June 14: Saying Good-bye

Our bags are packed, our rooms are cleared, and yet none of us are ready to leave. At 11am, we say goodbye to everyone at Transit Hotel and take our last pictures of Maai-Mahiu. We drive to Nairobi to stay there for the night, in order to catch our 8:30 flight tomorrow morning. Fortunately, Dominic is given permission to take the afternoon off from work, so he comes to Nairobi with Rocky, Mwaniki and Kerwin later on in the day.

We get to YaYa Centre in Nairobi to have lunch and do some last minute shopping for gifts. At 3pm, I get a call from Rocky.

"Jess. I'm really sorry. But I don't think I'll be able to make it to Nairobi today."
"Haha. Very funny Rocky."
"No, in all honesty Jess. I can't leave Maai-Mahiu. I'm so sorry."
"Oh my god. Are you serious?" I can't imagine not having properly said goodbye to Rocky, Mwaniki and Dominic. I feel a huge lump in my throat and the phone goes silent.
"Hahahahaha. Just kidding!" Rocky laughs. "I'm actually outside the Yaya Centre. See you in two minutes."

I feel like an idiot for falling for yet another one of Rocky's "jokes."

At 5pm, we head to the Kwality Hotel (spelled exactly like that), for our last dinner in Kenya. It's a beautiful restaurant that is canopied beneath palm trees and emits the feeling of outdoor eating inside. After placing our orders, Dominic gets us all a round of Tuskers. Then another round. Then a round after that. It takes forever for the food to arrive, and some of us are definitely feeling the effects of alcohol on an empty stomach. Mwaniki, Holly, Kayla, Rocky, and Fred get up and start dancing to cheesy love songs. It's absolutely hilarious.

By 8pm, we finish eating and we know that it's time to finally say goodbye. In the parking lot of the restaurant, I hug Mwaniki and tears start rolling down my face uncontrollably. Mwaniki's crying too. And so are Kayla and Holly. It's hard to believe that in just five weeks, we've all grown to be so close to Rocky, Mwaniki and Dominic. I think about the possibility of never seeing them again, and I start bawling my eyes out. They promise to visit Toronto one day, and I sincerely hope that they will.

Now that I'm back in Toronto, there's a feeling of emptiness inside and I'm not quite sure how to reconcile it. I feel like I've left my heart in Kenya. But perhaps that's not entirely a bad thing. At least I know that there's something beckoning me back and it'll only be a matter of time before I do.

June 13: Our Last Day

I wake up this morning with a heavy heart, knowing that this is our last day at Transit Hotel. We're leaving for Nairobi tomorrow and catching our 9am flight back to Toronto on Monday.

It's hard to believe that our five weeks in Kenya are already over. I remember the first week we arrived time seemed to move so slowly. We were getting used to our surroundings, and quite honestly, most of us felt pretty scared the first night we stayd at Transit. Everything was pitch black, the wooden hinges of the doors screeched eerily, and we trusted no one. Now, I look back at our uneasiness and laugh.

Transit has become our home. Dominic, the hotel manager, has come to be our big brother, taking care of our every need - from staying up late to chat to buying us fruits from Naivasha to checking on us throughout the day when we take turns falling sick. I don't know whether I'll be able to leave tomorrow morning without crying and I genuinely hope that Dominic will be able to visit us in Toronto one day.

Today, Jenn and Heidi are at John's house to print CTC t-shirts that Heidi has custom designed for our team. Rocky and Mwaniki have come to the hotel to hang out with the rest of us. I'm surprised that they're not tired, seeing as we all stayed up late last night, turning Transit into a makeshift club and dancing to music on Kerwin's laptop while the power was out. I'm tired and reluctant to pack, knowing that what it symbolizes and realizing that this truly is the end of our trip.

In some ways, I'm looking forward to going home. I miss my friends and family a lot, especially my sister, who is in town for a few days. I also miss hot showers, clean laundry (my attempts at hand-washing have proved to be futile), and practically every food item that requires refrigeration (i.e yogurt, milk, cheese)! I've come to realize how lucky I am to have so much variety in my diet - lucky that I am able to eat something different everyday. Here, dinner rotates amongst a few permeations: rice/pasta/potatoes/ugali (maize meal), spinach/kale/cabbage, beans/corn, and goat/beef. I know I have no right to complain because the kids at Ngaya eat beans and maize everyday for lunch and many Kenyans can only afford to eat plain ugali as a meal.

But aside from being homesick (mainly for food!), I know it'll be difficult to readjust to my life in Toronto. I'm scared and uneasy about how I'll feel. I don't even know what I look like because there are no mirrors here, I haven't worn makeup, I've barely watched the news, and I've only been able to get on the Internet twice this entire trip. I may be disconnected, but it's liberating at the same time and I'm not looking forward to being enslaved by the computer and my daily 'to do' lists when I go home. These are just the lifestyle changes that I've tried to anticipate.

I haven't even considered how I'll feel to leave behind Rocky and Mwaniki and all the other people who have touched my heart. I'm dreading the goodbyes tomorrow and can only hope that I have the strength to get through it.

June 12: Saying goodbye is hard to do

We're all happy to end the week by spending a day at Malaika Kids.

We all feel so much more at ease this time, as most, if not all of the children recognize us. Tabitha, (whom we've nicknamed Drooly, for leaving behind trails of saliva wherever she goes,) immediately raises her arms up to us to give us a hug. Abbey has also developed an attachment to Quentin, and clings onto him for most of the day, despite being shy with everyone else.

Instead of splitting into groups, we all pile into one room to play with the kids. There's not much of a fixed schedule because Fridays are half days for them. As we practice writing out numbers and reciting the alphabet, George picks up a ball and bounces it around the classroom. Despite attempts to get him to slow down, the ball rebounds uncontrollably against the walls, taking turns to whip us in the face. Eventually, Mike gets riled up too and begins running around. He's frustrated about something, as he screams, kicks and hits the other children. Tabitha starts crying and all hell breaks loose. The teachers remain calm somehow, while the rest of us are frantic. I have no idea how the teachers have the energy or stamina to do this everyday, and I admire them for it.

By 12:30pm, we're all drained. But even so, saying bye to the kids is so difficult. We've only spent a couple of days with them, and we've already developed such an attachment. For Quentin, it's particularly hard to leave Abbey, whom he absolutely adores.
Then, we say goodbye to the teachers. Jane cries as she hugs Kayla, and we all turn away before we start to cry too. Without hesitation, we all promise to come back to visit them soon. I can't imagine now coming back to Maai-Mahiu someday.

Back at the hotel, we lounge in the sun and read. We're gearing up for our 'awards gala' this evening, which is the brainchild of Kayla, Anisha, Holly and Heidi. I have no idea what to expect, but everyone (Dominic, Mwaniki and Rocky) are coming, and knowing our team, it'll probably be a hilarious night.

June 11: Last day on the project

Everyday we make the same walk to Ngaya, bypassing the same shops and butcheries, and being greeted by the same faces. But this time, I feel so much more reflective than usual, knowing that this is our last day at the project site, and the last time that we'll be at Ngaya.

I notice that the clouds look different than back home. They're not puffy and round, but vast and jagged, almost as if someone smeared a paintbrush across the sky. In the streets, none of the shops are open at 9am, but the butcheries are - always ready to sell a decent piece of mbuzi or bbq goat. I also notice that the children wear thick sweaters or winter jackets, even though it's 20-something degrees outside and the sun is blisteringly hot. They're things that I see everyday, but somehow, I seem to stop and appreciate them today.

Once we get to the worksite, we're greeted by Daniela and John, who are already sifting sand. We wheel barrel the sand to the classroom, and then mix the huge pile with cement and water. We have the system down pat, and Daniel jokes that we've become teachers in building classrooms. Though somehow, I don't think classrooms are built with shovels and wheel barrels back in Canada.

After lunch, we mix the final layers of cement and water and let John level out the floor. We visit one of the classrooms, and the 75 children go wild as we snap pictures. I feel bad that we've disrupted their lesson and there's little chance of the teacher regaining control.

We take a last group photo at Ngaya, proudly standing outside the block of newly renovated primary-grade classrooms that we've completed over the past five weeks. We walk back to Transit, still laughing at our Daniel impersonations and imitating his famous, 'Oh my God' line, which he says whenever the slightest thing goes wrong at the worksite. It's bittersweet knowing that today is our last work day. I'm grateful that our muscles can finally rest, but I will forever miss the jokes with Daniel and John, being surrounded by thousands of gawking children, and the feeling of accomplishment after completing a classroom.

Working at Ngaya has allowed me to experience and appreciate a whole new dimension of hard work, as I have watched the fundis exert their bodies beyond what I thought was physically possible - doing so constantly, effortlessly, and most of all, without complaint.

June 10: Mixing cement - half a classroom to go

For some reason, we're all tired and cranky today. We get to the worksite and find out that we'll have to use sand and concrete to level out the floor, as opposed to adding the sand and cement mixture directly on top. That means we won't finish the floor until tomorrow when we had all hoped to take the day off on Thursday.

We carry sand from one end of the schoolyard to the other, taking turn to lug the wheel barrel. After 20 runs of this, we fetch wheel barrels of rock. Once we dump the rock onto the sand pile, we add cement and mix the whole thing with water. We bring the entire mixture into the classroom, balancing the heavy wheel barrel on a thin plank of wood. It takes three of us to get the wheel barrel up the steps.

By lunch, we're exhausted. My heart sinks because I know that we still have another half of the classroom to go. But after eating, we somehow muster up the energy to get the job done. We get a system going and by 2:30, we really are done. We say goodbye to Daniel and John, and as I walk back to Transit, I realize that I'm secretly relieved at the fact that we still have to come back tomorrow. I'm not ready to say bye to the fundis, and the thought of having only a few days left in Maai-Mahiu fills me with a tremendous sense of dread.

June 9: Start on Classroom #4

We began renovating the fourth classroom today, completing the entire block of classrooms for Ngaya's primary school children. We dig out the top layer of dirt, and quickly become enveloped in sand and dust. Some of us cover our noses and mouths with bandanas, but it's not much use. Inhaling the smoky dirt is inevitable and after a couple of hours, we're all coughing up dust. Our lungs actually hurt.

Luckily, we've become so familiar with the process that we're able to finish digging out the dirt layer by lunch, as opposed to in the late afternoon. After we're done eating, we sweep the remaining dust and scrub the floor with water. By 2:30pm, we're done and were all relieved to go home early. Heidi, Jenn, Anisha and Kerwin all have a cold (how that's possible in Kenya, I'm not exactly sure), and the rest of us are still sore from climbing Longonot. I really just want to sleep early tonight and recuperate as much as possible before I have to mix cement tomorrow.

June 8: Finish Classroom #3!

It's hard to believe that this is our last week in Maai-Mahiu. Today, we finish the third classroom that we started two weeks ago. Because the concrete was so weak and the floor was so uneven, it took us longer to finish than we thought.

We begin by mixing cement and sand - turning the mixture over into piles until the white and black granules form a unified grey colour. Then, we make a moat and pour in water. The process is so familiar that Daniel, a local worker or fundi, is able to stand and supervise us, as opposed to showing us what to do.

We carry the mixture in buckets and one of the local workers evens out the floor. Jenn has learnt the process too, so she helps him out. We nickname her job the top of the social ladder. After lunch, we mix the final cement and water mixture. Applying the final layer requires special skill though, so we leave it to the fundis.

On our way home, we buy fruit at our regular stand and eat mangoes together back at the hotel. I'm definitely going to miss buying mangoes for only 20 shillings each.

June 7: Mount Longonot

We all load into the van and Holly squats on the floor, as Rocky and Mwaniki decide to join our hike up Mount Longonot. The mountain is only 17km from our hotel and we have a perfect view of it every morning when we walk
to Ngaya.

Longonot is actually in inactive volcano that is 400,000 years old, so part of the hike involves walking along the rim of the crater. According to Lonely Planet, it takes about an hour to trek up the mountain and another three hours to walk around the circumference. In total, it's a 6-hour trek. From the base of the mountain, it doesn't actually look that steep. But as we begin to walk, the incline increases and it's not before long that my thighs begin to burn. It doesn't help that the sun is beating down on us, sand is blowing in our face, and our feet keep slipping on the rocky gravel.

Holly and I take regular breaks - we blame our loss of breath on the 'altitude,' but we both know that we probably just need more cardio training. Stil, each break is an opportunity to take in the view and I'm blown away every time I look up and around.
After 45 minutes, we make it to the top, where Melissa, Kerwin, Heidi and Rocky are already sitting and taking in the view. We can see all of Lake Naivasha, as well as the rolling plains of the Rift Valley. We wait for the others before starting our trek around the mountain.

I start out thinking that the hike along the rim will be easier, but it's not The path is narrow and uneven, and it's a little nerve wracking to look left or right. On one side, we see the depths of the hollow volcano and on the other side, we're facing the edge of the cliff. Anisha and Quentin have a fear of heights, so they mainly stare down at their shoes.
Even as we walk along the rim it's still a steep uphill climb and the terrain is more rocky and challenging to climb than the mountain itself.

I slip and slide a number of times, and at one point, I'm gripping onto rock with my hands and feet. It's like walking through a canyon and you can see the path where lava once flowed. In 40 minutes, I reach the highest point, and we all break there for lunch. Melissa meets a local Kenyan who does this trek every Sunday. I can't imagine having the stamina to ake this a weekly routine.

After making it around the mountain in an hour, we start making the descent back down. Our feet slip against the sand, but by this point, we're used to squatting on our bums and simply sliding down the mountain. At points, the momentum forces us to run down - wind and sand whipping at our face.
We all make it down in one piece and are filled with a huge sense of accomplishment. In the end, we climbed 2776 km up the mountain and another 7km around the rim, totaling an 11km trek. I feel like we've all become physically stronger over the past month too, because it wasn't even that bad.

June 6: Celebrating Kerwin's Birthday

At 11:30 in the morning, we walk over to Rocky’s house for a Kenyan feast. For weeks, Rocky had been talking about slaughtering a goat for Kerwin’s birthday and enjoying it with all the trimmings.

Rocky owns a fairly large plot of land, which he shares with his brother and some other family members. He lives right next to Samax Inn and across the street from Ngaya School. When we get there, his friend is holding the live goat on a leash. Melissa and Kayla have already decided that they won’t watch the goat being slaughtered, so they go inside to watch TV. The rest of us gather round, while Rocky ties the goat’s legs and others hold it down. He hands Kerwin the knife and instructs him to cut the major vein in the neck.

“When should I do it?” Kerwin asks nervously.
“Now.” Rocky responds.
“What? Like now?”
“Now.” Rocky says again.

It’s almost as if the goat knows that it’s going to die, because it closes its eyes and doesn’t try to fight. Kerwin pierces the neck and I gasp in horror. The goat lets out a soft cry, its tongue falls out and blood squirts out of the vein. Holly whimpers in tears and runs inside the house to join Melissa and Kayla. I feel weak in the knees, but stay to watch the rest. After draining the blood in a metal bowl, Rocky’s brother continues cutting off the rest of the goat’s head. The whole thing lasts about three minutes. Then they skin the goat and remove the insides.

Despite the shock of watching a goat being slaughtered, I actually find the process to be clean and humane. There is also a sense of respect for the goat, as we use every part of its body, without wasting anything. Rocky’s family makes a broth by boiling the head and lungs; they barbecue the intestines and stomach; make a stew out of the meat; mix sausages from the blood and meat; and use the skin to make drums. For the first time, I try a piece of goat testicles, intestine and liver. I don’t really enjoy it, but manage to swallow.

In the kitchen, the women prepare the vegetables for the stew and salad. They also roll out dough to make chapatis – a thin and delicious piece of bread, slightly thicker than a crepe. I love that the preparation of food is as much a part of the celebration than the food itself. Everyone lends a hand in the kitchen, and the kids play soccer. After three hours, the food is ready, and we devour a feast of potatoes, goat stew, barbecued goat, salad, cabbage and chapatis. It’s one of the best meals we’ve had this entire trip, and we’re absolutely stuffed by the end of it.

When we get back to Transit, we all comment on how touched we are that Rocky’s family hosted this party for us and went to such great lengths to make us feel welcome. Kenyans truly are the most hospitable people I have ever met.

June 5: Digging Holes, withdrawing cash and Blackout Birthday Party

Today, we work at Ngaya to plant onion seedlings and prepare sack gardens – a contraption of rock and soil to plant things in. When we finish, Rocky tells us to dig holes around the schoolyard to plant trees.
“How many holes?” We all ask.
“100,” Rocky replies with a straight face.
We’re never able to tell whether Rocky is telling the truth or joking. He has such a serious demeanor, but he’s also notorious for playing practical jokes. We laugh, half hoping that he’s joking. At noon, Nathan comes round and offers to drive Anisha and I to Naivasha so I can withdraw some much-needed cash for the team. Getting shillings has proven to be a big challenge because the nearest ATM is 45 minutes away from Maai-Mahiu. There’s also a 40,000 KSH limit on each withdrawal, which is equivalent to about $600 CDN.
When I get back to the project site, the rest of the team looks exhausted and are ready to go home.
“We’ve dug more than 60 holes,” Kayla drones.
Still, the rest of Ngaya’s garden needs to be weeded, so I convince everyone to work through the afternoon. In two hours, we finish hoeing the entire garden and we pat ourselves on the back for our efficiency.
Tonight, we’re just relieved to chill out and relax at the hotel. It’s Kerwin’s birthday today, so we’ve bought some cupcakes and iced them with chocolate peanut butter. After dinner, we’ll stage a blackout and the plan is for Holly, Kayla and I to come out from the kitchen with candles, cupcakes and party hats. Then it’s off to Rocky’s tomorrow for part two of the celebrations, where Kerwin will slaughter a goat.

June4: Malaika Kids

We arrive at Malika Kids just in time to watch them sing and dance. Afterwards, the kids are split into two groups and we divide ourselves amongst them. We mould play-doh, do jigsaw puzzles and colour. Each child is unique in their own way and I’m amazed by how they interact with one another. Tabitha is unable to talk, but she communicates by clapping her hands, giggling and making faces. Quentin falls in love with Abbey, who insists on making play-doh bracelets in every colour for him. Abbey has only one arm, and that disability alone is enough to prevent her from being admitted to a government-funded school, such as Ngaya. If it weren’t for CTC’s Malaika Kids, many of these children wouldn’t be able to attend school, or they’d be forced to travel to Nairobi to attend a special school for the disabled. And many of these schools are under-funded and under-staffed.
At Malaika Kids, the teachers have been trained to work with children with special needs. They also tailor each child’s learning to their specific needs. As a child with Down Syndrome, George was aggressive and violent when he first arrived to the Malaika program. But now, he laughs plays and is affectionate towards the other children, especially Ruth, whom he adores.
Today, we were able to see the results firsthand of a CTC program. All of the children have improved drastically since attending the school, and each one is cared for and loved by the staff. The nine of us decide that we want to donate the rest of our project contribution towards the Malaika Program by hiring a physiotherapist for the children. This way, we’re certain that we’re contributing towards something sustainable for the community.

June 3: The Good Shepard Orphanage

It’s 9:30 in the morning and the nine of us, plus Rocky pile into the CTC Jeep to head over to Good Shepherd Orphanage. It’s a bumpy ride and we all laugh at the fact that having 11 people in one car would be illegal in Canada.
When we get there, a couple of kids instantly run out from the orphanage to greet us. A little girl in a pretty green dress pulls at my hair and strokes Kayla’s leg. She’s also fascinated by Melissa’s sunglasses. We introduce ourselves to the vivacious girl, whose name is Mary.
Mary is one of about 10 kids at the orphanage – though the term ‘orphan’ is one that Nathan doesn’t really like. After all, some of the children do have parents, but they’re unable to look after them.
Good Shepherd is operated entirely by one woman named Jane. And it wasn’t until CTC became involved that she funded the place entirely on her own. Still, CTC doesn’t have direct control over the orphanage, nor can they overtake it as one of their programs. The orphanage receives funding from Kansas State University, as a result of its partnership with CTC, and now Good Shepherd has a kitchen, garden, mattresses, and split dormitories for boys and girls.
Today, Kerwin, Quentin and Jennifer help in finishing the walls of the kitchen, while the rest of us repaint the girls’ dorm.
We start by moving the bunk beds and cleaning the walls. The odour of urine and the piles of dust beneath the furniture practically make me gag; it looks like the floors haven’t been cleaned or wiped in years. The only thing we have to clean the floor is a bushel of grass and an old cloth. We do the best that we can and before long, the room looks much brighter and cleaner in a baby blue colour.
We tell Holly to take some of the kids out of the room and play with them so we can paint the second coat. I wander off with Kayla to explore the rest of the orphanage. In the classroom, I discover a baby girl lying on a dirty and ragged piece of foam. There are sores all over her face and she blinks at the ceiling motionlessly.
“She looks sick,” Kayla says. “She’s not doing what other babies do.”
I come close to pick up the baby, but she reeks. Her clothes are soaked and soiled and it looks like she hasn’t been changed in a long time. In the doorway, Leah, one of the caretakers, is standing.
“Has she been changed?” I ask her. Leah shakes her head. She then calls over one of the children, Moses, and asks him something in Swahili. He quickly scurries off.
“Is she sick?” Kayla asks. Leah nods.
“What kind of sick?”
“HIV positive.,” Leah replies. She tells us that Fresca came to the orphanage a couple of weeks ago, and was dropped off by the District Officer when her mother died.
I feel a huge knot in my throat as I look over at Fresca. Eleven-year-old Moses then comes into the room with a pile of clean clothes under his arm. Instinctively, he begins changing her. She stops crying the moment he holds her, almost as if he’s her big brother.
Tears start gushing down my face as I watch Moses take care of her. It’s too much for me to handle, so I leave the room. Moses reminds me of Benjamin Button – an adult stuck in a little child’s body. Only that he is a child. All the children here have been forced to grow up so quickly and I’m overwhelmed at the fact that Moses is more mature and paternal than I am.
After lunch, a group of clowns sponsored by a Dutch NGO called Terre des Hommes, arrives to play with the children. They perform skits, sing and facepaint the children. I’m so heartened to finally see the kids act like kids – laugh, giggle and run around.
Spending the day at Good Shepherd Orphanage impacted all of us in one way or another. Some of us have decided to donate to the orphanage on a regular basis, and others have promised to come back and visit. For me, the kids at Good Shepherd have taught me the meaning of resilience, love and compassion, while reminding me that we are all part of the same community, even if we live on different sides of the world.

June 2: The start and stop of rain

Today, we hope it doesn’t rain so we can finish the garden. But at 12:30, it starts to spit. We all groan, as we realize that a storm is on its way. I try to work through it and am determined to finish weeding the bed. We contemplate calling another half day. But then gradually, the clouds start to move and the sun comes out. We manage to plant all the seedlings and end the day feeling accomplished.

June : Back to work - Community garden.

Today, we work on the community garden at Ngaya school. We’re told by Rocky that this will be a relaxing week because we won’t have to toil over hard physical labour (i.e. building classrooms).
When we arrive to the garden, there are about nine beds that are filled with green shrubs. But it turns out that the “green shrubs” are all weeds. Our job is to hoe all of the beds and then plant the soil with new seedlings.
The job seems easy. But after a couple of hours, we haven’t even finished hoeing four garden beds. We break for lunch and then get back at it. After a few minutes, we hear the sound of thunder in the distance. Our hearts sink as we realize that most of us have hung our laundry to dry in the morning. And the last thing we want is to get soaked in the rain again; it takes days for our running shoes to dry.
We decide to play it safe and call it a half day. We’ll work extra hard tomorrow. By the time we arrive to Transit, it’s pouring rain. I’m so relieved we decided to leave.

May 31: Masaii Boma

After breakfast, we pack up and leave the campsite. The plan is to go to a Masaii Boma before hitting the road. A Masaii Boma is an opportunity to enter a Masaii village to see how the Masaii tribe lives. There is an admission cost of 800 shillings per person. We had discussed earlier whether we were comfortable paying in order to see another community. Many of us, including me, have our reservations, but decide that a Boma would be a good way to learn about the Masaii community – the third most populous of Kenya’s 42 tribes.
We arrive to the village and are given a dance by the Masaii warriors. They also show us their mating dance, which showcases how high the men can jump. Then, the Masaii guide takes us into one of the huts. The Masaii tribe is a polygamous community, where one man can have up to 10 wives. Each wife builds her own hut, which houses the children. The huts are made out of cow dung and are only as tall as the wife’s height, so most of us have to bend down in order to enter.
I’m shocked by how basic the huts is; there are just two beds made out of sticks and cloth and a small fire pit in the middle to cook food.The Masaii people only eat one meal a day, which is either the meat of a slaughtered goat or cow. They also drink the animal’s blood raw.Kayla asks where they get their source of other nutrients, but the guide appears confused. The Masaii eat nothing but meat. I didn’t even know it was possible to survive as a carnivore!
Afterwards, the Masaii men show us how they make a fire out of cow dung by sparking a flame with a knife. They use cow dung for many things, and so there are thousands of flies everywhere. I’m embarrassed to admit to myself that I feel uncomfortable and a little disgusted by the dirtiness of their village.
The guide later tells us what life is like for the Masaii. At the age of nine, a boy is circumcised and sent out to the bush for six months to fend for himself. If he survives, he earns the title of a warrior. Later, he must kill a lion, and if he succeeds, then he is ready to marry. The guide tells us that girls are also circumcised at the age of nine, and marry at about 14. The news about female circumcision makes me sick to my stomach. Thoughts begin spinning in my head and I’m at a loss for words. I never thought of myself as being western-centric. I don’t want to pass judgment and try to be culturally sensitive. But whichever way I look at it, I cannot justify their practice. And yet I can’t bring myself to ask the guide why they circumcise girls.
At the end of the tour, the guide takes us to their curio shop. We’re pressured by the women to buy their gifts. As some of the team bargain down prices and get souvenirs, I stand in the corner by myself. My knees feel weak. I see a young mother breastfeeding her baby and guess that she is no more than 14-years-old. She looks pre-pubescent – no more than a child herself. I start to feel nauseous and simply want to leave.
Back on the truck, I sit alone. Suddenly, my eyes well up in tears and I begin sobbing uncontrollably. I’m angry at this community. Angry that girls are circumcised, married off at such a young age, and forced to bear children. I’m angry that the Masaii are exoticized by the West and marveled at for their “eccentric” practices. I’m angry that we paid to see their community. Angry that the whole experience was so exploitative – on their part and ours. I’m angry that we didn’t actually learn anything about the Masaii because we are left with more questions than answers.
I can’t reconcile being cultural sensitive with the protection of what I believe to be fundamental human rights. And I’m not even sure if I should try.

May 30: We spy lions and the elusive cheetah.

The best time to go for a game drive is early in the morning and late in the afternoon, so we all wake up at about 5:30am. After having some chai, we set off for a game drive. We see giraffes, zebras, gazelles, warthogs, cranes, and a ton of birds. We roam the mara and as usual, Charles suddenly spots something. We approach what I think are a bunch of bushes. But as we near, I notice a lion. Actually, there are three lions and two baby ones. We stop to watch and take photos.
Then as we start to drive away, our truck gets stuck in the mud. We’re probably 10 meters away from the lions’ den. We can hardly get out of the truck and push it, in case the lions feel threatened and decide to attack. Another safari van notices us and tries to help. We attach a rope to the back of their car, but their Jeep just doesn’t have enough power. The impact of trying to pull us out simply smashes their back window. Other safari vans come to the rescue, but most simply laugh at us and take photos of us being stuck.
I make a joke that the lions have a buffet of international cuisine, as there are tourists from Australia, India and Canada. We laugh at our own situation. Finally, Charles manages to grab slates from the side of our truck, which we place under the tires to reverse out of the mud After the 20-minute fiasco, we decide we’re tired of this game drive and head back to the campsite for breakfast.
We laze around in the sun for the afternoon before heading out for a late game drive. Melissa says that she hopes to see a cheetah, but knows that there’s a slim chance of that happening. Cheetahs are endangered animals and there’s little in the way of conservation for them here in Kenya. But to our luck, Charles spots one in the distance. A cheetah is lying in the bush with two babies and gnawing at an impala carcass. Zarek comments that we don’t know how lucky we are to have seen a cheetah, but I’m pretty sure that Melissa and Holly do. They’re beaming.
Later that night, we head to the campsite and have the best meal we’ve had all trip. The cook Vince has made fried fish, chicken stew, cauliflower and rice. We even have s’mores afterwards for a little taste of home.

May 29: Masaii Mara safari

Kenya is known for its safaris and the Masaii Mara is supposed to be world-famous for spotting game – especially in July, when thousands of wildebeests migrate from the Serengeti to the Mara. Although we won’t be seeing any wildebeest, we’re all just excited to be going away for a relaxing weekend and amazing food. We’re going with the same tour operators who took us to Lake Naivasha, so we’re all certain that the food will be good.
At 8:30am, we all load onto the familiar safari truck – a monster of a vehicle that Heidi calls “embarrassing” to be seen in. The wind hit us violently in the face and we feel every bump and rock on the road. I regret not taking a Gravol in preparation for this six-hour drive.
By about 11am, we reach Narok, the last big town before the Mara, and have some chai. We eat a packed lunch on the truck and by 1pm, we’ve made it to the Mara. We waste no time and go straight for a game drive. Zarek describes all of the animals to us and I am amazed by our driver Charles’ eye in spotting animals. After a couple of hours, we go to the campsite, set up and eat dinner. It feels like we’re camping amongst the animals because we can hear the sound of hyenas at night and there it is pitch black. It’s a little unsettling, especially because the only thing separating us from the animals is a small riverbank. In fact, warthogs and gazelles are in perfect view.
I decide to sleep early, but I just toss and turn throughout the night.

May 28: Our third classroom and the end of the work week.

Today, we work on a third classroom, treating the floor in the exact same way as the last one we did. We’ve become so familiar with the process now that only one fundi, or local worker accompanies us. After digging out the mud floor yesterday, we spend today mixing cement, rock, sand and water to level out the floor and fill in the holes.
This floor proves to much more challenging than the last one because the underlying concrete is so weak. By 2pm, it starts to rain, so we have to work quickly to mix the remaining cement and rock mixture. We finish this layer but realize we won’t be able to add the other layers of cement and sand until later.
By now, it is pouring and we watch the school yard turn into huge pools of mud. I now understand what ‘heavy rain season’ in Kenya looks like. Lucky for us, Nathan comes to the worksite with his car and offers to drive us back to Transit. Four of us squeeze into the trunk, and the five others cram in the front and back seats. To our relief, the hotel still has electricity – which is unusual considering its usual blackouts in the rain – and we all take much-needed showers.
We couldn’t’ be more relieved to end the work week and set off for our safari in the Masaii Mara tomorrow.

May 26: The Classroom floor is complete!

Today, we apply a cement and sand layer on top of the floor we had cleared of mud yesterday. We work hard in the morning to mix the mixture into buckets. By this point, the process is familiar and we’re starting to feel confident about what we’re doing. After lunch, we add the final cement layer and before we know it, we’ve completed another classroom.
Because we work so quickly, we’ll be able to start another classroom tomorrow. We’re filled with an odd sense of both accomplishment for what we’ve done and dread over the hard work to come.

May 25: Begin work on a new classroom.

Today, we begin working on a new classroom for the primary 1 kids. The job will be similar to what we did in the other classroom, but we have to dig out the pre-existing floor. When we arrive, we’re told that we need to remove the first layer of mud. Nothing sticks to mud, so we can’t simply add cement on top.
As we chip away at the floor, a blanket of dust fills the air .We all cough as we’re covered in red soot. I tell everyone to take regular breaks outside. I think to myself that this worksite would never pass Canada’s health and safety laws.
By lunch, we’re exhausted. We take an early break and decide to let the sand settle. Afterwards, we pour water all over the floor. I’m not sure if it makes the job any easier, but at least the dust isn’t everywhere. By 4pm, we’re practically begging to go home. There’s still some mud on the floor, but getting rid of all of it seems impossible.
We all go home – dusty and exhausted – and decide we’ll tackle the floor tomorrow with more energy.