Teaching Robotics and Experiencing Hope

See full pictures here: Robots In Kenya Album

When my robotics prof told me I would need to take one of the Lego Mindstorm robots with me to Kenya in order to complete the homework assignments, my initial thought was ‘Do you know how little space I have to pack!?! Everything I need for 3 weeks has to fit into a backpack!’ But then it clicked. I realized I was going to places in Kenya where toys are homemade from water bottles and string, where soccer balls are constructed out of plastic bags wrapped tightly together, where many of the students aren’t wearing shoes, and the schools are miles from electricity. It dawned on me, that my prof was giving me the opportunity to a bring robot there!

Kinwe School - 1st Lecture - 7th and 8th Grade

So I took the robot home and learned as much as I could about it. I arrived at Kinwe Primary School (my first day to skip medical clinics in four years) and asked to speak with the 7^th and 8^th grade class. They combined the groups and I walked in with my robot.

The classroom wall was constructed of uneven slats of wood that allow the light to come through, as there’s no electricity in the building. The wall doesn’t quite reach the floor and it’s clear there’s been erosion. The ceiling is made of a corrugated roof with a few simple beams holding it up. There is a single chalk board at the front of the room and wooden desks that multiple students share. The students are wearing uniforms, though not all are wearing shoes.

Suddenly in the rush of clinics and other preparations, I realized that I forgot to plan what I would do in the classes. Luckily, there was so much to talk about, the speech came easy. I started with asking questions about space. What is different about space? It took some coaxing as they students were shy, and my questions were poorly formed, but we eventually understood each other. Gravity, no air, etc. We talked about the difference between rockets and satellites (rockets get you in space, satellites are basically robots that stay there). We talked about what engineers do: solve problems.

Kagwuru Primary School - 7th and 8th Grade

I eventually gave a speech (that refined with each lecture) ten different times in four schools, to 200 students ranging from 7^th to 12^th grade. Many of the students at Kagwuru Primary school, though in 7^th and 8^th grade were close to 18 years old. Some of the boys at St Francis orphanage were into their 20’s and persevering to be educated. The girls at St Clare’s were generally in age appropriate grades (per western standards) from 7^th to 12^th, though there were a few out of place.

This is what the speech evolved into: first an explanation of aerospace engineering. A discussion (above) on space. Then we got into the robots. I pulled out my mindstorm robot and pointed out the different sensors. I asked what the sensors on the human body were, and the students were quick to talk about our five senses: taste, touch, sound, smell, and sight. I explained the robot had two sensors. The first, a light sensor, had a nice program that the students could interact with, listening to a different noise depending on the amount of light detected. They especially enjoyed the different noise my hand made compared to theirs (based on the skin color). The second sensor, an ultrasonic sensor, was a great platform to discuss a concept each class knew well: speed, distance, and time. I drew a picture of the robot’s ‘eyes’ and showed a beam leaving one ‘eye’, hitting an object, and returning. Explaining that I know how fast the beam goes and how long it takes to go from one ‘eye’ to the other, the students were asked what the sensor then tells us. Some of the classes immediately said ‘distance’, but whether it was my phrasing or the fact that I was speaking English (their third language), some students needed help to come up with the answer.

Relationship between Speed and Time

We then went into robot controls and I showed them the motors on the robot. What are the controls for humans? Some said ‘legs’ and some thought deeper and said ‘muscles’. We then related the robot parts to human’s: computer (brain), battery (heart/food), wires (veins/nerves). The students were able to see the translation easily. There were some fun questions such as ‘how do you make it jump?’ Well this transitioned into my next topic: programming.

Our program...and re-programming

You have to program a robot to do exactly what you want it to do. I told a student to ‘come here’, making a hand gesture that in Kenya means come (kuja!) and looks a bit like a one handed clap. Without hesitation, the student would turn out of their desk and walk up to me, though the closer they got the more uncomfortable they became. I explained that in order for a robot to do what they just did, you would have to give it specific instructions. Rotate 90 degrees clockwise. Stand up. Walk 4 feet. Rotate 90 degrees. Walk 10 feet. Stop. I explained that if you told a robot to ‘come here’, it might come but that doesn’t mean it would stop! The students chuckled at the idea of a robot running into you and appreciated when I talked about how smart they were and how complex their brain to translate that ‘come here’ means so many things.

St Clare's Orphanage 7th - 12th grade (12th shown here)

Then we got to talk about autonomy. I especially enjoyed this part with the girls at the orphanage. We talked about what autonomy means socially, thinking for yourself and doing what is right, regardless of what people tell you. Also with the girls, I got to start the lectures with ‘so you know how boys are smarter than girls’ just to see what their reaction was, then of course would laugh or explain how untrue this was. It was neat being able to teach with a message, trying to instill confidence more than relay a topic. That’s the main thing I tried to do: inspire the students to continue to study, as many drop out after 8^th grade. To show the girls that engineers are in all shapes and genders, regardless of what they’ve seen.

One older student at St Francis (8th - 12th)

Back to autonomy. Robots have to be told exactly what to do, so we would do sample programs. This got the students on their feet as they input a 5 step program, and reprogrammed it if it didn’t do what they intended. It was really great when something didn’t work, because we got to stop, and try to fix the problem. You could see the gears turning in their heads trying to consider where the error was. I loved it!

That was basically the end and the talk ranged from 30 minutes to over an hour depending on how engaged they were. Some had amazing questions about space and we discussed the poor state of Pluto, losing its planet status. Everyone asked if I had been to space and I sadly had to reply ‘no, but my second satellite just launched!’ The questions were great and I told them how impressed I was with their attitudes and understanding. The differences between the poorer schools and the girls’ orphanage was vast, mostly in the comprehension of English, but also in the caliber of questions and problem solving. I asked the students to leave me their name and a thought that struck them. Here was some feedback from the children in the orphanage (spelling is preserved). I include them not to boast what I did, because it was so little compared to what people are really doing in the world, but mostly because I think their hope is encouraging. It’s nice to know that in a place that is generally regarded as sad and hopeless, there is so much enthusiasm and drive. I am so grateful to God to get the chance to interact with these students and if I can play any part in helping them succeed, I feel blessed. ** Also, thank you to my robotics prof for suggesting it and being so accomodating while I was gone. I can't imagine having missed this experience!

Neat to have a captive audience!

From the girl’s orphanage (St Clare’s):

8^th Grade

• I was surprise to see that it [robot] knows where it is directed and it goes as it’s commanded
• I would like to become an engineer so that I can have a robot
• It was a very pleasing time to be with you. I was perplexed to see a robat. It walks, sees, times, and also programme.

9^th grade

• I like it when I control its sensors and it obeys.
• Its actually amazing to see your proffesion in such a way. It’s actually motivating and encouraging me in my sciences.
• Actually it was an interesting picture to me, I wish I could remain with it forever, meanwhile I would like to become a significant person like you.
• I would like to be an astronomist so as to be using the robot. I really admire your career.

10^th grade

• I learnt that a robot uses auntonomy by a computer. My profession is to be a lawyer and if fells, an engineer.
• I learnt that a robot has a senser and it is used to command. Without a command, it can do nothing.  My proffesion is to be a pilot when it fails to be a lawyer. [** This made me sad to see ‘when it fails’]
• I learnt that the robot’s sensor’s can sense what is in front thus controlling itself by use of a computer. I think it uses time, speed, and distance. It is a nice appliance. My profession is to be a nurse if it fails be a PhD doctor.

11^th grade

• I have learnt a lot of physics and geography from you. [** For anyone who knows me…this is hilarious. I know nothing about geography!]
• Much of addition of knowledge from you. I will always whisper word of prayer for you [**Melt my heart!!]
• You made me feel special when we were with you in class. Thank you, Madam Libby.
• Really it’s hard to find a woman and expecially a youngstar like you working a big department.
• I can’t deny the fact that you are smart. Many people don’t believe if women can be like you but for my case I do believe. I am also taking physics as my career subject and I would like to be like you…I belive I continue with the learning of physics. I hope to know more and operate for my own.

12^th grade (they wrote full letters, so here are excerpts that make my heart melt).

• …This being my last year in form 4, I will work hard and by God’s grace, I will join colledge or university and I will be communicating with you through my email. I love you, Libby.
• …You are a good role model to me and I desire to follow your example… I am really working very hard since I know that success is reserved for those who will go through the fire, climb the mountains, walk through the valleys, pass through the darkest nights and laugh at the adversities of lyfe. I want to be hapy in future since happy people share two things in common. They know exactly what they want and they fell they’re moving towards it. That’s what makes life feel good. When it has direction , when you are heading straight for what you love. …In the course of the day when I will need to pray I will whispher your names in my prayer.
• Honestly, I can’t imagine how you guys get to come up with such huge machines that you take to the space.
• I am interested in knowing more about the space so I will make sure I get all these ideas either from my dear Libby or when I study mechanical engineering.
• What challenges do you meet everyday in your work? [and many more questions including ‘do you like single life’]

From the boy’s orphanage, 12^th grade:

• I wish to explore Saturn
• I almost change my dream after the robot lesson [His profession is ‘soldier’]
• You are smart. Technologically. [He wants to be a music producer/DJ]

Alone in an orphanage - Feb 23rd

Alone in an orphanage – updated picasa pictures https://picasaweb.google.com/mikinduri/2013MCOH

The last day of the clinic was a big success! In total, we saw 6,500 patients! We had a half day of seeing patients, broke for lunch, and spent the remainder of the day preparing for next year (inventory, etc). All of the professionals and volunteers then came back to camp for a quick celebration and unveiling of two plaques, dedicating the rehab clinic and MCOH offices. The night continued with a fierce ajuaa competition, in which Martin was the victor. (Cheri fought hard though, they finally called it around midnight when they continued to tie: 6-5 Martin).

The next morning, we packed into the combi’s, and said goodbye to mikinduri. One team went to Chaaria to deliver medical supplies. The other stopped by Kinwe (pronounced Kin-oye) to pick up penpal letters for Westwood school. Also while we were at Kinwe Primary, Jennifer dropped off a beautiful dress to her little Winnie, made locally, and I delivered a bag of goods to my mom’s newly sponsored child Valentine Marugi. Valentine was called on multiple times during the class I sat in on, and I just couldn’t get her out of my head. She’s a good student but too hungry to focus very well. Now that she’s sponsored, hopefully her marks will improve.

Then the team met up at St Clare’s and St Francis’ orphanage, outside of Meru. This is where Ted and I would stay for a few nights when the rest of the team headed to sweetwater’s game park. When we arrived, the Class 8 girls immediately came out and welcomed us, taking us by the hand and speaking very fine English. They showed us all of their rooms in their nice facility that is home to 320 girls, ranging from 5 to 18 years old. Some interesting posters on the wall advocated for peace in the upcoming elections and against tribalism and violence. Heavy stuff, I didn’t expect on the wall. Then we toured the boy’s facility where 200+ boys reside, from 5 to 20 years old.

Then the team left for Sweetwaters. It’s funny because as they were about to leave, I was starting to realize everything familiar was leaving with them. Ted was staying with the boys and had an agenda. I had no agenda, only a bag with my robot and a phone. I no longer had bottled water (serious fear), driver, translater, or friends. From being surrounded by the same people every moment of the day and a very ordered schedule, to absolute freedom and uncertainty, it was an unsettling feeling. That coupled with the sadness of leaving Mikinduri, the weight of everything that was accomplished, and the sad stories and cases sinking in, it became very hard to hold back my tears. I was suddenly terrified of being left alone. I knew the experience at the orphanage would be good, I just didn’t want to be the only one to experience it. With no other choice (as the combi was gone), I walked back into the orphanage and spoke with the woman in charge: Sarah, a lovely lady. She showed me to a room on the 4th floor that was basic with only a bed and mosquito net, shared longdrop toiled, and cold shower. However the bed (no pillow) was clearly in a better condition than my last mattress and everything looked clean. This would definitely do, plus it’s nickname is the ‘penthouse’. I then met with Madame Sylvia (every lady here is ‘Madame’) to arrange which classes I could talk to regarding space and robots.

With my teaching schedule in hand, I wandered up to my room to get ready before lunch. Before I could shut the door, the tears finally came. I had held them back the entire trip, but they came once my tasks were completed. I would like to say the tears came for the baby Jennifer, for all of the people I had to say ‘no we can’t help you’, for the babies who were malnourished and I just walked by, for the people who asked for money to pay for their medicine and I said ‘no’. I did feel sad about all of these things, but if I’m being honest, I was most sad because I was alone. I had surrounded myself with amazing, hardworking, dedicated, honest people, and suddenly after 17 days, I was on my own, completely alone. I felt the sadness and the tears, and I knew how absurd it was to feel this way, but I didn’t yet see the irony. Later, I realized that I was in an orphanage, crying because I was all alone. I still had a family, parents, and a home, yet I was surrounded by girls who did not have those amazing luxuries. They were welcoming me into their homes and I had to experience (in a very small way) what they felt before I could feel welcome.

After thanking God for the reality check I knew I needed, I wandered downstairs to find out if there was lunch. In a very laidback, African way, I had no idea when lunch was. I knew where it was supposed to be, it was now 1pm, but I didn’t see anything laid out. So, there were a few Americans that were just ending their trip that I joined for lunch. It was nice to chat about the school and their experience volunteering teaching for a few weeks. Then I headed into the classes to teach about robots. The classes went well and my main purpose was not to talk about gravity, rockets, satellites, robots, autonomy, or programming, it was to be a real example to the girls that women can do anything. In Kenya, sometimes I question whether or not this is really true. The women are incredibly strong, but they have to work so hard just to stay in school past the marrying age. I wanted the girls to know that there were women engineers, and if they have a passion, they should follow it. The classes were great and the students had articulate questions. We discussed autonomy (ability to think for yourself) from a social standpoint as well as engineering, and I enjoyed starting the class with ‘so you know how boys are smarter than girls?’ (at which point the girls would all look confused like I actually meant such a silly thing). Over the course of two weeks, I spoke to over 200 students from ten different 7th – 12th grade classes about robotics and they got to interact with a real robot! Some of the children didn’t even have shoes. What a crazy combination!

At break, I followed the Class 8 girls outside and we ate mangos right off of the tree. Yum! They started playing with my hair and asking many social questions about Canada. Then we participated in the way of the cross (stations of the cross, following the steps in the crucifixion). It was such a peaceful, simple, beautiful ceremony, I was satisfied that I made the right decision. In the simple, Kenyan way, the stations of the cross were done by the whole girl’s school, wandering around a field, stopping every 50 ft or so. There was nothing inside, nothing complicated, just wandering around a field with cricket-like bugs jumping on me during the service. Following this, I went with the girls to their class (8) and they went to get the ‘plaiter’ who would braid my hair. Note, I did not request this, but when 22 orphan girls are begging to do your hair….you don’t say no! While they were doing this, I showed them pictures on my laptop and we listened to music. I got the chance just to hang out with them and began to feel like a life-sized barbie. They finished my hair after a few hours and headed off to bed (with dinner in between somewhere).

The girls are very regimented. They wake at 4am to exercise and are in their classrooms for personal study until 9pm. The girls are in charge of helping with cleaning and each takes it upon herself to maintain order. The classes are not rowdy in spite of having no teacher around for hours.

The next morning I resumed teaching and headed to the boy’s side as well, then spent the afternoon with Class 8. We walked down to the market and I spent $8 buying all 22 girls sodas and some donuts, (that are more like sweetbread), and replacing the rubber-bands my hair needed to stay braided. The girls walked around demanding ‘non-mazungo prices’ and actually got them. They procured a bracelet for me that would have cost 400 shillings for around 80 ($1). We then walked back to the school and had a dance party, exactly as you’d imagine a bunch of 9th grade girls. Their dancing was incredible, but I felt like I was at a sleepover. It was so much fun. They kept asking for my talent, so I showed them some of the yoga and they gave it a try. I was sad to leave them, but I wanted to spend time with the older girls as well. So I gave my hairdresser (Elizabeth) a necklace, and said goodbye to my new little sisters. I moved onto playing cribbage and ajuaa with the 12th grade girls; both games had to be taught. The older girls are sweet, somewhat trepidatious about the future, as they are the first graduating class and feel high expectations to succeed. It was a wonderful evening of conversation and I even taught them a few bible songs, at their insistence. They made me promise to return next year and we exchanged emails.

Earlier in the day, I spoke with the Dominican sisters who live here, all in their 70′s. They consider their role to be grandmothers to the girls, and I found that so beautiful. Not only are orphans missing their immediate family, but they don’t get the pleasure of grandparents and cousins. These sisters described the little things each of them do to ensure the girls feel like they have grandmothers: follow up when they are sick, do arts and crafts, ensure they will acclimate to the real world. It was so sweet.

As I expected it would be, the weekend was amazing. I just can’t believe I have to leave tomorrow. I never imagined it could be this great. I’d like to think my role here was as a big sister, to encourage the girls that they can follow their path, be silly, play games, and buy them some junk food. I must sign off now though, as mass is either at 6am, 630, or 7, depending on who you ask. This is Africa (TIA)! I may not even know for sure tomorrow….. I will be meeting the team in Meru immediately after mass and we’ll head to Nairobi to fly out very early Monday morning, hopefully arriving late Monday night. (Though the last 3 years this did not happen). We will be soon back in the land of snow, stop lights, and just being another face in the crowd instead of those ‘mazungus’.

Too much sadness - Feb 20th

The clinics have been very successful. In 8 days (with only a half day left), we saw over 6000 patients. That is a new record! That’s 3400 in medical, 1200 in dental, and 1400 in vision. The teams have worked so well together, and considering our Canadian team is the smallest it’s been in years at a mighty twelve people, we are doing extremely well! That is, of course, because there are 50 Kenyan professionals, students, and volunteers involved in the operation and success of the clinics.
It has been rewarding to see clients from previous years, such as Purity, a woman who two years ago was being carried on her husband’s back with her baby on her own back. She arrived at the clinics by herself, walking with arm and leg braces. There was also a girl that came that I recognized from last year that just wanted new shoes. She had a prosthetic leg and her shoes had worn to nothing. It’s so nice to be able to help people in what we consider small ways, but actually make a big difference for them. Then of course there are the patients that were rushed to the hospital and could have died without some intervention. The reward there is obvious.
The best part of the clinics for me this year has been the attitude. The volunteers have even told us, that this year, we are happier. The clinics are more laid back. Things are being done efficiently without yelling or confusion. This I attribute to two factors: 1. The prep work that Martin, Lloyd, and Francis spent a copious amount of time and dedication. They have everything ready when we arrive. 2. The team leaders: Shawna, Cheri, and Jennifer. They’re fantastic! I don’t even need to be there to coordinate, and when something goes wrong, there’s no arguments, just ‘how do we fix this’? It’s like the clinics have been blessed. (I am worried I am jinxing myself for the last day, but we’ll see). Another nice part of the clinics is we have not had to turn many people away. We’ve been able to see nearly everyone, and only had to tell people to ‘come tomorrow’ on Wednesday, when we had over 900 patients already registered. In past years, we had to tell many more people ‘no’ each day, and that’s hard.
Now our evenings are another story. As soon as the clinics are over, people wander ‘home’, clean off their legs (or if they have enough energy, shower), then head into Mikinduri Market to shop, relax and chat, play cards or our newfound ‘ajua’/mancala game, and visit sponsor kids. On Monday, Jennifer and I were off to visit her sponsor kid in a taxi going down a dirt road, when I could honestly feel every blade of grass and misplaced rock that touched the bottom of the cab. The cars are something else. They have thick tinting on every window including most of the windshield. Very little is visible. People cram into the cars, (sometimes called Ma-tat-two-s), with 3 more people than is comfortable. They have dents, scrapes, and are worn. It’s amazing that the suspension system is still intact. Tuesday was a late day at the clinics, so I was late arriving home and just got started with inputting data from the forms before it was time for bed. Today was sad, so before I get to that, I want to mention how much fun Saturday and Sunday were. Saturday, we headed to Kagwuru and Thuuri Mountain, always the highlight of my trip. We had a 45 minute climb up a mountain and spent time interacting with happy kids. Renate and Gaylene both mentioned part of that day. My favorite part was walking into the seventh and eighth grade classes with my Lego Mindstorm Robot, and showing them how to program it. We discussed the relationship between velocity, position and time, what programming is, and problem solving. It was really neat to see the 16 – 18 year olds (yup, they’re in 7th and 8th grade) interact with something completely new. Even the doctors here stared, mouths agape, at my laptop when I pulled it out to show them results of the data. Technology is slow to come here. Iphones are just entering the market. On Sunday, I had more fun. A few of us hiked up the mountain next to our hotel and found a couple of cute kids to show us the way up. Hiking isn’t really a recreational activity here, so we were quite the spectacle. It only became more ridiculous when at the top, I wanted to take my annual yoga picture, and we decided to do a quick yoga class up there. The children joined in while wearing their polyester pantsuits and did a great job. We had a nice stretch and came back refreshed to start another week of clinics. Jennifer and I then went to visit Leanne and Greg’s sponsor kid Riann (Ryan). He is the sweetest boy with great English. After we passed along the gifts, he had a smile permanently affixed to his face. It was adorable.
Okay now for today. I find that while in Kenya, I have a mixture of conflicting emotions. I see people in poverty who are happy and accept life the way it is. That’s beautiful. The sense of comfort and acceptance, simple joy in life, it just seems so pure. It makes me think about how caught up we get in Western society with things and staying busy, when people here find joy while spending their entire day to get enough water to live on and wood to cook food. When I am walking down the street, I can smile at someone and they smile back, stretch out their hand and say ‘mouga!’ In Canada, if you try to give the same big toothy smile to every stranger, you’ll get pointed at. And it’s not just because we stand out here – people are friendly. They wait all day in the sun and under tents to be seen, and I can walk up to the last group of people waiting, say ‘Mougani’ and they all in unison respond ‘Kwea’ with smiles and laughter. I then apologize for the 7 hour wait many endured and assure them they will be seen, then thank them for coming. Can you imagine the riot in Canada if this happened? Their response is cheering and clapping. It’s beautiful.
Right…I’m stalling. So today I was in a cab with Jennifer on my left, a new mom on my right, her mom on her right, with three people in the front (where there are only 2 seats). We’re crammed into this car heading around a beautiful mountain with incredible, lush scenery. I nudge Jennifer as I notice the driver put a piece of Miraa in his mouth. This is a drug that’s a stimulant that is a leaf that men chew on. (Some women do, but it’s rare). The drug is legal (but shouldn’t be). It was not a comforting feeling. It was neat though to realize how much time I’ve spent with Jennifer because all I did was to lean into her with a little pressure than look at the driver, and she knew what I meant. (Scary).
The only sound you could hear in the cab was the suspension squeaking as we went over bumps with bota-bota (motorcycles) whizzing by on both sides of the car and people walking along the edge of the street. Oh and crying. This cacophony of emotions is indescribable. I was amused by the driver, awed with the scenery, soaking in the cab experience, scared by the drugs and crazy traffic, and had a profound sadness for the mom on my right, who’s two day old baby just died at the clinic. She was the last patient of the day and her baby, who had been delivered the previous day and was a healthy, happy baby, was no longer alive. The nurses tried to resuscitate her to no avail. What makes this hit home a little harder is the baby was the niece of one of our volunteers. It is unknown what she died of, but it is suspected that it had something to do with her breathing after she went home. Death is not dealt with in the same way here. After the baby was pronounced dead, she was wrapped back up in the blankets she came in with, sent home to be buried, at which point the family started wailing. It is unusual to see so much emotion and it was unsettling, perhaps moreso than the news of the death. People here are typically so stoic, even in sad or scary situations. The family wouldn’t touch the baby, though they realized they had to go home. Jennifer held the baby, and we climbed into a cab with the family as we headed to their house in a single, mournful procession.
I have not mentioned that the previous day, the baby was named after Jennifer, something she was so proud of, and now held in her arms. So sad. When we arrived at their house, our volunteer (who I was trying to comfort), said in a quavering voice ‘Jennifer, Libby, welcome to our home’. Soon after, she pointed out her mother and step-mother (as her father had more than one wife), as both were crying loudly nearby. The hospitality seemed so inappropriate in the wake of such sadness, but the volunteer was even trying to insist to follow us and buy us pineapples for coming. After convincing her to stay with her family and grieve, Jennifer laid the baby on the bed for the father to come home, and she and I left in the matatu. Such an odd combination. After we arrived back at the clinics, after a 20 minute drive, and wandered home, it was hard not to ponder how they got the baby to the clinic, whether a long walk by foot or they hired a motorcycle. It was surreal to arrive at the compound and find everyone doing normal evening activities and chatting. I was sad, but really more confused. Powerlessness is a tough thing.
There was a little girl that came in today that was taken to the eye doctor. She had burns over much of her body, including her eyelid, face, and stub of her right arm. As a 3-month old, her mosquito net caught on fire. Her family was trying to protect her from malaria and other illnesses, and yet she was still in harm’s way.
I don’t want to leave this blog with such a sad ending, because even though it was heartbreaking, it was a beautiful day, and I saw my Maker through all of it. So many people were helped. So many smiles were passed back and forth. So much was accomplished. And it was felt with peace in my heart. Here in Kenya, I feel peace. I feel as if I am in the right place, at the right time, and I just pray each morning to see God in the faces of those I’m serving. The simplicity of life here is beautiful, and easy to focus on. I dread leaving Kenya in a few short days, yet I feel that I can’t stay any longer. I don’t want to separate from my team as we work so well together to accomplish great things, but I’m looking forward to spending a few days at an orphanage without them. I can only describe it as a cacophony of emotions: conflicting yet they reside beside each other.

A day in a Kenyan School - Feb 14th, 2013

On Thursday, I spent the day at a rural Kenyan school. This is the first time I have missed a day of clinics in four years, but with such a great team, they didn’t need me there. Lloyd was filling in for registration and the rest of the group is a well oiled machine! I went to Kinwe (pronounced kin-oye) Primary School and sat in on Class 2 (Grade 2) lessons for the morning. The teacher was speaking in English during the English lesson, Swahili during the Swahili lesson, and Kimeru (local tribal language) during the social studies, maths (brits make this plural), science, and CRI (Christian Religion Instruction). Apparently each school is sponsored by a religion so all students are taught in that religion. The teachers were shocked to learn that you’re not allowed to talk about religion or even mention God in government (public) schools in Canada/US. They explained that in places like Mombassa where there are two main religions, the parents choose which school to sent their child to, to receive Islam or Christianity Instruction. I told them there’s this third new ‘religion’ that many people are becoming in the US and described atheism. They had never heard of it and I had to describe it a few times. ‘No God?’ they asked. I said ‘Yes, they believe there is no god and so they don’t want to have to listen to people who say there is’. Their response was ‘how is that fair? That’s oppression’. Geez – you know it’s bad when the Kenyans who have massively corrupt governments, school systems, and hospital systems are calling it oppressive. 

Anyway, the teachers in primary school (K – 8) are required to have a teaching diploma – that’s a two year program. The teachers with a bachelor of education are allowed to teach in secondary schools. That’s either a 4 year university program, or for the primary teachers looking to upgrade, they go to Nairobi (4 hour drive) during their holidays. There are 3 terms in Kenya with three weeks break in between each. The teachers who are in university spend 4 years of their three weeks off in classes in Nairobi. That’s more dedicated than I think I could be! 

It was a neat day because I spent breaks and lunches with the teachers. The school is set on the side of a mountain, so breaks are spent under a great tree nearby. The teachers bring over cardboard to lay on the dirt, to relax. There are 166 students and there are four buildings. The two oldest buildings were constructed around 1990 and somewhat dilapidated. The foundations are built up dirt so the floor is nearly level, though not even as there are bumps throughout. The walls are made with wooden slats that are varying thicknesses around 8 inches are rarely straight. This allows light in between the slats. There are a few crossbeams on the walls and the ceilings are constructed in A-frame with two sheets of corrugated tin. There are three windows in each classroom, 2 feet by 2 feet.  That is the primary light source.  The dark room is a stark contrast to the brightness of outside. There is one chalk board on the wall, the teacher gets two shelves in the corners of the room, each about 2 ft by 2 ft. One complains there is nowhere to put her book while she’s teaching. The students sit together on benches at long tables. 6 children per sides of the 8 ft tables. Some classrooms are slightly different, but all are equipped very simply. This classroom was the only one with a door that locks, so there is wood stored in the corner for the cook to use to make tea and lunch. 

The chats with the teachers are quite elucidating. They asked if I was married and I said ‘no thank you’ so they all laughed that I could be resistant to the idea. I explained at this point, I’m too busy to look for a husband and that I spend much time in different places. They didn’t understand why this would preclude a husband. I explained that in Canada (and US), most couples live together with their children. They told me that they often live apart from their husbands for years, coming together only for the occasional weekend. Many of their children were in boarding school as early as 4th grade. Almost all secondary schools (9th – 12th grade) here require boarding. They also explained that you can be married under contract. Both parties agree to be married for, say, 10 years, then go their separate ways afterwards. They asked if divorce was allowed in the West and I said it was and the rate was quite high. They said it’s not very high in Kenya because when two people fight, they often separate for a few years, come back and live together again. Also, there’s a new law in Kenya that if you live together for two years, the chief of the village has the right to issue a marriage certificate. Polygamy is common as well.

The actual class day was very similar. The teacher reviewed yesterdays material, presented new material in a variety of ways, using auditory, reading, recitation, and really had an interactive class. Only one or two children were not paying attention and the rest were extremely engaged. The biggest difference I saw was that when one child got the answer right, all the other children clapped; it was adorable. When the children clearly needed a break, the teacher asked them all to sing, and every child joined in!

The students for a number or reasons miss school, so as a result, In Class 2, there were 6 year olds, like you’d expect, up to 10 or 12 year olds. The teachers said there was a 17 year old student in Class 7 last year. After Class 8, the students take a test, their mark gains them entrance to secondary school or polytechnic schools for welding, carpentry, plumbing, etc. In secondary school, students are in Form 1 – 4, and at the end, they take a second test, where their mark determines whether they go to college for teaching, government, administration (secretary), nursing, accounting, etc, or university to become doctors, lawyers, engineers, etc. It is a neat system, similar to the British one.

After eating lunch with the teachers, a huge helping (2 – 3 cups) of beans, maize, and spinach, I went into the 7th and 8th grade class. They combined so I could have a science lesson with them. We talked about gravity, rockets and satellites. They knew very little of this. They had just gone over speed distance and time, however, so they had a great base to start. I attached a string to the wall with a small piece of straw around it, and attached a blown up balloon to the straw. Once we let the balloon go and all of the air is released, it acts a rocket and the children all laughed. We then hypothesized whether the balloon would be faster or slower if it goes up the slope or down, and while the students all knew the answer, they couldn’t answer ‘why’. In Kenya, the students are taught using recitation and repetition primarily, there is a not a lot of thinking at the primary school level. When I asked ‘why’, there was silence in the room.  After two long minutes, one student finally suggested gravity could be the reason the balloon goes faster on the way down. I was so relieved to hear the answer! The students though vocal as a group, are shy as individuals. I had each student assist me in different ways throughout the lesson individually, and many were very embarrassed, moreso than in an American or Canadian classroom. They have an adorable way of showing that they’re shy, with a slight giggle then covering their eyes or face with their arm or hands. 

Next we worked on programming a robot. There is an NXT Lego robot that I brought with me to Kenya. You can program the robot to do a basic program using the interface on the robot. We walked through the steps, letting the students decide, then I posed a problem that required them to change 1 step. It as slow, but there was definitely learning. It was great to work with the students on something I like, and be able to teach them as well. The situation was so different, I have not yet found the word to describe how neat but surreal it felt: most of the students were not wearing shoes and there was no electricity in the building, yet they were taking turns programming a robot and we were talking about space. Confusing, absurd, neat, different, blessed – there are so many words I could use!

We started a feeding program at lunch time there just three days earlier, and all of the students were thrilled to come back from lunch with full bellies. I look forward to seeing these kids next year as there were a few who were just too small for their age. We exchanged letters with Westwood Primary school in Cornwall, PEI, and I will return next week to collect the letters. The children were wonderful to be around and I am so lucky to have had the experience learning from the teachers and interacting with the students. It was a great day and when I returned to the clinics, I learned they saw over 700 patients! I should leave more often!!

Ramblings from Kenya - Feb 17th, 2013

I left Canada on Feb 5th and arrived in Mikinduri that Friday. Here are some ramblings about that first week. It's long. Sorry! Spending time online is difficult. I have done a few team blogs at: www.mikinduri.com/tripblog

On Clinics

So far the clinics have been amazing. In past years, we have had throngs of people standing at the gates begging to come in, but we didn’t have enough doctors, so we couldn’t let them. This year, there are a few people standing outside in the morning, but most arrive by the bus we have sent to the surrounding areas to get people who are unable to walk that far distance. We haven’t turned anyone away yet, and have ended the medical clinic by 3 or 4 every day, having seen between 300 and 400 patients! Dental runs until about 430 having seen 150 patients each day, and vision had a long day the first day, but every day since they finished by 4 having seen between 160 and 190 patients!
We have had a few emergencies, a few tragedies, and many great moments. It is great to walk into a waiting room with many people, flash a smile, and have everyone smile back with big toothy grins. This is not the same result you’d get in Canada. People would wonder who the crazy person is smiling at them, hoping that’s not their doctor. We gave away 3 wheelchairs to people who were carried in. Ted had to fix one chair up as the footrests had disappeared for one young man. He was 17 and his father had been carrying him for 5 years since he lost the use of his legs. We refer all of these patients to APDK – Association for People with Disabilities of Kenya, but were also able to help them in the meantime. When Ted raised the boy’s legs off the floor, he smiled from ear to ear! It was beautiful to see!

On Leisure

Some of the doctors and optometrists have been staying in our hotel with us and it has been marvelous to have them. They played a game called ‘ajuaa’ (spelling is probably way off) that’s very similar to mancala. Apparently the old men (mo-zae) sit under a tree and play the game all day very competitively. The game is a long wooden board with circles scooped out that hold little balls made of seeds. The object is to take as many balls as possible. The head MCOH person here in Kenya, Martin, is prepping for his time as a mozae because he and Cheri have been playing non-stop in the evenings. Cheri has won a few more times than Martin would like!

Our rooms must be mentioned. They are constructed with stone and grout to make different patterns. Inside, they are painted a bright blue, a color you would expect in Greece. They are 12 feet by 12 feet, including the bathroom. There is a small sink (12 by 6 inches) with only cold taps. The bathroom is a toilet directly in front of the shower and a spout half way down to clean off your feet. I must say I enjoy the multitasking that can occur in the bathroom. I can relieve myself while washing my feet and sometimes even brushing my teeth or others have boasted they shave as well. There’s a desk to work on, a small shelf mounted to a corner (12 in by 12 in) and a table next to the bed (12 in by 12 in). Very basic furnishings but that seems to be all you need. There are four nails in the wall in lieu of a dressr. There is a bed in the corner that has a 3 inch foam mattress. In past years, I have said the mattress is made of hay. I believe that now to be too kind as the foam has developed major grooves in the middle of the mattress where everyone clearly sleeps. I have found that if I sleep on my side on the right 1 ft of the bed, I cannot feel the wooden slats on my back. These mattresses are now two years old so depreciation is expected, it’s just hilarious to hear about people complaining in the morning that they are ‘rolling’ into the groove in the middle of the night. 

Besides the bed, my least favorite thing about the trip is doing laundry. (Well I dislike it in Canada too, but especially in Kenya). Here you have to wash it by hand. Everything is dirty the first time you wear it, and by that, I mean it’s covered in dirt. So I brush the dirt off and wear it a few more times before resigning myself to cleaning it. I can last until my socks or underwear runs out. I have one pair of socks left….tomorrow is the day. 

A neat thing about the trip is that everyone’s personalities are exaggerated. Living with the same people for 3 weeks, you learn a lot about them. People who are sarcastic seem to become extremely sarcastic in the evenings after a long day of clinics. People who are happy just get happier throughout the day, and the quiet people are still quiet (they have a hard time trying to get a word in edge-wise). It’s a lovely environment to be in with lots of great people that you learn so much about. The time is long enough that you recognize people’s flaws, and they start to get on your nerves, until it turns into an endearing quality. (That was all in the first 10 days….the second half is starting so I’ll let you know as next evolution as it happens). 

On Birth

One day at the clinics, as I was walking to speak with one of the drivers, a Kenyan nurse was standing outside the maternity ward and said there was a birth occurring. Previously team-members witnessed a birth, so I asked I could go in. The nurse poked her head in the room and asked the ‘sister’ (that’s a friendly way of calling someone of a similar age) who was giving birth, and she agreed. Obviously, don’t read on if you do not want to be grossed out. I walked in and on this metal table, there was a girl of around 20 years old who looked 6 months pregnant and you could see something ‘crowning’. I say something not a baby because it was clearly a sac or something. Anyway I’ll spare you the details but it was pretty gross. Cool, neat, but gross. There was blood all over the metal table. The nurse was wearing a disposable apron over her clothes. When the ‘sister’ was pushing, she was instructed to grab her legs and keep her head elevated. Five minutes later, the baby slid out. Sylvia (the ‘sister’) was so strong, she never screamed once and barely uttered a noise. It took two long seconds, but the little girl let out a nice cry. She is a healthy 3.2 kg, Sylvia’s first. The baby has a head of curly black hair and was covered in a thick waxy substance. The nurses didn’t really wash this off, just cleared the face and then swaddled the baby.  The nurse then pushed Sylvia’s stomach to finish the birth and the mom rolled over to rest. The baby was swaddled and laid nearby. When relaying this story later, someone asked me if it was amazing – suddenly something was alive, but honestly it wasn’t that incredible. It seemed like such a mechanical process to the nurse, mom, and even the baby, that it was just a part of life, same as any other procedure. There wasn’t that much joy or excitement, really very little emotion in the room. Plus, if you believe birth begins at conception, the miracle is earlier. It was a relief to hear the baby cry, but I believe it was as much a person only minutes before. Jennifer came in just as the baby was being weighed. I thanked the mom, took a picture of the baby, and Jennifer and I returned later with a nice quilt and stuffed animal for the child. It was a neat experience but not nearly as traumatic as I expected it to be. However, with bodily fluids everywhere, it was as gross as I figured it would be. Funny thing about Kenya, it was somehow ordinary: I went from walking up to talk to driver, to see a new life, to going back to talk to the driver in a span of 10 minutes. Huh.

The Calm Before the Storm – Friday Feb 8, 2013

Our first morning in Nairobi came only 5 hours after the last day ended, but you would never know the night was short from the excitement at the breakfast table. Our beloved Dr Rosie from last year’s clinics came to say hello as she is unable to join us for the rest of the clinics. Getting ready that morning, I was reminded that the danger is in the familiar; you can’t drink the water coming for the tap, or even use it to brush your teeth, even though it looks innocuous. The shower, though identical to our showers at home, gave me a false sense of security. I turned the hot water on and immediately the stream of water that came out was near boiling. After a few attempts to turn the spout off and cowering in pain, I finally covered my arm in a towel and completed the task. My arm was red like I had a sunburn and was just as painful.

Our team was on the road by 9am and had two surprised ahead. We went to a giraffe feeding center, where just as it sounds, the team got to feed giraffes. People were surprised with how black, long, and slimy the tongues were, and Cheri left with a bit more than a kiss. Then onto the Elephant Orphanage where there were 20+ young elephants in a pen only feet from us! We got back in our combis (a combination safari vehicle and 9 seater van) and headed past Embu to Castle Forest Lodge, where we would stay for the night.
Along the drive, the team was struck by many differences. Gaylene was astounded by the amazing scenery. We were in a particularly lush part of Africa where tea, coffee, rice and fruits are grown. There are factories and many jobs. Galene described it as as a ‘tropical, lush area, so serene’. The soil is red like on PEI, but Jennifer notes that it’s redder than our soil. We driving on a divided highway that had speed bumps every few miles followed by a cross-walk.

We passed buildings similar to stripmalls, with butchers and chemists (pharamacy). Each business is slim and long, bunched together and constructed out of quarry stone rock with a tin, corrugated roof. Each buiness is painted bright, brilliant colors advertising Huggies, Tusker (beer), Safaricom (cell phone) and more, creating a collage effect. Apparently, the product is sold within and pays for the paint on the building. We passed outdoor markets selling rows of unblemished fruit, offering carpentry services, selling mattresses, welding, etc. One person we passed crushed rocks by hand for a living, turning it into gravel. He makes less than $2 a day. A two lane road is shared by oxen carts and two directions of traffic, as well as people walking along the side. The road has a ditch on either side that’s full of different plants, meant for the animals to feed on. A team-member noted that every inch of space is used.

Joseph enjoyed the front seat for the 3 hour drive and described the traffic as ‘different than at home, but it worked. There seem to be no rules to the road, but people just drive’ He said he was never nervous as we passed trucks with traffic oncoming, but he wouldn’t want to be the driver. Our drivers are professional guides through a trusted tourist company. They are part of our team and worked harder than we do most days. They earned certificates and diplomas to have the position that they do, and we trust them implicitly. They have all the answers to our questions, such as ‘Benson, how many provinces are there?’ Followed by ‘8 provinces and 42 tribes’. We are grateful to them as they are polite, patient, and so informative.
We stopped at a fruit stand for lunch and enjoyed mangos, bananas, and thorny pumpkin that tasted like a sweet cucumber. The fruit is so fresh and tastes so much better than at home. The skin peels off mangos with ease here.

The countryside described here is very different from the city. The first thing Jennifer noticed was the billboards. They’re huge compared to at home! Amy, a veteran of Kenya, said it felt like she was returning home. The only difference is that this time she had no culture shock when she arrived, so she ‘could see the little differences instead of being stunned. Everything seems normal’. The one thing that did get her attention was the slums that we drove by at one point. She ‘knew the slums were there, but had never seen them’. Urban poverty in Nairobi and Mombasa is much too prevalent and is so different that the rural poverty we’re exposed to in Mikinduri.

Allison, also a veteran of Kenya, described her return as normal, but she had a great big grin on her face while she said it. She said fondly that the smell of Kenya is smokey – from all of the wood fires in the huts.
Gaylene added that already we have a sense of how hard working the people are. We couldn’t carry the loads the women do. They’re so hard working and resilient. The amount of walking they do is amazing. They walk for miles. We passed ladies carrying rice bags that weighed more than 100 lbs (easily) and carrying a great bundle of 6ft long tree trunks.

We stayed for the night at Castle Forest Lodge, a beautiful serene spot to rest before the activity of the next few weeks. Team members enjoyed chapatti bread with supper, curry for a late lunch, and even a fried banana with whip cream for dessert! There were a few tuskers (beer) to be seen as well. The team got to see a nearby waterfall. ‘The greenery was thick and there were many varieties of trees. The water was gushing and the sound of it was incredible ‘ (Gaylene). An elephant even graced us with a visit in the valley our hotel!

Everyone had a nice rest and was ready to head to Mikinduri. Our next blog will have stories of children and our arrival at the hotel!

Arrival In Kenya – Thursday, February 7, 2013

It is said that blondes burn easily in the sun. This is something I’m acutely aware of and even end up applying sunscreen hourly, towards the end of the clinics when my poor Irish skin has given up trying to defend itself. I had no idea I would get a burn before breakfast on day 1. That is new, but we’ll get to that.
So to start, everyone has arrived safely. We are a team of 12, and I won’t call us ragtag because everyone here is motivated. You can see the excitement in the team and desire to make a difference. Five of us flew from Charlottetown, all the way to the big metropolis of Halifax. (To those of you in Texas, when you compare airport sizes, that’s like starting out in San Angelo and your first connection is in San Antonio. Why San Angelo instead of Dallas or Austin, well we’re still trying to figure that out.)

In line with the anticlimactic start, our flights were on time and even mundane, for which we are all grateful. A few hours to Montreal, a few hours in the airport, 6 or so hours to Brussels, a few hours in the airport, and 10 (yes 10 consecutive hours) on the plane to Nairobi, in a seat that was less comfortable and smaller than the first puddle jumper that we started the day in. I don’t want to sound ungrateful that everything went smooth, it was just surprising.

In anticipation of the stifling heat and humidity of the Nairobi airport, I removed 4 layers of shirts and my long-johns while on the last flight. Yes, that does in fact mean I started with 5 layers for this 36 hour journey. You don’t want to bring a heavy coat with you from Canada as there’s no room for it the rest of the trip, so, layers! However, I did not remember this fact when I packed into a smaller bag than normal, so it was a bit difficult to find a ‘home’ for all of these shirts.

When we arrived in the Nairobi airport, we collected our wheelchair. Oh yes, did I mention that? Gaylene rode one of the wheelchairs over so we could save on the cost of transportation. She was wheeled through the airports, which while that may sound nice not to have to handle your bag or walk, it means she essentially sat for 36 hours with very little walking. What a trooper though, and her acting…superb. She was the right person for the job. Having seen the fortunate person in Mikinduri that receives a wheelchair, I assured Gaylene that any pressure points and bedsores will be worth the look on their face!

Well I wanted to quickly send this off as we’re about to leave for Castle Forest Lodge. I suppose the burn story will have to wait. It’s not really that exciting, but just reminded me that the dangers in Kenya are more from what seems familiar than the unknown. (Dun dun dunnnnn).