Walk like an Egyptian

What a world wind this past month has been! I feel like I have no place to start! I'll update more when I have a chance to sit and think but quick takes-- I finished up at my school and went to the coast, beautiful beaches, late nights, wonderful people. My next stop was Nairobi where I officially closed my service--it was exciting and bittersweet, about half my group went home and never made it to that point, so I was a bit proud for making it through.

My next trip was to Lodwar and Lake Turkana-- the travel gods did not smile upon me for this trip that I should describe, in more detail later. I'll just sum up. I sat for a long time in matatus, buses, trucks, and cars, waiting to leave, then I sat in matatus, buses, trucks, and cars, for hours in transit. I ate bad goat which came back to haunt me later. Snakes in beds, crazy "guides" with TB, completely different view on time and urgency. I was with good people and that made a huge difference.

Next I went to Ethiopia, the 10th African country I have visited. Ethiopia was amazing. The history and the culture are so rich, beautiful. From rock carved churches in Lalibela, to the castle of the queen of Sheba, and the arc of the covenant in Axum, it was magical.

Once again the ghost of Lodwar came to haunt my stomach and I dealt with the ghost of goat pasts. I got dysentery...again and was unable to climb Mount Kenya. I decided to high tail it to Egypt where I am right now! Cairo is busy, full of life and energy. I had a staring contest with King Tut this morning (he won), and I'll travel to Giza tomorrow to see the pyramids. I am also enjoying the afternoons with mint tea and hookah with the locals.

Next I'll travel to the U.K. to see some old friends of mine from the University of Ghana, many years ago. I have never left the airports of Europe or the U.K. so this will be a first for me, but I am looking forward to things like, washing machines, cheese, showers!

I do love to travel but this past month, I have dealt with the highs and lows of travel. A part of me knows I am going home so soon, and I long to be there, instead of thinking of it so much, but these next few years I may not be able to travel at all, so I am taking it all in. I love wandering new streets, and as my dad says " I am not lost I am only exploring" so I explore. I love feeling so small next to such old pieces of art and history. I love learning new things about myself and the world around me, but my heart is calling out back to a place that is my own- where that place is--who knows, but here I go.

"People are unreasonable, illogical, and self-centered. Love them anyway. If you do good, people may accuse you of selfish motives. Do good anyway. If you are successful, you may win false friends and true enemies. Succeed anyway. The good you do today may be forgotten tomorrow. Do good anyway. Honesty and transparency make you vulnerable. Be honest and transparent anyway. What you spend years building may be destroyed overnight. Build anyway. People who really want help may attack you if you help them. Help them anyway. Give the world the best you have and you may get hurt. Give the world your best anyway."

- Mother Teresa

No Goodbyes

Signed conversation

Rhoda: You are going to America?

Me: Yes in month 1( January) I will go to America,

Rhoda: What color is the plane?

Me: White, why?

Rhoda: So I will see you in the sky.

I watch as they tumble on each other, cartwheels, flips, and high kicks--their laughs, I want to always remember. I enter the compound to 20 little hands, wanting to assist with my things, I want to always remember these hands. I leave my house every morning, and walk toward the school, I am greeted with "good morning teacher" and 97 little smiles, I always want to remember these smiles.

These past few weeks have been full of different events. I had some newbies stay with me for one week and shadow my work, and I even made them teach a bit, and they did great, I am sure they'll make lovely Volunteers. I was also fortunate that their visit coincided with a “field day/ life skills day” that I had planned for the kids, so the newbie’s and another Health Volunteer were extra wranglers for the day.

I wanted to do something nice for my kids before they left; I considered re-painting the dinning hall a source of ire, as of recently; but I decided to go with my strengths, which is not art, but rather playing! The day started with face paint, sack race, three-legged race, and football tournament. In the afternoon we played Frisbee, and had a water balloon toss, which my kids have never seen before! Needless to say it was very entertaining, and the kids had a blast. We finished the evening with arts ( all the kids made pipe cleaner glasses--adorable) and crafts and some HIV/AIDS games.

It was great to see the kids having so much fun, and to see the newbie’s and the Volunteer fall in love with my kids! They really are the cutest kids, ever. I was proud to see everything fall into place, and mostly to see my smiling kids and hearing their squeals of delight. I would update adorable pictures, but my flash drive was destroyed, so no pictures until I return home I suppose.

I guess with 1 week and half left; I should be introspective about my experience but I won’t; not right now. I am doing everything the same as I always do at site, refusing to let the ticking clock distract me. Perhaps I am just in denial that the fact that my whole world for the past two years is coming to a close, or that I fear I will leave the best part of me in this little village, in this little school, in these 97 little people. No, for now I will sit on my stoop let the kids crowd around until dinner, and I will remain seated, without a care, in admiration. Goodbyes; not now.

I will head out at the end of this month to Mombasa to finish up a project; a video about HIV/AIDS counseling and testing. Then I will attend a farewell weekend with fellow Peace Corps Volunteers in my group, and make my way to Nairobi, where I officially “close my service”. After that I’ll make my way to Lake Turkana in the most remote part of the country, Northern Kenya. I will then fly to Ethiopia for a 10-day trip with one of my favorite people in the world! I will spend Christmas with some hostel buddies, and Boxing Day with my Kenyan Mama in Embu. Afterwards I will head out to the massive Mount Kenya; the mountain the country is named after; and the mountain I have stared at for two years. I will ring in the New Year 17,000 ft above sea level, staring out onto the land I have called home for two years. Then I will make my way back to Embu and spend a few quite days with my Kenyan Mama and visit my school-for the last time. I’ll fly to Egypt for a quick trip to the pyramids, and eventually to the U.K. for a week with old friends. Finally, after being away for over two years, I will fly to the United States. Inshalla.

No goodbye for now, let the adventure begin.

Success

These past few months have turned to weeks, and days—it hard to comprehend rational of time. Peace Corps is ephemeral by nature; two years is what you have, and as you experience highs, it is a ticking time bomb—a set of amount of time to accomplish something. During your lows, it is a sentence—a fixed time to when you can be “home” again. Yet they co-exist, somehow, to my vexation.

Mid-term exams were taken and all the students anxiously awaited the results; to their surprise, so did I. I have worked with my class 8 for 2 years now, in social studies—the most despised subject in the school. Every year the results from exam show that social studies always have the lowest average of all subjects. For students who struggle with English, social studies can be very—wordy. I didn’t know all this when I first began teaching 2 years ago, in fact I had no idea that the class I was taking on currently had a failing class average in the subject, I just knew my best subject was always social studies and history, so I eagerly choose this class.

Before I knew it I was thrown into the teaching gauntlet. I have had so many highs and lows teaching this class. There were days when I wanted to just walk out and cry; cry for the system that had failed these kids, and at time is feels as if it is almost designed for them to be unsuccessful. Yet, in small ways my students encouraged me, everyday. I could see them growing mentally, becoming curious, asking questions, and demonstrating concepts. Even when I felt beat down, I tried to enter the classroom with the same enthusiasm, and patience, I had the first day. My students brought their energy, and curiosity. Some days they brought their attitudes, hormones, and general teenage behavior, and I brought my frustrations, and exasperation, yet someone we preserved together.

The midterms are the last exam results I will see, in two weeks my class eight will seat for the national exams; the results won’t be released until January, after I have left the school. So as the teachers posted the results for the exams I anxiously waited until classes begun and the children left. I watched each minute pass with a vigilant stare. Finally when all the children ran to class, I approached the bulletin board and traced the lines of subjects with my finger. Social studies; all of my students had improved, tremendously. If I look at the results from when I first began teaching this class they began with a failing average; to this exam, in which they now have a C+ average as a class—with none of them failing. My heart busted into a million little pieces, I was so overwhelmed with unadulterated joy! Later, I met my class; told them how proud I was of them, their eyes swelled with pride, and their smiles were so genuine. I signed “ I told you if you work hard, you will improve” they responded “yes teacher, thank you”. We have a few weeks until they seat for the national exam, and there is something different in all of them, a passion, a confidence, a new life breathed in them. We are not missing a beat, continuing until the national exam, where I will be a wreck, hoping, wishing, crossing my fingers for them!

I thought as a nice reward would be a field trip to Embu, as part of our life skills class. Our main event was getting a tour of the Post Office ( pictured above), which they all enjoyed, especially when they were able to stamp some of the letters. They were so excited, to see a new and different place, to understand something new, I was proud.


I think about the two years I have spent in the classroom, I think of everything I will take away, and leave behind. Even though I am beyond proud of my classes because of the improvements they have made academically, I hope I taught them more. I hope I taught them how to be curious, to ask questions, to know their rights, to challenge themselves, to see a person for who he or she is not what they look like, to be more human. When I think of everything that I will take away—well that list could consist of a whole book. It was best of times, it was the worst of times, I think that one has been taken.... I will say I have seen great warmth in people, I have seen charity, and honesty, but I have also seen corruption, apathy, and even violence. Yet the juxtaposition, and the emotion that comes with living a in world with both, well, often leaves me vexed. I know that every time I am discouraged by the world, I throw my energy into my students; they are my hope. I’ll put it this way, a phrase I hear often from people at home is that I am changing the world, but the way I really see it, for better or worse, the world has changed me.

Like a Rolling Stone

Every year the jacaranda blooms in October. All year it sits in silence- amongst the trees, just waiting for its time to shine, patient.

Then like a red headed stepchild, it blooms- and there it is exposed to the world, all the green leaves fall, all thats left is a smear of electric purple, that rains on all of Embu.

I love jacaranda season.

I recently finished my COS ( close of service) conference at a nice hotel not so far from me. Its hard to describe what I am feeling these days--part nostalgia, fear, excitement, curiosity, happiness, and a longing. There are million things I love about living in Kenya, I have become so accustomed to life here, I actually find it hard to remember a different life.

I love the excitement I feel every morning, the quite cups of tea, the line of children who run to help me carry me books, the greeting from the other teachers, the time spent alone. I get so much joy from the smallest gestures of kindness, the small hands signing- big ideas, the time, time to read, to think, make the world go silent--and to just be.

For all the these months, time has slowed me down to a snails pace, like a donkey dragging its feet, now it taunts me with its change of pace! These next few weeks will include helping with the new groups training, finishing up some projects, taking the GRE, applying to grad school, finalizing my travel plans, tying up lose ends here, finishing strong with my class 8 who are seating for national exams next month, saying goodbye to fellow volunteers, friends, and my students.

I feel almost the same way I did 2 years ago! Everything I have known for 2 years will be turned upside down, I'll be thrown into a different culture ( well is it different, or am I?), but I am strangely excited by the next adventure. This experience has taught me so much-- equivalent to my 4-years at university. My teachers Emerson, Hemingway, Marquez, Eggars, and the hundreds of other authors I have read--along with all my co-workers, community members, and my students- who teach me something new everyday.

I'll finish up these next few months, trying to soak everything up, trying to absorb all the happiness here, so I can use it for a rainy day when things may not be so bright in the future.

Whatever the next adventure brings--I am ready to jump, without hesitation.

100 days

100 day ( give or take) until I am done with Peace Corps service. I have taken stock on a lot of past memories and things I have written, it feels like a whole life wrapped up in 21 months. I feel as if I left for Kenya 10 years ago, so much has changed.

Behind the purple prose of this blog, are my experiences here, which literally full of dramatic highs and desperate lows. I sit here with a mere 100 days left its hard to encompass, the magnitude of it all that has happened and everything that will come.

I have started my third and last term at St. Luke's. I try to count how many pots of water I warmed for my bucket baths, how many bowls of oatmeal I've eaten, how many times I have seen the morning parade performed by class 4, how many books I've read at my desk, how many lesson plans I have prepared, how many children I have taught, how many letters I've received and written, how many chickens I've chased from my house, how many times I laughed so hard I cried, or how many times I cried so hard I had to laugh, how many times my students thanked me for teaching, how many times they've understood concepts, how many conversations I had with my neighbors,how many lessons I've learned in the silence of the evenings on my stoop, how many times I've just appreciated life. Its an eternity.

For now I'll let Christine sit on my lap, Caroline play with my hair, Patrick carry my books, Jackline practice finger spelling my name, Consolata hold my hand. 100 more times.

South Africa

I sway back and fourth in the frigid, restless, Atlantic Ocean, as the rain preserves, I hold my breath, ready. I am not safely nestled in front of my TV, for shark week; in fact I am not even on the boat, I am in the water, surrounded by great white sharks.

I calmly grab the bars of my cage, and think how did I end up here? As shark bait none the less? The waves crash and the captain orders the boat back- we only have 20 minutes. The squall has snuck upon us, and the white-capped waves are growing stronger by the minute. This is the most dangerous part of the trip; an impending capsized boat. Yet here I am, in the unforgiving Ocean where the Indian Ocean meets the Atlantic, and battle it out, where seals migrate every year, and where Great Whites come to feast on their blubber, in South Africa; this is shark alley.

This is one of my last days in South Africa; a trip that proved to be as magical as it was memorable. Since landing in Jo’burg, South Africa has left me something to think about. After traveling to West Africa and living in East, I never thought a place like this existed. Paved roads, stop lights, Mcdonalds? Where was I? Huge cities, even bigger townships, and a history as torn as a Shakespearean tale. South Africa was quite the anomaly.

I swallowed everything Capetown had to offer—diversity, charm, edge, history, beauty, a Big Mac. The mysterious table mountain frames the whole city, and striking cliffs the hug the coastline. Everyone is still alive from the buzz of the World Cup, proud of their accomplishments, and rightfully so. I wander the streets wide-eyed taking it all in with awe. People singing on the street, gives me the chills, the hum of the curio market, and the solemn moments inside a church turned museum, telling the tales of apartheid’s cruel conjecture. Capetown; it is what I needed.

Any trip is only as good as the company you keep; and I was in luck. Two of my fellow Volunteers, were my partners in crime, confidants, lenders, moms, sisters, photographers, co-pilots, captains, interpreters, wine tasters, and more than anything friends; the best one could ask for. We left Kenya together and clung to each other in heat of Cape Point, and the chills of an Atlantic squall.

We rented a car; the smallest, little white car you could think of, but it was a nice break from the oversized matatu’s filled to the brim with chickens, people, and goats. We headed out south, the Cape of Good Hope where the Portuguese stumbled in hundreds of years ago, and somehow they were not enamored by the juxtaposed landscape, and continued on. The three of us were much more captivated. The fold mountains that pushed their way out of plates shifting; raised above the wild Atlantic waves, so pristinely blue; and windswept vegetation, fight to survive, the gentle greenery that beckons. We hiked to the Cape Point lighthouse, taking in views of cliffs and waves, and a kind sun above. Then to the most South Western point on the Continent—the Cape of Good Hope. I sat watching the waves crashing, and said a prayer of Good Hope to my baby nephew whom I have never met, my hope-- that he sees this with his own eyes one day, I hope he is always curious. We leave as the sun chases us down. Off to wine country—Stellenbosch, where some of the best wine in the world is created.

In Stellenbosch we walked the white washed streets and old buildings tucked in the valleys of rolling hills. The next morning we began a tour of 5 local wineries—after interpreting up a storm for my friend, I was rewarded with …several glasses of wine. We pooled our money together and splurged on a cheese sampler, perhaps the best purchase of my life. We took in the warm sun, the smells of good wine, and peaceful valleys dotted with vineyards. That night feasted on load of cheese, good bread, apples, and of coarse another bottle of Stellenbosch’s finest, with plenty of laughs, and signing until our hands ached.

The next day we headed out to Hermanus—the best place for land based whale watching; home to the enormous Southern Right Whale. Every year they make their way here to bask in the bay, for the month, before they’re off again. We walked the edge of cliffs spotting a few out on the distance; we watched random fins slap the water, puff from blowholes. As we moved further down the shore I spotted two whales not 100 meters from where we were. I ran for a better look on top of a cliff, found myself a comfortable rock, and just sat, feeling hopelessly small to this gentle giant. We consumed the ocean air, the setting sun, and the peacefulness of the moment; quite the contrast to the next day.

Back in the cage the water crashes, the skipper nervously watching the cage as we sway with Atlantic. The sky is gray and the rain is vindictive, the white seagulls swarm, attracted to the chum churning at the back of the boat, the air is thick with its stench, mixed with the salty sea. My feet dangle within the cage and I look to my right, and smile bright to my friend, my hands to cold to sign, we both read each others faces; excitement! When I hear the call—“ DOWN DOWN DOWN” I clench the metal in my fists, push myself down into the ocean, and assess my surroundings. I am in a green world, astonishingly calm compared to the scene above, holding my breath, waiting for what feels like an eternity, and then I see it—in a flash, the flip of a tail darting side to side, and in an instant, gone. I hold myself down looking in each direction for the shark, in awe of how fast it can move, but this is not my world, I am a foreigner and must come up for air.

I look to my friend, we give eachother toothy grins as I push my bangs out of my goggles view, I grab her hand- how awesome is this?! We sit in the cage scanning the water for another movement, yet from this point of view I am helpless, I am at the will of the ocean. The waves crash and the cage raises for a moment then clings once again to the boat. I calm myself , and wait for the call “ DOWN DOWN DOWN” again I quickly duck in the water, only to come nose to nose with a great white shark. It swims inches from my face, with a precision unknown to me, it's black eye passing my brown, and just like that its gone, into the depths of the sea. I go up for air and I can’t contain myself, I sign “cool” to my friend, “ I know” she signs. Then once again DOWN DOWN DOWN, we sink once again and she comes in dodging the cage, I can count the scars on her skin, she turns with such care, so powerful in her domain. I watch as she effortlessly glided into the green depths.

This is not the killer from Jaws I knew; she is beautiful, graceful, and powerful. Never once did I think the shark was “after” me, in fact inside the cage, I doubt she even knew anything but a boat was in front of her. This is not a bloodthirsty animal, but rather an animal that should be protected, and revered the same as other great predators, lions, leopard, bears, etc. Sharks, especially the great white sharks, are just misunderstood.

The last shark gave quite a show to those on the boat, getting out of the water, and showing her teeth. From bellow the water I could just see the flashes of fin in the water, zooming like lighting in a zig zag motion, towards the boat and in an instant away again. Then we were called in, the swells were growing rapidly, and because the weather is prone to change on the drop of hat, we were safer going back to shore. The waves crashed, and water was flying everywhere, I was still high off my shark sighting I welcomed each wave, the crashing of water in my face, my lips soaked in salt, the jump of the boat, I was alive. We stopped briefly next to an island full of seals, they covered the island like a fur coat, feasting on fish and trying to avoid the great whites. Then quickly headed back to violent waves, and eventually to land. I thought I would never be warm again. I shook uncontrollably in the horrid claws of hypothermia, and made my way to the car, where the three of us huddled in the small white car clinging to the heater. My shark experience was over, but the moments I spend among the great whites, I will take with me for the rest of my life.

We took an afternoon drive amongst the farms and rolling hills, to the jutting cliffs of Cape Algunas the Southern most point of the African continent; where many wayward ships rest among the Indian and Atlantic ocean malicious meeting point, and a light house shines like a beacon of hope, or like a tricky siren. I am struck my the wind and cold outside our car, and I take off in a sprint down the boardwalk, to the southern most tip of Africa, I run to the ends of the continent, alive.