Students
We are now in the second week of tuition (like summer school). It is so fun to teach, and have a class of students; it is also so challenging and frustrating. I think the most frustrating part is having so much energy and excitement about teaching and learning all these cool things about our world, and knowing that it is not all sinking in. But as Marit reminds me, this is the first time they are learning like this, perhaps the first time hearing some things, and like little kindergarteners, they’re not supposed to understand everything they are read in books, but by no means should that mean you don’t read to them. It may not be the first time around that something clicks, but the exposure to creativity, to science and writing… that is a small wonder we can rejoice in. The school system in Kenya is run by these small booklets for each subject with the same little drawings etc… All the primary teachers teach out of these books and there is no variety, hardly any imagination, story books or other resources or science classes. It has been so cool to see the libraries that have been started and how revolutionary and amazing reading can be! So far, with the help of people in Washington and others, enough books have been sent to start a few libraries in the local schools, and here on the farm. A resource library was created a few months ago, and is hopefully going to be a huge tool for all the seven primary schools in this district. The dream Marit and I have is to help the teachers somehow know ways they can use other books in their teaching, and to get the books out of the cupboards!! The saddest thing would be for libraries to be created and then be so strange and valued that they are not used kabissa.
Some highlights from last week included: learning the parts of the flower and dissecting some, planting seeds and watching them grow, going on a “field trip” to one of the shambas and having Fred explain how certain plants grow. Also we spent a whole class day learning about the inside of the earth and volcanoes, then going outside and making one out of vinegar and baking soda and soap and water; we buried the volcano in a bud vase at the top of a heap of soil so it was quite exciting, but the eruption was a bit anti-climactic. The other day I was so thrilled when I looked at all the kids in my class sitting under his own tree writing a story inspired by a picture they chose from a National Geographic. They are never ever alone. They eat and sleep and walk everywhere with each other, and so to see them alone for 20 minutes (of course this takes a lot of coaxing) is a beautiful sight. I am learning that I want to learn and teach about the things around us also, it is so cool to ask and understand why there is lightning and thunder every afternoon, what soil is made of etc...

Older Students
There are also other students here that are of varying older ages who are attending the Bible school that moved here last year. They are from all over and it has been fun to get to know them a bit. Koma and Daniel are two guys from Sudan. They met at a refugee camp in Northern Kenya. Over the school break Koma went back to Sudan and reconnected with his family for the first time in 16 years! Even communication was difficult during that time. He was saying that he was trying to get his birth certificate and identity papers there but it is so corrupt. “If you make any mistake on the form, the officer makes you pay and he pockets the money. They even can make $300-500 extra in a day!” I wasn’t sure if Sudan’s currency is also called a dollar, or if he was referring to the American dollar, anyways wow. “There are two governments really, the government of the hearts and the government of the people. But even if the government of the people is for peace and anti-corruption, how can we fight against the corruption of our country when the corruption is not out of the hearts of people? How can we fight against that? We need the holy spirit to guard and guide our hearts, to change our hearts. Otherwise we can just forget it and go back and hide in the bush like the last 20 years.” He said. Grace, my roommate from Rwanda has lived most of her life with her family in Uganda. Her father was killed in the 80’s and her brother was killed in the 94 genocide. It is boggling for me to be in the midst of the history I have studied, and to glimpse the heart of its effects-- I really want to know more.

Washingtone’s wedding
My friend Washingtone (Ben Moore’s roommate) got married last weekend! It was my first Kenyan wedding—So fun. He married a women from New Zealand so the mix of her few friends that came out, and Washingtone’s whole extended, extremely Luo family was so neat. At the end, his family did this parade of loud clucking and singing as they brought in envelopes with money, chickens that had squacked in a basket during the ceremony, and a coffee table over the shoulder…all as presents for the newlyweds. One of my favorite parts were the speeches. The parents and different friends welcomed each other into the family, people shared beautiful things about the character of the bride and groom, so you know that the marriage will be good, if you did not know one party. So that was a really fun day and ended in a huge downpour that filled the trenches!

the latest

School’s out for April
I went to Karunga’s closing ceremony. I must say that now I know what “too much of a good thing is not so good” means. It was so good that this ceremony happened, but it was so drawn out and like my friend Dismas says, “We Kenyans like to say the same thing in our own voice. Everyone just says the same thing.” It is true, people like to say the same thing using the beautiful melodies of their own voices  We sat outside in the shade, but as the speeches went on the shade kept moving. Everybody must have moved at least four times. Until after four hours, the originally organized seating looked more like a meteor had dropped in the middle and dispersed the people, leaving a crater of sun scorched grass in the middle.

The village Mzee (elder) was there with his whitened hair and chin stubble, and his cane, which, after seeing him dance and clap around—I don’t know how he has trouble walking. He was a very dramatic, humorous man and we all hung upon his words. Not because his age demands respect but because he has lived long enough to know life is to be enjoyed and laughed at. It made no difference to him whether others were laughing at him because he was making a fool of himself or because he was funny; for he himself was laughing at life. It seemed that everyone gave him their awe because they all knew he had earned it. He had been there in that time of life when decisions are serious, when troubles are heavy and now they let him be a bit free.

Mouth and Foot Disease
I vaccinated about twenty cows the other day! I was just watching and then David said, “Now it is your turn.” So I did most of the rest. The floor is covered with cows and manure and urine. You have to catch them first. They slap the back hip loudly ad say, “Shaw tzz tzz…” He whistles a slow note and slowly slips a noose around her neck, quickly pulling it and wrapping the end around the side board. She jerks in protest until two brown fingers snatch her nostrils to still her. I place my hand on her neck to check her reaction, then tilt the syringe toward her body and jab the needle into her tense skin. Sometimes she is still and I push my thumb down and the pink liquid disappears. Other times she whacks my hand into the board and we rush to resume our holding positions; A tighter grip, a racing dart for the dangling needle.

Passion Week
We celebrated passion week almost as an advent time for Christmas, but instead, a waiting, preparing, and thinking about Jesus’ life, death and resurrection. One thing I didn’t know was that the word passion also means passivity, it means the opposite of action. When I heard this, at first I thought, “Why would it be called passion week if it is a passive word?” It is also means fiercely emotionally attached, and strong affection for something. Isaiah chapter 53 is my favorite Easter passage. It explains to me why we call the week of Easter, “passion week.”

Egg Hunt
We had a hard boiled egg hunt on Saturday and then an egg eating party with everyone! It was really fun because eggs are quite a special food. It is hard to imagine, since we buy a dozen eggs for the same price as a cup of black coffee.

I live down in the heart of the farm, right by the dairy. I live with a girl named Grace, from Rwanda who just came back, so I have only met her for 2 minutes. I also live with the “cowgirls” from Nandi, Evalyn, Mary and Rose. They are awesome! We are also with Alicia from America, and a Karunga teacher, Timona. We all live in what used to be the chicken coop which they now call “the girls dorm.” We have a small yard where we have a cooking fire and a wash line. We have to go somewhere else to use the latrine and don’t have a shower, so we “basin bathe” in the yard when it is dark in the early morning or at night. I love living in this way, and learning to live a more typical Kenyan women’s lifestyle. My favorite part about living down at the end of the farm is that we are only a few steps away from the pond.

I have been here a week now, and still, I can’t stop being grateful that I am here right now. It has been the best time so far. I have several families that are my family and several new people that I am growing to know more. Everyday people say, “ Anne, why don’t you take breakfast with us tomorrow?” or “ Anne, you are coming for supper tonight?” or “ Anne come help me with the goats…” so I have been spending a lot of time working in the goat shed with Jane, cooking, talking to many, many people—renewing lots of friendships. One especially fun thing is that I live so close to the Wakhungu family, who have been great friends. The father, Dismas, used to tell me all the time last year that he was going to come running with me, but he never actually would. This time, he and his girls and I have a little evening or morning run everyday! They also teach me Kiswahili and I tutor them in math. Next week actual tuition starts so I will have the 4th and 5th grade class.

Cerebral Malaria
I got really sick. More strangely sick than I have ever been in my life, luckily the worst is over and I am feeling much better. I went to lay down one afternoon because I felt a bit feverish. A few hours later I was so hot and sweaty and cold. It got worse and worse very quickly but it was raining so hard I couldn’t tell anyone. It was the weirdest experience. I look back remembering everything, but feeling so different now, that I know I was in some weird half-consciousness. I remember wailing and uncontrollably crying and rocking back and forth for probably three hours. Later, my head hurt so bad, and I lost the feeling and mobility in my arms and legs. The ladies that I live with came home and tried to help me. They kept telling me to stop crying, but I thought I was going to stay paralyzed. I was in such a weird delirium that I remember not being able to control anything I was saying. It was as if I was saying exactly everything I was thinking and exactly how I was feeling, but being a helpless child. My hands were all stiff, cold and distorted as if I was born without the ability to spread my fingers. I made them walk me up and down so I could assure myself, that even if I couldn’t feel, they would still go. They went to get help and someone came in a car and brought me up to the Kruegers house. Jeff had to carry me inside because I couldn’t walk. Everybody’s voices were so distant and foggy, and I was saying nonsensical things, but I remember most of it, and remember laughing at myself for the things I was saying, but not being able to control it. I had a 104 degree temp and they gave me lots of drugs and wrapped me with wet wash cloths. I kept falling over in sleep but, I know that there were a lot of people in my room praying for me and taking care of me in the night. After my fever broke, I was in such a different mind set, and felt aware and sOOO much better! So now I am recovering quickly and sleeping a lot. It is kind of strange to get it when you have only been here a couple weeks, but it looks like I have all the symptoms for cerebral malaria. So I am so thankful that is over and that I recovered so fast!

Arrived!

I felt overhwelmed with joy at the Nairobi airport. I was back, I was actually thrilled to stand in line to talk to the visa man, secretly pleased to recognize words that some people were discussing the meaning of in the other bathroom stall and the whole ride into to the city I could not stop smiling; I just couldn’t help it. I am most struck by smells I know are exactly Kenya, but I have not smelled them in a long time. It is like seeing an old friend you would recognize anywhere. It is not that I know what makes the smells, I just know them. I know I smell it on the air, next to the latrine :) , in the dust, on my hands after I have washed with the “Imperial Leather” soap they use everywhere. Mostly it is in a hug. You may say, duh…that’s called body odor, but I suppose it is still something that catches my attention as distinct and welcoming.

I can hardly believe I’m here. I don’t think I actually believed myself when I would tell the little boys I would come back to visit them soon, or someday. I never imagined it would be now. Hallelujah it is. I stayed in a room across from the Easy Coach bus station in Nairobi. My room overlooked the street. I was told it would be very loud, so I was surprised to arrive in an empty street at 10:30 at night. However, I took an “afternoon nap” from 1-4am and awoke to a rumbling, honking, bustling, bursting city street which entertained me for the next couple hours. I really like cities in the morning—any city. Everyone’s off to work, I always wonder where they are off to.

It was a grey and misty morning with orange mud puddles. My bus left and I was settled into my usually silent trance of looking out the window. This time I noticed details, I was taken back into memories, and funny stories and conversations. I noticed the blue and grey striped socks of the school children, I could name some of the food growing inches from the road (How it tastes good with all the truck exhaust, I have no idea). There was a massively intense handball game going on. I saw dirty roadside markets with heaps of mangos and tomatoes, potatoes, a little pick up piled with pineapple. Typical clusters of shops with rusted tin ripple roofs and brightly painted, but washed out and worn walls sunk into the dirt everywhere. The names on the signs are always the best. “Eunice’s look pretty hair saloon” or “Nameless Inn” and even “Coffin shop” It is a little taste. It is so pretty and lush right now. Railroad tracks and power lines slice through the growing ground. The road travels up and overlooks a huge valley with a little plateau coming up out of nowhere in the middle.

I am loving being around Kenyan English. The phrasing and intonation is so different than American English. “ You want what?” “Eh! I’m COMing.” Everything is pronounced with all the t’s and dropped all the er’s and turn them into a’s.

Now I have arrived back on the farm outside of Kisumu and have spent my first whole day. I’m having so much fun. It was a beautiful day. In the morning everyone meets at the church for prayer. Then the kids go off to school and everyone else goes about their work. I helped clean out the calf stalls with Lynette. There are currently 8 calves and around 61 cows total now! So many! It is so fun to bump into my friends one by one at various points in the day and join whatever they are doing. I went with Milkah, and weeded in the maize field, washed milk pails in the milking parlor with Evalynn, and went to Karunga for the weekly mama health discussion group, which I will have to tell you all about later.