Virtues

My host mom doesn't understand me when I speak. It takes an hour to get to town and sometimes another for a matatu to come. We don't eat dinner until 7, 8, or 9. I have to repeat everything, slower, wait, slower wait.
PATIENCE IS A VIRTUE.

The teachers think America is perfect, the students are taught in America anything is possible. I am not conscious of my skin color, I forget but am constantly reminded. I'm late - stop the preaching, teaching, conversations, stare, whisper, point, laugh. Muzungu. The USA is perfect. I am rich. Little boys and girls hold out their hands - asking for money. My skin color tells my story, speaks my history, tells of apparent wealth. There is no escaping it, no hiding it.
TOLERANCE IS A VIRTUE.

Nelson and I spend most of our time together laughing at each other. Lindsay has the best laugh, it follows her giant smile. The kids were suprised when I danced, sang, played with them. They laughed so hard. I always get caught running in the rain, through the mud. I tell my mom I don't like coke, she buys me coke. I can't understand Pastor Silas's jokes but I laugh anyway.
LAUGHTER IS A VIRTUE.

My students stand to greet me in class, erase the board for me, hold my things. The boys at the orphanage turn into my allies in school. They watch my things like a hawk, hold the students back when they run at me to see my camera, greet me excitedly everytime they see me. I drink a million cups of tea a day, eat things I would never imagine - I am a guest, welcomed and invited to everyone's home.
RESPECT IS A VIRTUE.

I care for those kids, bring them candy. Stick up for them in class. See the wrappers everywhere on my way home and pick them up. Shake everyone's hand and smile, "Hello, Jambo, Amosie" they are bound to understand one or the other. I bought paper and crayons. When I leave, who will help my host mom figure out or phone or remind her to take her medicine. I am welcomed, complimented, greeted, hugged by strangers who become friends and family. Invited for tea. Chelsey, you look beautiful this morning. My friends call to say hi and ask how I am.
KINDNESS IS A VIRTUE.

I love the mountains, the lake, the village. I love the hot sun and cool rain. The sounds and excitment. The smiles and kindness. The people.
LOVE IS A VIRTUE.

What I love. What I love I will miss.

I love falling asleep to the sound of rain on my little tin roof, the sound of my mom praying at her bedside, and the sound of livestock in the background

I love waking up to Nelson, milking the cows, to my breakfast of fresh fruit, I love waking up excited for the day, excited to be in the midst of hundreds of amazing children

I love walking to school. I love weaving up the mountain over the red clay. I love the view of the lake and the city below. I love the women who greet me while balancing buckets of water on their heads, the men who murmer a mixture of english swahili and lou greetings at me, the kids who run to hold my hand, give me a hug

I love the feeling of walking into a classroom, being called to come into the class, learning, growing, laughing, crying, playing, singing, and dancing with hundreds of kids each day - I love

I love lunch time at the school, the orphanage, and my home. I love that I have gained three pounds and everyday my mom tells me how beautiful I am becoming.

to be continued...(I love that my friend just called me and wants to buy lunch for me right now!...lol)

Life thus far in Kisumu

Hello all.

Yesterday was a perfect day. I taught probably over 100 of the primary school students the song/game "little sally walker" - those of you in STLF know what i'm talking about. I played, sang, danced, taught, then they taught me. I learned some words in mother tongue, some songs, games...it was a lot of fun.

Then I walked over to the orphanage for lunch and saw all of the standard 8 (eigth grade) boys were lined up waiting for me. They told me they wanted to take me on a trip! So we walked up and down, through the mountains, through farm fields and dirt paths for over 3 hours. They showed me the most beautiful things I think I will ever see. Views of the city, the lake, the mountains, giant rock formations, the river. They introduced me to friends. It was so nice.

People everywhere stared at me and 7 boys walking through the woods ...we just laughed. They are my new friends.

Next week, we are walking from the orphanage to the lake, it takes a full day. I hope I can keep up with them. I have no idea how they don't get lost.

Things are good. I can't imagine how I will leave this place. I leave in less than a month. I am excited to come home, but leaving my friends here will be the hardest thing I have ever done.

ps - my host mom met with her bank and got some information. I will forward it onto my mom, it's kind of confusing. I'll keep you updated.

love, chelsey

What it is and is not about (whatever "it" is)

(***There are two new blogs below this one***)

It's not all about HIV/AIDS, it's about worms and parasites, a decent meal - malnutrition, diarrhea - a common killer, malaria - a common killer, the common cold...

It's not about flushing toilets and running tap water, i laugh at the thought of hot water, it's about finding something clean and safe to drink, a place to dispose your waste

It's not about the slums and urbanization, it's about the fact that there are no opportunities in the rural areas, it's a flee and a migration for a job and an education

It's not about the corruption, it's about the disparity, the underpaid, the overworked, the cause of the corruption

It's not loitering, it's waiting for a job, a handout, an opportunity, a scrap

It's not despair, it's all they know

It's not equality, it's oppression

It's not "we do this because it's the best way", it's "we do this because it's the only way"

It's not government, it's an iron fist, don't breath too much, if they have water and electricity and an allowance for their dog, you can starve

It's not about politics, it's about which ethnic group has the power, which tribe has the money, the superiority over the other, it's about the 42 different ethnic groups in Kenya, each with their own culture, land, and language

It's not about owning land, it's about what land you were forced out of and forced into by the ones that colonized you not that long ago

It's not about developing the country for the country and it's people, it's about developing the country for the benefit of the few, the superpowers, and the superior

It's not about the truth, it's about ulterior motives

It's not about the long term, it's about the short term

It's not about accepting things the way they are, it's about learning why things are the way they are

It's not about what you need or want, it's about making the most of what you have, being resourceful

It's not free education, it's school and exam fees and uniform costs, the system of education is failing it's own students

It's not free healthcare, it's medication costs

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It's not what you see on the surface, read in the blogs, or hear in the news. It's what you live, eat and breath. The people who become your friends and family. The homes you live in. The stories you hear face to face. The ones you hug, think about at night, and worry about everyday. It's about the ones you can't wait to see and know you'll miss.

When I think about what it (whatever it is) about I think about the little girl that doesn't go to school but waits by my house for me everyday. She stands there and waits for me to come home so she can run to me as soon as she see's me in the distance and jump into my arms. We can't understand each other speaking but we understand each other different ways. I think about her - Lindsay. So tiny, her smile takes up her whole face. I can't even imagine the day when I'll have to leave her. Not only her, but the other kids that join her and run through the village after me when they hear or see me coming.

I think about my host mom. I think about all she has seen in her 60 years. She has outlived each of her children and her husband. She is so strong. I think about her kids. I think about how excited they were to see a camera. How curious they were. How we played with it for a whole hour. My heart dropped to learn that many of them were HIV+, many have no parents. Many are malnourished. Many only eat the meal my mom gives them and nothing else, because there is nothing else.

I think about my friend, our milkman and farmhelp Nelson. He laughs and smiles everytime he sees me. He is so handsome - I wonder if he even knows this. He doesn't know how old he is. How can you have no birthday to celebrate. He speaks the little english he knows while I speak the little swahili I know. I wonder where he will be in ten years.

I laugh when I think about the kids at primary school. I think about the girls that I tried to help carry water with, I wasn't even strong enough to lift the bucket to my head. I think about the day I was walking home from school, I had taught class 3 and class 4 the Old McDonald Had a Farm song that day...I was walking home and all of a sudden, I hear all of the kids banging on their empty water buckets and singing behind me, "Old McDonald had a farm..." I think about my class 5. There are over 65 kids in my class. All 65 of them squish onto wooden benches, and pass around pencils - they share because they don't all have pencils. 65 kids in one class. I think about all the other classes, how over half kids in the school are orphans. I think about how excited they are to greet me every morning. I think about how much they value their education, how well mannered they are, how hard they work.

I think about Walter and James. Walter is the caretaker at Ogada Children's Home and James is the cook. I think about all of our conversations, my failed attempts to help make lunch, how they rush to make tea whenever they see me coming. I wonder about their past and what brought them to Ogada.

I think about the teachers at my school. They work 7 days a week. I wonder if I am fit for this kind of job. They know every single student in their class - even with class sizes often over 65. They spend their own money to make sure students have pencils, medicine, paper, lunch, etc.

I guess it's about the people?

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Kenyan thoughts about America/white people/me

**there is a new blog below this one**

Living here, especially in the rural area - has opened my eyes to many of the sterotypes and judgements Kenyans have about America and Americans in general. Of course, not every single Kenyan believes in these things. However, most I have talked to, including well educated teachers, parents, and students as young as 3rd grade all have expressed belief in these judgements.

Here are just some of the common ones:
1.) All white people are rich and most white people are Americans, therefore America is the richest place in the world
2.) Poverty, crime, homelessness, street people, drug or alcohol problems, etc do NOT exist in America
3.) Everyone has a job in America, jobs are plentiful and if a Kenyan came to America, they would secure a job immediatley and become wealthy. When a student graduates from a university, they are given a job by the government
4.) Everyone has a car in America
5.) White people and black people do not associate with each other or get along well in America
6.) One American represents all Americans, one white person represents all white people. So, when people here talk to me about Americans or white people they say, "you whites" or "you people" or "you Americans" as if I represent all.
7.) You can do anything if you are an American
8.) Canada is part of America, Europeans and Americans are similiar in all ways, most Americans have been to every state and know people in each state
9.) The American government restricts how many kids each family can have, which is why families are smaller in America than in Kenya
10.) The whole country of America is very cold and the sun only shines for a little part of the day, the rest of the time is darkness

Sterotypes about me
1.) I am a missionary, I am here to volunteer and donate lots and lots of money
2.) I am not capable of knowing when others are talking about me in Swahili (which I do know) or knowing when people are trying to rip me off (which I do know)
3.) I am rich, rich, rich
4.) My parents and the government paid for my education and paid for me to be here
5.) I have never had a job
6.) I can't eat the food here
7.) I can't handle the temperature here

Other things that drive me crazy
1.) when my mom thinks that I should be treated differently or tries to treat me differently in public because I'm white.
2.) when my kids I teach and love and am so proud of disapoint me by asking for money and food after school
3.) when people stare and stare, whisper and point, but refuse to say hi or shake my hand
4.) when people yell "Barrack Obama" in my face where ever I go
5.) when the whole congregation in church turns around to look at me when I walk in
6.) When people ask me how I can help them get to America
7.) when people laugh at my accent, can't believe that I am not cold in 70degree weather, and continually tell me everything about my country, its people, and what it is like when they have never been there and probably will never get the chance to go there
8.) Lastly, they think that my common meal consists of snake meat, they told me they were taught in school that Americans eat snakes.

Kenayans in general are educated about news about current events in America are often on the front pages of their newspapers. They know how big America is and that the population is huge. They hear about the economy and the cost of living, as well as unemployment. How can so many Kenyans beleive these things. Most of the sterotypes are so unrealistic. It drives me crazy.

Feeding Center update

So much has happened since I last wrote, I don't know where to begin. I think today I'll write a few different blogs!

Due to the overwhelming response about my mom's feeding center here, I think I'll begin with that. It is so so so nice to hear that so many people care and want to help. When I briefly mentioned to Dorthy (my host mom) that some of my friends and family were interested in helping a little, she got down on her knees and started praying and thanking God, looked as if she was crying slightly, then started dancing around the house! So, she was very moved. She kept grabbing my shoulders, saying, "God has sent you to me for a reason!" I told her we can only help a little bit - but she told me even a dollar here or there for her kids is plenty.

So, I am currently working with her to organize things and work out a plan. Her feeding center is registered and recognized by the government and is the only of it's kind in our village. I am getting together information about the history of the center, how it runs, each child that attends, their age, wieght, hight, health and family situation, etc. I have learned that many of the kids are HIV+ and no longer have parents. I am also figuring out the best way to help and where exactly any donations would go. It may not be best to send dollars through the mail because of the risk of money getting lost and stolen. She has a bank in town and we are going to meet with them to see about wiring money directly to her bank account. We have agreed that if any of my friends or family decide to help, she will make monthly progress reports and will send them back to me. The reports will show progress with the kids, if there are new kids, if some have dropped out or died, if food prices are the same, etc, etc. So, things are getting worked out and within the next couple weeks or so, I'll update you all on the details.

Meanwhile, I think I am going to take a little of the money in my saving account (thanks to both sets of grandparents!) and surprise her by getting some toys and looking into playground equipment. Currently, the kids play with old tires.

So, that's about it with the feeding center. I have been taking a million pictures of the kids though and they are so adorable. Except the little little ones are terrified of me! They run away screaming, I must seem quite the alien to them. But anyway, things are good.