hurry and foolishly didn't change into covered shoes. Imagine my shock the next day when I notice an itchy swelling on the base of my foot, further exploration resulting in the finding of no less than nine jiggers that have made their home in my feet and under my toenails. Early detection meant I could simply cut them (and their eggs) out rather than needing to soak repeatedly, however, cutting burrowed-in fleas from under ones toenails is definitely not the most pleasant experience. Jiggers have a bit of a stigma in society as it is generally only the poorest and dirtiest that are affected. My students thought my condition and bandaged feet were a great lark and a number took to calling me 'madam jiggers!'.

After a hectic busy day in which I had arrived at school early and then taught nine lessons straight after each other I found I had a thumping headache, I could tell a migraine was coming on as I was dizzy and my vision was starting to cloud.  A couple of girls came to me as I was leaving school and asked me what was wrong. I explained I had a headache and everything looked black, 'but madam!' one of them replied 'we are always black!'.

Meeting Esther!

We are standing outside a small run down primary school in a town called Chwele, approximately 20 km from the Academy. It is a Sunday in mid-June and most of the students are on half term break yet there are still over 50 children all flocking around me, I scan their faces, searching for the one I recognise, but amidst the many excited greetings, movement and confusion I can't tell. Stepping back from the crowd I climb onto a nearby step and hold up the photo I have with me asking, 'Esther, ico wapi? (where is Esther?). A shaven headed girl in her simple primary school dress is shyly pushed to the front and I instantly recognise her face... 'Esther! Woohoo I found you! I am your sponsor!"

I first heard about Agape in Action at a Wednesday night bible class special presentation. I don’t remember who the presenters were or what their particular message was. I just remember going away from the talk and thinking ‘I want to sponsor a child'.  Considering I was a high school student with minimal income from a newspaper round I knew this really wasn’t something feasible for the near future. However, this was something I knew I wanted to do and I knew would eventually happen if I set my mind to it. I knew my dream of sponsoring a child would happen one day; I just had no idea how far that dream would actually take me.

It was a few years later while in my second semester at university that I noticed an advertisement on the university jobs board as a soccer coach for Seymour College –a prestigious girls day and boarding school in the Eastern Suburbs. Until this stage I had been working part time nannying and casual office assistant work with my sister. Working as a sports coach was something that was on my list of ‘101 things to do as a teenager’  and I felt this was the perfect opportunity. Carefully articulating my application letter I hit send on my email and made a promise to myself- ‘if I get this job I will sponsor a child!’.

Two weeks later heading out the door to visit my cousins I had an unfamiliar number appear on my phone, a cheery voice introduced herself as PE coordinator at Seymour and said if I was still keen they would like me to start the next week! My prayers were answered and I jumped into the car with my brother quizzing him the entire way about what his coach did at soccer trainings since I had never actually played competitively myself or seen a single training in my life!

Not having the internet at home I headed to the local library and excitedly filled out the online form, confirmation arrived shortly after

Child ID: 800. Name: Esther Makhomi. Likes: Beans and Rice, Netball. Father says “I am unable to provide for my family”

I had finally achieved one of my goals, I was sponsoring a child! To be sure that I was able to continue this always I opened a new bank account and deposited my entire first terms coaching payment into it- if I was ever to run short on money or loose my income I had enough there to continue payments for a year while I found more work. 

Little did I imagine four years ago that beginning this sponsorship would eventually lead to me actually living here and working as teacher to many sponsored high school students! 

...Esther seems very surprised at my appearance but with some prompting from her teachers she overcomes her shyness and gives me a guided tour of her little school. The students perform songs and poems in honour of the visit and I am invited by the school director to give a speech to the students, I notice Esther's face light up when I mention her by name, thanking the staff and administration for the work they do providing a safe haven at this primary school. The many students gawp at me in awe and then excitedly wave us off as we say our farewells and drive away...

Tabby vs mosquito

Nnnnnnnnghhh ngggghhhh the sound starts up again, the multiple frequencies indicating tonights invasion is large in number; this time when it starts I have had enough. I jump out of bed wielding my ipod torch and wildly brandishing a coat hanger. I feel ready to take on a lion and I kinda wish I was in a way, as at least it would be a lot easier to spot than tiny evasive mosquitos!

Although my room is relatively small with two cupboards, bunk bed and single bed taking up most of the space, come night time it seems to have room to house thousands of blood sucking menaces (ok I may be slightly exaggerating), which delight in hiding themselves in every nook and cranny.

This particular night has been especially bad. I have been awake for 3 1/2 hours listening to the constant barrage of ngggghhhh. Despite having a full length pyrethrum treated net the mozzies still find their way inside.

I have already spent a good proportion of my night swiping fruitlessly at the little beasts, it seems like they relish in flying close enough for me to bother attempting and then dancing out of reach just at the right time. I am almost beside myself... taking a deep breath I light a mozzie coil, spray some repellent and set out to kill any that are still in my room. My eyes are fixated on the tiny buzzing monster circling the light fitting as I leap from my bed to the bunk and back to the cupboard. I forget that I have just placed a lit coil on my cupboard but am brought sharply back to reality by the stabbing pain as my foot lands squarely on it. Cursing under my breath I jump back to my bed, my foot gets caught in my oh so helpful 'mosquito net' and I lose my balance toppling onto the floor and dragging my net down with me.

I am a sorry sight; tangled, burnt and frustrated but not yet ready to give up, I have squashed, sprayed and flattened 12 mosquitos so far tonight but I can still hear more...

I leap to my feet and snatching at the air I manage to catch one in my fist, slamming my open hand onto my leg I note with vicious satisfaction the squashed vermin now decorating my track pants. Justice at last.

I crawl back into my bed, it is now 12:25 and I am thoroughly exhausted. I finally settle and am just drifting off when I hear the nnnnggghhh start up again... It's too much! I ensure every possible part of my body is under my sheet to prevent bites and force myself to go to sleep.. Tonight it was definitely a win to the mosquitos... Just you wait until tomorrow though!

Brian and Julie

I noticed Brian on my first Sunday here in Kamukuywa. 

Dressed in an oversized t-shirt, some girls leggings and bare feet, he was wandering around the hall during the service and eventually sat up the front next to the translator who gave him some lollies. I was interested in who he was as he only looked about two years old and yet he seemed very independent and I couldn't see a mother anywhere.

Brian and Julie receiving treatment

Over the following weeks and months I found out that his mother Julie is disabled, she struggles to communicate and perform basic tasks, she was raped and therefore there is no father to assist with care. 

I didn't find out much more about the couple until a few months ago when one Sunday I picked up the lad and held him on my lap during the service. I noticed his feet looked very bad- infected with jiggers.
Jiggers are a flea kinda thing that enter the feet and lay their eggs inside which hatch and they effectively eat out your feet from the inside and can be very painful and extremely itchy. Once I saw them I immediately wanted to treat his feet and managed to convince both child and mother to come to the school so I could soak them in chemicals to kill the jiggers and then allow them to recover. One glance made me see his mothers feet were much worse than his and I soon realised this was going to be a longer process than I initially realised. Their feet were so badly infected they looked like a mess of black infections and neither of them could walk properly.

Drying Julie's feet after soaking.

Over the course of a month I have been treating and bandaging their hands and feet and getting to know these lovely people. I immediately began picking the brains of my nurse sister, travel doctor and other medical friends as well as the locals. Apparently the best treatment is to kill the jiggers by soaking in chemicals and then allow the body to exude the dead flea. Keeping the feet and hands clean and wearing shoes is also the best way to prevent reinfection. 

Brian enjoying splashing around.

This was easy enough as fortunately I didn't have any lessons scheduled for first up in the morning so I was able to spend the first hour of each day treating their feet and hands.

I was repeatedly told by the locals that jiggers thrive in dry dusty environments and in order to really eradicate the jiggers the mud hut they lived in needed to be 'smeared' with cow dung. 
I decided that 'when in Rome, act like the Romans' and perhaps I should just bite the bullet and take the advice of the locals. One of my students, Elizabeth, was super optimistic and helpful, explaining that her grandma had taught her how to 'smear down very well!' and she would be able to teach me no problems.
Taking gloves and some buckets we set off in search of some dung, dirt and water- the three magic ingredients. Mixing the three together we created a sloppy paste which we then literally 'smeared' all over the floor of the house. Children from all around the neighbourhood came peering in the door and windows, shocked to see a muzungu 'smearing down!'. Although it took a little bit of getting used to, by the time we finished the hut Elizabeth said I was able to do it as well as her! 

After quite a few weeks of treatment we have seen some great improvements. One particular moment sticks in my mind, after their first treatment when they both had their feet soaked, cleaned, bandaged and now in shoes and Julie stood up to walk out- to our shock she could actually walk out of the school compound with relatively little difficulty. Her slow unsteady gait which we had attributed to her disability had actually been partly caused by the pain and discomfort of her feet. 

Julie is an incredible person! Although experiencing greater hardship than anyone else I have met she always manages to find a smile, despite the fact I struggle to understand her communication she always keeps trying until the message gets across. 
Often Brian would become difficult and refuse treatment, in these cases I put on music and danced around the room to get Brian to cooperate and she would burst into loud whoops of laughter, causing him to also see the funny side. 
When giving them some bread to eat as a distraction from the treatment she would always share her piece with Brian. 
The attachment between these two is so strong, despite the hardship, disability, pain and poverty the love between a mother and her child shines bright. 

One of Brian's feet before and after treatment :)

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!