Stateside.

After a LONG and painstaking 31 hours of travel, I finally made it home last weekend in one piece. Well, mostly. My bags decided they liked their 8 1/2 layover in Amsterdam so much that they wanted to spend an extra night there. So they did, and thankfully arrived on my doorstep the following evening. Not quite sure what I would have done if all my Christmas presents for everyone never got to the States. Oh well, I'm here now and so are all my things.

So I don't know if you guys have noticed, but America is like, REALLY cold. ALSO (don't be alarmed), there are A LOT of white people in this country. I know, crazy huh?

Remember how I was planning that giant Thanksgiving dinner? Well it all went very smoothly and I successfully (with help) cooked for about 18 people. We went to a friend's place on the plantation where he has an oven and lots of alcohol. That's about all I need to cook so it worked out well. He got me a turkey somehow, and when I asked where it came from he said "Don't ask; it's not, strictly speaking, legal." So I said, alright whatever, as long as I have a bird! It ended up being about 15 lbs and as delicious as I remember turkey should be. I also made sweet potato casserole, apple sausage stuffing, and sauteed veggies. Plus we had a huge salad, copious amounts of rolls and mashed potatoes, and even a dutch dish from a friend from Holland. AND we had ice cream galore, two cheesecakes, and two mango-apple crumbles for dessert. And of course there was ton of wine and beer to go around. It was wonderful, to say the least. The majority of the people there were not even from the States (Germany, Holland, the UK, Scotland, and probably other small European countries were represented). So since Thanksgiving has never been a tradition with most of them, they all (after eating my meal) decided that it was definitely worth having again :) Here's the proof:

Even though I've only been in the States since Friday, I've actually been away from home in Kilifi since the end of November. I left Kilifi on the 27th, got a wonderful free and air-conditioned ride to Machakos, just outside Nairobi, where we ran Model School for the new group of Education Trainees in country. They are actually supposed to swear-in as real volunteers tomorrow. Congratulations guys!

Model School went relatively well. Machakos, which has had a primary deaf school for a number of years now, just opened a secondary deaf school at the beginning of this year. So about 11 of the new Form 1 students stayed behind to be students in our Model School. And what was super cool was that one of my kids from Kilifi, Dennis Mwanzia, who left school at the end of the first term to move to Machakos, was one of the ones who stayed behind. It was fabulous to see him again and catch up. I had forgotten what an awesome dancer he is, but the Thursday night Talent show quickly reminded me. We also had game night, movie night, and a bonfire at the end of the week.

After a busy week of the trainees figuring out how tough and wonderful teaching at a Kenyan school for the deaf is going to be, I packed my bags again and headed the short two hours to Nairobi. Our mid-service medical exams started bright and early on Monday morning and ended on Wednesday. Thankfully, I don't have TB, my eyesight hasn't really gotten any worse, and I don't think I have schistosomiasis. Unfortunately however, the stresses of working at my school have caused me to stop sleeping normally, and apparently to grind my teeth like one of those automatic pepper shaker things. I've never in my life had problems sleeping, but that's only because I've before had to deal with the level of stress that I deal with at my school. Thankfully, some heavy antihistamines will help the sleeping problem, and the dentist's advice for grinding my teeth was "take a long holiday." Well, long holiday or not I'm still going to have to go back to school, so we'll see what my American dentist says when I see him.

Medical ended on Wednesday and I hung around Nairobi until Thursday evening when I went to the airport so catch my plane to Amsterdam, which, let me tell you, my luggage was SUPER excited about because apparently they love it there. The scheduled 7-hour layover turned into 8 1/2 and by the time I actually got through customs and through figuring out where my bags were, it was about 7 pm Friday when we finally made it home. Driving home in that lovely DC rush hour traffic, I realize that's definitely not one of the things I miss about America. And spending the last few days in luxurious comfort at home, with squishy beds and fluffy towels and water pressure that could kill you, I also realize that even though I miss these American comforts, living without them is not only simple, but also way more fun. Life in the US is just so darn easy. It's much more interesting when you have to work at things a little, believe me. And sitting down to sweet and sour meatballs and asparagus with Mom and Dad last night, I also realize how much I miss ugali (but don't tell anyone).

After getting home and waiting for my luggage, I spent the next few days going back and forth from church, helping my mother set up for her huge Christmas dinner, and prepping my own stuff for the big presentation I had on Sunday morning. Saturday night at the dinner everyone was saying how excited they were for my talk on Sunday morning, which only added to the nervousness I was already feeling of having to actually speak in front of a large group of people, rather than just sign. Thankfully, though, one minute into talking it felt like I was giving a tour again, just a tour of my school and students in Kenya instead of Maryland. I showed some videos of me teaching, and some of my kids being themselves, which everyone loved, and tons of pictures as well. I got numerous compliments about everything and multiple secretly-slip-the-money-in-the-handshake-s, which actually ended up being just about enough to buy that projector I've been wanting for my school. I also might have enough to get some more textbooks and calculators when I get back as well.

        (Side note - If you are feeling generous this holiday season and want an outlet for it, I am still desperately in need of funds to do things at my school. I have all kinds of crap I would still like to get for my kids, but not the financial resources to get it. My email is sarahchubbard@gmail.com, and getting in touch with me that way would be the easiest way to get the ball rolling if you feel the urge to donate. Coming home to my childhood bedroom this season and seeing all the loads of crap I've acquired over the years, I realize I don't need anything material for Christmas, I just need money for my kids. Please let me know if you want to help and my kids and I will be eternally grateful. Thanks in advance!)

So I'm spending my time in America going to Target and Old Navy as often as humanly possible, and seeing as many people as I can. My one and only AngiePants comes in to Maryland next week, as does my redonkulous brother, and I couldn't ask for a better Christmas present, before I fly back to Kenya on the 27th.

I hope everyone has an amazing Christmas/holiday season, and a glorious new year. Keep on keepin' on and don't forget to be thankful for what you do have this year.

Happy Holidays from Maryland and from Kenya!

<3 Shub :)

Mwaka mmoja imeisha.

Can you believe I just spent the last year of my life teaching at a deaf high school in Kenya?? Can you? Can ya? Kenya? Well I sure can't! Ok, corniness aside, it seriously is a crazy thought that I've been in Kenya for over a year, and in Kilifi for almost that. I keep saying that I'm "coming home" for Christmas, and that is certainly true, but when I return to Kilifi after the holidays, I will also be "coming home." Kilifi is my home now and I couldn't love it any more. When I'm not here, I miss it. I miss Kilifi town and the beach and the bridge and creek and the million people who I don't recognize but know that I teach the deaf kids. I miss my grungy old house and my pakas, and the little rocky path I walk to school every morning. There are a lot of things about Kenya that I won't miss while I'm away, but there are a lot of things I will. Can you guess what I'll miss the most? (Hint: They're deaf.) That's right, my kids. I call them my kids, but many of them are my age. Even so, I still feel VERY protective of them and very responsible for their happiness. What's funny though, is that they've been the exact same thing for me, all throughout this entire year. We keep each other happy and we've all gotten quite good at it. We communicate so well, and understand each other so well, it blows my mind that I've only known them for a year. Some days it feels like yesterday I was sitting on that plane thinking "what the hell am I doing," and some days it feels like I've been here and known these kids forever. I think today is one of those forever days.

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 :)

Almost a real school!

Pole (sorry) that I haven't written in a while. Things have been only mildly exciting in Kenya. School is still school (take that to mean whatever you want), Kilifi is still wonderful (but getting hotter by the day), and my kids still mean the world to me. Sometimes they ask me so many non-stop questions that seem so silly and minute that I get frustrated and forget how much I love them, and why. Last week my Form 3 girls told me not to wear light-colored nail polish because gosh-darnit Sarah you're already white. Today I spent most of math lesson reminding Emmanuel that this is a deaf school and he can teach me Kiswahili later. And every morning, no matter how many times I tell them I don't like it, they offer me uji anyways. Those are just a few of the many reasons why I love them.

Wait, what's uji, you say? Why, it's porridge! I've told you about ugali right? - maize flour boiled with water until it forms a sticky cake-y consistency and tastes like nothing. But ugali is palatable, especially with beans or sukuma (bloiled kale), and I actually crave it now. Uji on the other hand, for some reason, is just horrible. Uji is ugali with -- wait for it -- more water. It's liguid ugali. Maybe it's because it doesn't come with beans or sukuma or green grahams, but it smells like nothing and tastes like even less. Kenyans love it though, and my kids scarf it down like it's a bowl full of chocolate ice cream. It is the only thing they get in the morning, and besides half a cup of tea at 10am, it's the only thing from 6am to 12:30pm. So I guess a little uji is better than nothing. Maybe.

What's cool though is that we actually have our own kitchen now, up at the secondary school, and my kids no longer have to eat with the primary kids, and get served primary-sized portions. Due to some miscommunication at the beginning of the term between the head of my school and the head of the primary school, we had to construct a kitchen really fast and get ourselves cooking our own food super quick. The basics went up in a day or two, and the rest followed shortly after. Here's what it looked like when it first went up:

We all were pretty excited when we were first able to cook for ourselves. So I took a bunch of pictures of that too. Including one that my kids think is infinitely hilarious: the mzungu stirring (or rather attempting to stir) ugali:

(can you see the giggle on Francis' face?)

Anyhoodles, this is what it looks like now (minus some doors that they just put on yesterday):

Another thing I always think about Kenya and how we do things here, is the difference in things like building houses and food preparation. In America, when you want beef you go to the grocery store and pick from multitudes of different cuts, weights, fat content, prices, everything. If you want beef in Kenya you either kill the cow yourself or go to the butcher who just killed the cow 5 minutes ago. I think cows are harder to kill than goats, so we eat a lot of goat here. Also, our ugali is straight from the land outside. The maize was grown right on our school grounds, the kernels were picked off the cob by every single one of my kids and I, and it was ground into flour at another teacher's house. The beans come from a neighboring farmer and the sukuma comes right from our own school shamba (garden). The kitchen is made of mud and sticks and food is always cooked over a wood fire. We sit in the sun and eat with our hands and for me, everything tastes good because it's organic and unprocessed and real and seems exactly the way it should be. No plastic packaging, no expiration dates, and definitely no factory processing. It's pretty great. 

So we're up and running with food, and save for a girls dormitory, we're almost a real school! Huzzah! The boys have also been doing a good job clearing a nearby field for football. After an afternoon of slashing and moving rocks they all celebrated with a giant football game before dinner. The field is a little rough and not level but I'm sure continuous afternoons of playing on it will totally do the trick. Also, a while back, the boys decided the wanted a new football, since the ones they had were old and weak and fell apart pretty easily. So they pooled their money and had me go to Tusky's to get one. They gave me 800 shillings and I found a ball for 750/-. I was pretty proud of myself for finding it and the boys were super excited when I brought it home. Unfortunately though, it broke within the next week and we were back at square one. So for some reason (maybe because I can't resist their endless begging, big brown puppy dog eyes, and beautiful smiles) I told them I would buy them a new ball, and a good one this time. I figured my judgement on the right one last time didn't work so I would go by price instead; the more money it is, the better the quality, right? Well this time I spent 2,000/- and thankfully the ball hasn't died yet. Fingers crossed it stays solid or I'm out another few thousand shillingis. 

Last week, and for about 8 consecutive days into last week, it rained non-stop. This is obviously good for crops and water tanks and stuff like that, but not good for walking or playing football, or cooking in a roofless mud hut. The rain ended a few days ago and hasn't been back since, and has been rapidly replaced with scorching heat, which is what I'm a little more familiar with here. BUT the rains left a giant lake in a valley next to school which, to my surprise and no one else's, has proven really resourceful for Kilifi residents. All manner of livestock come to drink from it. Every form of transportation vehicle has been driven in it to be washed. People come to wash clothes, to drink, and bathe, and you wouldn't believe the number of little naked Kenyan children that spend all day in it just playing. My kids and I can sit on the front porch of the boys dorm and have a really great view of our new Lake Victoria/local watering hole. 

Since the rains have stopped, I can see the water level getting low, and before too long it'll just be a big pile of dust again, but for now it's pretty cool. 

Here's another pic I took of the boys dorm (uber clean for the weekend):

I remember when I first ever walked into the dorm, I looked around and thought, man this is like workcamp, but for life. Everything seemed so similar to those weeks in the summer I would spend at church workcamp rebuilding houses and sleeping on gym floors. I couldn't believe the condition of things here at the beginning of the year - those "mattresses" as they call them are just pieces of 2-inch high foam, and underneath is just metal rods. I mean, talk about uncomfortable. But a year later I realize now I only thought that because I've seen something different. It might not always be better in everyone's eyes, but it's definitely different. So it's all about perspective. My boys haven't really known much else in life, so for them, it's totally and completely normal; and in fact kinda nice because it's brand new. The mattresses are clean and they're used to them. And now for me, nothing here really shocks me anymore. All that crazy cultural crap we had to adjust to is just life. Look at me! I'm adjusted! Well, mostly. I'm still learning how to play the get-things-done-but-be-really-indirect-about-it game. That could take a lifetime to master. 

The new group of Education volunteers (trainees) got here on the 5th of this month and are currently in training right now. Hooray! Like my group, some of them are in Machakos (the deaf ed-ers) and some are in Loitokitok (the hearing ed-ers). There are two new Secondary Deaf Ed trainees too, one of which will be coming to Kilifi next week to shadow me at school. Eek! It will be so fun, and the kids can't wait. ALSO, for this new group's Model School, Amanda and I will be going to Machakos to run things. That will be the last week in November, shortly after which I'll head to Nairobi for my mid-service medical exam, and then (hopefully healthy) I'll jump on a plane back to the States :)

So other than that, nothing else is new! I hope America is good :) My itinerary for the trip home is still taped to my living room wall and constantly reminding me how awesome Christmas is gonna be. 

And what better to end with than pics of the monsters. Don't be fooled by the innocent faces and cute sleeping positions.

Aight peeps, cheers and I miss you!

~ Shub out :)

PS I got yelled at by a Kenyan today for feeding my cats because there are starving people in Africa. Wait. What? 

I just can't win.