Vacation

Time for a vacation again! This is my last vacation as a Peace Corps Volunteer! The rules state you cannot take vacation in the last three months of your service and this is the last month off of school before it is time to close, so here it goes!

Right now I am in Mombasa, the second largest city in Kenya, visiting my good friend for a week.

Next week I will head to SOUTH AFRICA!!!

Then I will head back to Mombasa for some more training.

Then it will be time for school again!

I am sure my next post will be full of adventure stories but for now enjoy some pictures from this last term.

Peace Corps is Hard

I’ve wanted to say this for quite some time now, but never felt like I really could. I try to write about things that have shaped me, the positive moments that enlighten, but I am realizing, some time the shades of grey lead to a more, real experience, so here is it the moment of truth…

Peace Corps is hard.

Peace Corps is the hardest thing I have ever done. Being isolated from people from my culture, and thrown into another, which some cases have views that are poles apart from my core beliefs, like the treatment of women, or children with special needs, and trying to navigate through both these world, while staying healthy and more importantly…sane…it is hard!

So why do it? I have been asking myself this question for the past few months when the difficulties seemed too much, and I think I found the answer; those few fleeting moments of grace.

I experience a mess of emotions tangled within each other; loneliness, independence, anger, joy, disillusion, satisfaction but within all of this are the moments of absolute calmness and clarity, and near benediction, and that makes everything ok again.

The other day I had the one of roughest night of my life; dysentery, once again( I’ll spare you the detail I am sure you don’t want to know). I woke up unable to do anything for myself. One call to my mama, and she was by my side the whole day. She cleaned my house from top to bottom; scouring the floors as if the fiercer she cleaned the faster I’d get better. The whole day people flooded my house, helping cook, or to just say, “pole” (sorry). It was genuine humanity.

I also find moments like these with my students all the time. After finishing interpreting the constitution (which is being voted on August 4^th in Kenya) to my class eight students, we finally had our election day. We had been learning about the how elections work in Kenya, the constitution and about the government. It all culminated in our mock election; I told them that it was going to be a secret ballot that not even I would know what they voted for, but that I wanted them to think for themselves. I made them pretend ID’s, had their names on lists, and had a voting box ready. All of them voted and I announced the winner. They were all very excited, and I could see them actually making connections to the material, current events, and their lives in the future. It was one of those rare moments teachers always hope for. After I was done with my lesson, my students thanked me for teaching them, asked me to stay, to continue teaching, which was a huge compliment.

While these moments are rare; they are very powerful, and are able to reenergize against insurmountable odds, ( culture, religion, gender, poverty) and are able to enlighten.

My Peace Corps service is coming to an end in the next few months; next term will be my last at Saint Luke’s. I will remember those moments with burning precision.

Term Two

A small photo update. We just finished mid-term exams, so half of this term left! Things are moving along, I feel very confident with my teaching now, and its great to see all the progress we've made in the past year and a half. It is "winter" now and since I live in the highland it is actually cold! I have to wear a jacket, and socks! Everyone is really excited about the World Cup, the school only uses the T.V. on the weekends so that is the only time I am able to watch the games, but its still exciting! I make the kids cheer for all my favorite teams ( Ghana,U.S., and Agentina), but I think they enjoy it!



My clothes line and Mount Kenya in the back ground.

My babies practicing their dances.

Cristine and Jackline, they come to my house to read books in the afternoon.

On The Cusp

The crowd anxiously sits, shifting in their chairs, as a local politician speaks about the Kenyan holiday—yet their eyes are focused on one thing; boxes. Now these boxes sit at the front of the stage, as an ever present reminder of their importance and everyone knows what is inside—the constitution. The proposed constitution is a document that has been in the works for quite some time, and upon its completion is being distributed to Kenyans who will vote in August a simple choice—yes or no.

Kenya has had constitutions before, which began with a Majimbo Constitution, constructed at the time of independence in 1964, with help of the British (former colonizers), and another revision was made, yet their was need to create a constitution independent from British influence. The process began years ago and the first draft ultimately received a no vote. They began drafting a new constitution and finally completed it in May.

The speeches finally ends as people, pounce the boxes, each hastily trying to grab a constitution. A police officer has to step in the control the crowd but eventually everyone gets one. I make a bee line for the boxes—yet back off when I see the crowd grow, a friend of my snags me two, one for my teachers, the other for my students.

The idea of a government being so malleable is exhilarating too me. As a student and lover of history, you always imagine what it took to form a nation; I wished to be a fly on the wall James Madison (father of the U.S. constitution, nerd alert) when he was carefully crafting the constitution. Everything has a feeling of being “set in stone”, stories of our forefathers feel unreasonably foreign, from a different time, almost given folklore status. Yet here I am in Kenya witnessing history- and everything feels so obtainable, so tangible.

Everyday the break room at the school is filled with the buzz constitution talk. We engage in all sorts of political debates about the nature of a Constitution and I am asked many questions about my own. Which somewhere from the dark spaces in my mind I recall—I still somehow remember the whole preamble ( thanks Mr. Skeen). It seems all of Kenya is filled with the excitement, or opposition.

I plan on interpreting the whole constitution to my students in class 8. I teach social studies, and I feel it is imperative for them to know. Most of my students are left in the dark—in fact ¾ of my class had no idea what a constitution even was, yet I remain determined to finish all 500 plus pages. One teacher suggested I was wasting my time trying to explain the constitution to them, at times I feel like many people believe the Deaf should remain in this other world, outside of the hearing—this attitude of “why should they be bothered”. At times I admit it is difficult to press on; because they have very little understanding of the world outside their school and their village; and are denied access to the buzz I so enjoy; they are lost amongst the movement of lips that reveal so little. Regardless I want them to feel included, to feel apart of this country that bore them, I want them to know that this is their Kenya.

Oh the hazards of aid

“We will be lost.” Nelson, an HIV counselor, recounts about the recent news that funding for antiretroviral drugs or ARVs for HIV positive patients-may slow or stop, from the United States. In the early 2000’s the Bush administration began the PEPFAR program, ( President's Emergency Plan for AIDS Relief ) which provides relief in many different ways ranging from funding projects, paying directly for medicine, and even funding individual Peace Corps Volunteers. Yet with the world feeling the pinch from the recession, the PEPFAR and other aid organization may not have the resources to continue.

Nelson sits in his office within a testing clinic, which provides testing services to Kenyans for free. He has managed the office for 4 years now, and has counseled HIV positive patients who have survived from the life-saving ARV’s. The afternoon light trickles in as a group of teenagers come waltzing in- for a prevention drama they are preparing.

“It seems the trend of helping people with AIDS has passed,” he says eyeing as the teens walk by. Grants that provide 200,000 people with the ARV’s will expire soon, and Nelson and the rest of his staff wait for the news on whether or not the program will continue.

He stares at the palm of his hand, when asked about the future of the patients who may be refused medicine due to cut backs “we could change this,” he says still staring into his answerless hand.

“ We rely too heavily on aid, we thought that the funding would never end, so we never planned for how to help these people ourselves, and now what will happen?”

The power and influence of aid is undeniable, when former President Bush established PEPFAR, he chose to fund mostly faith based organizations, in particular ones that stressed abstinence above all else. The press also regarded the establishment of PEPFAR as a response to an approval rating gone sour, whether or not that was the case, the influence of aid is undeniable.

“ In Kenya we have some money, we could of set-aside money for funding, and make our own policies.” With the world reeling from a recession HIV/AIDS is becoming an expensive disease, comparatively to water sanitation, or malaria. The future of HIV/AIDS is yet to be seen, but for Nelson has one request for the future “ I want Kenyans to start thinking of Kenyans.”

***

One of the biggest lessons I’ve learned in my many months here is just how complicated aid can be. As a volunteer it is something I come across daily; many people believe because I am a mzungu that I am a walking ATM; whether it be in the form of trying to charge me triple the price that they would charge a Kenyan, or demanding that I give them money, it stems from the belief about aid. It’s easy to get irritated with the constant demands for money; especially since I make the same wages as a Kenyans teacher, it easy to say to people that they should help themselves; but my time as a teacher has taught me, never assume anything—everything is learned, in one way or another. I have read several books about the topic (if you are especially interested read Dead Aid by Dambisa Moyo a Zambian economist believes that the thought of aid working is a myth), and yet I have this resounding feeling that aid must continue. HIV/AIDS continues to ravage this continent; and the alternative (ceasing aid); well it is just too grim to imagine.

I am always reminded of the parable about the man throwing star fish into the ocean, when one man suggests that he could never save them all, he replies how the one thrown back in feels. I do feel aid should continue, but it needs to be responsible; and more then anything—sustainable! I believe more then anything that education is sustainable; by helping one person you can help a whole population, small change does not make the news; but it is the most powerful. I see many projects with donors wanting to see computer labs, or libraries, they want to see tangible results instantly; but I’ve seen libraries that are never touched, computers that are locked away, deemed too nice to be used, or lack of personnel who know how to use or maintain equipment. Yet the one who gives; is the ones that decide what happens—regardless of the results.

Aid is complicated; quite like most things in life, and I was quite naïve to think otherwise; yet I still think aid is respectable. I choose to help one of my students to go to secondary school; but after careful thought and reflection. I believed in him, in his ability, and ultimately I believe his education would be a make sustainable impact on Deaf Kenyan community; one child at a time. He is now number two in his class, and I have faith that he will continue to succeed. I know I will not build any buildings, or have any statues erected in my honor, but I do believe I have had an impact on some of these students. Besides, growing up I don’t remember the computers I used, or the libraries I was in, I remember the people who believed in me. And sometimes I can go to bed with smile.

Ginnie Seger: Official Baby Holder of Kenya

Once again life at Saint Lukes begins again—term 2, here we are! I had a very interesting month off which included a visit from my parents, a girls empowerment camp, diversity and peer support training, and a Behavior Change Communication workshop/Deaf NGO Fair.

When I sit back and think about April, it feels like a weird dream where my parents showed up, and I cannot tell the difference from one day to another, but predominant theme is a feeling of accomplishment. Many of these projects I was a part of from start to finish. I remember multiple times this month sitting back, proud of all the work and ideas going around. So no crazy rafting, or avoiding baboons, or matatu doors falling off, but a quite pride—that is perpetual.

Today was the first day of school; everyday I prepare for this day the same as I did as a kid, but with a bit more excitement rather than dread. Every term I am up and ready at 8 only to find no one; every term. I always seem to forget that no one else really looks forward to the first day of school, and therefore doesn’t show up until 10 or not at all. So when the teachers show up we always wait for the kids to trickle in which takes days, weeks, even for a few; months. No real work actually happens so I normally wander around the school—trying to avoid just going to my house to read, in order to get in precious “face time” ( in my experience if people can’t see you they always believe you are sleeping), yet I really have nothing to do, and I wonder if I look more weird just wandering aimlessly yet today I have found my niche! Ginnie Seger: BABY HOLDER OF KENYA, I just gave myself that title, but it doesn’t make it less real.

We have very small children coming to this school, which is a boarding school. As you can probably imagine separating a 3-year-old from their home, and their mothers is not very pleasant. Some are more buoyant than others, but some try to run away, kick, scream, and even bite. It’s all very dramatic and my heart breaks every time I see this happen. Yet my school has found a solution to all the distress—me! Instead of wandering around trying to look busy, I do this with a crying toddler. Most of the kids here are familiar with me from last term or last year so they allow me to hold them. When their mother leaves the baby is given to me—as I try to smile them into submission—but it works. These babies just cry until they are tried and I rock them back and fourth, until we can move onto just holding hands, then standing side by side, and by the end of the day they are free as a bird! Once in awhile there are the stranglers who don’t want to let go and instead follow me to my house crying at my door, which makes me want to adopt them right then and there, but I encourage them to play with the other kids, who will be their family in no time.

I look forward to holding more babies tomorrow, and seeing some of my older students. This is my second to last term and I feel an impending sense to hold on to them for a little longer, to write just a little more about my experience, and be fully present in these moments—perhaps it will make the time go just a bit more slowly. Yet I know my attempts to control time is futile, I can still hold on—literally.

Signing Times

In Nairobi for my Behavior Change Communication Workshop today so I am taking advantage of the awesome internet here!

This is a video my mom took of my students and myself.