Is Ignorance Bliss?

My answer? Maybe, but it's not a bliss I want. I was very surprised one day when I was about the difficulty of a visit I just made to a very poor family to hear the superior of the community say "Sometimes it's better not to see." She's from Colombia and has been a missionary for many years, and if you don't want to be with the needy why become a Sister? Anyway, that's not the point of this. I wonder what it would be like to live in a bubble and have no idea the world has problems. I feel like a sense of something bigger would still be there. Plus, regardless of social status everyone experiences difficulties, so there is no such thing as a perfect bubble world. Much better to live in the real world and worry about things that matter more than whether a pair of shoes matches a handbag.
I often hear about people who "left their heart in Africa." I don't think I'll know where mine is staying until I leave, but it has been broken into a million pieces so many times that I can't imagine some little piece hasn't fallen out. Just the other day a woman came to the mission carrying a beautiful 4 month old baby. However, the child was born without arms or legs. The woman had come from a decent distance because she was told one of the Fathers could help her. Her husband refused to accept the child, and since she would not abandon her baby he and his family kicked her out. This woman had so much love for her little girl, it was beautiful and heart wrenching at the same time.
I get bits and pieces of the story of the student I work with from the orphanage, Millicent. She is 20 years old, but a freshman in high school. She came to the Sisters when she was in class 6. Before, she was basically like a Cinderella in her brother-in-law's home. Even for holidays she stays with a host family or the Sisters because she has no relatives that can provide a safe situation for her. It is likely she was abused in the past. Despite this, she has a wonderful spirit, an it honestly is the highlight of my day spending time with her. She is trying hard in school, but was so sad after she got her exam grades from this term and had failed most of the subjects. It is not that she is unintelligent, it is because she does not have the proper knowledge base. To me she is like a toolbox that is ready to be filled, but so far is missing most of the tools. Millicent is worried that her sponsors will no longer pay for her to go to school, and even seems to be losing hope.
The little girls in the childrens home mostly have situations that are somehow similar. Yet they show so much love. When I greet them I always give them hugs and kisses. At first they were a bit hesitant, but now they have started giving me kisses when I am holding their hand or they are sitting on my lap.
One of the students in the techincal school was hit by a bicycle, and after being inintensive care for many days he passed away. The hospital would not release the body until the bill of 300,000 shillings was paid. The mother is aging and on her own with no way of getting that amount of money. A "harambee" was held, and the members of the community all came together to raise enough funds.
So, yes, these situations are hard to see, and they don't happen just in Africa. But, in each one there is something incredible also, a sense of tenacity, or love, or support. Despite the hardship of these, and even the hardship of observing them and feeling so powerless to remedy the situations (a lot of times what I can do seems like putting a band-aid on broken arm -- although it really is true that every drop creates a ripple), you can see so much good in the people who are enduring bad things, and it is beautiful and heart-breaking at the same time. Would I rather be ignorant and not know that these things happen? No! I want to be here and share my blessings and in turn learn so much about the big world which may be small after all.

My name is not "Mzungu"

"Mzungu" is the East African equivalent of "Gringo." Depending on the context, it can be either neutral or negative. Regardless, I don't like to be called "mzungu." When the children in the school address me as such, I either ignore them, or ask them "What is my name?" They are starting to learn that, especially when they are angry, pleading with "mzungu" will get them absolutely nothing.
While the word is not always meant to be used in a derogatory manner, I feel it takes away my individuality. I am not all white people -- nor are all white people the same. This seems to be something that happens everywhere: people who come from a different culture are thought to be just like everybody else from their home.
Also, if you are white, many things are assumed about you. Mainly that you have money flowing out of your pockets. Anyone who has been a volunteer certainly understands that this is not the case!
Basically, the point is that my name is Lauren, and I preferred to be called by my name, and not anything else --- I think most people would agree with me.

What do I do?

I realized I haven't really given a description of what I do here!

On weekdays, in the morning, I teach an English class to the Aspirants and Postulants (Sisters-in-Training). I then go to the Primary school and help the teachers mark English compositions, or make teaching aids. I come back to the "Mother house" and teach a piano lesson. We eat an early lunch, and then I go to assistance at either the technical, secondary or primary school -- I have a rotation set up. Basically we talk to the students while they eat, and in the primary then we go to play. In the afternoon, I go back to the school to help out. I teach another piano lesson, and by that time the day is ending. At night, I go to the orphanage to tutor. This is my favorite part of the day! I love the student I work with most, Millicent, and all the little girls also. They run up to me and I give them hugs and kisses -- something they don't get enough of!
On Sunday, I go to "Oratory" with the Postulants and Aspirants. They are assigned to three different places, so rotate among the three. This is sort of like Sunday school -- we arrive and attend Mass, have organized games, then the children have a lesson, they eat porridge, and then have time to play.
I of course help to do dishes and other general things. I type documents on the computer, help the Sisters with e-mail, and search for information. I occasionally will cook (see the section on Banana cake). I also sometimes "guest teach" primary school classes, and am hoping next term to have a class of my own there.
The days go by very quickly running back and forth between the school and the house!

A Trip to the Dispensary

I will never again complain about waiting at the doctor's office!
My stomach had been bothering me for a few days, so I decided it would be best to go to the dispensary (clinic) to make sure I didn't have amoeba or something of that nature. It was quite a different experience from going in the U.S.
When you first arrive, you wait in line to see the doctor/nurse. Because I live with the Sisters I did not have to wait in this line. I felt bad going ahead of people, but the workers were the ones who brought me to the front. It is "first come first served." When the person in front of you comes out of the office, you go in. The doctor/nurse asks you about your problem, and writes this in a notepad that you bring containing your medical records, basically (for me they used a piece of paper). There is no form about history or anything like that. The doctor/nurse then gives you your notebook to take to the lab. You wait until the lab techs are handing out testing equipment. For sample that are "self-collected" you take the container, and then bring it back. Then you wait for the test to be finished. The lab techs write the result in your notebook, and then you wait in line again to see the doctor/nurse. When you see the doctor/nurse, they write in your notepad the medicine you are to get. You then pay and wait in line at the pharmacy window. As you can tell, it takes a long time to go through this entire process, and when most people go to the doctor here they are quite sick. Also, the total cost of my visit, including the lab test, was about $3. Cheap by U.S. standards, but quite difficult for many of the people here. You do not pay to see the doctor, just for tests or medicines. Some families who cannot afford medicine come to the Sisters for assistance, but the medical care you receive, especially in Nairobi, really depends on how much you can pay.

Update

I know it's been a long time since I last wrote -- but I've had a busy couple weeks. Last Saturday I went on a field trip with the 8th graders to Nairobi (the class's first field trip ever). We went to the of the Kenyatta International Conference Center, a circular building with an open top. The strangest thing happened; there was another school group there, and one of the students asked if he could take a picture with me. Of course I said yes, and so they took a picture of me shaking his hand. Immediately after all the other students also wanted a picture with me. I had to take on many poses, and now somewhere in rural Kenya there are about fifty pictures of me with students! My sister says this will look good if I ever run for president. We also went to the "SafariWalk" (a bit like a zoo but you get closer to the animals). For the life of me I could not see the leopard, no matter how much people pointed. I did see a "muzungu" zebra -- one that is tan and white instead of black and white. We had lunch of a mini loaf of plain bread each, which wasactually quite good (sandwiches are not really made). We also visited a public park where the children could watch small airplanes land and take off. Finally, we went to Bomas Kenya, where traditional dances are performed. It was neat to see, even if it is a bit touristy. I am excited that soon I will have my residency card so I will be able to go places without paying a fortune (the tourist price can be 16X as expensive as the locals!) On the bus ride home I had an intense discussion with one of the teachers about the capabilities of women in science, and this also turned into talking about the roles of men and women in society. He was telling me that culturally there are jobs for men, and jobs for women, and that if the sink is leaking some women will wait two weeks for the husband to come home instead of fixing it themselves, because that is a job "for a man." Very interesting. When I was mentioning some of the things I had heard about how Kenyan men often times poorly treat their wives, the female teachers were non-verbally encouraging me -- it was almost as if this is something people know, but are not allowed to say. Of course the teachers in the school are very good people who believe moreso in equality, but just watching the reactions of the female teachers versus the male teacher was fascinating.
The next day I had to come back to Nairobi in order to renew my visa on Monday. I was able to meet up with a volunteer, Serena, who I met on the airplane coming here. She lives in Nairobi and is pretty much on her own, so it is nice for both of us to have company. Her office happens to be in the area where the sisters' house is, so she showed my around. Monday morning I renewed my visa without any problems (I was very blessed that the sister who is a secretary came with me since she knows all about these things). They took all 10 of my fingerprints, some twice! After, I took a bus and matatu home all by myself. I was very proud. As you wait for the matatu to fill up, people walk by the windows trying to sell you things. The first time I waited, I ended up buying a really cool tool set (if you are wondering why, so am I)(in my defense the things are quite cheap) and this time I "ended up" with a calculator. The students don't have them, and the one I use in the school is breaking, so it is something useful. I am just worried what I may come home with next time! A side note, I am comfortable calling Makuyu my home now.
Thursday I went to the town of Isiolo, towards the north of Kenya. Sister Pat had to go to help another Sister with a grant proposal, and since it's about a four hour drive it is better to have company. Also, I have some experience in writing projects, so I was able to offer assistance. The day before, the people had burned the marketplace in Isiolo (we confirmed it was safe before going, of course). It appears to be tribal conflict from the outside, but in reality I've been told that it's being spurred by the government wanting certain pieces of land to make Isiolo into a resort town. While we were meeting with the Sister, the nurse came in to tell her that one of the students was quite sick and needed to go to the hospital. The hospital in Isiolo has no ultrasound machine so she could not go there. The nearest town, Meru, is about an hour away. The girl ended up having to take a matatu to the hospital because the school has no vehicles.
So that's a little bit of the extra things I've been up to latey. More to come soon!

What do people need to know? That the chemical formula for table salt is one part sodium and one part chloride (NaCl)? Probably not. That mountain barriers contribute to weather patterns? Maybe. That impure water leads to illnesses such as cholera? Definitely. Education is the best way to reduce poverty, but I am not sure what type of education is the best.

In Kenya, there is primary school which consists of nursery through class 8 (like preschool or kindergarten through eighth grade) and secondary school (the equivalent of our high school). In 2003 primary school became free to attend, but is not required, nor is it really free. Children must still pay for uniforms and books, plus there is the lost opportunity of helping their parents in the garden. Secondary school is significantly more expensive, as are the technical schools where students learn a trade. The education a student gets depends a lot on how much money they have.

The students learn by rote memorization. In a way, they are forced to as everything depends on two national exams: one after class 8 and one after form 4 (last year of secondary). The form 4 exams take nearly a month, and the students do two tests a day in various subjects. The “marks” they earn throughout the rest of school (including at midterm) are also determined by standardized tests rather than homework or projects. The tests are all multiple choice, with the exception of composition. The teachers correct all of the tests, so I’m not sure if some schools misreport grades (I know there is rampant cheating, however and that some schools have teachers who help write the exams and others don‘t). Also, the tests and answer keys contain mistakes. The teachers go through them to check for mistakes, and I have noticed in the English exams many poorly written questions with ambiguous answers. In math there is no partial credit, and other subjects it is really about what facts you know. The teachers must teach to the exam in order for the students to pass. Class size is usually around 40 (even in Kindergarten) but can become as big as 60. I feel for the teachers of the lower grades who must control a class that big.

Also of note is that religious education is taught in every school, including government run ones. There is a choice between Christian and Muslim religious education.

Terms are set up differently than the U.S.-- they have three terms of three months each separated by a one month holiday. School runs from Monday - Friday but class 7 and 8 and secondary students come on Saturday mornings for “tuition” (like review of certain subject areas). During the long holidays some students also come for tuition.

Primary school teachers go through two years of “teacher’s college.” Government schools pay more than private, but teachers generally do not have large salaries. Apparantly in some places it is a major issue that teachers run businesses instead of teaching. Classes are mostly taught in English, although there is also the subject of Kiswahili. I’m not sure how I feel about the language -- the students would perhaps have an easier time learning if they could use their mother-tongue, yet it is important for them to learn English and Kiswahili if they want to have future careers. In the secondary school students are beaten if they are caught speaking anything but English. While corporal punishment is fairly uncommon, I still see teachers with sticks they may use to hit the pupils’ hands. I am completely against this.

Despite the problems, more and more children are coming to school (although attendance does decrease during planting seasons) and the opportunities for higher education are increasing. In Don Bosco, the mission run school where I work, has a fairly well-rounded education and I can see the teachers really care about the children.

Clothing

The style of dress here (as you may have guessed) is a bit different than in the U.S. While I am still able to wear pretty much all of my clothes, I have made some modifications. For example, I (well... my mother really) shortened the straps on my shirts before I left -- even the ones bought from the "old lady" section. If I wear a skirt I often wear leggings underneath to ensure it is long enough. Occasionally I will see people wearing tight clothes, but they never show their knees or their shoulders.
The Leso/Khanga is a staple part of attire for women. It is a thin piece of cotton cloth that you wrap around your waist and it covers your skirt/pants to keep them from getting dirty. They have every kind of decorations, and many have Swahili sayings like "Getting pregnant isn't work, raising the child is!" or "A child is always a child to her mother." They have showed me how to tie mine many times, but I can never seem to get it to stay so I "cheat" by tucking it in.
Otherwise, the women generally wear skirts with blouses, often colorful. The female teachers in the school wear suits and the male teachers wear a button down shirt and nice pants. The clothing is very colorful and has fun patterns.
In Makuyu people only wear traditional dress for ceremonies and celebrations. But, in the Northern Part of Kenya you see people out tending their herds wearing many many beads and draped fabrics. The Gabbra men have something called a "shuka" which a patterned piece of material that feels a bit like a shower curtain sewed into a tube. They wear it like a skirt (or maybe more like a kilt). The Masaai beadwork is absolutely incredible, and symbolic -- it can show whether you are married, the oldest child etc. Some women only wear beads on the top, although this is becoming less common.
The hair is also important. In the primary school all the children are required to shave their heads as allowing long hair causes divisions between the rich and poor families. Intricately braided hair with decorations shows wealth. The older girls have many styles of braiding, and weaves and extensions are very popular. I am hoping to go to the "saloon" school here soon (they call hair stylists saloons and bars salons!) and have my hair done. It is quite amazing what they can do!