I have purposely hidden this post under several others to prevent strangers and casual blog followers from seeing it, but I feel compelled to describe the unusual circumstances which led us to the door of Isaac and Knight...
For the story, please see my facebook note: http://www.facebook.com/notes/jessi-mcgehee/ode-to-isaac-and-knight-a-supplementary-post-from-our-blog/10150321641185801
...And that is how we ended up as refugees in Isaac and Knights living room. Knight took a huge mattress from under her bed, and plopped it on the floor. It barely fit between the 2 couches and the table. We hung our mosquito net and relaxed onto the soft bedding Knight provided. I cant remember ever feeling as relieved and grateful as I did that night. I slept like a baby, even with Isaac coming in at 3 a.m. and leaving again at 7 (the man never stops working).
The next morning Knight made us hot cocoa and gave us some bread with blue band. Knight is a teacher and when we told her we were looking for a place to volunteer she walked us 30 min away to a school she knew of called Alpha Glory. She presented us to the principal, Elizabeth, who Knight warned us, "loves to feed people." Elizabeth seemed thrilled to have two new volunteers on her hands, and after some kind of delicious snack she led us to a room where the 6th, 7th, and 8th graders were crammed into 3 rows of desks. Elizabeth introduced us, told the students that I was going to stay with them for the afternoon to teach science, and left to take Danielle to the younger classes. I watched Danielle in panic as she left and then I was alone with 30 eager pairs of eyes on me.
I tried to act like an official teacher by writing my name on the chalkboard. Then I stalled for a good 30 minutes by taking questions about America and pretending to be friends with Beyonce and Rihanna so they would like me. When I had exhausted all avenues of small talk I decided to teach my class sciencey stuff, so I drew a cell on the board and wrote "prokaryotic" and "eukaryotic" and "deoxyribonucleic acid". They listened with rapt attention to my semi-lucid explanations of subjects I had just studied for the MCAT, which I later realized were a little advanced for middle schoolers.
After an hour and a half I ran out of things to say. Realizing I had been abandoned and Elizabeth was not going to come back for me, I tried to excuse myself, but instead of letting me leave the students demanded that I sing for them. As if making up a science lesson on the spot wasn't terrifying enough. I have to admit, I instantly loved these kids and wanted to oblige, but shyness won out and I told them I would try to find a good song for them later. For several weeks I distracted them by teaching them the Macarena from my mp3 player, and playing "Thriller" on repeat at the end of my lessons, but in the end Danielle and I got up the courage to sing "Row Row Row Your Boat" in a round.
Teaching at that school was a joy because no matter what I did, I felt like I was blowing their young minds. I brought my magic UV light Steripen to teach them about water purification, UV radiation and the ozone, printed out color pictures of the lungs of smokers, solar and lunar eclipses, and cataracts, and I showed them how I put in my contact lenses every morning. They LOVED the visuals. And at the end of every lesson we would break into 3 teams and play a game that quizzed them on what they learned.
I adored them all. I loved the boys in the corner, who were already trying to act too cool for school but couldn't help being drawn into the lessons by their desire to beat the girls at the quiz. I loved the giggly cluster of girls near the door, with their neat notes and their taunts to the boys when they were winning. And I loved the co-ed group in the middle who were often kicked out of the other groups for being too young or independent or quiet, but studied harder and got their revenge by winning most often. I liked watching their dramas and friendships, and the way the would cluster together like a pile of kittens when they were working out the answers to the quiz.
I called the younger class "Danielle's class" because they had an obvious preference for her and her math lessons, but I will never forget how proud I was when I managed to convince them that Danielle and I were not identical, and that the differences between her and me, and between me and each of them, were due to DNA. One of my favorite conversations went something like this:
"Teacher, why is your skin white?"
"It is because inside our cells in our bodies there is something called DNA that controls our looks and our skin and our hair, and my DNA makes my skin light while your DNA makes your skin darker."
"Oh...our other teacher said it was because you need to rub Kiwi (shoe polish) on your skin."
One smarty in the front row stayed after class to ask me questions about DNA and was thrilled when I brought him a picture of a double-helix the next day. Another day, Danielle and I did a joint art class with the little ones where we had them draw human faces on bodies that incorporated at least 3 animals. The results were predictably adorable. They had a little trouble coming up with their own designs at first, but it quickly became a competition to see who could use the most animal parts. Te over-achiever in the front row created a mutant with alligator jaws, bat wings, a lion mane, elephant ears, bird claws, giraffe spots, fish scales and a monkey tail.
At home we had "Lie to Me" marathons with Knight, baked cookies and learned to make ugali, played with a pair of incredibly cute new puppies that lived under the stairs, and made our cozy mattress and mosquito net fort in the living room every night. We also went dancing once, although Isaac and I were too shy to compete with Knight's rhythm, and Danielle and I still had a strict aversion to male strangers that had been magnified in India that prevented us front spending much time on the floor. Still, it was fun watching Knight dancing away with the Masai man who would occasionally do crazy awesome dancing, and the poor drunk man who gravitated toward anything female.
I don't know how else to say it: we lucked out big time. A lot of people have asked us how we go to unfamiliar places on our own, where we often stand out or don't speak the language and have no easy way to get what we need. The truth is we were prepared to be miserable some of the time. As Danielle told me when we left, "If we don't get trafficked I am marking this trip as a success. Everything else that happens is a bonus." So we are pretty easy to please.
But we have also been incredibly lucky and taken care of. We were faced with disaster, just like we had been in Mumbai when our original volunteering plans fell through, and for a second time we were taken in by strangers. There is nothing like putting yourself in a position of utter vulnerability to make you grateful for people like Isaac and Knight...and the Tyrells, and Pooja, and the Johnstons, and the Aokis, and the innumerable others who have taken us under their wings during the last 6 months. We heart-claw you.
Showing posts with label Kenya. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Kenya. Show all posts
2.5.11
Kenya: "Excuse me teacher, you're smart."
During our stay in Kenya we have been volunteering as teachers for a school grades 4-8. We showed up at the school asking if they would like any help from some volunteers, to which they answered yes and promptly took us into one of the classes to introduce us to the kids. "This is Jessi and Daniel (they could never comprehend that my name was a girls name) and they are going to be here for three weeks. Now we are going to leave one of them here to teach you right now."
Panic stricken Jessi and I looked at each other hoping that a plan was going to be written on the others face. Finding the same blank stare staring back, we looked to the principle instead who seemed to not notice our deer-in-the-headlights look and decided that Jessi would stay. I was then taken to the younger class to do the same. Neither of us had ever taught a class nor been called on to improvise in front of a large group before. It turns out, to spare you the details, that entertaining, I mean teaching, is about as easy as it is for a rock star to make friends in a crowd of fans. We couldn't have been cooler to these kids. It's possible many of them had never seen a white person before. They had question after question about us and America and the world and why we were so different. They wondered if I had bleached my hair, or used oil and if they could touch it, and why was our skin white. Needless to say filling time with these kids was not a problem, actually kind of the opposite. We had a hard time getting the kids to leave after class was over.
Loving teaching at this school was really a thing of triviality. There are pretty much no other options for emotional reactions when you walk into the room and everything you do is amazing in every eye, which is intently on you, waiting to love your next move. This is especially amazing considering I was there to teach them math. When I asked them if they liked math I got a yes, literally shouted from every child in roaring unison. As my hair settled back down over my shoulders and my jaw returned to it's normal position I confidently started in on my lesson about adding and multiplying fractions. I quickly realized that maybe they haven't seen any of this before. So I decide the best thing to do is keep going, right, and like any good mathematician would want, I give explains for all the why's and how's and give proofs. Fourth graders can handle that right? Well it turns out they could. These kids were smart. However, I had a nagging feeling that they were just excited about their new visitor from another planet, or country rather, and their seeming interest and feigned understanding would not be so present the next time around.
Not so!! The next day I showed up and had decided to do a simpler lesson but when I mentioned some of the concepts from the day before, they were right there with me answering questions which dazed them, so I thought, the day before. They had actually learned something from the day before. So I kept up with the things I was teaching earlier and started doing examples, to which they would follow and shout out the answers or method all together as a class. When I felt like they truly understood how to do it, I asked if they wanted to move on to a different topic. They all shouted "no, more!!" so we did more math, by request. This is a true story, I promise. Africa really is a strange and foreign place, but like many of the other things that are strange and foreign here, I loved this!!
During the weeks there were many hilarious and note worthy occurrences. While I was teaching the older class one day, I leaned over the desk of one of the boys, maybe 14 or 15, to check his answer. My hair, which was down that day, hung beside my head and draped slightly in front of him. Slowly and purposefully his hand reached out, like an involuntary reaction, and grabbed hold of a piece of hair. As soon as his hand touched my hair, it recoiled, as if his brain just initiated and realized what was happening. He looked up at me panicked, all wide eyed and apologetic. Everyone in the class started laughing and the poor kid was mortified. It was like those bug zapper lights, that draw the bugs in and by the time they realize what's happening it's too late. I laughed about this for days when recalled in memory. It was particularly funny because this was one of the kids who was too cool for school and would sit in the back with his buddies and try to do as little as possible in hopes of not being noticed.
In general the kids are totally intrigued with my skin and hair. One day one of the students asked me at the end of class when we had a little extra time if she could touch my hair. So thinking there is no harm in that I said OK. With in 5 seconds the entire class had swarmed me trying to fight their way in to touch my hair. OMG!! Hilarious, but terrifying. I literally ran out of the class room with my hair all a mess. The young kids would often try to find a way to touch my skin or hair when leaving or when I wasn't paying attention. I usually let it slide but on more than one occasion it became a frenzy in which I had difficulty escaping.
(neighbor girls)
Another one of my favorite occurrences is when I was with the younger class and I was in the middle of teaching when one of the girls raises her hand and says, "Excuse me teacher!". I stop my lesson and call on her. "You're smart", she replies bashfully. I am floored and at the same time I want to crack up. These kids don't hold anything in and frankly it's adorable.
Another time I came into Jessi's class at the end of the day, apparently just in time for the explanation of how Jessi and I don't look a like. I am not so sure they were convinced in the end but they did learn about freckles and seemed to like the idea of it. These kids make me laugh with their sweet faces and their endearing personalities. They are not shy and are ready to give love. They are excited about learning and interested in new things and I love it.
When we walk home from school kids literally run out of their houses to say hello to us. They are not scared of us foreigners or suspicious but overjoyed. They are loving to each other as well and we often find groups of young kids walking with their arms around each other or holding hands. The smiles on their faces reach a million miles wide and would cheer up an ogre.
There is one little girl in particular that is exceptionally excited to see us every day. As we walk by her house we can hear her squeals and screams of excitement as she spots us through the window. Within seconds her little wobbly legs come barreling out of the house while she screams as loud as she can, "HowareYOU! HowareYOU! HowareYOU!!!!!...." while chasing us for a while before getting reigned in. The days when she is already outside she comes running towards us with her friends all squealing the same greeting or yelling "Misungu! Misunguuuuu!", which means white person, to alert all the other kids of our coming presence. After we pass they keep yelling in the same spot, jumping up and down like little pumps on a machine until we are out of sight. It is hilarious. I have never seen anything like it and it makes me crack up every time. I see the locals crack smiles as well upon witnessing this extreme enthusiasm on our behalf.
The kids are my favorite thing about Africa, hands down, but this country is not devoid of things I love. With in minutes of stepping foot on the Kenyan Airway's plane to Kenya, I had already decided I was going to love this country. This was reiterated upon actually stepping foot in the country. The flight attendants were friendly, the food was good and honestly the people are beautiful. I think Kenyans must be the gods of beauty on earth. While in the airport we had problems with our bags, which the Indian airport workers refused to help us with but the Kenyan workers helped us without complaint or need for explanation. In fact it took them hours to do what it would have taken the people in Mumbai minutes to do, yet acted like it was their pleasure and kept apologizing for how long it was taking. I concluded that these people are sweet and friendly and willing to help. This has continued to be my experience almost exclusively for the entire duration of our stay.
Another thing I love about this country is their dance, music and fashion. They are bold, they are fun and they are art!! The music has a beat!!! Africans like drums, and I guess so do I. The point of music here is dance. Which brings me to dance. They dance with their souls and their entire body. There is no image or looking cool/sexy in which they feel obliged to adhere. It is all from the heart and if you feel the rhythm then you are cool. And if you don't, its ok, you don't have to dance. It's that simple. They get down and they get funky. Their dancing is art, not image, and everyone is an artist. Now for fashion. I can say almost the same things about fashion as I did for music and dance. Africans have the artist's soul in everything they do. They feel! And I love it!! Their fashion is bold and shapely. They love shape, patterns, and big things. I couldn't say I agree more! The women are proud of their shapes and are not afraid to emphasize them.
Panic stricken Jessi and I looked at each other hoping that a plan was going to be written on the others face. Finding the same blank stare staring back, we looked to the principle instead who seemed to not notice our deer-in-the-headlights look and decided that Jessi would stay. I was then taken to the younger class to do the same. Neither of us had ever taught a class nor been called on to improvise in front of a large group before. It turns out, to spare you the details, that entertaining, I mean teaching, is about as easy as it is for a rock star to make friends in a crowd of fans. We couldn't have been cooler to these kids. It's possible many of them had never seen a white person before. They had question after question about us and America and the world and why we were so different. They wondered if I had bleached my hair, or used oil and if they could touch it, and why was our skin white. Needless to say filling time with these kids was not a problem, actually kind of the opposite. We had a hard time getting the kids to leave after class was over.
Loving teaching at this school was really a thing of triviality. There are pretty much no other options for emotional reactions when you walk into the room and everything you do is amazing in every eye, which is intently on you, waiting to love your next move. This is especially amazing considering I was there to teach them math. When I asked them if they liked math I got a yes, literally shouted from every child in roaring unison. As my hair settled back down over my shoulders and my jaw returned to it's normal position I confidently started in on my lesson about adding and multiplying fractions. I quickly realized that maybe they haven't seen any of this before. So I decide the best thing to do is keep going, right, and like any good mathematician would want, I give explains for all the why's and how's and give proofs. Fourth graders can handle that right? Well it turns out they could. These kids were smart. However, I had a nagging feeling that they were just excited about their new visitor from another planet, or country rather, and their seeming interest and feigned understanding would not be so present the next time around.
Not so!! The next day I showed up and had decided to do a simpler lesson but when I mentioned some of the concepts from the day before, they were right there with me answering questions which dazed them, so I thought, the day before. They had actually learned something from the day before. So I kept up with the things I was teaching earlier and started doing examples, to which they would follow and shout out the answers or method all together as a class. When I felt like they truly understood how to do it, I asked if they wanted to move on to a different topic. They all shouted "no, more!!" so we did more math, by request. This is a true story, I promise. Africa really is a strange and foreign place, but like many of the other things that are strange and foreign here, I loved this!!
During the weeks there were many hilarious and note worthy occurrences. While I was teaching the older class one day, I leaned over the desk of one of the boys, maybe 14 or 15, to check his answer. My hair, which was down that day, hung beside my head and draped slightly in front of him. Slowly and purposefully his hand reached out, like an involuntary reaction, and grabbed hold of a piece of hair. As soon as his hand touched my hair, it recoiled, as if his brain just initiated and realized what was happening. He looked up at me panicked, all wide eyed and apologetic. Everyone in the class started laughing and the poor kid was mortified. It was like those bug zapper lights, that draw the bugs in and by the time they realize what's happening it's too late. I laughed about this for days when recalled in memory. It was particularly funny because this was one of the kids who was too cool for school and would sit in the back with his buddies and try to do as little as possible in hopes of not being noticed.
In general the kids are totally intrigued with my skin and hair. One day one of the students asked me at the end of class when we had a little extra time if she could touch my hair. So thinking there is no harm in that I said OK. With in 5 seconds the entire class had swarmed me trying to fight their way in to touch my hair. OMG!! Hilarious, but terrifying. I literally ran out of the class room with my hair all a mess. The young kids would often try to find a way to touch my skin or hair when leaving or when I wasn't paying attention. I usually let it slide but on more than one occasion it became a frenzy in which I had difficulty escaping.
(neighbor girls)
Another one of my favorite occurrences is when I was with the younger class and I was in the middle of teaching when one of the girls raises her hand and says, "Excuse me teacher!". I stop my lesson and call on her. "You're smart", she replies bashfully. I am floored and at the same time I want to crack up. These kids don't hold anything in and frankly it's adorable.
Another time I came into Jessi's class at the end of the day, apparently just in time for the explanation of how Jessi and I don't look a like. I am not so sure they were convinced in the end but they did learn about freckles and seemed to like the idea of it. These kids make me laugh with their sweet faces and their endearing personalities. They are not shy and are ready to give love. They are excited about learning and interested in new things and I love it.
When we walk home from school kids literally run out of their houses to say hello to us. They are not scared of us foreigners or suspicious but overjoyed. They are loving to each other as well and we often find groups of young kids walking with their arms around each other or holding hands. The smiles on their faces reach a million miles wide and would cheer up an ogre.
There is one little girl in particular that is exceptionally excited to see us every day. As we walk by her house we can hear her squeals and screams of excitement as she spots us through the window. Within seconds her little wobbly legs come barreling out of the house while she screams as loud as she can, "HowareYOU! HowareYOU! HowareYOU!!!!!...." while chasing us for a while before getting reigned in. The days when she is already outside she comes running towards us with her friends all squealing the same greeting or yelling "Misungu! Misunguuuuu!", which means white person, to alert all the other kids of our coming presence. After we pass they keep yelling in the same spot, jumping up and down like little pumps on a machine until we are out of sight. It is hilarious. I have never seen anything like it and it makes me crack up every time. I see the locals crack smiles as well upon witnessing this extreme enthusiasm on our behalf.
The kids are my favorite thing about Africa, hands down, but this country is not devoid of things I love. With in minutes of stepping foot on the Kenyan Airway's plane to Kenya, I had already decided I was going to love this country. This was reiterated upon actually stepping foot in the country. The flight attendants were friendly, the food was good and honestly the people are beautiful. I think Kenyans must be the gods of beauty on earth. While in the airport we had problems with our bags, which the Indian airport workers refused to help us with but the Kenyan workers helped us without complaint or need for explanation. In fact it took them hours to do what it would have taken the people in Mumbai minutes to do, yet acted like it was their pleasure and kept apologizing for how long it was taking. I concluded that these people are sweet and friendly and willing to help. This has continued to be my experience almost exclusively for the entire duration of our stay.
Another thing I love about this country is their dance, music and fashion. They are bold, they are fun and they are art!! The music has a beat!!! Africans like drums, and I guess so do I. The point of music here is dance. Which brings me to dance. They dance with their souls and their entire body. There is no image or looking cool/sexy in which they feel obliged to adhere. It is all from the heart and if you feel the rhythm then you are cool. And if you don't, its ok, you don't have to dance. It's that simple. They get down and they get funky. Their dancing is art, not image, and everyone is an artist. Now for fashion. I can say almost the same things about fashion as I did for music and dance. Africans have the artist's soul in everything they do. They feel! And I love it!! Their fashion is bold and shapely. They love shape, patterns, and big things. I couldn't say I agree more! The women are proud of their shapes and are not afraid to emphasize them.
Otherwise I love it here because it is full of many of my favorite things. There are donkeys all over the place and goats walk among the people in the streets and are almost as ubiquitous (two of my favorite animals). My favorite plant, bougainvillea, grows everywhere and in every color, including ones I didn't know existed. My favorite fruit, papaya, grows wild and is readily available. The food is phenomenal and it's impossible to go hungry when fed by Kenyans, since the rule is "Eat to finish", and that does not refer to just what is on your plate. They use spices plentifully and creatively and not hot ones, so it is always mild yet full if flavor. The country side is very much like the plains of Colorado and the weather so far has been incredibly mild and warm, despite that it is directly on the equator.
So to sum up Kenya, it's great!
So to sum up Kenya, it's great!
19.4.11
Kenya
It's even better than you'd think from watching "The Lion King." We are volunteering at a school where we teach science and math to 4th through 8th graders. And every day when we walk home adorable toddlers with huge white smiles trip over themselves as they run to great us with, "Mzungu! How are YOU?" We are contentedly preparing lessons, making cookies for our best friends here and gracious hosts Isaac and Knight, and working on our Swahili. We're determined to be fluent by the time we leave May 3rd.
Pictures to come.
Pictures to come.
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