My last post seemed rather sub-par. I think I was still just trying to remember how life here works. I now feel pretty much back to normal life here and, as always, it feels just right. Aside from the minor hardships and certain frustrating people that I have to deal with here, and could totally live without, everything else about this place is great.
I said in the last post more time at school would bring more stories:
Story #1: I brought this fabulous projector back from the States with me. We've used it a couple of times so far and hopefully it will end up being well worth the donations I spent on it. It's hard to use it during the day because of the sun, since there is no way to shut out the light at school. The windows are just big open holes with bars in them. So I've been petitioning for the opportunity to play things at night, after dinner. After I finally got permission for movie night, because we now have a watchman who can walk myself and the girls back to primary since it's after dark when we finish, our first real movie night went wonderfully. I spent a lot of time talking to Mom about what would be best to show the kids. I always call them my kids, but they're not kids. They're my age or almost out of their teens. Tom & Jerry won't cut it for them anymore. But I wanted something that would also get them thinking, not just a bang bang shoot 'em up with no real substance. So Mom suggested I show "The Miracle Worker," the 1962 version of the Helen Keller story with Patty Duke and Anne Bancroft. It was awesome. I prefaced it by asking them how they would all communicate if they couldn't see. They all just said well, it's not possible. At first they were a little perplexed by the black-white-ness of it all, but in the end, really enjoyed it. I downloaded subtitles for them, even though most of the time it doesn't help, but the movie is more just about the physical interaction of Helen and Annie than the actual dialogue anyways. (Plus there are studies that say watching movies with subtitles really improves English skills). Afterwards they asked questions and we played games where one person closes their eyes and another fingerspells into their hand. It's amazing what you can get across without seeing or hearing anything.
Story #2: Anywho, teaching is finally back in full swing which means every day seems like hour after hour of math. We were talking about travel timetables in Form 3 today, arrival times, departure times, and a question came up asking about average speed. I always try to reference things they know when I'm explaining words they've never seen before. So in explaining the concept of speed, I started with the dashboard of a car (everyone's been in a matatu). The gas gauge, tachometer, and speedometer somehow led me to the pedals and the gears. They were dying for me to explain driving further so I made sure they all got the average speed thing down and then we went back to how to work a car. Automatic was super easy to explain but then moving on to manual it got a little tougher. Getting back behind the wheel at Christmas was like remembering how to ride a bike, or remembering that chocolate tastes good. Easy. But trying to explain it without an actual car is a different story. I actually had to sit down and close my eyes and pretend I was back in Mom's mini to remember everything well enough to explain it to them. I kept telling them I can only describe so much, you have to just do it. A few of them did a whole reenactment of getting into the car, putting the seatbelt on, putting your foot on the brake, turning the engine on. This all took place right in their chair at their desk of course, but it did look pretty real to me. Some of them now think they can totally drive a car. Oh well.
Story #3: I have one kid, Amir, who is now Form 3, and somehow or another cannot for the life of him stop getting injured. I'm nervous about every step he takes, worried something is going to break, or get poked or something. There was one week last year that he spent entirely inside the dorm. He got this thing called Nairobi fly - it's a tiny little beetle thing that doesn't bite and doesn't sting but if you squash it on your skin it gives you a chemical burn. And it hurts like hell. Besides Amir, a couple volunteers can also attest to it. If you see them you're just supposed to blow them off you, rather than rub and run the risk of squishing them. I'm pretty sure Amir had inadvertently tried to rub it off his eye in his sleep, cuz the next morning it looked like someone glued an apple to his eye. Poor kid was in so much pain for so long and was so worried he'd never see out of that eye again. Thankfully it's all better now, and he can see just fine. However that doesn't stop other accidents from happening. Last term he was playing football and a GIANT thorn lodged itself in the bottom of his foot. One dinky ice-pack and a lot of coaxing on how to pull it out later, it was finally out and the day could go on. THEN, this past weekend, he was trying to show off how fast he can run (he's probably the fastest kid out of all of mine) and somehow or another tripped and fell and landed on his shoulder wrong. I was actually gone that evening but the girls told me about it when I got home. The way they described it I was thinking his shoulder blade had cracked or his arm had fallen off. I had to wait till the next morning to get the full story from James, the one construction worker at school who's taken a real liking to the kids and speaks super good English. Turns out when he fell James and Samuel (the dorm father) took him to the hospital where they just told him it was dislocated. They shot him with something to put him to sleep and popped it back into place before tying a piece of gauze into some very strategic knots to serve as a sling. He was a little woozy the next day from whatever they gave him to sleep but he's in class now and signing well and back to his old goofy self. Hopefully another week will pass until something else happens to him.
Story #4: I was told today that I need to get the names of all my Form 3's who or are 18 years or older. I was class teacher for Form 2 last year and now will move up one with my same kids to be class teacher for Form 3. Anyways, I have had conversations with a lot of the kids before about how old they are. Never officially, but just in passing. So when they all started telling me their ages again this year I got a little confused. Turns out they were the confused ones. They understand the concept of 'the date you were born' but not really that you're not actually another year older until that exact date comes around. So most of them were telling me that they are now 20 or 21 or 22 because it's now 2012. Then when I ask them their birthday it's not till July or August or November. That means in July or August or November they'll turn another year older. You don't become a year older just because the world itself got a year older. It took them a while to understand it, but I think I got through to most of them. Another issue is a lot of them don't even know their birthdays. Some know the month but not the date, some the year but not the month, and some just have a roundabout time frame but nothing concrete. It's hard when both parents are dead and nobody is still around who remembers when you were born. I guess when it comes down to it they'll just end up picking a day. Birthdays here are obviously not really a big deal. It's crazy to think about the cultural differences with birthdays; America has the show "My Sweet Sixteen" where girls literally have to be turned into actual royalty and be given and 3 pink SUVs for their birthday or they'll throw a fit and kill someone, and in Kenya so many people don't even know what day that would be for them.
I keep trying to remind myself that I will only get another year with these fabulous kids of mine, and that it's going to go faster than I think. So I also keep trying to remind myself that I need to soak up every second I can with them, and remember as many details about them as possible: the way they look, the way they walk, the noises they make, the way they smell, and most of all, the way they each sign. I feel like a kid in candy store when I'm surrounded by them. They have no personal space and don't understand what it means to offend someone, but I don't care. One day without seeing my kids is a very strange day, and not strange in a good way. I get hungry for them; for the sight of them signing, the sounds of their laughs, and the feeling I get when I'm with them. I'm not sure how I survived before I knew these kids.
Some of them have voiced (signed) their worries that I'm going to forget about them as soon as peace corps is over and I leave Kenya. I don't think there's a single part of me that can ever forget these kids. They have made more of an impression on me in one year here than I ever thought possible. They have so much personality, so much spunk, so much curiosity, and so much love in their hearts. Why does it seem that I'm the only one that sees that? And why does it seem that schools in Kenya are not really built for the kids? If I had my way in the world I'd pack all of 'em up and take them right back to the States with me. I always joke with them about what Mom would say if I came home from Peace Corps with 70 deaf Africans following me. If only.
If only I could freeze some of these moments in time until I really truly had enough. If only they understood how much I crave them and how much I depend on them for happiness. If only others would understand how spectacular they all are. And if only I had them forever.
I hope I remember all this in 30 years. Dear Internet: Thanks for keeping my blog and remembering everything I've ever written on it. You rock.
~ Shub :)
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