Jack and the big maizeplant

"Bexxxxi, Bexxxxi you bring for us another book!"
I'm standing in front of Standard four being threatened by a group of 8-11 year olds who want me to read them yet another story - typical! When I found a bunch of Ladybird classics on a dusty shelf I thought it would be an excellent chance for me to practise Swahili and the kids their English. I did not appreciate just how much they would enjoy it - I've never seen them so captivated before.
"Beeeeexxxii, beanstalk is what?"
"Erm.... unajua maharagwe? (You are knowing beans?) Like a tree for maharagwe"
(The class unite with blank stares!)
"Like maize!"
"Aaaaaaaaah.... Beeeexxii, giant is what?"
"Ummm like a man.... but big (stretching up).... si kidogo (not small)"
It hit me today that a lot of these kids won't have seen storybooks before - yet another thing i'd never considered.

I've been sitting in front of this computer for a really long time trying to decide what to write about, but genuinely all I can think to say is that these kids are brilliant. They're the ones that will bring about the change in Kibera - they just need to be empowered to do that!

Much love x

Unajua Kiswahli? Sawa – tutaenda pole pole? Tafadhali – POLE POLE! (You are knowing Swahili? Ok – we will go slowly? Please – SLOWLY!)

Clinging on for dear life to a strange man on a motorbike, bombing it down a dirt track road in rural Uganda at sunset – another priceless moment in Africa!

Late at night, looking up at a living tapestry of bats and fireflies, with stars illuminating a Lion King-esque landscape: I felt a million miles away from the noise and bustle of Nairobi. Uganda is simply beautiful. Though we’ve had to rush to visit all the wonderful people I met in the six months I was here – there is an air of restfulness which seems to saturate the rural areas.

Talking of wonderful people – Martin and Jescinta from Mbale are in a league of their own. Martin comes from a rural village up the mountain – Kikobero – and overcame huge challenges to get himself an education and lift himself out of poverty. He has now dedicated his life to helping those in his village – who are in huge need especially now as changing weather conditions have caused significant crop failures. Staying with his family in a mud-hut is such a privilege: for me there are few better ways to wake up than by the light of sunrise creeping through the small gaps in the wall! Furthermore, there are few more hilarious ways to wash than in a wooden shelter next to the cow shed: it’s terrifying every single time you see a giant eye looking through a hole in a plank!

The poverty in rural Uganda is very hard to compare to that in Kibera. People in Kikobero are in great need – as crop failures mean both a loss of food and income – and so many children are not getting an education. I couldn’t help but think though that I would love to bring a group of Kibera kids up the mountain just so that they could run around and go a bit mental in somewhere so lush and green – with no rusty tarpaulin or dangerous electric cables in sight. The more time that I spend with wonderful people living in such poverty, and meet incredible individuals like Martin and Bish – the harder I find it to justify the way I live back in England. The concept of ‘need’ has a whole other meaning here: when preparing for Kenya I felt that I ‘needed’ a mosquito net, x amount of clothes, three different courses of antibiotics to account for a variety of afflictions, a phone etc… In Kikobero and Kibera – ‘need’ applies to getting enough food and having somewhere to stay. We live in a crazy world.

I’m sad to leave Uganda for the second time, but it’s time to get back to the slum… can’t wait!

Barua kwa Museveni (A letter to Museveni)

Evans,
Siloam Fellowship Academy,
Nairobi.
15th July 2009

To the President of Uganda,
PO Box Uganda

Dear Sir/Madam,
RE: PEACE MAKING

I take this opportunity to salute you sir, I'm really sad to hear that you are fighting for a land which is on the border of Kenya and Uganda. I'm afraid of loss of people and blood in both countries, so i would like you to sit with the president of Kenya and discuss this issues and maintain peace, because people in both countries are anxious.

Yours faithfully,

Evans

Evans, aged 15, is cheeky, part of the 'in-crowd' and a very good dancer. He wrote this letter when I told him that I was off to Uganda for two weeks, and asked me to get it to Museveni. I reassured him that people would read it. It's a powerful reminder of the issues that Evans and his friends face: last year they were witness to horrific things in the post-election tribal violence, and now Uganda and Kenya are fighting over an island. Though the teenagers here are incredibly similar to English ones - they face such different issues.

Sawa sawa (It is ok)

Tuesday morning – the sun is high in the sky, mangy dogs are fighting to sleep in the shade, and thirty 10-12 year olds are crammed behind desks in a tarpaulin classroom laughing at the mzungu who’s desperately trying to teach them about reptiles: a snapshot of life in Kibera...

So today is Saturday – which means a lie-in, some pants washing, lazy lunch and a trip into Nairobi: and though it’s nice to relax, I’d be just as happy hanging with the young people in Kibera. We’ve settled into a good routine now: teaching a fair bit, but also helping with Bish’s microfinance initiative, and sorting out his paperwork. Em and I had a long chat last night – lying in our bunks – and we both agreed we’re incredibly privileged to be doing what we are. But that’s enough about us for now: I would love to tell you the story of the Bish.

The story of Bishop Stephen Wanyonyi Munyolo.

Bishop Stephen is a legendary guy: dressed in a suit, an Arsenal belt and skater shoes, he sits behind his desk and manages the day-to-day goings on in the school. Although he’s a chilled out guy, he’s pioneered so many projects in Kibera. Chatting to him and his wonderful wife Esther is always such a pleasure (though a test of their English and my Swahili!).

In 1992, Bish and Esther were living in their two bedroom house with six orphans. They couldn’t afford mattresses for the children, or enough food so they visited the Nairobi Provisional Commissioner who allowed the children to beg. Bishop had a vision to start a school for the many orphans and vulnerable children in Kibera, so started a school for their six: six months later this school boasted ninety students. No government help was provided so the school relied upon student fees in order to pay the teachers. When money is low the children have to go without food – as if the teachers are not paid they will leave and discourage others from working there. Indeed, on the day that I sat down to ask Bish a load of questions all of the secondary school children were off school as Bishop had no money to pay the teachers and so they refused to work.

In 2004 Kibeki came into power and authorized free primary education. This meant a large number of pupils left to commute to government schools outside of Kibera, The next few years were incredibly hard as Bishop could not afford to build classrooms or pay teachers. The landlords closed the school until they were paid and a number of teachers took him to court.

Now, Bish and Esther live with 72 children in the school. They face many struggles but are so committed to investing in the lives of the children and young people that live with them. The orphans are like their children. Bish told me that they’d planned to move out of Kibera in a couple of years but cannot now as they would never leave their children. We are so lucky to be working with them.

I hope that you are all well and having an ace summer! My phone was stolen in Nairobi so my new number is +254726321663.

Tu me kuwa tuki soma Kiswahili sasa mimi ni mkenya (I have had a Swahili lesson and that makes me Kenyan)

I’m sitting in an air-conditioned internet café with a coke, ‘A Whole New World’ is playing and I’m looking out over Nairobi city – and it’s beautiful, but somehow it’s a shallow pleasure compared to hanging out with some of the incredible young people in Kibera.

There’s an N’Dubz song that Em and I listen to most days called ‘Love for ma slum’ – and it really does express how I feel about Kibera. It is such a privilege to be working with the people we are, and it is with a real joy that I board the 14-seater matatu, pumping out R’n’B and reggae, each morning to get going. I wrote last time about Sloam school – the children’s home and school where Emma was due to be working: it turns out I’m working there full time as well for now. From the first time I went to visit it I felt a real excitement about being there, and when it turned out there wasn’t that much for me to do at the other schools I jumped at the chance to work full-time in Sloam.

As I briefly described last time – Sloam functions as a home for the wonderful Bishop Stephen and his family, 72 orphans and a primary school. Bish was prompted to start the home and school in 1992 when a number of people from his church congregation died, leaving behind six children. He has since started a primary school with 461 students, a secondary school with 69 and runs a micro-finance programme. The classrooms may be cramped – with children squeezing behind desks which are packed tight into classrooms – but the kids really do make the best of it and have such a hunger to learn. As the government does not fund slum schools, the students pay KSH4,000 per term - about £30. This is significant money in Kibera and many children are going without an education. All students must pay to attend secondary school – and in two years there will be no free primary education for anyone: certainly the Kenyan government is taking no advice from New Labour’s ‘Education, education, education’!

Every day Emma and I get off the matatu and sit on a rock catching some rays until a few of the boys from the school meet us to walk us through the slum. Though I feel chilled out walking through Kibera – we have had to recognise that crime is a big issue and two white girls walking alone would attract a lot of attention. The sound of reggae and little children shouting ‘How are you fine how are you fine’, jumping over rivers of sewage, trying not to tread on dogs sleeping in the middle of the street and pigs nosing through piles of rubbish: ah how I love our walks to the school!

We’ve got involved in a number of different things at Sloam– from teaching, to cooking, to administration: I’ve been helping Bish with some paperwork for a microfinance business he’s set up for Kibera residents – it’s complicated but it’s made my economics module this year worthwhile. But my days, I actually can’t describe how I love the wonderful kids and young people here: they mostly speak good English and so I’ve really felt able to talk with them on the same level. It breaks my heart every day though thinking about what will happen to them once they graduate from primary school: I was teaching Standard 8 (the 14-16year olds) English this morning and had a great chat with them afterwards – but it breaks my heart that once they’ve finished this year they have so few options open to them. The lucky ones will get sponsored through secondary school or find a job, but there are no guarantees for the others – there’s a big problem in Kibera with alcohol abuse, simply because people cannot afford education and cannot find jobs. What is so hard is that these kids are so intelligent, perceptive, funny and have so much potential: they work hard because they want to learn yet are given no opportunities that in England so many young people abuse or take for granted. (If anyone reading this fancies sponsoring a kid through secondary school – about £110 per year – send me an email at bexwiles@hotmail.com or text me on +254717511175).

The most surreal thing happened this week – one of the most prestigious secondary schools in Nairobi had raised some money for a charity that supports Sloam, so this coach of boys in blazers, ties and smart shoes turned up to have a look around. They were aged 15-17 and it upset me a bit top think that these smartly dressed boys had grown up about a mile away from the young people I’ve grown to love at Sloam – yet had so many more opportunities. The inequality between Nairobians and Kibera residents is I.N.S.A.N.E. Indeed, we were invited out by three friends of Sabina’s last Saturday night – a very successful businessman, an architect for the president and a very famous DJ in East Africa – and I have to say it was one of the strangest experiences of my life. Wearing my oldest jeans, a t-shirt from Primark and the same shoes I’ve been walking round the slum in, we were treated like VIPs – walking straight into Nairobi’s top nightclubs: where the elite party, and drinks cost the same as paying for a night in our hostel. As we were dancing I couldn’t help but look down at my scruffy converse - covered in mud - and think about how the cost of one round of drinks would feed all the orphans in Sloam. It was a fun night and Sabina’s friends were incredibly generous to us – but it’s not an experience I want to repeat any time soon.

So when we’re not working it really is a laugh a minute with Emma: I am so chuffed to be with her – she’s got so stuck into everything and is brilliant at the school. We’ve started Swahili lessons – which is ace, and we’re so loving the local food. Oh my days we’re so Kenyan! :-) It's been awesome - as last weekend there was a massive rugby seven's tournament in Nairobi and the Zimbabwe team stayed in our hostel: I got to know one of the coaches quite well.

If anyone fancies sending anything for the school in the way of calculators, stationary, textbooks etc… I can’t emphasise the impact they’ll have! In fact – our biggest struggle is trying to teach when the class only has three textbooks: very hard when you’re trying to do a comprehension! Also – at the moment Bish has no money to give the 72 kids in the home breakfast – so they have to last until 1:30pm for their maize lunch. I worked out that it would cost £150 to give them all breakfast for a month. If anyone has something to spare we would be eternally grateful. I appreciate that I ask for a lot: but as I’ve learnt from my Kenyan friends – closed mouths don’t get fed. Thank you everyone for your support – I hope you’re all well and enjoying the summer!

Mi mi si mzungu (I am not a mzungu!)

You know you’re back in Africa when the plane land and everyone claps, and then in the taxi on the way home the driver proposes!

It’s good to be back: looking out the window at Nairobi’s skyscrapers sitting with two lovely Kenyan ladies on the way to the hostel I felt immediately at home (just to update Ruth was no longer able to come and Emma postponed a week). Upon arrival at Nairobi International Youth Hostel (NIYH) I haggled with the manager over the cost of my bed and then grabbed a chapatti for dinner. It’s a unique little place – it’s fairly priced and so attracts a mixture of budget travellers and Kenyans. In the 8 days I’ve been here I’ve met so many wonderful and diverse characters: from Lucie – an incredibly independent woman who travels all over the world climbing mountains, to a professor at Wisconsin University who has such a heart for taking students to experience poverty in the slums. Staying in a dorm of 16 it’s been hard to grab a minute alone to take a break, so I’ve never felt lonely. Standing on the roof of the hostel the first night – looking out at a beautifully lit, and somehow peaceful, city of Nairobi I had such a sense that this is where I’m supposed to be.

The next morning I was met by my good friend Sabina – a streetwise and lovely Kenyan lady who was brought up in Kibera and has such a desire to see change in the slum. I thought maybe I’d get a chance to chill out and see a bit of the city, but it was straight onto a matatu (14-seater minibus) and into Kibera slum. Kenyan matatus are so pimped out compared to Ugandan ones – they’re covered in stickers and painted garish colours and the music is BLASTED out the speakers: I’m gonna be an expert on hip-hop and gansta’ rap by the time I return to England (saying that: it made my day this morning when Toto ‘Africa’ was played on the way to the internet café).

As I was walking up the hill into the slum I have never been so aware of being the odd one out: this is the first time I’ve been in Africa and been the only mzungu (white person) - I’m yet to see another non-Kenyan in the slum. People are mostly just curious, but the first time it felt slightly unnerving being stared at all the time (I have learnt how to say ‘I am not a mzungu’ in Swahili which always lightens the mood). Reaching the peak of the hill is a bit of a ‘whoa!’ moment as all you can see is tarpaulin roofs for miles! There is no sewage or waste disposal system so the ground is covered with rubbish – though as things are rarely wasted here there is almost always a pig/goat/dog rummaging around for food. I’m glad I packed sturdy trainers as there have recently been rains and this makes the ground slightly treacherous. Not all people living in Kibera are poor individually, but slum citizens lack many rights that other Kenyans take for granted. The government owns all the land and Sabina explained to me that they deliberately keep the conditions so terrible so that people will leave. The problem with this is that the people living there are not the first generation to be there and so really do not have options of where else to go. It’s the first time I’ve been in a situation of terrible poverty and just sensed an air of hopelessness.

I have been able to visit the primary and secondary schools that I will be working at. The government does not provide free education for slum citizens and so many of the students are sponsored to be there. I will be working with a smiley lady called Rose counseling children who have been abused. Rose is a warm-hearted friendly woman who I just want to hug all the time (though that’s not the done thing here) but she is one of the most laid-back people ever! It is going to be such a challenge working with kids who have experienced so much but I’m going to give it a go and try to learn all I can from Rose. Another significant challenge is that two days after I arrived half of the secondary school was knocked down: the government has decided to build a road through the slum and, as the school has no rights, are building it through the grounds. Although the road is needed, this is a key illustration of the lack of power people have here.

I was also able to visit the children’s home where Emma will be working most of the time and I’ll be once a week. This was an incredibly humbling experience. It is a home and school that have been set up by a man with a deep laugh called Bishop Stephen. The classrooms are incredibly small but the children are so grateful to be there. Many of the kids have been orphaned by AIDs, but Stephen explained to me that many came to him as they were orphaned during the election riots last year. I was able to see the bedrooms where the children sleep: this was crazy! A room maybe twice the size of my room at Uni was crammed full of bunk beds (each with three levels) with two children sleeping on each mattress. Many of the mattresses were incredibly worn out – but as that’s not the most pressing need right now - will not be replaced anytime soon. It was a powerful reminder that though we may be experiencing hard times during the recession – we still have rights, we still have a welfare state and we do not live in fear of tribal conflicts.

It has been a busy week: I have tried much local food, been practicing my Swahili and have also been organising spending a couple of days a week working with a human rights organization in a prison, though I am still waiting on that. Emma arrived on Sunday and so I will spending the next couple of days showing her around. I am glad to be here and am trying to fit into the culture as much as possible, though as I found on Friday night in a Nairobi nightclub – I will never be able to shake my ass like an African!!!

If anyone would like to write, my address for the next 10 weeks is:
Bex Wiles,
Nairobi International Youth Hostel,
PO Box 48661-00100
Nairobi,
Kenya

Much love to you all xx

Getting ready to go

"It is estimated that as many as 1 million people live in the 2.5 sq mile area that is Kibera slums. Most of these people lack access to basic necessities such as electricity, clean water and waste disposal." (http://www.kslum.org/)

It's just hit me that three weeks today I'll be hopping on a plane to Kenya to volunteer in Kibera slum for 10 weeks. As much as I cannot wait to be back in Africa, a part of me is cacking myself about the worries that have been in the back of my mind for a while: health and disease issues, violence in the slum/Nairobi (or 'Nairobbery' as it has been known), snakes and other wildlife, and transport issues.

However, I'm choosing to be chilled about everything for now: I'm heading off with two great friends from uni - Ruth and Emma (who are both also studying International Development) and from being in Uganda (see http://bexuganda@blogspot.com) I know that however much you pre-plan, once you're in another culture you really have to take things as they come.

I cannot wait to see an African night sky again - just need to get end of year exams out the way first.