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.