Friday, June 24, 2016

Last night was not a good night. I’ll start out by saying that the Rotary House is more like a Bed & Breakfast.  Much like you’d expect a Bed & Breakfast in a 3^rd world country.  It’s very clean and very safe and the food is wonderful.  It was designed, however, for visiting students, nurses and doctors.  It was designed for Kenyans.  There’s a community shower and toilet – the latrine outside wasn’t necessary, but it was a good fall back position.  There are probably several jokes that can come out of that last line, but I’m just too tired to put them to good use. 

The bed was about 12” too short for me, so it facilitated the fetal position I slept in.  The intestinal issues I’ve been having since yesterday are refusing to go away despite being very unwelcome.  The Cipro that I left in the US is now top on my wish list and I’ll be sure to accept the offer that Jessica made yesterday.  The perks of staying at a Kenyan B&B owned by a nurse.  Even with the fetal position, sleep did not come easy; and it didn’t last long either.  I think my eyes finally closed at 3:30am followed by an intestinal alarm clock at 5:30.  I knew it was going to be a long day.

I showered and emerged to the breakfast table at 7:30.  The containers of food were already there waiting to be opened, but the only thing I was remotely interested in consuming was a banana.  I never even opened the other bowls to see what was inside. Isaac came out soon thereafter, as did Jessica.  I borrowed a pair of scissors to cut the terry cloth that I had so that we could distribute pad supplies to 2 schools.  I was trying to stay busy because that kept my mind off the cramps I was having.  No, the whole “cramping” and “pad project” combo is not lost on me.

We left a few minutes after 8 to pick up Job and head out to Kombewa (comb-bay-wah) and Kitare (Kee-tah-ray) Mixed Primary School.  It was a cool morning, but nothing like Narok.  It was probably in the low 70’s.  It was an hour drive from where we were staying, so I packed a suitcase with everything that we needed for both Katare and the Clinic Grand Opening.  The suitcase contained yards and yards of flannel, pul and terry cloth for our first stop, and bags of small knit/crocheted baby hats, booties and mittens.  These were provided by members of our church in Fairport – Church of the Assumption.  Complete strangers making small tokens of love and caring without realizing the lives they were going to be changing.  More on that later… first, Kitare.

As I probably said before, our friend Caleb is a teacher there and he contacted us to inquire about implementing the pad project at his school.  His familiarity with the project was beneficial as he already had most of the things necessary for it too succeed – adequate space to use and safely store the trundle sewing machines, staff and parents willing to volunteer their time to teach the students to sew, and, most importantly, a large number of girls in need of pads.  It’s estimated that girls can miss up to 20% of their classes due to the societal problems associated with menstruation.  The girls that don’t wish to fall prey to such a statistic walk a short distance to the lake to beg the fisherman for money to by disposable napkins.  It’s important to note that fisherman don’t easily part with their money.  Connecting those dots is very disturbing… all this, just to stay in school. 

The last 20 minutes of the trip was all dirt road.  There would be nice long sections that were flat, but then there would be ruts and and large protruding stones that would require some expert navigation by Isaac.  Watching him operate the wheel was like watching a pirate operating the helm in high seas – hard turns left then right to avoid jagged stones and ruts deep enough to dislodge the car’s bumper.  The first time you experience it, it’s mind boggling, but now as we approach those areas I don’t give it another thought.

As we entered the gate at Katare, Caleb was waiting in the courtyard waving to us from the tall grass on the other side of a large field.  The school sits on a large piece of land and from a distance the structure looks like a typical school.  Upon closer inspection, however, you can see that it is very well maintained.  That starts with the leadership both here in the school and at home.  The classrooms were clean and the students incredibly well behaved.  I could have used Andrea, Katie or Karen on this visit.  A white face is pretty rare in these parts, so when you stick it on a two meter frame it can be rather imposing. 

After meeting with the staff and signing the Visitor’s Book, we exited the administration portion of the building.  The courtyard that was once empty was now lined with students lined up for an assembly; curious to see the new visitor.  Their formation made it appear that they were in a large rectangular room with invisible walls – perfect 90º corners.  They stood two to three rows deep, organized by grade. Frederick, the headmaster, spoke first and had each class raise there hands as he called to them.  “Waya eez my clahss fo?” he would ask, and hands shot up in the air. He went through them all, ending with the ECD  who were huddled together at the invisible wall to my right.  They were the only ones figiting, and even that was relegated to a slight spinning back and forth – their feet planted firmly in the soil.  Frederick then asked me to come into the center to introduce myself and say a few words.  This is always the most uncomfortable part for me.  As I walked passed him and found myself staring at the blank faces and was reminded the one out-of-lace here.  

My goal is always to make children laugh when I see them because it’s the quickest way to put their minds at ease.  The first time they see me, however, they are always wary.  While some are wide-eyed and curious, the vast majority were guarded and emotionless.  This was a tough crowd – even when I started juggling I didn’t get much of a reaction.  When I began speaking their tribal language (Dholuo) they loosened up a bit, but I finished my speech before they had the urge to throw rotten tomatoes, deciding that it would be better to see how I could do when I saw them in smaller groups.

The angry mob was disbursed. The children then went back to their classrooms and my tour began.  I followed Frederick into each class and was introduced to the teacher before beginning to speak to the class.  This definitely worked better.  The students were engaging and full of smiles.  I don’t know who I speaking to earlier, but I liked these children!  I inquired about their favorite subjects and what they were currently studying.  I encouraged them to work hard and follow their teacher’s instructions.  I talked about coming back with my family, and that ALWAYS elicited excited responses – big smiles accompanied by rapid clapping.  I’d end by saying goodbye before moving onto the next class.  The boys seemed to have more reservations than the girls did.  They only let their guard down after I squeezed myself into a desk with them.  When I tried the same maneuver with the girls, they would put their heads down and giggle, using their hands to hide their smiling faces.  I looked like an absolute giant in the small desks.  

In the next classroom there was a small boy who had a series of paper boats lined up on the desk in front of him.  It took me a minute to learn that he wasn’t responsible for these creations, rather, it was the boy in front of him.  I asked him to teach me, and without saying a word or giving away any expression, he asked for a piece of paper and began making a series of seemingly unending folds in the paper.  This was much more involved than a paper airplane.  When his finished, the classroom cheered as he handed me the finished product.  Only then did he smile.  I praised him for his work which elicited a slight nod from him.  It was a subtle acknowledgement of appreciation, and a perfect ending to my time with class 5.

When I met the 7^th graders, there were three “fellow” giants in the room.  It looked like a picture of Bill Russel’s 6^th grade class.  These three were head, shoulders and torso over the majority of their classmates.  Every time we would enter a classroom, the pupils would stand up and say hello.  “Good moaning teachah.”  A brief exchange would follow before I asked them to sit down. “Keti, keti,” I would say.  (pronounced Katie, Katie).  This time I asked everyone to sit except the three tallest.  I requested that the three join me in the front of the room for a picture as I joke with them.  Everyone was still giggling as they returned to their seats and we began our exchange. 

The 8^th grade class was unmistakably identifiable.  They were confident and engaging.  Our conversation was very different from the others.  I told them that whether they realized it or not, they are setting the standard for those that come after them.  They push the class behind them to do better.  They set the bar, and they continue to set it high.  Just as they chose to increase their national test scores over their predecessors, they will push the 7^th graders to do the same next year.  As I spoke, you could see their pride expressed as their shoulders moved back and they sat up taller in their seats.

Next, we had to cross the yard away from the main building to a smaller 2 classroom block where the 3^rd graders and kindergarten classes were.  They needed to be moved because the government is insisting that all primary schools teach a computer class.  They come in and tell all the schools that they need a dedicated room for computers with a deadline when to have the room ready. 

Do they ask if they can accommodate the command?  No

Do they give them instructions on how to reconfigure their school? No

Do they let them know that they’ll be helping to bring them electricity? No

Do they tell them that they’ll provide computers? No

Telling the communities that their children are going to be learning how to work with computers looks great on paper.  They started this initiative last year.  I have yet to hear about any school receiving a single computer.  Their’s is not to question why…

I entered Class Three and immediately informed them that they were Karen’s favorite class.  Brilliant white smiles emerged.  We talked about sports and how they like their school before heading next door to the “baby class.”  These kids were just adorable.  The normal wooden desks were replaced with small resin chairs or mats on the floor.  They looked up at me as if they were wandering through Times Square for the first time.  I walked to the front of the classroom and sat down on the dusty cement floor.  It was as if the entire room stopped holding their breath and exhaled.  They all moved a bit closer to me as I patted the tops of their heads, stroked their cheeks and tickled their feet.   I took the camera from Job and snapped a few shots before turning the camera around and showing them the picture.  That’s always met with absolute joy!  The kindergarteners were broken into two groups, so I duplicated the process for the next group.  There were lots of hand slaps and high fives.  When we finished, I was smiling wider than they were. 

We headed back to the main building and went inside to sit down.  They knew we were on a tight schedule so I was assuming we’d be discussing the pad project then leaving.  Not a chance.  Kenyans are waaaaay too hospitable.  We were informed that members of the school board and a small group of parents would like to “greet” us.  That usually means a lot of talking.  Kenyans are quite formal (and regimented) when it comes to gatherings/meetings of this nature.   We sat in wooden chairs arranged in a circle along with the board members.  Behind us stood the teachers and parents of some of the students.  The headmaster rose and introduced himself and his teachers, pointed out the board members and parents and thanked them for coming.  The board chairman then stood up, introduced himself and his membership, pointed out the teachers and the parents and thanked them for coming.  Then the deputy (assistant principal) stood up and introduced himself and his teachers, recognized the board members and parents, and thanked them for coming.  Job was then asked to rise and introduce us to everyone.  Thankfully, Job understands that we have a schedule to keep and is not afraid to dispense with formality.  He asked me to stand and say a few words, so I did.  I thanked the staff for the invitation.  I thanked the them and the parents for being such good role models and raising such wonderful children because only through their combined efforts can such good behavior be fostered.
As I returned to my seat, I noticed the ECD class appear out of nowhere.  They were standing in a row with a little organizational I turned to Job on my left who looked at me as if we were about jump out of an airplane.  His eyebrows were high on his forehead and his expression was a mix of fear and despair.  Without saying a word we said, “We’re going to be late to the Grand Opening.”

We were informed that everyone was aware that we had to leave but the children wanted to do a brief “skit.”  It was absolutely adorable!  It’s a four minute clip, so it’s a little long, but I defy you not to smile and laugh when you get to the 3:05 mark... the last 15 seconds are just as priceless.  It's worth it to watch the entire clip just to see the children in the background.  The little girl that led the show is a firecracker.  She and Karen are going to be best of friends.

If that wasn’t enough, a group of older girls emerged with another skit about Al Shabaab.  It was an impassioned request for peace and a fitting closing to the ceremony.

We all rose for a closing prayer.  Afterward, I grabbed Job and Isaac and we walked briskly to the car to remove the sewing machines and supplies.  We spoke with the teacher who will be coordinating the project.  She’s was identified as the only female teacher in the school, but I think she’s the only one paid for by the government.  The parents pay for the women in charge of the ECD classes.  Regardless, I told her I would call her “Madam Only.”  She liked the idea.  

We were about to finish our goodbyes when Caleb asked us to join him inside for a moment.

BRIEF INTERLUDE

Kenyans are incredibly vague when it comes to time and distance.  They never describe anything in hours or kilometers.  “a moment” is a relative term, as are the following:

“It’s just over here” = 1 to 3 miles

“It’s just over there.” > 3 miles

“The morning hours” = 8am – noon

“The afternoon hours” = anything after noon

You can’t nail down Kenyans on anything pertaining to either of these subjects.

For example, I’ll set the scene.  We’re riding in the car from the Rotary House talking about our schedule for the next day.

Adam: “Job, how far are we from Kitare.”

Job: “It is very far.”

Adam: “What time should we leave?”

Job: “The morning hours.”

Adam: “Will we have time to get back for the clinic opening?”

Job: “That will be in the afternoon hours.”

Adam: “When?”

Job: “In the afternoon.”

Adam: “Wait, where’s the school.”

Job: “It’s just there.” (hand outstretched emphasizing “there”)

Adam: “Okay, and when is the governor arriving for the grand opeing?”

Job: “The afternoon hours.”

Adam: “Great, thanks for clearing all that up for me.”

Job:  “No problem, sir.”

Job is Bud Abbott, and I’m Lou Costello (everyone under the age of 30, please search youtube for “Who’s on first?”)

NOW BACK TO BUSINESS

When we walked inside we were led into the teacher’s room where the table was set up with chicken, ugali, skumawiki, cabbage and bottled water.  Lunch time.  Good thing we’re not in a rush.  I stopped dead in my tracks and before I could turn around to face Job, he said, “Oh no, sir.”  Again, I didn’t after look at his face, I heard the despair.  So as not to offend, we made it VERY brief.  So as not to offend my stomach, I had a piece of ugali that was about the size of a plum and bottle of water.  The others filled a plate, but we all finished at the same time.  This time we were leaving.  No ifs, ands, or… oh, come on!  Seriously?!  In came Frederick with some more requests.  I listened to his please as I moved toward the car.  I shook hands with everyone as we walked, and got into the car – Isaac already had the car in drive, waiting to make our escape.  Just to be safe, I didn’t roll down the window until we were off the school grounds.  15 minutes later, i was starting to get the nods, and Job was out cold.

We rushed to get back to the clinic in time for the ceremony.  We rushed for no reason.

We arrived around 2:15, and the governor had not yet arrived.  This entire shindig was his idea, so as the “master of ceremonies” we were in a holding pattern.  The Israel Church of Africa had already completed a prayer service in the church behind the clinic, and had moved down by the primary school to sing while they waited.  We drove into the courtyard in front of the clinic where other “less senior” government health officials were gathered with the clinic staff.  I already knew some of them because they had been to the clinic and had given us advice during it’s construction.  We sat and talked for them while we waited.  We walked around and took note of much the trees we planted had grown.  Again, trying to keep myself busy I tried to keep Job and Isaac amused.  It wasn’t working. 

 

The two hours of sleep the night before was not pairing nicely with my stomach pain.  I’m not sure how green I was, but the two of them insisted that I go lie down.  “I’ll be okay,” I said, “I just need some water.”  I retrieved my water from the car, and when I closed the trunk, Job and Isaac were joined by Peter, the clinic’s lead doctor.  The three of them were staring at me in disapproval before Peter said, “You need to lie down.”  He took me to his residence “Hanna’s Home” next to the clinic and had my lay down on his bed.  “We’ll come get you when it begins.”  Job and Isaac left last, clearly worried about me.  They later told me that they checked up on me several times and were concerned that I didn’t respond to them when entered the room.  Job said, “I made Isaac check to make sure you were still breathing.”  That was comforting.  I also wasn’t aware of how long I was asleep.  Andrea called to see how I was feeling and woke me up out of my sound slumber.  It was 5:30 - I had slept for 3 hours!  After shaking out the cobwebs, I noticed that they were still singing down by the school.  When I looked out the window, the officials were still milling around the clinic with Job and Isaac.  The clinic staff were also patiently walking around caring for some people that arrived in need of care.

As I left the house, Job and Isaac came running over.  I was feeling much better, and they were both happy to hear it.  They informed me that the governor had still not arrived. He had been called away to deal with what can best be described as a "border dispute" between clans that had evolved into violence and injury.  By this point, we were all confident that he wasn't coming.  Our friend John Aguso had joined us in front of the clinic.

I took the time to hand over the computer to Peter who was very pleased to have it.  I was specific and deliberate in stating that it was for the clinic as opposed to being given to an individual.  The officials were also grateful as they were the ones doing most of the day-to-day communication with Peter and the lack of a computer made things cumbersome.

Then we removed the knit baby items from the car and I gave them to the most senior woman at the clinic.  She was very happy to see them, and not afraid to show her appreciation.  She gently handled each one saying what a difference these would make.  The men watching agreed with my assessment that they would be a great incentive to break the traditional cycle of in-home births.  This would then lead to improved post natal care, which would lead to more pre-natal care as word spread.  I talked about the group of women that made them, and Cindy in particular that really spearheaded the idea.  Strangers with a desire to help, changing lives with small tokens.  I know that these items will be cherished by the new mothers that receive them, and I can't wait to share photos of the new infants with the caring women that made their beautiful caps.

 John asked me to come sit with him on the stairs.  It took a moment for a selfie with him.  He may be in his 70's, but he's still a clown.  It's one of the many reasons my family is so enamored with him.  By this time, the crowd had been told that the governor was not coming so they all returned to their homes.  The small group at the clinic was disappointed that he wasn't coming, but were still in good spirits.  John asked me to come sit on the steps of the clinic for a bit.  As we did, a young boy entered the courtyard with two wrapped gifts.  He handed them to John who was uncharacteristically quiet.  That didn't last long.  He started telling me a story about the large mug that he uses to eat porridge in the morning.  The mug was a gift from Andrea.  He handed me the first gift.  "This is for Ann.  I want her to know how grateful I am for her.  Please take care and bring it to her." He wanted me to open it, but the crowd completely disagreed.  It's still wrapped and carefully

packed in my bag.  Next, he took the second package and gave it to me.  "You have been very kind to this community.  Your are truly one of us and we are grateful that you are here.  Your family is a part of our family.  We are brothers and sisters.  As the chairman of the Clinic Committee, I wanted to mark this occasion with a gift for you."  This time I was allowed to open it.  It was a beautiful painting of a leopard stalking some impalas.  I graciously accepted it, and echoed the same sentiment he shared.  The truth is, that this community welcomed us with open arms and we do feel as though

we are a part of them.They will always reside in a special place in our hearts.
I wasn't prepared for what came next!  A ribbon cutting ceremony that John insisted we do even though the governor was missing.  "When he comes, we'll get another ribbon!" he proclaimed.  I was the only one that laughed as he gave me a Cheshire Cat grin.  They brought out a pair of scissors and led me to the main wall at the top of the ramp.  A poster board size piece of paper was taped to the wall, and a purple ribbon was attached to the paper.  He said a short prayer and signaled that it was time to make the cut.  I joked that there are many videos on youtube show people not able to cut through the ribbon.  "Those will cut through.  They will."  I didn't doubt him.  The scissors I was holding felt like they could cut through steel.  Thankfully, it only took one try.  The group surrounding us cheered and clapped.  John lifted the paper to reveal the dedication plaque underneath. - the governor's name at the bottom of the brass plate.  "It will be here when he wants to come see it," he said as he let the paper fall back over it.
It was starting to get dark, so we all walked to the gate together and said our goodbyes before getting into the car.  I told John I would see him again on Sunday so we can have tea and catch up.  He was pleased to hear it.  We then went back to the Rotary House to collect our things.  job and Isaac insisted on moving me someplace more comfortable.  I packed quickly as we waited for Jessica to return.  Isaac talked to her about our change in venue and she understood completely.  She then provided me with some Cipro and electrolytes to help me recover.  "If this doesn't work in 24 hours, we'll go to the next step."  I inquired as to what it might be if it doesn't go away in 24 hours.  I didn't like the response, but rest assured, there's a pill for it.  Job and Isaac ate while I watched.  I managed to consume a banana before we left.  Dengu is not my thing when I'm healthy, so even the smell of it was not helping today.  Dengue is something along the line of a lentil soup; just add more lentils and remove some water.  It's just not my thing.  They rushed through dinner to get me in bed.
By the time we reached the Peacock Motel it was quite dark.  Job and Isaac insisted on carrying everything into the room.  They wouldn't even let me carry my backpack.  I said, "You really don't have to do this, I can," but before I finished my sentence, the responded, "You take good care of us when we're in your country, let us take care of you now that you are in ours."  I was moved by their response.  They brought me to my room and said, "No blogging.  Please Adam.  Just get some sleep.  You need to rest."  I followed the instructions to the letter.  I did, however, call Andrea first to let her know that we moved to the Peacock and update her on my health.  Her concern was palpable, but it wouldn't have been fair to keep it from her, despite her being on the other side of the globe and unable to help me.  She knew something was wrong when she talked to me earlier in the day, and I was definitely feeling horrible again. "Tomorrow's another day," I thought.  I said a quick prayer and thought about home as I fell asleep.  "Tomorrow's a new day."