Traci in Kenya

Traci didn’t have time to write up a new blog this week, but I wanted to give everyone a glimpse of what she was up to.  Here is a excerpt of an email she sent to me that sums up what she has been doing; as informative, if not as descriptive as her normal prose.

Things here are going well.  I have been building all week and I am
happy that I can take a little break from it next week because my
wrist is a little swollen on my right hand from rolling and packing
mud so much.  I have little cuts and scraps all over my hands
too…hehe.  I think I definitely have some muscle definition in my
skinny arms now…hehe.  So, my classes seem to be going very well.
The camp actually organized a “nursery” class for the children at the
camps (3-5 years old) and the parents of the children are pulling
their money together to pay a teacher to watch them all day every day.
And then I will take 10 of them at a time to another classroom that
they made for me during my scheduled English classes.  I’m happy that
I at least “inspired” them to take care of the children that aren’t in
school, even while I am not teaching.  I will start next week Monday
and I am here in Nakuru today to buy more materials and what not.  I
also mentioned that I will be helping the 8th graders in their English
and maybe other school work that they have.  That is three times a
week in the late afternoon for an hour.  If I knew I was going to be
teaching English more than anything else I would have brought my
textbooks ’cause I don’t remember a lot of the rules already, but for
the little ones it shouldn’t be a problem…but the 8th class is
pretty advanced in English.

Last week I had the fortunate experience of taking a five day trip to Lamu, a spectacular island near the Somalian border.  After a grueling 17 hour bus ride we finally arrived at our much anticipated destination.  After sweating profusely for over 8 hours and having not taken a bath for two days, we headed straight for the shower at our wonderfully quaint hostel, conveniently located not far from the beachfront.

Despite the trash-lined shores, excessive donkey excrement, and questionable smells that seemed to fill our nostrils at any given moment, Lamu was well worth the travel.  Once you step off the boat you feel as if you have entered a different time period, for cars are a thing of the future, hundreds of ancient houses and buildings line the narrow alleys, mosques are scattered haphazardly around town, and donkeys are EVERYWHERE.  The people of Lamu are overtly friendly, to say the least; and although at times it can get a little tiresome to acknowledge every person that crosses our path, I can’t help but appreciate their curiosity and willingness to please foreigners (or persistence to earn a few extra shillings).  Although the people of Lamu rely greatly on tourism, there were not very many “muzungus” (meaning white people, and a name shouted at us everywhere we go) around the island, which made for a nice, cultural experience.  Primarily a Muslim community, most women are covered from head to toe and prayers are heard over intercom systems throughout the island 5 times a day.  And although a small island we found ourselves with plenty of adventures to occupy our time, this including a donkey ride to Matondoni (nearby village), sunset dhow trip, swimming in the warm Indian Ocean, kayaking and snorkeling (I am waiting to do that with Chaning), shopping in the many local craft shops, and of course just enjoying the relaxation of being on an island again.  Anyone visiting Kenya for more than a week should not pass up the chance to visit this magical place.  I hope to make my way back before I leave in July.

So, I am now back at the camp, trying to get back into the groove of building.  I also have high hopes for the upcoming weeks, for I am trying to organize informal English classes that I can teach for the children at the camp who do not have the means to go to school.  Patience has proven to be a necessary trait to have here in Kenya, so I am crossing my fingers that this little project of mine gets rolling soon.  I will keep everyone posted!

Lastly, here are a few things I have planned for the upcoming months:

1. I will be a bridesmaid in a Maasai wedding at the end of April )

2. Rainy season starts soon, which wouldn’t normally excite me, but we have no water supply at the camp and I need to bathe!

3. And saving the best for last, Chaning and his family are visiting in June!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Hopefully pictures of Lamu soon!

Traci wanted me to post a slideshow she made of her journey thus far.  I was going to write some commentary, but it is better to just enjoy them on your own. (click to open in a new tab)

- Chaning

From Movies

“It’s unfortunate, she is dead.”  I wasn’t sure I heard correctly, but as tears formed in our Salome’s eyes I knew it was true.

It was only 30 minutes earlier that we decided to take a walk in hopes of passing the time of the lazy, slow-moving Sunday afternoon.  On our way to the camp we bumped into our friend, Salome, who has been assisting us with building and communicating with the families we have been helping.  She decided to join us on our walk and take us to meet other families that we may be assisting during the week.  For a few days now she has been mentioning a woman that is very sick (HIV/AIDS) and is unable to build her home herself.  We all agreed that we would help her and her family tomorrow, but we had to make sure it was okay with them first.  We went over to their tent to meet them, but we were told that the building could not start until Wednesday because the woman (mother of five) needed to go to the hospital as soon as possible, and the preparation of the mud could not be done in time for Monday.  Salome mentioned to us that they did not have money for transportation to the hospital, and although they did not ask we wanted to help in some small way.  We all decided to contribute a little bit of money for a matatu ride for two of her children, as well as for herself.  How could we not?

We headed back home for the money and waited on the road for a matatu to come.  When it arrived, our friend asked the driver to pick the woman up at her home because she was too ill to walk.  By the time we walked over to the tent, the matatu was going, leaving us confused for we didn’t give them the money yet.  Salome walked over to us and told us she had died just then.  A crowd of people were standing outside of the tent where she lay, all expressionless and frozen in place.  One of her sons, in his teens, walked past us and sat against a pole a few feet away.  Not knowing what to do, we walked over to him and expressed our condolences.  The eldest son had just arrived a few minutes earlier, coming to the camp to help take his mother to the hospital.  We went over to him and gave him the money, hoping they could use it to help prepare for her burial and funeral.  It wasn’t very much, but we hope they can use it for something.

As we walk away, still in shock of the turn of events, I notice children on the road rolling their toy tires, laughing, yelling “How are you?” as we pass, having no idea of what has just happened.  The realization of where I am stares me in the face and all I can do to get through it is tell myself that this is their life, it must move on, and help where you can.

We hope to still help them build their house before we leave.

This is a story from Chicken Soup for the Volunteers’ Soul, but Traci wanted to share it because it really relates to her experiences thus far.  Also it is a beautiful story on its own.  Enjoy!

- Chaning

African Eyes

The voyage of discovery is not in seeking new landscapes but in having new eyes.

- Marcel Proust

Those eyes.  I’ve seen them before.  The pleading stare from the child on the TV screen is so familiar.  Her swollen belly peeks out from beneath the tattered shirt that she has long overgrown. Her face is soiled with a mixture of dirt and remnants of food.  The commercial begins to fade as I close my eyes. The emotions return, and I am again in Africa.

Those same eyes looked into mine just months earlier. It was our last night in Samburu, Kenya, and we had been working all day.  We had spent the week in this village through the CHOICE Humanitarian program working alongside villagers in building schoolrooms, making bricks, hauling dirt and teaching lessons in the schools.  The preparation for the trip had just begun almost a year before, however.  It was an inaugural student trip.  Sixteen students were chosen to travel to Africa.  The program emphasized “helping locally to help globally,” so each of us had chosen a place to render service throughout the year.  We each completed one hundred hours of service.  I had worked at a local elementary school helping tutor children and reading to them three times a week.  So here I was, an admittedly sheltered girl from Utah, in the middle of Africa.  In addition to helping with physical tasks in the village, we had also been involved in cultural exchange activities – learning about the Kenyan culture while they learned about ours.  Since it was our last night, some of the villagers had invited us to their homes for dinner – a huge honor – and we accepted.  As we reached the end of the long walk down the dirt road to their collection of huts, the sun was just setting on the African horizon.  We stopped as we turned the corner to see all the children of the village running toward us with wide smiles almost fighting to hold our hands.  One young girl in particular stood out.  She stood about waist high and looked at me smiling shyly.  She reached up her hand and took mine.  Wordlessly, we walked into the village together.

Some time passed as her mother prepared dinner.  It had grown dark.  We sat outside the mud-and-stick house that the little girl and her family called home.  It was a one bedroom hut that held the mother and her nine children.  The little girl could only speak Swahili, and I could only speak English so she looked at me, studying my white skin and touching my straight, blonde hair.  It set her on my lap and looked at her.  Her tattered dress was hanging off of her body.  She made no attempt to swat at the flies that constantly buzzed by her head frequently landing on her nose.  Yet, as I looked at her, her eyes sparkled against her beautiful black skin.  There was something there I had never seen before – a sort of genuine happiness.  It puzzled me.  This little girl lived in a house that barely kept out the elements.  The other villagers often scraped together food for her family when their father who worked in the city to support them had not sent money, but when they invited us to eat, they offered to kill their last goat to make a huge meal for us.  Of course, we refused and just told them to bring what they had, but it amazed me.  This family was willing to give up everything they had to feed us and show their appreciation for what we had done for their village.  They had nothing and were completely happy.  It was on the verge of tears when the music began.  The little girl slid from my lap, flashed me smile, and pulled me from my chair onto the dirt floor outside the hut.  Underneath the African moonlight with only a lantern to light the darkness, we danced.  I held her little hand in mine as the music filled us both.  We may have danced differently, but the feelings we felt were the same.  We were one – me, the little girl, the music and Africa.

The music subsided, and I relaxed back into my chair.  My new friend twirled my ring between her delicate fingers and laid her head on my lap as I stroked her soft, fluffy hair.  Her mother announced dinner and we went into the hut cramped together but enjoying it all.  They brought us all the food they had – a few chapatis and some sauce to dip it in.  They denied us nothing and kept nothing for themselves.  We politely ate and thanked them profusely for the dinner.  I was touched and yet saddened.  They had given up their dinner in feeding us.  The children would most likely not get to eat, and I knew that this wasn’t the first time it had happened.  I also knew it wouldn’t be the last.  We sat in the hut talking as the light of the lantern began to grow dim.  The villagers walked us back to the school where we stayed.

As I scooped up my little Kenyan friend when we said good-bye, I could see the sadness in her eyes.  I felt the same.  We had not spoken a word to each other, but I knew I was forever tied to this girl.  Her wide eyes stared into mine and I saw the dreams she held for what she could become.  I had these same dreams when I was her age, yet I knew my circumstances had been much different and the opportunities afforded to me much greater.  Coming to Africa to live and work with the people that make the country so beautiful was priceless.

Through the hours of service it took to get there and the hours of service rendered while there, I had come to see what I could become with a little work.  I had seen the hero inside of me – the best part that resides in each of us that just yearns to get out.  I had looked at service, at Africa and at myself through those African eyes – eyes full of hope for a future that I may not see, eyes searching for whatever good may lie in things, eyes that see a need with arms that reach out to help, eyes that have seen sadness and boldly dared to hope against hope.

The commercial ends and I switch off the TV.  If only everyone knew what I knew.  If only I could show everyone else those eyes.

- Stephanie Sheen

After the presidential election of 2007 tribal warfare brook loose,
leaving 1500 dead and 600,000 homeless, unable to return to their
homes in fear of what might happen to them.  Over two years have
passed and many families are still desperately seeking help to build
shelters, educate their children, and merely survive the harsh
environments they were forced into.

I mentioned in a previous post that VICDA has asked a few of us to
help build homes at an IDP camp and I have decided to take a break
from Maasailand and assist families at the Rongai IDP camp, located
near the city of Nakuru.  This particular camp has 244 people, most
still living in tents provided by the government in October of last
year.  For two years prior to that they were living in shelters made
out of whatever materials they could find, many not surviving due to
disease and starvation.  In December the government finally came
through with materials to build sustainable homes, but with little
manpower it has been challenging for many people to finish or even
start on the construction of their homes.

I am now 4 days in at the Rongai IDP camp and it feels great to be so
exhausted after a hard weeks work.  I and three other volunteers have
helped build homes for 3 families so far, all of which are elderly
couples who’ve lost children due to the post election violence.  The
houses are not made out of metal sheets like I expected, but they are
very similar to the manyattas, minus the cow dung (thank goodness).
They are quite sturdy, lasting for supposedly 30-40 years.  Since the
frames on most of the homes are up, we have been packing more mud than
possibly imaginable to form the exterior walls.  Despite it’s
simplistic construction, it has proven to be back-breaking, arm
throbbing, and knee aching work.

We all wake up to the sound of each other’s groans instead of the
goats we’ve grown accustomed to at Rosemary’s house.  And although we
can barely walk by the end of the day and are taking part in something
that should probably be featured on the television show ‘Dirty Jobs’;
I am happy to be here, working alongside these families that have lost
everything, but can still put on that bright Kenyan smile I have grown
to know so well.

Since Traci has varied levels of internet access/speed I am taking the liberty of posting some pictures she emailed me.  Just a small slice of her journey thus far, but they do speak volumes! Keep it up Traci! – Chaning

This past weekend I had the fortunate experience of going on a safari in the Maasai Mara. The scenery was beautiful and the wildlife was abundant. And best of all I was able to take hot showers every day! The animals were not phased by the 5 or 6 vehicles that surrounded them at one time, going about their business as if we weren’t even there. I took many photos, which is worth more than me writing about what I saw, so hopefully I can get to an internet cafe soon and put some photos up.

As much as I loved being dangerously close to lions and elephants, my favorite part of the trip was visiting a traditional Maasai village. Although I live in Maasailand, a majority of the families live in homes made of bricks or metal sheets. The lived-in cow dung huts, called manyattas, are further south and we haven’t had a chance to see them until this weekend. I’ve seen these villages on television and in photos countless of times, but to see them firsthand is absolutely fascinating. When we first arrived to the village we were greeted by a group of Maasai men dressed in their traditional garb, obviously well rehearsed in their opening act of song and dance. The men and women were equally beautiful in their vibrantly colored dress and beaded Maasai jewelry. At first the “entertainment” did seem a bit fabricated and commercialized for the sake of the many tourists that visit their village, but then we stepped inside the village walls and realized they truly live a life that needs no dramatization.

This particular village that we visited had 15 manyattas and had about 72 people. Typically, a village is made up of family members, so everyone is related in some way or another. Not to worry, there is no inbreeding. When a man finds a wife, he brings her back to his village and she builds a new manyatta. It takes about 2 months to build and they last for 6 years before the termites tear it down. In order to get a wife the man must give 10 cows to the woman’s family, although in the past they used to have to kill a lion. Times are changing though! Now most people know that manyattas are made out of cow dung, but we were also surprised (for some of us ’surprised’ isn’t the operative word) to find that the entire village ground was covered in it as well. Wearing slippers that day was probably not the best idea (luckily I could shower that weekend). Our guide, Samuel, was kind enough to take us into his mother’s manyatta, but it was pitch black so I only really saw what it looked like when I took photos. From what I could tell and what Samuel told us there were two beds and in the center was the fire where they cooked their food. There were a couple of windows for ventilation, only a couple of inches in length and width. There was also a small area for the goats, cows, or sheep to sleep at night. How all of that can fit in there is beyond me. The animals are also allowed on the village grounds, hence the carpet of dung. The children at the village were very sweet and adorable, nearly knocking me over into the cow dung to see themselves on my camera! Phew!! We ended our tour by being bombarded and pressured into buying carvings and jewelry. It’s a must to haggle here and I must say that my skills are improving, but it’s never an enjoyable experience. But in the end I did come away with some nice pieces and also contributed to their village, so I can’t complain about that.

So, if anyone is planning on visiting Kenya I would highly advise going to a Maasai village, but do go with an open mind and heart. It’s very easy to criticize and shake a head at such a way of living, but it is more of a choice than anything else. And although at times it can be heartbreaking to see children with as many as 20 flies on his/her face, they are happy and it has been their way of life for hundreds of years. Samuel mentioned to us that many Maasai people go to school and never return home, leaving their families behind. But for him coming back to live in his village after finishing school was a top priority; a choice he made even after seeing a different life style. He put it perfectly, “North. West. Home is best!”

It is day 16 here in Kenya and probably my 10^th attempt to write down my experiences thus far for those at home. As you can tell I have yet to be successful. Words truly fail to convey the sites of Kenya, from the breathtaking scenery of Maasailand to the poverty-stricken streets of Nairobi. There is so much beauty and sadness that exists in everything I see, to process such disparity makes me feel discombobulated at times. There are moments when I need to step back and remind myself where I am because quite honestly, the realization of being here for the next 6 months has not sunk in. Everything has happened so quickly, that although I have been here for a little over two weeks, I feel like it has been a lifetime. It’s hard to believe that less than six months ago a trip to Africa didn’t seem plausible in the near future and was only a hope in the distant, but I am now in Kenya, living in a country that exceeds all of my expectations.

Now before I go on my rant I must apologize for my lack in detail and any tangents I may go on, but there is just not enough time or space. I will do my best though and I promise to write more when things have settled down a bit.

I have been living in Ooloshooibor, Maasailand for two weeks now and it has been one of the best cultural experiences of my life. Long gone are the days of taking a shower, having light after the sun sets, and having the luxury of flushing a toilet, or even having a toilet for that matter. Like expected, I am constantly dirty, many times finding myself using hand sanitizer just for the sheer pleasure of getting my hands wet, creating the illusion of cleanliness. Why I left two bottles of hand sanitizer at home I do not know. Baby wipes are definitely something I did not bring enough of (and I brought a lot), but luckily I can get them in the nearby town. Although the lack of running water and electricity at the house may seem like inconveniences and setbacks in life, I am loving and embracing every moment, for I can finally say that I am in Africa!!!!!!!!!!

I and two other volunteers are living with a sweetheart of a woman named Rosemary. It is quite the full house of women, for she also houses her daughter (1 of 5 children) and three nieces. Her family is wonderful and have made us feel welcome from the minute we arrived. On top of being a teacher at Ooloshooibor Primary School, Rosemary has also established her very own preschool next door to her home. She is quite the inspiration. I hope to be able to help her with some of the expenses, such as building playground equipment or finishing the outhouse. The school currently doesn’t have an outhouse, so the children often times come to her home to use the bathroom. I still have to run some ideas by Rosemary, but I will keep everyone posted on what I decide to do. In terms of our living situation, it is quite the squeeze in our bedroom. Imagine three young ladies with more luggage and toiletries than necessary, living in a room with one double sized bed and one bunk bed (me on the bottom), only one feet between both beds, and all three with mosquito nets drooping over them giving the room a look somewhere between a romantic honeymoon suite and quarantine quarters.

The food has been quite satisfying and although it lacks a little in variety, I have no complaints. My diet basically consists of potatoes, rice, cooked vegetables, fresh fruit, and my all time favorite Kenyan dish, chapati. We’re going to be learning how to make chapati soon, so I will write more about that later. It’s an all carb diet, but for those of you who know what I eat back home, it’s nothing new.

I have nothing but kind words to say about the Kenyans I have encountered so far. You can be rest assured that if you visit Kenya you will always be greeted with a beautiful smile, firm handshake, and a jubilant “Jambo!”. Occassionally you do run into the overzealous salesman on the streets of Nairobi or the puppy dog eyed child asking for sweets, but it’s all part of the Kenyan experience and you will never meet a more lively and friendly bunch.

The most trying part of my new life has not been the lack of every day necessities or even seeing the tragedies of a third world country, but rather establishing my place and mission in the Maasai community. I have been working at Ooloshooibor Primary School, which consists of grades K-8. The students range from age 3 to as old as 20+. It is strange to walk into a 4^th grade classroom and see a 20 year old sitting amongst 9 year old classmates, but it’s a chance for an education and everyone has to start somewhere. The students are extremely intelligent, learning through pure dedication and drive, for they have no resources other than their notebooks and textbooks (some not even that). The classrooms are run in a very traditional teaching style, mostly lecture based and a majority of the teachers are responsible for a variety of subjects for a variety of grades. There class schedules can be overwhelming to a newcomer like myself, for there are 8 lessons in a day, 35 minutes each, and every teacher would agree with me when I say that not much can be covered in the time allotted. I have taught a couple classes a day, filling in for teachers here and there, but for many different reasons I have to say that my days in the classroom here are limited. The school can obviously use different resources and there are many opportunities for infrastructure projects, so I have decided to concentrate on doing what I can in those areas for the time being.

Coincidentally enough an NGO has donated about 12 computers to the community right when we got here, which has been the talk of the town since we’ve arrived. Unfortunately dumping a bunch of computers in the middle of the bush does no good if the people using them have never seen one before. Luckily we’re here to teach them! A couple of us have been giving computer training classes to the teachers and the community a few times a week, and even purchased an internet modem for them. It is a very strange feeling to be using the internet and see a herd of cows walking past the window. On the downside, having these computers have given a lot of us mixed feelings. Although they can be used to benefit the school and community, it really should not be one of the top priorities of the school. The money used to run the internet in the upcoming months, not to mention any repairs that need to be made in the future should be used for other things first. But they are here to stay and we’ll try to help out where we can.

Lastly, although I have not made any definite plans yet, I may be moving sites. VICDA has asked us to help in the IDP camps where they need help building classrooms and teaching/counseling opportunities are plentiful, so I may be there in the upcoming weeks. I will keep everyone updated. I have so much more to write and many pictures to post, but this is all I can do for now. Again, I apologize the mess of a blog! More on the fascinating Maasai culture, future trips around Kenya, and my work plans to come!

Hello, my name is Traci Yoshiyama and I am raising funds that will help me get to Kenya.  My goal is to raise $5,000 by the end of the year.   Starting on January 15, 2010 I will be volunteering in the Maasailand Teaching Program through the Global Volunteer Network. For six months I will be teaching in a primary school, learning Kimaasai (community mother tongue), creating community development projects, spying on Kenyan wildlife, and enjoying the sunny days of Africa.

Although many that know me have known of my persistence and determination to live and teach in Africa, most still wonder, “WHY Africa!?” My answer is simple. Africa is in dire need of well-qualified educators; people that are willing to provide new insights, but also respect their culture as their own. I want to be a part of that. I am also a strong proponent of multicultural education. Through my experiences abroad I will not only help those in Africa, but also provide my future students in Hawaii with knowledge that contains substance and a purpose. It is my belief that in order to teach anything worth remembering, we must live through it first.