The school year is ending alright. It's Monday and the kids are slowly figuring out how they are going to get the money to travel home. Most of them have their parents send me money on my phone through m-pesa. They ask me to call home for them, which I gladly do, except when no one in their household speaks English. So my three half-hearing boys use their one good ear, and my phone, to speak Kiswahili to the parents and get things straightened out. The fares for the kids' travel varies a lot because they are from so many different places. Some are from right here in Kilifi, and luckily enough for them, they just need their two legs to get home, but some live really far inland into the heart of the Kenyan village, and some even live as far as Nairobi. What happens often is that since their actual parents live really far away, they stay with aunts or uncles or other family in Mombasa, or other places on the coast. Wherever they go I miss them just the same.
Last week for some reason there was a change in some of the kids' moral code, and a lot of them said they had things stolen; money, clothes, things like that. Then during exams a bunch of my Form 3's decided not to follow my instructions of not using a calculator and used one anyways. I caught them and got really pissed. I took all my Form 3's aside and had a really serious talk about following rules and respecting people, whether you like them or not. I was upset because this was the first time they blatantly ignored something I told them. They normally always listen to me because they know I care about them and they know I don't treat them like dogs, so they respect me in return. But this instance sort of felt like I was just cheated on by my significant other. I gave them a chance to explain themselves but they didn't really have much excuse. Some of them said, "well I saw everyone else doing it, so I just assumed it was ok." I asked them if everyone else in Form 3 went and jumped off Kilifi bridge would you follow them? Again, not much excuse. I'm usually always the teacher that plays around and is happy and goofy most of the time, so seeing me really serious and disappointed hopefully made them think a bit. They apologized profusely and said it would never happen again. Lessons to be learned right?
Anyways, so there were also those cases of them stealing from each other. It's really hard to pinpoint or accuse anyone, especially since they live in such close quarters, and all share stuff all the time anyways. Maybe it was stolen, or maybe it was just lost... it's always hard to say. But last week, one of my Form 3's, Thomas, told me that his box was broken open from the back end, and his 400/- fare for travel home was stolen. This was at the beginning of the week so I made every single one of them promise me they would come to my impromptu Life Skills lesson on Thursday afternoon. I spent a few days trying to figure out how to explain to them the concept of morals and right and wrong. But as soon as I started thinking about it, I realize that so much of it is cultural. It's just ingrained me that stealing is wrong, like I know the sky is up and the ground is down. I don't really know why, it just is. So if no one ever finds out who stole the money, and no one is every punished, and someone actually benefits from it, why is it wrong? You have to get money somehow right? So I started off my Life Skills session with a little story. Imagine Sarah went to America for the holidays and got some money from some very generous friends to help out her students in Kenya. When she brings it back to Kenya it ends up equating to about 10,000/-. She decides that this is kind of a lot and the students don't really need all of that, so she pockets 2,000/- and uses the remaining 8,000/- to buy books and calculators for her kids. (When somebody pockets money the sign the kids use is slightly reminiscent of eating, or swallowing, so that's how I now think of it.) No records were kept on this money, and no one ever asks where every shilling went, so no one ever finds out that Sarah kept that 2,000/- for herself, or "ate it" as the sign suggests. Life goes on as always and the worlds never knows what happened. I finished the story with the big question: "Is this right or wrong?"
The answers were all over the place and immediately there was disagreement. I let them fight it out for a minute or two, just to see what they thought about everything. Then I asked who thought it was wrong, and who thought it was right. It was literally about 50/50. I then asked each of the groups why it was right or wrong. It's right because you don't get caught and it's wrong because it's wrong. Then the concept of conscience comes into play. If I steal something, my conscience will kill me, and tell me that it's absolutely immoral. But how do you describe conscience to a bunch of deaf kids who need as much visual aid as possible in their language, and in a country where conscience is so vastly different from the way that I grew up? It's like trying to explain how the internet works. It's just there because it's there. So I took a different angle. A lot of the kids have asked me in the past if there is a Kenyan equivalent of the Peace Corps. "We know Americans can come to Kenya and help and teach and work, but why can't Kenyans go to America and do the same thing?" So I asked this question again to all of them and the answers got really specific really fast: Because there's more money in America, there's more technology, students study harder, etc. But why is that? So I asked them which country is more developed, why did I come to Kenya to help? That first part is easy to answer; obviously America, it's essentially paradise over there. But the second part was a little tougher. I came to Kenya because Kenya needs help. Sure, America is not perfect, but other than cell phone and Facebook, Kenya (along with many other African countries I think) is pretty far behind. But why does Kenya need help? Well, one of the reasons is because corruption and self-service and tribalism is so rampant in so many aspects of life here. Then I drew my family tree on the board and gave them another little scenario, making sure they know it's just an example. What if my grandparents grew up learning that 'skimming off the top' is one of the only ways to survive? Then when my dad is growing up, will he learn something different? Probably not. Then when Sarah comes into the world and grows up seeing her parents and her teachers skimming off the top and taking their personal share wherever they think it's right, and not getting punished or disciplined for it, is Sarah going to learn anything different? No, she's going to grow up thinking it's no big deal, and just how life works. But if this continues, and no one disrupts this constant generational flow of skimming off the top and helping yourself, then Kenya will forever stay the "nchi ya kitu kidogo" (land of a little something) that it's been for so long.
By the end of this they were dying to know whether me taking that 2,000/- actually was right or wrong, like it's answer on a test or something. I told them that it's wrong, but the truth is it just depends on who you talk to. But i figure I didn't come here to abandon my morals and forget what I stand for, so telling them it's wrong seemed right. I finished by asking them if it's possible for Kenya to change, if it's possible for Kenya to become more developed. About 90% of them said "no way," which was a little disheartening. I corrected them again and told them of course it's possible for things to change, but it won't happen fast. A very wise person once told me that change in Kenya is so slow it's painful. So I told them big things won't necessarily happen in their lifetime, but if they start now, by not copying everyone else just for the sake of conformity and culture, then it's a start. Similarly, when they grow up and finish school, some of them might become teachers, and though it might be a generation later, sort of, the idea of getting more sign-fluent teachers into deaf schools will start to become a reality. So many of them are completely hopeless about the future, because they're deaf and don't know English and it's just much easier to leave school and stay home to give birth and work in the shamba. This outlook on their future kills me, so I tried to explain to them the concept of hope, which, mind you, is just as hard to explain as conscience and the internet. I told them I believe in them and they are some of the most incredible people I know. All the people that make them mad because they treat them poorly or steal their money, those are the people they can choose not to become. It was an interesting Life Skills session, to say the least.
I also realized while I was teaching this lesson that I would never have been able to properly explain most of this stuff at the beginning of the year, because I didn't know most of their signs. I still learn new signs every day, but a year into teaching here I feel like I have a definite grasp on their language and a definite fluency with all of them. I've explained before about how KSL varies greatly depending on where you are in the country. It can depend on which province you're in, which school you're at, or in my case in Kilifi, which classroom you've just walked into. My Form 3's have a really well developed vocabulary, albeit some of it is really only understood by the Form 3's themselves. When the students come to secondary school, they're usually coming from lots of different primary schools. Which means that their signs will be different; not so different that they can't communicate, but definitely different. So the longer they spend in school together, the more streamlined their language becomes. So my Form 3's, being the oldest at the school right now, have had three years to unify their signs. I learn new signs every day, and it's usually the Form 3's who teach them to me.
But sadly everyone has to go home now that school is out. It's not really appropriate in Kenyan culture for students and teachers to actually enjoy each other, but I miss those kids so much when school is closed, Kenyan cultural appropriateness or not. Thankfully this month and next I have a lot of traveling to keep me busy, and a wonderful visit home to look forward to. But as soon as I get back to Kenya I'll be anxiously awaiting the day when my kids come back. My Form 1's will no longer be the babies, my Form 2's will become Form 3, and my Form 3's will be the big bad Form 4's. That also means that a wonderful new group of Form 1's will be coming in. Yay! More deaf kids!
SO. I'm spending this week trying to relax and get ready for Friday, when I'm cooking a big Thanksgiving dinner (hopefully with some help) for a bunch of ex-pat friends in the area. This will be the third year in a row that I'm not home for Thanksgiving, and since my cooking partner Kate went back to the States, I'm gonna have to really cook up a storm. We've got a turkey ordered from Mombasa, plenty of wine and beer, and as many Thanksgiving-y dishes as I can possibly think of. I'll try to take pictures and keep you posted. Then on Sunday I have to catch a Nairobi bound bus to head into Machakos for Model School. Remember last year at this time I was prepping for the first time I would ever teach, at my Model School in Loitokitok? Well this year the Secondary Deaf Eds are in Machakos, and Amanda and I, being the big bad veteran volunteers, get to run Model School. They just opened a secondary deaf school in Machakos, right on the same compound as the primary school, and some of the new Form 1's will be staying behind to be students in our Model School. The new trainees will practice teaching, we'll have a talent show, and a bonfire, a movie night, and every type of condom-related relay game you can think of. I'll keep you all posted on that too.
Then when Model School is finished myself and the other PCVs there with me will head into Nairobi (carefully of course because of all our new travel restrictions) for our mid-service medical exams, where they will see whether or not I actually acquired shistosomiasis from the Nile in Uganda. THEN, on the night of the 8th, I jump on a plane back to the good 'ol U S of A. My schedule is rapidly filling up for my two and a half weeks in the States so if you want some Shub time you better move fast! Just kidding, I want to see everyone and I will def make time for it :)
Alright, I suppose I better attach some pictures to this novel. I always think 'I can't do a blog post now, I don't have enough to say!' But as soon as I start typing, I can't stop. Oh well.
Here's some of my boys on a random Saturday - David, Paul, Mwavu, and Mbaraka
The kids do their own church on Sunday morning:
I love them:
Me with my Form 1's
And my Form 2's
And my Form 3's
So one year is finished, or mwaka mmoja umeisha, as they say in Kiswahili. Can't believe I'm halfway done. Sometimes I'm really not sure I can take it a whole 'nother year, but looking at pics of these kids makes me realize I have no choice. I've said it before and I'll say it again: no one said Peace Corps would be easy, but it seems it's hard for all the wrong reasons. But I could never forgive myself if I lied to these kids about coming back after Christmas. So I'll be back guys! I promise.
Ok, had enough of the novel yet? Signing off and wishing everyone the happiest of Thanksgivings! Enjoy the family, friends, food, football, and general American-ness of everything for me.
Tutaonana very soon!
Miss you all bunches,
~ Shub :)
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