One year ago today, I found myself walking towards Hamomi, with no idea of what the next three weeks, and subsequent year would bring my way. I had barely put my suitcase down after my return trip to Nairobi from Embu, where I abandoned my lackluster internship, when I got the call from Hannah, a volunteer at Hamomi giving me directions to the school. I was unfamiliar with the area, but confident in my navigation skills, and very comfortable with maneuvering around town, so I headed out, with high hopes and realistic expectations. Having been directed to make sure I took a specific route, I did so, and was soon underway, slightly tapping my foot along to the deafening beat that was booming from the matatu sub woofer. Soon, I began to notice that we had exchanged a paved road for a dirt one, and the multi level apartment buildings for tin shacks, and knew we must be getting close. But, as I waited for the matatu to turn as Hannah mentioned, I got increasingly nervous as we headed straight, and knew I was about to be lost. I was even more panicked when the matatu stopped, emptied, and turned around. Having no other choice, I followed the crowd and found my self standing in the middle of Kawanware, unbeknownst to me, without the slightest idea of where to even begin. Now, I had walked through Kibera, the notorious slum of Nairobi, a few times, but every time had been with a group of people and a working knowledge of the nearest route out. I knew it was better not to panic and look lost, so I instinctively started walking back the way I came. With Hannah on the phone, I begged for directions, all the while trying not to talk too loudly and alert the gawking bystanders of my vulnerable situation. I came to an intersection and decided to turn the way I thought the matatu should have, hoping, praying, pleading that it was the right way. As I walked deeper and deeper into the slum, I was trying to look straight ahead while at the same time to take everything in. The noise coming from the competing stereos of the various stalls selling a mixture of vegetables, second hand clothes, and other random electronic parts. I breathed a sigh of relief as a white girl about my age walked towards me as I pointed out the obvious, “ You’re Hannah, right?”, to which she replied, “Well, who else would I be?”. Duh.
We spent the walk chatting about this and that and learning about each others backgrounds, but I honestly couldn’t tell you anything about that conversation today. I remember being slightly envious of Hannah, as she walked with confidence down the street, while I followed behind, with my bag in a death grip. As the walk continued, I also couldn’t help but notice how long it took to get there and wondered how I was ever going to find my own route there. We passed a nice big school, and as I got into my walking legs, we stopped abruptly at a tin wall, and she directed me in. We had arrived. I couldn’t have been more pleased, as I was secretly hoping for nothing more than tin shacks to work in. It was completely opposite of where I had come from, a beautiful, mahogany finished USAID office with wireless, and with no purpose for me. Hamomi was quite honestly, exactly what you would expect out of an internship in a slum of Africa. And I was delighted! I remember meeting Musumba and Raphael, and being particularly nervous as I explained to them what I was looking to get out of my time there, trying to sound very professional, as if I was on a job interview. “So, what do you want to do here?” The question caught me off guard, as I was expecting to be put to use filling in whatever holes they had, But, Hamomi isn’t like that. They wanted me to do what I thought would be best to contribute to the school. Fumbling over words and assuring them I could do anything, I happened to mention that I had a mini computer with me and was pretty tech savvy ( although I know I didn’t use that terminology), and pretty soon it was decided that I would be the resident computer teacher. As Hannah gave me a tour around, I remember walking into every classroom and being greeted with a standing audience respectfully greeting me and very excited to have me. I couldn’t tell you if I stayed for lunch that day, or if I even taught any classes, although I remember sitting in on an English class and marking student’s papers when they were finished with their assignment. It was a lot to take in, and to be honest, I didn’t know what to make of everything, except to conclude that I had made a very good decision in going there.
It’s hard for me to comprehend that I only spent three weeks there, because I feel like I was able to get quite a bit done and made such a connection with a few of the students, it feels like it had to have been longer. Looking back, I remember being so proud of the work I was doing and was only too happy to boast to others where I worked and what I did. It was so empowering to be a student interning at such an inspiring organization that gave me the freedom to contribute where I thought I could. I felt so valued. Who knew that a 10-inch computer and a working knowledge of it would lead me back here one year later? Who knew that I’d be able to not only introduce the internet to Hamomi students for the very first time, but would be able to equip them with email addresses that allowed me to keep in touch with them after I was gone? Who knew? I sure didn’t. For me, Hamomi started out as a way to get out of Embu and my assigned internship while still completing the requirements for my study abroad course. What it turned into was an experience so enriching, so lasting, and so meaningful, it brought me back here a year later, to continue the work I started. I can truly, honestly say, I didn’t expect to be back this soon, and with Eric, for an extended period of time. Looking back at what I thought my life would look like a year from then, I, well, I guess it really doesn’t matter what I thought I’d be doing or where I thought I’d be. Because I’m here, teaching 40 students a skill that will only help them integrate into the business world at a faster pace than many of their peers, equipping them with skills and knowledge that they can use to their advantage regardless of what education or career path they take. And, it all started with one little computer in one little cement walled, tin-roofed office. One year ago today, I embarked on a journey that would define the next year of my life, and longer. I can only imagine how this time around will shape this next year, and perhaps, years to come.
-Laurel
Monday, November 15, 2010
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Standard 8 Prayer Party
Prayer days are just one of the many Kenyan traditions we’ve had the opportunity to take part since we’ve been here. Prayer days are all day events that are dedicated to celebrating the students that are preparing to take the national exams that will determine the students’ education future. Two groups of students sit for these national exams, Standard 8, whose exams determine whether or not they can continue to high school, and the Form 4 students (seniors), whose marks determine what kind of college they can apply to. We should take the time to stop and explain how the exams are set up. The KCPE is the exam for standard 8 students and anyone looking to pursue a high school education must pass this exam. Technically passing is receiving 250 out of a possible 500, however, the better one scores, the more options they have for choosing what school they can attend. Any admission into a school can be bought, but only for those who can afford it. It is Hamomi’s policy that a student must receive marks of at least 300 out of 500 in order for them to be sponsored into secondary school While this is possible, it is a challenge and a goal the teachers and students alike have been preparing all year for. This year, Hamomi sent 12 students to the KCPE out of the total 746,000 students that sat for the exam nationwide. Contrary to what the name suggests, there isn’t actually that much praying. Instead, it is a time for the students, and all those who have supported them-- parents, guardians, teachers, etc-- to gather together and wish the candidates all the best. And then, of course, in Kenyan tradition, eat. And Boy do they eat! But, we’ll get to that part.
In preparation for tour Standard 8 Prayer Day, we were asked to prepare something to bring for the feast. We were told there would be around 30 people in attendance, the 12 students and their guardians, plus the director and teachers of the school. The rest of the school would not have classes that day, but rather would spend the day playing games, as the teachers would be tied up in the celebration and it seems rather unfair that the rest of the school be in formal classes while Standard 8 parties.
Knowing that the last year’s volunteers set the bar high by baking a plethora of delicious treats, we knew we had to bring our A game-- and bake something. Now, baking back home is a daunting enough task, but baking something here where all of the measurements are in different units, temperatures are different, and without a working knowledge of how to even use the cooking equipment here, we were intimidated to say the least. However, we drew inspiration from a treat that was in frequent supply throughout college for both of us and one that reminds us of home. Rice krispie treats it had to be!
We must take this time to apologize to Momma Reithel for bringing shame to the treat that is rice krispie treats as our execution was as poor as our planning, as you’ll soon see. We are very thankful the students had nothing to compare them to because we know full well that any American would’ve looked at what we made and would’ve denied that what was before them even resembled rice krispie treats-- or anything closely related!
On our high horses, we thought “ How hard can it be?” Some rice krispie cereal, marshmallows, butter, and voila! Easy enough…. Or so we thought.
We set out to the supermarket with our list and were very pleased to find an off brand rice kripsie cereal that would suffice. Our first run-in with trouble was picking out marshmallows, which are only sold in small packages with both white and pink mallows, the pink ones possessing an artificial strawberry flavor that is not very appealing Not knowing the proper ratios needed, we settled on one bag of mallows, reasoning that if we needed to add more, we could buy more the following day. Next, we contemplated between butter or margarine. Now, back home it would’ve been no question as to what our choice would’ve been and we would’ve bought the butter and been done with it. But here butter is ridiculously expensive, around $5 a pound-- no that is NOT an exaggeration-- and we did not bring that much cash with us, so we settled on the popular name brand of margarine and reasoned it would be similar enough.
With our supplies in hand, we arrived home just before sunset, closing the window of opportunity for leaving the house the rest of the night, and started mixing. First, one of the bags of rice krispie cereals seemed to have exploded inside the box and were a little stale. No biggie, they were all getting mixed together anyway. Next, we tried melting the margarine, somewhat unsuccessfully, as the margarine wouldn’t quite melt down the way butter would. We shrugged that off and went on to melt the white and strawberry mallows together. We soon realized we bought way too few mallows and melted way too much margarine and were now stuck with this margariney artifical strawberry/mallow glop that wouldn‘t stick together. Uh-oh. Not wanting to waste what we had made we stupidly mixed in the stale cereal anyway and decided to leave it until the next day when we would buy more mallows to even out the margarine covered cereal mess we had on our hands. Fast forward to the next day, we brought our concoction to Val‘s house, another volunteer, armed with more mallows and a bar of chocolate. reasoning that if all else failed we would cover them in chocolate, because, honestly, who doesn’t love chocolate covered anything?
To melt down the new mallows, we had to microwave our whole dish, which caused the rice krispies to become even more soggy and soft. We were doomed. But, we forged ahead and formed the gloop into rice krispie balls, then dipped the tops into a generous amount of chocolate. We shrugged, thinking that something is better than nothing, and well, they’re covered in chocolate!
The day of the prayer party was very festive, because it was not only the prayer day, but also our Spanish volunteer Carmen’s 28th birthday. She came with birthday flags and balloons that added a colorful touch to the classroom that was hosting the party. In true Kenyan fashion, the program that was supposed to start at 10 didn’t actually start until a good hour after that. We all crammed into one classroom and enjoyed sodas as the English teacher Edwin emceed the program. It was great to see all of the guardians come to celebrate and support their student, a majority of whom aren’t their biological children. Hamomi has helped numerous students find homes with guardians who have agreed to take them in around the local community. A majority of the program was everyone introducing themselves and saying a word of good luck to the students, followed by a few short speeches by the different departments and Raphael, the Executive Director of Hamomi.
Then, it was time for lunch. Two huge heaps of ugali, which can be best described by its consistency, which is a mix between overcooked sticky rice or very firmly stuck together grits, however, it does not boast any taste whatsoever. This treat was a nice interruption from the usual rice and beans the students are served for lunch everyday. The ugali was enjoyed with a great meat stew and a traditional pico de gallo like mix called cachumbari. We feasted to our hearts content until it came time for us to serve our treats. As we passed out the homemade delicious chocolate chip cookies and brownies Val and Carmen brought, we nervously passed around our less than stellar rice krispie treats. I wish we had a video that captured some of the mothers faces reacting to our treats, as they had never seen such a concoction. They just as nervously took the treats we brought and I’m sure their inner dialogue was just as apprehensive as ours was. We were relieved as we watched the students taste our treats and swallow it down. And, of course, I asked if they enjoyed our “failed” experiment in the kitchen! They did.
After lunch, the prayer officially started, which was conducted by one of the parents who is a devoted supporter of Hamomi who even runs our board meetings. He is a priest of some sort and did a wonderful job with the sermon. At least I’m pretty sure he did, as it was all in Swahili and we could not understand what exactly was going on, but we did our best to follow along and chime in with the rest of the participants whenever they were prompted to respond to the priest. He is a very animated speaker and we could tell he was speaking with much passion, encouraging the students to do their best and to assure them that they have the potential to get adequate marks to pass onto the next phase of their education. The afternoon was quickly escaping us, so with a final bid of good luck, we departed towards home.
Enjoy the pictures by clicking this link! There will be more added this weekend!
In preparation for tour Standard 8 Prayer Day, we were asked to prepare something to bring for the feast. We were told there would be around 30 people in attendance, the 12 students and their guardians, plus the director and teachers of the school. The rest of the school would not have classes that day, but rather would spend the day playing games, as the teachers would be tied up in the celebration and it seems rather unfair that the rest of the school be in formal classes while Standard 8 parties.
Knowing that the last year’s volunteers set the bar high by baking a plethora of delicious treats, we knew we had to bring our A game-- and bake something. Now, baking back home is a daunting enough task, but baking something here where all of the measurements are in different units, temperatures are different, and without a working knowledge of how to even use the cooking equipment here, we were intimidated to say the least. However, we drew inspiration from a treat that was in frequent supply throughout college for both of us and one that reminds us of home. Rice krispie treats it had to be!
We must take this time to apologize to Momma Reithel for bringing shame to the treat that is rice krispie treats as our execution was as poor as our planning, as you’ll soon see. We are very thankful the students had nothing to compare them to because we know full well that any American would’ve looked at what we made and would’ve denied that what was before them even resembled rice krispie treats-- or anything closely related!
On our high horses, we thought “ How hard can it be?” Some rice krispie cereal, marshmallows, butter, and voila! Easy enough…. Or so we thought.
We set out to the supermarket with our list and were very pleased to find an off brand rice kripsie cereal that would suffice. Our first run-in with trouble was picking out marshmallows, which are only sold in small packages with both white and pink mallows, the pink ones possessing an artificial strawberry flavor that is not very appealing Not knowing the proper ratios needed, we settled on one bag of mallows, reasoning that if we needed to add more, we could buy more the following day. Next, we contemplated between butter or margarine. Now, back home it would’ve been no question as to what our choice would’ve been and we would’ve bought the butter and been done with it. But here butter is ridiculously expensive, around $5 a pound-- no that is NOT an exaggeration-- and we did not bring that much cash with us, so we settled on the popular name brand of margarine and reasoned it would be similar enough.
With our supplies in hand, we arrived home just before sunset, closing the window of opportunity for leaving the house the rest of the night, and started mixing. First, one of the bags of rice krispie cereals seemed to have exploded inside the box and were a little stale. No biggie, they were all getting mixed together anyway. Next, we tried melting the margarine, somewhat unsuccessfully, as the margarine wouldn’t quite melt down the way butter would. We shrugged that off and went on to melt the white and strawberry mallows together. We soon realized we bought way too few mallows and melted way too much margarine and were now stuck with this margariney artifical strawberry/mallow glop that wouldn‘t stick together. Uh-oh. Not wanting to waste what we had made we stupidly mixed in the stale cereal anyway and decided to leave it until the next day when we would buy more mallows to even out the margarine covered cereal mess we had on our hands. Fast forward to the next day, we brought our concoction to Val‘s house, another volunteer, armed with more mallows and a bar of chocolate. reasoning that if all else failed we would cover them in chocolate, because, honestly, who doesn’t love chocolate covered anything?
To melt down the new mallows, we had to microwave our whole dish, which caused the rice krispies to become even more soggy and soft. We were doomed. But, we forged ahead and formed the gloop into rice krispie balls, then dipped the tops into a generous amount of chocolate. We shrugged, thinking that something is better than nothing, and well, they’re covered in chocolate!
The day of the prayer party was very festive, because it was not only the prayer day, but also our Spanish volunteer Carmen’s 28th birthday. She came with birthday flags and balloons that added a colorful touch to the classroom that was hosting the party. In true Kenyan fashion, the program that was supposed to start at 10 didn’t actually start until a good hour after that. We all crammed into one classroom and enjoyed sodas as the English teacher Edwin emceed the program. It was great to see all of the guardians come to celebrate and support their student, a majority of whom aren’t their biological children. Hamomi has helped numerous students find homes with guardians who have agreed to take them in around the local community. A majority of the program was everyone introducing themselves and saying a word of good luck to the students, followed by a few short speeches by the different departments and Raphael, the Executive Director of Hamomi.
Then, it was time for lunch. Two huge heaps of ugali, which can be best described by its consistency, which is a mix between overcooked sticky rice or very firmly stuck together grits, however, it does not boast any taste whatsoever. This treat was a nice interruption from the usual rice and beans the students are served for lunch everyday. The ugali was enjoyed with a great meat stew and a traditional pico de gallo like mix called cachumbari. We feasted to our hearts content until it came time for us to serve our treats. As we passed out the homemade delicious chocolate chip cookies and brownies Val and Carmen brought, we nervously passed around our less than stellar rice krispie treats. I wish we had a video that captured some of the mothers faces reacting to our treats, as they had never seen such a concoction. They just as nervously took the treats we brought and I’m sure their inner dialogue was just as apprehensive as ours was. We were relieved as we watched the students taste our treats and swallow it down. And, of course, I asked if they enjoyed our “failed” experiment in the kitchen! They did.
After lunch, the prayer officially started, which was conducted by one of the parents who is a devoted supporter of Hamomi who even runs our board meetings. He is a priest of some sort and did a wonderful job with the sermon. At least I’m pretty sure he did, as it was all in Swahili and we could not understand what exactly was going on, but we did our best to follow along and chime in with the rest of the participants whenever they were prompted to respond to the priest. He is a very animated speaker and we could tell he was speaking with much passion, encouraging the students to do their best and to assure them that they have the potential to get adequate marks to pass onto the next phase of their education. The afternoon was quickly escaping us, so with a final bid of good luck, we departed towards home.
Enjoy the pictures by clicking this link! There will be more added this weekend!
Global Cuisine
A pleasant surprise that we’ve had the pleasure of experiencing here is volunteering with people from all over the world. When we first arrived, we expected to be the only volunteers, but instead have been accompanied by Valeria, who is a French Venezuelan here for two months, and Carmen, a Spanish who is here for a year accompanying her boyfriend as he is on a year long assignment with the Spanish embassy. Lacking world traveling experience, I love interacting with these girls and learning more about where they come from. And, it comes in handy that I’ve studied Spanish, so can understand them pretty well when they speak to each other in their native language, although I have not yet mustered up the confidence to speak back. We all spend our days together, which include long walks and ample time to get to know each other and thus have become great friends. One of the best parts about our newfound friendship is the global cuisine we have enjoyed together. It started out as Valeria inviting us over to the house she’s staying in, that of her cousin and his wife who both work for the World Bank, to cook lunch. This house is incredible, and Valeria has spoiled us by having us over multiples times to do laundry in the machine-- a luxury here-- and use the free wireless. Not to mention, they have an awesome dog with whom we get our pet fixes, as we are saddened that we have to walk past the adorable slum dogs everyday not able to pet them. Anyway, back to lunch.
We decided to make a tortilla-- not the American or Mexican version of a tortilla, but the Spanish kind, which is basically a quiche without the crust. We decided to cook it over at Carmen apartment, as she is the resident Spaniard and she would know how to cook it best. It was delightful! A thick slice of potatoes and onions held together with scrambled egg-- a wonderful reprieve from the somewhat monotonous rice and beans we eat at Hamomi when we stay for lunch. After our first successful food experiment it was time for Valeria to show us some of her heritage by making ratatouille from France and platanos from Venezuela. Now, ratatouille is pretty well known, but the platanos are a wonderful treat we fully intend on integrating into our diet, both here an upon our return. Platanos are plantains sliced into pieces, fried until golden brown, then taken out, smashed down a little, soaked in garlic water, then fried again, topped with a little salt. They make French fries look like child’s play. We had them once at her house and then tried making them ourselves, and while hers had the taste of an expert, we’re confident we’ll master the art of making them in no time.
So, after crossing over from Spain to France to Venezuela, it was our turn. While we were thinking ( or craving) a variety of burgers, French toast, biscuits and gravy, etc, we took our cue from the less than desirable weather, which has been dreary and rainy due to the short rain season we are currently in, and we settled on a nice vegetable soup. Not having ever made soup before, much less completely from scratch, we picked out a hodge podge of vegetables, some chicken bouillon cubes, and got to work. Everything came together really nicely, it was just a little…. Lackluster if you will. Basically some stewed veggies in a chicken water broth. So Val had the idea of taking some of the veggies and broth and “liquefying” it, blending it together. We took her cue, but left some vegetable to add some texture and variety to the mix and wouldn’t you know, it was perfect. The new broth was like a cream of vegetable broth with chunks of vegetable, the perfect rainy day remedy.
I think one of the best ways to experience a culture is through the food, and we are certainly getting our share of Kenyan food here, so it has been such a treat for us to try new foods from new places of the world I have not yet been to. But, more than the food, it’s has been great having other volunteers around to share the experience with and to create a truly global experience here. Carmen and Valeria have brought a new perspective to this experience and one that has been really unique. Everyone experiences things differently and it’s a learning experience just hearing their take on things and their worldview in general. Valeria has really taken a liking to Nairobi and is looking to move here in January for a year or so, hoping to land a job with an international organization. She keeps urging us to do the same and is always pointing out reasons for us to stay, or to come back here for awhile to work. Who knows. As Val says, “ Lo que sera, sera”. Basically, what will be, will be. For us here, and for the future, definitely words to live by.
-Laurel
We decided to make a tortilla-- not the American or Mexican version of a tortilla, but the Spanish kind, which is basically a quiche without the crust. We decided to cook it over at Carmen apartment, as she is the resident Spaniard and she would know how to cook it best. It was delightful! A thick slice of potatoes and onions held together with scrambled egg-- a wonderful reprieve from the somewhat monotonous rice and beans we eat at Hamomi when we stay for lunch. After our first successful food experiment it was time for Valeria to show us some of her heritage by making ratatouille from France and platanos from Venezuela. Now, ratatouille is pretty well known, but the platanos are a wonderful treat we fully intend on integrating into our diet, both here an upon our return. Platanos are plantains sliced into pieces, fried until golden brown, then taken out, smashed down a little, soaked in garlic water, then fried again, topped with a little salt. They make French fries look like child’s play. We had them once at her house and then tried making them ourselves, and while hers had the taste of an expert, we’re confident we’ll master the art of making them in no time.
So, after crossing over from Spain to France to Venezuela, it was our turn. While we were thinking ( or craving) a variety of burgers, French toast, biscuits and gravy, etc, we took our cue from the less than desirable weather, which has been dreary and rainy due to the short rain season we are currently in, and we settled on a nice vegetable soup. Not having ever made soup before, much less completely from scratch, we picked out a hodge podge of vegetables, some chicken bouillon cubes, and got to work. Everything came together really nicely, it was just a little…. Lackluster if you will. Basically some stewed veggies in a chicken water broth. So Val had the idea of taking some of the veggies and broth and “liquefying” it, blending it together. We took her cue, but left some vegetable to add some texture and variety to the mix and wouldn’t you know, it was perfect. The new broth was like a cream of vegetable broth with chunks of vegetable, the perfect rainy day remedy.
I think one of the best ways to experience a culture is through the food, and we are certainly getting our share of Kenyan food here, so it has been such a treat for us to try new foods from new places of the world I have not yet been to. But, more than the food, it’s has been great having other volunteers around to share the experience with and to create a truly global experience here. Carmen and Valeria have brought a new perspective to this experience and one that has been really unique. Everyone experiences things differently and it’s a learning experience just hearing their take on things and their worldview in general. Valeria has really taken a liking to Nairobi and is looking to move here in January for a year or so, hoping to land a job with an international organization. She keeps urging us to do the same and is always pointing out reasons for us to stay, or to come back here for awhile to work. Who knows. As Val says, “ Lo que sera, sera”. Basically, what will be, will be. For us here, and for the future, definitely words to live by.
-Laurel
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)