Hello everyone. It's been about 5 months since I've returned from my journey to Kenya. There isn't a day that goes by without me thinking about what I experienced there. In the future, I want to go back for a longer time--at least 6 months. 1 month was just not enough.
I want to thank everybody that kept up with my blog and even those who randomly stumbled across my blog.
I encourage everybody to read my blog from the beginning. My experience isn't the same as everbody elses and I'm sorry if I put too many memories from my childhood in there. But I guess a blog is a blog, right?
Thanks again,
Kwa Heri
Thursday, November 26, 2009
Saturday, July 4, 2009
Still Blogging After Returning?
I don't know, I really like blogging. I figure I can just start another one, but I want to keep updating this one. Why not?
I've not given myself much time to be bored, considering that I shipped myself off to IMSA for my second Golden Apple summer institute a mere 5 days after coming back from Kenya. Living out of boxes and massive suitcases have become a specialty for me. The longest I've really ever lived somewhere this past year has been 4 months.
Summer institute has been such an amazing experience for me. Last year was fantastic, but I'm doing actual curriculum planning for the camp that we're running. It's entirely our camp, the eight of us. We're planning the lessons, we're teaching them, we're getting the materials. I can't believe that I'm getting the chance to do this. It's beyond my dreams. Earlier this school year, I went through a 3 week period where I switched my major 3 times. Just because you say you want to be a teacher doesn't mean you have everything figured out. Do I want to teach secondary math? Do bilingual? Do middle school science and math? Or do I want to teach secondary Bio? I'm still unsure of what grade level I want to teach, but deciding to join the Biology Education program has turned out to be the right choice. It turns out that I'm the only scholar within the group that is science based. Everybody is math, so all the purely science based lessons are up to me.
I don't know, when I think of teaching about DNA, and osmosis/diffusion, plant anatomy, I get so excited. This thrill goes through my veins and I this huge smile. Taking three science classes next semester and until graduation makes me a little wary considering that I haven't taken any yet, but I know God will provide me with what I need.
But besides the actual curriculum planning I'm doing, I'm having a blast with the other IMSA scholars. Whenever I look at our group, I am amazed at the diversity of our group. We have every major ethnic group represented every moment we hang out. I love it so much.
I can't believe how lucky I am to be a part this organization, this group of people striving to change a child's life, one at a time. And the best part of it is... I know that we'd do it for free. There was a scare a couple weeks ago: all of us scholars recieved a letter from ISAC saying that funding for Golden Apple had been cut to $0. We wouldn't be getting any scholarship money for the next year at all. A whole bunch of us started crying, naturally. A lot of us depend on Golden Apple money to fund for college. Not only that, the state of Illinois is cutting funding for MAP grants to 48%, which is a significant cut. And even further, didn't this mean the end of Golden Apple?
I just stood there, shaking in shock at the words in my hands. Salty tears filled my eyes and left trails down my cheeks. Elisabeth(my roommate) and I just held each other, unable to find words to describe our emotions. But at that moment, I had peace. I knew something would work out.
The most beautiful part of that scare, is that all of us voiced that we wouldn't leave Golden Apple even if we weren't going to get scholarship money. No monetary amount can put a price tag on the summer institutes, the school liasons, the connections you make, the friends you find. I think that part made me cry even more. During inductions, Mama C asked if each and every one us would teach for free. To teach in the most underpriviledged schools for the reward of seeing our students learn. I answered, without hesitation, yes. And put to the test, we all stayed true to our word.
About three days later, there was a huge meeting with state legislators, ISAC, and other such people. With our own Golden Apples speaking at the meeting, we were able to get half our funding back. I'm so thankful that God has taken care of one semester's worth. Thank God.
Becky
I've not given myself much time to be bored, considering that I shipped myself off to IMSA for my second Golden Apple summer institute a mere 5 days after coming back from Kenya. Living out of boxes and massive suitcases have become a specialty for me. The longest I've really ever lived somewhere this past year has been 4 months.
Summer institute has been such an amazing experience for me. Last year was fantastic, but I'm doing actual curriculum planning for the camp that we're running. It's entirely our camp, the eight of us. We're planning the lessons, we're teaching them, we're getting the materials. I can't believe that I'm getting the chance to do this. It's beyond my dreams. Earlier this school year, I went through a 3 week period where I switched my major 3 times. Just because you say you want to be a teacher doesn't mean you have everything figured out. Do I want to teach secondary math? Do bilingual? Do middle school science and math? Or do I want to teach secondary Bio? I'm still unsure of what grade level I want to teach, but deciding to join the Biology Education program has turned out to be the right choice. It turns out that I'm the only scholar within the group that is science based. Everybody is math, so all the purely science based lessons are up to me.
I don't know, when I think of teaching about DNA, and osmosis/diffusion, plant anatomy, I get so excited. This thrill goes through my veins and I this huge smile. Taking three science classes next semester and until graduation makes me a little wary considering that I haven't taken any yet, but I know God will provide me with what I need.
But besides the actual curriculum planning I'm doing, I'm having a blast with the other IMSA scholars. Whenever I look at our group, I am amazed at the diversity of our group. We have every major ethnic group represented every moment we hang out. I love it so much.
I can't believe how lucky I am to be a part this organization, this group of people striving to change a child's life, one at a time. And the best part of it is... I know that we'd do it for free. There was a scare a couple weeks ago: all of us scholars recieved a letter from ISAC saying that funding for Golden Apple had been cut to $0. We wouldn't be getting any scholarship money for the next year at all. A whole bunch of us started crying, naturally. A lot of us depend on Golden Apple money to fund for college. Not only that, the state of Illinois is cutting funding for MAP grants to 48%, which is a significant cut. And even further, didn't this mean the end of Golden Apple?
I just stood there, shaking in shock at the words in my hands. Salty tears filled my eyes and left trails down my cheeks. Elisabeth(my roommate) and I just held each other, unable to find words to describe our emotions. But at that moment, I had peace. I knew something would work out.
The most beautiful part of that scare, is that all of us voiced that we wouldn't leave Golden Apple even if we weren't going to get scholarship money. No monetary amount can put a price tag on the summer institutes, the school liasons, the connections you make, the friends you find. I think that part made me cry even more. During inductions, Mama C asked if each and every one us would teach for free. To teach in the most underpriviledged schools for the reward of seeing our students learn. I answered, without hesitation, yes. And put to the test, we all stayed true to our word.
About three days later, there was a huge meeting with state legislators, ISAC, and other such people. With our own Golden Apples speaking at the meeting, we were able to get half our funding back. I'm so thankful that God has taken care of one semester's worth. Thank God.
Becky
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Back in the States
So I'm back.
I just am lost on what to start with. Being back is like, well, it reminds me of the House episode I watched the night before traveling home. This girl had cancer that ranged from her heart all the way to her lungs, and also her brain. House used a crazy method to cure her: "rebooting" her nine year old body by freezing her a brief amount of time. It's like I was in hibernation. Everybody knew I was alive, but just not available. My life was put on hold.
I come back to such a well off home. We have a steady source of electricity, clean bathrooms, decent beds. I don't have to worry about getting run over by a bus, walking in sewage water, nor get hassled for money. I went on a walk yesteray and was amazed to see the well kept sidewalks, the cleanly cut grass, the stop lights and people following traffic rules. What a different world.
I have fit back into my niche at home, waking up early to make a cake for my sister's birthday, waking up my brother by whispering into his ear, finding my mother praying on her knees at 5 AM, creating a trail of mess wherever I go around. I've changed, but I haven't changed.
Thankfully, the trip back home wasn't as hard as the way there. British airways is simply an amazing airline, complete with comfortable seats, a good selection of movies, and fantastic food. I always ended up with an aisle seat, so problems with claustraphobia were not a worry. My flights where also 5 hours apart, which gave me time to walk around and check into customs without the brimming urge to shove people out of my way.
To the last moment of my trip, I made memorable experiences. Both people I sat next to on the trip were amazing to meet. The first trip from Kenya, I sat next to a girl who is going to be a senior at Ball State University. She's a speech pathology major, who had just finished a semester abroad in England and then off to Kenya just a month after coming back home. We sat for hours talking about Kenya before we conked out. The plane left at about 11:40 PM, so it was bed time for us. She had stayed with a group from her University the entire time, so she didn't get to do some of the same things I did. I loved describing to her what a matatu ride was like, discussing Kenyan politics, and my hopes for the country. She shared stories of her previous travels to Europe and Japan.
For my second flight, I actually didn't talk to the person I sat next to until the last 2 hours of my trip. Somehow, we just started talking to each other, not knowing that we had been on the same flight black from Kenya. What a small world, that we'd get on teh same flight from Kenya, wait the same 5 hours for the next flight, and get on teh exact same plane for Chicago? It turns out that she's from Somalia, but had lived in Kenya for 10 years, Uganda for 3, and Minnesota for 4. She knew Swahili, English, Ugandan, Somalian, and German. What a selection of languages! And just as I was about to get off the plane, I talked to the parents of 3 girls all under the age of 6 who had lived in portugal, Malaysia, England, and Wisconsin. The girls knew Portugese, what they speak in Malaysia, and English. I couldn't help but be jealous.
Talking to these people makes me want to travel to Korea so badly. I'm pretty serious about going to Korea after graduating and spending a year there teaching English. I might do a program in Buenos Aires, Argentina for a TESOL certificate, an international certificate to teach English. I haven't even been to Seoul before!
It was exciting to show my family what I had gotten them, and I was pleased to see that each person absolutely loved what I got them. They are all practical things, like wooden cooking spoon for my mother, a scarf and giraffe doorstop for Irene, a rock for my brother's collection, coffee for dad. Then there are the general banana peel paintings for the living room, and a big Maasai blanket for the couch.
I keep thinking about my last day in Kenya. Saying goodbye to my kiddies was so painful, especially Standard 7. All the students, even the boys, came up to hug me. Samuel gave me a ring so that I can remember Kenya. Lucky, the boy I walked to school with everyday had a hard time saying good bye. The next time I can think of going back, is three years. God willing I'll be able to go. They kept saying how lucky they were to meet me, to have them help out at their school. But actually, it was I who was lucky. They have taught me to look down and see what I have, not up and see what I don't have. I'm thankful for having shoes to walk in, sidewalks that aren't of dusty mud, to have clean water coming right from the refrigerator. I see there's more to life that what material things I want, and I understand there's just a deeper purpose to everything. I'm thankful for my family, no matter what emotions I used to feel as an angsty teen. Not that I'm not one anymore.
I don't know who has been reading or not. But if you guys ahve any idea how I can start fundraising for my school, please let me know. I don't want these kids to have to pay for primary school, espcially since they don't even have their own books and stuff. I want to help the head teacher/ the school board buy the plot of land so that even if they ask for a small charge, they can build a school kitchen, fix the floors, get better desks, and actually pay the teachers.
Thank you for all your support everyone. It means so much to me. I'm so glad to be back safe at home.
Kwaheri Kenya, Asante sana.
Becky
My trip to Kenya wasn't easy, but loved it none the less. There were days that I wish I had never thought of coming to Africa, but I can't even find the words to begin explaining how I feel. Travel is never really comfortable, but it's definitely life changeing. Now I have to come to my past reality: the Chicago suburban life. And in three days time, SI 2009 at IMSA.
I just am lost on what to start with. Being back is like, well, it reminds me of the House episode I watched the night before traveling home. This girl had cancer that ranged from her heart all the way to her lungs, and also her brain. House used a crazy method to cure her: "rebooting" her nine year old body by freezing her a brief amount of time. It's like I was in hibernation. Everybody knew I was alive, but just not available. My life was put on hold.
I come back to such a well off home. We have a steady source of electricity, clean bathrooms, decent beds. I don't have to worry about getting run over by a bus, walking in sewage water, nor get hassled for money. I went on a walk yesteray and was amazed to see the well kept sidewalks, the cleanly cut grass, the stop lights and people following traffic rules. What a different world.
I have fit back into my niche at home, waking up early to make a cake for my sister's birthday, waking up my brother by whispering into his ear, finding my mother praying on her knees at 5 AM, creating a trail of mess wherever I go around. I've changed, but I haven't changed.
Thankfully, the trip back home wasn't as hard as the way there. British airways is simply an amazing airline, complete with comfortable seats, a good selection of movies, and fantastic food. I always ended up with an aisle seat, so problems with claustraphobia were not a worry. My flights where also 5 hours apart, which gave me time to walk around and check into customs without the brimming urge to shove people out of my way.
To the last moment of my trip, I made memorable experiences. Both people I sat next to on the trip were amazing to meet. The first trip from Kenya, I sat next to a girl who is going to be a senior at Ball State University. She's a speech pathology major, who had just finished a semester abroad in England and then off to Kenya just a month after coming back home. We sat for hours talking about Kenya before we conked out. The plane left at about 11:40 PM, so it was bed time for us. She had stayed with a group from her University the entire time, so she didn't get to do some of the same things I did. I loved describing to her what a matatu ride was like, discussing Kenyan politics, and my hopes for the country. She shared stories of her previous travels to Europe and Japan.
For my second flight, I actually didn't talk to the person I sat next to until the last 2 hours of my trip. Somehow, we just started talking to each other, not knowing that we had been on the same flight black from Kenya. What a small world, that we'd get on teh same flight from Kenya, wait the same 5 hours for the next flight, and get on teh exact same plane for Chicago? It turns out that she's from Somalia, but had lived in Kenya for 10 years, Uganda for 3, and Minnesota for 4. She knew Swahili, English, Ugandan, Somalian, and German. What a selection of languages! And just as I was about to get off the plane, I talked to the parents of 3 girls all under the age of 6 who had lived in portugal, Malaysia, England, and Wisconsin. The girls knew Portugese, what they speak in Malaysia, and English. I couldn't help but be jealous.
Talking to these people makes me want to travel to Korea so badly. I'm pretty serious about going to Korea after graduating and spending a year there teaching English. I might do a program in Buenos Aires, Argentina for a TESOL certificate, an international certificate to teach English. I haven't even been to Seoul before!
It was exciting to show my family what I had gotten them, and I was pleased to see that each person absolutely loved what I got them. They are all practical things, like wooden cooking spoon for my mother, a scarf and giraffe doorstop for Irene, a rock for my brother's collection, coffee for dad. Then there are the general banana peel paintings for the living room, and a big Maasai blanket for the couch.
I keep thinking about my last day in Kenya. Saying goodbye to my kiddies was so painful, especially Standard 7. All the students, even the boys, came up to hug me. Samuel gave me a ring so that I can remember Kenya. Lucky, the boy I walked to school with everyday had a hard time saying good bye. The next time I can think of going back, is three years. God willing I'll be able to go. They kept saying how lucky they were to meet me, to have them help out at their school. But actually, it was I who was lucky. They have taught me to look down and see what I have, not up and see what I don't have. I'm thankful for having shoes to walk in, sidewalks that aren't of dusty mud, to have clean water coming right from the refrigerator. I see there's more to life that what material things I want, and I understand there's just a deeper purpose to everything. I'm thankful for my family, no matter what emotions I used to feel as an angsty teen. Not that I'm not one anymore.
I don't know who has been reading or not. But if you guys ahve any idea how I can start fundraising for my school, please let me know. I don't want these kids to have to pay for primary school, espcially since they don't even have their own books and stuff. I want to help the head teacher/ the school board buy the plot of land so that even if they ask for a small charge, they can build a school kitchen, fix the floors, get better desks, and actually pay the teachers.
Thank you for all your support everyone. It means so much to me. I'm so glad to be back safe at home.
Kwaheri Kenya, Asante sana.
Becky
My trip to Kenya wasn't easy, but loved it none the less. There were days that I wish I had never thought of coming to Africa, but I can't even find the words to begin explaining how I feel. Travel is never really comfortable, but it's definitely life changeing. Now I have to come to my past reality: the Chicago suburban life. And in three days time, SI 2009 at IMSA.
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Bumpy Matatu Rides, Meeting New People, and Marriage Proposals
Wow. I'm leaving for home tonight.
As I was packing, my days in Kenya replayed in my mind. I remember rushing to get to my second flight, losing my luggage at the airport, going to the market the first time and bargaining, all my trips, my days at New Franeli. I know I have to come back in the future. There's so much I didn't get to see due to the lack of time. I want to climb Mt. Longonot, Mt. Kenya, and Mt. Kili. I want to visit the IDP refugee camp next to Naivasha, Lake Nakuru, see some waterfalls, go to the giraffe museum, go to Eldoret to the running camp. I want to go to Uganda and white water raft, I want to go to Rwanda and see the genocide museum. My roomie, Meghan, is traveling all of East Africa after volunteering and going to the Congo, Rwanda, Uganda, and Tanzania.
I friggin can't believe I spent 33 days in AFRICA. The way people make Africa sound sometimes, is like they are still an untouched community. In reality, they're not all loin-cloth-wearing-humans-climbing-banana-trees-complete-with-cone-shaped-heads-and-stretched-ears. Many places are decently westernized. Besides the Massai, Kenyans wear jeans and tshirts, they even wear the typical GAP or Old Navy sweater. I've even seen a little kid wear at University of Wisconsin Osh-Kosh sweater, probably donated and sold off the street. But yes, I've been in AFRICA. I remember I used to be so nervous about Nairobi and all the countries I previously mentioned, but my perspective has changed. There is always chance of political unrest in Africa, especially times around elections. We have to keep in mind though, that this is normal in most of the world. I have the luxury of not even feeling the effects of war even though my country has been in a major one for a good chunk of my life. I take for granted that my best friend's parents won't be ready to kill my parents because we are from a different tribe or what not. It's all a slew of damn luxuries I didn't realize that I had. I am not afraid of traveling these places at all any more. To be honest, I felt safer in Nairobi than inner city Chicago. You hear of muggings and such, but you hardly ever hear of people getting shot or even killed. It's a whole different ball game here. I have just learned to be smart. After being here for almost 5 weeks, I haven't gotten anything stolen or hurt. Praise God.
In one sense, I feel much more prepared working with people from the inner city. The urban feel is different, but still more prepatory than living in the a corn field located in Central Illinois. Or white washed North Shore. Even if I never end up working for inner inner city Chicago, I know I can make it in the city.
In any case, my last days in Kenya have been such a blur.
Yesterday, I went to Wema Clinic to make sure I'm completely free of malaria, went to town for lunch and last minute souvenir shopping, went to the Yaya center to look at a used book store, and picked up the new volunteer staying at Sharon's flat. It was quite a busy day, but I loved getting my last look around the city that I have grown to know and become comfortable in. My favorite part was meeting the new volunteer, which has become one of my favorite things to do here. I've become really close, really fast to most of the volunteers that I have met here. There's a certain type of people that will come to a far away continent like Africa, a kind that doesn't care if you don't shower twice a day, the kind that will fight for world peace and social welfare, the kind that has brimming aspirations and goals not for oneself but for others as well. The volunteers that I have met are all so different in personality, but together in passion. I have met the greatest people on this trip, some that are luckily not too far from wher my home is. And some live so far away, that it gives an excuse to go traveling there. I've become inspired to keep travling and seeing new things. I've had recurring dreams to go to South Korea either for study abroad or teach for one year after graduation. I want to walk the great wall of China, to see Maachu Pichu in Peru, to see Southeast Asia and the middle East. I want to see everything. There's always the problem of money, but it's something that I will always be saving for from now on.
I don't know, as I boarded a matatu yesterday, I couldn't stop thinking about how much I was going to miss these dangerous, crowded, and bumpy rides around Kenya. I will actually miss squishing 25-30 people in a 13 seater van, the blaring music, keeping a keen awareness to make sure no one is pickpocketing, bargaining with the driver about paying 10 shillings instead of 15. I will never forget the matatu ride from Naivasha when a tire busted, a door fell off, and the money collector insisted on giving me his address, his promise that he'd find me in China. And I'll miss walking down the street with Meghan and hearing little kids scream "wa-wa-ru!" instead of "How are you?", or getting a marriage proposal. I'll miss getting the MZUNGU price for souvenirs and having to wittling it down to 10 percent of what they originally wanted. All these things have annoyed me at one point or another, but I know I can laugh back at it now.
Everyday has been a stir of emotions, especially getting home on Saturay and watching "Sometimes In April" with Sharon an Meghan. My horrifying and hurtful experience with the "ching chang chongs" in Kisumu melted away when I saw the genocide unfold in Rwanda. All the politicians talked about was the meaning of genocide, when they could get the white people out of there. You see UN trucks grabbing white people out of the crowd and leave all Rwandans in the dust, later to lie in piles of dead bodies swimming in pools of blood. They leave behind men to be hacked up with machetes, woman to be raped, children to be slaughtered in front of their own mothers. I burn with passion and wonder what I can do to stop this from happening. Why else have we learned about the holocaust? Wasn't it the purpose of the holocaust units in social studies, to educate us about not letting this happen again? I know those politicians know about the holocaust. Why do we act like children who don't understand the concept of object permanence yet? Just because you can't see it, doesn't mean it's not there.
I pray that the rift between tribes lessen as well. You see Kikuyus talking bad about one tribe or Kalenjins putting down Luos, generalizing the different tribes with stark stereotypes. There's almost a deep hatred between certain groups. That's why in 2007, Sharon had to hide in the bushes for 3 weeks fearing for her life. No one could leave home, everybody praying that they weren't on a Kill List. That's why some of Melissa Bailey's friends from Kenya got killed, innocent victims caught up in ridiculous tribal hatred. I pray with all my might.
In exactly 12 hours from now, I will be on a plane ride back home. I cant' wait to see everybody, but I honestly don't know how I'm going to handle it. But I guess I have to come back to my own life right?
See you sometime soon, everybody!
Becky
As I was packing, my days in Kenya replayed in my mind. I remember rushing to get to my second flight, losing my luggage at the airport, going to the market the first time and bargaining, all my trips, my days at New Franeli. I know I have to come back in the future. There's so much I didn't get to see due to the lack of time. I want to climb Mt. Longonot, Mt. Kenya, and Mt. Kili. I want to visit the IDP refugee camp next to Naivasha, Lake Nakuru, see some waterfalls, go to the giraffe museum, go to Eldoret to the running camp. I want to go to Uganda and white water raft, I want to go to Rwanda and see the genocide museum. My roomie, Meghan, is traveling all of East Africa after volunteering and going to the Congo, Rwanda, Uganda, and Tanzania.
I friggin can't believe I spent 33 days in AFRICA. The way people make Africa sound sometimes, is like they are still an untouched community. In reality, they're not all loin-cloth-wearing-humans-climbing-banana-trees-complete-with-cone-shaped-heads-and-stretched-ears. Many places are decently westernized. Besides the Massai, Kenyans wear jeans and tshirts, they even wear the typical GAP or Old Navy sweater. I've even seen a little kid wear at University of Wisconsin Osh-Kosh sweater, probably donated and sold off the street. But yes, I've been in AFRICA. I remember I used to be so nervous about Nairobi and all the countries I previously mentioned, but my perspective has changed. There is always chance of political unrest in Africa, especially times around elections. We have to keep in mind though, that this is normal in most of the world. I have the luxury of not even feeling the effects of war even though my country has been in a major one for a good chunk of my life. I take for granted that my best friend's parents won't be ready to kill my parents because we are from a different tribe or what not. It's all a slew of damn luxuries I didn't realize that I had. I am not afraid of traveling these places at all any more. To be honest, I felt safer in Nairobi than inner city Chicago. You hear of muggings and such, but you hardly ever hear of people getting shot or even killed. It's a whole different ball game here. I have just learned to be smart. After being here for almost 5 weeks, I haven't gotten anything stolen or hurt. Praise God.
In one sense, I feel much more prepared working with people from the inner city. The urban feel is different, but still more prepatory than living in the a corn field located in Central Illinois. Or white washed North Shore. Even if I never end up working for inner inner city Chicago, I know I can make it in the city.
In any case, my last days in Kenya have been such a blur.
Yesterday, I went to Wema Clinic to make sure I'm completely free of malaria, went to town for lunch and last minute souvenir shopping, went to the Yaya center to look at a used book store, and picked up the new volunteer staying at Sharon's flat. It was quite a busy day, but I loved getting my last look around the city that I have grown to know and become comfortable in. My favorite part was meeting the new volunteer, which has become one of my favorite things to do here. I've become really close, really fast to most of the volunteers that I have met here. There's a certain type of people that will come to a far away continent like Africa, a kind that doesn't care if you don't shower twice a day, the kind that will fight for world peace and social welfare, the kind that has brimming aspirations and goals not for oneself but for others as well. The volunteers that I have met are all so different in personality, but together in passion. I have met the greatest people on this trip, some that are luckily not too far from wher my home is. And some live so far away, that it gives an excuse to go traveling there. I've become inspired to keep travling and seeing new things. I've had recurring dreams to go to South Korea either for study abroad or teach for one year after graduation. I want to walk the great wall of China, to see Maachu Pichu in Peru, to see Southeast Asia and the middle East. I want to see everything. There's always the problem of money, but it's something that I will always be saving for from now on.
I don't know, as I boarded a matatu yesterday, I couldn't stop thinking about how much I was going to miss these dangerous, crowded, and bumpy rides around Kenya. I will actually miss squishing 25-30 people in a 13 seater van, the blaring music, keeping a keen awareness to make sure no one is pickpocketing, bargaining with the driver about paying 10 shillings instead of 15. I will never forget the matatu ride from Naivasha when a tire busted, a door fell off, and the money collector insisted on giving me his address, his promise that he'd find me in China. And I'll miss walking down the street with Meghan and hearing little kids scream "wa-wa-ru!" instead of "How are you?", or getting a marriage proposal. I'll miss getting the MZUNGU price for souvenirs and having to wittling it down to 10 percent of what they originally wanted. All these things have annoyed me at one point or another, but I know I can laugh back at it now.
Everyday has been a stir of emotions, especially getting home on Saturay and watching "Sometimes In April" with Sharon an Meghan. My horrifying and hurtful experience with the "ching chang chongs" in Kisumu melted away when I saw the genocide unfold in Rwanda. All the politicians talked about was the meaning of genocide, when they could get the white people out of there. You see UN trucks grabbing white people out of the crowd and leave all Rwandans in the dust, later to lie in piles of dead bodies swimming in pools of blood. They leave behind men to be hacked up with machetes, woman to be raped, children to be slaughtered in front of their own mothers. I burn with passion and wonder what I can do to stop this from happening. Why else have we learned about the holocaust? Wasn't it the purpose of the holocaust units in social studies, to educate us about not letting this happen again? I know those politicians know about the holocaust. Why do we act like children who don't understand the concept of object permanence yet? Just because you can't see it, doesn't mean it's not there.
I pray that the rift between tribes lessen as well. You see Kikuyus talking bad about one tribe or Kalenjins putting down Luos, generalizing the different tribes with stark stereotypes. There's almost a deep hatred between certain groups. That's why in 2007, Sharon had to hide in the bushes for 3 weeks fearing for her life. No one could leave home, everybody praying that they weren't on a Kill List. That's why some of Melissa Bailey's friends from Kenya got killed, innocent victims caught up in ridiculous tribal hatred. I pray with all my might.
In exactly 12 hours from now, I will be on a plane ride back home. I cant' wait to see everybody, but I honestly don't know how I'm going to handle it. But I guess I have to come back to my own life right?
See you sometime soon, everybody!
Becky
Friday, June 12, 2009
Different Side of Kenya
For the past couple days, I've been able to experience the rural lifestyle of Kenya. Again, thanks to connections with Sharon's family, I boarded a bus to Kericho, which is her home town. The ride was long, but not as long as the bus to Mombasa. After visiting the teacher's college that Patrick lectures at, I visited his home. It was really interesting to see Patrick's daughter's reaction when she saw me. It was Faith's first time seeing a mzungu, and initially, she backed away. Eventually she settled in my lap, and was ok with me. Patrick then took me to a more rural town, where I have been staying with a Pastor's family.
Pastor Kuley and his wife runs two schools, where a little more than half the students board. To help provide food and also jobs, the family also runs a small scale farm. The first day with the family I visited the classrooms, and saw how the school is run. The second day, I visited the farm.
When I was younger and described my idea of heaven, I imagined rolling mountains, and endless amounts of greenery. There would be lush trees, clean air, and clear blue skies. Well, where I have been staying is the place. Every morning I've woken up to birds singing, the sun shining bright in my face. The pollution and exhaust from vehicles that exist in Nairobi are no longer in the rural areas. The only hard part has been the squatter toilets, but I have mastered the art of using them! Honestly, this new skill has not been learned by choice, but rather I had to. I knew that I couldn't just not use the bathroom for 3-4 days, so the next morning I tiptoed to the toilet door. I opened it and stared for a few minutes. Then I decided that I had to learn how to get over my qualms and now I am ok with these.
Every morning I've been greeted by such cheerful faces, full of love and stories. I've told them about my home, and he has exchanged other stories in return. I really like it here. I've learned to make Ugali, chapatti, and how they cook kale--a vegetable that my mom and I have wondered how to get rid of the bitter taste. It has lots of calcium. Yesterday, I hoed out weeds among the nepia grass(cow feed) and even milked a cow! Not that I was good at it, but I tried!
Today I took an hour matatu ride to Kisumu and got to see Lake Victoria. I got really sick of getting hassled, and I've just begun ignoring glue-smelling boys asking for money. I think after this visit to the internet cafe, I'm going to the museum here. Along with matatus and busses, they have touk-touks, which are motorcycles transformed to funciton as cars. It's quite a sight, two wheels in back, one in the front, a rattley cage to sit in. I just might try riding in one to get to the museum.
Tomorrow, I leave for Eldoret. This is something I'm really looking forward to, because it is where all the Olympic Kenyan runners train. I don't know if I'll meet any runners or not, but just getting to do so will be amazing. And how do I get to go to Eldoret? BEcause Sharon's other sister lives there! I'm so excited.
Well I'm off now. Mercy, Pastor Sammy's daughter, and I have spent enough time on the computer. I'll only be online a couple more times before I go home. Eldoret, here I come!
Becky
Pastor Kuley and his wife runs two schools, where a little more than half the students board. To help provide food and also jobs, the family also runs a small scale farm. The first day with the family I visited the classrooms, and saw how the school is run. The second day, I visited the farm.
When I was younger and described my idea of heaven, I imagined rolling mountains, and endless amounts of greenery. There would be lush trees, clean air, and clear blue skies. Well, where I have been staying is the place. Every morning I've woken up to birds singing, the sun shining bright in my face. The pollution and exhaust from vehicles that exist in Nairobi are no longer in the rural areas. The only hard part has been the squatter toilets, but I have mastered the art of using them! Honestly, this new skill has not been learned by choice, but rather I had to. I knew that I couldn't just not use the bathroom for 3-4 days, so the next morning I tiptoed to the toilet door. I opened it and stared for a few minutes. Then I decided that I had to learn how to get over my qualms and now I am ok with these.
Every morning I've been greeted by such cheerful faces, full of love and stories. I've told them about my home, and he has exchanged other stories in return. I really like it here. I've learned to make Ugali, chapatti, and how they cook kale--a vegetable that my mom and I have wondered how to get rid of the bitter taste. It has lots of calcium. Yesterday, I hoed out weeds among the nepia grass(cow feed) and even milked a cow! Not that I was good at it, but I tried!
Today I took an hour matatu ride to Kisumu and got to see Lake Victoria. I got really sick of getting hassled, and I've just begun ignoring glue-smelling boys asking for money. I think after this visit to the internet cafe, I'm going to the museum here. Along with matatus and busses, they have touk-touks, which are motorcycles transformed to funciton as cars. It's quite a sight, two wheels in back, one in the front, a rattley cage to sit in. I just might try riding in one to get to the museum.
Tomorrow, I leave for Eldoret. This is something I'm really looking forward to, because it is where all the Olympic Kenyan runners train. I don't know if I'll meet any runners or not, but just getting to do so will be amazing. And how do I get to go to Eldoret? BEcause Sharon's other sister lives there! I'm so excited.
Well I'm off now. Mercy, Pastor Sammy's daughter, and I have spent enough time on the computer. I'll only be online a couple more times before I go home. Eldoret, here I come!
Becky
Monday, June 8, 2009
Appearances
If you took a look at one of my students, could you tell that he comes from a broken family? Can you know just by looking at him that he has had too many painful experiences for what a 13 year old should be allowed to go through? Or can you just tell by looking at that girl, that she lived without both parents for several years and raised her two siblings on her own?
I was walking to school today, something that I've come to do alone. I don't need to walk with Lucky and Steven anymore, since everybody along the way recognizes me and I won't get lost. Right before I reached school, I walked into one of the boys from Standard 7. I always felt a special connection to this kid because his name is, Beck. Yeah, really close to mine.
"Hey Beck, where are you going?"
"Hi, I'm going home."
"Why? I've just gotten to school!"
"My mom died."
How do you freaking respond to that?
At first I thought he was joking because he's the type to kid me around. But one look at his pained eyes said enough. His mom was no longer. And he still had come to school to say hi to me. Sweet kid.
Later I found out that his mom had been sick for two years. I suppose you learn to live with it, to put it past the immediacy of your day. But I never would have guessed what was going on at home. It's just him and his 2 year old sister now. Luckily, his grandma will be there to help him out. I can't imagine the pain he's going through.
The whole incident got me thinking about the how I view myself in Kenya. When you spend even a short amount of time surrounded by a certain type of people, you almost expect to see that in the mirror. I'm so used to seeing dark skin, pearly white teeth, full lips, and the particular Kenyan nose, that I jump a little at my relfection in the mirror. I expect myself to look like them.
When you walk down the street, it's not like a movie, where you're the main character and you can see your life from all angles. No, you are the camera man. Even if you look differently or not, you will never see that until you look in the mirror.
When I was in preschool, I had a really hard time one afternoon. The kids kept making fun of me for being Chinese. They pulled their eyes back so that they couldn't even see out of them. They made noises that did not amount to any sort of familiar language. And I wasn't even Chinese. I got fed up with that treatment and I yelled at them because I couldn't understand why they were being so mean. Instead of seeing our different skin color, eye shape, and hair texture, I just saw that we all had skin, eyes, noes, hair, and all other normal parts of the body.
"We all look the same! Leave me alone!"
And instead of getting better, the taunting got worse.
"You don't look like us, ching chang chong!"
And so my mother found me crying in front of the mirror later that day. It was the first of many of my mother's "Korean pride pep talks", complete with the full history of the Korean War, and how we must stand tall as Korean Americans.
I have that memory replaying in my head as I walk down the streets and hear the same familiar chopped noises meant to be "my language". I keep my head strong as seemingly grown and mature men use their fingers to pull their eyes back as I pass their shop. All they see is that I'm Asian, do they bother to know if I really come from China or Japan or Korea? Do they ever wonder more than if I'm a bag of money or a prostitute? That I am full of experiences that they will never understand? No, and it's the same in reverse. I will never know their full life story, not by just looking at them. It's just that we all think we can do that.
I wonder what I'll start thinking of myself when I plop myself back into white suburbia. It's going to quite an interesting adjustment.
Anyways, I had a fun time with Standard 8 today. We went over problems and I realized that they really need to work on their basic prealgebra skills. They have no concept of working with integers! They kept saying that negative 7 minus six was negative 1. I still have yet to understand the Kenyan academic curriculum. It still boggles me.
You all should be waking up in a few hours, Good morning!
Becky
I was walking to school today, something that I've come to do alone. I don't need to walk with Lucky and Steven anymore, since everybody along the way recognizes me and I won't get lost. Right before I reached school, I walked into one of the boys from Standard 7. I always felt a special connection to this kid because his name is, Beck. Yeah, really close to mine.
"Hey Beck, where are you going?"
"Hi, I'm going home."
"Why? I've just gotten to school!"
"My mom died."
How do you freaking respond to that?
At first I thought he was joking because he's the type to kid me around. But one look at his pained eyes said enough. His mom was no longer. And he still had come to school to say hi to me. Sweet kid.
Later I found out that his mom had been sick for two years. I suppose you learn to live with it, to put it past the immediacy of your day. But I never would have guessed what was going on at home. It's just him and his 2 year old sister now. Luckily, his grandma will be there to help him out. I can't imagine the pain he's going through.
The whole incident got me thinking about the how I view myself in Kenya. When you spend even a short amount of time surrounded by a certain type of people, you almost expect to see that in the mirror. I'm so used to seeing dark skin, pearly white teeth, full lips, and the particular Kenyan nose, that I jump a little at my relfection in the mirror. I expect myself to look like them.
When you walk down the street, it's not like a movie, where you're the main character and you can see your life from all angles. No, you are the camera man. Even if you look differently or not, you will never see that until you look in the mirror.
When I was in preschool, I had a really hard time one afternoon. The kids kept making fun of me for being Chinese. They pulled their eyes back so that they couldn't even see out of them. They made noises that did not amount to any sort of familiar language. And I wasn't even Chinese. I got fed up with that treatment and I yelled at them because I couldn't understand why they were being so mean. Instead of seeing our different skin color, eye shape, and hair texture, I just saw that we all had skin, eyes, noes, hair, and all other normal parts of the body.
"We all look the same! Leave me alone!"
And instead of getting better, the taunting got worse.
"You don't look like us, ching chang chong!"
And so my mother found me crying in front of the mirror later that day. It was the first of many of my mother's "Korean pride pep talks", complete with the full history of the Korean War, and how we must stand tall as Korean Americans.
I have that memory replaying in my head as I walk down the streets and hear the same familiar chopped noises meant to be "my language". I keep my head strong as seemingly grown and mature men use their fingers to pull their eyes back as I pass their shop. All they see is that I'm Asian, do they bother to know if I really come from China or Japan or Korea? Do they ever wonder more than if I'm a bag of money or a prostitute? That I am full of experiences that they will never understand? No, and it's the same in reverse. I will never know their full life story, not by just looking at them. It's just that we all think we can do that.
I wonder what I'll start thinking of myself when I plop myself back into white suburbia. It's going to quite an interesting adjustment.
Anyways, I had a fun time with Standard 8 today. We went over problems and I realized that they really need to work on their basic prealgebra skills. They have no concept of working with integers! They kept saying that negative 7 minus six was negative 1. I still have yet to understand the Kenyan academic curriculum. It still boggles me.
You all should be waking up in a few hours, Good morning!
Becky
Saturday, June 6, 2009
Be careful for what you ask for
So I asked my kids to write me a composition. I told them to write about 1)their names 2) their goals and dreams 3)their families. Little did I know that I would get stories about their literal dreams, different levels of English writing, and extremely small handwriting. I was going on and on about how great it is to be an English teacher (not that it isn't!) because you get personal work from you students. The only drawback is that everything is so personalized. I got a preview of my teacher life spending all Saturday afternoon grading these. Nontheless, it was really fun.
Considering that I'll be teaching official science lessons in just a couple weeks in Aurora, IL, this is kind of like a test run. I have already done plenty of things in my classrooms here that will never fly. Like coming to school in t-shirt and shorts, like not coming to school because I'm sick with an unspreadable illness, like not following through with some rules.
I've come upon my last 10 days in Kenya. The whole experience has been surreal. When I go back, it'll still be a while before I beleive I was in Africa for almost 5 weeks. Crazy! The hardest part right now is finding people to hang out with. All the people I met earlier have gone back home. They were the people who had been here for at least 3 months or so, the "Lifers" as they were called. I can get around my immediate surroundings fine, but it's still scary for me to go into town alone. Part of me just wants to hang out with Sharon and forget about meeting new people. But part of me wonders what the weekend would have been like if I had gone to Uganda. Oh well.
Yesterday Sharon and I just hung out, and I got to wake up really late this morning. For a whole semester, I lived in a dark nearly windowless basement. I slept in almost every weekend morning during that time, and never once did I feel refreshed from sleeping in. But this morning, before I woke up, I saw beams of sunlight hitting my face. It just felt so right. I am so thankful that I am living on the fourth floor right now. Well time to go now.
Becky
Considering that I'll be teaching official science lessons in just a couple weeks in Aurora, IL, this is kind of like a test run. I have already done plenty of things in my classrooms here that will never fly. Like coming to school in t-shirt and shorts, like not coming to school because I'm sick with an unspreadable illness, like not following through with some rules.
I've come upon my last 10 days in Kenya. The whole experience has been surreal. When I go back, it'll still be a while before I beleive I was in Africa for almost 5 weeks. Crazy! The hardest part right now is finding people to hang out with. All the people I met earlier have gone back home. They were the people who had been here for at least 3 months or so, the "Lifers" as they were called. I can get around my immediate surroundings fine, but it's still scary for me to go into town alone. Part of me just wants to hang out with Sharon and forget about meeting new people. But part of me wonders what the weekend would have been like if I had gone to Uganda. Oh well.
Yesterday Sharon and I just hung out, and I got to wake up really late this morning. For a whole semester, I lived in a dark nearly windowless basement. I slept in almost every weekend morning during that time, and never once did I feel refreshed from sleeping in. But this morning, before I woke up, I saw beams of sunlight hitting my face. It just felt so right. I am so thankful that I am living on the fourth floor right now. Well time to go now.
Becky
Thursday, June 4, 2009
Random Tid bits
I finally went back to school today. The volunteer organization assigned another person to New Franeli!!! Yay! Her name is Robin, or Robyn. She's from Orlando, Florida and goes to University of Central Florida. Podo, there's more of you out there--Robin wants to be a physics teacher!!! =) Crazy people.
I've been able to do some of my own mission work here.
Yesterday I talked to the laundry lady. Meghan and I (aside from being lazy) hire people do our laundry because the money goes directly to the people instead of getting filtered through organizations and stuff. We talked a great deal about her family, her past, her faith in Christ. She gave me Psalm 41. It's beautiful. This was something that I wish I could have done back in Trinidad and Tobago. I wasn't able to muster up the courage to simply make conversation, to see where they are hurting. I have no intention of judgeing or thinking I'm better, I just want them to share their burden.
I also had an idea of doing my own little "As yourself night". The one thing that makes me wonder, is that they expect me to do that here anyways. People come up to me all the time asking me to give them money, that I "owe" them something. As much as it is tiring to keep getting hassled, I want to do that this weekend.
Meghan has just left for Uganda. Now that would have been so cool to go there, but the bus ride is 13 hrs, and I'm in no condition to go traveling another weekend. I've just been sleeping all day because I'm so weak. Sharon and I might do an awareness walk this weekend though.
Ok, this is a short post. But I felt like writing something even if it's not much. Haha, it might actually be a break from my ridiculously long ones. I'll have much to say later. There's some stuff I have to figure out with my schedule for next fall. The genetics class is filled up so I think I'll take physics instead and get it over with. Boo physics! At least there was a spot open...
Becky
I've been able to do some of my own mission work here.
Yesterday I talked to the laundry lady. Meghan and I (aside from being lazy) hire people do our laundry because the money goes directly to the people instead of getting filtered through organizations and stuff. We talked a great deal about her family, her past, her faith in Christ. She gave me Psalm 41. It's beautiful. This was something that I wish I could have done back in Trinidad and Tobago. I wasn't able to muster up the courage to simply make conversation, to see where they are hurting. I have no intention of judgeing or thinking I'm better, I just want them to share their burden.
I also had an idea of doing my own little "As yourself night". The one thing that makes me wonder, is that they expect me to do that here anyways. People come up to me all the time asking me to give them money, that I "owe" them something. As much as it is tiring to keep getting hassled, I want to do that this weekend.
Meghan has just left for Uganda. Now that would have been so cool to go there, but the bus ride is 13 hrs, and I'm in no condition to go traveling another weekend. I've just been sleeping all day because I'm so weak. Sharon and I might do an awareness walk this weekend though.
Ok, this is a short post. But I felt like writing something even if it's not much. Haha, it might actually be a break from my ridiculously long ones. I'll have much to say later. There's some stuff I have to figure out with my schedule for next fall. The genetics class is filled up so I think I'll take physics instead and get it over with. Boo physics! At least there was a spot open...
Becky
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
Being sick makes you think.
I feel better today. The past couple days I've just been sleeping and resting to get better. I feel so bad that I havent' been at school, especially because from tomorrow, I only have 8/9 days left!!! Oh no!!!!!! But I'm in no shape to stand up in front of my class especially since I'm squeaking out sounds from my throat. And all the other symptoms.
I've decided to work on a short composition time with my kids. I want to get to know their dreams and goals, and MAYBE maybe work on some funding program. It's just an idea,but it's worth thinking about.
Being sick gave me a lot of time to reflect, to just think more about why I'm here. I had no choice but to lay in bed, because getting off of the top bunk and walking a ping pong table's length knocked the wind out of me. I realized that one reason why I've had such mixed feelings about my school is because of the sadness I expressed in the post below. Instead of facing reality, I found myself closing away from it. Fight or flight...... and I chose flight, the easier of the two. I found me, Becky who came here to volunteer, closing myself away because I just didn't know what I could do.
I've been trying so hard to live the experiences of my friends' travels. But I need to make this journey own. There's no right amount of time to stay, no right things to see, the right things to accomplish while I'm here. I am here for a mere month, I have seen one of the most beautiful landscapes and natural wonders, I have been volunteering at a school of need. I have a better hang of getting around Nairobi, I have wittled away prices through bargaining, I've paid for my students meals. I've even gotten medical treatment here.
There have been so many things that I've done in my life, that I've regretted doing just because of not feeling ready. But as I was kneeling on the couch, leaning to stare out the window, a smile crept up my lips because I do know I was ready for this trip full on. I am already laughing at my stories, sharing pain with my students, wondering if I'll ever come bakc again. I remember just not too long ago, I swore I'll never put myself in a developing city again. But strange enough whenever I come up to Wanyee Road, when I see the familiar corn roasting stand, the internet cafe, I feel at home. I like sitting next to the computer and not have to request the Christian radio station and not feel awkward to sing and harmonize with the radio because everybody else is doing it.
I wonder if this is how it feels to move to a foreign country. There was a movie I watched with Eli once, the Namesake. The wife is brought over from India, and her first meal is cornflakes mixed with peanuts, and some reddish spice. Her terror at the new environment, the utter reality that she was to call this strange land, her home. I can only relate on a slight level at what this woman must have experienced, along with my own parents, and thousands of thousands of millions and billions of immigrants looking to provide something more for the next generation. That's some tough people. Admirable. Thank you Amma, thank you, Appa. You mean the world to me.
The only place where I've seen weak family relationships has been home. I think it is also like that in Canada and developed Europe. But everywhere else, you grow up with family, spent time with family, get old with family. You stick up for each other, you get them out of trouble, all that. It's not shameful to go back home when married, it's just considered taking care of each other. I understand why my parents wanted me home so early, when my other friends would just go out to do whateve I pleased. It's still something I'm learning to accept, but I'm so much more proud of what my family has kept going.
Oh, and I really hope that my major change is going to work. I can't seem to register for the last two classes.... and one of them is closed. But the more I've been here, the more I'm sure I'm meant to teach Biology. I'm going to make it work.
On a lighter note, I'm much darker now. Thank you, Mr. Sun, you are looking gorgeous today!
Kwa heri!
Becky
I've decided to work on a short composition time with my kids. I want to get to know their dreams and goals, and MAYBE maybe work on some funding program. It's just an idea,but it's worth thinking about.
Being sick gave me a lot of time to reflect, to just think more about why I'm here. I had no choice but to lay in bed, because getting off of the top bunk and walking a ping pong table's length knocked the wind out of me. I realized that one reason why I've had such mixed feelings about my school is because of the sadness I expressed in the post below. Instead of facing reality, I found myself closing away from it. Fight or flight...... and I chose flight, the easier of the two. I found me, Becky who came here to volunteer, closing myself away because I just didn't know what I could do.
I've been trying so hard to live the experiences of my friends' travels. But I need to make this journey own. There's no right amount of time to stay, no right things to see, the right things to accomplish while I'm here. I am here for a mere month, I have seen one of the most beautiful landscapes and natural wonders, I have been volunteering at a school of need. I have a better hang of getting around Nairobi, I have wittled away prices through bargaining, I've paid for my students meals. I've even gotten medical treatment here.
There have been so many things that I've done in my life, that I've regretted doing just because of not feeling ready. But as I was kneeling on the couch, leaning to stare out the window, a smile crept up my lips because I do know I was ready for this trip full on. I am already laughing at my stories, sharing pain with my students, wondering if I'll ever come bakc again. I remember just not too long ago, I swore I'll never put myself in a developing city again. But strange enough whenever I come up to Wanyee Road, when I see the familiar corn roasting stand, the internet cafe, I feel at home. I like sitting next to the computer and not have to request the Christian radio station and not feel awkward to sing and harmonize with the radio because everybody else is doing it.
I wonder if this is how it feels to move to a foreign country. There was a movie I watched with Eli once, the Namesake. The wife is brought over from India, and her first meal is cornflakes mixed with peanuts, and some reddish spice. Her terror at the new environment, the utter reality that she was to call this strange land, her home. I can only relate on a slight level at what this woman must have experienced, along with my own parents, and thousands of thousands of millions and billions of immigrants looking to provide something more for the next generation. That's some tough people. Admirable. Thank you Amma, thank you, Appa. You mean the world to me.
The only place where I've seen weak family relationships has been home. I think it is also like that in Canada and developed Europe. But everywhere else, you grow up with family, spent time with family, get old with family. You stick up for each other, you get them out of trouble, all that. It's not shameful to go back home when married, it's just considered taking care of each other. I understand why my parents wanted me home so early, when my other friends would just go out to do whateve I pleased. It's still something I'm learning to accept, but I'm so much more proud of what my family has kept going.
Oh, and I really hope that my major change is going to work. I can't seem to register for the last two classes.... and one of them is closed. But the more I've been here, the more I'm sure I'm meant to teach Biology. I'm going to make it work.
On a lighter note, I'm much darker now. Thank you, Mr. Sun, you are looking gorgeous today!
Kwa heri!
Becky
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
Crazy Weekend
well this first bit was supposed to have gone up last thursday, but interest wasn't cooperating so i'm posting that and writing about the weekend.
I've consistently been with Standard 7 and 8, and had quite some good laughs today. Especially during Standard 7's science lesson, I ended up coming up much later than I thought because we ended up playing hang man. They got so into it!
What's funniest though, is when I was talking to them about sex. You know when you're like, what nine years old and laugh whenever you hear the word, sex? Well these kids are about sophomore in highschool age and it was so cute seeing their reaction. They suddenly got all shy and it hit me then that the boys and girls had been sitting on opposite sides of the room. However, I did take a serious tone, especially when i started talking about AIDS; it is prominent in Kenya. I know a lot of volunteer workers here that work at clinics, and see tragic cases every day. But hearing phrases like "deep kissing", and "do sex" made me laugh.
----------------------------------------------------
:Deep Breathe:
I walked into the internet cafe and they had gotten new computers! It's funny and kinda sad to say that the internet in Kenya has been faster than it is back home. LOL.
Over the weekend, I went to Mombasa with Meghan, and 6 other girls. We were all a good international mix: 2 from England, 4 from the US, one native Kenyan, a Candian. We met up with two other volunteers from IVHQ, from Cananda and Sweden.
While the weekend before was all about sightseeing, this weekend was about enjoying the beach. The sand is white here, and since high tide brings in the waters really far up shore, the sand is flat enough to do a comfortable cartwheel. We found a great price to rent a condo for two nights, and for about 7 dollars a person. Well, it was suppose to have been a 4 person house but we squeezed in 10 girls. I love each and everyone of these girls, but you can't make me ever join a sorority. Ever.
I got up to a point this weekend where it felt like rock bottom. I was craving all sorts of food thta I didn't even like before, just because they reminded me of home. I started dreaming of memories of home, that I'd wake up and my mom would be calling me awake before it got too late(or past 8 AM) I began imagining a separate shower tub in the bathroom instead of take rinse next to the toilet. Just so many things I take for granted in the United States. The fact that water, WATER is safe enough to drink from the tap, and that it's free at restaurants. Unless you want Hep.A or Typhoid, you can't really do that. I started freaking out because I wanted to go run so bad, but knew I couldn't because I have Neuroma(nerve issues of the feet) and it's not the best idea here.
I big part of my home sickness was that I got really sick over the weekend. I havent' felt like this since first grade, when I got the flu the one year I got vaccinated for it. I remember that day so clearly. I woke up with such a huge tummy ache and told my dad I couldn't go to school. Being a dad, and also because that meant he didn't have to take me to school, he was fine with it. But when my mom came back from work, she was furious.
"Why in the world are you watching the girl rolling around on a clock mat?!(Molly and the Big Comfy Couch)! If you can watch TV, you can go to school!"
Well although I told her I was really sick, she draped a huge winter coat over me and dragged me out of the one bedroom apartment that our family of 5 lived in. I had to listen. I got to school feeling groggy, and just plain awful. Then I had a weird taste in my mouth and before I knew it, I was puking all over the brand new alphabet and letter carpet. Sad! It was quite embarrasing because the 4th graders called me "baby" cuz I had thrown up. My dad had to pick me up and I stayed in bed the entire day.
I never missed a day of school my entire life.
Sometimes I look at my group of students and I wonder how are they so motivated. And then I wonder, why in the world was I so freaking motivated? I worked myself so darn hard, from the very beginning. I liked getting my gold starts, being a "good swimmer"--doing good deeds to others as you want done to yourself--, which progressed onto check pluses, which progressed into A's, that evolved into high ACT and AP scores. I never can understand. No, it's not because I'm "Asian". that's not the explanation.
Nonethess, I am leaving for home exactly 2 weeks from today. How fast time flies;I've already been here for 2 weeks and 5 days. I have no idea what to expect when I get back. What kind of emotions will I feel? I mean, that's a long time away, but the longest I've been out of the country without family was 10 days. Even coming back from then was a huge culture shock. It's going to be a rough readjustment.
When I see the conditions that people live in here, it makes you want to give them anything, the coat off your back, even a 5 cents worth of shilling to provide a meal for a little kid. I want to take them all in my arms, cry with them and say that it's going to be ok. But the reality is, a lot of them wont be.
You see a little toddler that comes up to your knees (or maybe your shins since I'm short). He stares up at you with huge watery eyes, smiling this huge ear to ear grin despite that fact that he's covered from head to toe with dirt, that he has cuts and scars, that he is rail thin. "Ha-wa-ryu?" "Ha-wa-ryu?" "Mzungu Mzungu Mzungu!!!!" (how are you? how are you? white person white person white person!" This same kid might become the next adult who gets involved into drug dealing, corrupt politics, alcohol, stealing. Or he can become the next Obama, the next loving teacher.
I find myself wondering how can I help at least one kid, one kid from going down the wrong path? I am but one person. I am only here for so long, and thing will go back to way things were without me. I can just hope, pray, and raise money so that the headmaster can purchase the land. That way the kids won't have to pay for their education.
Becky
I've consistently been with Standard 7 and 8, and had quite some good laughs today. Especially during Standard 7's science lesson, I ended up coming up much later than I thought because we ended up playing hang man. They got so into it!
What's funniest though, is when I was talking to them about sex. You know when you're like, what nine years old and laugh whenever you hear the word, sex? Well these kids are about sophomore in highschool age and it was so cute seeing their reaction. They suddenly got all shy and it hit me then that the boys and girls had been sitting on opposite sides of the room. However, I did take a serious tone, especially when i started talking about AIDS; it is prominent in Kenya. I know a lot of volunteer workers here that work at clinics, and see tragic cases every day. But hearing phrases like "deep kissing", and "do sex" made me laugh.
----------------------------------------------------
:Deep Breathe:
I walked into the internet cafe and they had gotten new computers! It's funny and kinda sad to say that the internet in Kenya has been faster than it is back home. LOL.
Over the weekend, I went to Mombasa with Meghan, and 6 other girls. We were all a good international mix: 2 from England, 4 from the US, one native Kenyan, a Candian. We met up with two other volunteers from IVHQ, from Cananda and Sweden.
While the weekend before was all about sightseeing, this weekend was about enjoying the beach. The sand is white here, and since high tide brings in the waters really far up shore, the sand is flat enough to do a comfortable cartwheel. We found a great price to rent a condo for two nights, and for about 7 dollars a person. Well, it was suppose to have been a 4 person house but we squeezed in 10 girls. I love each and everyone of these girls, but you can't make me ever join a sorority. Ever.
I got up to a point this weekend where it felt like rock bottom. I was craving all sorts of food thta I didn't even like before, just because they reminded me of home. I started dreaming of memories of home, that I'd wake up and my mom would be calling me awake before it got too late(or past 8 AM) I began imagining a separate shower tub in the bathroom instead of take rinse next to the toilet. Just so many things I take for granted in the United States. The fact that water, WATER is safe enough to drink from the tap, and that it's free at restaurants. Unless you want Hep.A or Typhoid, you can't really do that. I started freaking out because I wanted to go run so bad, but knew I couldn't because I have Neuroma(nerve issues of the feet) and it's not the best idea here.
I big part of my home sickness was that I got really sick over the weekend. I havent' felt like this since first grade, when I got the flu the one year I got vaccinated for it. I remember that day so clearly. I woke up with such a huge tummy ache and told my dad I couldn't go to school. Being a dad, and also because that meant he didn't have to take me to school, he was fine with it. But when my mom came back from work, she was furious.
"Why in the world are you watching the girl rolling around on a clock mat?!(Molly and the Big Comfy Couch)! If you can watch TV, you can go to school!"
Well although I told her I was really sick, she draped a huge winter coat over me and dragged me out of the one bedroom apartment that our family of 5 lived in. I had to listen. I got to school feeling groggy, and just plain awful. Then I had a weird taste in my mouth and before I knew it, I was puking all over the brand new alphabet and letter carpet. Sad! It was quite embarrasing because the 4th graders called me "baby" cuz I had thrown up. My dad had to pick me up and I stayed in bed the entire day.
I never missed a day of school my entire life.
Sometimes I look at my group of students and I wonder how are they so motivated. And then I wonder, why in the world was I so freaking motivated? I worked myself so darn hard, from the very beginning. I liked getting my gold starts, being a "good swimmer"--doing good deeds to others as you want done to yourself--, which progressed onto check pluses, which progressed into A's, that evolved into high ACT and AP scores. I never can understand. No, it's not because I'm "Asian". that's not the explanation.
Nonethess, I am leaving for home exactly 2 weeks from today. How fast time flies;I've already been here for 2 weeks and 5 days. I have no idea what to expect when I get back. What kind of emotions will I feel? I mean, that's a long time away, but the longest I've been out of the country without family was 10 days. Even coming back from then was a huge culture shock. It's going to be a rough readjustment.
When I see the conditions that people live in here, it makes you want to give them anything, the coat off your back, even a 5 cents worth of shilling to provide a meal for a little kid. I want to take them all in my arms, cry with them and say that it's going to be ok. But the reality is, a lot of them wont be.
You see a little toddler that comes up to your knees (or maybe your shins since I'm short). He stares up at you with huge watery eyes, smiling this huge ear to ear grin despite that fact that he's covered from head to toe with dirt, that he has cuts and scars, that he is rail thin. "Ha-wa-ryu?" "Ha-wa-ryu?" "Mzungu Mzungu Mzungu!!!!" (how are you? how are you? white person white person white person!" This same kid might become the next adult who gets involved into drug dealing, corrupt politics, alcohol, stealing. Or he can become the next Obama, the next loving teacher.
I find myself wondering how can I help at least one kid, one kid from going down the wrong path? I am but one person. I am only here for so long, and thing will go back to way things were without me. I can just hope, pray, and raise money so that the headmaster can purchase the land. That way the kids won't have to pay for their education.
Becky
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Gaining Experience
As I mentioned before, my debit card in Naivasha was eaten by Barclay's ATM machine. I thought that I would just call a few people here and there and call it quits. But as I thought about it, I realized that I would have to go back to Naivasha and reclaim my card.
The whole deal was really stressful because It requires a good chunk of money and time. Meghan took me to "town", where we got my cell phone unlocked and got a Kenyan phone number. Then I boarded a slanted matatu all the way to Naivasha. This matatu ride was not only literally crooked, but it was like sketchy crooked as well. The driver kept leaving the matatu vehicle every 20 or so minutes and would have lengthy conversations with the police. Who knows what was going on? And since I have problems with my left hamstring, sitting with all my weight projected at that side was painful.
I got off the matatu and was surprised that nobody came up to hassle me to buy stuff. In fact, other than the ocasional "hello, my sees-ta" and "chinese", I was left alone. The experience was completely different compared to the weekend, where we had MOBS of kenyans coming up to offer us transportation services and such. I just asked around and finally got to the same ATM machine. and guess what? The friggin bank had closed about 15 minutes before I got there!
I knocked on the door, and surprisingly, people were still inside. I begged and begged and begged to let them give my card back. They kept telling me to come back the next day--which at that point I got very upset because I didn't have enough money to stay over night, and I couldn't imagine wastinge more money to return to Nairobi and back the next morning. Not to mention that I had to miss a day of teaching.... But I was surpised to see how kind the bank workers were to some white skinned little kid. Here I was, begging for my plastic debit card back, and they could have just turned me away. Then I remembered that I had Sharon's number, and she called her sister, who works at that exact bank. By 4 PM, I had my card and I was on my way to Nairobi again.
Traveling alone is scary, although I was left alone to a greater degree. The priced offered for a water bottle wasn't even more expensive than what I can get at the shop near Sharon's home. The real scary part was after I boarded the bus 4W to get back home. I was on this huge bus, the ONLY light skinned passenger. It was uncomfortable to have waves of eyes looking at me. There was this grandma who kept looking at me, just straight at me, and muttering to her daughter in Kiswahili. =( I didnt' want to get off past my stop, so I got off when I thought I saw Waynee Road.
I did get off at Waynee Road, but it was actually close to New Franeli! I couldn't believe that I was walking alone, in the dark, at 8 PM, in a slum area. In order to hide my appearnace, I took my black and green jacket, put the hood over my head, and pulled the sleeves over my hands. In hte dark, I must have looked Kenyan enough, because little kids walking past me weren't shouting "How are you?" I got completely lost, and compltely terrified. My shirt was sweated through, and I'm sure my hair looked like I had just showered. Itwas a cold night, but nervousness consumed my heart. I just kept repeating bible verses over and over again. I used my phone, and Meghan eventually found me, about half hour away from home. I had been walking in the complete wrong direction! I have never been so happy to get back home, safe and sound. Thank God!
And today, I haven't been feeling good. I miss my mom's cooking, and I could kill for her spinache-miso soup with tofu, and brown rice. Or a huge salad or something. Just something I'm used to. An apple would be nice. All I've been eating are bananas. But I came home early today because I started getting really really sick.
But while I was there, I had really good time with STandard 7. They gave me an honorary Kenyan name, Karembo, which means beautiful in Swahili. Others were Kangata-person who travels-- and Moderna, which I forgot. But now I'm back at home, well at the internet cafe, and i'm going to spend the rest of teh night finishing up season 1 of Heroes. It's totally not my usual type of show, but I love it! It actually has a Gilmore Girls actor, Milo something, who played Jess Mariano. I'm hooked!
I'm actually half way through with my trip.... time flies!
Becky
The whole deal was really stressful because It requires a good chunk of money and time. Meghan took me to "town", where we got my cell phone unlocked and got a Kenyan phone number. Then I boarded a slanted matatu all the way to Naivasha. This matatu ride was not only literally crooked, but it was like sketchy crooked as well. The driver kept leaving the matatu vehicle every 20 or so minutes and would have lengthy conversations with the police. Who knows what was going on? And since I have problems with my left hamstring, sitting with all my weight projected at that side was painful.
I got off the matatu and was surprised that nobody came up to hassle me to buy stuff. In fact, other than the ocasional "hello, my sees-ta" and "chinese", I was left alone. The experience was completely different compared to the weekend, where we had MOBS of kenyans coming up to offer us transportation services and such. I just asked around and finally got to the same ATM machine. and guess what? The friggin bank had closed about 15 minutes before I got there!
I knocked on the door, and surprisingly, people were still inside. I begged and begged and begged to let them give my card back. They kept telling me to come back the next day--which at that point I got very upset because I didn't have enough money to stay over night, and I couldn't imagine wastinge more money to return to Nairobi and back the next morning. Not to mention that I had to miss a day of teaching.... But I was surpised to see how kind the bank workers were to some white skinned little kid. Here I was, begging for my plastic debit card back, and they could have just turned me away. Then I remembered that I had Sharon's number, and she called her sister, who works at that exact bank. By 4 PM, I had my card and I was on my way to Nairobi again.
Traveling alone is scary, although I was left alone to a greater degree. The priced offered for a water bottle wasn't even more expensive than what I can get at the shop near Sharon's home. The real scary part was after I boarded the bus 4W to get back home. I was on this huge bus, the ONLY light skinned passenger. It was uncomfortable to have waves of eyes looking at me. There was this grandma who kept looking at me, just straight at me, and muttering to her daughter in Kiswahili. =( I didnt' want to get off past my stop, so I got off when I thought I saw Waynee Road.
I did get off at Waynee Road, but it was actually close to New Franeli! I couldn't believe that I was walking alone, in the dark, at 8 PM, in a slum area. In order to hide my appearnace, I took my black and green jacket, put the hood over my head, and pulled the sleeves over my hands. In hte dark, I must have looked Kenyan enough, because little kids walking past me weren't shouting "How are you?" I got completely lost, and compltely terrified. My shirt was sweated through, and I'm sure my hair looked like I had just showered. Itwas a cold night, but nervousness consumed my heart. I just kept repeating bible verses over and over again. I used my phone, and Meghan eventually found me, about half hour away from home. I had been walking in the complete wrong direction! I have never been so happy to get back home, safe and sound. Thank God!
And today, I haven't been feeling good. I miss my mom's cooking, and I could kill for her spinache-miso soup with tofu, and brown rice. Or a huge salad or something. Just something I'm used to. An apple would be nice. All I've been eating are bananas. But I came home early today because I started getting really really sick.
But while I was there, I had really good time with STandard 7. They gave me an honorary Kenyan name, Karembo, which means beautiful in Swahili. Others were Kangata-person who travels-- and Moderna, which I forgot. But now I'm back at home, well at the internet cafe, and i'm going to spend the rest of teh night finishing up season 1 of Heroes. It's totally not my usual type of show, but I love it! It actually has a Gilmore Girls actor, Milo something, who played Jess Mariano. I'm hooked!
I'm actually half way through with my trip.... time flies!
Becky
Sunday, May 24, 2009
Naivasha
Hello everyone.
I've just returned to Nairobi from Naivasha. It's been one hectic trip. As I'd wished, when Meghan returned from Uganda, I immediately started to feel better, and not so alone. She invited me to visit her orphanage/school, and also to the rest of her week end trips. Ultimately, I have decided not to go on the safari tour. I will go on other weekend trips, that won't cost me 110 US dollars a day.
This weekend, I went to Naivasha, which is just about and hour and a half away from Nairobi. We stayed at a camp for really cheap, and went to Hell's Gate. In Hell's Gate National Park, we went down into the gorge, looking for hot springs and to take in the whole thing.
The entire time, I wish that my father could see this place. I remember the first time my family went on vacation. I was 10 years old, complete with my first airplane ride to Niagara Falls. From then on, all our family trips have been about seeing the wonders of nature, to see what we midwest civilians don't get to see.
I traveled in a group of 5, which is ironic because I have always done that with my family. We rode a matatu to Hell's Gate, then rented bikes to ride around. The bikes were very old and rickety. I really missed my bike back from home. I guess it's not the bikes that made the trip hard, but the fact that the roads were of gravel. Well, the gravel bits were actually mini stones the size of of a computer mouse. And when the roads were down hill, I always thought back to the time when I was going down hill on my bike, flew off, and landed on my face.
Nonetheless, I got to see zebras, warhogs, sheep/goats, and other animals during the bike ride. We then got to the center of the park and decided to go on the 3 hr walk. What meant to be a 3 hr walk turned about to be more like 6-7 hours. All of us were extremely tired from the whole thing at the end, and fell asleep by 10 at the latest.
I'm so glad I got to come here, because I got to travel with such a good group of people. Each one of us brings unique experiences and such to the trip atmosphere. I'm thankful that all of the people I traveled with have been here for at least 3-4 weeks longer than I have. Some have been here for 4 months.
Despite the wonderful trip, I got very tired of people trying to people rip us off. Charging double the price just because we are Mzungo's, crowding around us as soon as we arrive to buy yogurt, strawberries, watches, blah blah blah. The entire trip we were hassled and annoyed. What really ticked us off was the ride into Naivasha town this morning. The guys running the matatus kept trying to give us his number or asking for our number. Then he tried taking pictures of us. :sigh: Then we decided to go to Lake Nkuru to see flamingoes and rhinos. But what happened was the ATM machine ate my debit card. This is not a way that I thought I'd lose my debit card! I don't know how I'm going to get any more for the rest of this trip, if I need it.
Nontheless, i'ts been a good weekend, much more exciting than the last one. After this, I'm going to the Maasai Market with Leigh and Christian to get some souvenirs. I'm glad I'm getting to go, and that I got to meet people before they go back home.
Leigh, Becca, and Christian are all leaving next weekend. It's great timing that I got to travel with them. And of course, it's all the more better because Becca lives really close to me. It's definitely a small world.
Becky
I've just returned to Nairobi from Naivasha. It's been one hectic trip. As I'd wished, when Meghan returned from Uganda, I immediately started to feel better, and not so alone. She invited me to visit her orphanage/school, and also to the rest of her week end trips. Ultimately, I have decided not to go on the safari tour. I will go on other weekend trips, that won't cost me 110 US dollars a day.
This weekend, I went to Naivasha, which is just about and hour and a half away from Nairobi. We stayed at a camp for really cheap, and went to Hell's Gate. In Hell's Gate National Park, we went down into the gorge, looking for hot springs and to take in the whole thing.
The entire time, I wish that my father could see this place. I remember the first time my family went on vacation. I was 10 years old, complete with my first airplane ride to Niagara Falls. From then on, all our family trips have been about seeing the wonders of nature, to see what we midwest civilians don't get to see.
I traveled in a group of 5, which is ironic because I have always done that with my family. We rode a matatu to Hell's Gate, then rented bikes to ride around. The bikes were very old and rickety. I really missed my bike back from home. I guess it's not the bikes that made the trip hard, but the fact that the roads were of gravel. Well, the gravel bits were actually mini stones the size of of a computer mouse. And when the roads were down hill, I always thought back to the time when I was going down hill on my bike, flew off, and landed on my face.
Nonetheless, I got to see zebras, warhogs, sheep/goats, and other animals during the bike ride. We then got to the center of the park and decided to go on the 3 hr walk. What meant to be a 3 hr walk turned about to be more like 6-7 hours. All of us were extremely tired from the whole thing at the end, and fell asleep by 10 at the latest.
I'm so glad I got to come here, because I got to travel with such a good group of people. Each one of us brings unique experiences and such to the trip atmosphere. I'm thankful that all of the people I traveled with have been here for at least 3-4 weeks longer than I have. Some have been here for 4 months.
Despite the wonderful trip, I got very tired of people trying to people rip us off. Charging double the price just because we are Mzungo's, crowding around us as soon as we arrive to buy yogurt, strawberries, watches, blah blah blah. The entire trip we were hassled and annoyed. What really ticked us off was the ride into Naivasha town this morning. The guys running the matatus kept trying to give us his number or asking for our number. Then he tried taking pictures of us. :sigh: Then we decided to go to Lake Nkuru to see flamingoes and rhinos. But what happened was the ATM machine ate my debit card. This is not a way that I thought I'd lose my debit card! I don't know how I'm going to get any more for the rest of this trip, if I need it.
Nontheless, i'ts been a good weekend, much more exciting than the last one. After this, I'm going to the Maasai Market with Leigh and Christian to get some souvenirs. I'm glad I'm getting to go, and that I got to meet people before they go back home.
Leigh, Becca, and Christian are all leaving next weekend. It's great timing that I got to travel with them. And of course, it's all the more better because Becca lives really close to me. It's definitely a small world.
Becky
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
First day at New Franeli
At 8:30 AM, a student from New Franeli, Lucky, came and picked me up from Sharon's place. It was a 20-25 min walk to the school. We walked along the dirt roads, dodging chickens, dogs, bikes, and cars. City Hoppas, or city busses, blew exhaust into our faces, a mist of gray gas showering us along with muddy sprinkles. Most of the walk was quiet, me asking Lucky what he wants to be when he grows up, where his family is. Before long, we arrived at an opening at a fence. We are here, Lucky said, and we walked into the opening.
What school? There was no building, or the so called building was a collection of tin sheets held together by nails and a wooden skeleton. I was wondering how children played in such a muddy yard, when I saw a 3 year old dump himself on the ground in an attempt at a cartwheel. He didn't care, he was carefree. A strong stench of feces and more exhaust wafted up my nose, as I was taken into the "office".
In America, principal offices are sacred places. You cannot talk to the principal unless by appointment. They are embellished with a fancy desk with a name place to be distinguishable from the rest of the school staff. This office is no different than the other tin sheet buildings. The office space is no bigger than the desk and chair it had in it, and the only division between the principal and the secretary is two wooden sticks. I was told that this space is just as mine as it is the staffs. Wow.
I was then introduced to all the students in the school. I walked up to the doorway and peeped in. Right away, the students stood up out of respect. There was no light except for the sunlight streaming through the small window. The erasers were made of the same material that fills the foam pit at the Wilmette Park District gymnastics center. It was like those cartoon episodes where the character is in the dark, and the only thing you can see are a pair of eyes. Because the skins of my students were so dark, I just saw a bunch of eyes. As my eyes adjusted, I saw that there were one too many studetns squished at each desk. Their cubbies were nails crudely hammered into the sides of the wooden skeleton. Their backpacks plastic bags instead of the new Barney backpack I had to beg my parents for as a child.
And yet, these kids wanted to learn. They are hungry, hungry for knowledge, to learn as much as they can. In inner city Chicago, there is a big problem with class room morale, and a high drop out rate. Here, I had no problem with that. They were so respectful, participating, despite being shy. I'm trying to piece together how and why these students are so eager to learn. What makes their situation so that they want to be here, not somewhere else?
The principal took me out to the yard and showed me the surroundings of the school. To the right, a slum. To the left, a slum. In front, a slum. These kids had not been going to school, and the principal had the started the school to have a place for the kids to go. He does not get paid to do this. There are only 7 teachers for over 200 students. I want my Standard 8 students to pass the national exam.
I mean, these students don't even have a proper school building. They don't have their own books, they don't hvae lab materials, calculators, or even pencil sharpeners. What makes them so different? They live in possibly poorer situations than in America.
I have more to ponder, but the internet cafe person is locking up, and it's getting dark. They don't call Nairobi, Nairobbery for no reason.
Thank you for all yoru prayers and support. I wish I can phone my family and friends but it is not possible now.
Becky
edit
It's slowly getting easier to teach without the materials I'm used to having. From now on, I'm going to have these permanent classes: Standard 8 Math, Standard 7 Science, and Standard 5 English. The kids are starting to know me, and we even tried playing some games together.
For you IMSA people, I tried teaching them bibbity bibbity bop. It worked wonders with our reflection group and for E2K camps, but these kids just didn't get it! They are so quiet, all the kids barely tried to keep from going inside the circle! And when I tried to advance the game to icnlude "jello", "charlie's angels" and "samurai", they all kept doing the same motion. We just playd the Kenyan version of "duck duck goose" for almost an hour.
Again, these kids don't have a playground. But they have so much fun. You can see it in their faces. I remember back to my childhood, when my sister and I would play with a simple blanket on the floor or have that blanket draped over chairs and pretend it was a house because my parents couldn't afford to buy us toys.
My favorite part about being with the kids is that they always aske me to sing. My first day, they sang for me after I sang them the national athem, which i had to make up words b/c i hadn't sung it since 8th grade. The kids started singing Jesus Loves Me, and they were surprised to see me joining in. It brought me back to VBS all over again. We went through "Making Melodies", "Deep deep", "who's the king of the mountain" just everything! When I looked out the door, there was a crowd of little children from the baby class gathered at the entrance at Standard 7 belting out. By the time i was in 5th or 6th grade, I was embarrassed to sing those songs. These kids thought they were great even though they will go on to highschool soon. The beauty of simplicity. I have not come formally on a mission trip here, but seeing that Kenya is mostly Christian, I have been talking about the bible with them. They are curious to know what I personally believe in.
Actually, this whole experience has taught me that I can have control over a class of highschoolers in the future. Although I am teaching standard 7 and 8, most of the kids are the age of sophomores and juniors in high school. I connect with them well, and they make me laugh. It was so funny, they all wanted me to do the splits. And after I did, this kid claimed he could do one also. Something caught my attention outside, anad when I turned my head around, the kid had propped his shoe at his knee and bent his leg so he had done the "splits". We all laughed for quite a long time. I'm more confident with working in highschool now. Yay!
Meghan ( found out that's the spelling) came back from Uganda, finally. She arrived at 5 AM and was sleepnig when I left for school. I hope it won't be as lonely here as it has kinda been this past weekend.
Again, it's getting dark and I want to get bananas before I go back home. I miss everybody back home.
Becky
What school? There was no building, or the so called building was a collection of tin sheets held together by nails and a wooden skeleton. I was wondering how children played in such a muddy yard, when I saw a 3 year old dump himself on the ground in an attempt at a cartwheel. He didn't care, he was carefree. A strong stench of feces and more exhaust wafted up my nose, as I was taken into the "office".
In America, principal offices are sacred places. You cannot talk to the principal unless by appointment. They are embellished with a fancy desk with a name place to be distinguishable from the rest of the school staff. This office is no different than the other tin sheet buildings. The office space is no bigger than the desk and chair it had in it, and the only division between the principal and the secretary is two wooden sticks. I was told that this space is just as mine as it is the staffs. Wow.
I was then introduced to all the students in the school. I walked up to the doorway and peeped in. Right away, the students stood up out of respect. There was no light except for the sunlight streaming through the small window. The erasers were made of the same material that fills the foam pit at the Wilmette Park District gymnastics center. It was like those cartoon episodes where the character is in the dark, and the only thing you can see are a pair of eyes. Because the skins of my students were so dark, I just saw a bunch of eyes. As my eyes adjusted, I saw that there were one too many studetns squished at each desk. Their cubbies were nails crudely hammered into the sides of the wooden skeleton. Their backpacks plastic bags instead of the new Barney backpack I had to beg my parents for as a child.
And yet, these kids wanted to learn. They are hungry, hungry for knowledge, to learn as much as they can. In inner city Chicago, there is a big problem with class room morale, and a high drop out rate. Here, I had no problem with that. They were so respectful, participating, despite being shy. I'm trying to piece together how and why these students are so eager to learn. What makes their situation so that they want to be here, not somewhere else?
The principal took me out to the yard and showed me the surroundings of the school. To the right, a slum. To the left, a slum. In front, a slum. These kids had not been going to school, and the principal had the started the school to have a place for the kids to go. He does not get paid to do this. There are only 7 teachers for over 200 students. I want my Standard 8 students to pass the national exam.
I mean, these students don't even have a proper school building. They don't have their own books, they don't hvae lab materials, calculators, or even pencil sharpeners. What makes them so different? They live in possibly poorer situations than in America.
I have more to ponder, but the internet cafe person is locking up, and it's getting dark. They don't call Nairobi, Nairobbery for no reason.
Thank you for all yoru prayers and support. I wish I can phone my family and friends but it is not possible now.
Becky
edit
It's slowly getting easier to teach without the materials I'm used to having. From now on, I'm going to have these permanent classes: Standard 8 Math, Standard 7 Science, and Standard 5 English. The kids are starting to know me, and we even tried playing some games together.
For you IMSA people, I tried teaching them bibbity bibbity bop. It worked wonders with our reflection group and for E2K camps, but these kids just didn't get it! They are so quiet, all the kids barely tried to keep from going inside the circle! And when I tried to advance the game to icnlude "jello", "charlie's angels" and "samurai", they all kept doing the same motion. We just playd the Kenyan version of "duck duck goose" for almost an hour.
Again, these kids don't have a playground. But they have so much fun. You can see it in their faces. I remember back to my childhood, when my sister and I would play with a simple blanket on the floor or have that blanket draped over chairs and pretend it was a house because my parents couldn't afford to buy us toys.
My favorite part about being with the kids is that they always aske me to sing. My first day, they sang for me after I sang them the national athem, which i had to make up words b/c i hadn't sung it since 8th grade. The kids started singing Jesus Loves Me, and they were surprised to see me joining in. It brought me back to VBS all over again. We went through "Making Melodies", "Deep deep", "who's the king of the mountain" just everything! When I looked out the door, there was a crowd of little children from the baby class gathered at the entrance at Standard 7 belting out. By the time i was in 5th or 6th grade, I was embarrassed to sing those songs. These kids thought they were great even though they will go on to highschool soon. The beauty of simplicity. I have not come formally on a mission trip here, but seeing that Kenya is mostly Christian, I have been talking about the bible with them. They are curious to know what I personally believe in.
Actually, this whole experience has taught me that I can have control over a class of highschoolers in the future. Although I am teaching standard 7 and 8, most of the kids are the age of sophomores and juniors in high school. I connect with them well, and they make me laugh. It was so funny, they all wanted me to do the splits. And after I did, this kid claimed he could do one also. Something caught my attention outside, anad when I turned my head around, the kid had propped his shoe at his knee and bent his leg so he had done the "splits". We all laughed for quite a long time. I'm more confident with working in highschool now. Yay!
Meghan ( found out that's the spelling) came back from Uganda, finally. She arrived at 5 AM and was sleepnig when I left for school. I hope it won't be as lonely here as it has kinda been this past weekend.
Again, it's getting dark and I want to get bananas before I go back home. I miss everybody back home.
Becky
Sunday, May 17, 2009
Connections and Ties with Obama
I feel connected with the new president.
From the first day I was here, I discovered an Obama craze. Other volunteers came back one morning to show off "Obama gum". We see posters of him everywhere, his face on city busses, even entire 20 min news segments dedicated to him. Yesterday, Sharon's niece, Doreen, and I walked to Nakumat, which is a large store similar to Walmart. There is no bargaining, just straight out prices. There was a book store that had prices actually comparable to Borders. In other words, ridiculously expensive. I saw Obama's first book, and embarrassingly I admit that I do not remember the title. Well Doreen knew that it was back at home. I picked up the book last night, and have just finished it.
I've had a lot of doubts of our new president, and I'm not going to start a big political discussion here, but now I understand why he is such a craze here. He is an Obama, from the Luo clan. His family has considerable ties with Kenya.
As I read through his life, his childhood in Indonesia, his college years, working as an organizer in the South Side of Chicago, his journey back to Kenya, I had a huge emotional stirring. This man seeked to find out and iron all the kinks in his identity. What is he? White? Black? What? I find the same questions rise up in me, as I find myself amongst a sea of dark skinned people.
When I got here, it startled to me to see such a resemblace with Trinidad and Tobago. But the more and more I have experienced Nairobi, I am reminded more and more of--unexpectedly--Korea. Why Korea? The market I visited yesterday. The stories of Sharon's childhood walking 24 miles a day to go to school. The sights of people selling slippers and underwear out in the middle of the street--items that I cringed to see in Chicago out of embarrassment, but now is such a normal observance here. Ugali, a boiled corn flour mixture, which reminds me of dduk, a Korean dessert. It has the same consistency, it fulfills a similar role in Kenyan peoples' tradition as much as rice balls right after the Korean War. Just as my parents survived off of rice balls and kimchi, the Kenyans have their equivalent of Ugali balls and collard greens. I'm eating the same biscuits and cracker like snacks that I will find in Korean marts in the US.
The more I see these resemblences, the more I feel like I need to give Korea another chance. The only time I've been to Korea was before high school, for two weeks. I've even repressed the exact year, and most memories because the whole experience is not a positive one. Koreans are... racist, even racist to Koreans that are not native to the homeland. I felt hurt, misplaced among family members that carry the same fantasies and myths of America as much as those who don't have any family abroad.
Yes, I know that Korea has changed, for my father could not pick out any of the same things as when he was a child. Although I have resolved to construct my identity has a Christian, I do know that it is important to know and meet my family back in Korea....
--------------------------------
My experience here is turning out not to be what I expected, to some level. It is truly a blessing to be here; although, I did not know that I would be placed in Nairobi. In other words, I do not know what it is like to live out in the country, before the city started to bloom. Yet, it is still Kenya.
There is a start desparity between the rich and the poor, underfunded schools, people starving to get by. The roads aren't paved, and as a result, all my shoes have a rich mahagony-orange layer that replaces the bottoms of my shoes. a lot of what i see, if i am not careful, will instill in me feelings of when I think about inner city Chicago. But what you don't see right away is that these people still have hope. Everybody I have met so far have some understanding that poverty is an invented concept. Yes there has been poverty even when the Maasai were fully respected, before the "white man" came and colonized Kenya. But that was the life they knew. They have not given up, and I have met countless numbers of people that have worked out of the cycle of poverty, something that has engrained itself in the minds of Americans.
What bothers me is that I keep trying to call Kenyans "African Americans". Shoot, they've never even been to the states before. When I see this dark colored group in front of me, I think of the African American friends I had in kindergarten, those living the stereotypical life from the projects. But no, these people are Kenyans. They are different. These people are mostly just as naiive about America, assuming that every single person is well off. As soon has a ntaive spots a Mzundo, prices are hiked up and favors are expected. I mean, why not have these stereotypes? It is human nature. But sometimes I want them to know that America is not as cracked as it seems to be.
Well tomorrow is my first day with the children. I want to give my all to them. I don't think I'll devour books as fast as I did this weekend. I finished that book so fast, because I devoted all my time to it. No, if I can , I want to play with the children from the school and the children I met in the apartment next to me. Rita, age 8; her sister age 2; her friend age 5. Sadly I don't remember the other two childrens' names. They are so beautiful, so content stuck playing hide and go seek in the gated parking lot.
The beautiful thing about this city is that I feel hope. I feel this sense that the people have some source of inspiration, that they won't be like they are forever. I can only pray that I might be able to play some role in furthering their dreams.
Until then, rest well America.
Becky
From the first day I was here, I discovered an Obama craze. Other volunteers came back one morning to show off "Obama gum". We see posters of him everywhere, his face on city busses, even entire 20 min news segments dedicated to him. Yesterday, Sharon's niece, Doreen, and I walked to Nakumat, which is a large store similar to Walmart. There is no bargaining, just straight out prices. There was a book store that had prices actually comparable to Borders. In other words, ridiculously expensive. I saw Obama's first book, and embarrassingly I admit that I do not remember the title. Well Doreen knew that it was back at home. I picked up the book last night, and have just finished it.
I've had a lot of doubts of our new president, and I'm not going to start a big political discussion here, but now I understand why he is such a craze here. He is an Obama, from the Luo clan. His family has considerable ties with Kenya.
As I read through his life, his childhood in Indonesia, his college years, working as an organizer in the South Side of Chicago, his journey back to Kenya, I had a huge emotional stirring. This man seeked to find out and iron all the kinks in his identity. What is he? White? Black? What? I find the same questions rise up in me, as I find myself amongst a sea of dark skinned people.
When I got here, it startled to me to see such a resemblace with Trinidad and Tobago. But the more and more I have experienced Nairobi, I am reminded more and more of--unexpectedly--Korea. Why Korea? The market I visited yesterday. The stories of Sharon's childhood walking 24 miles a day to go to school. The sights of people selling slippers and underwear out in the middle of the street--items that I cringed to see in Chicago out of embarrassment, but now is such a normal observance here. Ugali, a boiled corn flour mixture, which reminds me of dduk, a Korean dessert. It has the same consistency, it fulfills a similar role in Kenyan peoples' tradition as much as rice balls right after the Korean War. Just as my parents survived off of rice balls and kimchi, the Kenyans have their equivalent of Ugali balls and collard greens. I'm eating the same biscuits and cracker like snacks that I will find in Korean marts in the US.
The more I see these resemblences, the more I feel like I need to give Korea another chance. The only time I've been to Korea was before high school, for two weeks. I've even repressed the exact year, and most memories because the whole experience is not a positive one. Koreans are... racist, even racist to Koreans that are not native to the homeland. I felt hurt, misplaced among family members that carry the same fantasies and myths of America as much as those who don't have any family abroad.
Yes, I know that Korea has changed, for my father could not pick out any of the same things as when he was a child. Although I have resolved to construct my identity has a Christian, I do know that it is important to know and meet my family back in Korea....
--------------------------------
My experience here is turning out not to be what I expected, to some level. It is truly a blessing to be here; although, I did not know that I would be placed in Nairobi. In other words, I do not know what it is like to live out in the country, before the city started to bloom. Yet, it is still Kenya.
There is a start desparity between the rich and the poor, underfunded schools, people starving to get by. The roads aren't paved, and as a result, all my shoes have a rich mahagony-orange layer that replaces the bottoms of my shoes. a lot of what i see, if i am not careful, will instill in me feelings of when I think about inner city Chicago. But what you don't see right away is that these people still have hope. Everybody I have met so far have some understanding that poverty is an invented concept. Yes there has been poverty even when the Maasai were fully respected, before the "white man" came and colonized Kenya. But that was the life they knew. They have not given up, and I have met countless numbers of people that have worked out of the cycle of poverty, something that has engrained itself in the minds of Americans.
What bothers me is that I keep trying to call Kenyans "African Americans". Shoot, they've never even been to the states before. When I see this dark colored group in front of me, I think of the African American friends I had in kindergarten, those living the stereotypical life from the projects. But no, these people are Kenyans. They are different. These people are mostly just as naiive about America, assuming that every single person is well off. As soon has a ntaive spots a Mzundo, prices are hiked up and favors are expected. I mean, why not have these stereotypes? It is human nature. But sometimes I want them to know that America is not as cracked as it seems to be.
Well tomorrow is my first day with the children. I want to give my all to them. I don't think I'll devour books as fast as I did this weekend. I finished that book so fast, because I devoted all my time to it. No, if I can , I want to play with the children from the school and the children I met in the apartment next to me. Rita, age 8; her sister age 2; her friend age 5. Sadly I don't remember the other two childrens' names. They are so beautiful, so content stuck playing hide and go seek in the gated parking lot.
The beautiful thing about this city is that I feel hope. I feel this sense that the people have some source of inspiration, that they won't be like they are forever. I can only pray that I might be able to play some role in furthering their dreams.
Until then, rest well America.
Becky
Friday, May 15, 2009
Learning Flexibility
What a day! Right now I'm semi settled into my host family's home. My luggage will be picked up tomorrow at 10 AM, so it'll be quite a long time since I've changed clothes... although everybody understands.
My "mom" is named Sharon. She works as some sort of consultant, from her home. I'm rooming with a girl named Megan, who is from Toronto, Canada. She's been in Africa from February, and is staying for another 6 weeks. She was actually supposed to leave today, but decided that she couldn't go yet.
I wonder if I can stay abroad for that long, in a place so far from home. I understand maybe studying abroad in Europe, but Africa is so different. Europe is more similar to America, if you know what I mean. But I know for sure that I can stay for a month here better than a couple years ago. 10 days in Trinidad and Tobago was very hard for me. But I'm much more comfortable now, less spoiled in a way. I'm OK with the bathrooms, the different food. I'm so glad I went to T.and.T even though it was a hard trip for me.
So I signed up for the orphanage program, but they had me down for teaching. I was confused at first, because they hadn't honored my request for orphanage work. But when I talked to Megan, I found out the school I'm helping out at, New Fedeli, is severely understaffed. My heart reached out for those children, and I've decided to stay. I'll be able to teach math and science, basically anything I want. It'll be a great experience, and it'll help me gather stories for my future job.
The ironic part about this trip is that I've met someone from my home area here. She actually went to Stevenson Higschool. She's also Korean, and her name is Rebecca. What a small world! I didn't expect to meet anyone from home, much less some one from Stevenson, and even much less, someone Korean. It's cool, but ironic.
I pray for Megan, because she's got a mild strain of Malaria. I just found out that the weekly pills I've gotten for myself are not as good, but I hope and pray for my own health. I'm so thankful that I've gotten here safely, and that at least my luggage is found and on its way.
Over the weekend, I'm going to get my "mom" more and get to know my way around. Hopefully it won't be too muddy on the roads, although I don't mind.
I also picked up some more swahili
sawa means OK
asanti means Thank you
Tonight will be my first experience sleeping in a mosquito net. I don't want to get Malaria. Take care everyone.
Becky
My "mom" is named Sharon. She works as some sort of consultant, from her home. I'm rooming with a girl named Megan, who is from Toronto, Canada. She's been in Africa from February, and is staying for another 6 weeks. She was actually supposed to leave today, but decided that she couldn't go yet.
I wonder if I can stay abroad for that long, in a place so far from home. I understand maybe studying abroad in Europe, but Africa is so different. Europe is more similar to America, if you know what I mean. But I know for sure that I can stay for a month here better than a couple years ago. 10 days in Trinidad and Tobago was very hard for me. But I'm much more comfortable now, less spoiled in a way. I'm OK with the bathrooms, the different food. I'm so glad I went to T.and.T even though it was a hard trip for me.
So I signed up for the orphanage program, but they had me down for teaching. I was confused at first, because they hadn't honored my request for orphanage work. But when I talked to Megan, I found out the school I'm helping out at, New Fedeli, is severely understaffed. My heart reached out for those children, and I've decided to stay. I'll be able to teach math and science, basically anything I want. It'll be a great experience, and it'll help me gather stories for my future job.
The ironic part about this trip is that I've met someone from my home area here. She actually went to Stevenson Higschool. She's also Korean, and her name is Rebecca. What a small world! I didn't expect to meet anyone from home, much less some one from Stevenson, and even much less, someone Korean. It's cool, but ironic.
I pray for Megan, because she's got a mild strain of Malaria. I just found out that the weekly pills I've gotten for myself are not as good, but I hope and pray for my own health. I'm so thankful that I've gotten here safely, and that at least my luggage is found and on its way.
Over the weekend, I'm going to get my "mom" more and get to know my way around. Hopefully it won't be too muddy on the roads, although I don't mind.
I also picked up some more swahili
sawa means OK
asanti means Thank you
Tonight will be my first experience sleeping in a mosquito net. I don't want to get Malaria. Take care everyone.
Becky
Thursday, May 14, 2009
I'M HERE!!!
So after a very long time on uncomfortable plane rides, I have made it into Nairobi, Kenya. I can't believe I'm here!
I'm actually really lucky, because I barely made it to my second plane. I arrived in Heathrow, London at 9:30. I got off the plane at about 9:45, and I got through security at 9:55-- boarding closed at 10 AM. I BARELY made it. Phew! The second plane ride was much more comfortable because there was nobody sitting next to me. It was a three person row, and I met some one who attends Baylor University. She was on her way to Tanzania, for a mission trip.
Although I arrived safely to Kenya, apparently my luggage has not. I'm going on past 48 hours without brushing my teeth, which is a first. I really hope the luggage comes in tonight. It's kind of embarrassing walking around in my care bears pajama pants, even though I never wore them to go to sleep back at home.
I slept over night at a temporary host home. My "mama host" 's name is Grace. She lives with her cousin, Monica, and orphan named Tony, and her son, Roy. He is so beautiful. Roy is mesmerized my long black hair and glasses. He also tried to eat my bag. I want to take him home with me!
In addition to being somewhat jet lagged, I couldn't sleep past 6:30 AM here because dogs started barking, roosters started crowing, and car alarms started going off from about 3 AM. To be honest, it reminds me about Trinidad and Tobago. A LOT. The houses are the same pastel color, the ruffly curtains. Currently I'm in a nicer area, but I can very well be placed in a much more rustic host home after orientation. I liked how the morning started off, with a bunch of other volunteers getting up because of "nairobi's symphony". I drank a really good cup of Chai Tea and we got to know one another. Two guys are from Utah, one from Ohio just finishing up his first year in medical school. I bunked with a researcher from Boston, and the two that bunked next to me are nurses in Florida. There's another girl from Sweden. Everybody was or is going to be involved with the HIV/ AIDS program here, while the Utah guys and I will be doing orphanage work.
I haven't had a fresh cup of water since going through security at Ohare. We talked a bit comparing bucket showers to cold showers, and such. After using the bathroom, I pleasantly discovered that the water wasn't running in the morning, hence the hand sanitizer next to the sink. It's a lot different from home, but I'm glad I have experience from Trinidad and Tobago. That trip really prepared me for this, I can tell. There's "African Time" here too, just as there is "Korean time" and "Tobaga time".
Orientation is today, which I'm excited about. I want to know where I'll be placed, my host family, and all that. I found out it's 1 shilling per minute to be online, and in the morning, it's actually half a shilling per minute. And about 70 shillings is a dollar. So being online is definitely available.
Well I'm off now, we're supposed to get picked up for orientation pretty soon.
Jambo, every one!
Becky
I'm actually really lucky, because I barely made it to my second plane. I arrived in Heathrow, London at 9:30. I got off the plane at about 9:45, and I got through security at 9:55-- boarding closed at 10 AM. I BARELY made it. Phew! The second plane ride was much more comfortable because there was nobody sitting next to me. It was a three person row, and I met some one who attends Baylor University. She was on her way to Tanzania, for a mission trip.
Although I arrived safely to Kenya, apparently my luggage has not. I'm going on past 48 hours without brushing my teeth, which is a first. I really hope the luggage comes in tonight. It's kind of embarrassing walking around in my care bears pajama pants, even though I never wore them to go to sleep back at home.
I slept over night at a temporary host home. My "mama host" 's name is Grace. She lives with her cousin, Monica, and orphan named Tony, and her son, Roy. He is so beautiful. Roy is mesmerized my long black hair and glasses. He also tried to eat my bag. I want to take him home with me!
In addition to being somewhat jet lagged, I couldn't sleep past 6:30 AM here because dogs started barking, roosters started crowing, and car alarms started going off from about 3 AM. To be honest, it reminds me about Trinidad and Tobago. A LOT. The houses are the same pastel color, the ruffly curtains. Currently I'm in a nicer area, but I can very well be placed in a much more rustic host home after orientation. I liked how the morning started off, with a bunch of other volunteers getting up because of "nairobi's symphony". I drank a really good cup of Chai Tea and we got to know one another. Two guys are from Utah, one from Ohio just finishing up his first year in medical school. I bunked with a researcher from Boston, and the two that bunked next to me are nurses in Florida. There's another girl from Sweden. Everybody was or is going to be involved with the HIV/ AIDS program here, while the Utah guys and I will be doing orphanage work.
I haven't had a fresh cup of water since going through security at Ohare. We talked a bit comparing bucket showers to cold showers, and such. After using the bathroom, I pleasantly discovered that the water wasn't running in the morning, hence the hand sanitizer next to the sink. It's a lot different from home, but I'm glad I have experience from Trinidad and Tobago. That trip really prepared me for this, I can tell. There's "African Time" here too, just as there is "Korean time" and "Tobaga time".
Orientation is today, which I'm excited about. I want to know where I'll be placed, my host family, and all that. I found out it's 1 shilling per minute to be online, and in the morning, it's actually half a shilling per minute. And about 70 shillings is a dollar. So being online is definitely available.
Well I'm off now, we're supposed to get picked up for orientation pretty soon.
Jambo, every one!
Becky
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Departure Day
It always seems like the day before/ day of a big trip is full of obstacles.
As most of you know, I'm an avid runner. Currently, I've been injured since March with feet problems. The doctor diagnosed it with Morton's Neuroma, but I'm not sure about that anymore.
I have this baby blanket that I've slept with for God knows how long. My parents have been trying to get me away from it for the longest time. Well since moving back, my mom had taken the blanket and had "thrown it away". I was really upset, telling her that she could at least place it in a special drawer if she really want me to stop sleeping with "Blankie". She gave in and returned the blanket to me.
My mom is a very observant person. She then took my feet into her hands and looked at them, even though I told her that my feet were dirty. Nonsense, she said, you're still my baby. I'm still her 19 year old baby. Then she noticed that my feet were extremely swollen where I've been hurting--it looked bad. I had never noticed because I typically wear socks. Maybe she's making a bigger deal than she should, but then she made an appointment to see a doctor, TODAY. She kept saying that I might not be able to go to Kenya and all that.
I know that I'll still go. I mean, although it's been extremely hard not being able to run and walk for long periods of time, but I know I must go. I just hope things aren't as serious as my mom made it seem.
Similar things happened when I was about to leave for Trinidad and Tobago back during summer of 2007. I just have to get over these things and focus on what lies ahead. I'm kind of just hoping this problem will solve itself. I mean, your body is an amazing machine. It fixes injuries on it's own through time.... right?
I just can't believes it's today. It's insane that all this time has passed. It'll be an extremely long trip, but it's all worth it. Actually, I'm terrified of the trip, but I'll just have to get up every half hour or so. wow that's 15-16 times. i'm going to make sure I have a seat inthe aisle.
The next time I write, I'll actually be in the country! =)
Becky
As most of you know, I'm an avid runner. Currently, I've been injured since March with feet problems. The doctor diagnosed it with Morton's Neuroma, but I'm not sure about that anymore.
I have this baby blanket that I've slept with for God knows how long. My parents have been trying to get me away from it for the longest time. Well since moving back, my mom had taken the blanket and had "thrown it away". I was really upset, telling her that she could at least place it in a special drawer if she really want me to stop sleeping with "Blankie". She gave in and returned the blanket to me.
My mom is a very observant person. She then took my feet into her hands and looked at them, even though I told her that my feet were dirty. Nonsense, she said, you're still my baby. I'm still her 19 year old baby. Then she noticed that my feet were extremely swollen where I've been hurting--it looked bad. I had never noticed because I typically wear socks. Maybe she's making a bigger deal than she should, but then she made an appointment to see a doctor, TODAY. She kept saying that I might not be able to go to Kenya and all that.
I know that I'll still go. I mean, although it's been extremely hard not being able to run and walk for long periods of time, but I know I must go. I just hope things aren't as serious as my mom made it seem.
Similar things happened when I was about to leave for Trinidad and Tobago back during summer of 2007. I just have to get over these things and focus on what lies ahead. I'm kind of just hoping this problem will solve itself. I mean, your body is an amazing machine. It fixes injuries on it's own through time.... right?
I just can't believes it's today. It's insane that all this time has passed. It'll be an extremely long trip, but it's all worth it. Actually, I'm terrified of the trip, but I'll just have to get up every half hour or so. wow that's 15-16 times. i'm going to make sure I have a seat inthe aisle.
The next time I write, I'll actually be in the country! =)
Becky
Saturday, May 9, 2009
Airplane Scare
I'm finally back at home. After a couple days of packing up my belongings in an endless supply of cardboard cubes, my parents arrived 8 PM last night. We stuffed it into a small moving truck attached to our van, and finally arrived in Wilmette after midnight.
Before I left, I made sure I said my good-byes to Bloomington-Normal. When I left this place for winter break, I wasn't sad because I knew I'd be returning in 3 weeks. But I woke up yesterday realizing that it'll be mid August before I see the area again. It seems as though I'm leaving B-Norm as soon as it's becoming beautiful. The Constitution Trail was an integral part of my life this year--I don't know what I'm going to do without it. It kept me sane. Funny that a road of concrete through trees and parks helped me, but it did.
Today was pretty stressful regarding plane tickets. My dad noticed that I had only an hour between my flight to London and then to Nairobi. After staying on hold for over 40 minutes trying to get ahold of British Airways, I was relieved to hear that I wouldn't have to go through check in again. The flights are "married", and so I'll be going to and fro from the same terminal. PHEW!!
I'm not a fan of flights. There's only one pleasant experience I remember, which was when I was too tired to feel the plane lift off. I slept through the entire thing and didn't believe my parents when they said we had arrived. I just didn't grow up with them My first vacation was when I was 10 years old, to Niagra Falls. Up until then, I nagged my mother every time I saw an airplane. "Amma, when am I going to ride one? I want to fly to!" Psh, fly shmly. I will be riding 8.5~ hours to London, then the same amount to Nairobi. I'm bringing tons of books and hopefully they'll play good movies.
Watching Gilmore Girls has reminded of the bookworm I used to be as a little girl. I'd BECOME someone else, able to go places that I couldn't go. Instead of remembering that I had a 2 year old brother to watch, and a sister one year younger that couldn't read yet, I'd read and read. Then it just kinda waned off as I became bombarded with books in highschool. Now I'm picking up reading for pleasure again. I mean, although Rory is a fictional character, she is somewhat.... real..... I'm just going to pretend she is somewhat because she manages to read for pleasure as well as read for school.
The thought of language comes up. Right now I'm reading "Chocolat". Although I absolutely ADORE the French language, I had started to get sad not learning Spanish for my later teaching experiences. But reading this book made me realize that I got so much more from the book by knowing the language. French is so beautiful--it encompasses the culture, the art, the history of France. My mother said the first thing the Japanese did when colonizing Korea, was to forbid using the Korean language. I can't imagine it being illegal to speak English. What a night mare!
And speaking of Spanish, I've started watching Gilmore Girls with Spanish subtitles. That'll help a little bit. haha I hope I can pick up Swahili!!!!
Well before I babble on further, I'll be off. JUST 3 MORE DAYS FROM TOMORROW!!!
Becky
Before I left, I made sure I said my good-byes to Bloomington-Normal. When I left this place for winter break, I wasn't sad because I knew I'd be returning in 3 weeks. But I woke up yesterday realizing that it'll be mid August before I see the area again. It seems as though I'm leaving B-Norm as soon as it's becoming beautiful. The Constitution Trail was an integral part of my life this year--I don't know what I'm going to do without it. It kept me sane. Funny that a road of concrete through trees and parks helped me, but it did.
Today was pretty stressful regarding plane tickets. My dad noticed that I had only an hour between my flight to London and then to Nairobi. After staying on hold for over 40 minutes trying to get ahold of British Airways, I was relieved to hear that I wouldn't have to go through check in again. The flights are "married", and so I'll be going to and fro from the same terminal. PHEW!!
I'm not a fan of flights. There's only one pleasant experience I remember, which was when I was too tired to feel the plane lift off. I slept through the entire thing and didn't believe my parents when they said we had arrived. I just didn't grow up with them My first vacation was when I was 10 years old, to Niagra Falls. Up until then, I nagged my mother every time I saw an airplane. "Amma, when am I going to ride one? I want to fly to!" Psh, fly shmly. I will be riding 8.5~ hours to London, then the same amount to Nairobi. I'm bringing tons of books and hopefully they'll play good movies.
Watching Gilmore Girls has reminded of the bookworm I used to be as a little girl. I'd BECOME someone else, able to go places that I couldn't go. Instead of remembering that I had a 2 year old brother to watch, and a sister one year younger that couldn't read yet, I'd read and read. Then it just kinda waned off as I became bombarded with books in highschool. Now I'm picking up reading for pleasure again. I mean, although Rory is a fictional character, she is somewhat.... real..... I'm just going to pretend she is somewhat because she manages to read for pleasure as well as read for school.
The thought of language comes up. Right now I'm reading "Chocolat". Although I absolutely ADORE the French language, I had started to get sad not learning Spanish for my later teaching experiences. But reading this book made me realize that I got so much more from the book by knowing the language. French is so beautiful--it encompasses the culture, the art, the history of France. My mother said the first thing the Japanese did when colonizing Korea, was to forbid using the Korean language. I can't imagine it being illegal to speak English. What a night mare!
And speaking of Spanish, I've started watching Gilmore Girls with Spanish subtitles. That'll help a little bit. haha I hope I can pick up Swahili!!!!
Well before I babble on further, I'll be off. JUST 3 MORE DAYS FROM TOMORROW!!!
Becky
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Yellow Fever
So I got the yellow fever vaccine. I'm really glad I got it today because I found out that the certificate becomes valid 10 days after getting it. In reality, I'm entering Kenya 9 days after, but the doctor thinks it'll be ok. I mean, if I have to sit at the airport until midnight, then so be it.
As I was sitting there reading the Yellow Fever handout from the clinic, I couldn't help but get scared. There was a slim to no chance of me getting sick, but the reality of Yellow Fever is devastating. I'm glad I don't feel sore or anything right now, because a lot of people feel that after vaccines. The shot was also given at a weird spot. Instead of my muscle, it went into the fatty tissue that rests on the back of my arm. I HATE SHOTS.
Funny thing is, the travel clinic had called to reschedule my appointment until tomorrow. I was originally going to be at Shirk by 11 AM (IWU's rec center), but ended up falling asleep. At 11:30, my cell rang and the clinic wanted me to get there right then. I took the bus and got there by noon. It's so cool how God made everything work out. As I was waking up, I was wondering why I hadn't gotten myself to get up, but if I had, then the vaccine would have taken place tomorrow. AND I got to shop at Target for groceries.
As much as I'm ready to go to Kenya, I have a lot of closure left in Normal, IL. I have to pack up all my stuff in this apartment, and then pack up again for Kenya. And with this closure, I'm nervous for what to expect. I'm not sure if they've ever seen an Asian woman before. What are the stereotypes there? Do I have to be even more careful than Caucasian woman? I can just anticipate for what is to come. I don't even know where I'll be located yet, although I'm going to request RURAL Nairobi. (Nairobi is nicknamed Nairobbery and that's where all the political unrest would happen if it did)
I have begun praying for the people I will meet in Kenya. Just one more week from tomorrow. Yay!
As I was sitting there reading the Yellow Fever handout from the clinic, I couldn't help but get scared. There was a slim to no chance of me getting sick, but the reality of Yellow Fever is devastating. I'm glad I don't feel sore or anything right now, because a lot of people feel that after vaccines. The shot was also given at a weird spot. Instead of my muscle, it went into the fatty tissue that rests on the back of my arm. I HATE SHOTS.
Funny thing is, the travel clinic had called to reschedule my appointment until tomorrow. I was originally going to be at Shirk by 11 AM (IWU's rec center), but ended up falling asleep. At 11:30, my cell rang and the clinic wanted me to get there right then. I took the bus and got there by noon. It's so cool how God made everything work out. As I was waking up, I was wondering why I hadn't gotten myself to get up, but if I had, then the vaccine would have taken place tomorrow. AND I got to shop at Target for groceries.
As much as I'm ready to go to Kenya, I have a lot of closure left in Normal, IL. I have to pack up all my stuff in this apartment, and then pack up again for Kenya. And with this closure, I'm nervous for what to expect. I'm not sure if they've ever seen an Asian woman before. What are the stereotypes there? Do I have to be even more careful than Caucasian woman? I can just anticipate for what is to come. I don't even know where I'll be located yet, although I'm going to request RURAL Nairobi. (Nairobi is nicknamed Nairobbery and that's where all the political unrest would happen if it did)
I have begun praying for the people I will meet in Kenya. Just one more week from tomorrow. Yay!
Sunday, May 3, 2009
10 Day Count Down
I can't believe there's only 10 more days until I leave for Kenya. This seems so surreal--I'm going to be in AFRICA!!!!
Kenya has always held a mystical place in my heart. Not only have I known many people who have volunteered in Kenya, all the elite distance runners hail from here. Of course, I do not expect to see or meet any of them, but the fact that I'll be on the same ground that they train on is amazing.
I'm kind of scared. This isn't going to be the first time away from home or living away from friends and family, but this is going to be the first time I'll be alone in a foreign country. Thankfully one of the official languages is English, but I don't know much of Swahili other than "Jambo", which means "hello". I hope I can pick up at least some Swahili, even though a month is a very short time to learn a language.
Meanwhile, I have a life to finish up and smooth off before I leave for 4 weeks. I still have finals and classes to conclude, although taking classes at the local community college was a nice break from grueling and stressful academics. I learned a LOT this semester, just in a different way.
I tried to pick out pretty custom layouts and stuff for my blog but I think it's just going to stay this way. My computer is so old, it can't handle firefox and all that. It already feels like I've wasted time looking for programs that'll be compatible for my ancient screen.
Again, I can't believe it's so soon. This trip wasn't as hard to plan since it's by myself, I'm amazed that my finances and schedule is all working out. It means a lot to me, like something that God really wants me to do.
I don't know how often I'll update in Kenya, but this is a good start. I have a lot of feelings leading up to this event, so might as well keep record of it.
In Christ,
Becky
Kenya has always held a mystical place in my heart. Not only have I known many people who have volunteered in Kenya, all the elite distance runners hail from here. Of course, I do not expect to see or meet any of them, but the fact that I'll be on the same ground that they train on is amazing.
I'm kind of scared. This isn't going to be the first time away from home or living away from friends and family, but this is going to be the first time I'll be alone in a foreign country. Thankfully one of the official languages is English, but I don't know much of Swahili other than "Jambo", which means "hello". I hope I can pick up at least some Swahili, even though a month is a very short time to learn a language.
Meanwhile, I have a life to finish up and smooth off before I leave for 4 weeks. I still have finals and classes to conclude, although taking classes at the local community college was a nice break from grueling and stressful academics. I learned a LOT this semester, just in a different way.
I tried to pick out pretty custom layouts and stuff for my blog but I think it's just going to stay this way. My computer is so old, it can't handle firefox and all that. It already feels like I've wasted time looking for programs that'll be compatible for my ancient screen.
Again, I can't believe it's so soon. This trip wasn't as hard to plan since it's by myself, I'm amazed that my finances and schedule is all working out. It means a lot to me, like something that God really wants me to do.
I don't know how often I'll update in Kenya, but this is a good start. I have a lot of feelings leading up to this event, so might as well keep record of it.
In Christ,
Becky
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