A Hamomi Halloween

This Saturday we celebrated Hamomi’s 2^nd annual Halloween. It has become a beloved yet little understood holiday for the students and teachers here. Last year Jamie and Susie, the directors of Hamomi’s USA board based in Seattle, introduced the day and since it was such a great success, we continued the tradition. We spent this week brainstorming how we could explain and celebrate this pumpkin carving, trick-or-treating, fest of goblins and ghouls to Hamomi, without it being a mess of candy wrappers, pumpkin guts, and 135 sugar -high students. At first we thought about buying a pumpkin for each class to carve and decorate. However, after thinking it through and pricing out pumpkins, we concluded this was not the best option, nor was it in the budget. Trying to organize 12 to 18 students carving a single pumpkin would not have been a success by any meaning of the word. Not to mention, the undersized, whitish gourds they call pumpkins here, go for an outrageous 400-600 shillings. So back to the drawing board it was.

Another bright idea we had was for us to dress up in costumes and then do some trick-or-treating with the students. After quickly thinking this through we determined that maybe we’d attract even more unwanted attention on our walk through the Kawangware slum and into the Kangemi slum dressed as superheroes, animals, or the headless horseman. Also, knocking on peoples doors with 100 plus students, each demanding sweets would more than likely be seen as rude in the Kenyan culture and could possible tatter Homomi’s stellar reputation with its neighbors. Scratch that idea… Crazy Muzungu and their holidays.

So we settled on an idea brought originally to Hamomi by the first Halloween facilitators, Jamie and Susie. Decorating masks it is! Laurel and Val (a French volunteer from Venezuela) spent the next two full days cutting eye and mouth holes out of 150 paper plates. I offered the services of my Swiss army knife and found myself the more fun and less blister filled job of decorating a few sample masks for the students to see.

The day of was really fun. We circled up each grade on the Hamomi field and gave them paints, crayons, markers, colored pencils, feathers, water colors, construction paper, glitter and any other decorative material we could scrounge and the mask making commenced. I’m not so sure there were many superheroes or animals created, but many more colorful, nameless creatures began to take shape. I was really impressed, especially with the 1^st and 2^nd graders painting skills, although a few masks did end up that brownish-green color that mixing all the watercolors together makes.

At one point, Edwin, Hamomi’s English teacher, insisted I paint his face like a cat. After this I had a crowd of no less than four dozen students chanting “Cha, Cha Cha me next!!!” After about an hour of face-painting, the volunteers all grabbed the candy we’d brought and each group of went to a different classroom. Laurel and I began passing out candy from the baby-classroom and made each student say “trick-or-treat” before we gave them their sweet. Most of younger kids (who are just beginning to learn English) really tried to say what we wanted in order to get a treat. They came out with such things as “tick-and-tweet” or “sick-or-sweet” some just stared blankly until we gave them their candy. However, there was particular first grader who was quite insistent that, while he wasn’t quite sure what a “trick” was, he absolutely did not want one rather than his sweet! We passed out sweets to each student, teacher, and even a few of the other neighborhood children who couldn’t help showing up right around candy time.

All in all, Halloween was a great success! I hope you all enjoy the pictures.

Here's the link for the photo album:

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=3098769&id=13956382&l=67178a85d6

-Eric

HELL's Gate National Park

After a month in Kenya, we decided it was time to get out of Nairobi and explore a different part of the country. Since we didn't want to be gone for more than a weekend, we decided to do an overnight in Lake Naivasha, about an hour north of Nairobi. We planned a couple of touristy excursions and off we went.  The trip there was very pleasant, and we were in high spirits as we approached the beautiful lake. As we headed towards our first destination, Hell's Gate, it started raining, pretty intensely, and we began to wonder if it was a good idea to try to do the park amidst this weather. While  I thought we had agreed to skip it for the day and go straight to the campsite we planned to stay the night at, I found myself following Eric's lead and alighting at Hell's Gate turn off, wondering why we decided to leave a nice, dry ride for the torrential rain that began to pour. We walked about 50 meters down the 2 kilometer road to the entrance before finding shelter under a tree to get our raingear out of our bags. Why Eric had us get off the matatu in the first place is beyond me, and you'll see at the conlusion of the story why, after this weekend, Eric has been relieved of any decision making in this relationship, ever. 

Going back to where we left the matatu, we waited in the downpour for a good ten minutes before another matatu picked us up and took us to where we wanted to stay. At this point, it had stopped raining-- rain comes and goes like lightning here-- but we were thoroughly soaked and discouraged about venturing out anymore that day. Upon arrival at the camp, one that is highly recommended by our Lonely Planet book, we were unfortunately surpised at the cost of the place, which was at least three times what we expected it to be. We must say that while we love our guide book and all of the information it has provided us with, we are sorely dissapointed with the innacurate reporting of the pricing. This was not the first time we have gone into a siutation here with a budget planned according to the book, and then, realizing the book's error, have had to rearrange our budget. I must say that we haven't ever been in a bad position where we couldn't pay for something, it's just the unexpected element of surpise and hit to our pre arranged budget that takes us back. But, enough about that. We ended staying at a great place right on the lake with monkeys to entertain us and an electric security fence around the lake, as it is common for hippos to come up to shore at night to graze. After a relaxing afternoon, good dinner, and a couple rounds of scrabble, we retired for the night, even more eager to start our adventure at Hell's Gate the following morning.

A disclaimer is in order before the tale of Hells Gate can commence: I am not an in-shape person. I do not have any endurance whatsoever and find myself panting for air over fairly small physical activity. I know this about myself and readily admit it to anyone who is unfortunate to extend an invitation my way for anything physically challenging. However, I often find myself tricking me into accepting such invvitations, giving myself way more credit than is due. This lands me in a world of hurt, when about two minutes after said physical activity gets underway, I am on the sidelines panting for air, wondering what on earth I got myself into.

 This park is unique in that they encourage visitors to walk or bike through the park, getting up close and personal with the wildlife that resides there. The excitement of the possibility of standing right underneath a giraffe was too good for me and Eric to pass up, so we decided to embark on our safari atop questionable bicycles we hired from the side of the road, 2 kilometers from the gate of the park. The going was easy, for the first 500 meters. I  quickly remembered my lack of preparedness for this trip, but pushed it aside with the promise that being a short distance from wild zebras and warthogs would be well worth it. After we paid-- once again more than expected-- at the entrance, we were off ,and were greeted with a beautiful blue sky and beautiful cliffs on either side of us. Not too hot, good breeze, a perfect leisurely ride was on the horizon. Or so I thought. Our excitement continued to swell as we spotted gazelles and zebra very soon into our trip. Stopping to take pictures, grab some water, and marvel in the greatness that was the natural landscape before us, we were elated. The first 5km went by in a flash and we were faced with the decision to continue another two kilometers to a rangers post for a picnic, then turn back, or take a route marked "Buffalo Circuit", a 14 km trail that seemed to go around the eastern part of the park. Having time on our side, and Eric making the decisions, we (He) decided we should take the longer route. So, off we went, in search of more wildlife and to continue our wonderful Sunday morning. 

Fast forward two minutes, we are faced with a mother of a hill, one that was impossible to bike up, so we dismounted and pushed onwards and upwards. As fatigue set in, I was doing just fine with the thought of summiting the hill, telling myself to set my eyes on the prize and just focus on getting to the top. Well, sad to say,  after the first summit greeted us with another base of a hill similar to previous, after fifteen of these, my eyes were no longer set on "the prize", and instead were focused on staying upright. I can honestly report that I truly truly did try to suppress the mounting frustration towards my fearless leader, however, having been misled on treks far simpler than this one, I couldn't help but feel the steam coming out of my ears-- and it wasn't due to the beating sun and rising elevation! As Eric trudged forward, looking back every so often, telling me to stop stopping, I not so politely informed him that he had ruined our lesireuly ride and further misstepped by taking us up a route that proved to have no more wildlife than it did scenery. It was a heavy covered trail with bushes in every direction, providing little to look at but the massive incline before us. By this point, my legs are jelly, my lungs are barely functioning, and I'm literally gasping for air and trying with everything in me not to burst into tears ( at this point, if you think I'm overreacting, re-read the disclaimer. I am NOT an athletic person). Not to say that I don't enjoy physical activity. I actually thoroughly enjoy the idea of something physically taxing and further enjoy the thought of how beneifical it will be fore me. However, it's once I begin to engage in said physical activity that my body decides to give me the rude awakening of how much I've neglected to adequately prepare it for such a feat. On top of the borderline tears, nonfunctioning legs, and failing lungs I began to play mind games with myself, cursing me for not being able to get up a simple hill. I told myself how foolish I've been for not exercising more, yada yada yada.... I was in rough shape. At this point, in hindsight, I must give Eric tremendous credit for not leaving me back on the trail and continuing the journey solo. I can't say I would've done the same. He even helped me push my bike a couple times- albeit for a very short distance, because, well, I do have some pride.

At one point in our treacherous trek, I looked up to see Eric put his arms up in triumph and thought, " Oh my god, we've made it, nothing but downhill bliss awaits". WRONG. Eric was merely celebrating the fact that we were halfway, which was 7.7 km into the circuit, which once again let me emphasize, was COMPLETELY UPHILL. Whether Eric was just excited to be halfway or tremendously relieved that he has actually guided us on the right path ( which I may or may not have doubted out loud several times), he was in high spirits. I, on the other hand, could not join him in celebration, as I looked ahead, which only presented MORE uphill trail. I swear, I thought this trail would never end. We stopped for a ten minute lunch of PBJ and cookies, and looked at the map to see where we were in this godforsaken park. It was at this point that we noticed an interesting arrow on the map, directing visitors on the way to follow if they decided to take the Buffalo Circuit Road. No surprise there, WE HAD GONE THE WRONG WAY. I must admit, this provided a certain amount of consolation, knowing that the average visitor isn't supposed to be able to do this route and that had we gone the other way, most of what we had battled would've been much more leisurely, given we'd be going downhill the entire way with a very slight, gradual incline on the way up. I was furious at this oversight, but there was not point in turning around now-- or so Eric insisted.

Nevertheless, the afternoon was quickly approaching, and we wanted to be back into town early enough to catch a matatu back to Nairobi before dark. Having fueled up on energy, we continued to the top of the ridge that we had been following, and the going proved to be just as slow as it was before our pit stop. FINALLY. We reached the top. A wave of relief was quickly subdued as we examined the road before us, inches and inches of fine powder dirt, making a good coast down impossible, forcing us to continue our walk with our bikes, downhill. To add insult to injury, I was aghast to feel precipitation start to hit my arms, the only part of my body I could still actually feel. It truly felt like we were the victims of a cruel joke.  Luckily, the powder dirt was short lived, and soon we were back on our bikes cruising down the mountain, trying to beat the rain while taking in the view of the lake and the abundance of zebras and gazelles the second half of this route had waiting for us. We even saw two giraffe in the far far distance, which totally counts in our animal tally for the day. My spirits were about a million times higher than they were the first half of this trip and knew that overall, we had a successful day. I humbly apologized to Eric for being such a wimp the first half of the route and he was gracious enough to shrug it off, as after all, it was his idea to go that way. The last several kilometers of the ride found us laughing at the ridiculousness that was that route and wondering why on earth they don't warn you about that route ( because, obviously, that arrow on the map is not sufficient!) Completing our 25 kilometer trek in just over 3 hours added the extra encouraging boost we both needed and we rode out of the park feeling very proud of ourselves and concluding it was, for the most part, worth it.  As we rode out of the park, I stopped at the entrance to take a picture of the sign, Hell's Gate-- a name has never been so fitting!             

Laurel

Weekday Routine

We can hardly believe we’ve been here almost a month and are constantly shocked at how fast the weeks are flying by, especially this past one. Having developed a weekday routine, we thought it would be good to explain just how we are spending our days here.

 A normal weekday find my alarm going off at 6:22. Whether that’s the actual time I roll out of bed or not is another question. Straggling out of bed, usually about 20 minutes later than my original intention, first priority is to shower and purify water. Thanks to the steripen, it only takes four and a half minutes to prepare three liters of water.

Next is breakfast. Or, more accurately, chai. While the menu differs from day to day, the two things that are always present are chai and bread. Sometimes this is the only thing offered, however, other days we are served fruit, bananas or Laurel’s not so favorite, papaya, which I always end up eating when the househelp and Alice have their backs turned. Note: It is also not my favorite, but I do my best to  keep our relationship running smoothly, whatever the cost may be. However, every morning I wake up craving samosas, the most amazing snack on the face of the earth, and go out to breakfast hoping that they awaits me. This meat filled deep fried deliciousness is unfortunately only on the menu about once a week. Another breakfast we do our best to choke ( read I do my best to choke down two portions) are Kenyan sausages. It’s not that they taste bad, or that the texture is off putting, it’s more that they remind us of our walk to Hamomi and bring back memories of the plastic burning, slum smoke taste that leaves much to be desired. But, enough about breakfast.

Leaving the house around 7:15 to 7:30 depending on how late I’m running, we make our way to Hamomi through Kawangware up to Kangemi, which is always an exciting explosion of senses, and the ever present burning plastic/Kenyan sausage smell.

We usually make it to Hamomi a little past 8  and as we approach, running down the street to greet us is 2-year old Godi and 3-year old Sammi. The two sons of Janet, the school’s cook, who is wife to one of the teachers, are the chubby cheeked face of Hamomi to any visitor that comes. More on them later. We then greet all of the teachers with the customary handshake and a “habari yako” or the less formal “Sasa”.

Computer classes begin at 8:30, with each of us taking a student for a twenty minute lesson. Currently, we have covered typing all of the letters, and next week we will be covering other functions of Microsoft Word, such as saving and retrieving documents, and other functions on the toolbar. The progress the 28 students we tutor have made over the last few weeks, with only having two lessons a week, is quite impressive.

Godi, being in his terrible twos, and with little else to do throughout the day, really enjoys computer class. He has also learned how to type, aka banging his fists on the keyboard as the other students are trying to practice. We immediately scold him, Laurel in Swahili, which is greeted with laughter that this mzungu is yelling at him in his local tongue. Needless to say, we expect his return in less than 10 minutes.

We fill the morning before tea break with 10 lessons, and have spent many of our tea breaks sipping chai while mending clothes. Yes, Laurel now knows how to mend clothes, something I plan on exploiting in the upcoming years. However, this is starting to seem like a never ending battle, as we have already seen the same tears in the same uniforms, which is not a testament to our shoddy workmanship, but rather the poor quality material we have to work with. But, we do what we can with what we have, as do they.

After tea break, it is back to more computer lessons, except for on Tuesdays and Wednesdays, which is when we do the journal class, referenced in Laurel’s blog post.

Lunch is from 12:35 to 2:00. This gives us time to eat lunch, beans and rice, everyday, and play with the students. After we eat, I usually go down to the field to play some sort of sports with some of the students. While football (soccer) is the standby sport, I’ve also taught them baseball, handball, and ultimate Frisbee. This is usually the time I get dirty. Really dirty. Meanwhile, Laurel jumps rope with the younger girls and spectates with the other students who aren’t playing. Our day usually ends around 2:30 or 3, when all the kids go back to class for more formal instruction. There is little for us to do at this point, so we use the rest of the daylight to learn our way around the area, prepare for the next day, and use internet when we can to do planning and to keep up with emails. We’ve been able to help with various projects as well, including measuring all of the 135 students’ feet, to get an idea of sizes needed for new shoes that are being donated. We also attend the board meetings, held just about bi-weekly, where Laurel is the secretary and takes meeting notes, to then be sent to the American Board.

The rest of the evening is spent relaxing with our host family while watching English dubbed telenovelas, Spanish soap operas, which we guiltily admit we’ve gotten hooked on. We are always surprised at how tired we are at the end of the day, so bed time is usually at 9. Kind of pathetic, since that hasn’t been the case since elementary school, but there is little to be done once the sun goes down that doesn’t require taxi fare and a pub.

I hope this has given you all a bit more insight into how we spend our days and the work we’re doing at Hamomi. 

Eric

Poetry at Hamomi

I feel it is long overdue for me to give credit to all of the English teachers I've had over the years who have guided me throughout my academic career. Teaching this subject truly is not an easy task and I never realized just how tricky it can be until we started a poetry class with the students at Hamomi.

To provide some background, the volunteers that were here for a week the first week we got here provided the students in Class 5-8 with their own journals, a space for them to write, draw, do anything that helped express their creative side-- a component in the Kenyan curriculum that is lacking. Eric and I thought it would be fun to continue the journal classes by teaching them basic poetry, expanding their creative side and perhaps opening a window for future poets to emerge. Boy, were we in for a treat.

 We pretty successfully guided them through Haikus, although it took time to explain to them that while their three lines may all have the correct number of syllables, they must be about one topic. One sentence about food being good, and the next about your mother's name is Mary, with the conclusion about hens laying eggs doesn't quite work. And yes, that was an actual example. But, after a lot of practice, lots of clapping out syllables, and countless examples, the students had it down.

So feeling confident in our poetry teaching abilities, we decided the next step would be to teach them the basic structure of the rhyming poem. Simple enough, right? WRONG. In coming up with our lesson plans to teach basic rhyming, we neglected to take into account something that would ultimately be the downfall of our experiment: the Kenyan accent. While I pride myself in speaking "correct" English with the "correct" accent, Kenyans speak what they call " the queen's English", or some sort of variation of that. We thought rhyming would be straight forward,  with the basic rule that the words must sound the same to be considered a rhyme. Well, when I say car, and they say ca, that creates quite the disconnect between what  I consider rhyming that what they do.  This brings us to one of the class periods, where we put a word on the board and had them give us other words that rhyme with it. I'll use the example of sun for this blog. although there are many many examples I could use, this one is the best for conveying my point.

The word is sun. Students excitedly wave their hands yelling "cha cha, me cha me cha" ( cha, short for teacha--teacher) and snapping in your direction to get your attention-- yes, snapping. I can only imagine the world of hurt an American student would be in if they snapped in their teacher's face to get noticed. But, back to class. As we call on the first few students, we are encouraged that they may actually be getting this rhyming thing down. We've added words like done, run, and the other son to our list. Then one student says, "bun", but not bun like the hamburger, bun as is "burn"-- what you don't want to happen to the meat. Eric and I exchange a worried glance, as they aren't completely wrong. The way they say it is correct, however, we explain, you must look at the way it's spelled and how it sounds matched up against the word sun. Yet, we find this contradictory, as we've tried to enforce upon them the idea that words don't need to be spelled the same to sound the same ( reference done and sun). Let's try another one. We're given can. Sigh. Oh boy.

Let’s try School. We're given drool, cool, fool, pretty good. Fuel.... Hm. Eric and I differed, as I think they could be used to rhyme, for all intensive purposes, but Eric says they are two different rhymes ( fuel rhymes with mule, and mule does not rhyme with school). So, we let is slide and it is added to the list. Then, we’re given full. Full clearly does not rhyme with school, however, the way they say school-- schull, and full-- sounds almost identical. Bigger sigh. What have we gotten ourselves into. I don't know who is more confused at this point, the students who don't understand why the words the way they say them don't count or us as we try to further explain that how they are spelled and pronounced must be taken into consideration. i think we were way out of our league with this one.

Some more rhyme suggestions from the students:  lap and pat, me and meat, ate and meat. no, no, no. After having five lists of words that rhyme, we encourage them to try to use two of the word from a list to create a couplet. We spit out examples like, "  I was late arriving at the gate" and " I cry when I hear a lie" or " the morning light was oh so bright". Charged with ample explanation, we waited a few minutes as the students hurriedly scratched out sentences.

Now comes the next entertaining part of being a teacher at Hamomi, aside from the snapping and cha hollering. While the students are almost always exceptionally behaved, when it comes time for you to check their books, all bets are off. Ten of them shove their books in your hands, one piling up on top of the other. They shove each other out of the way, interrupt the one you're currently reading, all trying to be the next one to be read. Oh, this is also accompanied with the " cha" chant. It's really quite amusing. I looked at the first few and wondered where we went wrong. Here are some examples:

" Me and my friends sat under a tree"-- While Me and Tree rhyme, I tried to explain, the word me should be at the end of the first sentence, so that it lines up with tree.

" The sun was bright. I went through the gate"-- This student took one word from two different lists, however, I told her, you must pick two words from the same list to make a rhyme. One word from each list doesn't work.

" I like to play, the hen lays eggs". SIGHHHHHHHH.

I must stop here to say that I was not frustrated with the students, but rather with my less than clear explanation on the structure of the couplets. I truly don't know how else we could've made it more clear. We gave so many examples, went through numerous pieces of chalk writing different rhymes on the board, underlining the words, making lists, we felt like we exhausted all of our energy and still weren't getting through.

At this point, we are encouraged that some of the students have managed to grasp the concept of rhyming, class 7 and 8 more so than 5/6, but we have not given up hope. We plan to do more exercises with fill in the blank poems and bring in poems in Swahili ( thanks to the suggestion from our friend Brian, as all Swahili words are pronounced just like they are spelled). We will continue with rhyming until the students get it down or become severely uninterested in the topic, at which point we'll switch gears. I have a feeling as to which one will come first, but we'll keep our fingers crossed.

Laurel

Just a Couple Pictures

 Eric and the very first Hamomi baseball game.

 Eric teaching class 7 and 8 poetry, yep, that's right, poetry.

 Laurel doing a rhyming exercise with the students.

Eric teaching basic typing skills.

Hamomi Soccer Match

This will undoubtedly be one of the few joint blogs we do together, however, such an experience warranted a collaboration.

Earlier this week, the teachers and students were excited to include us in their Friday soccer match against a school in the neighboring slum, Kawangware. The match was to be a "home" game, held on Friday morning before their 10 o clock tea break. We eagerly accepted the invitation and looked forward to it for the majority of the week. Thursday afternoon, they told us we could at our normal time the next day, 8 o clock, and that we would go directly to the pitch following their weekly religious learning, class. Upon our arrival at Hamomi Friday morning, we were informed that the match would actually not be until 2 pm, so we would do our normal routine of computer instruction, have an early lunch, and leave for the pitch at 1. As 1 o clock arrived, there was no sign that we were going anywhere fast. while we ate lunch quickly, the rest of the school proceeded at the standard Kenyan pace. finally at 20 after, the teachers began to line up the players, and the other 60 kids that would make up Hamomi's cheerleading squad. After a few words from Musumba, the Director, and Edwin, one of the teachers, we were off to the top of a "nearby" hill for the match. Before departure, Edwin instructed the students to take special care of the visitors-- us- and to make sure that no one touched us on our journey. The students took this command very seriously and each of us has bodyguard protection three kids deep in the front and the rear, plus at least two kids on each arm.

As we continued further and further away from Hamomi, we were certain the pitch must be just around the next corner. Much to our dismay, every turn we made greeted us with the next leg of the trek. No less than 30 minutes into our hike, numerous inquiries about our ETA were answered with " it's not much further". Finally, we reached a highway, and were slightly dumbfounded that the next part of our journey consisted of crossing a six lane road with no speed limit with no less then 60 kids. After a successful crossing, it seemed as if we had exited the slum and entered farmland, and were still no closer to our destination. The hike continued, with two dam crossings, a half mile stretch of rural roads, until we ended up at a farm, complete with horses and dozens of fenced in cows. as we climbed through two cut barbed wire fences, Moses turned to us and said, " we have arrived". Not knowing whether to laugh over the supposed field or cry over our aching legs and sweaty backs, we followed the students as they ran across the makeshift "field" to set up camp. The time is now 2:20. The game was scheduled at 2. However, it would prove to be quite the challenge to start the game at this time, seeing as the other team wasn't present. We were informed that our coach had gone to fetch them, so we settled in to wait under the shade. Our hour travel to the home field begged the question, "So, if this is a home match, then how far are the away games?" I think the students were quite amused.

Hamomi's players warmed up and stretched, and we decided to take a quick nap on the side of the pitch. The next time we looked at the clock, it was 3:15, and there was still no sign of the other team. Getting anxious about the looming nightfall, and the marathon of a hike required to get us home, we were much relieved when a herd of orange uniforms made their way onto the opposite sideline. We checked in with the Coach, who told us the girls would be playing for 20 minutes, and the boys would follow with a 60 minute match. While this made our arrival at home dangerously close to sunset, we decided to relax as much as possible, and enjoy the games. the girls finally got underway at 3:45. While our girls did their best, the other team's teacher was the standout player, making the sole goal for the other team and sealing their victory. why she was allowed to play remains a mystery. After the scored goal, some of the other players seemed uninterested in the rest of the match, and decided to save their energy by laying down on the field during the game. the players from both teams seemed as relieved as we were when the final whistle signaled the end of the match. Fortunately, the boys game was taken much more seriously.

Donned in lime green uniforms, that were passed off from the girls to the boys, our Hamomi players took the field ready for battle. This was a significant match for standard 8, as it would be their last as Hamomi students. our boys were quite impressive in their ball handling skills, considering they have little practice and a poor excuse for a practice field, given they use the Hamomi hill, referenced in Eric's baseball blog. As the match got underway, it was clear we were a cut above the other team, not to mention each of our players had at least 6 inches on their opposition, with the exception of Sabastian, who more than made up for the height difference with his excellent footwork and impressive speed. One of the highlights of the game was our first goal, not so much because of an impressive shot, but more so because of the reaction of Hamomi's supporters. As soon as the ball went through the goal posts, teachers and students alike burst out into rhythmic song and dance, led by the oldest students and teachers, banging on water jugs with sticks. One group of students even decided to do a victory lap, or several, maintaining the cheer for a number of minutes as the game continued. The second goal was even more chaotic in celebration, as no less than five teacher rushed the field, followed by dozens of students following their lead. It took a few minutes to clear the field so the game could resume.

Halftime was yet another interesting experience as the players were fed the Kenyan version of Gatorade and orange slices, i.e. handfuls of pure glucose, while they strategized, with the rest of the school huddled around them. The sugar seemed to work as we dominated play the second half, as the other team only managed one shot on our goalkeeper, which was quickly and effortlessly scooped up.

As exciting as the game was, we were becoming increasingly nervous in anticipation of our estimated hour and forty minute walk home through the slum, at sunset. It is common knowledge that wazungu should not be out after dark, much less in some of the most notorious parts of the city. it gets completely dark at 7. the time was 5:15. knowing how Kenyans heed time, we were trying our best to keep calm as the inevitability of us walking at night drew nearer. when the final whistle blew, more celebration erupted at our 3 nil victory. Our top priority of getting home seemed to be hindered by the slow pace Hamomi was taking in wrappimg things up. We were relieved when a group of students along with one of the teachers headed back to Hamomi. it was 5:30 when we exited the pitch.

Luckily our daily exercise routine of walking everywhere served us well, as we quickened our pace and booked it towards home, only stopping a couple times to make sure we had someone who knew the route. It was clear and unsettling as all eyes were directed on us at this time of night, even more so than they are during the day. Having reached Hamomi in record time, we now faced the most difficult part of our journey, the walk home without any local escort. We took a deep breath and confidently and swiftly booked it through the main congested street of Kawangware. As busy as it is during the day pales in comparison to the amount of people out at this time. It was clear we were moving in the opposite direction of most traffic, as people usually leave the slum in the morning for work and return at night. We were doing the exact opposite. We cringed every time a group of children excitedly shouted "Mzungu Mzungu", announcing our presence to the greater slum area. We completed the major part of our journey and turned onto Amboseli Road, officially out of the slum and only a short distance from home as it turned to dusk. At this point, we were somewhat relieved, as our skin color doesn't look that much different in that light. We reached our gate, panting for air, and agonizing over our sore joints and looked at the clock. It was 6:45. Once we were safely inside, we were proud to have shaved 15 minutes off of our travel time and were more than ready to turn in for the night.

Recounting the days events brought fits of laughter and the conclusion that it was well worth it.