Habati!

Friday was a big adventure day in Nairobi. Sara, Kristin, myself, and a couple of other volunteers decided to go to a couple of animal parks in the city. We got up and ready, and with baby Joy along for the fun, we headed out just after nine. It should’ve been about an hour and a half drive into the city – but we had some bumps along the way and didn’t actually make it to our destination until after noon.

First of all, we got pulled over for a police “inspection”. There are typically lots of police checkpoints, where they wave seemingly random cars and mtatus (vans that serve as taxis) over to the side of the road, checking for licenses and stopping people for speeding. But this time, we were asked to use a turn off on the side of the road where there were mtatus, busses, cars, and people everywhere. Our driver, Alex got out of the car to try to talk to a couple of the officials (they’d taken his license so we couldn’t drive off) and we began to wonder how suspicious it must look to be traveling with five white girls and a little African baby. Thankfully, though there were people set up selling roasted maize, candy, sodas, and popcorn to everyone waiting, we managed to get away without much of any inspection after only fifteen minutes or so.

We headed on to the giraffe park in Karen, and thankfully Sara had a vague idea where it was, because it turned out that Alex definitely didn’t. We stopped for directions multiple times, but in the end we arrived and were delighted to get out of the car for a bit. The park is small, it’s set up where you pay a fee to go up a set of stairs to a sort of balcony overlooking an enclosure of giraffes and warthogs. Being so high up, the giraffes are able to reach their heads over the little fence and greet you at about eye level. Joy was fine with the whole situation until Sara reached out her hand to feed one of them. As soon as she came in contact with the massive animal Joy began to scream and scream. But luckily, upon backing away, little Joy calmed down and we all got a chance to feed the giraffes, pet them, and even feed them straight from our mouths. Yeah – a giraffe kiss was quite the experience.

Our next stop was the animal orphanage, a part of the Nairobi National Park. Not long after we entered, Peter, one of the workers, began to show us around the different enclosures (most of which only consisted of a chain-link fence separating us from Cheetahs, Lions, and Hyenas). Sara spoke up quickly and said, “So we’ve heard you’re allowed to pet some of the baby cheetahs…” Peter responded quietly with a quick “Shh! You’re not really allowed to do that, but I’ll see what I can do.”

After continuing a little ways through the park, they took us to one of the enclosures near the back and opened the gate. They hurried us all in, saying “go quickly, go quickly!” We stepped into the cage with a full-grown 13-year-old female cheetah and the workers just casually took our pictures as we pet her and listened to her purring like the typical house cat. She rolled over for a little belly scratch and Joy started to whimper – Sara was quick to cover her mouth before she made too much noise to startle the big cat. We headed out just as the cheetah started to stand up, and as we walked away (and tipped the guys, of course) we were all a bit stunned.

The day continued with a stop at Java House – Kenyan’s American food. When we got back to the site, we had a good time hanging out with the older kids. Jehosephat, one of the oldest boys, has been opening up so much more over the last week or so. Sara and I had a good time playing games with him and a few of the other kids once they’d finished all that they needed to do for the next day. And when him and a few of the boys asked when I’d come back to visit I replied with, “I don’t know, when do you think?” “The day after you leave.” He said. I agree.

I went for a run on Saturday afternoon while the toddlers were napping. I’ve been able to go up and down the bumpy dirt road that leads from the main road to the orphanage, and on the route I pass by several houses of the village kids who go to church at Into Abbas on Sundays. One girl caught me off guard when I noticed half way down the road that she’d joined me and was following close behind. I asked her name, and in surprisingly strong English she told me her name was Gladis. She continued with me (barefoot) nearly the whole time I ran, telling me how she’s the fastest in her class seven, and by the time I finished there were ten or so other kids who’d joined us.

I love the friendliness of Kenya. Of course, it’s not necessarily something you find everywhere you go – but, especially in Kinangop, mzungus (white people) aren’t a very common sight and the kids make a special effort to stop whatever they’re doing and run to the edge of the road to wave and yell “Habati, habati!” (“How are you, how are you?”).

It seems that the whole weekend was full of excitement – and with the U.S. vs. Ghana game, Saturday night was no exception. After most of the kids went to bed, Sara, Kristin, and I joined a few of the Kenyan staff as well as the boys: Moses, Jehosephat, Newton, Johnny, and George to watch the game on the little 13” screen in the back of the church. We all huddled around with our Stoneys, soda we’d bought when we walked to a market, and popcorn Sara made special for the occasion. It was freezing and sad to see the Americans loose, but fun to watch them all see the final African team pull through.

Kibera

On Monday I had the opportunity to meet Kristin’s friend Fred who helps run the Joy Divine Children’s Organization, a boys’ orphanage in Nairobi. He and his friend Kevin picked up Sara, Kristin, and I, and we made the drive into Nairobi to visit both the orphanage as well as Kibera – the largest slum in East Africa. Though the most recent census results aren’t available, people estimate its population is well over one million. Fred introduced us to Beatrice, a woman who is a part of a network between orphanages and schools within the slum, and she was gracious enough to show us three of them.

The environment throughout Kibera was something that’s difficult to describe; even with pictures. We wound around a maze of dirt roads with tin, mud, and lean-to “buildings” lined up along the narrow alleyways. Dogs picked through piles of trash lining any free space, and there seemed to be people everywhere.

The first school we stopped at was a two-story structure with wooden ladders leading up to additional classrooms and bedrooms. It was started by one woman who took in two orphaned babies she’d found on the street. Eventually there were more children, and there was a realization that they needed some form of education if they were to have any hope. But as with most people living in Kibera, few have access to government schooling. Though it’s “free”, parents are responsible to pay for books and uniforms, which don’t necessarily come at an affordable price. The school we were at – as well as the others we visited – was an informal school. They aren’t government funded, or even official schools, but they follow the Kenyan curriculum in hopes that students may be able to test into high school.

When we arrived, the children were having their lunch break. They were all served beans and maize (ugali is given each day for dinner). Besides finding the funding for food and basic medicines, we were told that one of the greatest challenges the group faces is holding on to staff members. They are paid little, if anything… so if they do come through as volunteers, many don’t stay more than a matter of months or a few years.

This particular school is serving over three hundred students. They had kids sleeping on three-tier bunk beds with four or five of them sharing one twin-sized mattress. It was incredible to see the sheer mass of need these people have. They were hoping for any kind of help – pencils, school supplies, medicines, anything.

The second school we saw was constructed of mud and wood structures with a second story where many of them slept on mats with one or two blankets on them. The rooms were tiny, and the entire place had a particular stench that took a little bit of getting used to. But like everywhere else we visited, the kids were shy yet happy to see us. Excited, they greeted our hellos with “habati!”

The last informal institution we saw was the largest. With classrooms in colorfully painted containers, it had 450 students on-site (with 13 staff members), and the headmaster kept stressing that there were more who wanted to come, but there was simply no more space.

The whole scene was overwhelming. It’s difficult to even comprehend how many people are living in the conditions we were seeing. Few if any of them have access to clean water, and crime and violence is a major issue. Government housing is being built around parts of the slum’s perimeter in an effort to keep it from expanding farther while providing better living environments, but we were told that many people who move into the housing aren’t used to the style of living and end up back in the slums where they grew up.

It’s hard to imagine a change to a problem so big – the idea of finding a sustainable means of help that would truly make a difference seems nearly impossible. Yet that’s the key. These people really do need help, but they’re in need of more than just school supplies here or there or some trash clean-up crews. I really believe organizations like these informal schools are offering hope for something more in the future.

Once we were finished in Kibera, we headed to Joy Divine, the orphanage Fred is connected with. The set up is quite a bit different than Into Abbas Arms, with ten or so more kids and all of them boys – with the youngest being six years old. It’s a two-story building set up with three staff workers who take care of the laundry, cooking, and housework. Before we headed out, Fred and his mother (the orphanage’s founder) were gracious enough to serve us a delicious meal of stew, greens, and chipati – my favorite!

Back here at IAA, the weather seems to be getting a little colder as each day goes on. (At night, Sara, Kristin, and I have a good time gearing up with layers of socks and long sleeves under our pile of blankets on each of our beds.) The other day, Anne taught a few of us to do laundry by hand, though it was inconvenient that it started raining that afternoon so we all made the mad dash outside to collect as much as we could from the lines before they were completely soaked.

One of my favorite places to be during the day is the “upper” kitchen, where all the Kenyans cook for the staff as well as the older kids. There’s nearly always something to be doing - whether it’s washing dishes, cleaning, chopping, or sorting some type of bean, potato, carrot, or cabbage. And with all the cooking going on, its also one of the warmest places on site, which is a definite bonus! All the women who work here come in and out between their jobs throughout the day, and though I definitely can’t understand the conversations they have among themselves, I love the environment. They are so happy to be doing what they’re doing, they’re relaxed, and some of the sweetest, most friendly people I’ve ever met. This is something I’ve been fortunate to witness often throughout Kenya. People are so happy to have what they’re given, and both here and at the slums, they praise God for what they have and use every effort to give all that they can to make a difference in so many kids’ lives. And much of what they’re doing is hard work. Like Lydia told me today while we were mopping, Kenyans do everything with their hands.

When the older kids are around in the evenings, I’m still loving providing some homework help, or just a fun chat if need be. Last night I was helping Sheilah (a sixth grader and the oldest girl living here on site) out with some of her math homework, and when we finished she took it upon herself to give me some homework to do myself. I now have a list of twenty or so words in Kiswahili with a little note at the bottom, “you have to know all these words”. I’m sure she’ll be checking up on my progress.

Adventures in Nursery School

For Kristin and I, this weekend was safari time. Now I was definitely excited about the opportunity, and I was so happy to be going, but what we experienced was far beyond what I’d expected. We made the nearly seven-hour drive to the Masai Mara reserve, bordering Tanzania. During our first drive on Saturday evening, the whole thing started to hit me. The scenery around us was one of the most beautiful things I’ve seen in my life – with open plains stretching farther than our eyes could see and huge thunderheads splotched across the bright blue sky (not to mention the giraffe silhouettes dotting the horizon). We got to see just about everything on the reserve, from lion prides feet from our car, to a baby rhino and a heard of elephants – again, literally right outside the window.

Being at a resort for the weekend was a really strange experience. It was a really nice place and everything, but it was difficult not to think about how different life is for locals. The Masai people live in dung-huts with stick barriers creating a little village around them – and of course, back in Nairobi, the overcrowding and pollution is inescapable. It was a good breather, and a chance to mentally re-load, but we were so excited to get back home to the kids Monday afternoon.

Being back, this has been my second week helping “Auntie Joyce” at the nursery school. She teaches about 25 two, three, and four-year-olds from IAA and the surrounding villages in a dirt floor tent that’s set up at the end of the soccer field that’s here on site. I have so much respect for what she does!

The kids start school at 8:30, and after repetition of words, the alphabet, or flashcards, there’s time for “writing” before their chai tea break. All of the toddlers are at completely different learning levels. Many of them barely understand any English and speak even less, and while some can pretty accurately write out the alphabet or numbers from one to one hundred, others sit and struggle with drawing the letter “A”. Of course, teaching and communicating is much easier when you speak the same language as the student, but with lots of trial and error, I can’t explain the feeling of success when one of them pulls through!

This morning, I headed down to the nursery around 10, hoping to be of some help, and it turned out that Joyce was getting ready to head out with the big kids to their performance in a nearby city for African Children’s Day. She asked if I’d be able to stay with the kids, and after my “of course!” I made a quick dash for backup. Sara and Kristin joined me shortly after and we tried to lead the kids through words and vocab, the alphabet song (much cuter Kenyan style), and some writing. After chai, we broke out a giant coloring book and faced some exciting challenges being a few pages short. By the kids’ lunch time at one, we were all exhausted and trying desperately to keep them under control while breaking up disputes, drying tears, and “teaching”, though its debatable whether they actually learned much other than that when the muzungus (white people) are the ones doing the teaching, there isn’t much order!

We found ourselves making lots of use of the words “kuja happa” (come here), “hapana” (no), and “keti” (sit). After lunch the kids living at IAA had their naps and we headed back out to the field to have the village kids do the same. We rounded them up in the church, and with determined “wee wee, lala!” (you, sleep!), we attempted to get them to nap but definitely didn’t do a very successful job. Sara went to ask if the children were to head home at three or three-thirty, and Daniel told her, “the language is very difficult and the children are tired – let them go free!” Only two of the kids had fallen asleep.

Well, regardless of whether or not they were tired – I know I was exhausted. I find myself praying for patience throughout the day, especially when orders to “make a line” or “be nice” only result in the kids repeating what you say, having no clue what it means. I feel like they’re teaching me a lot more about myself than they’re probably learning about the English language, but hey… maybe that’s a good thing.

Things have been a little thrown off with the medical team around; the toddlers don’t have school since their “classroom” tent is being used as an exam room and there are suddenly an extra twenty mouths to feed. Yesterday I began giving the toddlers a tour of all the excitement going on throughout the site in hopes that their curiosity would be eased a bit and they might be less inclined to run out of the house and into the makeshift medical ward unaccompanied. But since Mum Jane was busy taking baby Hope through the medical exam herself, I went off to watch babies Jacob and Joy for a bit. They must be somewhere near the cutest things on the planet.

Joy’s gotten to the stage of repeating everything she hears, in her own version of Swahili/baby talk, of course. She’s constantly moving around and if you don’t keep an eye on her, she’ll sneak her way around the living room’s couch barrier and dash for the kitchen or the door.

Jacob has a smile that makes me melt, and it’s always accompanied by a nearly constant stream of drool dripping from his lip. He’s not quite talking yet, but he loves to imitate Mum Jane singing “Aaaaaamen!” Even more than Joy, Jacob’s constantly on the move. He can’t seem to sit still ever! I was just being told the other day how he, now about 15 months, arrived at IAA at only 2 pounds.

Hope is the youngest of the babies, they think she’s just over a year – but like Jacob, she was tiny when she arrived and she’s still so small for her age. She’s much more quiet than the other two, and she hasn’t quite gotten the hang of walking, but it definitely won’t be long!

In the evening I helped Terrecia and Johnny with some math homework before bed time. The big kids coming home is definitely one of the highlights of my day. Don’t get me wrong, I LOVE the babies and toddlers, but the older company definitely helps to keep my sanity, even if it does mean revisiting my junior high math days.

Today we made another visit to the market, and it was exhausting. (Bartering isn’t always as easy as it sounds!) And as fun as it was, I was relieved to make it home to the kids. Not long after dinner, I had just gotten into a card game with the girls when the power went out (not an uncommon occurrence here). There was plenty of screaming, tackling , and pillow throwing. George finally found a flashlight and it didn’t take long before he and a few others huddled around and helped Lucy finish her homework. As cute as it was, it didn’t last for too long and the playing in the dark continued.

By the time the lights came back on and we were getting the toddlers ready for bed, everyone seemed exhausted and most of them were in tears. But it was a fun night, and something a bit out of the ordinary. The kids didn’t have as much homework as usual (of course, they still do have school tomorrow…) and playing is always more fun than homework – duh.

Arrival at last

I really don’t think the reality of my trip hit me before I got on the plane in Heathrow, headed towards Nairobi. I had first heard about Into Abbas Arms (IAA) from my friend Sara Crabtree. She explained how she’d heard of IAA through her church and made her first trip to the orphanage last summer, and I knew that I had to try to make a trip of my own to meet all the kids who live here.

I was blessed more than I’d ever imagined was possible, and the trip fell into place rather smoothly. With the help of a great deal of friends and family, on June second, I found myself on the long journey to Into Abbas Arms orphanage in Kinangop, Kenya. Leaving LAX early Wednesday morning, I touched ground in Nairobi at 9p.m. Thursday night. I’d met up with Sara (who is here making her second visit to the orphanage) and our friend Kristen Klein, and the three of us were picked up by Alex and Christine who took us to the Mayfield missionary hotel there in the city.

Early the next morning, we headed towards the orphanage. Upon our arrival, all the toddlers came to greet us, as well as three other girls who are here volunteering as well. The place was a bit of a mad house that night. When the older kids got home from school that evening, everyone was so excited with all the new people, but we did manage to get to bed early (a welcome relief as jetlag was setting in).

Now, a week after my departure, I’m thrilled to be getting to know all the kids and the amazing women and men who work here on the orphanage, giving all they can to be a blessing in these kids’ lives. There are just over 20 kids who live here, with more who are away at boarding school. The kids living on site include three babies: Jacob, Hope, and Joy, as well as a group of several loud toddlers and a bunch more who are in elementary school. Once the kids have reached sixth grade, they’re sent to boarding school until their month-long “offs”. Fortunately, we were able to meet most of the boarders this past weekend when they came for a special visit.

Due to the special weekend visit, no one had school on Saturday. Generally, the toddlers have the day off and the older kids have class until one. (I can’t believe it; the elementary kids go from 8 in the morning until 5 at night, and the toddlers have school from about 8:30 until around 2. Talk about long days.) But since everyone had the day off, we spent the afternoon playing outside.

There’s a church on site, and on Sunday a host of village kids came for a couple hours of energetic singing, learning about scripture, and giving testimonies. I’ve never seen such excitement about God. That afternoon, I spent lots of time with baby Jacob, and Jeremy – another visitor to the site – started up a soccer game with all the kids who’d come for church. (I had a good time getting showed up by kids half my height.) Then, for dinner on Sunday night I had some goat, ugali, and greens with the kids – and after some story telling and drawing with the girls it was time for the end to a very good, long day.

The last few days have involved lots of helping out at the nursery school, entertaining the babies, dishes, homework help, and a trip to the Masai market in Nairobi. The city was insane – I’ve never seen such bad traffic. And combined with roundabouts, road laws which are a lot more like “suggestions”, and way too many pedestrians, it was a little nerve racking to drive through. But after a long day of bartering it was a big relief to come back and see the kids.

Today, a medical team from Houston arrived to set up at the site. They’re commuting from Nairobi for the next few days to provide services for whoever in the surrounding areas decides to show up, so it’ll be interesting to see how that goes.

Overall, my time here in Kenya has been incredible thus far. I love being with the kids I’m growing to love so much, and really, I couldn’t be any more blessed.