It has been almost a year since I first landed in Kenya, and now I am preparing to meet the new group of trainees as they travel to their training site in Loitokitok. In the mornings I have been hearing a vibrancy among the birds' songs that has not been present since last November. The start of the rains have come and everything is green again. There continues to be a lot of talk about El Nino, with people telling tales of last time El Nino hit the country and all of the destruction it caused. I was a bit scared by their stories, but now I am a bit disappointed by this "El Nino" - if it can even be called that. We only had "torrential" rains for maybe two days. I really think that the country needs more of this. I may be speaking too soon though, since the rain is supposed to come again in November and December.
A few days after the fiercest rains I went outside my house and found a week old puppy curled up next to my bread oven. His mother was not around, and although he as weak he was still alive. I wondered how it had landed here, but without giving it a thorough inquisition I bought it milk and started feeding it. He was so weak that the milk had to be poured into his mouth. It was all the talk around the school, "that dog is lucky to have landed at one of the few houses where it would be given milk instead of being stoned to death." I admit that buying milk for the dog made me feel guilty since there are so many humans around that would love milk. How would I have reacted if a beggar had found his way to my house?
I made a burlap bed for the dog and went to teach my classes. When I returned the dogs mother was there, and it was obvious that she was too malnourished to produce any milk for the puppy. A teacher at school told me, "if you love the child, shouldn't you also love the mother?" To which I said, "sure, but that doesn't mean that I want to feed her." After a few minutes I softened and I cooked the mother a meal of dog food (the dog food here comes as a powder. You have to mix it with boiling water and stir).
I tried to attend to the puppy again, giving it more milk, until it eventually threw it all back up due to my enthusiastic feeding regiment.
As I went to sleep I tucked the puppy into the burlap bed, and watched as the mother put her paws around it to keep it warm.
In the morning, the puppy was lying about a foot away from the mother, dead. I was disappointed, because I had been thinking about how fun it would be to have a dog, but I was also relieved because I have other things to focus my attention on besides a dog. Maybe I should have let the puppy sleep inside my house next to a sauce pot of hot water. Maybe there is nothing I could have done. I felt bad, but I dug a hole, while two of my students sung a Kimeru burial song, and that was the end of my puppy.
Since then almost all of the heavy rain clouds have faded from the sky. Even the dirt seems to be more vibrant than before, probably because of the contrast between the brown and green. The dust is definitely gone for a few days and the students are happy to be able to sit in the grass without getting muddy OR dusty.
I hope that we remain in this equilibrium for another week so that the new trainees can wake up their first morning in Nairobi to the smell of growing plants and the sounds of birds. If they miss it, at least they will get to see Kenya's second spring season in April.
27 October 2009
12 October 2009
A Few Photos
I am in Nairobi and I am using my access to electricity and nearby cellphone booster towers to upload a few pictures from my computer.
Finally, here are two pictures of common building materials for homes in rural Kenya. The first home is mine. It measures approximately 10 ft. by 20 ft. The Kenyans in the village did not believe that a white person (muzungu) is able to live in a house like this. They believed that I would threaten to go home when I saw this house and demand that it be replaced by a much larger home with more amenities. I think it is nice though. It keeps the rain out most of the time, and it encourages me to spend more time outside. The bottom picture is of a more traditional style of home. This one is not quite traditional due to its tin roof, but the walls are made out of a mixture of sticks, mud, and cow dung and the floor is made of dirt.
The first picture is one of the form four students at our school standing in front of his father's matatu. This is the most common vehicle used for public transportation. The student helps his father over the holidays by washing the vehicle and driving the route (and promptly washing it again because it is so dusty).
This is the acting deputy principal at my school, Mr. Nderitu. He lives in the hills above the school where the conditions are right for growing tea.
Finally, here are two pictures of common building materials for homes in rural Kenya. The first home is mine. It measures approximately 10 ft. by 20 ft. The Kenyans in the village did not believe that a white person (muzungu) is able to live in a house like this. They believed that I would threaten to go home when I saw this house and demand that it be replaced by a much larger home with more amenities. I think it is nice though. It keeps the rain out most of the time, and it encourages me to spend more time outside. The bottom picture is of a more traditional style of home. This one is not quite traditional due to its tin roof, but the walls are made out of a mixture of sticks, mud, and cow dung and the floor is made of dirt.
10 October 2009
Farewell Party for Form Four Students
The form four students are having a farewell party in about one week. They asked me to be their adviser for the preparations, and for the most part the program is similar to that of an American ceremony for a similar occasion. It will start with a service, then there will be presentations by the school clubs, followed by speeches from the PTA Representative and the chairman of the school's board. The difference is that as part of my role as adviser is to help them pick out a bull, which will be slaughtered the day of the event. We have not yet found the bull, but the process involves finding one in an animal market and then walking with the bull on a foot path cross-country to the school (up to around 15 km).
The bull is really what makes the occasion. We have to find a big healthy one. This isn't my specialty, and the students know it. Mostly my role is to be the money bearer and lead novice bull-hunter.
It is still strange to think about the places where technology has come in and the places where it has not. Everyone has a cell phone and wears a New York Yankees baseball hat (new, still with a sticker, just like my brother in America wears), but electricity is not very common. Only very rich individuals own refrigerators and then they own what Americans call a mini-fridge. Butcheries definitely do not have a refrigerator and neither do schools. The people are very able to do without them though. On the day of the party our school cook and his two aides will butcher a cow, cook tea, cook the bull, and cook rice for around 400 people.
(Below is a picture from the wedding of Mr. Mutia that shows what a meal at a party looks like.)
Day After:
I met my students in Maua on Saturday expecting to spend the day sitting in the market until the time when the students bargained for a good bull. Then we would end the day by driving it home. Instead, I met the students on Saturday to find that they had not made the necessary arrangements. I went home realizing that I needed to come up with a back-up plan for them in case they needed me to become the head bull diviner. I am good friends with an animal doctor and after a phone call with him on Sunday morning I was preparing to take charge of the bull, but then one of the students called me to say that one of their fathers had agreed to sell us a mid-sized bull for the price we had budgeted for.
I am happy that my student's pulled through without me, but then my happiness turned into slight disappointment when they told me that the father agreed to deliver the bull in the back of his Land Rover. I have been told since that bulls can be rough on their handlers when they get separated from the herd. Although I coveted the idea of trekking cross-country through the Kenyan bush, the Land Rover really was a blessing.
Due to the delay, I did not have the time to go by foot anyways. I had to head to Nairobi very early the next morning, because I was selected by my supervisor in Peace Corps to help plan the training for the new group of secondary school teachers that will come in November. I will be busy in Nairobi, until Saturday morning, at which point I will rush back to Athiru to eat the bull that I picked out of the herd with my students. Together we will listen to speeches by the PTA, board of governors, and the principal. Then the deputy will give prizes to the students who performed the best and those who were active in leading the school.
Then on the 20th the form fours will begin their KCSE. Each day for two and a half weeks they will take two 1.5-2.5 hour tests. Then they will leave the school and wait at home for over two months before they receive their scores.
28 September 2009
The Hard and the Soft
Okay. Lots of stuff all mixed together. I've started doing yoga. The book that I have is called "Power Yoga" and is the official yoga program of the New York Runner's Club. The author makes reference to that olde dichotomy, the yin and the yang, or the hard and the soft. What she was referencing on the literal level is that you have to be flexible in order to be strong, or in order to actually use your strength. Of course, similar lines of reasoning can be applied in other situations. All of that is only vaguely related to what I will talk about in this post, but you'll see why that title came to mind.
First, The Soft:
I defied all sorts of cultural norms with regards to sexuality on Sunday. Me, a young bachelor, had invited two of my Kenyan friends, who happen to be married, over to my house for Sunday lunch. In preparation I went down to the milk buying center, bought some milk, and made some poor quality mozzarella. All of this all by myself, without the help of a woman! Then I got a couple of students to help me build a fire and make the bread and pizza dough. Then we chopped veggies, made sauce, and prepared for our guests. The guests came in their Sunday best and we feasted! My recipe just keep improving, and they were very satisfied, although I did require a lot of steering by the others about how to treat guests. I continued to work cooking even though they were standing. I cooked tea, but didn't bring the sugar, and then didn't bring the spoon for the sugar. I did offer them water for drinking before they were able to ask for it. Both the guests and the students were very appreciative, despite the fact that this may have been the first or second time in their lives that these 14 year old boys had cooked. I asked a 20 year old male assistant teacher to cook with me a couple of weeks ago and he told me that it was the first time he had ever cooked a meal! It feels really good to share the soft side of myself with Kenyans and to help them open up their soft selves also.
Then, The Hard:
Later that night, 15 minutes after finishing a long phone conversation with a friend from America, I was laying in bed and heard three loud bangs, like someone hitting a piece of wood. Then 30 seconds later one louder bang that sounded like something hard hitting something soft.
I pulled on my trousers, debated whether or not to take my wooden cudgel (decided against it), and rushed out of my house towards the screaming noises in the dark. The boys were all standing around outside yelling at each other looking upset, and piece by piece I found out that one student had been making noise (for debated reasons). The self-appointed asst. dorm captain had responded by first telling the boy to be quite and then beating the boy with a belt - the three whacks. In retaliation the boy had grabbed a timber, about the size of a 2x4 and had whacked the student in the back of the skull, causing the asst. dorm captain to get pretty loopy to the point that he was unable to walk.
By the time that I reached them, a group of students had instinctively decided to rush him off to the hospital. Unfortunately, their instincts over powered their logic and they didn't tell me or take any money. At night, the hospital is a 4 km walk and then a 4 km. taxi drive. From sampling different hysterical students knowledge there seemed to be a group of about 15 of them somewhere in between our school and the hospital at, by now, midnight. The students are not supposed to have cell phones, but they do have them, and after another half hour I coerced them into giving me the number of one of the students in the hospital party. By this time I had called the teacher on duty, who also has a Land Rover, and he was on his way to help them. In Kenyan emergency rooms they wont treat you if you do not pay first, so these students were not going to get very far without our help. Thankfully the teacher was able to find them, and front the money and the student got stitches.
By 3:15am when they had dropped back to school, I had counseled the hitter, quieted the students, and made sure that the hitter had protection from the others. So things were quite until 8:00am when I gave them a riveting speech about being your brother's keep - even referencing the bible. The situation had escalated over the course of 15 minutes, while 50+ male boarders sat around and watched first one student whip another, and then the other retaliate. It was only after the retaliation that they started becoming upset and restraining the fighters.
All over the world people want to punish each other with physical violence. It is not just the culture of this one school, American schools have guns, drugs, and fist fights also. I think that counseling is an under nourished aspect of the educational system everywhere. That being said, here it is still normal in rural places for students, children, wives, and animals to be punished with physical violence. Caning is officially illegal in the schools, but if I tell one of my student's parents that his child misbehaved he will tell me to give him a good caning. Most teachers oblige and do give the students' canings, simultaneously telling me how much "better" the canings used to be when they were in school, back when men were men, and the moral fabric of the villages was upheld.
Okay, here's how all of this relates to yoga and The Hard and The Soft. Now, we think that by punishing the body we are being very hard and strong, but maybe by learning to be soft and pliable through challenging our views we will be able to achieve a different sort of strength. I don't think that cooking is exactly the answer... but it probably wont hurt.
First, The Soft:
I defied all sorts of cultural norms with regards to sexuality on Sunday. Me, a young bachelor, had invited two of my Kenyan friends, who happen to be married, over to my house for Sunday lunch. In preparation I went down to the milk buying center, bought some milk, and made some poor quality mozzarella. All of this all by myself, without the help of a woman! Then I got a couple of students to help me build a fire and make the bread and pizza dough. Then we chopped veggies, made sauce, and prepared for our guests. The guests came in their Sunday best and we feasted! My recipe just keep improving, and they were very satisfied, although I did require a lot of steering by the others about how to treat guests. I continued to work cooking even though they were standing. I cooked tea, but didn't bring the sugar, and then didn't bring the spoon for the sugar. I did offer them water for drinking before they were able to ask for it. Both the guests and the students were very appreciative, despite the fact that this may have been the first or second time in their lives that these 14 year old boys had cooked. I asked a 20 year old male assistant teacher to cook with me a couple of weeks ago and he told me that it was the first time he had ever cooked a meal! It feels really good to share the soft side of myself with Kenyans and to help them open up their soft selves also.
Then, The Hard:
Later that night, 15 minutes after finishing a long phone conversation with a friend from America, I was laying in bed and heard three loud bangs, like someone hitting a piece of wood. Then 30 seconds later one louder bang that sounded like something hard hitting something soft.
I pulled on my trousers, debated whether or not to take my wooden cudgel (decided against it), and rushed out of my house towards the screaming noises in the dark. The boys were all standing around outside yelling at each other looking upset, and piece by piece I found out that one student had been making noise (for debated reasons). The self-appointed asst. dorm captain had responded by first telling the boy to be quite and then beating the boy with a belt - the three whacks. In retaliation the boy had grabbed a timber, about the size of a 2x4 and had whacked the student in the back of the skull, causing the asst. dorm captain to get pretty loopy to the point that he was unable to walk.
By the time that I reached them, a group of students had instinctively decided to rush him off to the hospital. Unfortunately, their instincts over powered their logic and they didn't tell me or take any money. At night, the hospital is a 4 km walk and then a 4 km. taxi drive. From sampling different hysterical students knowledge there seemed to be a group of about 15 of them somewhere in between our school and the hospital at, by now, midnight. The students are not supposed to have cell phones, but they do have them, and after another half hour I coerced them into giving me the number of one of the students in the hospital party. By this time I had called the teacher on duty, who also has a Land Rover, and he was on his way to help them. In Kenyan emergency rooms they wont treat you if you do not pay first, so these students were not going to get very far without our help. Thankfully the teacher was able to find them, and front the money and the student got stitches.
By 3:15am when they had dropped back to school, I had counseled the hitter, quieted the students, and made sure that the hitter had protection from the others. So things were quite until 8:00am when I gave them a riveting speech about being your brother's keep - even referencing the bible. The situation had escalated over the course of 15 minutes, while 50+ male boarders sat around and watched first one student whip another, and then the other retaliate. It was only after the retaliation that they started becoming upset and restraining the fighters.
All over the world people want to punish each other with physical violence. It is not just the culture of this one school, American schools have guns, drugs, and fist fights also. I think that counseling is an under nourished aspect of the educational system everywhere. That being said, here it is still normal in rural places for students, children, wives, and animals to be punished with physical violence. Caning is officially illegal in the schools, but if I tell one of my student's parents that his child misbehaved he will tell me to give him a good caning. Most teachers oblige and do give the students' canings, simultaneously telling me how much "better" the canings used to be when they were in school, back when men were men, and the moral fabric of the villages was upheld.
Okay, here's how all of this relates to yoga and The Hard and The Soft. Now, we think that by punishing the body we are being very hard and strong, but maybe by learning to be soft and pliable through challenging our views we will be able to achieve a different sort of strength. I don't think that cooking is exactly the answer... but it probably wont hurt.
17 September 2009
K.C.S.E.
On October 21st the fourth year students begin their final exam of secondary school. It is also the only exam that they have taken in secondary school that will matter after they leave. Grades do not matter, clubs and responsibilities only matter a microscopic amount, and essays cannot help them. This is It for them. The exam takes about a month, with two papers each day. Needless to say, they feel it coming. Worse, it is not just my school, but every form 4 student in Kenya will be taking the same exam at the exact same time. All of the students appear to me to have turned into ticking time-bombs by this point. Some are so on edge that are are creating discipline problems, others are studying so long and furiously that I am worried them will lose it before exam time, and a few of them have become so mellow and lost emotionally that the emotional explosion wont happen until they leave school.
In my 8 student form 4 physics class I have all of the three types. Two of the students were sent home from breaking into the principal's office. Two of the students are super focused, and 4 are unable to pay attention even when I am lecturing them about paying attention. It saddens me to follow their gazes out the window and realize that they are staring disinterestedly at nothing.
I feel for them. I want them to see other possibilities for success, or to put there time spent in secondary school into a broader context: they are part of literate Kenya. They have more access to information than most Kenyans, and even though they wont be able to go to college, they are helping - they are stepping Kenya in a better direction than if they had not gone to school. I understand though that it is difficult for them to see this. Someone who goes to college will earn around 20000-35000 Kenya shillings a month as a starting teacher and someone who does not go to college will likely earn 2, 3, 4 thousand shillings a month (if they are able to find employment). Some will go to polytechnics and learn to be a carpenter or mechanic, and others who have connections will be employed earning decent livings. In perspective, food for one person for one month if you buy it all is about 1000 for a very cheap, entirely local food diet.
So most of them are trying to get into that upper echelon. They have proposed that we do 4 labs per week for the next month in addition to our normal lessons where we are revising past exams. I am happy that they are excited about practicals, but wish that their enthusiasm began in a different context.
The other students do not seem to understand what the form 4's are going through exactly. They are acting like little siblings, displaying superficial understanding, but going too far with their attempts at empathy or picking fights.
The teachers have been doing a good job at keeping the younger brothers and sisters busy though. With the support of the other teachers we found new life for the debating club. The first debate of the term was yesterday and I witnessed the form 1's versus the form 2's have an energetic debate about whether or not it is better to educate boys or girls. Students have also been starting to respond to my offers to help them with extra curricular activities. One group wants to try building a mini-biogas digester. Another group wants to try making pipes out of hollowed out trees (I don't yet understand exactly why, but I am happy to help). The students also just found out a few days ago that I have been doing yoga. I am very excited to introduce yoga (and eastern tradition in general), but first I want to feel more confident with my own ability and I want to get over my feelings of embarrassment about showing the students that I have a book full of pictures of a woman in spandex.
The best part of the energy of this term is that the principal has been around the school a lot, which has helped inspire the other teachers to be around school more. Although I sympathize with the form 4's, I have been feeling very happy to be around the school and interacting with the students.
In my 8 student form 4 physics class I have all of the three types. Two of the students were sent home from breaking into the principal's office. Two of the students are super focused, and 4 are unable to pay attention even when I am lecturing them about paying attention. It saddens me to follow their gazes out the window and realize that they are staring disinterestedly at nothing.
I feel for them. I want them to see other possibilities for success, or to put there time spent in secondary school into a broader context: they are part of literate Kenya. They have more access to information than most Kenyans, and even though they wont be able to go to college, they are helping - they are stepping Kenya in a better direction than if they had not gone to school. I understand though that it is difficult for them to see this. Someone who goes to college will earn around 20000-35000 Kenya shillings a month as a starting teacher and someone who does not go to college will likely earn 2, 3, 4 thousand shillings a month (if they are able to find employment). Some will go to polytechnics and learn to be a carpenter or mechanic, and others who have connections will be employed earning decent livings. In perspective, food for one person for one month if you buy it all is about 1000 for a very cheap, entirely local food diet.
So most of them are trying to get into that upper echelon. They have proposed that we do 4 labs per week for the next month in addition to our normal lessons where we are revising past exams. I am happy that they are excited about practicals, but wish that their enthusiasm began in a different context.
The other students do not seem to understand what the form 4's are going through exactly. They are acting like little siblings, displaying superficial understanding, but going too far with their attempts at empathy or picking fights.
The teachers have been doing a good job at keeping the younger brothers and sisters busy though. With the support of the other teachers we found new life for the debating club. The first debate of the term was yesterday and I witnessed the form 1's versus the form 2's have an energetic debate about whether or not it is better to educate boys or girls. Students have also been starting to respond to my offers to help them with extra curricular activities. One group wants to try building a mini-biogas digester. Another group wants to try making pipes out of hollowed out trees (I don't yet understand exactly why, but I am happy to help). The students also just found out a few days ago that I have been doing yoga. I am very excited to introduce yoga (and eastern tradition in general), but first I want to feel more confident with my own ability and I want to get over my feelings of embarrassment about showing the students that I have a book full of pictures of a woman in spandex.
The best part of the energy of this term is that the principal has been around the school a lot, which has helped inspire the other teachers to be around school more. Although I sympathize with the form 4's, I have been feeling very happy to be around the school and interacting with the students.
05 September 2009
Market Day - Chicken For Sale
While I was away in Mombasa a student called me to tell me that one of my chickens died, and that he thought the rest were going to die. There was also something in there about eating them that didn't really come through over the phone. I was a little upset, but not enough to ruin my day. I got back to my house yesterday pleasantly surprised to see that I still had 4 chickens left, although one had a limp. I was told that the full story about the other chickens was that one died outright, then two other looked very sick, so they were eaten. This worries me a little bit, because i could imagine a situation in which my friend the animal doctor could have been called and could have given them medicine, but oh well, that didn't happen. So then I had two roosters and two hens, one rooster with a limp. Who knows how it got that limp, I heard somewhere that they also wanted to eat that one, but thankfully they refrained because they knew that someone would tell on them. The healthy rooster was picking on the injured one and chickens are not monogomous anyways, so I decided to take the rooster to the market to sell it.
First a kid that had been picking kale with one of my students offered me 300 KSH for it, but this chicken was worth at least 400 KSH (probably more). Then with the help of my student I shackled the chickens legs with a piece of banana tree twine (the bark of the banana tree is peeled and then used to bind chickens, vegetables, and fix leaky water pipes) and set off for the market. Just outside of the school gate another man offered me 300 KSH for the chicken, but I countered with 600 KSH. I had been briefed on how to bargain from the sellers perspective by this point, and although I felt a little silly saying 600 KSH, which is more than I have ever paid for a chicken, I did it anyways. It worked well enough to get him up to 400 KSH, but I decided to try for 450 KSH and he didn't budge. So on we went. A friend of mine asked me how much it was, but then when I told her 450 KSH she told me she didn't have the money. After walking away I felt bad, and told the student that we should go back and give it to her, but he thought that we should try to get 450 and if we couldn't that we should go back. I agreed, and we walked up through the market, although we continued past the open air market because the student wanted to try selling it to a hotel he knows buys chickens. On the way some old men asked about the chicken, and we went through the bargaining process again, but they stopped too low and I told them "wazee, unacheza," in a joking tone. Translated into English this means, "old men, you are playing," which they appreciated hearing coming from a mzungu (white person) and so they laughed, and then we continuted to the hotel.
Here's how the final debate over the price of this chickens life went:
"Bwana, untaka kuku?" - sir, do you want a chicken?
"ladba, unataka bei gani?" - maybe, what is the price?
"mia sita" - 600
laugh from the shopkeeper. "hapana. Nitalipa mita tatu na hamsini" - no. I will buy it for 350
"bwana, kuku hi ni kubwa, na mimi hupatia chakula katika jioni. Kwa hivyo sasa tumbo yeye is empty (whoops, I used a little enlglish because I didn't remember empty)" - sir, this chicken is big and I feed it in the evening so it's stomach is empty (people selling chickens usually force feed them right before they try to sell them)
"400."
"450. Mimi patia chakula nzuri, na Kenbro ni kuku nzuri." - 450, I give the chicken good food, and Kenbro chickens are very good.
"sawa. 450, na kama utakua kuku wengine, leta hapa, nitanunua." - fine. 450 and if you grow more chickens bring them here, I will buy them.
So my chickens life was worth 450 KSH. Not bad for my first sale ever. Maybe the students can start raising chickens at the school and supply this guy.
First a kid that had been picking kale with one of my students offered me 300 KSH for it, but this chicken was worth at least 400 KSH (probably more). Then with the help of my student I shackled the chickens legs with a piece of banana tree twine (the bark of the banana tree is peeled and then used to bind chickens, vegetables, and fix leaky water pipes) and set off for the market. Just outside of the school gate another man offered me 300 KSH for the chicken, but I countered with 600 KSH. I had been briefed on how to bargain from the sellers perspective by this point, and although I felt a little silly saying 600 KSH, which is more than I have ever paid for a chicken, I did it anyways. It worked well enough to get him up to 400 KSH, but I decided to try for 450 KSH and he didn't budge. So on we went. A friend of mine asked me how much it was, but then when I told her 450 KSH she told me she didn't have the money. After walking away I felt bad, and told the student that we should go back and give it to her, but he thought that we should try to get 450 and if we couldn't that we should go back. I agreed, and we walked up through the market, although we continued past the open air market because the student wanted to try selling it to a hotel he knows buys chickens. On the way some old men asked about the chicken, and we went through the bargaining process again, but they stopped too low and I told them "wazee, unacheza," in a joking tone. Translated into English this means, "old men, you are playing," which they appreciated hearing coming from a mzungu (white person) and so they laughed, and then we continuted to the hotel.
Here's how the final debate over the price of this chickens life went:
"Bwana, untaka kuku?" - sir, do you want a chicken?
"ladba, unataka bei gani?" - maybe, what is the price?
"mia sita" - 600
laugh from the shopkeeper. "hapana. Nitalipa mita tatu na hamsini" - no. I will buy it for 350
"bwana, kuku hi ni kubwa, na mimi hupatia chakula katika jioni. Kwa hivyo sasa tumbo yeye is empty (whoops, I used a little enlglish because I didn't remember empty)" - sir, this chicken is big and I feed it in the evening so it's stomach is empty (people selling chickens usually force feed them right before they try to sell them)
"400."
"450. Mimi patia chakula nzuri, na Kenbro ni kuku nzuri." - 450, I give the chicken good food, and Kenbro chickens are very good.
"sawa. 450, na kama utakua kuku wengine, leta hapa, nitanunua." - fine. 450 and if you grow more chickens bring them here, I will buy them.
So my chickens life was worth 450 KSH. Not bad for my first sale ever. Maybe the students can start raising chickens at the school and supply this guy.
Contrasts
Okay, some of you know that I took a two week vacation to the US recently. A common question that people ask is, "how is the transition?" - "is it difficult?" My standard answer is "not really," but I don't think that this answer is very descriptive. Here are a few of the situations that I found myself adjusting.
I was in transit from Nairobi to San Francisco for 20+ hours and the extent of my communication with people in a non-service position was "hello" to a couple of people sitting next to me on the plane. After that we put on our headphones and didn't say another word the entire flight. In Kenya I cannot sit next to someone for more than five or ten minutes without us casually chit-chating. I cannot walk through a town for more than 3 minutes without someone saying hello to me.
The first night in America, I was driving up from SFO with Julia and we stopped at a hotel for the night. It was around 10 or 11pm, I was half asleep, and she said she was going out to the car to get something. My response was, "what, this late? is it safe? do you want me to get up and go with you?" Okay, so we were in a hotel compound, and the car was only like 50 yards away. After acclimatizing to America I realized that going out to the car was a perfectly normal thing for people to do at night. In Kenya I only walk around the village after 8pm if I someone is walking with me, and usually they are carrying some sort of stick.
Americans are rich. It took me going home to realize just how much this is true. Okay, I will admit it, I am rich. I have a computer, a digital camera, money in the bank, and I get enough money each month to buy food. Oh, and I have an ipod nano. At the back of my mind all of this is outweighed by my student loans that I will have to repay someday, but then again I was able to get loans to go to school. Credit is so much more available in America. Even if a Kenyan has a computer and a digital camera, the American doesn't usually have the same deep attachment to that item that the Kenyan does.
In Kenya if seeds are sown they will grow (provided they have sufficient water). Here I don't have to wait until March or April to think about my garden. Most people plant just before the two rainy seasons, but for a small garden that can be watered by hand, I can plant anytime.
In America if I tried to bargain for a textbook the shop keeper would look at me funny. Here it seems nearly impossible to get away from bargaining. I even have to bargain if I want to buy something from a good friend.
America has so many more choices for beer, wine, food, and spices. Kenya has 6-7 choices for beer, Guiness and 6 that come from the same company. All of them from East African Breweries are lagers and are slightly better than Budweiser. I don't really mind the limited choices. I don't need any of those things to be happy. As long as I have a balanced diet in terms of the nutrients, the flavor doesn't matter too much. I did adapt back to all the American flavors very readily though.
All in all, adapting was not too difficult. The only other contrast is that in America I have family and very close friends, while in Kenya I have a few Kenyan friends that I really trust but we don't go back as far and our cultures are very different. This one is the hardest for me to adapt to. I feel so fortunate though that I got to visit my family and friends in America. I feel energized because I have seen that they are all doing well and so i am no longer anxious about being away from them for another year and 4 months.
I was in transit from Nairobi to San Francisco for 20+ hours and the extent of my communication with people in a non-service position was "hello" to a couple of people sitting next to me on the plane. After that we put on our headphones and didn't say another word the entire flight. In Kenya I cannot sit next to someone for more than five or ten minutes without us casually chit-chating. I cannot walk through a town for more than 3 minutes without someone saying hello to me.
The first night in America, I was driving up from SFO with Julia and we stopped at a hotel for the night. It was around 10 or 11pm, I was half asleep, and she said she was going out to the car to get something. My response was, "what, this late? is it safe? do you want me to get up and go with you?" Okay, so we were in a hotel compound, and the car was only like 50 yards away. After acclimatizing to America I realized that going out to the car was a perfectly normal thing for people to do at night. In Kenya I only walk around the village after 8pm if I someone is walking with me, and usually they are carrying some sort of stick.
Americans are rich. It took me going home to realize just how much this is true. Okay, I will admit it, I am rich. I have a computer, a digital camera, money in the bank, and I get enough money each month to buy food. Oh, and I have an ipod nano. At the back of my mind all of this is outweighed by my student loans that I will have to repay someday, but then again I was able to get loans to go to school. Credit is so much more available in America. Even if a Kenyan has a computer and a digital camera, the American doesn't usually have the same deep attachment to that item that the Kenyan does.
In Kenya if seeds are sown they will grow (provided they have sufficient water). Here I don't have to wait until March or April to think about my garden. Most people plant just before the two rainy seasons, but for a small garden that can be watered by hand, I can plant anytime.
In America if I tried to bargain for a textbook the shop keeper would look at me funny. Here it seems nearly impossible to get away from bargaining. I even have to bargain if I want to buy something from a good friend.
America has so many more choices for beer, wine, food, and spices. Kenya has 6-7 choices for beer, Guiness and 6 that come from the same company. All of them from East African Breweries are lagers and are slightly better than Budweiser. I don't really mind the limited choices. I don't need any of those things to be happy. As long as I have a balanced diet in terms of the nutrients, the flavor doesn't matter too much. I did adapt back to all the American flavors very readily though.
All in all, adapting was not too difficult. The only other contrast is that in America I have family and very close friends, while in Kenya I have a few Kenyan friends that I really trust but we don't go back as far and our cultures are very different. This one is the hardest for me to adapt to. I feel so fortunate though that I got to visit my family and friends in America. I feel energized because I have seen that they are all doing well and so i am no longer anxious about being away from them for another year and 4 months.
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