A leisurely breakfast, and then time to go to the school. Along the way to the elementary school we met a swarm of Early Childhood Development students. This is a three year program for 3-5 year olds before they start elementary school. When I used to come they used to run and hide, but this time a couple of them came and shook my hand, and then all of them followed. You can’t imagine how your hand feels after you shake hands with about 30 pre-schoolers…and, by the way, can anyone tell me why their little hands are always wet? If the answer is gross, never mind. I think it was a wonderful sign that they have become used to seeing a white person in their midst who is just a person…I’m not an official in a suit who arrives in a big car, just another person who walks and talks and eats just like they do.
After the elementary school, we visited the secondary school, and I stood there, amazed. Four years ago we started Form 1 in the early childhood development classroom with volunteer teachers and great deal of faith. Now we have a real school. There are classrooms and labs. The yard is neatly marked off with stones painted white, and there are shrubs planted along the drive. There are flower gardens in front of the buildings, and the whole things is maintained by students.
I met with the Headmaster and we talked about the success of the students. In November, they write a national exam, to test admission to University. Anyone who scores a B+ will be financially supported by the government, so university is essentially free. The Headmaster believes that we will have one or two students who will make it…amazing considering where we were when they entered high school. We also talked about the needs of the school. The girls’ teams and the boys’ teams are starting to make their mark in inter-school competition, but they only have one set of uniforms. Whoever plays first wears them and then quickly strips off and gives them to the other team to wear. I can’t imagine wearing someone else’s sweaty sports uniform, but they want to show off their school pride. For about $250 we can buy them another set of uniforms…16 sets of shorts and shirts, so I’m hoping someone will read this and want to help.
The Headmaster asked me to address each class, so we went from one classroom to another. A real cultural difference hit me: in Canada if some students were sponsored and some paid their own way, I can’t imagine that we would point it out publicly. In Kenya, in each class the sponsored students were asked to identify themselves by putting up their hands. I was actually gratified to see that a number of them were prefects or head girls or boys…clearly “my” children are competing nicely with the others.
After I gave inspiring talks to each class, the sponsored students gave me letters that they had written to me, some of which made me want to cry. I’ll put some of the quotes on the Facebook site. Then the Headmaster asked two boys to come and meet with us. These two were apparently not living up to their potential, were not taking their studies seriously, and were taking up sponsored spaces that could be used by more diligent students. First a lecture from the Headmaster, then a lecture from the pastor, then a lecture from Mama and then I had to talk to them. I talked about the kind of jobs that they would get without an education: 3D jobs…dirty, dangerous and difficult (or sometimes demeaning). What I told them was that I wouldn’t tell them to study, that it was up to them, but that the choice they made now would have a big impact on the kind of work they would get to do, and left it like that. Later in the day, one of them sent me a note to tell me that he hadn’t thought that much about it, and would rather be an engineer, so he would be diligent from now on.
Home for lunch, more visiting and suddenly it was time to go. Having been without news, I missed the fact that there had been protests in Kisumu all day. http://www.nation.co.ke/counties/anti-IEBC-demos-Migori-Kisumu/-/1107872/3234532/-/r1kvsd/-/index.html
The protests had died down by the time we arrived, but on each speed bump as we got close to the airport there was a pile of smouldering truck tires, stinking and filling the air with black smoke. There were piles of rocks all over the road, and in one place someone had burned all the traffic cones. To me it doesn’t make much sense…if you put all of that energy into constructing something instead of making a mess there would be all kinds of progress.
We arrived safely at the airport in time for the flight, which was packed because the earlier flights had all been cancelled. A no-excitement trip to Nairobi, a pick up by an AKU driver and then on to the guest house only to find that I am staying in the same apartment as before, just in a different room.