My Stance on Animals

This post is Part #2 of today's blogging. 

I'm getting the sense that it is not possible to visit Africa without talking about the wildlife. Before I get into this post, I want to make clear where I stand in terms of animals. 

1. I don't really like animals. I’m just going to say that right off the bat. Most people are appalled to hear this statement, but I can genuinely say that though I have absolutely nothing against animals, I also just don't love them or see the appeal in pets the way many people do. In coming to Africa, I was sure that I did not want to volunteer on wildlife conservation projects, simply because I don't like animals enough to devote all my time to them. 

2. For a long time, I've kept this opinion a secret from others. And maybe even a bit from my self. As I said, people become completely bewildered and offended upon hearing that I don't like animals, reason enough to not shout this out to the world. 

3. All said, I think animals can be completely beautiful and incredible to witness. And I am in Africa. I have nothing against seeing all the animals that I possibly can while here and am so excited to have that opportunity. 

Two weekends ago, Michelle, another godmother of mine in Kenya for work for a couple months, took me to the baby elephant orphanage. The elephants were precious. Though it was completely pouring the entire time we were visiting them (and it's not at all supposed to be the rainy season right now,) they were so cute and red and small. By small, I mean like maybe my height of 5' 8''. They were slipping and sliding all over the place in the mud. 

After the two of us were completely soaked and covered in dirt, the sun came out and we went to feed the giraffes. These two animal stops are two of Nairobi's biggest tourist attractions. I fed a giraffe a couple handfuls of food and wondered how he'd managed not to get crazy fat from the tourists. 

Michelle totally and wonderfully understands everything I'm feeling and experiencing here, after living in Africa for more than a decade. We had a great day. The animals were beautiful. I quickly washed my hands after feeding the giraffe. 

Then this past weekend I went somewhere not listed as Trip Advisor's #1 and #2 Nairobi attractions. Rose, the godmother with whom I'm staying, has a friend who lives on a cattle ranch and wildlife preserve outside of Nairobi. Rose, Kendwa, and I spent the weekend at his beautiful home. 

At night, a herd of wildebeest grazed outside the door of my cottage. And, of course, they made wildebeest noises all night long – super fun for sleeping. Monkeys hung out on the veranda. Giraffes galloped across the wooded savannah. On game drives, zebras grazed alongside our jeep. Gazelles and warthogs scattered as I biked towards them. Ostriches stuck their heads in the ground, as usual.

  

Kendwa, Rose's daughter, had brought a friend along for the weekend. And try as I might to get the two of them to be quiet as we biked (I biked, they attempted to run alongside,) we saw more animals fleeing their shouts of "GAZELLE!" than animals standing and observing us. Oh well. 

I haven't thought too much about animals since I was in the earliest years of elementary school. When, like all other girls in my class, I had decided I wanted to be a veterinarian when I grew up. Thankfully, I've since changed my mind. However, since being here, I can see the appeal in animals just a bit more. 

Winging Teaching

I had lots to talk about in today's blogging, particularly since it’s been a while, but I just couldn't make it all fit together decently. So. This is Part #1 (of 2) of my postings. 

Mom, it’s your lucky day. TWO blog posts in ONE day.

The last two weeks of teaching have been much the same as the first two days. The school has not made me a schedule, which means that I basically sit around until someone says "oh, you should come teach this class right now." And it's okay, because I like the kids and I’m enjoying teaching math and science. But right now I'm kind of serving as a fairly clueless substitute teacher, who has no real purpose at the school until I'm called upon to help.

So things can be a bit frustrating. Especially when no one asks for help and it's up to me to figure out which teachers have failed to show for their classes. 

The lack of organization is sometimes a little more than I’m used to. It’s occasionally a free-for-all in terms of scheduling. Teachers go to classes when they feel like it, without regard for the student-rung bell at the end of each period. They'll show up 20 minutes into the 35-minute period, or they'll stay an extra 15 minutes after it ends. Sometimes they'll hang in the staff room instead of teaching. Or they'll use PE time to teach English or math. 

A science mission to find flowers and identify their parts.

The kids, on the other hand, keep to their schedules. They are smart and some of the most motivated students I have ever encountered. Whenever they don’t have a teacher during a class period, or during their designated “Preps” time before, during, and after school, the kids tutor each other and review all material together. I’ve walked into classrooms to find students writing notes all over the board while their classmates listen silently. This is the first time I’ve witnessed this sort of willingness to learn. It’s more than a bit inspiring.

I'm now appreciating how difficult it is to teach older kids, especially in math and science, and especially, especially with no advance notice or prepared lesson plans. On the spot to teach, one of my fallbacks is to have the kids act things out, which they thoroughly enjoy. This week we acted out the inside parts of a flower, among other things. 

Two weeks ago, I walked into the staff room during morning break to find that there were salesmen unloading electric kettles, deep fryers, mosquito zappers, and thermoses around the room for staff to inspect and purchase. I did not purchase a crock-pot or electric lantern or blender. 

A note on food. We eat either beans and maize or beans and rice for lunch every single day, on an alternating schedule. This is the free meal that our public school provides for the kids. I thought I was done with beans and rice when I left Honduras. It’s okay, though, because Mom basically raised me on a diet of rice and beans – I’ve come prepared.

After our Friday morning assemblies, the kids have a half-hour of prayer and worship, in various classrooms according to faith. Yesterday the science teacher told me I should accompany him while he talked to the Protestant kids (he's a Seventh Day Adventist, I think.) I stood in the back of the room while they talked in Kiswahili about god, and it all went over my head. Near the end, the teacher announced to the group of 80-some kids, that teacher Eliza was here today and that she is a Jew. They all turned to stare at me. Some jaws dropped. And when prompted by the teacher, they breathed a collective "wow." He then explained to the children that Jews are Christians. And had them repeat, “Jews are  . . . ?” “Christians!”  

I kept quiet and held the peace. That was my morning.

The Deep End

Two days ago, on Thursday, I started volunteering at a different school. This school is a public primary school serving mostly kids from surrounding slum areas. It is located inside Karura forest, a large community-protected nature reserve in Nairobi, and a 25-minute walk from where I’m staying.

On Thursday morning, as per the instructions of my godmother, I arrived at the school. The head teacher asked me if I was a certified teacher, I explained that I was not, and he asked me what subjects I’d be able to teach. An hour later, he brought me to stand in the doorway of Class Six (5^th grade, I think?), instructed me to teach, and disappeared.

I felt a little bit as though I had been pushed off a small cliff. Nevertheless, I managed to stay cool and began by introducing myself to the class. Then I asked the kids how old they were and what subject they were supposed to be learning. “Science!” was their response.

“What are you learning in science right now?”

Let me just say that textbooks are quite a teaching tool. At my very alternative high school, we only ever used full textbooks for math class. Therefore, I was not brought up to truly appreciate the value of this resource.

Thankfully, the students had textbooks. Never mind that they were all different science textbooks, but there were enough books in the room for every two people to share. The kids showed me what they were supposed to be starting in class that day, common communicable diseases, and we took it from there. I grabbed a textbook and started teaching, fully aware of the fact that I had never before taught science, nor had I ever heard the term “communicable disease.”

A while later, a student came into the room and announced that I was supposed to be teaching his class at that moment. I followed him out the door to Class Eight, and repeated the introductions and questions.

“What subject are you in right now?”

“Science!”

They were learning about sexually transmitted infections. Following the textbooks, we learned about syphilis and gonorrhea, the kids laughing all the while not at the subject matter, but at my English pronunciation. I have to say, I was very impressed at the kids’ ability to talk about STIs, sexual intercourse, and reproductive anatomy. There was no giggling, no embarrassment, and no apparent discomfort. I think that reveals a lot about the quality of the Kenyan education that these kids are receiving, as well as the benefit of science health topics that are so relevant to their lives. I am still so pleased that they are able to productively have these discussions.

After lunch, some students from Class Six came to retrieve me, and announced once again that they were learning science. We continued studying tuberculosis and malaria, the two communicable diseases deemed most applicable and necessary by their textbooks. We acted out the symptoms of malaria and talked about what a vaccine actually is, all the while me trying not to invent information that I didn’t know and trying to reconcile the fact that they all had different information on the pages in front of them.

The kids were well behaved – much more so than I’d ever encountered in Honduras. I think they were just so surprised to see a white woman teaching them their science classes that they didn’t know quite what to think. I am definitely the palest teacher that they’ve ever had. Regardless, I’ve heard that public school students in Kenya are generally very well behaved; otherwise they are kicked out of school.

After Class Six, I headed to Class Seven – the biggest class, 36 students – where they, too, were learning science. We learned about drug abuse and tobacco. I get the sense that Class Seven is the naughty class, especially due to size. They were very fond of laughing at me, my accent, and the way I look. Fortunately, I am very much okay with kids laughing at me. I was also surprised to find that there was an age range of five or six years represented among the students.

After the period, the students explained to me that classes were done and that it was time for games. So they brought me out to the very dusty field. I taught them a game for a bit, realized I didn’t see any other teachers, went to the staff room, and then headed home. The end, Day 1. 

I walked home positive I’d found the very bottom of the deep end. And I can honestly say that that did not surprise me.

Day 2 began with an assembly, at which every single faculty member decided they had to have something to say. It dragged on for a while, especially in Kiswahili, which I most definitely do not speak.

Afterwards, the science teacher (who it seems was away for training this week) showed me the science resources and texts he has, which is good, as apparently I am going to be a math and science teacher at the school.

The day progressed much the same as the day before. Science, science, science. And then math to Class Four. And then more science and kids laughing at me. Class Four decided that they wanted me to teach their physical education class, so I quickly improvised that.

After classes were over for the day, the other teachers could see I needed to get out of school. They asked whether or not they would see me tomorrow, Saturday, and then told me I could leave. I learned that the kids have a couple classes on Saturday, but that school is sort of optional for the teachers. So I told them that no, I would not be attending school on the weekends.

Apparently on Monday I’ll maybe get a schedule of the classes I’m teaching. As well as maybe some curriculum objectives.

It’s all quite interesting. And new. I have no sense of what the kids are supposed to be learning, what level they are at, or how teaching generally goes in Kenya. The teachers don’t seem to pay much attention to the bells that go off every 35 minutes, signaling the end of a period. The kids’ uniforms are literally falling apart from wear. Monkeys run through the schoolyard and across classrooms roofs.

We will see what next week brings, but right now, I’m so thrilled that weekends exist.

Oh, and did I mention that the toilet is a squat toilet? Yay.

A Sharp Contrast

I am here, and right now, here means Kenya.

In the past week, I have seen only nice parts of Nairobi – international embassy residential neighborhoods, private schools, shopping centers, and a community-protected forest. Because of that, I am simply blown away by how different all of this is to my experience in small-town Honduras.

In Honduras, I shared a room with two, or sometimes three, other people. Here, I have my own room, with a comfy bed. I no longer wake up sore in the morning. I also have a full-length mirror, enabling me to see more than just a reflection of my head and shoulders.

My home has furniture and carpets. I have seen no rats or tarantulas.

I can drink the tap water. The running water has not gone off. There is even hot water and a pool in our compound.

There are no piles of dirty dishes here, waiting next to the sink for days, for someone to take the initiative to wash them while the water is on. We have a housekeeper.

The fridge works. As does the washing machine.

The supermarket in this neighborhood is just about the same size as the small supermarket in Cofradía. But it has everything I could ever want, including chocolate chips, a selection of cheeses, many brands of peanut butter, and vitamin supplements. Rather than an entire aisle dedicated to cooking oil and margarine in plastic squeeze tubes.

At every gate, whether to a private home or to a shopping center, are stationed guards. At shopping centers, they will check each car as it enters the parking lot. Maybe I didn’t spend enough time in wealthy areas of San Pedro Sula to notice something similar.

There are so many international people around. I don’t get stared at quite as much when I run through the neighborhood, and in the shopping centers, I look quite normal.

Everyone speaks English. I may not always understand the accent, but it’s English, nonetheless.

Instead of cows and horses and chickens everywhere, I’ve seen monkeys in the forest. And I’ve only seen cows on the road once.

So far I’ve heard no fireworks, gunshots, rooster calls, Latino dance music, or dog barking.

The weather is absolutely delightful. It is now the hot season, but there is neither the extreme heat nor the humidity of Honduras. The air smells like flowers and fruit.

I am allowed to walk around by myself, outside of the compound. I can run by myself, even with my iPhone. I can walk around after dark.  I can make eye contact with people on the street.

It’s mango season, finally.

Instead of 30 four and five-year-olds running around me all day, I live with my wonderful godmother, Rose, her seven-year-old daughter, Kendwa, Rose’s friend, Jonathan, and his two teenage sons, Jack and Evan.

I have yet to determine exactly what I’ll be doing for the next few weeks here, and not having a plan is almost scarier than the prospect of teaching English to a classroom of 30 young children.

I’m in a bit of disbelief at my new surroundings. Especially at the fact that I am in Kenya, and that this is my current lifestyle.