Down South (and East) to Dar-es-Salaam

NOTE: I realize in the previous version that I didn't explain who Michelle, Jaco and Sydney were.  After writing the first part on-line, I finished writing the post in a word processing document and forgot to copy over the explanation into the earlier version.  It's corrected now.

On Friday, April 6th, I left early in the morning by bus for Dar-es-Salaam.  It was supposed to take about nine or ten hours, but instead took nearly twelve.  Along the way, I was once again harassed by an immigration official who boarded the bus and asked to see our passports.  I felt like she was rude and gave me a hard time for no good reason, but what do I know.  By the time we arrived it was after dark so when I got off the bus at the crowded bus station, I just followed the first cab driver who came up to me and got a ride to the hostel.  It was a bit of a drive and after a few wrong turns and stops to ask passersby for directions, we finally found the small dirt road where the hostel was located.

We arrived just after 8:00pm and I discovered that the private room that I had reserved was actually a tent outside in the yard.  I was actually okay with that because the tent had a fairly comfortable full-size air mattress with sheets, was cheaper than a dorm bed and also gave me some privacy.  The only major problem (or so I thought) was that by 7:30/8:00am in the morning, it was so sweltering hot inside the nylon confines of the tent that I had to escape inside to the (relatively) cooler comfort of the main house.  After breakfast, I called a couple that I had worked with at my last job when I cast them on the show.  Michelle and Jaco are a South African couple who moved from outside New York City to Dar-es-Salaam with their young son, Sydney.  We made plans to meet up in the afternoon after I took care of some things.


My first priority on Saturday morning was to book a train ticket from Dar-es-Salaam to Kapari Mposhi in Zambia so I could catch a bus from there to visit Victoria Falls in Livingstone.  The manager at the hostel were I was staying was heading to the orphanage that is affiliated with the guesthouse so she dropped me off on the main road to pick up a cab from there.  I flagged down a rickshaw taxi since it was less expense than an auto cab and told him I wanted to go to the train station.  I learned afterwards that I should have specified the TAZARA station, though I think he still may not have known where to go even if I said that.  He stopped multiple times to ask for directions and eventually just dropped me off by the main port area where you catch the ferry to the island of Zanzibar.  Immediately a tout approached me to try to drag me into a place to buy a ferry ticket.  I told him I didn't want a ferry ticket, but rather a train ticket.  He said he could help me with that too and against my better judgment I followed him.  I really should have tried to go to the actual train station, but had no idea where it was and didn't think the rickshaw driver did either.  So I got out and went with the tout to the tour office.

When I got inside the office, the agent made some phone calls and at first said that the train was all booked up.  Then he said he could still manage to get me a ticket and convinced me to also get a ride to the station with his driver.  I really should have tried to find out how much the train ticket cost ahead of time because since I had no idea, I could only go on his word.  I knew there would be a little bit of commission, but I had no idea until later exactly how much.  In any case, his scare tactic of saying the train was fully booked worked and I agreed to pay what he was asking without even really trying to bargain.  It did make me a bit nervous that he only gave me a receipt and said the driver would have the ticket when he picked me up, but there was nothing I could really do about it after the fact.

After leaving the booking office, I walked around the downtown area a bit to try to find a place to buy another memory card for my camera since the last allegedly 4GB one I had bought was already full.  Unfortunately, since it was the Saturday of Easter weekend, many shops were closed.  I also wanted to buy a new Tanzanian SIM card for my phone, but was running into the same problem with that fruitless search.  I found one electronics store that sold memory cards, but when I tried to test one out, it said it wasn’t formatted correctly for my camera.  At another store, the card didn’t work at all.  In the meantime, I was trying to reach Michelle, but wasn’t able to get through with my Kenyan SIM card.  My frustration grew when, en route to a camera store that had been suggested to me which turned out to be closed, it began to pour down rain.  I didn’t have an umbrella so I had to just stand under an overhang waiting for it to let up a bit.  When the rain finally slowed down, I decided to just take a cab back to the hostel and figure out how to get ahold of my friends from there.  On the way to the main street, however, I saw an internet cafe where I thought I may be able to get a SIM card.  They didn’t have the SIM card, but did have an 8GB mini SD card that came with an adaptor and seemed to work in my camera.  At least I finally had one thing I needed.

Back outside, I hopped in a cab and gave the driver directions back to the hostel.  On the way, I tried a different way of dialing the international number for Michelle and managed to get through.  I was still in the cab, but we were heading the wrong direction towards their house so I had the driver turn around and go the other way.  I knew it was going to cost me more, but it made more sense than going all the way back to the hostel just to hop in a cab again.  As we got close, it was clear the driver didn’t really know where he was going even though I kept putting him on the phone to talk to Michelle and Jaco’s housekeeper in Swahili.  We eventually pulled up in front of the Korean embassy and a short time later, Michelle arrived in her van.  Of course the driver wanted entirely too much money, but since I had’t really discussed the additional cost with him when we changed direction, I had no choice but to pay him pretty much what he asked.

Once in Michelle’s van, we drove the short distance to the family’s gated complex.  Everyone in the family, including six-year-old Sydney, looked much more blonde and tanned than when I had last seen them in the middle of the New York City winter.  Michelle gave me a tour of their huge four-bedroom house, which looked like it could have come straight from Westchester County where the family last lived. I guess the difference was that they said nothing had really worked right when they first moved in, even though the house was brand new.  I had left House Hunters before we filmed with them in Tanzania, but having done a lot of the legwork and organized the back story, it was interesting to see where they ended up.  Out in the side garden, Jaco had built a beautiful covered patio with a built-in grill.  It seemed to be where the family spent a lot of time when they were home at night and on the weekends.

By mid-afternoon, the weather had cleared up enough that we were able to go to the nearby yacht club.  Michelle and Jaco are members even though they don’t yet have a boat as that seems to be where a lot of the Dar-es-Salaam ex-pats hang out.  I hadn’t brought a bathing suit with me from the hostel so Michelle graciously lent me one of hers.  Luckily it pretty much fit even though she's a lot skinnier and taller than me.  When we got to the club, we got right into the water to go paddle boarding.  Michelle and Jaco each had their own board with Sydney riding on the front of Jaco’s and I was lent the inflatable board.  It was my first time trying to paddle board, but Jaco said I did the best he’s ever seen someone on their first try.  That’s probably because I have experience kayaking and the motion is somewhat similar, though on the board you also have to worry about keeping your balance.  I didn’t fall off once, though I did jump off into the warm Indian Ocean water at one point because I was getting really hot standing in the sun.  We only went out a short distance to where some boats were moored before turning around and heading back to shore.  While Sydney took a turn on the inflatable board I swam around a bit closer to shore until I felt I was getting stung by some sort of sea creature so I headed back to the beach.

After leaving the club, we went back to the house and Michelle and Jaco’s German neighbors and a young British couple came over for a cookout on the patio.  Jaco grilled chicken, steak and some nice squash while Michelle made a rocket salad and garlic bread.  After dinner, I was invited to stay at the house instead of returning to the hostel, but since all my stuff was there I decided to go back at least for the night.  Jaco called a driver they often use and he brought me back to the hostel on the other side of town.  When I got there, many of the guests and staff members seemed to be up on the second-floor terrace.  Instead of going directly back to my tent I went right upstairs to join them.  A short time later, a few people were leaving to go out, but since it sounded like they were going to be staying out late, I decided not to join them.

When I finally got back to my tent, I made a very unpleasant discovery.  I had apparently not attached the string that went around the fence post to shut the gate carefully enough and the hostel’s three guard dogs had managed to get inside.  They had torn a hole in the netting of the tent’s front room and had ransacked the bag that I had unfortunately left there instead of locked in the back “bedroom.”  Stuffing from an airline pillow I was carrying around was strewn all over the yard and the remains of three pairs of destroyed underwear were scattered in various different locations.  I later discovered that I was also missing one wool sock that I never managed to locate.  I was pretty pissed, but it was too late to do anything about it so I just shut the fence and went to bed.

The next morning was Easter and I was up early again with the sweltering sun.  I went into the house to make breakfast since the staff had the day off.  While I was eating, I told some of the other guests about what had happened to my stuff and most people were pretty sympathetic.  After breakfast, I left with two of the other hostel guests to head over to the orphanage, which is partially funded by proceeds from the hostel.  Long-term volunteers at the orphanage stay at the hostel and two of them were already at the home making cookies and dying Easter eggs.  When the three of us arrived, there was no one at the guard desk to let us in and no one in the house could hear our knocking (and later shouting.)  In the end, we had to climb over the wall to get inside the complex.  Initially only two of the kids were home because the rest had gone to church.  That gave us an opportunity to hide the dyed eggs and some candy that one of the other volunteers had brought with her. 

About an hour later, the rest of the kids came home and immediately caught sight of some of the eggs.  A few of the kids grabbed one or two, but one of the boys just picked up a whole tire with an egg lying in a crevice on top and carefully carried the whole tire without removing the egg.  It was seriously the cutest thing ever.  Before the kids were allowed to look for the rest of the eggs, however, one of the full-time workers made them go inside and change their clothes.  Finally she gave the go-ahead and the children raced around finding all the eggs and candy in about ten minutes flat.  Some of the kids had trouble finding any so we made sure to point them in the right direction.

After the egg hunt, we spent another half hour or so just hanging out with the kids before they went to eat their lunch and we sat under a gazebo eating ours.  I mentioned to the Canadian manager of the hostel what had happened with the tent and though she initially seemed very dismissive and more concerned about the damaged tent than my stuff, I later learned through an apology e-mail that she hadn’t realized how many of my things had actually been destroyed.  I had already decided, though, that I was going to stay with Jaco and Michelle for the next two nights since a free air-conditioned room with a private bath definitely sounded like an upgrade from a steaming hot tent.  The tent incident gave me a good excuse to get out of the last day of my booking.  I called Michelle and let her know I was taking her and Jaco up on their offer.

Shortly after lunch I rode in the non-profit’s van with the others back to the hostel, packed my things, paid my bill and waited for Jaco’s cabbie friend to come and pick me up.  When I arrived at the house, I met another set of neighbors, a Kenyan and Zimbabwean couple and their three kids, who had just returned from a weekend in Zanzibar.  A short time later, we hid some plastic eggs filled with candy around the lawn for the kids to do an egg hunt.  It was already my second hunt of the day, though unfortunately my job in both cases was to hide rather than seek.  After Sydney and the neighbors’ two older kids found all the eggs, another couple arrived with their toddler son who got to find a few eggs of his own.  That night we cooked out again and I spent the night in a lovely climate-controlled room.

Monday was also a holiday (Easter Monday) so Michelle and Sydney had the day off from work and school.  Michelle and Jaco wanted to go paddle boarding so they dropped Sydney and I off at the beach across from their house so he could go surfing with his friends.  While Jaco gave Michelle a head start on her board, he said I could get on his to paddle around a bit.  I tried to get on board, but because of the motion of the waves I was immediately knocked off and went under the water.  I stupidly was wearing my sunglasses on my head and they had fallen off into the surf.  Even though I was in only about three feet of water, I couldn’t find them anywhere and after about five minutes of searching knew they were lost for good.  Luckily, I was able to buy another cheap pair outside of a shopping center later on that day.  Sydney, meanwhile, was trying to get on his board with the help of his friends’ mother, a Mexican woman named Lucinda (if I’m remembering correctly) who is married to an American man who works with Michelle.  Sydney was getting very frustrated and wanted to give up, but Lucinda kept insisting he give it another try and he finally almost stood up.  In the meantime, the other kids, a twin brother and sister, were getting restless, so we soon headed back to shore with me keeping a hand on Sydney’s board until we got to the beach.

All the kids wanted to go to the yacht club, but Lucinda had to go home to bring her older daughter to a party.  That meant I was in charge of dropping her off and then driving the other three kids to the club.  After I got Sydney into dry clothes and all the kids piled in the back of the SUV, I hit the road driving for the first time on the left-hand side of the car (in a borrowed car owned by my House Hunters contributors... eeek.)  I did okay, exact that I kept turning on the windshield wipers instead of the turn signal because the indicators were on opposite side of the car from what I was used to.  Every time I would do it, Lucinda would calmly say, “That’s okay.  The turn signal is on the other side of the car,” as if to keep me from completely freaking out.  After I dropped Lucinda off, I was left in the car by myself with all three kids chatting away to each other in the back.  I definitely felt like Nanny Jen, especially when I had to tell them to “sit back” when they started to get a little overexcited.  Luckily we all made it to the club in one piece and the kids went off to play in the water, while the twins’ dad and I sat on the deck drinking beers and waiting for Michelle and Jaco to arrive on their boards.

At lunchtime, we all went out to an Italian restaurant and then returned to the house where Jaco gave the twins and Sydney a “SCUBA” lesson (with a portable emergency tank) in the complex pool.  In the late afternoon, we had to drop all the kids off at the twins’ apartment complex for their weekly skateboarding lesson.  Michelle, Jaco and I then went around to a few stores so I could pick up some things I needed for my train trip.  When we went to go pick Sydney up, I got a chance to see the inside of the twins’ apartment, which was apparently in the same complex where Michelle and Jaco viewed an apartment on the show.  The family had previously lived in Nepal and the dad had worked in North Korea so there was a ton of amazing artwork from Asia all over the walls.  When we got back to Michelle and Jaco's later, we had a quiet dinner of leftovers and then Sydney talked me into watching him while he went swimming again in the pool.  Jaco seemed to notice that Sydney and I were getting along smashingly because once we were back inside he jokingly asked, “Do you want a job as an au pair?”  The moment was short-lived however, as when I asked Sydney for a hug goodbye that night, knowing I wouldn’t see him in the morning, his response (before grudgingly letting me hug him) was “But I just took a shower.  I don’t want get all dirty again.”  I thought that was hilarious, but when I told Jaco what he said, he gave Sydney a bit of a hard time.

The following day, I had to catch my two-day train from Tanzania to Zambia.  I needed to call the agent from the ferry terminal to tell him I had changed locations, but just as I made the call my phone ran out of minutes.  Since Jaco was out to breakfast with a friend, his housekeeper fortunately offered to ride his bike to buy a refill card for me.  As slightly uncomfortable as the thought of domestic help in a developing country makes me, in this case, I was really glad he was there.  And as Michelle told me, ex-pats who don’t hire help are actually criticized for not providing jobs for local workers.  When he got back I was able to make my call and then when Jaco returned he brought me around to a few shopping centers to pick up some last minute things I needed.  Michelle met us at one shopping center for coffee so I was able to say goodbye during her break from work.  At about noon, my taxi arrived and I was off to the train station for the next leg of my journey.

Kilimanjaro and Crafts With Kids

During the Saturday afternoon I was in Arusha, about two dozen neighborhood kids came to TACODA for a community art project that I had to facilitate.  Deo was out for most of the day picking up some of the center's younger boys from their boarding school for their spring vacation.  The local children arrived before he got back so unfortunately there was no one to help me translate the instructions.  Luckily there were two men who came to TACODA with the kids so they could at least provide some assistance helping the kids to cut and glue.  For the project, the kids made masks by cutting eye, nose and mouth holes out of paper plates and then adding feathers, pom poms and pipe cleaners as decoration.  When they were done, we punched two holes and tied a loop of string so that they could wear them.  The kids seemed to enjoy themselves, but once they were done there was quite a mess of feathers, pom poms and pipe cleaner pieces all over the tables and floors.

On Sunday, Deo had offered to bring me to the base of Mount Kilimanjaro about 80 kilometers from Arusha.  He doesn't have a car so we had to go there by public transportation.  Deo was already running a bit late, but then I realized I had locked my camera in the office the day before and since he didn't have the key with him, he had to go all the way back home to get it.  Nearly an hour later, he arrived and we set off by matatu for downtown Arusha.  From there we caught a bus to the town of Moshi where we had to get another matatu to Mt. Kilimanjaro National Park.  On the bus to Moshi, Deo got a call from his friend regarding a safari trip to Ngorongoro Crater that he was trying to set up for me.  His friend said there was a group leaving that night for Karatu and heading to the crater early Monday morning.  It was already after 1:00pm so by the time we got back from Kilimanjaro I would have to had to take a private car to get to Karatu.  I weighed my options and decided it wasn't worth it to pay the sizable extra expense.  I ended up regretting my decision, but by the time I realized that it was too late to do anything about it.

Once we got out of the matatu, we had to hire a taxi to actually bring us up to the base of the mountain.  Just like with Mount Everest, you can't actually see the mountain from the base camp.  You can theoretically see it on the drive up, but it was so cloudy and overcast that day, that the summit was barely visible.  I got one decent shot of it on the way back down, but otherwise it was shrouded in mist.  When we got to the park, we walked around for a few minutes, took some photos of the trailhead signs and then headed back to the cab.  It was getting to be late afternoon by this time, but since I had decided not to go on the Ngorongoro tour, we opted instead to stop by a waterfall before going back to Arusha.  We had to walk down a steep trail and then cross a stream to reach the bottom of the falls, but getting to see something besides the clouded-over mountain somewhat helped to justify the three-hour trip each way from Arusha.

After the cab driver dropped us off, we took another matatu back to Moshi where we boarded a bus headed for Arusha.  About two-thirds of the way through the trip we started to encounter large groups of people out in the streets shouting and celebrating.  It was nearly 7:00pm by this point so it was already dark.  In some spots, the driver had to go very slowly to avoid the crowds surrounding the bus and banging on the sides.  In spite of this, I didn't start to get nervous, until a car suddenly raced up from the other direction, sending people running and scattering.  Next thing I know I heard a few pops and all of a sudden the man next to me in the window seat was shutting the window and frantically rubbing his eyes.  Deo was hit next and started grabbing his eyes as well.  I shut mine, but mistakenly started breathing through my mouth and was hit with a mouth-full of tear gas.  Once we had gotten through the worst of it, Deo grabbed my bottle of water and started dowsing his eyes to clear them.  I meanwhile took my sweatshirt and put it over my face to make it easier to breathe.  Even so, I couldn't stop coughing thanks to the initial dose of poison.

Once things had calmed down a bit, Deo explained to me that a special election had taken place that day to replace a local MP who had died.  The ruling party wanted the seat to go to the MP's son, but the opposition cried nepotism and in the end the opposition candidate won.  The people were out in the streets celebrating the victory, but the police (or government forces) felt threatened so they wanted to break the crowds up.  Deo claimed the next day that a few people had died in the violence, but I had no way to confirm this.  All I know is that for the rest of the bus ride to Arusha I was sitting on the edge of my seat fearing we would come across more large crowds.  I was really worried about what would happen once we got to the center of town since it was already dark and the bus station was always crowded and chaotic anyways.  Luckily, Deo had called ahead and arranged for a cab to meet us on the main road, which brought me right back to John's house.  Once there, I gratefully headed through the gate, locked myself inside the house and ate dinner in peace and quiet.  In retrospect, I would not have wanted to get back into a car that night to drive all the way to Karatu.  However, I do wish that we had gotten an earlier start in the morning so I would have gotten back on time to go while it was still daylight.  For the rest of the night, I was on edge whenever I thought I heard loud noises from out on the main road even those I was safe behind the gated walls of the complex.

By Monday morning, it seemed that everything had gone back to normal and I was able to go to Mganwaza School for my second day there with the older students.  Here's my summary:

Day 4 - Monday, April 2nd

On Monday, I returned to Mwangaza, where most students were out for the week on holiday aside from the Level 4 and Level 7 students who were studying for their assessment exams.  I had to wait for the Level 4 students to finish up their math class in the morning and in the meantime went to greet and answer the questions of some Level 6 students who had come in on their own to study together. 

To start off my lesson with the Level 4 students we sang, "Hello Everybody.  How Do You Do?," "Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes" and "If You're Happy and You Know It" and I then taught them the "Hokey Pokey."  Afterwards we read through "One Nighttime Sea" with them repeating each line after me.  I went through quickly a second time to demonstrate how to act out each animal.  We then read through the book a final time with the correct number of students coming to the class for each animal (1-10 and then 10-1) to do the actions in front of the class.  It was a bit hard to keep control during this activity because all of the students would rush up to the front even when I tried to individually select them (I would get to the front and would have two or three extra students each time.)  Since it was hard to keep track, I'm sure some students got to go more than once.  They seemed to have fun, though, so I guess that's what matters.  The school coordinator was also in the room to assist with managing everything so that was a big help.

I only taught one class that day, so in the afternoon, I went back to TACODA to add some new ideas to a few of the lesson plans.  Then gradually more and more kids started showing up in the yard out front.  Eventually one of the TACODA boys came in to ask when I was going to be ready to work with them.  Unbeknownst to me, apparently the neighborhood children thought they were supposed to come back that day for another community project.  I started scrambling to gather supplies for a weaving project and just as I was upstairs giving instructions, Deo called to say that I should have them return the next day instead.  I was definitely caught off guard by the kids' arrival so I was glad to be given a reprieve, though I was still a bit upset that I hadn't been given any advanced warning.

On Tuesday afternoon, the kids came again for the community project and I had them work on a paper weaving project where they wove strips of one color paper into a second color paper "loom."  I underestimated how inexperienced some of these kids, especially the younger ones, were with the concept of weaving and even cutting with scissors.  As a result, I spent most of the hour cutting hundreds of strips of paper and literally weaving them all in by myself.  Just when I would finish (or get pretty far along) with one weaving, four or five kids would all stick their papers into my hands, clamoring to be next.  I was completely exhausted by the end of the session and frustrated to see the amount of wasted paper that ended up in the trash pit and to discover that a whole stack seemed to go missing.  I realize now that I probably should not have tried to attempt a project quite so complicated with so many kids of all different ages.  The older kids were able to handle it, but the younger ones were definitely not.

I was now done volunteering, but before leaving Arusha to head to Dar-es-Salaam, I had wanted to find some way to go on a game drive, which Deo had be trying to help me do.  In particular, I wanted to go to Ngorongoro, but since it was $200 per car to get in plus $50 per person, not including the cost of the driver, it was something I could just not afford to do on my own.  It was actually one of the first times since starting my trip that I was really frustrated I was traveling alone and didn't have anyone with whom to split costs.  In the end, John agreed to drive me to the nearby Arusha National Park for a charge of about $100, including fuel and his entrance fee.  Originally his sons were going to come as well, but it ended up just being the two of us.  The park is only about a one-hour drive from the city and thus doesn't have elephants, rhinos or any of the big cats.  John seemed to have a good idea of where to go, though, because he spotted a bunch of black-and-white colobus monkeys far off in the treetops that none of the other guides appeared to have noticed.  In addition, we saw some herds of buffalo (the only one of the Big Five in the park), giraffes, zebras, wart hogs, tons of baboons, guinea fowl and flamingos.  Though, we didn't seem much big game and it was rainy for much of the day, we did see a lot of different animals and it was nice that the park wasn't too overcrowded.

Right outside the park on the way back to Arusha, John and I stopped at a reptile farm where I saw several different kinds of (mostly) deadly snakes, crocodiles and chameleons.  In the end my first official African game drive was a nice way to wrap up my time in Arusha.  The only other annoyance was that what I thought was a 4 GB memory card I had just bought was actually an already used card that only stored a few dozen pictures.  I was mad about being ripped off and having to save most of my photos to the camera's memory.  I still haven't tried getting them off so hopefully it will work.

Teaching in Tanzania

So I now know what it feels like to be tear gassed.  But more on that later.  First I'm going to tell you about my experiences volunteering in the public school system in Tanzania.
 
I arrived in Arusha, Tanzania, on a Tuesday afternoon and then was scheduled to start teaching in one of the local public schools the following day.  I didn't spend much time that afternoon at the EfforTZ office, which is housed in the TACODA Boys' Home, so I didn't have a chance to put together all of the materials I needed for the lessons.  Instead I went with John to the grocery store to pick up some food and then returned to the house to help his wife cook dinner, which we ate with their two young sons.  On Wednesday morning I walked over to TACODA early to quickly pull all of the supplies and then headed off to the first school feeling far from ready.  Unfortunately, when I arrived at Kaloleni with Deo via matatu, we got some very bad news.  The school was in the midst of standardized testing and just couldn't make time for me to teach any English classes.  Aside from that, the school (and all the public schools in the city) was closing on Friday for a week-long spring vacation.  That put a bit of a wrench into my plans since I had been planning to volunteer at three different schools for two days each.  My six days of teaching were at best getting cut down to three.  We left the first school and headed to a different one called Naura a short distance away where luckily they were able to accommodate me.  Here is the summary of my first day that I sent to my dad's friend from the
EfforTZ board, who was helping to coordinate my volunteer efforts from the States:

Day 1 - Wednesday, March 28th

When I first arrived at Naura School, I was a bit nervous since I didn't feel like I had given myself enough time to prepare and I didn't know quite what to expect.  My first stop was a nursery class with eight young kids.  The moment I walked in the room, one of the boys walked up to me with his arms outstretched and then all the kids gathered around for a group hug.  My nerves instantly disappeared and instead I found I was holding back tears in response to this warm welcome.  The kids did a great job singing several songs and then we read aloud "Five Little Monkies Jumping on the Bed."  After reading through the book once, the kids took turns acting out the parts and honestly blew me away with how quickly they caught on and how much they got into it. 

 The second class I went into was a Level One class where I was amazed at the number of students in just one room.  We sang "Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes," "If You're Happy and You Know It" and "The ABCs."  The students then worked on "The Skunk" booklet for the rest of the class, alternating writing the missing letters in the key words and reading the words aloud. 

After a break, I headed into my first Level Two class, where we again opened with some songs and then completed The Peacock" booklet.  The students' favorite part of the lesson was when I gave them the chance to come up to the blackboard to write the missing letters in each key word.  They were all clamoring for a chance with the chalk so that was clearly a big hit.  I then went right into another Level Two class where the teacher was a bit less responsive and the kids seemed more distracted so this was definitely the most challenging class out of the four.  It probably didn't help that I was getting a bit tired so my energy was starting to lag.  I also couldn't find any chalk so I wasn't able to have the kids write on the board and thus get them more actively involved.  I still hope they got something out if it even if it was just some enjoyment from singing the songs.  Overall, I really enjoyed my first day and can't wait to go back to Naura again tomorrow.

In the early afternoon, Deo came back to the school to pick me up and we went to lunch at a cafe nearby that's run by a German woman.  After eating, we walked over to the Arusha Museum of Natural History, which is housed in a "boma" or fortification that the Germans built in 1899 when they were colonizing the area.  Deo wanted me to be able to learn something from my visit to Arusha and I had told him I liked museums.  The museum was small and mainly focused on paleontology and the natural environment of the area, but also had a small section devoted to the history of the founding of the city, particularly with regards to the German colonization.  After meandering through for an hour or so, we headed back to TACODA where I prepared for the next day before walking back to John's to make myself dinner.

On Thursday, I was once again at Naura for my second day at that school.  Here is my summary:

Day 2 - Thursday, March 29th

On my second day at Naura, I started in a Level 1-A Class.  The students were very excited to see me because they had been waiting for me to teach them since the day before.  We sang several songs and then worked on the "The Cat" booklet, which seemed to be appropriate for their level.  There were two teachers in the class and they helped somewhat to maintain discipline so the students kept on task. 

 I then went immediately back into the nursery class where I was again greeted with hugs from all the students.  The teacher was out of the room at the beginning of class so we worked on some of the same songs we sang the day before and then once the teacher returned I taught them how to play "Duck, Duck, Goose." The teacher in this class is very helpful and had a lot of great energy.  After singing, we read "Are You My Mother?" with the teacher translating into Swahili.  I then passed out animal posters and we read the story again with the students making animal noises when their animal was mentioned.  The students saw the "Five Little Monkies Jumping On the Bed" book in my bag so I let them act it out one final time before the end of class.  This class because of its small size and very engaged students, was by far my favorite of the two days at Naura. 

After a tea break, I went into a Level 1-B class, which was the most challenging of all the classes.  The teacher was not present and the coordinator had some administrative duties so I was in there all by myself.  It didn't help matters that there were quite a few Level 2 students in the back of the class eating lunch and talking amongst themselves.  It was definitely a challenge trying to make sure the students understood me.  By the end of the class, the coordinator returned so I was able to get the students better under control.  In this class, we sang some familiar songs, I taught them "The Itsy, Bitsy Spider" with the hand movements and then we worked on "The Duck," which might have been a little bit too challenging for the Level 1 students. 

For the final class of the day, I worked with Level 2 students where I taught them how to sing "Row, Row, Row Your Boat" after singing some songs they already knew. They were mildly successful at singing it in a round, but I think they didn't quite understand the concept.  We then worked with "The Cat" book in this class again, which they seemed to be able to handle quite easily.  In all the classes, the children enjoyed coming up to the blackboard to fill in answers in chalk.  That was definitely a big hit.  I am looking forward to working with new students at Mwangaza tomorrow.

On Friday, I went to a new school called Mwangaza that was a bit farther away from the city center.  This turned out to be the most challenging day of all owing to the enormous size of all the classes.  While debriefing with the head master and some of the other teachers as I waited for Deo to come pick me up, I found out that the students from Level 4 and Level 7 would be coming in the following week to work on test prep for their standardized testing.  Since I had already lost a few days because of the vacation schedule, I told them that I would try to come on Monday to teach another class or two.  Here is my summary from Friday:

Day 3 - Friday, March 30th

On my third day in Arusha, I taught three classes at Mwangaza School. The first class was a Level 1-C class with probably between 70 and 80 students. We sang several songs, including "Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes" and "If You're Happy and You Know It." We then read and worked on "The Cat" booklet. Since I wasn't anticipating such a large class, I didn't have enough materials for every student and so some of the children had to share. The teacher in this class was very helpful and as a result the students, even though there were so many of them, were very well-behaved.

The second class I taught was a nursery class with about 50 to 60 students. We started off singing "Hello Everybody," "Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes" and "The ABCs." The teacher frequently left the room while we were singing to go talk on her phone and when she wasn't there I had a very difficult time keeping things under control. While we were singing "Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes" the students kept pushing each other and trying to crowd to the front. They didn't understand when I asked them to spread out into the aisles and instead would just go back to their seats when I told them to give some space.

It was quite challenging trying to convey my message without the teacher there to translate. She finally did return and we read "Five Little Monkeys Jumping On the Bed." The second time we read through the book, I had five students come to the front to act out the parts and the participants did a good job following directions. The most challenging thing during the second part of the class was that many of the students in other classes were on a break so they started crowding around all of the doors and windows to see what was going on. The noise and distraction they caused made it a bit difficult to keep the nursery students focused.

After a short break, I taught a very large Level 2 class with at least 100 students. This was by far the hardest class of the day as more and more students kept entering the room and not only did I not have enough supplies to go around, but there weren't even enough seats for all of them. After singing a few songs, we read "The Peacock" and I struggled to explain how the students were suppose to mark their sheets since the teacher wasn't walking around with me to help demonstrate. At first she seemed like she would work with me, but then she ended up just sitting at her desk looking rather tired and defeated. Since she wasn't helping to keep order, I had to repeatedly yell at the class to be quiet. I honestly didn't really blame either her or the students since I don't understand how they can possibly learn effectively in such an environment. It seems to be quite a systematic problem that up to 100 students can be placed into the same class with only one teacher. It certainly opened my eyes to some of the serious problems facing the education system in Tanzania.

Later that afternoon after teaching all morning at Mwangaza, a few of the teachers from each of the schools came to get training on a new software program at the TACODA office.  Time is very flexible in Tanzania ("Africa Time") so just as I was nearly done explaining everything to two of the teachers from Mwangaza (who were late arriving themselves,) a third teacher from Kaloleni arrived and I had to start all over again with her.  Unfortunately, the office printer was broken so I couldn't actually show them how to print out worksheets to use with the students, but rather just the steps they would need to follow to do so.  I realized that since the teachers had very limited experience with technology, they needed explicit instructions on how to do the most basic things.  None of the schools actually have computers, let alone internet access.  I think some of the classrooms don't even have electricity and instead just rely on natural light coming through the open windows.  I was definitely dealing with a whole different set of challenges that I would never have had to face in the U.S.  I just happened to luck out that the Internet worked for me throughout the training session at TACODA as even there it was incredibly unreliable.  By the time I finally got back to John's, I was exhausted and hoarse from talking (and in some cases nearly shouting) all day.  However, the teacher from Kaloleni's repeated assertion to Deo that I was a very good teacher at least gave me affirmation that my efforts were appreciated.

Well, it's getting late and this post is getting long so I will have to leave you in suspense as to the exact nature of how I ended up being tear gassed.  I know you can't wait to read how this cliffhanger ends.  Till then.

Kissin' Kenya

When I left Tumaini Hope on Saturday morning, I hitched a ride with some of the older kids and a driver from the center who were going to get more water since the supply at the orphanage had run out earlier.  They brought me to the nearest village where I had to board a matutu to another town before changing to a different minibus en route to Karen, an upper-middle-class suburb outside of Nairobi.  The boys asked a man who was riding with his little girl on the first matutu to show me where to get on the second one I needed.  Sure enough, when we got to the transfer point, the man graciously helped me get where I needed to go even though he actually wasn't getting on himself.  When we arrived in Karen, however, I was completely lost as to where to go.  A motorbike taxi driver pulled up as I was trying to call the hostel where I was staying and they gave him directions on how to get there.  I'm glad they did because it would have been quite the hike to walk all that way.  However, the entire time I was on the bike I was afraid I was going to topple off the end due to the weight of the backpack I was wearing.  Luckily I made it to the Bush House and Camp in one piece with all my belongings fully intact.

Once I got inside the gated compound, I realized that compared to my first hostel in Nairobi, this place was a lovely retreat.  There was an open living room and a solarium used as a dining room that was surrounded by some beautiful gardens.  That afternoon I didn't do much of anything besides go to a nearby shopping center to pick up some things I needed with a Swedish guest who was also staying at the hostel.  He had been working in Ethiopia on research for a masters thesis so it was really interesting to hear about his experiences with the local tribes.  There weren't many other people staying at the house that night aside from the Swedish guy, a middle-aged Australian woman and an older Kenyan couple so it was pretty peaceful, especially since it was so far outside the center of town.

The following day, I took a cab and went to the Giraffe Centre in the nearby town of Langatta.  The center was established to protect the endangered Rothschild giraffe, which is only found in the grasslands of East Africa.  The seven or eight giraffes in this particular center were housed in a very extensive enclosure along with a number of warthogs.  There was an education center with an elevated feeding center that allowed visitors to get up on eye level with the giraffes and not only give them pellets to eat, but also give them a kiss on the mouth.  In order to "kiss" a giraffe, one must put a pellet between one's teeth and then have the giraffe lick it out with its tongue.  Let me tell you from experience after feeding giraffes via both hand and mouth--they have very long, slobbery tongues.  It was pretty much as gross as it looks, but I guess it's worth it just to say I've done it.  After hanging with the giraffes for a while, I took a short nature walk with one of the guides from the center to check out the local foliage before heading back to the hostel.

Bright and early the following morning (and without the benefit of electricity which was out at the hostel), I took a cab into Nairobi and boarded a bus to the city of Arusha, Tanzania.  It's about a five-hour drive, including a stop to cross the border.  While we were still in Kenya, an immigration officer boarded the bus to spot check all our passports.  When he first got on, he couldn't find the page with my visa and then after he handed it to me, I awkwardly couldn't either.  I finally found it and after he asked me a few questions about why I was in Kenya, he finally seemed somewhat satisfied that I wasn't some dangerous terrorist and disembarked from the bus so we could continue on.  One of the Kenyan passengers later made a comment that he thought they guy was about to pull me off the bus and interrogate me, which made me glad that I wasn't the only one who thought the officer needlessly gave me a hard time.  Then when we got to the border crossing, I discovered that as an American citizen, I needed to pay $100 for a visa instead of the $50 I had planned for.  I only had a bit over $50 in American dollars so I had to pay the other 50 in euros.  Unfortunately, euros are worth more than dollars so I actually overpaid by about $13.  In retrospect, I probably should have accepted the offer of a Canadian couple on my bus to do a currency trade of euros for dollars, but instead I panicked and just handed the guy the euro bill.  At least he accepted the money so I didn't get shipped back to Kenya.

Aside from these little glitches, the bus trip went relatively smoothly.  I really enjoyed watching the scenery as we drove by the mountains, scrubland and small Masai villages while in my head I sang "Nants ingonyama bagithi baba... Sithi uhhmm ingonyam" (the opening of The Circle of Life) feeling like I was experiencing something straight out of The Lion King (without all the lions.)  When we arrived in the outskirts of Arusha, I disembarked from the minibus (apparently a stop or two too early) and upon realizing I had no idea where I was, called Deo, who is the director of the center where I was volunteering.  Luckily my SIM card from Kenya still worked in Tanzania or I would have been screwed since I had no local currency.  Deo seemed rather concerned that I was in the wrong place, but he told me to wait right where I was and not to talk to anyone.  In the end I was perfectly fine and he arrived a few minutes later in a car driven by John, in whose home he had arranged for me to stay.  We stopped first at the center and then after finagling a bit on the price, drove to John's place where I decided I could spend a little more money than usual to stay for the week.  It turned out I actually had the house to myself because John and his family actually live next door and just rent the other house out to visitors.  Once again it was nice to be able to just relax in my own space and not have to worry about sharing with anyone else for a little while.

Time for Tumaini

On Monday morning, I left the center in Ruiru to head back to Nairobi where I was supposed to meet up with one of my other contacts, Alice, who was going to bring me to my next volunteer site.  One of the women who works at the Ruiru center was also heading to town so she offered to go with me in a mini-bus (or "matatu" in Swahili.)  We walked together to the main road, me with all my bags and climbed into the first ride that came by.  I wasn't very organized so I had a bunch of different things in my hands and as I was trying to shove my way inside, my water bottle came loose and rolled across the road.  There were a lot of cars coming so instead of trying to run out to get it, I decided to consider it a casualty and leave it where it was. The aim of the matatu "conductors" is to shove as many people into the vehicle as quickly as possible so I don't think he would have had much tolerance for waiting.  With all my bags piled on top of me and people crammed in next to me, the 40-minute drive back to Nairobi was not the most comfortable journey ever, but luckily I made it will all my belongings (aside from the water) intact.

When we arrived at a random street on the outskirts of the city, the matatu dropped us off and I got into a cab to head to the shopping center where I was supposed to meet Alice.  On the way there, I determined that this was where the ex-pats and wealthier Kenyans lived, which was confirmed once I arrived at the mall with its (relatively) chic stores and upscale cafes.  While I was waiting for Alice to arrive, I went inside where I bought some school supplies to bring to the orphanage and then picked up a smoothie for good measure.  When Alice got there I went outside to meet her and her middle school-aged niece, Lulu, who was on her spring vacation from school.  Lulu is actually the daughter of Eunice who runs the Tumaini Hope Center where I was headed as a volunteer for the week.  At the time, Eunice was in the U.S. working on raising more funds for the orphanage so Lulu was staying in Nairobi with her guardian so she could continue going to school.  She was born in America, but moved back to Kenya when she was still pretty young.  However, she attends an American international school so her accent sounds completely American.  Lulu's father also lives in Virginia so she goes back often to visit.  Her aunt, Alice, meanwhile, is a native Kenyan who lives in New Jersey and works for the U.N.   She was back in Nairobi while I was there to oversee the groundbreaking of a new apartment building she's constructing.

Alice had promised Lulu that she would take her out for lunch so I was invited along on the way to the center.  We went to a delicious Ethiopian restaurant where we shared a spicy chicken dish and a vegetable dish along with the traditional spongy injera flatbread.  I had only ever tried Ethiopian food in New York City so it was fun to have a more authentic experience in the country right next door to where it actually originates from (though not actually in Ethiopia, itself.)

After lunch, we drove to the children's home, which is located on a hilltop overlooking fields and farmland just outside of the city.  The beautiful new complex, which features a main building that houses the Noah's Ark Rescue Center for the younger kids and two separate houses for the older boys and girls, was built just a few years ago and offers an amazing view of the countryside.  When I arrived it was a stark contrast to the very basic facilities they had to make do with in Ruiru.  The younger kids were just returning from school as we pulled up so as we got out of the car, three-year-old Amos, came running up to Lulu, who had lived at the center for a while with her mother.  He was a bit shy around me at first, but he was definitely excited to get attention from his favorite "big sister."

I got a brief tour of the main building and then got back into the car to drive to the cottage where I was staying at a discounted rate for the week.  It was a really cool private round hut that looked like something you would see at a safari lodge in the bush.  It was basically just a bedroom with a bathroom attached, but it was certainly more "luxurious" than the shared budget accommodations where I am more accustomed to sleeping.

I dropped off my things and then road the short distance back to the main complex.  Alice and Lulu said goodbye so I was left for the rest of the afternoon with the young one to six-year-old Noah's Ark kids and their many attentive "aunties."  In contrast with the older kids I was working with in Ruiru, here I was assigned to the to toddler and early elementary set.  There was an amazing ratio of about one auntie to every six or seven kids who shared a room and were literally each other's sibling.  Even still it was immediately evident that these children craved attention and that unlike their all-business aunties, I got to be the fun big sister who gave them pony rides on my knees and played hand clapping games with them.  I came to learn quickly that though all these demands on my attention where incredibly touching, they were also extremely exhausting.  When you have half a dozen three, four and five-year-olds climbing all over you and calling out "Jenny-fa" all at the same time it can get very tiring.  The first night, I didn't even make it past their dinnertime before I called it a night and went back to my cabin to eat my own dinner once it was delivered.

Over the next five days or so, I spent my mornings playing with the one and two year olds, helping in the kitchen, doing laundry and washing dishes.  There were three very nice social work students who were interning at the center for a few months so I spent a lot of time working with them during the day.  One morning we even made Chapati bread, though this time I was responsible for rolling out the dough into thin, round circles as opposed to cooking it.  It was kind of nice when it was quiet during the day, though it was obviously great to see the school-aged kids when they came home in the afternoon. Once they were back, I would help them to wash up and do their homework before they had playtime and then dinner.  I was obviously only able to assist with their English lessons and math assignments, but they would still ask me questions about Swahili.  I finally was able to explain to six-year-old George that I didn't speak Swahili so he would have to teach me.  I don't think he quite understood that he couldn't just list off a bunch of words in Swahili, he actually had to tell me what they meant in English.  Clearly those lessons didn't go too far.

Since the older kids, aged seven and up, were at school for longer during the day, I didn't get much chance to work with them, though I did go over one afternoon to say hello.  One of the girls showed me around their house and then brought me over the boys' house to get a tour.  Every so often, a few of the girls would come up to the main house when they got home from school to play with some of the young ones.  On the Friday that I was there a couple of American donors who were friends with Eunice stopped by for a few hours and two of the older girls stayed home from school to visit with them since they had known since they were very young.

Out at the cabins, I wasn't the only Western visitor staying there.  There was also a Dutch couple living in a cottage who were in the process of adopting one of the girls from the center. Apparently strict new adoption rules in Kenya require that adoptive parents stay in the country for six months before the papers are finalized.  This couple was willing to make the sacrifice and I could see how much love and devotion they felt toward little six-year-old Rachel.  I prayed that everything would work because I could see how much it would crush both them and her if something were to go array.  However, one small part of me couldn't help but think of how much change Rachel was in for once she moved away from her homeland and all her "siblings" for the cold, foreign, Dutch-speaking environs of the Netherlands.  There was even a bittersweet moment when Rachel had to say goodbye to her friends after she and her future parents had to move out of the cottage and into an apartment because of procedural requirements.  I know children are resilient, but in the end that center is their home and those aunties and other children are their family so it's definitely going to be an adjustment for her leave.

I moved out the day after Rachel and it was a bittersweet moment for me as well.  Even though I felt myself getting teary, I actually took a bit of comfort in knowing that unlike the kids at Ruiru, these young souls would probably forget about me within a few days.  Even though I wished I could still be there for them, it felt a lot less like abandonment.  With a quick, but sad farewell, I took my newly-gifted Tumaini Hope tee-shirt and rolled off in a truck back toward town where I caught a matatu to the city.

Even though the facilities at Tumaini Hope are nearly brand new and in great condition, there's still a a great need for donations and basic supplies.  For example, there are not enough forks for all the children to use so they often have to eat dinner with their hands.  Also, one day when I asked one of the children to bring me a book for us to read, the only thing she had was her school assignment workbook because there were no books.  On Saturdays, the children have a chance to draw with crayons, but otherwise there is no opportunity for creative activities or arts and crafts because there just aren't enough supplies.  In addition, the children only have a very limited number of toys, educational or otherwise, that they all must share with each other.  The ones they do have are generally old and worn and in some cases not even functioning.  If you would like to help to give these kids the best possible life, I am going to post links for both Tumaini Ministries and the Ruiru Rehabilition Centre on the main links pages where you can find more information.  Thanks for your generosity.  Both homes greatly need your help.

I'm exhausted so I will proofread and post pictures tomorrow.  Sorry in advance for any glaring errors.

Working with Kids in Kenya

I’m sorry I haven’t posted in quite a while.  I’ve been hanging out in South Africa for the past few weeks just relaxing a bit so I guess I’ve been taking a little break from the blog as well.  I will try to get it updated over the next few days or so.

I arrived in Nairobi, Kenya, at the end of March and was planning to volunteer at a children’s home there for about a week or so before heading down to Tanzania.  When I arrived, I took a cab from the airport to my hostel where I checked into a three-bed dormitory room.  The two other girls in the room appeared to be students who were living there long-term as their stuff was all over the place and they had obviously been there for a while already.  One of the girls was somewhat friendly, but the other seemed rather miffed that I had “invaded” her space despite the fact that it was a hostel room and thus subject by nature to transient residents.

Nothing seemed to be working at the hostel--the phones, the internet service--so I went across the street to a cafe with wifi access so I could check e-mail and try to connect with my contacts at the places where I was supposed to be volunteering.  When I finished I went back to the hostel where I met a German girl named Hannah who was up in Nairobi for a few days from Tanzania where she was volunteering.  We got some beers at the kiosk next to the hostel, sat outside drinking them and then called it an early night.

I was already back in my room when the unfriendly roommate who was sleeping in the bunk below me returned.  Though I tried to say hello, she didn’t even bother to acknowledge my existence.  I went to the bathroom to brush my teeth and when I returned I saw that she had unplugged my cell phone, which I was trying to charge, in order to plug in her own phone (there was only one electric outlet in the room.)  I was rather annoyed that she hadn’t even bothered to ask and as I stalked over to retrieve my phone I accidentally (I promise it was an accident) knocked over hers so that the charger disconnected.  I tried to plug it back in, but couldn’t figure out how to do it so I eventually had to ask her to do it herself.

It was nearly midnight by then and I was still wiped out from my exhausting plane journey and uncomfortable night in the Bahrain airport so I climbed up to my bunk to go to bed.  I didn’t even bother to ask the bitchy girl to turn off the light and instead just put on an eye mask so I could fall asleep--which I was fortunately able to do-- until about 2:30 in the morning.  That’s when I suddenly felt a hand grabbing for something around my back.  I audibly gasped and then heard a female voice quickly say “sorry!” before one girl opened the door to leave and another got back onto the lower bunk.  By that point the light was already out and I was so groggy that I didn’t bother to say anything.  I don’t really know what they were trying to do, but my best guess is that they wanted to find my phone, which I actually had next to me on the bed, though luckily on the other side.  Needless to say I was pretty pissed as I rolled over and went back to sleep.

The next morning I met up with Hannah whom I had made arrangements with to go into the city center.  I was already planning to check out of the hostel that day to head to one of the children’s homes, but the events of the night before confirmed that I needed to get out of there as soon as possible.  I mentioned what had happened to one of the managers at the front desk, but since I had no proof that the girls were actually trying to steal something and I couldn’t even confirm exactly who they were, I’m guessing he probably never even said anything to them.  At least I did my part to let him know in case something like that ever happens again.

After leaving our bags at the front office, Hannah and I took a cab into the center of Nairobi where we walked around the downtown shopping area.  I broke down and bought a cheap local cell phone since I had so many people I needed to get in touch with as well as a pair of sunglasses to replace the pair I had just left behind in Cairo.  We also walked around a traditional African craft market where there were a lot of really nice things that I just didn’t have any room to carry around in my backpack.  By mid-afternoon, we headed back to the hostel where one of my contacts was coming to pick me up and Hannah was supposed to meet up with a friend of a friend as well.

When the first car arrived, we weren’t sure who it was for, but it turned out it to be for me.  It was Matthew, a board member at the first children’s home I was going to visit for a few days where my friend, Nolan, had volunteered in the past.  Nolan had spent a week there with another friend, Kevin, and formed a real connection with a lot of the kids.  At first it didn’t look like it was going to work out for me to go there myself so I made arrangements with another home through one of Nolan’s coworkers.  In the end, the opportunity presented itself to visit so I postponed my arrival at the other center by a few days.  This first center was located in the village of Ruiru, about 30 minutes outside of Nairobi.  It housed mostly older children and teenagers who have generally been rescued from off the streets or homes where their parents are no longer able to care for them.  The facilities were very basic with no real indoor kitchen or running hot water, but I’m sure it was still preferable to where these children were living before.

Upon my arrival, several of the children greeted me at the entrance and I met a few of the staff members who showed me to the room where I was staying and gave me a tour of the complex.  The main building housed the office, rooms for the staff and visitors, a dining room, meeting hall and library where the kids do their homework and study.  Outside was a courtyard and covered kitchen area.  Bordering the yard were the four dorm rooms that house the girls and boys according to age.  Behind the dorms was a small garden and chicken coop where the kids help to grow vegetables and gather eggs.

After the tour, I went back into the main building where I spoke with some of the kids for  a while before being invited into the meeting room where they were blasting the CD player and dancing to the music.  Eventually I got pulled onto the dance floor where I made a complete fool of myself as only a white girl trying to keep up with a bunch of rhythmically-gifted African kids can truly do.  We alternated between them trying to teach me their moves and me teaching them mine, which were quite lame by comparison. In the end, though, I just let loose and had fun because I was clearly the only one who felt in the least bit self conscious. 

Late in the afternoon the kids had a fellowship service in the big meeting room.  They took turns singing hymns and reading out bible verses.  One Swahili song that they all sang together in harmony was so hauntingly beautiful that it nearly made me cry just listening to it.   Watching and interacting with the kids throughout the day made me see how much joy they take in the simple acts of singing and dancing despite their limited circumstances.  While all I could see was the things that were lacking, they were able to find so much happiness in the basic pleasures in life that cost very little money.  I also noticed how the children really treated each other as siblings and the older ones looked out for the younger ones.  They had created a family for themselves in the most difficult of situations.

At dinnertime, after the kids were ordered to turn off the music and pointedly told it was time to eat, I was ushered into the dining room where I was given a huge serving of Ugali bread and beans.  Ugali is basically just flour mixed in a pot with boiling water, but it is so dense that there was no way I could finish my massive portion.  Once I had determined that I couldn’t possibly shove any more of it into my mouth, I sheepishly put part of it back in the pot because I didn’t want to waste the food.  Naturally, this did prompt some strange looks from the group of younger kids who were gathered around as I did it.

The following day was Sunday so the kids were off from school again.  In the morning, I helped to cook traditional Chapati bread over the wood-burning stoves outside.  This basically involved placing thin circles of dough on a heated stone skillet, turning the dough, buttering it, then flipping it over and rotating it some more. I was certainly no expert and nearly burned my hand a few times on the hot skillet, but eventually got the hang of it.

I needed to pick up some more bottled water so after the cooking was done, Manuel, a young Dutch guy who had been volunteering at the center for a few months, brought me to the grocery store across the highway in the village.  Walking to the store I had the opportunity to see how poor the village of Ruiru actually was with its shanty houses, dirt roads and strewn piles of trash.  I suppose it was probably representative of many villages in Kenya, but compared to the relatively more developed city of Nairobi it was clearly lacking in many basic resources.  Along the way, Manuel told me stories about the kids and some of the things they had been through, including how one of the boys had recently been hit by a minibus crossing the road and never been quite the same since.  I had noticed the boy walked with a bit of limp, though he still loved to dance with all the others.  Manuel told me they sometimes made fun of him, which made me rather sad.

Back at the center in the afternoon, the children gathered for another church fellowship, this time led by a student from one of the local divinity schools.  There was more singing, testifying and preaching about important lessons the kids were supposed to glean from the Ten Commandments.  After the service the kids once again had free time so there was more dancing, unicycling and general commotion.  I danced with the kids and chatted with some of the older ones about their plans for the future.  One of the boys told me he was taking acrobatics classes and another named Francis explained that he wanted to go to college in the US to study fashion design.  He said it was Nolan who had encouraged him to pursue that career path and while I listened to his plans and offered him advice, it saddened me to think of the huge obstacles he is going to have to overcome to actually make it a reality.  These kids all have such big dreams, but just by accident of birth, it’s so much harder for them to reach those goals than it would be for the average American teenager.

In the evening, the kids all gathered for the weekly Sunday night debate.  As the visitor I  was tasked with coming up with the topic.  I had a hard time coming up with something suitable, but finally settled on the question of whether it is more important to learn history or science.  It was really interesting to hear what they had to say and see how their Christian beliefs influenced their arguments.  In the end, the “science” side won out, though I personally thought the “history” kids had a more coherent argument.  It was one of the kids who was doing the judging so he might have been just a bit biased.

After the debate we had dinner and then while the kids were doing their chores I tried to go around and say goodbye to some of the kids individually.  I had fully intended to get up to say goodbye to the whole group while they eating breakfast the next morning, figuring I would be awoken by the commotion.  Instead, since they ate at about 5:30am, it was barely a blip on my consciousness and I never made it out of bed.  I instead wrote a note and gave it to Manuel asking him to read it out to them when they got back from school.  I admit I had a bit of a lump in my throat, realizing I wasn’t going to get the chance to say goodbye.  Even though I had only spent a very short time with them, these were really special kids and it was hard knowing that, unlike very young children, they would actually remember me after I left.  The entire time I was there, they couldn’t stop talking about Nolan and Kevin, and how much they missed them  I saw what a big impression those guys had left on all the kids and I honestly felt like I was abandoning them just as they were starting to get to know me.  In some ways, I felt like it might have been better if I hadn’t come at all since I disappeared as quickly as I arrived.  However, it was now time to head to another children’s home where I would see things on the complete opposite end of the spectrum.

Pictures posted soon.  Also of Egypt.  Promise.  They're just not loaded on my computer yet.