Last Day in Olives.

It was strange walking through the village for the last time, trying to savour every last "How ahh yoo!" and imprint it in my memory. The effect was spoiled somewhat by my flipflop's tendency to flick mud in my face and a near heart attack when a large chicken leapt at me.
There were hardly any kids in school as it was the first day of the holiday programme, but a few more trickled in and we set off for a field trip to Fort Jesus. The kids were brilliant, really well behaved. When it was time to head off I said goodbye to Mr Tony and Mr Michael, both of whom said many lovely things.  I was looking around for Standard 5 when I heard Fikiri bellow "CLASS FIVE! TO THE CLASSROOM PLEASE!" He took me firmly by the arm and politely requested that I follow him. Bemused, I walked into the class to find the kids sitting in a circle waiting. Fikiri cleared his throat and began.
"Madam, when you work with a thief, you become a thief. When you work with a lazy person, you become a lazy person. But when you work with someone active, you become active. You Madam have been so active and so good and you have made standard 5 active and good also. Now we must have a new teacher, and what if they are lazy?"
"Or a thief?" interjected Joseph Katana.
I welled up slightly and reassured them that it was their choice to work hard and be respectful and that they would be a wonderful class regardless of the teacher (who I am sure will be neither lazy nor prone to felony.) I hugged them all and they wished me a safe journey. As I walked out the gate feeling lonely, Joseph Reuben came running after me. He linked his arm in mine, smiled and said "Madam, you cannot walk alone on your last day. Let me walk with you." We walked to the end of the village and hugged, both of us a bit teary. I told him how proud I am of him and made him promise to behave himself if his new teacher is pretty. He laughed and told me to hurry back to make sure class 5 are being good, and that he knew I would remember them as they will remember me.
I almost made it home with my dignity intact until I heard a little voice call "Madam!" I turned around and saw Shaban, the tiniest, sweetest kid in St 5. He hugged me and I said it was my last day. He looked at me like I was a bit slow and said "Yes Madam, I know, that is why I have come." I thanked him and told him how much I will miss him. He nodded, hugged me again and ran off shyly. I walked home slowly, my heart breaking a little.
It was never going to be easy to leave, and it was such a lovely goodbye, I'm glad it was a nice last day. It hasn't really sunk in yet, I don't think it will until I'm actually on the plane. It's not goodbye for good though. I couldn't forget Olives if I tried.

Chris gets married-Kenyan style.

After planning for months to be well rested the night before Chris and Caroline's wedding, I ended up being dragged to Il Covo by the Irish hooligans across the road and not getting home til 4am. Dim memories of Winnie the Pooh hats and drunken charades on the beach keep resurfacing... Not the best start to an 8am wake up call for an all day wedding, but once I got up the excitement was enough to keep me going. We strutted our way to the gates (most of us wearing Muriel's dresses courtesy of Kongowea market) and were greeted by an endless line of boda bodas. We must have looked so bizarre whizzing through the village, Sex and the City meets Hells Angels.

 

The church service was incredible. Chris and his groomsmen (incuding a be-kilted and very nervous Craig) had to dance up the aisle to the whole congregation clapping and singing to African music. While we waited for the bride, the church choir performed songs and dances, including one kid in a football jersey and tie who mimed and danced like a professional. When Caroline arrived the groomsmen (all 7 of them) had to dance down the aisle one by one and dance back up with a bridesmaid on their arm. This took some time. 

When Caroline finally began to walk up the aisle, all the groomsmen started cheering and Chris was beaming. I got a bit teary as she smiled at him and walked over to her seat. After a lot more singing and the world's most hilarious Reverend (" We are here today to join these 2 in the state of holy..... (excrutiating pause, fumbling of notes)...marraige.") Caroline's parents took her hands and walked her over to Chris' seat to entrust her into his care. The vows were said and the rings exchanged under the reverend's careful instruction

. "Hold up her hand-no dont put the ring on yet! Hold up her hand and slide the ring on carefully-you know which finger? Good, good. You may now place the ring."

 

After the (4 hour!) service we trooped outside for the cake cutting ceremony,apparently a much more serious and official affair than in Western culture. While the band gently sang "Cut the cake, cut the cake" in Swahili, a church elder with a microphone invited Chris and Caroline to "Proceed systematically to the cake area." As they arrived, he helpfully announced "They have arrived at the cake area", and in case anyone was missing the enormity of the occasion, "They are now cutting the cake" as they began to-well-cut the cake.

At this point in the proceedings, a group of semi-clad, hugely muscled acrobats appeared, apparently accidentally inivited to do so by Chris' daughters the night before. As they were performing and the cake was being distributed (systematically of course) the cave kids showed up with a bag of fancy new uniforms and hopeful grins asking to perform THEIR acrobatics. Chris being the sweetheart he is, he gave them permission, and I beamed with pride as they calmly and confidently strutted out onto the stage in front of hundreds of people, along with Joseph Reuben who performed some spectacular flips and spent the rest of the afternoon ensuring his team were well fed and well behaved.

 

After the cake came the food, which I was more than ready for. The Olives kids performed a song and funky dance routine led by my class monitor Faith Joseph as harried caterers ran around trying to feed everyone. I managed to sneak a few plates for the Olives kids and cave kids, one kid sorrowfully explaining "Ramadan Madam" and stuffing chicken in his pocket for later. The speeches started around 4.30 as I finally sat down and began to doze off in exhaustion. Joseph Reuben kindly offered to walk myself and the other volunteers home, so we said our goodbyes to a still beaming Chris and Caroline and hugged the kids goodbye. I got home at 5, went to bed, and woke up at 8am this morning.

It was a beautiful day, 2 genuinely happy people sharing their day with an entire village of people full of love and hope for their future together. And all accomplished in a most systematic fashion. :) 

The Solar System

In an over enthusiastic attempt to make the solar system concrete and tangible, I brought a giant yellow exercise ball into Olives to use as the sun, along with a bag of crepe- papered footballs (and in the case of Saturn, plastic bags and a tea towel.) Walking through the village trying to work out how to carry the thing was a challenge. The usual parade of toddlers chanting "How ahh yoo, how ahh yoo?" came to a complete silence as I rounded the corner. They stopped, stared, and as one began to chant "BALLLI! BALLIII!!!" in disconcertingly deep voices. I quickly hoisted the thing above my head as their little hands began to stretch towards it with idolic fervour and legged it as they started to advance.

I managed to make it to school unscathed and brought Standard 5 to the field for their lesson. Hamisi held the sun (the only kid I trusted not to bounce it to oblivion) and the others took a planet each and stood in order. We went through each planet and discussed it, then the kid holding it had to walk in a circle around the sun (a very patient Hamisi) whilst turning slowly in a circle. All went well until we got to Uranus (a horrendously ill-chosen Joseph Katana.) It went something like:
"Good work Saturn, remember to keep turning! Are your arms ok Hamisi? Good work Mercury, try not to bump into-JOSEPH KATANA! DO NOT HIT JUPITER! JOSEPH! JOSEPH! JO-Jupiter, dont hit him back, I'll deal with it. Joseph, do you want to be Uranus or not? (Cue much sniggering.) Joseph, be careful, the rings falling off Uranus! (Sniggering descends into full scale snorting laughter. Hamisi laughs so hard he drops the sun, which bounces off a rock and hits Ayub in the face.)
"Ayub, bring it back. Ayub...Ayub...AYUB MTUNGA! IF YOU BOUNCE THE SUN TOO HARD ITS GOING TO BURST! YOU HAVE 5 SECONDS!...5...4...3...2... SAMUEL GET DOWN FROM THE TREE!...Well how did Mars get up the tree? Did you bounce it? I told you not to...what is it Bonface? What? No I don't have Mercury, you have Mercury...Bonface I don't know, check your pockets-AYUB! ONE MORE BOUNCE AND YOU GO BACK TO CLASS! JOSEPH KATANA PUT THE RINGS BACK ON URA-ON THE PLANET YOU'RE HOLDING! CLASS 5 SIT DOWN!"

I made it home with 4 planets tattered and torn. Uranus and Saturn had disintegrated into a sad little pile of pipe cleaners and tea towels and Mars was wedged up the tree.We never did find Mercury.....But Neptune remained intact, as did my sanity, and the kids are experts on space now. All that remains is to perfect my straight face for the next few weeks of Uranus jokes. :)

Aligning the planets correctly.

 

4 out of 9 planets revolving aint bad...

Last Day of Term.

Last day of term, I can't believe it. Everyone was still psyched up about the Olympics, especially when it was officially announced that the winners were none other than the awesome Team Tembo. :) My voice was hoarse from all the cheering but I didn't have to raise it, it was a really chilled out day.

I gave each of the kids a card I had made for them and a picture of the class.  I was expecting the usual "Maaaadam, this one has a bigger card than meeee," but they all went really quiet and read their cards. When they finished they all started laughing and chatting and swapped cards to read eachothers. Fikiri shouted "God bless you Madam! God bless you!" and all the girls rushed up to hug me. Even Hamisi hugged me! I told them how proud I am of them and they told me they'd never forget me. We walked up to the field together where both the boys and girls won their football games and I sat in the sun getting my hair plaited into a strange teepee-like structure by a bunch of giggling kindergarteners. It was a good day. :)

Class photo Take 1: Sensible poses.

Serious faces...

Class photo Take 2...

Class photo Take 3. :)

Maintaining calm and dignity.

The weird and wonderful Bonface Mwendwa.

Olives Olympics

So we got to the school, and it looked like this:

We waited for it to clear then quickly tagged and painted our teams. I was Team Elephant with 25 kids from Standard 7 to Standard 1. "Elephant" was too long and awkward to chant, so we settled for screaming the Swahili word "TEMMMBBBOOOOO!" in opposing teams faces instead. We actually managed to get the kids from the other teams to start chanting for Team Tembo, that didnt go down well. :) When we got to the field Mr Joseph led the proceedings with the aid of a megaphone held so close to his mouth that it muffled 90% of what he was saying, and I rounded up the giggling kindergarten kids as they ran repeatedly onto the pitch.

We ran the sack race-and won it. Then we won the wheelbarrow race.We came second in the 100 metres boys and tried to remain calm and non-competitive about the whole thing.

Before we could win anything else, the rain decided to make another appearance. It bucketed down, we had to leg it to the school dripping wet and smeared in rapidly melting paint.

We waited it out, went home and changed, and came back for more. We marched to the field through the mud, 500 kids chanting "Rain rain go away, come again another day!" at the tops of their voices.We couldnt have our egg and spoon race as the children in charge of the eggs had eaten them and lost the spoons, but we had our 3 legged race and then the tug of war. Our finest moment.

All my Standard 5 kids were screaming "Pull Madam, puuuuulll!" and boasting to their friends that their madam is strong like a man. Not sure how to feel about that one, but our team was mostly tiny girls and the team against us had huge Standard 7 boys, so I pulled alright.I pulled for Ireland! And aww yeah: we won!! I got home at 5.30 after an 8am start covered in mud, paint, grass and sweat, my voice gone from screaming and cheering. It was epic. :)

Cave Goodies!

Thanks to one of the volunteers, Jen, we had funds to buy loads of supplies for the cave classes, including a blackboard, basketball, and storybooks with pictures of Kenyan children that actually relate to their lives. The kids were so excited, they made me write "Property of Ngome Giriama' on every book so no one would take them! It was a lovely lesson, we learned about the continents, read "Handa's Surprise and answered questions, then unwrapped the basketball. That disrupted the tranquility somewhat. :) Next week is my last week in Kenya and I've been so worried that things would just fizzle out with the cave but all the other volunteers have gotten really enthusiastic about it and promised to keep up the lessons. It's going to be hard to leave,but at least I know they're in good hands.

Using our new blackboard

Checking out the new books.

Cheesy grin time. :)

Everyone say "Shiny new basketball!"

Standard 5

Three musketeers: Ayub, Winnie, Joseph K.

Zakiya and Faith singing the national anthem.

Blocking Madam Ceri's face for the photo.

Standard 1.

Relatively calm...

When I say they swing from the rafters, I aint being figurative.

Embrace the chaos!

Composition Time!

It's exam time down Olives way, compositions were first up. The blindingly exciting title "A Rainy Day" had everyone a tad panicked until I explained that they could still write about an interesting day they had, just pretend it was raining at the time. Pauline wrote a very moving account of the day she went swimming with Madam Miriam, conveniently skipping over the part where she sat on my head and almost drowned me.
My favourite bit was "Madam she swimmed fast fast to the wall. Are you fine Madam Miriam? asked Madam Trinity? I am not fine said Madam Miriam. There was a heart sadness in Madam Miriam and she made many coughing. I like for to swim with Madam Miriam."

Some of the best bits are the proverbs. The kids learn them off without ever learning when to apply them, and some make up their own bizarre versions. A few of my favourites:

"He was as happy as Sir Isaac Newton discovering force of gravity."

"She was as happy as a barren woman to whom has been borned a baby."

"I went into the bathroom for to make water in the frog's kingdom."

"They were as a Christian man who has seen Jesus walking and eating bread."

and the best:

"She was as confused as a pregnant rat crossing a tarmac road."

Words fail me. :)

Nervous Breakdown a la the Holy Spirit.

Today was intense. I was in class with Standard 5 when I heard noise and saw kids running across the yard. I heard Joseph Katana yell "Mr -s gone crazy, lets go!" and my kids rushed out too.
I followed them to find one of the teachers (who had recently just returned to Olives after a long break) standing in the doorway of Standard 6 screaming and shouting and beckoning the children. As I got closer I could make out that he was praying, calling upon the Holy Spirit to cleanse and forgive him. He was crying and frothing at the mouth, screaming like a man possessed-which is what he was claiming to be.

The kids stood gazing in fascination, the little ones coming to me for comfort,the older ones to laugh and snigger. One of the Kenyan teachers rang the headmaster and we tried to disperse the children. He went on and on for at least 20 minutes as we tried to move the kids away. It was only when Mr Stephen came and gently led the teacher to the staffroom that I realised that the Standard 6 classroom was full of hysterically sobbing children. His class had been sitting inside in terror the whole time.

Mr Stephen left the teacher in the staffroom with Mr Micheal sobbing "Jesus forgive me, Jesus forgive me" over and over and went in to calm down the Standard 6 kids. Myself and the other volunteers shooed the other curious kids away and tried to distract them with footballs. Standard 5 were their usual sensitive selves roaring "Why are they crying Madam? Is it because Mr- went crazy?" and doing horribly realistic impressions of the poor man. I managed to get rid of most of them but a few were still gawking in the windows.
It turned out that midway through his lesson the teacher had begun shouting and screaming and saying that one of the children had the devil in him. He began praying to cast the devil out and accusing other children of having the devil in them too. His class were terrified and began to cry, and thats when he began to summon the whole school. The poor man obviously had a nervous breakdown on a major scale, he's always been a bit nervous and on edge. It was quite unnerving to see him, really shook me up. The kids in his class were shaken but the rest of the school found it hilarious. Joseph Katana and Samuel have perfected their "Holy Spirit" routine and Standard 1 kept giggling and saying "Mr-was crying!" Hopefully the local teachers will treat it with the seriousness it deserves and make sure he gets appropriate help. The last I heard they were taking him to the church, but I think its medical help he requires rather than spiritual.
Just another day in Olives...

The Bits I Leave Out.

Someone mentioned to me recently that I tend to focus on the positive and that this blog is mainly about the triumphs and successes we've had and may not reflect the reality of how hard it can be. They meant hard as in hard for me, it was a compliment, not a criticism, but it got me thinking that maybe I'm not truly representing how hard life is for my kids.

 I talked about how great medical camp was, but not how every single day we have to treat kids with huge open wounds that at home would warrant a visit to ER, like the girl whose leg is infested with maggots because her mother refuses any treatment other than her own remedy of boiling water, or the little boy whose skull was rotting under his scalp, or the kids who show up late to class and sleep all day because they have malaria and thats no reason to miss school. I talked about how smart and energetic and funny the kids are, but I didn't mention how thin they are, how they fall asleep in class from sheer hunger and exhaustion, how they come from homes where the oldest girl sacrifices her education to care for her orphaned siblings and the oldest boy to find work to feed them.
I never mentioned the drought thats all over the news back home because honestly, I didn't know til I read it online. No one talks about it here because its not news here. Drought is a fact of life: millions of people will suffer and die, money will be pumped in to save a few and the West will feel satisfied and find a new cause. People here don't care that people are starving in Somalia, they're too busy trying not to starve themselves.
I blogged about the nightlife and how much I love dancing over here, but I left out the bit about the rake-thin prostitutes grinding themselves against elderly white men who smirk proudly at them, smug in the knowledge that their work colleagues and grandchildren will never know. I left out the bit about the girls in my Standard 5 class who get paid to "go to discos" and the knowing questions they asked during sex ed class.
I leave these bits out because they're images of the only Africa people ever see: famine, poverty, rape, genocide, AIDS, misery death. I wanted to show people the Africa I found: laughing, smiling, spiritual people who welcome strangers and give you the last of their food without a moments hesitation; bright, funny kids who burst with creativity. But I've done them a disservice. What makes their positivity and strength so incredible is the fact that it exists alongside the other Africa. They live with the realities of life and death every day and rather than being broken and resigned they live their lives gracefully and share what they can. I'm not trying to wax lyrical or idealise suffering: its all relative, their problems are normal to them and we're the ones living a life unimaginable. I just want to make sure I don't paint a rose-tinted view of the happy, smiling African. The Africa we see on tv is real, but it's not the only one. If you want to know about Africa, come and see for yourself.

Give me a G!! Give me an E! Give me an N E R A T O R! :)

Ladies and gentlemen, we have a working generator in the caves! We had music all afternoon for the acrobatic show and dance competition. I managed to get hit on the head 4 times with an American football and sit on a sharp rock, but I reclaimed some dignity with my epic gymnastic contortions. Still aching!

I miss Maweni!

Went to visit Maweni with my teaching partner Trinity today after school, it was weird seeing all the new Suas guys, keep expecting my old team to be there. Madam Gona was looking fabulous, told me shes going for more of a Rhianna than Michelle Obama look these days. The kids came up and shook our hands politely while murmuring in Swahili "Who is the new Mzungu?" Then I heard "MADAM MEEEERIYAMMM!" and saw a bunch of my old Standard 6 girls running towards me. I got a hug that nearly bowled me over and they made me show off my new Swahili. I also had to perform the Maweni rap a total of 4 times and got sucked into a rap battle with a Standard 8 boy who I managed to beat solely because he was laughing too hard to respond to my killa rhymes. :)

I also got a church invite from Madam Maria, a dinner invite from the volunteers, and promised to come on Friday for Irish day. The kids sang for us and informed me they'll be on the beach on Saturday to meet me. So no bikini for Madam Miriam this weekend! They waved us off after a lunch of goat stew and chapati, still singing after us.
I love my Olives kids, I'm so glad I'm there, but a little part of me will always miss Maweni.

Teaching the solar system-6B

Maweni kids

Standard 5 and Standard 1 update.

Today was one of those days when everything seems to run smoothly, despite a few wounds and shouting matches here and there. I was worried Standard 5 would be bored cos their reading comprehension was about sheep, but they were surprisingly animated on the subject, especially when Joseph Katana asked if sheep and goats could "sex a baby" and did quite a realistic impression of the act. This then led back to the subject of human/goat relations and I once again reiterated that it is unadvisable to "make the sex" with any kind of animal, even if you do own it.

We had a lively debate on the benefits of farming Merino sheep rather than Masaai (they have thicker wool while the Masaai sheep has better meat: we all learned a lot of valuable information today) and discussed the benefits of farming sheep rather than goats (sheep are dumber and easier to manage.) Library class was also pretty cool, they kept calling me over to show me their books and exclaiming over dinosaurs ("They lived before people Madam?! How do we know they did if we never saw them?!"), penguins (" Madam, these birds, can you eat them? They must be easy to catch, it says they cannot fly") and parachuting ("Madam why are these people doing this foolish thing? They will fall and splat like mucus.")

Standard 1 were good too, we wrote our news (everyone spent the weekend praying apparently, quite a devout bunch of 6 year olds) and practised our handwriting. I got a bit teary when we tried to think of words beginning with b. When I first tried to get them to do it in January they came up with "ball", "banana", and after 10 minutes of me gesticulating frantically, "bag'. Today we got 41 words! Without any help from me, and including such gems as "bless", "bandage", "basketball" and "bounce". I was so proud of them and they were chuffed with themselves, we had a clap and a singsong to celebrate."Bottom" caused as much hilarity for Standard 1 as Joseph's goat sex impression had for Standard 5. Ah, kids. So precious. :)

Moses Jr and Raphael, St 1

Pauline, Rael, Molly and Anna, St 5

The famous Joseph Katana and Samuel Kizito, St5

My angel

Earlier this month at a visit to the cave I asked why they no longer had any music and discovered that the generator had broken and they needed 8000 shillings (80 quid) to get a new one. I asked around and all the volunteers chipped in. Last week I gave it to Katana, the guy who runs the youth club, and he thanked me and said they would have the generator for this weekend. During the week another youth club leader, Juma, texted me to say they would have a present for me, I got all excited and assumed it was the generator.

When we got to the cave (me and all the new volunteers, wazungu on parade!) they asked us to sit on the performance platform.  We were a bit puzzled but obliged, and Juma stood up and made a speech about how grateful they were to have our company and friendship. Then he gestured towards me and said "Miriam, you have done so much, we have little to give you but we wish to show our thanks." He handed me a handcarved stone angel and everybody started clapping as I burst into tears like an ejit. :)

It was so lovely and unexpected,I love going to the caves and seeing the kids, its not a sacrifice or something noble. They're there every single day devoting the little free time they have to helping any kid who has no place to go or no one to look out for them. The new generator was there too-broken! They're bringing it back to get it replaced tomorrow and they had an old radio instead, so we still got to dance. They had brought professional tribal musicians to play in our honour as well, we stayed for hours dancing and playing with the kids. The kids showed off their acrobatics and we were once again forced to attempt to limbo as the ridiculously bendy children giggled at the stiff wazungu.
The cave was full again-with volunteers, locals and kids playing, dancing and laughing. It was so cool to be a part of that, to get past being The Mzungu, to just be Miriam.
I'm so so happy right now. :)

Acrobats in action

My Friday

Friday is swimming day for standard 5, always an interesting endeavour. Particularly so this week as I nearly drowned. One of the older girls swam out too far and grabbed onto a volunteer in panic, dragging her under the water. I went over to help and held out a float, but she grabbed me instead and pushed me under. She had her hands on my head, I couldn't breathe, move or see. The other volunteer was still trying to get her breath back and pull the kid off me, but she wasn't strong enough. I kept trying to resurface but I couldn't get up from beneath her.
It was terrifying. I genuinely thought I was going to die in a pool full of people who just hadn't noticed because we weren't making any noise. Eventually I managed to push the child off and find the wall. I hauled myself up and wheezed like a beached whale for about 10 minutes, much to the consternation of everyone else who had no idea what had happened. I thought I was going to have an asthma attack, I was shaking and my chest felt like someone was punching it from the inside. I managed to reassure the kids before sneaking into the loo to hyperventilate and reassure myself that I was actually alive.

So not a great start to the weekend, but I was so thrilled to be still breathing that I made the most of our night out. We started dancing around midnight and I was still on the dance floor at 5am after only 3 Fanta breaks. It was one of those nights when you forget theres other people on the dancefloor and just dance and dance like the music's in your veins, like you'll die if you stop, regardless of how cheesy or repetitive the music actually is. We stopped at 5.30 for cheeseburgers and I convinced everyone to come to the beach to watch the sunrise.
We got there at 6am and there were already people swimming and running, setting up stalls, getting ready for the day. We found a quiet spot and snuggled up for warmth listening to the blues on someones phone. A couple of people got tired and left, but 3 of us stuck it out and got to see the sun blaze into the sky and across the water. It's funny to think that sunrise is something thats happened every single day of my life yet I've rarely seen it. I went for a walk along the water's edge as the sun began to fill the sky and the water turned orange. Drowning, dancing and sunsets on the beach: my Friday in Mombasa. :)

Hamisi

One of the great things about being here long term is that you get to see the progress of individual kids. When I met Standard 5 in January, Hamisi was the quiet, nervous kid who sat in the back of the class and read his Kiswahili Bible during lunchtime. He jumped if I spoke to him and the other kids laughed when I asked him to read aloud, causing him to pretend not to hear me and tie his shoelace or start writing. He had quite poor English and was the only one in the class who went for one to one reading, making him a target for the kids to poke fun of.
When we drew up our classroom rules we agreed that laughing at people was against the rule to be kind to eachother and from then on, anyone who made fun of Hamisi (or anyone else) was sent out of the classroom. I started asking him to read sections I knew he could manage without difficulty and got him to read a line or 2 more each time. Two of the older boys, Joseph Reuben and Fikiri, took Hamisi under their wing and began to threaten anyone who mocked him. He gradually grew less afraid of reading in class and one day, about a month ago, I asked for volunteers to come up and do a guessing exercise in English-and Hamisi raised his hand! It was the first time he ever volunteered for anything, I was so chuffed. Since then he's been coming on more and more, reading constantly in his spare time and asking if he doesn't understand something.

The best moment was last week when I got the kids to pretend to be news readers. They were in teams of 3-news, sports and weather-and each kid had to write a report and read it at a desk in front of the class. Two kids were too shy and when Hamisi's team came up I was afraid he would be too, I started mentally berating myself for putting him on the spot.
He sat down, looked at his notes, then calmly set them on the desk, looked around the room and said in a clear, confident voice: "Welcome to KTC News. I am Hamisi. Weather tomorrow will from 3pm to 6.30 be sunny, then wind from 12 to 4am. After that, rain, then again sunny. Thank you."
The room went silent. One kid whispered something incredulously in Swahili and I caught the word "HAMISI?!" Then in a spectacularly cheesy Disney movie moment, the kids all started clapping spontaneously as Hamisi beamed and took his seat. I was grinning like an idiot, I was so proud of him.

If anyone reading this used to teach Hamisi, thank you for your hard work and for not giving up. You guys put in the ground work and now I'm getting to see the results. I hope that the next volunteer Standard 5 gets is able to see even more progress, for him and all the kids. As westerners we come to expect instant results but thats not what Olives is about. It's the gradual changes that will last, and if we don't get to see them happen while we're here it doesn't mean we've achieved nothing, only that the next volunteer will benefit from and hopefully build upon our hard work.

Hamisi

Corporal Punishment

I've been avoiding writing this entry, but I want this blog to be an honest account of my time in Kenya and that has to include the bad as well as the good. Corporal punishment has been illegal in Kenya for over a decade but is still a normal part of Kenyan society-and school life. Obviously, GVI does not condone it, but it still happens behind our backs and its a constant struggle to persuade local teachers (all of whom I respect and like on a personal level) that beating a kid is not the only way to gain their respect.

It came to a head the other day when I sent 2 of my Standard 5 kids outside for messing (anyone who knows St 5 can guess which 2!) and they ran back in 10 minutes later sobbing hysterically and curled up at their desks. It took me a few minutes to decipher that one of the new teachers had found them and caned them.
 I'm not good with confrontation, it makes me feel physically sick, but I was so angry I was literally shaking. I walked up to the teacher before I could lose my nerve and asked if he had caned them. He nodded and I told him that while I appreciated him trying to help me (that was hard to choke out) I don't cane my students as it is illegal and I morally object to the hypocrisy of telling children not to be violent and then beating them til they scream. He looked a bit surprised and then said he hadn't caned them, just made them kneel on the hard ground. I said regardless of what he had done it was my class and I can discipline my own students my own way and that I'd appreciate if he didn't interfere in future. I walked away to tell a staff member and managed to get outside the school gate before I burst into angry tears.

Later that day I found 1 of my tiny Standard 1 pupils sobbing under her desk and discovered she had been beaten by a teacher I have great respect for and consider a friend. I understand that he genuinely loves the kids and sees beating them as being cruel to be kind, its the only method of discipline he's ever been shown, but it's hard sometimes to separate my feelings towards him from my feelings about caning. I spoke with the staff that night and they agreeed that something needed to be done. GVI arranged a meeting with the teachers on discipline and I attended with 2 staff members. I was apprehensive and pretty pessimistic about getting any results.

I was pleasantly surprised by the headteacher's reaction though. Mr Stephen said that he was beaten in school and it made him fear and hate the teachers who hurt him. He said we need to encourage children to respect us through mutual trust, not violence, and asked me and the staff how we manage our classes. I had the chance to talk about classroom management techniques and alternative ways of disciplining students and some of the local teachers made suggestions too. I had been worried it would seem like we were judging and lecturing them and just get their backs up, but they all seemed receptive and interested. We agreed that the teachers and volunteers all need to set firm boundaries and enforce the rules but in a non-violent way.
I'm not expecting dramatic changes overnight: this is Africa! But the fact that Mr Stephen made his position clear after a long time of ambivilence means at least it's being reinforced by their own management and it's not just GVI imposing a western approach. The teachers all genuinely love the kids and want whats best for them, they just need to see that caning is not the only way to get results.
I'm hopeful. :)

Cave lessons

At the caves last week I had the kind of lesson that reminds me why Im here. I brought a box of colouring pencils, paper and reading books and stumbled my way down the steps to find 8 kids sitting patiently on the dance podium. I showed them the goodies and they gasped and clapped their hands in excitement. One kid clasped his hands together and whispered "Thank you Lord Jesus!" We sat down and talked about our families, then wrote about it and drew pictures. The kids all worked away as I walked around and checked their work.
3 of the kids were very little and didnt have any english, so I gave them an alphabet jigsaw to do. When I went to check on them there was an 8 year old boy sitting with them pointing to the letters and getting the kids to call them out. By the end of the lesson he had them singing the alphabet song! As the older kids finished their work I gave them books to read and without me having to ask they went to the younger kids and read to them. More and more kids appeared and just settled into the lesson and I sat in the middle and watched them teach eachother and work away, sharing their pencils and tearing paper in half to share it. The sun was streaming down through the leaves and the crickets were chirping in the background as 22 street kids bent over their books and read together. It was a perfect moment.

Swimming lessons!

So we had our first swimming lesson with Standard 5... :) On the walk to Sanana gym we asked the kids if they could swim and got confident "Yes Madams!" from at least 10 of the 13. Then we got in the water and watched as they proceeded to flail wildly in panic or slowly sink to the bottom.

We managed to organise them into advanced (Those who could stay afloat without drowning) and beginners ( those who clung wildly to my leg and screamed when the water splashed them.) We practised holding our breath under water, kicking our legs while holding the float, and staying afloat without crippling Madam Miriam. Joseph Katana somehow managed to always start kicking juuust as I passed behind him. Bless his cotton socks. I accidentally splashed him back after the 5th time. :) 

It was so much fun, I cant wait for next Friday. Although I may invest in goggles and waterproof armour...

Swim Juliana, swim!

Staying calm and in control... :)

Teaching Winnie to float.

Persuading Gilbert to get in.

Medical Camp

We managed to get in touch with the local AAR emergency medical centre and they volunteered to come to Olives for a day of free medical care for the whole village including consultation, treatment, counselling and most ambitious of all-free on the spot HIV testing. The local villagers were shy to come at first but Mr Joseph got on his megaphone and blared welcome messages throughout the village as the kids persuaded their parents to come along.
The day started at 8am and went on til 5.30. I got there at around 2pm to find the schoolyard full of people waiting patiently as AAR staff and offered diagnoses, prepared medicine, performed HIV tests and counselled those whose results were positive. The volunteers slotted in where needed: filling in paperwork, dispensing drugs, entertaining the scores of children milling around bored. I read stories and amused the whingy toddlers while their parents went for their HIV tests. I went for one myself and it was really nervewrecking waiting to see if the test would show one line for negative or two for positive. It must be terrifying for someone who suspects they might be positive.
We got through about 400 people that day and AAR have promised to come again. Thats 400 people getting treatment they could never otherwise afford. For me the most encouraging thing was that most people went for the HIV tests, despite the fact that their neighbours and friends were all within earshot. In a country where AIDS is still stigmatised to the point of possible ostracisation, thats a huge step. It was one of those days where change doesnt seem so impossible after all. :)

HIV Counselling session

Me and my Olives homies.

Ian, David and Joshua-masala mango time!

My man, Ayub ( the kid who asked about goat sex)

Chillin with Raphael and Brian

Best Kid Quotes.

Thanks to my sex ed class, every science lesson now contains at least 3 questions on sex, babies and anything that might make Madam Miriam blush or snort.

"Do bees have vaginas?"

"Why do the worker bees go out and work instead of staying home to breastfeed their babies?"

"Do flies have vaginas?"

Do frogs have vaginas?"

"Can mens get pregnant from sexing in the anoose?"

"Can a man and a goat make a baby?"

"Madam, is it true the plants are also making the sex? Do the plants have vagina?"


Confidence boosters:

Upon hearing that I am not married and dont have a baby: "Ah, Madam, I am sorry, I will pray to God he will give you husband and many babies and you will be happy!"

"Madam, you are very strong and fat."

"Ah, Madam, your hair is grey like an old womans but your arms are fat like a baby!"

"Madam! Madam! Can I squeeze your pimple and make it go pop?"

"Madam, your valentine, he is in your country?" "Yes." "What if he finds a wife while you are gone?"

"Why is your face red and shiny?"

"You are very fat Madam! Very fat. Yes, very very fat."

Random weirdness:

"Madam, I will not see you on Monday. The man on television said the world it will end on Saturday, so I am not doing my homework."

"When I am grow up I wish for to be like God."

"Madam!!!!! MADAM!!!!! This boy has given me a piece of paper with my name on it and I do not know why!"

(when asked to write a letter to a bank manager as an english exercise) "Madam, I must go home." "Why Shaban, whats wrong?" (kid on point of tears.) "I must go to ask my mother: I do not know the name of my bank manager Madam!"

"This one is polluting!" (Kenyan slang for farting, a regular cry in Olives classrooms.)

"Madam, Mr Joseph he told us when mzungu pollutes it is smelling like cake." Whole class: "Pollute Madam! POLLUTE!"

Tadpole City Baby!

The schoolyard is still a lake, the rain is still pouring but the frogs appear to have gone elsewhere, much to the dismay of the crows. They have, however, left a legacy behind them. I was staring  mindlessly into the water trying to plan a science lesson when I noticed what I thought were millions and millions of tiny black seeds. On closer inspection the seeds appeared to have tails and were wriggling quite furiously. I looked across the yard and realised that in the space of 4 days, the 20 or so frogs I'd be turfing out of classrooms had succeeded in spawning hundreds of thousands of teeny tiny tadpoles. The water was teaming with them, even the puddles were full of frantically thrashing wrigglers.

Having recently done a lesson on the life cycle of the frog, I realised Id found my science lesson. I ran into class and told Standard 5 we were going to conduct a long term observation of the life cycle in action. We all trooped outside and the kids stared in fascination at the real life version of my badly drawn tadpoles. One kid refused point blank to believe they were frog babies, stating kindly and condescendingly that they were fish. We managed to procure a bucket from somewhere (I asked no questions) and filled it with water and tadpoles. Our classroom is now the proud owner of a tadpole tank. I had to stop the kids fishing them out though, they kept trying to see their eyes and gills. I explained that for the tadpoles to live long enough to grow visible gills and eyes, they would have to avoid the repeated trauma of almost dying. The tadpoles were replaced, but not before Joseph Katana demanded a photo op "To see the size of the tadpoles to show again when they're bigger Madam."

Its the weekend now and everybody's praying for sun so we can make it to the beach. Everyone except me that is. I keep thinking of those determined little wrigglers and secretly hoping their home doesn't dry up too soon...:)

You can stand under my umbrella...