Tom Sawyer, Bill Clinton, USNAVY, who’s next? During my stay here in
Kenya, I have been fortunate enough to meet Tom Sawyer and Bill
Clinton! Who would have thought they would both be in Kenya at the
same time as me??? People name their kids after famous people they
hear about. Apparently, they also name their kids after the first
visitor in their house (ME!) as well. Baby Maureen should be a good
one. As far as USNAVY, that was in Guatemala. There was a seaside town
where many ships would pass, among them, ships marked with US NAVY on
the side. Hence why there are now many children around that area now
named USNAVY. Creative.
If I was born in Kisumu, my name would be Maureen Anango Piercy, as I
was born in the late morning. They say it’s the “best” time of day to
be born. How fitting, considering I am the best ;)
What would your middle name be?
Akinyi(females)/Omondi (males)- early morning
Anyango(females)/Onyango(males)- late morning
Achieng(females)/Ochieng(males)-mid day
Adhiambo- eveningAtieno- night
Awour(females)/Owour(males)-one who sucks hard at their mother’s teet
Tabu-one who is born giving pain/trouble to their mother or if the mother gave birth while in jail
Flamingos, Baboons with pink butts and babies on their back, Rhinos,
Zebras, Grazing giraffes, and me fussing over a broken camera. Lesson
learned. Too dependent on my camera, it’s not the way I want to live. One
of the ladies who works for Ogra said it best, “it’s OK Maureen. Its
life. These things happen.” They may have been simple words, but they
were effective. Then I thought about where I was and who I was
surrounded by. Most of the people here have never even seen a photo of
themselves. And the lady who said that to me was orphaned at a young age and had to raise her younger brother in the slums. Sorta puts you back in your place..
Mosques. The only other ethnic group you see in Kisumu are the Indian’s. They are the rich one’s who drive nice-ish cars and own stores in town. You can hear them as well as African Muslims in the mosques chanting, praying, singing, etc. The mosques are the nicest buildings in Kisumu.
Oh and Malaria is everywhere. People just get it and deal with it. No
big deal. Out for a few weeks, but its OK. Sawasawa (means OK in Swahili). Hakuna Matata. I still make sure to take my pill each night. Although it’s a common thing, its not
really something I want to try. I’m all about the traditional
experience, trying new things, etc. but this is one thing I can see on
their faces that is not fun. They say they are OK but their faces tell
a different story. No thank you.
My phone was stolen right out of my bedroom. But its OK, I only needed
it for my alarm and the clock anyways. And emergencies.. My Mom said ‘someone probably needed it more than you did.’ She’s right. But the strange thing is how much importance they place on their phones. You can see little kids walking around the slums, looking for their next meal, with a flashy new cell phone. Grumbling bellies, no problem, as long as I have my cell phone. In Guatemala, it seemed similar except they placed more importance on their cars then their cell phones. Flashy cars, but dumps for houses. Interesting priorities.
And I knew the larvae would come.
The drain in my shower doesn’t work properly and sitting water=breading grounds for
mosquitos. Now it’s a nightly ritual to crush all the larvae I see in
water and flush them down the toilet. Fun times.
Matatu, Boda bodas, motorbikes, and tuk tuks. Kenyan forms of
transportation. My favorite are the Boda Bodas. Riding on the back of
a bicycle down the hustling/bustling streets is one of the best
things. Definitely the most exciting form of transportation and free
air conditioning. I had a 49 year old driver the other day who was
working all the youngens. Good guy.
Masai’s are all around town, with ear lobes hanging low, clubs in
hand, gords (traditionally used to store sour milk, mmmm), knives, and
draped in large sheets of bright colors. I even saw one this morning with a wooden carved bow and arrow!! So cool! The Masai tribe is generally
found in the Rift Valley region of Kenya, and are hunters and hurders,
but are hired in Kisumu mostly as security guards. They are quite
intimidating considering they all carry knives and clubs.. ha. But the
one’s that frequent the pool tables on the side of the road are hard
to take serious. A traditional Masai warrior with a pool stick in hand
is a funny clash of modern and traditional, one of my favorite sites
to pass each night on our way home from work. I am super intrigued by the presence of the Masai. So I decided to read the White Masai. I am halfway through and can already recommend it! I even know all of the Swahili words that are italicized in the book now. I am basically Kenyan.
Picking up our clothes at the tailor was like waiting for Santa to
come on Xmas eve. We picked out the cloth that we wanted from one of
the busiest stalls on the big Sunday market. People come all the way
from Uganda each Sunday to buy and sell their goods. We picked out our
favorite material, and brought it to a local tailor the next day. She
fitted us and told us to come back in a week. We were so excited all
week long, and couldn’t wait to see our new clothes! The tailor made a
day out of it, by making us some rice pilaf and salad to enjoy while
we tried on our new clothes. I must say, Africans sport their clothing
a lot better than Mizungus but they are still beautiful and I will
give it my best go.
Everyone welcomes us with food. Like I look like I need more food… For
example, the lady I met on the walk home, who invited me into her
house to make friends with her lonely daughter in law who’s son had
never been around a mzungu and stared at my face with wide eyes and
would put his dirty little finger up to my white skinned face every
couple of minutes in astonishment. She asked if I wanted food and when I politely declined she brought out bananas anyways. What’s funny is that I never thought I would GAIN weight in Africa. When I was in Spain right before I came here, my friends kept giving me endless amounts of food, as that is the Spanish way. But on top of that, they insisted I eat double the amount they would usually give to a visitor, as I probably wasn’t going to be eating much in Africa. WRONG WRONG, VERY WRONG.
My work: I’ve been blessed to visit many of Ogra’s programs, but I’ve
been teaching English and history at Oasis of Hope Secondary School that was
created for orphans and underprivileged children. In Kenya, even
though the government just made primary school “free” there are still
hidden fees such as books, uniforms, backpacks, food, etc. that many
parents (or relatives in most cases as the majority of the students
are orphans) cannot afford. Some girls do not have access to sanitary
pads so they end up missing a whole week of school each month. My new
friend Bex and I decided to bring them some, because we think every
girl should have access to those simple yet necessary items. Last week
in class, I gave a lecture on the Kenyan Bill of Rights…
I had to tell these children that part of their rights is to have
basic needs met, such as food, shelter, education, etc. Ironic. How am
I supposed to answer these kids when they ask me why they don’t have
access to these things, and have been brought up in slums, wondering
where they will get their next meal if they will get one at all. I am
sure they know why. The violence from last year’s elections told a
story. A story that says they are fed up with corruption and want a
chance. A chance to succeed. A chance to spread the wealth from the
government to the people. They all talk about Obama because he is from
Kenya, but they are all hoping one day to have a leader like Obama who
will help the people instead of their own selfish desires. High School
isn’t even free yet. One day..
I did see an organization set up for alcohol and drug addiction, and a
night shelter for street children (the one’s who sniff glue and lurk
around the streets waiting to pop out and rob people), but not much in
the way of helping poor adults. Ogra does run a medical center
offering free health care, for those who can make the trek out there.
Many are HIV/AIDS patients who are so weak that they cannot make the
trip. What’s nice is that my friends at Direct Relief are the one’s
sending most of the medical supplies including the ARV drugs, malaria
pills, mosquito nets, etc. that help these people tremendously. GO DRI!
The other day, while spending a bit of time in the medical center, we
walked in on a 2 week year old twin who had some limb deformities. The
doctor explained that the lady lived about 100m. away and decided not
to come in for regular check ups or pregnancy tips, and ended up
having a very sick child who will probably need some kind of surgery
in the near future, in which the lady definitely could not afford. All
because she decided not to make the short walk to the free medical
center. I was confused as to why she wouldn’t take advantage of these
services. The doctor explained that many of the women know about the
center, but are just ignorant or follow their cultural customs which
would be to hire a midwife and nothing else.
One of the old African beliefs was that if you had sex with a virgin, it would cure HIV….
I didn’t even know how to respond to that. And even worse is that the
custom still happens to this day. What faster way to contribute to the
spread of such a horrible disease? And the one’s who are most
affected? Babies. Innocent little babies.
I’m sorry if that is hard to hear, but it’s the truth. And the truth
should be heard, no matter how horrible it is. But how are we supposed
to help them if they keep holding onto these traditions? How is a
white mzungu from the USA or UK supposed to come in and tell these
people how to live, even though they have been surviving for hundreds
of years? This tradition is not just in Kenya, but widespread
throughout Africa. It’s not very common, but still heard of,
especially in more rural areas. Practicing witchdoctors preach this
nonsense. Some may also ask for man’s genitals so they can be burned
and used as part of their healing rituals. The other day, one of the
teachers at Oasis of Hope (the school I have been teaching at) said
that her neighbour was brutally murdered in front of one his children.
The murderers chopped off his genitals and ran with them. Proof that
these customs are still alive today. Even in “modern” Kisumu.
On a happier note, my friend Bex and I are helping to organize a
library which in theory will eventually be accessible to the public
and not just the students! We are using our western education to show
them how to organize the books (donated from churches from the US, GO
AMERICA) and how to create a check out system. Who knew we could
contribute such a seemingly simple piece of knowledge to create
something so great for them?
Today brought me to tears. Me and a couple from New Zealand have been frequenting the place called APECC, which is a church group who runs a home for the sick and destitute. This includes the mentally ill who are chained to trees. There are many “volunteers” who work there and give their time to help take care of these people who are dropped at their doorstep because their families simply don’t know what to do for them anymore.
They do really good work there, with their lack of resources. They have a pretty self sustainable farm with cows, goats, chickens, sheep, etc. And they grow every fruit and vegetable imaginable. They also have a well nearby. And a school. The only thing is the nearest hospital is 8km away. That’s a long ways away when you are sick... And the kids at the nearby school make fun of the children from APECC because they are orphans. I know kids can be mean, but to make fun of someone else because their parents died and left them to fend for themselves... a little more than harsh I would say. I’m not writing to make you feel sorry for these people, though. Today was our last day and they had a goodbye ceremony. Every day that we visit, they give us their best food and are so welcoming. But today, almost everyone got up and spoke to us about how grateful and blessed they feel to even know us. They expressed how much it meant to them to even have a white visitor. And they kept repeating how it was a sign/blessing from God to keep doing the work they are doing. Talk about inspiration. They kept saying we were inspirations, but the work they were doing was more than impressive in itself. So selfless. Sort of like a commune. I am sure that term would scare them if I explained it, as they aren’t so liberal, but very family oriented.
I had to hold back my tears throughout the whole ceremony. Crying in African cultures means you’re sad and we didn’t want them to think that. We explained later, that in Western culture, we cry when we are happy as well. They were wondering... Then we had to speak. I again, had to swallow the lump in my throat. I hope things change for them, but I think they are on the right path. They are working towards self sustainability and I think that is such forward thinking for such a small, rural place. They know they cannot soley depend on donations from Western countries so they are making a huge effort to help themselves. That right there is the most important thing of all. As Western cultures keep shoving huge amounts of money at these poor, uneducated countries, we keep the cycle going. Because what happens when the money runs low? I’m sure Africa won’t be on top of the agenda. And then what? APEC is more prepared than most of the groups that I’ve seen here and it makes me happy to see people taking care of each other in such a beautiful way. They have hope and it’s beautiful and it radiates from them. J
