A quick aside about Njenga: He’s a classmate of one of the orphans that Grace supported. He’s about 25 years old and about the nicest guy in the whole world. Has been my piki piki driver for about 5 months now, beginning when I was here last fall. He’s got a wonderful sense of humor and doesn’t bat an eye when I ask him to take me to Ilkiloret. The road to Ilkiloret is - let’s put it this way, Njenga says, “this is not a road,” repeatedly while he’s driving me there!
When Njenga finally arrives – he has overslept - we head off to the clinic, chilled poop in a sterilized baby food container tucked securely in my bag. And a big red duffle bad strapped to the back of the bike. Oh – and a three liter jug of drinking water secured under Njenga’s jacket.
The clinic is open 24-hours, but it’s really operational from 8a.m. to 6 p.m. I have forgotten my patient card, but I was there a week before so we looked back in the log and find my name and patient number. After a thorough examination, during which my temperature was taken and I was asked a few questions, I was told I’d need to give a stool sample but that it couldn’t processed until the power came back on and the lab tech arrived. We decided the quickest course of action was to leave the poop in the frig and I’d return for the analysis on Friday. In the meantime, the doctor would proscribe a broad spectrum anti-biotic and send me on my way.
I left the clinic and walked across the alley to the supermarket and picked up a few supplies while calling Njenga to come back and pick me. He had been fueling the bike and having breakfast. We packed up and headed out…only to remember that I needed tomatoes and onions – the Kenyan base for cooking just about everything. In Maasailand there are not many gardens – thus almost zero vegetables. If I wanted tomatoes and onions in my food, I would have to carry them.
Loaded down we head out. First stopping at the farm to say goodbye to Grace and John. But of course it was breakfast time so we had to take a quick cup of tea and eat a pancake (like you would eat a donut in the US – without all the sticky stuff that requires that you eat it with a fork and knife). Finally, we wave goodbye and are off. It’s about a 45-minute ride from the farm to Ilkiloret. Njenga and I have numbered the big hills (more like mini-mountains along the way). On hill number one we have a minor spin out of the back wheel…the silt in the road makes it really slippery. Hill number two doesn’t present any problems, but with all the weight behind me on the bike, hill number three makes me feel a bit like I’m the hero in the “The Man From Snowy River”, when he’s riding his steed down the cliff almost vertical – man and horse are one. Really I’m just trying to ensure that Njenga doesn’t get pushed too far up on the front of the bike. He has a habit of driving with his hands on the sides of his handlebars so that just his palms touch the bars. With that little control…I don’t want to put him off balance.
We arrive safe and sound and I ease my sore body off the bike. I say hello to Janet, the Maasai woman who is my co-teacher, and Rebecca my host takes me home to change clothes and put my things away.
The last time Grace was in Ilkiloret (without me) she told the assembled villagers that I would be coming to teach English to adults. She asked how they would accommodate me. Rebecca stood and said, “Jessica is mine.” Meaning that she will house me and cook for me.
I think if Rebecca and I spoke a common language we might never stop talking to one another. We have been friends for 10 years. She was 16 when we met. She was not married. Now she is married and has three children and cares for an additional three children. We communicate – it’s a mix of Swahili and English and 10 years of getting to know each other. The rest of the village is a bit in awe of our relationship. They really don’t understand it or how with so few words we can speak volumes to one another. I like to think of it as a big of God’s grace. I would not feel nearly so comfortable in Ilkiloret without Rebecca.
Rebecca and her husband, James, are employed by the MITI project that has land adjacent to where the classroom is. This is due to the fact that all the land in the area is owned by the chief, Janet’s father, and he has given land to both Wezehsa and MITI to do projects that empower the village.
James tends the projects cattle and Rebecca does some of the milking and cooks for the other project workers. The biggest plus to their current living situation is that MITI has drilled a well and one of the taps is few meters from her front door.
They do not live in a traditional Maasai manyatta. THANK GOODNESS! It’s really hard to photograph the inside of a manyatta – they are mud and stick and dung construction and they are usually very hot and they cook inside them too so they are also very smoky. Rebecca has a two-room house with a cement floor and iron sheet walls and roof. It is hot too or cold depending on the temperature outside and their house faces the cow enclosure so there are TOO MANY FLIES!
The flies seemed to have multiplied since the last time I was in Ilkiloret, but everyone just said there are flies because they the cows were near and there was milk. So my one issue with the MIDI project is this – why would you build the house of the workers 10 feet from the cow enclosure? I know the answer, and it’s my very western thinking that even made me ask it. You keep the cows close to the sleeping quarters to protect them from predator animals and thieves. And maybe someday I’ll cease to be bothered by flies swarming my body…that’s a big MAYBE!
First class went well. Janet had told me that class started at 9 a.m. and went to 12:30. What I know about attention spans, is that they don’t last that long, so I was interested to see this phenomenon. I arrived about 9:30 on the pikipiki from Ngong on the first day. Janet and Rebecca were the only two in the classroom. Rebecca and I went home unpacked and returned to school around 10 a.m. and Janet was still there alone. By 10:30 most students had arrived and by 10:45 all 8 students who attended class the first day were present and accounted for. Now that’s more like it… two hours is much more manageable than three and a half.
I had no idea where to start. Most of my students have never been to school. But two of them James and Moses are pastors. The men wore suits or nice shirts to class. The women came in their traditional Maasai attire or in skirts and tops. I have one baby so far. She’s about three months old. And two of Rebecca’s children, 3-year-old Eliza and 5-year-old Ezekiel are in and out.
Our chalkboard is a piece of plywood painted with chalkboard paint. Between the chalk dust and the flies I’m either sneezing or swatting when I’m not extracting responses from the students.
“What is your name?”
“My name is …
This simple drill took a ridiculous amount of time. They know the alphabet, but they need to practice writing. So we wrote it down.
Janet is a wonderful help. She explains everything I say in KiSwahili and when necessary in KiMaasai.
My students affectionately call English, KiZungu. From the KiSwahili word “mzungu” which means white person. I’ve actually caught myself saying, “it’s okay just try to say the word in KiZungu.”
These students, just like my Somali and Sudanese students in the states, have no patience for process. They want to know how to speak now – they want to know the names of things in English, so we are working our way through the alphabet with vocab words they use everyday, like airplane (many fly overhead) and amen (most of them are Christians), bed and banana, cow and cook, dig and door.
What I discovered from this exercise is that very few of them can sound out words. So we put up the vowels and go through pronunciation. There are two distinct levels of comprehension in the room and probably many more in the eight students present, but they’re excited and Janet and I will find a way to help them all learn.
…I think you might need a break, we are only through the morning on day one and I was there for 48 hours!
Whew – I’ll try to make Part Two shorter!
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