Sisters of Charity

I had the most wonderful opportunity to spend the day with Mother Theresa's charity in Langata, Nairobi. The organisation is run by nuns from all over the world and they do amazing outreach into the slums and also have a home for severely physically handicapped children. The purpose of my visit was to help the nuns distribute christmas packages to 2000 women from the Kibera slum. It was a mamouth task. Firstly we had to haul 4000 bags of flour, 2000 bags of sugar, soap, nuts, buckets and other useful goodies into the patio area where we would hand the packages out. Then the logistical nightmare of getting 2000 women and their children into one area. This task thankfully wasn't mine but I was called upon to entertain the waiting crowds who were hot, uncomfortable and incredibly thirsty from waiting for hours in the blazing sun. There were about seven volunteers; five from Slovakia, one from Korea and me. We were all asked to sing a national Christmas song. The Slovakians sounded impressive as they all sung together and I felt pretty nervous about the prospect of my solo. However when the Korean started to sing 'We Wish You a Merry Christmas' I lept up next to him and joined him - no way was I going to let him nick my song!
While the woman continued to arrive I spent a couple of hours in the home with the handicapped children. Their disabilites were really quite severe and it was upsetting and challenging to be with them but it was a wonderful experience too. I fed the youngest child, Karen, who was emaciated and tied to a bed - not out of cruelty but for her own safety. It was a wonderfully run home, clean and bright and the staff clearly loved the children.
Once all the women were seated successfully (a difficult feat, especially as a group of them broke into a real fight!) we started to distribute the packages. I was in charge of handing each woman a bucket. I must have said 'Happy Christmas' two thousand times. It was hot and hard work but incredibly rewarding and a real priviledge to be a part of something like that. Seeing the gratitude and happiness in the women's faces made me realise that Father Christmas really does have the best job in the business.

Awazi

I had my most extraordinary and surreal experience to date when I spent four days with the family of one of the teachers I've been working with. Charles invited me to stay with his family in Awazi months ago and I'd looked forward to the visit with a mixture of trepidation, aprehension and intrigue. I had no idea what to expect. All I knew was that they lived about six hours from Nairobi towards Kisumu (one of the biggest towns in Kenya). Whether they lived in a town or in the countryside, in a mansion or mud hut, I could only guess at.
On the day we were to leave I met Charles early in the morning in the centre of Nairobi where we caught the coach that was to take us to Awazi. It was all very civilised and comfortable but I was comforted to see that we still had a few chickens as fellow passangers so the experience wasn't too 'normal'. The drive to Awazi was long, hot, incredibly bumpy and beautiful. We passed through some stunning scenery including the Rift Valley, lakes Naivasha and Baringo and the tea plantations in Kerichio.
I was a little surprised when Charles informed me that we had arrived at our stop as we didn't seem to be anywhere that resembled a town or village. We alighted none the less and within seconds of our feet touching the ground a swarm of bikes and trolleys were being wheeled at speed towards us by men hoping to carry our bags. Charles seemed to know all the guys and threw our bags onto one of the bikes which I watched disappear into the distance with a slight sense of panic. Charles then escorted me to his home which was a fifteen minute walk away from the main road into the countryside down a dusty track.
His arrival back in Awazi after almost two years certainly caused a real stir. Old women shrieked with joy to see him return, friends slapped him on the back, children ran up to hug him. Charles introduced me to them all and I was rather surprised to discover that every passer by just happened to be a member of his family; an aunt or uncle or cousin or brother. I was soon to learn that when both your Grandfather and your Father has three wives, one's family is pretty extensive. In fact almost everyone living in Awazi (several hundred) was a part of Charles' family.
As I walked beside Charles, people stared at me with real intrigue. They were clearly wondering what on earth Charles was doing bring a white woman home. This is not something that happens every day in these parts. They all seemed to draw the obvious conclusion; I was his wife. This conclusion clearly accounted for the hearty slaps on the back Charles received from friends and uncles who thought that Charles had done really well for himself! A couple of old women stopped to greet us. Although I couldn't understand a word of what they were saying I was touched by their enthusiasm to see us both and assumed that they were saying something hilariously funny as Charles kept disolving into hysterical laughter while attempting to restrain their hands which they waved over us energetically. Only when Charles explained to me that they were trying to perform a traditional wedding blessing did I understand his slightly hysterical laughter. Even more so when he informed them that I wasn't his wife and so they wanted to perform a blessing that would ensure I would become his wife! It soon became clear that everyone assumed Charles was bringing his wife home to meet his family so I quickly took him to one side and begged him to assure me that he had informed his parents that I was not his wife as I wasn't sure I'd handle the embarrasment of breaking up a wedding celbration. I shouldn't have worried. Charles' family were delightful, welcoming, incredibly generous, great fun and I immediately felt at home. His parents didn't speak English or Swahili but their tribal language Luo so Charles acted as translator.
The head of Charles' family is his father Bernard. Charles is the youngest of Bernard's ten children from wife number one. Bernard has three wives in total, all of whom have born him many children (I think he has 23 in total). Bernard's sons all live on the same plot of land (the daughters have married so live on their husband's family land) with their wives and children. There was a real sense of community, love and support amongst the family that I became quite envious of. The way the family lived together, knew everything about each other and shared everything felt natural and made sense to me. I'm not sure my family would be able to tolerate living like that but I think it would be fun!
Their houses were all made out of a mixture of mud and cow dung with either straw or (if you're lucky) sheet iron roofs. Each house has one room which is divided into a living and sleeping area. They were very sparse but comfortable and cool in the day and warm at night. They were incredibly dark as very little natural light comes in and there's no electricity at night so everything has to be done by candles or lanterns. I was given my own home which had a lovely little bed with a mosqito net and a table and chairs. I shared it with Charles' eldest niece Elizabeth (10) who looked after me and became a great friend. The loo was a hole in the floor in a shed in a neighbouring feild and I was given a bowl of warm water to wash with in the evenings. The water was taken to a small shelter that consisted of three poles with some cloth hanging over them. I was thankful for the thick darkness as I felt more than a little exposed but it was a treat bathing under the stars.
On my first morning Charles woke me and informed me that we had been invited for breakfast with his uncle (all meals were eaten with the men as the women served the food and ate together with the children). Charles' uncle was a fascinating man who was able to speak English well and asked me some very challenging questions about the British governement. I tried to answer them as best I could but one question completely confused me and almost made me spit out my tea; 'Are you shaved?'. I looked at him blankly while trying to remain poliet. 'Sorry?'. He repeated. 'Are you shaved?'. Again I stuttered and blinked rapidly trying to work out what he was asking me. 'My wife and I are both shaved' Errr? 'We used to be Catholic but we have been shaved and now just follow Jesus'. Oh 'saved' PHEW.
We had a wonderful breakfast of sweet tea, mandazi (similar to doughnut without the hole or sugar coating) pawpaw and white bread. After many formal thankyous for 'blessing' his home with my presence (!) Charles and I left, I thought, to get ready for a trip into Kisumu. But I was wrong. We had also been invited for breakfast by one of his brothers. So we had more sweet tea and more white bread and more serious conversation. After this we took breakfast with a cousin. A few more cups of white tea and a few more slices of bread later and I was feeling pretty sick. But we weren't finished. We had 5 breakfasts in total. Lunch and supper was a similar affair and after four days I had put on almost a stone and swore I'd only ever eat fruit again. I was so touched by everyone's excessive generosity. The family had very little and were clearly poor and struggling to get by but they made every effort to make me feel comfortable and welcomed. I've never experienced such generosity and I was deeply affected by it.
One real delight was the children who, once they had overcome their shyness and fear of this strange white woman, never left my side. We couldn't communicate but we didn't let this stop us and soon they were all singing jinglebells and 'he's got the whole world in his hands' at the tops of their voices. I managed to further disturb the peace when I bought a large bag of lolly pops that doubled as whistles. I was woken the next morning around 5am by a chorus of whistles outside my door wanting to wake me so I could play. I only had myself to blame. That said, there wasn't much opportunity for a lie in as cows, chickens and goats acted as very reliable alarm clocks either from outside or inside my room!
The whole experience was extraordinary and when I left I really felt as if I was saying goodbye to a new family. During my final breakfast with Charles' parents his father made a speech blessing me, thanking me, hoping that my dreams were fulfilled and hoping that my friendship with Charles would continue to grow! He told me to remember that the sky is the limit. I don't know what hopes they have for me and Charles but I know that I'll be welcomed back regardless. The final thing he said was that I was so different to white people and that I must have an African heart. Of course he was wrong. I'm no different to anyone else. He just had his own assumptions about what white people are like, just as so many white people have their own assumptions about Africans. His surprise that I was so like them just reconfirmed for me what so much of my time out here has taught me. We really are all exactly the same, in everyway, just with a skin colour that best suits the climate we live in.

Rain rain go away

As I mentioned in an earlier blog, the rains have arrived, which is a good thing - no more dust, it's nice and cool, things are growing etc etc. But it would be really lovely if they'd stop. I've had enough. Everyone's had enough. The situation in some parts of Kenya is really serious with floodings ruining crops, destroying homes and in some cases taking lives. It's not like that in Nairobi but it's horrible being wet and mud splattered all the time. I don't have any clean clothes as nothing can dry, I'm kept awake at night by the hammering of the rain and any hint of a tan that I'd picked up has long since faded. The rain was so heavy last night and this morning that the slums flooded. I didn't realise how bad the situation was until I was too far into them to turn back. The slums that I work in are set along the Ngong river. This is normally a fairly stagnant, fetid river clogged up with rubbish and sewage. However today it was raging and had burst at the seems. Bridges were submerged and the river was so high that it looked more like a lake. I tried in vain to keep dry and to jump onto stones to keep my feet out of the water but before long the stones were submerged and I had no choice but to wade through knee high brown water that was flowing at great speed. Once I'd given in to the fact that no part of me was going to be dry, I quite enjoyed wading through the water - I felt as if my 'plight' should be captured on CNN and I would be lifted from the water by helicopter. Clearly there's still not enough drama in my life! I eventually made it to school having witnessed a huge articulated lorry almost being washed downstream (photos to come) and countless people slipping over - to everyone elses great amusement! I was absolutely sodden. Not an inch of me was dry. Thankfully there were no lessons or children today - it was parents day and my job was to help prepare a 'feast' for all the teachers to celebrate the end of term. It was a joy to spend the day in the kitchen as it was warm and welcoming with an open fire oven burning away in the middle of the room. I took off my shoes and socks and slowly dried by the fire while peeling ginger and tumeric for the chicken stew. I'd advise anyone to avoid peeling tumeric, my hands have been stained a bright yellow and no amount of scrubbing is making any difference.
My fellow 'chefs' created quite a feast of chicken, potatoes, carrots and ugali (traditional kenyan food which is basically a thick lump of white stuff). We all ate together in the hall (with our hands) while people made speeches in honour of the departing Headmistress Mrs Nyaga. The speeches were hilarious; very long and earnest and everyone wanted to say something - which would have been ok had there not been thirty people present. Most people ended their speeches with a song and we all had to get up and dance whenever a song broke out. The weirdest moment came when Mrs Nyaga came to cut her cake. Before she was able to do this we had to sing about three different 'cutting cake' songs, all of which are accompanied by actions and strange shrieking noises. When she had finally cut the cake she had to feed everyone with a piece so we all had to stand up, mouths wide open while she put the cake in our mouths. Apparently this is what always happens when people have a cake. I think I'll keep quite about my birthday.
Thankfully the rains had ceased when we eventually left for the day but my walk home was still blocked by the floods. All was not lost however as some bright sparks had made a temporary 'ferry' to take people across the worst of the flooding. The ferry was basically a large trolley which anyone mad enough to give it a go climbed onto and then three men would run at full pelt to push the trolley through the river and onto 'dry' land. It was fantastic fun and I screamed the whole way much to everyone's amusement - I don't think it's everyday they see a squealing white woman crouched on an out of control trolley covered from head to toe in mud!
Tomorrow is the end of term. I am incredibly sad about this. I've grown to really love the children and we have such fun together. I will miss them enormously and will even miss sitting in the staffroom drinking horribly sweet tea (which I'm now addicted to) while everyone debates the political situation with passion and humour. I never thought I'd find myself standing in front of a blackboard trying to teach adjectives and irregular verbs. I don't think I'm a natural teacher but I have loved watching the children grow in confidence and self-esteem and have relished the challenges of finding ways to keep them entertained and under control without beating them. I was thrilled to pieces when I heard that one of the teachers said to another teacher that she was amazed that my class had calmed down so much and had become so charming this term as they were notoriously a wild bunch. She couldn't understand how I'd done it without waving a stick around. Maybe she'll realise that the old adage really is true; 'all you need is love'.

Martha

I'd like to introduce you to one of the most amazing people I've ever met. Her name is Martha, she's ten years old and she is an orphan. She has the most extraordinary spirit, gentleness and kindness and I'm lucky enough to be able to spend time with her and teach her. While all of the children I teach are great and I am lucky enough to have great relationships with so many of them, there is something that sets Martha apart from them all. While she is quite shy and serious when she smiles you can't help but be bewitched. She always wants to carry my bag from the class to the staffroom, she helps the other children with their studies, speaks beautiful English and lights up a room. On occasions I've taken a few children for sodas and chips after school and Martha always says thank you, clears the plates at the end of the meal and insists we say a prayer of thanks before eating. She may sound boringly good but this couldn't be further from the truth! She's full of spitit and is great fun. Last week she told me that when her mother and father died she thought she would be sad forever but then she became a 'peer educator' and she knew that she would be ok. 'Peer Educators' are children in the schools who teachers pick out as being trustworthy and influential and they are trained up by a charity to advise children on issues such as HIV, their rights, how to handle problems at home etc. I'm currently trying to become her official sponsor which involves many things but it essentially means that I take responsibility for her education, her health and try and provide her with other essentials that she currently doesn't have access to - a long term commitment. It's very exciting but it's a slow and complicated process which involves interviews with social workers, visits to her legal guardians, forms and documents galore. Knowing the politics here I'm very aware that it might not happen and so I haven't told Martha yet but I really feel it's the right thing to do and I'm prepared to have any amount of interviews to make it happen. I'll keep you updated.

Last week was, as they all seem to be, pretty up and down. I had some fantastically enjoyable lessons where I finally felt as if I was making a few breakthroughs with some of the more challenging children and I also had some time to really play with and talk to the children. However there were a number of incidences which tarnished the week somewhat. The first was receiving a telling off from the deputy-head for 'distracting the children from their studies'. She came into my classroom to find about 10 of us playing 'trumps' and was seriously unamused. I would understand her point if a) it hadn't been 'games and clubs' time, which is the time of the day when the children are supposed to take extra-curricular activities. However as none are provided due to lack of facilities the children spend the hour messing around in the playground and so I saw no harm in them playing a supervised game which is also educational, and b) all the teachers were in a meeting so there was no one to look out for the children or give them something constructive to do. I was pretty put-out when the deputy said that the children won't stay in their classrooms if they know that I'm around to play with them but at the same time I can also choose to see it as a compliment!
Another downer was when I approached the headmistress to ask her permission to take my class out for a day trip to visit a couple of tourist attractions here - places where the children can feed animals, learn about wildlife as well as going on a few rides, having a picnic etc. There are no lessons this week as the schools have closed while the standard 8 pupils take their KCPE's - official exams which they need to pass if they can graduate to secondary school - so I thought it would be the perfect time to take the children away for a fun, educational day. I offered to hire a coach and take care of any expenses etc but the Headmistress said no. I was so shocked - her reasons for saying no were extraordinarily petty and I've since learned that she hates anything that isn't her own idea. The irony of it is that my housemate Daniela was in a meeting with her that same day and she was complaining that there weren't the funds to take the children on school trips. I felt so flattened by this rejection as it was unnecessarily preventing the children from having a real special and fun day. Sometimes the politics here are completely beyond me and I have to ask myself just how much some of the staff really think about the children over and above themselves.
Another grim moment was witnessing a particularly unpleansant beating. All of the teachers walk around with sticks or strips of plastic which they wave threatening at the children to try and control them when they get too rowdy and while I'd seen them use them occasionaly clip children on the back of the leg or on the hand if they were getting out of control, I hadn't seen anything like what I saw on Thursday. I was walking past the classroom of a lovely teacher who has been really accommodating to me and seems perfectly 'normal', when I saw about ten children kneeling in a line with their arms raised above their heads, their shoes off, being beaten on the soles of their feet. I was frozen in horror. It really was the most sickening sight. These children were all between 10 and 11 years old and while they aren't the easiest bunch to control they are extraordinary examples of how the human spirit can endure the grimest of situations - the fact that they bother to turn up to school at all considering the conditions they've been born into means they all deserve a socking great medal as far as I'm concerned, not to be humiliated and bruised for being too noisy or not handing their homework in on time. Once I'd gotten over the initial shock I slipped into the social workers office to discuss what I'd seen and to ask if there was anything that could be done about it but when I saw a cane on the social worker's desk I gave up and walked home seething at the injustice of it all. I can't help wonder if I'm being soft - is this sort of discipline really wrong? Only a generation before me corporal punishment was commonplace in schools in England - did it do that much harm? I'm convinced it's wrong, damaging and sick but no one here seems to agree with me - beating is just what one does to slum children, it's the only way to control them apparently. Well, I'll stick with handing out hugs and giving them the attention they crave for now. It seems to be working and that's good enough for me.

When the Rains Came

People have been talking about the rains for the past couple of months - they're talked about like a much anticipated visit from a favorite aunt. People long for the rain here and while I adore the sun I have to admit that I'd begun to join them. The dust in the slums and surrounding area is grim. The ground soil is so fine that even the gentlest gust of wind blows huge clouds of the red dust into the air making one blind, filthy and induces choking as you simply can't avoid inhaling it. I'd taken to walking around with my kikoi wrapped around my head but even this had little effect. The school playground has been one large dust bowl and even though the children seem completely unaffected, I've been increasingly exhausted by it. The classrooms are permanantly filthy, no matter how often the children clean them, and text books are constantly covered in a film of grit. I've returned home every day with scratchy eyes, a sore dry throat and matted hair. It takes ages to feel clean (no thanks to our drizzler of a shower) and then it happens all over again the following day. So the thought of a few rain showers to stick the dust to the floor and freshen the air was a glorious idea. But of course the 'rains' aren't a few gentle showers. They are thunderous torrents of water that turn the dust into a mud bath that would delight a hippo. So I've swapped dusty flip flops for mud splattered trainers. The slums have become trecherous terrain and my journey to school involves slipping through inches of mud, leaping over puddles and desperately looking out for something solid to tiptoe onto. It's a fairly futile excersize trying to keep mud-free and much quicker to slop through the puddles and mud (and goodness knows what else) even if it means turning up at school filthy and splattered from head to foot. The children are of course complete troopers and splash around in the mud and puddles with great abandon. I dread to think what kind of bugs they could pick up as they slosh around without shoes on but they're a pretty resiliant bunch. The rains have also had a real impact on the lessons. Without the natural light provided by bright sunny days the classrooms are incredibly dark which puts a real strain on one's eyes, not to mention trying to speak over the noise of the rain hammering on the roof. We might as well invite a steel band into the room such is the din. Still, the rains have provided a bit of a festive atmosphere and while I don't much enjoy being wet and dirty all day it is lovely to be able to breath in the fresh, clean air.

Rift Valley Camping

Last Friday (20th) was Kenyatta Day - another day in October where everything closes down and we are blessed with a long weekend. I was invited to go camping with my housemate Daniela and some of her friends who live out here. I was more than happy to accept. I've been looking forward to getting out of Nairobi and this seemed like a perfect opportunity. I was able to borrow my uncle's Nissan Sunny for the weekend which made a great difference to the cost of the weekend as car hire is really expensive here but it did however mean that I had to drive and this isn't always the most straightforward of experiences in Kenya - but it was to be an adventure, and adventure is what I was after.
The group was 11 in all, including 3 children, and was made up of a real mixture of people, Kenyans and Europeans. We met at a shopping centre to buy supplies and once we'd loaded the cars down with beer and a few sausages we headed off. Roughly 3 minutes into the journey the hire car broke down and we spent the next 2 and a half hours sitting on the side of the road waiting for a replacement car. This might not have taken quite so long had the guy who ran the car hire shop been able to drive! Once he'd found a friend who could drive, a new car was despatched and we were on our way. The drive took us south out of Nairobi, past the Ngong Hills and deep into the rift valley towards to the Tanzanian boarder - masai land. The views were spectacular but I couldn't really appreciate them as my eyes were glued to the road trying to swerve around gaping potholes and stray donkeys on a suicide mission. It was a hot and dusty drive. We had the windows down but the 'breeze' coming in was more like an army of hairdryers intent on melting us. As sweat and dust mmingled we all turned the same chalky colour and gave up trying to stay clean. After about 2 hours of bumpy, but quite brilliant driving, we arrived at our campsite. It was a fabulous place in the middle of nowhere. There was a huddle of masai women awaiting our arrival hoping to sell a mound of beaded bracelets, necklaces and key rings, and a man selling firewood - which we quickly brought as the nights are pitch black out in the bush and there's no electricity. We didn't need our tents as the camp site had some spare 'bandas' - round stone rooms with straw roofs - and these were much cooler than tents and only cost 200 shillings for the night (about one pound sixty). We settled in, had a picnic lunch and a few beers before heading off to Lake Bagadi which was a further hour south. It's a soda lake so home to many flamingos and has an extraordinary pink colour which was further enhanced by the setting sun. The road eventually disappeared and I found myself hurtling at great speed through the dried up like which was crusted with piles of dried salt. I seiously felt like I was in a movie - such fun! Our destination was some hot springs that have 'healing powers'. Quite why we wanted to find hot water on one of the hottest days of my life was quite beyond me but when we eventually found them, threw our clothes off and jumped into the almost boiling water I knew it had been worth it. The sky rapidly turned black and the stars came out as we lay back, soaking in the hot salty water. It was quite magical. We stayed for hours just talking, drinking beer and relaxing in the hot night air. Everyone was quite shattered by the time we got back and the night drive certainly took it out of me. The next day we relaxed, cooked sausages on a homemade fire, chatted and slept. On our way back to Nairobi we stopped off at an isolated restaurant with a pool that had a backdrop of the rift valley and an amazing menu. I simply couldn't resist the apple pie and ice cream - such a treat even if it lacked the Kenyan flavour that the rest of the weekend had in abundance.

Chicken and spaghetti

Teaching continues to bring it's ups and downs. I've been incresingly frustrated when trying to teach my class of 50+ children English. I have to stick to the set text that I've been given but there are only 15 books to share between the class and as a result it's impossible for everyone to follow what I'm trying to teach. I can't blame the children for breaking into fights over who has the books - at least they're fighting over wanting to learn - but it does make me furious that the children are being held back because the government aren't giving the school sufficient financial support and resources. I was also really furious when an English exam paper was given to my class. The children asked me for help with it and I simply couldn't believe what I saw. It was an official printed exam paper with various tests on adjectives, abstract nouns, plurals etc etc. The first section was a comprehension with words taken out and the children had to fill in the correct missing words. Simple enough, but the comprehension went something like this...

"Mbela kicked the footballl onto the roof. It gotten stuck and he had to climned onto it to get it back. As he was climning up. He fell. His leg was badly injured and as he was climning up he fell. His twi friends came running to help." (sic)

See attached photo. How can they possible hand something out like this? I've tried hard to accept teaching practices that I don't like and to keep quiet when my instinct has been to complain or speak up but it seems unforgiveable that the children should be expected to complete an exam like this when the board of examiners and the teachers either haven't bothered to read it through or can't speak English themselves. I took the paper to the Headmistress who was pretty shocked but said there was nothing she could do. Argh - it drives me mad.

This major irritation aside, I'm still thriving on the moments that make it all worthwhile. I really enjoy spending my breaks in the container where I teach as many children come and find me there and spend the break happily colouring in scraps of paper and singing songs. Some of them are becoming more and more tactile and love hugs and holding hands which I am more than happy to give out. They are still forever touching my hair which seems to hold an endless fascination for them as it's "soooo sooooft" - they make me feel like I should be in a Timote advertisment! One of the teachers came into the container today and was absolutely gobsmacked to see about 15 children crammed in all colouring away quietly while a few played with my hair. He couldn't believe they were being so well behaved when I wasn't waving a stick around threatingly to make them behave. He kindly translated some of the lovely things the children were saying to him about me, all of which made me swim with happiness as they don't really say those sort of things directly to me and it's naturally wonderful to hear they think I'm alright! When one of the little girls I teach came up to me, held my hand and coyly said 'I love you more than chicken and spaghetti' I knew that my day couldn't get any better.

The missing masai

After the planned trip to spend the weekend in a masai village fell through (the masai contact owed Daniela 3000 shillings - about 25 pounds - so failed to return her calls) I had a vacant weekend in Nairobi. So on Friday night Daniela and I went to the Institute Francais in the middle of Nairobi to watch a live concert of Kenya's top bands. The Institute is a real oasis in the middle of the city - so civilised and 'normal', they even sold fresh panini and croissants, it was like walking into the Riverside Studios - a real shock! The concert was excellent. We sat outside in the gardens and were entertained by a wonderful variety of Kenyan pop bands and soloists. The Kenyans really know how to enjoy themselves. It was heaving but everyone danced with absolute abandon and confidence - I don't think I've seen people dance like that in Britain unless they have taken something to 'enhance' their enjoyment! Warmed up by the dancing and french wine, Daniela and I popped into a local club to see some friends. It was a pretty standard club but being the only whites certainly made for a less than standard experience on the dancefloor. It's not often that you see people dancing to Kylie Minogue's 'I should be so lucky' without any sense of irony and it's certainly not often that I find myself the object of desire for every man on the dancefloor. I was under no illusion that I had suddenly developed a Kate Moss-esque bone structure or an Angelina Jolie body - no, it was simply the colour of my skin that made the men weak at the knees. It's a shame that being white comes with a lable of affluence and a ticket out of Kenya to a perfect life abroad. I'm doing my best to explain that life in the UK is not all gold-plated baths and huge houses but it's a myth that is hard to erase.
I had a wonderful night, the group of friends I was with are enormous fun and we're all going camping this weekend - to where I have no idea but they're organinsing it so I know it will be fun.
Saturday was a bit of a slow day after my marathon dancing session to 80's classics. Daniela and I decided to cool down at a local swimming club where you can sit outside, swim and relax in the palm-tree gardens. This would have been a much more relaxing experience had we not, again, been the only white people there. It's never the most comfortable experience getting into a swimming pool in a bikini with strangers around but when they are openly staring at you and you have an audience of about ten children gawping and pointing it really does make you feel pretty self conscious! As I was swimming up and down I had a sense of what it must be like to be a zoo animal - I could almost hear children pointing and saying 'look mummy, it's a lesser spotted white person'!
On Sunday Daniela and I decided to make the most of the day and set off to the Ngong hills armed with a lot of water (it's seriously hot now), a small picnic and sturdy footwear. The hills leap out of the flat landscape that surround Nairobi and are most famous for being the place where Robert Redford crashed his plane in 'Out of Africa'. We walked from one end of the hills to another - the steepness challenged Kilimanjaro at times and it was with a real sense of accomplishment that we completed the climb 5 hours later. We hitched a lift back to the nearest town and decided to have a coke before we caught a bus back to Nairobi. We ducked into a local 'bar' and interrupted a party of about 8 people who had clearly been in there all day drinking Tusker and Guiness. They thought it was hilarous that 2 white people had come into their bar and insisted on buying us drinks and dancing for us. It was a little strange to watch some very drunken men and women gyrating provacitively to 'When the Saints Go Marching In'! One of the men kept telling us to 'feel at home' (unlikely) and to feel safe as he was in the Kenyan army (again, unlikely!) He even showed me his army identification card which would have been convincing if it hadn't said: height 5' 8'' when his head was almost touching the ceiling!
A great weekend and I loved seeing the real Nairobi - it made such a difference to all the previous times I've been there when we've driven through with the doors locked and windows firmly closed. It gave me a real buzz to be walking along the streets and amongst the people, almost as one of them. It's by no means safe in Nairobi, muggings, attacks and worse happen daily but there are fabulous places and fabulous people if you are lucky enough to actually get out there and find them.

Diamonds and Destruction

It was my Grandparents 60th wedding anniversary last week so we had a huge party for them at their home. It was a wonderful occasion with over a hundred people from different stages of their lives. I was the only grandchild so had a lot of greeting, talking and listening to do which I loved - it really was a special affair with the British High Commissioner among others coming along to congratulate them. The only thing that took the edge off the event was discovering that they weren't eligible to receive a card from the Queen which apparently happens when you reach the 60th anniversary. Even though my Grandfather was in the British Army he is also a Kenyan citizen and therefore not eligible. I think my Grandfather felt a bit let down. Perhaps ER just didn't want to pay the extra postage costs?
Friday was a day off for most of the schools in Nairobi so that they could attend the Nairobi Show. This has happened every year since my aunt can remember and apparently my father and his sisters used to love going when they were at school here. Things must have changed somewhat since then as out of the tens of thousands of people there I only spotted 4 other white people the whole day...I think it's just too hot, dusty and crowded for many people to leave their air-conditioned homes but it was fun and interesting I'm I glad I went even though it took a long time to cool down and get the dust off. There were many different exhibitions which you can stroll around, food stalls, a fairground and various forms of entertainments and shows to keep you busy. I went with Christine who lives in a room at the back of my house. She took her 5 year old nephew John who was adorable and I managed to pick up a street boy at the gates who couldn't afford to get in. I thought that once I'd given him a ticket he'd disappear but he stayed with us all day and was absolutely delightful - he looked after John in the crowds and was fun to spend time with. I didn't really piece together his story but his mother had left him to go and live in South Africa so he spent a lot of time on his own but went to school when he could / wanted. I was sad to see him go at the end of the day but he's bright and resourceful so I'm sure he'll be fine.
The rest of the weekend I spent with family and friends. It is seriously hot now so the luxury of being able to escape to a swimming pool or a cool veranda is seriously appealing and going back to South B at the end of the weekend not always that easy. But I'm back and have just had a very hot and dusty day at school. Nothing particularly note worth happened today but this little scenario should give you an idea of just how different life is like here. The Headmistress came into the staffroom at 11 to make a few announcements and then left. She came back in 5 minutes later to inform us that apparently the staffroom, library and her office were all being pulled down and demolished later in the day so could we please all help move books, tables, years worth of files etc into the school hall. No one grumbled or seemed surprised. I really hope their laid back nature and ability to roll with the punches rubs off on me by the time I get back!

Doing so much lesson preparation over the weekend made teaching last week so much easier and more enjoyable for me and for the children. I bought a few handwriting & reading books which I photocopied and based the lessons. Having a bit of structure and guidance gave me a bit more confidence and I felt like I was getting somewhere finally. I'm feeling more comfortable at the school, especially in the staff room. I've made friends with a girl called Madeline who is training to be a teacher. She has a pretty grim background; last year she was on the streets when her money completely ran out and she had no family to support her. She was eventually picked up by a charitable organisation who have set her up with a home, an allowance and pay her university fees. She's amazing and somehow manages to support 5 different street children on her meagre savings. The other friend is a guy called Charles who's volunteering as part of his teacher training. He's great fun and thinks that I'm completely mad - I don't think he's used to a woman being so opinionated! He has invited me to stay with his family for a few days in December. They live in Kisumu, about 5 / 6 hours from Nairobi. His family are planning a big celebration and feast and he wants me to join him - I fear this means I'll be witnessing the slaughtering a few goats! I also have plans to spend a weekend with some Maasai who have invited my housemate Daniela as a guest. She doesn't want to go on her own so I'm going to go with her. I can't wait it'll be fascinating. Thus far my weekends have all been spent with my family or friends who live here. It has been great having the opportunity to slip away from life here and have a bath, some wine, watch telly etc but now that I'm a bit more settled I know I need to use this time to really experience something different...and spending the night with the maasai just might do the trick.
I don't know if you heard the story about a man who was killed out here by elephant on his honeymoon? I was staying with a friend over the weekend who runs safaris and he was one of her clients. She got a phone call over breakfast on the Sunday telling her what had happened and it was the most hideous day hearing more and more information about the accident as my friend had to organise for the body and his wife to be flown back to Nairobi, contact next of kin etc. So many people I know here were devestated by the accident as they all felt responsible in various ways (the owner of the camp, the manager, the people who'd organised the safari etc) although it was just a tragic accident. Africa has so much that draws people to it but this all seems to go hand in hand with danger. Perhaps this is what makes it all the more alluring?
This week we have Friday off school which is rather nice as I'm going to my Grandparents 60th wedding anniversary on Thursday night so there'll be lots of celebrating.
I've got a few little projects keeping me busy alongside the teaching. I'm trying to organise a school poetry competition and the winning poem will be published in a christmas newsletter that I'm helping to compile. I'm working on the newsletter with a driver for the project who enjoys writing and has some great ideas. We'll give it to all the sponsors, donors etc updating them on what the project has been up to over the year, achievements, hopes for the following year etc. I'm also hoping to make a calendar to sell out here at Christmas. Each month will be a picture drawn by the children of what they hope to be when they grow up to highlight the importance of a good education in having a future. I hope to sell it out here and raise a bit of money and awareness for the project - so apologies in advance if your Christmas presents are all unsold calendars.